diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:09:37 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:09:37 -0700 |
| commit | 4969de426044386837f53e20f9a30a2d6f56dc5e (patch) | |
| tree | 7de77871fb92cd30d9c28638bbdb3e2a60f3a016 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 38131-8.txt | 12333 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 38131-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 232150 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 38131-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 331721 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 38131-h/38131-h.htm | 12484 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 38131-h/images/half-title.png | bin | 0 -> 13095 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 38131-h/images/onsecretservice-cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 58538 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 38131-h/images/titlepage.png | bin | 0 -> 18319 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 38131.txt | 12333 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 38131.zip | bin | 0 -> 232093 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
12 files changed, 37166 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/38131-8.txt b/38131-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f97f0e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/38131-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12333 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of On Secret Service, by William Nelson Taft + +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: On Secret Service + Detective-Mystery Stories Based on Real Cases Solved By + Government Agents + +Author: William Nelson Taft + +Release Date: November 25, 2011 [EBook #38131] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON SECRET SERVICE *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: These stories have introductions which end with +thought breaks, sometimes with a closing quotation mark from the +storyteller. When the storyteller continues the story after the thought +break, opening quotation marks are consistently omitted. + +Remaining transcriber's notes are located at the end of the text.] + + +[Cover Illustration: On Secret Service, +William Nelson Taft] + + + + +ON SECRET SERVICE + +[Decoration] + + + + + ON SECRET SERVICE + + _Detective-Mystery Stories + Based on Real Cases Solved + By Government Agents_ + + BY + WILLIAM NELSON TAFT + + [Illustration] + + HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + * * * * * + + + ON SECRET SERVICE + + Copyright, 1921, by Harper & Brothers + Printed in the United States of America + + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + I. A FLASH IN THE NIGHT 1 + + II. THE MINT MYSTERY 15 + + III. THE YPIRANGA CASE 28 + + IV. THE CLUE ON SHELF 45 42 + + V. PHYLLIS DODGE, SMUGGLER EXTRAORDINARY 57 + + VI. A MATTER OF RECORD 73 + + VII. THE SECRET STILL 88 + + VIII. THE TAXICAB TANGLE 103 + + IX. A MATCH FOR THE GOVERNMENT 118 + + X. THE GIRL AT THE SWITCHBOARD 133 + + XI. "LOST--$100,000!" 149 + + XII. "THE DOUBLE CODE" 164 + + XIII. THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE MICE 180 + + XIV. WAH LEE AND THE FLOWER OF HEAVEN 195 + + XV. THE MAN WITH THREE WIVES 210 + + XVI. AFTER SEVEN YEARS 225 + + XVII. THE POISON-PEN PUZZLE 239 + + XVIII. THIRTY THOUSAND YARDS OF SILK 254 + + XIX. THE CLUE IN THE CLASSIFIED COLUMN 268 + + XX. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CAPITOL 283 + + XXI. A MILLION-DOLLAR QUARTER 298 + + XXII. "THE LOOTING OF THE C. T. C." 313 + + XXIII. THE CASE OF MRS. ARMITAGE 328 + + XXIV. FIVE INCHES OF DEATH 343 + + + + +ON SECRET SERVICE + + + + +I + +A FLASH IN THE NIGHT + + +We were sitting in the lobby of the Willard, Bill Quinn and I, watching +the constant stream of politicians, pretty women, and petty office +seekers who drift constantly through the heart of Washington. + +Suddenly, under his breath, I heard Quinn mutter, "Hello!" and, +following his eyes, I saw a trim, dapper, almost effeminate-looking chap +of about twenty-five strolling through Peacock Alley as if he didn't +have a care in the world. + +"What's the matter?" I inquired. "Somebody who oughtn't to be here?" + +"Not at all. He's got a perfect right to be anywhere he pleases, but I +didn't know he was home. Last time I heard of him he was in Seattle, +mixed up with those riots that Ole Hanson handled so well." + +"Bolshevist?" + +"Hardly," and Quinn smiled. "Don't you know Jimmy Callahan? Well, it's +scarcely the province of a Secret Service man to impress his face upon +everyone ... the secret wouldn't last long. No, Jimmy was working on the +other end of the Seattle affair. Trying to locate the men behind the +move--and I understand he did it fairly well, too. But what else would +you expect from the man who solved that submarine tangle in Norfolk?" + +Quinn must have read the look of interest in my face, for he continued, +almost without a pause: "Did you ever hear the inside of that case? One +of the most remarkable in the whole history of the Secret Service, and +that's saying a good deal. I don't suppose it would do any harm to spill +it, so let's move over there in a corner and I'll relate a few details +of a case where the second hand of a watch played a leading role." + + * * * * * + +The whole thing started back in the spring of 1918 [said Quinn, who held +down a soft berth in the Treasury Department as a reward for a game leg +obtained during a counterfeiting raid on Long Island]. + +Along about then, if you remember, the Germans let loose a lot of +boasting statements as to what they were going to do to American ships +and American shipping. Transports were going to be sunk, commerce +crippled and all that sort of thing. While not a word of it got into the +papers, there were a bunch of people right here in Washington who took +these threats seriously--for the Hun's most powerful weapon appeared to +be in his submarines, and if a fleet of them once got going off the +coast we'd lose a lot of valuable men and time landing them. + +Then came the sinking of the _Carolina_ and those other ships off the +Jersey coast. Altogether it looked like a warm summer. + +One afternoon the Chief sent for Callahan, who'd just come back from +taking care of some job down on the border, and told him his troubles. + +"Jimmy," said the Chief, "somebody on this side is giving those damn +Huns a whole lot of information that they haven't any business getting. +You know about those boats they've sunk already, of course. They're +only small fry. What they're laying for is a transport, another +_Tuscania_ that they can stab in the dark and make their getaway. The +point that's worrying us is that the U-boats must be getting their +information from some one over here. The sinking of the _Carolina_ +proves that. No submarine, operating on general cruising orders, could +possibly have known when that ship was due or what course she was going +to take. Every precaution was taken at San Juan to keep her sailing a +secret, but of course you can't hide every detail of that kind. She got +out. Some one saw her, wired the information up the coast here and the +man we've got to nab tipped the U-boat off. + +"Of course we could go at it from Porto Rico, but that would mean +wasting a whole lot more time than we can afford. It's not so much a +question of the other end of the cable as it is who transmitted the +message to the submarine--and how! + +"It's your job to find out before they score a real hit." + +Callahan, knowing the way things are handled in the little suite on the +west side of the Treasury Building, asked for the file containing the +available information and found it very meager indeed. + +Details of the sinking of the _Carolina_ were included, among them the +fact that the _U-37_ had been waiting directly in the path of the +steamer, though the latter was using a course entirely different from +the one the New York and Porto Rico S. S. Company's boats generally +took. The evidence of a number of passengers was that the submarine +didn't appear a bit surprised at the size of her prey, but went about +the whole affair in a businesslike manner. The meat of the report was +contained in the final paragraph, stating that one of the German +officers had boasted that they "would get a lot more ships in the same +way," adding, "Don't worry--we'll be notified when they are going to +sail." + +Of course, Callahan reasoned, this might be simply a piece of Teutonic +bravado--but there was more than an even chance that it was the truth, +particularly when taken in conjunction with the sinking of the _Texel_ +and the _Pinar del Rio_ and the fact that the _Carolina's_ course was so +accurately known. + +But how in the name of Heaven had they gotten their information? + +Callahan knew that the four principal ports of embarkation for +troops--Boston, New York, Norfolk, and Charleston--were shrouded in a +mantle of secrecy which it was almost impossible to penetrate. Some +months before, when he had been working on the case which grew out of +the disappearance of the plans of the battleship _Pennsylvania_, he had +had occasion to make a number of guarded inquiries in naval circles in +New York, and he recalled that it had been necessary not only to show +his badge, but to submit to the most searching scrutiny before he was +allowed to see the men he wished to reach. He therefore felt certain +that no outsider could have dug up the specific information in the short +space of time at their disposal. + +But, arguing that it had been obtained, the way in which it had been +passed on to the U-boat also presented a puzzle. + +Was there a secret submarine base on the coast? + +Had some German, more daring than the rest, actually come ashore and +penetrated into the very lines of the Service? + +Had he laid a plan whereby he could repeat this operation as often as +necessary? + +Or did the answer lie in a concealed wireless, operating upon +information supplied through underground channels? + +These were only a few of the questions which raced through Callahan's +mind. The submarine base he dismissed as impracticable. He knew that the +_Thor_, the _Unita_, the _Macedonia_, and nine other vessels had, at the +beginning of the war, cleared from American ports under false papers +with the intention of supplying German warships with oil, coal, and +food. He also knew that, of the million and a half dollars' worth of +supplies, less than one-sixth had ever been transshipped. Therefore, +having failed so signally here, the Germans would hardly try the same +scheme again. + +The rumor that German officers had actually come into New York, where +they were supposed to have been seen in a theater, was also rather +far-fetched. So the wireless theory seemed to be the most tenable. But +even a wireless cannot conceal its existence from the other stations +indefinitely. Of course, it was possible that it might be located on +some unfrequented part of the coast--but then how could the operator +obtain the information which he transmitted to the U-boat? + +Callahan gave it up in despair--for that night. He was tired and he felt +that eight hours' sleep would do him more good than thrashing around +with a problem for which there appeared to be no solution; a problem +which, after all, he couldn't even be sure existed. + +Maybe, he thought, drowsily, as he turned off the light--maybe the +German on the U-boat was only boasting, after all--or, maybe.... + +The first thing Jimmy did the next morning was to call upon the head of +the recently organized Intelligence Bureau of the War Department--not +the Intelligence Division which has charge of censorship and the +handling of news, but the bureau which bears the same relation to the +army that the Secret Service does to the Treasury Department. + +"From what ports are transports sailing within the next couple of +weeks?" he inquired of the officer in charge. + +"From Boston, New York, Norfolk, and Charleston," was the reply--merely +confirming Callahan's previous belief. He had hoped that the ground +would be more limited, because he wanted to have the honor of solving +this problem by himself, and it was hardly possible for him to cover the +entire Atlantic Coast. + +"Where's the biggest ship sailing from?" was his next question. + +"There's one that clears Norfolk at daylight on Monday morning with +twelve thousand men aboard...." + +"Norfolk?" interrupted Callahan. "I thought most of the big ones left +from New York or Boston." + +"So they do, generally. But these men are from Virginia and North +Carolina. Therefore it's easier to ship them right out of Norfolk--saves +time and congestion of the railroads. As it happens, the ship they're +going on is one of the largest that will clear for ten days or more. All +of the other big ones are on the other side." + +"Then," cut in Callahan, "if the Germans wanted to make a ten-strike +they'd lay for that boat?" + +"They sure would--and one torpedo well placed would make the _Tuscania_ +look like a Sunday-school picnic. But what's the idea? Got a tip that +the Huns are going to try to grab her?" + +"No, not a tip," Callahan called back over his shoulder, for he was +already halfway out of the door; "just a hunch--and I'm going to play it +for all it's worth!" + +The next morning, safely ensconced at the Monticello under the name of +"Robert P. Oliver, of Williamsport, Pa." Callahan admitted to himself +that he was indeed working on nothing more than a "hunch," and not a +very well-defined one at that. The only point that appeared actually to +back up his theory that the information was coming from Norfolk was the +fact that the U-boat was known to be operating between New York and the +Virginia capes. New York itself was well guarded and the surrounding +country was continually patrolled by operatives of all kinds. It was the +logical point to watch, and therefore it would be much more difficult to +obtain and transmit information there than it would be in the vicinity +of Norfolk, where military and naval operations were not conducted on as +large a scale nor with as great an amount of secrecy. + +Norfolk, Callahan found, was rather proud of her new-found glory. For +years she had basked in the social prestige of the Chamberlin, the +annual gathering of the Fleet at Hampton Roads and the military pomp and +ceremony attendant upon the operations of Fortress Monroe. But the war +had brought a new thrill. Norfolk was now one of the principal ports of +embarkation for the men going abroad. Norfolk had finally taken her rank +with New York and Boston--the rank to which her harbor entitled her. + +Callahan reached Norfolk on Wednesday morning. The _America_, according +to the information he had received from the War Department, would clear +at daybreak Monday--but at noon on Saturday the Secret Service operative +had very little more knowledge than when he arrived. He had found that +there was a rumor to the effect that two U-boats were waiting off the +Capes for the transport, which, of course, would have the benefit of the +usual convoy. + +"But," as one army officer phrased it, "what's the use of a convoy if +they know just where you are? Germany would willingly lose a sub. or two +to get us, and, with the sea that's been running for the past ten days, +there'd be no hope of saving more than half the boys." + +Spurred by the rapidity with which time was passing and the fact that he +sensed a thrill of danger--an intuition of impending peril--around the +_America_, Callahan spent the better part of Friday night and all +Saturday morning running down tips that proved to be groundless. A man +with a German name was reported to be working in secret upon some +invention in an isolated house on Willoughby Spit; a woman, concerning +whom little was known, had been seen frequently in the company of two +lieutenants slated to sail on the _America_; a house in Newport News +emitted strange "clacking" sounds at night. + +But the alleged German proved to be a photographer of unassailable +loyalty, putting in extra hours trying to develop a new process of color +printing. The woman came from one of the oldest families in Richmond and +had known the two lieutenants for years. The house in Newport News +proved to be the residence of a young man who hoped some day to sell a +photoplay scenario, the irregular clacking noise being made by a +typewriter operated none too steadily. + +"That's what happens to most of the 'clues' that people hand you," +Callahan mused as he sat before his open window on Saturday evening, +with less than thirty-six hours left before the _America_ was scheduled +to leave. "Some fellows have luck with them, but I'll be hanged if I +ever did. Here I'm working in the dark on a case that I'm not even +positive exists. That infernal submarine may be laying off Boston at +this minute, waiting for the ship that leaves there Tuesday. Maybe they +don't get any word from shore at all.... Maybe they just...." + +But here he was brought up with a sudden jar that concentrated all his +mental faculties along an entirely different road. + +Gazing out over the lights of the city, scarcely aware that he saw them, +his subconscious mind had been following for the past three minutes +something apparently usual, but in reality entirely out of the ordinary. + +"By George!" he muttered, "I wonder...." + +Then, taking his watch from his pocket, his eyes alternated between a +point several blocks distant--a point over the roofs of the houses--and +the second hand of his timepiece. Less than a minute elapsed before he +reached for a pencil and commenced to jot down dots and dashes on the +back of an envelope. When, a quarter of an hour later, he found that the +dashes had become monotonous--as he expected they would--he reached for +the telephone and asked to be connected with the private wire of the +Navy Department in Washington. + +"Let me speak to Mr. Thurber at once," he directed. "Operative Callahan, +S. S., speaking.... Hello! that you, Thurber?... This is Callahan. I'm +in Norfolk and I want to know whether you can read this code. You can +figure it out if anybody can. Ready?... Dash, dash, dash, dot, dash, +dash, dot--" and he continued until he had repeated the entire series of +symbols that he had plucked out of the night. + +"Sounds like a variation of the International Morse," came the comment +from the other end of the wire--from Thurber, librarian of the Navy +Department and one of the leading American authorities on code and +ciphers. "May take a little time to figure it out, but it doesn't look +difficult. Where can I reach you?" + +"I'm at the Monticello--name of Robert P. Oliver. Put in a call for me +as soon as you see the light on it. I've got something important to do +right now," and he hung up without another word. + +A quick grab for his hat, a pat under his arm, to make sure that the +holster holding the automatic was in place, and Callahan was on his way +downstairs. + +Once in the street, he quickened his pace and was soon gazing skyward at +the corner of two deserted thoroughfares not many blocks from the +Monticello. A few minutes' consultation with his watch confirmed his +impression that everything was right again and he commenced his search +for the night watchman. + +"Who," he inquired of that individual, "has charge of the operation of +that phonograph sign on the roof?" + +"Doan know fuh certain, suh, but Ah think it's operated by a man down +the street a piece. He's got charge of a bunch of them sort o' things. +Mighty funny kinder way to earn a livin', Ah calls it--flashing on an' +off all night long...." + +"But where's he work from?" interrupted Callahan, fearful that the +negro's garrulousness might delay him unduly. + +"Straight down this street three blocks, suh. Then turn one block to yo' +left and yo' cain't miss the place. Electrical Advertisin' Headquarters +they calls it. Thank you, suh," and Callahan was gone almost before the +watchman could grasp the fact that he held a five-dollar bill instead of +a dollar, as he thought. + +It didn't take the Secret Service man long to locate the place he +sought, and on the top floor he found a dark, swarthy individual bending +over the complicated apparatus which operated a number of the electric +signs throughout the city. Before the other knew it, Callahan was in the +room--his back to the door and his automatic ready for action. + +"Up with your hands!" snapped Callahan. "Higher! That's better. Now tell +me where you got that information you flashed out to sea to-night by +means of that phonograph sign up the street. Quick! I haven't any time +to waste." + +"_Si, si, seņor_," stammered the man who faced him. "But I understand +not the English very well." + +"All right," countered Callahan. "Let's try it in Spanish," and he +repeated his demands in that language. + +Volubly the Spaniard--or Mexican, as he later turned out to +be--maintained that he had received no information, nor had he +transmitted any. He claimed his only duty was to watch the "drums" which +operated the signs mechanically. + +"No drum in the world could make that sign flash like it did to-night," +Callahan cut in. "For more than fifteen minutes you sent a variation of +the Morse code seaward. Come on--I'll give you just one minute to tell +me, or I'll bend this gun over your head." + +Before the minute had elapsed, the Mexican commenced his confession. He +had been paid a hundred dollars a week, he claimed, to flash a certain +series of signals every Saturday night, precisely at nine o'clock. The +message itself--a series of dots and dashes which he produced from his +pocket as evidence of his truthfulness--had reached him on Saturday +morning for the two preceding weeks. He didn't know what it meant. All +he did was to disconnect the drum which operated the sign and move the +switch himself. Payment for each week's work, he stated, was inclosed +with the next week's message. Where it came from he didn't know, but the +envelope was postmarked Washington. + +With his revolver concealed in his coat pocket, but with its muzzle in +the small of the Mexican's back, Callahan marched his captive back to +the hotel and up into his room. As he opened the door the telephone rang +out, and, ordering the other to stand with his face to the wall in a +corner--"and be damn sure not to make a move"--the government agent +answered the call. As he expected, it was Thurber. + +"The code's a cinch," came the voice over the wire from Washington. "But +the message is infernally important. It's in German, and evidently you +picked it up about two sentences from the start. The part you gave me +states that the transport _America_, with twelve thousand men aboard, +will leave Norfolk at daylight Monday. The route the ship will take is +distinctly stated, as is the personnel of her convoy. Where'd you get +the message?" + +"Flashes in the night," answered Callahan. "I noticed that an electric +sign wasn't behaving regularly--so I jotted down its signals and passed +them on to you. The next important point is whether the message is +complete enough for you to reconstruct the code. Have you got all the +letters?" + +"Yes, every one of them." + +"Then take down this message, put it into that dot-and-dash code and +send it to me by special messenger on one of the navy torpedo boats +to-night. It's a matter of life and death to thousands of men!" and +Callahan dictated three sentences over the wire. "Got that?" he +inquired. "Good! Get busy and hurry it down. I've got to have it in the +morning." + +"Turn around," he directed the Mexican, as he replaced the receiver. +"Were you to send these messages only on Saturday night?" + +"_Si, seņor._ Save that I was told that there might be occasions when I +had to do the same thing on Sunday night, too." + +"At nine o'clock?" + +"_Si, seņor._" + +Callahan smiled. Things were breaking better than he had dared hope. It +meant that the U-boat would be watching for the signal the following +night. Then, with proper emphasis of the automatic, he gave the Mexican +his orders. He was to return to his office with Callahan and go about +his business as usual, with the certainty that if he tried any +foolishness the revolver could act more quickly than he. Accompanied by +the government agent, he was to come back to the Monticello and spend +the night in Callahan's room, remaining there until the next evening +when he would--promptly at nine o'clock and under the direction of an +expert in telegraphy--send the message which Callahan would hand him. + +That's practically all there is to the story. + + * * * * * + +"All?" I echoed, when Quinn paused. "What do you mean, 'all'? What was +the message Callahan sent? What happened to the Mexican? Who sent the +letter and the money from Washington?" + +"Nothing much happened to the Mexican," replied my informant, with a +smile. "They found that he was telling the truth, so they just sent him +over the border with instructions not to show himself north of the Rio +Grande. As for the letter--that took the Post Office, the Department of +Justice, and the Secret Service the better part of three months to +trace. But they finally located the sender, two weeks after she (yes, it +was a woman, and a darned pretty one at that) had made her getaway. I +understand they got her in England and sentenced her to penal servitude +for some twenty years or more. In spite of the war, the Anglo-Saxon race +hasn't completely overcome its prejudice against the death penalty for +women." + +"But the message Callahan sent?" I persisted. + +"That was short and to the point. As I recall it, it ran something like +this: 'Urgent--Route of _America_ changed. She clears at daylight, but +takes a course exactly ten miles south of one previously stated. Be +there." + +"The U-boat was there, all right. But so were four hydroplanes and half +a dozen destroyers, all carrying the Stars and Stripes!" + + + + +II + +THE MINT MYSTERY + + +"Mr Drummond! Wire for Mr. Drummond! Mr. Drummond, please!" + +It was the monotonous, oft-repeated call of a Western Union +boy--according to my friend Bill Quinn, formerly of the United States +Secret Service--that really was responsible for solving the mystery +which surrounded the disappearance of $130,000 in gold from the +Philadelphia Mint. + +"The boy himself didn't have a thing to do with the gold or the finding +of it," admitted Quinn, "but his persistence was responsible for +locating Drummond, of the Secret Service, just as he was about to start +on a well-earned vacation in the Maine woods. Uncle Sam's sleuths don't +get any too much time off, you know, and a month or so in a part of the +world where they don't know anything about international intrigues and +don't care about counterfeiting is a blessing not to be despised. + +"That's the reason the boy had to be persistent when he was paging +Drummond. + +"The operative had a hunch that it was a summons to another case and he +was dog tired. But the boy kept singing out the name through the train +and finally landed his man, thus being indirectly responsible for the +solution of a mystery that might have remained unsolved for weeks--and +incidentally saved the government nearly every cent of the one hundred +and thirty thousand dollars." + + * * * * * + +When Drummond opened the telegram [continued Quinn] he found that it was +a summons to Philadelphia, signed by Hamlin, Assistant Secretary of the +Treasury. + +"Preston needs you at once. Extremely important," read the wire--and, as +Drummond was fully aware that Preston was Director of the United States +Mint, it didn't take much deduction to figure that something had gone +wrong in the big building on Spring Garden Street where a large part of +the country's money is coined. + +But even the lure of the chase--something you read a lot about in +detective stories, but find too seldom in the real hard work of tracing +criminals--did not offset Drummond's disappointment in having to defer +his vacation. Grumbling, he gathered his bags and cut across New York to +the Pennsylvania Station, where he was fortunate enough to be able to +make a train on the point of leaving for Philadelphia. At the Mint he +found Director Preston and Superintendent Bosbyshell awaiting him. + +"Mr. Hamlin wired that he had instructed you to come up at once," said +the director. "But we had hardly hoped that you could make it so soon." + +"Wire reached me on board a train that would have pulled out of Grand +Central Station in another three minutes," growled Drummond. "I was on +my way to Maine to forget all about work for a month. But," and his face +broke into a smile, "since they did find me, what's the trouble?" + +"Trouble enough," replied the director. "Some hundred and thirty +thousand dollars in gold is missing from the Mint!" + +"What!" Even Drummond was shaken out of his professional calm, not to +mention his grouch. Robbery of the United States Treasury or one of the +government Mints was a favorite dream with criminals, but--save for the +memorable occasion when a gang was found trying to tunnel under +Fifteenth Street in Washington--there had been no time when the scheme +was more than visionary. + +"Are you certain? Isn't there any chance for a mistake?" + +The questions were perfunctory, rather than hopeful. + +"Unfortunately, not the least," continued Preston. "Somebody has made +away with a hundred and thirty thousand dollars worth of the +government's money. Seven hundred pounds of gold is missing and there +isn't a trace to show how or where it went. The vault doors haven't been +tampered with. The combination of the grille inside the vault is intact. +Everything, apparently, is as it should be--but fifty bars of gold are +missing." + +"And each bar," mused Drummond, "weighs--" + +"Fourteen pounds," cut in the superintendent. + +Drummond looked at him in surprise. + +"I beg your pardon," said Preston. "This is Mr. Bosbyshell, +superintendent of the Mint. This thing has gotten on my nerves so that I +didn't have the common decency to introduce you. Mr. Bosbyshell was with +me when we discovered that the gold was missing." + +"When was that?" + +"Yesterday afternoon," replied the director. "Every now and then--at +irregular intervals--we weigh all the gold in the Mint, to make sure +that everything is as it should be. Nothing wrong was discovered until +we reached Vault Six, but there fifty bars were missing. There wasn't +any chance of error. The records showed precisely how much should have +been there and the scales showed how much there was, to the fraction of +an ounce. + +"But even if we had only counted the bars, instead of weighing each one +separately, the theft would have been instantly discovered, for the +vault contained exactly fifty bars less than it should have. It was then +that I wired Washington and asked for assistance from the Secret +Service." + +"Thus spoiling my vacation," muttered Drummond. "How many men know the +combination to the vault door?" + +"Only two," replied the superintendent. "Cochrane, who is the official +weigher, and myself. Cochrane is above suspicion. He's been here for the +past thirty years and there hasn't been a single complaint against him +in all that time." + +Drummond looked as if he would like to ask Preston if the same could be +said for the superintendent, but he contented himself with listening as +Bosbyshell continued: + +"But even if Cochrane or I--yes, I'm just as much to be suspected as +he--could have managed to open the vault door unseen, we could not have +gotten inside the iron grille which guards the gold in the interior of +the vault. That is always kept locked, with a combination known to two +other men only. There's too much gold in each one of these vaults to +take any chance with, which is the reason for this double protection. +Two men--Cochrane and I--handle the combination to the vault door and +open it whenever necessary. Two others--Jamison and Strubel--are the +only ones that know how to open the grille door. One of them has to be +present whenever the bars are put in or taken away, for the men who can +get inside the vault cannot enter the grille, and the men who can +manipulate the grille door can't get into the vault." + +"It certainly sounds like a burglar-proof combination," commented +Drummond. "Is there any possibility for conspiracy between"--and he +hesitated for the fraction of a second--"between Cochrane and either of +the men who can open the grille door?" + +"Apparently not the least in the world," replied Preston. "So far as we +know they are all as honest as the day--" + +"But the fact remains," Drummond interrupted, "that the gold is +missing." + +"Exactly--but the grille door was sealed with the official governmental +stamp when we entered the vault yesterday. That stamp is applied only in +the presence of both men who know the combination. So the conspiracy, if +there be any, must have included Cochrane, Strubel, and Jamison--instead +of being a two-man job." + +"How much gold did you say was missing?" inquired the Treasury +operative, taking another tack. + +"Seven hundred pounds--fifty bars of fourteen pounds each," answered +Bosbyshell. "That's another problem that defies explanation. How could +one man carry away all that gold without being seen? He'd need a dray to +cart it off, and we're very careful about what goes out of the Mint. +There's a guard at the front door all the time, and no one is allowed to +leave with a package of any kind until it has been examined and passed." + +A grunt was Drummond's only comment--and those who knew the Secret +Service man best would have interpreted the sound to mean studious +digestion of facts, rather than admission of even temporary defeat. + +It was one of the government detective's pet theories that every crime, +no matter how puzzling, could be solved by application of common-sense +principles and the rules of logic. "The criminal with brains," he was +fond of saying, "will deliberately try to throw you off the scent. Then +you've got to take your time and separate the wheat from the chaff--the +false leads from the true. But the man who commits a crime on the spur +of the moment--or who flatters himself that he hasn't left a single clue +behind--is the one who's easy to catch. The cleverest crook in the world +can't enter a room without leaving his visiting card in some way or +other. It's up to you to find that card and read the name on it. And +common sense is the best reading glass." + +Requesting that his mission be kept secret, Drummond said that he would +like to examine Vault No. Six. + +"Let Cochrane open the vault for me and then have Jamison and Strubel +open the grille," he directed. + +"Unless Mr. Bosbyshell opened the vault door," Preston reminded him, +"there's no one but Cochrane who could do it. It won't be necessary, +however, to have either of the others open the grille--the door was +taken from its hinges this morning in order the better to examine the +place and it hasn't yet been replaced." + +"All right," agreed Drummond. "Let's have Cochrane work the outer +combination, then. I'll have a look at the other two later." + +Accompanied by the director and the superintendent, Drummond made his +way to the basement where they were joined by the official weigher, a +man well over fifty, who was introduced by Preston to "Mr. Drummond, a +visitor who is desirous of seeing the vaults." + +"I understand that you are the only man who can open them," said the +detective. "Suppose we look into this one," as he stopped, as if by +accident, before Vault No. 6. + +Cochrane, without a word, bent forward and commenced to twirl the +combination. A few spins to the right, a few to the left, back to the +right, to the left once more--and he pulled at the heavy door +expectantly. But it failed to budge. + +Again he bent over the combination, spinning it rapidly. Still the door +refused to open. + +"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to help me with this, Superintendent," +Cochrane said, finally. "It doesn't seem to work, somehow." + +But, under Bosbyshell's manipulation, the door swung back almost +instantly. + +"Nothing wrong with the combination," commented Preston. + +Drummond smiled. "Has the combination been changed recently?" he asked. + +"Not for the past month," Bosbyshell replied. "We usually switch all of +them six times a year, just as a general precaution--but this has been +the same for the past few weeks. Ever since the fifteenth of last month, +to be precise." + +Inside the vault Drummond found that, as Preston had stated, the door to +the grille had been taken from its hinges, to facilitate the work of the +men who had weighed the gold, and had not been replaced. + +"Where are the gold bars?" asked the detective. "The place looks like it +had been well looted." + +"They were all taken out this morning, to be carefully weighed," was +Preston's reply. + +"I'd like to see some of them stacked up there along the side of the +grille, if it isn't too much trouble." + +"Surely," said Bosbyshell. "I'll have the men bring them in at once." + +As soon as the superintendent had left the room, Drummond requested that +the door of the grille be placed in its usual position, and Cochrane set +it up level with the floor, leaning against the supports at the side. + +"Is that the way it always stays?" inquired the Secret Service man. + +"No, sir, but it's pretty heavy to handle, and I thought you just wanted +to get a general idea of things." + +"I'd like to see it in place, if you don't mind. Here, I'll help you +with it--but we better slip our coats off, for it looks like a +man's-sized job," and he removed his coat as he spoke. + +After Cochrane had followed his example, the two of them hung the heavy +door from its hinges and stepped back to get the effect. But Drummond's +eyes were fixed, not upon the entrance to the grille, but on the middle +of Cochrane's back, and, when the opportunity offered an instant later, +he shifted his gaze to the waist of the elder man's trousers. Something +that he saw there caused the shadow of a smile to flit across his face. + +"Thanks," he said. "That will do nicely," and he made a quick gesture to +Preston that he would like to have Cochrane leave the vault. + +"Very much obliged, Mr. Cochrane," said the director. "We won't bother +you any more. You might ask those men to hurry in with the bars, if you +will." + +And the weigher, pausing only to secure his coat, left the vault. + +"Why all the stage setting?" inquired Preston. "You don't suspect...." + +"I don't suspect a thing," Drummond smiled, searching for his own coat, +"beyond the fact that the solution to the mystery is so simple as to be +almost absurd. By the way, have you noticed those scratches on the bars +of the grille, about four feet from the floor?" + +"No, I hadn't," admitted the director. "But what of them? These vaults +aren't new, you know, and I dare say you'd find similar marks on the +grille bars in any of the others." + +"I hope not," Drummond replied, grimly, "for that would almost +certainly mean a shortage of gold in other sections of the Mint. +Incidentally, has all the rest of the gold been weighed?" + +"Every ounce of it." + +"Nothing missing?" + +"Outside of the seven hundred pounds from this vault, not a particle." + +"Good--then I'll be willing to lay a small wager that you can't find the +duplicates of these scratches anywhere else in the Mint." And Drummond +smiled at the director's perplexity. + +When the men arrived with a truck loaded with gold bars, they stacked +them--at the superintendent's direction--along the side of the grille +nearest the vault entrance. + +"Is that the way they are usually arranged?" inquired Drummond. + +"Yes--the grille bars are of tempered steel and the openings between +them are too small to permit anyone to put his hand through. Therefore, +as we are somewhat pressed for space, we stack them up right along the +outer wall of the grille and then work back. It saves time and labor in +bringing them in." + +"Is this the way the door of the grille ordinarily hangs?" + +Bosbyshell inspected it a moment before he replied. + +"Yes," he said. "It appears to be all right. It was purposely made to +swing clear of the floor and the ceiling so that it might not become +jammed. The combination and the use of the seal prevents its being +opened by anyone who has no business in the grille." + +"And the seal was intact when you came in yesterday afternoon?" + +"It was." + +"Thanks," said Drummond; "that was all I wanted to know," and he made +his way upstairs with a smile which seemed to say that his vacation in +the Maine woods had not been indefinitely postponed. + +Once back in the director's office, the government operative asked +permission to use the telephone, and, calling the Philadelphia office of +the Secret Service, requested that three agents be assigned to meet him +down town as soon as possible. + +"Have you a record of the home address of the people employed in the +Mint?" Drummond inquired of the director, as he hung up the receiver. + +"Surely," said Preston, producing a typewritten list from the drawer of +his desk. + +"I'll borrow this for a while, if I may. I'll probably be back with it +before three o'clock--and bring some news with me, too," and the +operative was out of the room before Preston could frame a single +question. + +As a matter of fact, the clock in the director's office pointed to +two-thirty when Drummond returned, accompanied by the three men who had +been assigned to assist him. + +"Have you discovered anything?" Preston demanded. + +"Let's have Cochrane up here first," Drummond smiled. "I can't be +positive until I've talked to him. You might have the superintendent in, +too. He'll be interested in developments, I think." + +Bosbyshell was the first to arrive, and, at Drummond's request, took up +a position on the far side of the room. As soon as he had entered, two +of the other Secret Service men ranged themselves on the other side of +the doorway and, the moment Cochrane came in, closed the door behind +him. + +"Cochrane," said Drummond, "what did you do with the seven hundred +pounds of gold that you took from Vault No. Six during the past few +weeks?" + +"What--what--" stammered the weigher. + +"There's no use bluffing," continued the detective. "We've got the goods +on you. The only thing missing is the gold itself, and the sooner you +turn it over the more lenient the government will be with you. I know +how you got the bars out of the grille--a piece of bent wire was +sufficient to dislodge them from the top of the pile nearest the grille +bars and it was easy to slip them under the door. No wonder the seal was +never tampered with. It wasn't necessary for you to go inside the grille +at all. + +"But, more than that, I know how you carried the bars, one at a time, +out of the Mint. It took these three men less than an hour this +afternoon to find the tailor who fixed the false pocket in the front of +your trousers--the next time you try a job of this kind you better +attend to all these details yourself--and it needed only one look at +your suspenders this morning to see that they were a good deal wider and +heavier than necessary. That long coat you are in the habit of wearing +is just the thing to cover up any suspicious bulge in your garments and +the guard at the door, knowing you, would never think of telling you to +stop unless you carried a package or something else contrary to orders. + +"The people in your neighborhood say that they've seen queer bluish +lights in the basement of your house on Woodland Avenue. So I suspect +you've been melting that gold up and hiding it somewhere, ready for a +quick getaway. + +"Yes, Cochrane, we've got the goods on you and if you want to save half +of a twenty-year sentence--which at your age means life--come across +with the information. Where is the gold?" + +"In the old sewer pipe," faltered the weigher, who appeared to have aged +ten years while Drummond was speaking. "In the old sewer pipe that +leads from my basement." + +"Good!" exclaimed Drummond. "I think Mr. Preston will use his influence +with the court to see that your sentence isn't any heavier than +necessary. It's worth that much to guard the Mint against future losses +of the same kind, isn't it, Mr. Director?" + +"It surely is," replied Preston. "But how in the name of Heaven did you +get the answer so quickly?" + +Drummond delayed his answer until Cochrane, accompanied by the three +Secret Service men, had left the room. Then-- + +"Nothing but common sense," he said. "You remember those scratches I +called your attention to--the ones on the side of the grille bars? They +were a clear indication of the way in which the gold had been taken from +the grille--knocked down from the top of the pile with a piece of wire +and pulled under the door of the grille. That eliminated Jamison and +Strubel immediately. They needn't have gone to that trouble, even if it +had been possible for them to get into the vault in the first place. + +"But I had my suspicions of Cochrane when he was unable to open the +vault door. That pointed to nervousness, and nervousness indicated a +guilty conscience. I made the hanging of the grille door an excuse to +get him to shed his coat--though I did want to see whether the door came +all the way down to the floor--and I noted that his suspenders were very +broad and his trousers abnormally wide around the waist. He didn't want +to take any chances with that extra fourteen pounds of gold, you know. +It would never do to drop it in the street. + +"The rest is merely corroborative. I found that bluish lights had been +observed in the basement of Cochrane's house, and one of my men located +the tailor who had enlarged his trousers. That's really all there was +to it." + +With that Drummond started to the door, only to be stopped by Director +Preston's inquiry as to where he was going. + +"On my vacation, which you interrupted this morning," replied the Secret +Service man. + +"It's a good thing I did," Preston called after him. "If Cochrane had +really gotten away with that gold we might never have caught him." + + * * * * * + +"Which," as Bill Quinn said, when he finished his narrative, "is the +reason I claim that the telegraph boy who persisted in paging Drummond +is the one who was really responsible for the saving of some hundred and +thirty thousand dollars that belonged to Uncle Sam." + +"But, surely," I said, "that case was an exception. In rapidity of +action, I mean. Don't governmental investigations usually take a long +time?" + +"Frequently," admitted Quinn, "they drag on and on for months--sometimes +years. But it's seldom that Uncle Sam fails to land his man--even though +the trail leads into the realms of royalty, as in the Ypiranga case. +That happened before the World War opened, but it gave the State +Department a mighty good line on what to expect from Germany." + + + + +III + +THE YPIRANGA CASE + + +"Mexico," said Bill Quinn, who now holds a soft berth in the Treasury +Department by virtue of an injury received in the line of duty--during a +raid on counterfeiters a few years ago, to be precise--"is back on the +first page of the papers again after being crowded off for some four +years because of the World War. Funny coincidence, that, when you +remember that it was this same Mexico that gave us our first indication +of the way we might expect Germany to behave." + +"Huh?" I said, a bit startled. "What do you mean? The first spark of the +war was kindled in Serbia, not Mexico. Outside of the rumblings of the +Algeciras case and one or two other minor affairs, there wasn't the +slightest indication of the conflict to come." + +"No?" and Quinn's eyebrows went up in interrogation. "How about the +Ypiranga case?" + +"The which?" + +"The Ypiranga case--the one where Jack Stewart stumbled across a clue in +a Mexico City café which led all the way to Berlin and back to +Washington and threatened to precipitate a row before the Kaiser was +quite ready for it?" + +"No," I admitted, "that's a page of underground history that I haven't +read--and I must confess that I don't know Stewart, either." + +"Probably not," said the former Secret Service man. "He wasn't +connected with any of the branches of the government that get into print +very often. As a matter of fact, the very existence of the organization +to which he belonged isn't given any too much publicity. Everyone knows +of the Secret Service and the men who make the investigations for the +Department of Justice and the Post-office Department--but the Department +of State, for obvious reasons, conducts its inquiries in a rather more +diplomatic manner. Its agents have to pose as commercial investigators, +or something else equally as prosaic. Their salaries are, as a general +thing, paid out of the President's private allowance or out of the fund +given to the department 'for use as it may see fit.' Less than half a +dozen people know the actual status of the organization or the names of +its members at any one time, and its exploits are recorded only in the +archives of the State Department." + +"But who," I persisted, as Quinn stopped, "was Jack Stewart and what was +the nature of the affair upon which he stumbled in Mexico City?" + + * * * * * + +Stewart [replied Quinn] was just a quiet, ordinary sort of chap, the +kind that you'd expect to find behind a desk in the State Department, +sorting out consular reports and handling routine stuff. Nothing +exceptional about him at all--which was probably one reason for his +being selected for work as a secret agent of the Department. It doesn't +do, you know, to pick men who are conspicuous, either in their dress or +manner. Too easy to spot and remember them. The chap who's swallowed up +in the crowd is the one who can get by with a whole lot of quiet work +without being suspected. + +When they sent Jack down to Mexico they didn't have the slightest idea +he'd uncover anything as big as he did. The country south of the Rio +Grande, if you recall, had been none too quiet for some time prior to +1914. Taft had had his troubles with it ever since the end of the Diaz +regime, and when Wilson came in the "Mexican question" was a legacy that +caused the men in the State Department to spend a good many sleepless +nights. + +All sorts of rumors, most of them wild and bloody, floated up through +official and unofficial channels. The one fact that seemed to be certain +was that Mexico was none too friendly to the United States, and that +some other nation was behind this feeling, keeping it constantly stirred +up and overlooking no opportunity to add fuel to the flame. Three or +four other members of the State Department's secret organization had +been wandering around picking up leads for some months past and, upon +the return of one of these to Washington, Stewart was sent to replace +him. + +His instructions were simple and delightfully indefinite. He was to +proceed to Mexico City, posing as the investigator for a financial house +in New York which was on the lookout for a soft concession from the +Mexican government. This would give him an opportunity to seek the +acquaintance of Mexican officials and lend an air of plausibility to +practically any line that he found it necessary to follow. But, once at +the capital with his alibis well established, he was to overlook nothing +which might throw light upon the question that had been bothering +Washington for some time past--just which one of the foreign powers was +fanning the Mexican unrest and to what lengths it was prepared to go? + +Of course, the State Department suspected--just as we now know--that +Berlin was behind the movement, but at that time there was no indication +of the reason. In the light of later events, however, the plan is plain. +Germany, feeling certain that the greatest war Europe had ever known +was a matter of the immediate future, was laying her plans to keep other +nations out of the conflict. She figured that Mexico was the best foil +for the United States and that our pitifully small army would have its +hands full with troubles at home. If not, she intended to let Japan +enter into the equation--as shown by the Zimmerman note some two years +later. + +When Stewart got to Mexico City, it did not take him long to discover +that there was an undercurrent of animosity to the United States which +made itself felt in numberless ways. Some of the Mexican papers, +apparently on a stronger financial basis than ever before, were +outspoken in their criticism of American dollars and American dealings. +The people as a whole, long dominated by Diaz, were being stirred to +resentment of the "Gringoes," who "sought to purchase the soul of a +nation as well as its mineral wealth." The improvements which American +capital had made were entirely overlooked, and the spotlight of +subsidized publicity was thrown upon the encroachments of the hated +Yankees. + +All this Stewart reported to Washington, and in reply was politely +informed that, while interesting, it was hardly news. The State +Department had known all this for months. The question was: Where was +the money coming from and what was the immediate object of the game? + +"Take your time and don't bother us unless you find something definite +to report," was the substance of the instructions cabled to Stewart. + +The secret agent, therefore, contented himself with lounging around the +very inviting cafés of the Mexican capital and making friends with such +officials as might be able to drop scraps of information. + +It was November when he first hit Mexico City. It was nearly the middle +of April before he picked up anything at all worth while. Of course, in +the meantime he had uncovered a number of leads--but every one of them +was blind. For a day or two, or a week at most, they would hold out +glowing promise of something big just around the corner. Then, when he +got to the end of the rainbow, he would find an empty pail in place of +the pot of gold he had hoped for. + +It wasn't surprising, therefore, that Stewart was growing tired of the +life of continual mystery, of developments that never developed, of +secrets that were empty and surprises that faded away into nothing. + +It was on the 13th of April, while seated at a little table in front of +a sidewalk café on the Calles de Victoria, that the American agent +obtained his first real clue to the impending disaster. + +When two Mexicans whom he knew by sight, but not by name, sat down at a +table near his he pricked up his ears purely by instinct, rather than +through any real hope of obtaining information of value. + +The arrival of the usual sugared drinks was followed by a few words of +guarded conversation, and then one of the Mexicans remarked, in a tone a +trifle louder than necessary, that "the United States is a nation of +cowardly women, dollar worshipers who are afraid to fight, and braggarts +who would not dare to back up their threats." + +It was an effort for Stewart to remain immersed in the newspaper propped +up in front of him. Often as he had heard these sentiments expressed, +his Southern blood still rose involuntarily--until his logic reminded +him that his mission was not to start a quarrel, but to end one. He knew +that no good could ensue from his taking up the challenge, and the very +fact that the speaker had raised his voice gave him the tip that the +words were uttered for his especial benefit, to find out whether he +understood Spanish--for he made no attempt to disguise his nationality. + +With a smile which did not show on his lips, Stewart summoned the waiter +and in atrocious Spanish ordered another glass of lemonade. His complete +knowledge of the language was the one thing which he had managed to keep +entirely under cover ever since reaching Mexico, for he figured that the +natives would speak more freely in his presence if they believed he +could not gather what they were discussing. + +The trick worked to perfection. + +"Pig-headed Yankee," commented the Mexican who had first spoken. +"Lemonade! Pah!--they haven't the nerve to take a man's drink!" and he +drained his glass of _pulque_ at a single gulp. + +The other, who had not spoken above a whisper, raised his glass and +regarded it in silence for a moment. Then--"Prosit," he said, and drank. + +"_Nom di Dio_," warned his companion. "Be careful! The American hog does +not speak Spanish well enough to understand those who use it fluently, +but he may speak German." + +Stewart smothered a smile behind his paper. Spanish had always been a +hobby of his--but he only knew about three words in German! + +"I understand," continued the Mexican, "that Victoriano is preparing for +the coup, just as I always figured he would" (Stewart knew that +"Victoriano" was the familiar form in which the populace referred to +Victoriano Huerta, self-appointed President of Mexico and the man who +had steadfastly defied the American government in every way possible, +taking care not to allow matters to reach such a hot stage that he could +handle them through diplomatic promises to see that things "improved in +the future"). + +"_El Presidente_ has always been careful to protect himself"--the +speaker went on--"but now that you have brought definite assurance from +our friends that the money and the arms will be forthcoming within the +fortnight there is nothing further to fear from the Yankee pigs. It will +be easy to stir up sentiment against them here overnight, and before +they can mass their handful of troops along the Rio Grande we will have +retaken Texas and wiped out the insult of 'forty-eight. What is the +latest news from the ship?" + +"The ----?" inquired the man across the table, but his Teutonic +intonation of what was evidently a Spanish name was so jumbled that all +Stewart could catch was the first syllable--something that sounded like +"_Eep_." + +"Is that the name?" asked the Mexican. + +"Yes," replied the other. "She sailed from Hamburg on the seventh. +Allowing two weeks for the passage--she isn't fast, you know--that would +bring her into Vera Cruz about the twenty-first. Once there, the arms +can be landed and...." + +The events of the next few minutes moved so rapidly that, when Stewart +had time to catch his breath, he found it difficult to reconstruct the +affair with accuracy. + +He recalled that he had been so interested in the conversation at the +next table that he had failed to notice the approach of the only other +man he knew in the State Department's secret organization--Dawson, who +had been prowling around the West Coast on an errand similar to his. +Before he knew it Dawson had clapped him on the back and exclaimed: +"Hello, Jack! Didn't expect to see you here--thought you'd be looking +over things in the vicinity of the Palace." + +The words themselves were innocent enough, but--they were spoken in +fluent, rapid Spanish and Stewart had shown that he understood! + +"_Sapristi!_" hissed the Mexican. "Did you see?" and he bent forward to +whisper hurriedly to his companion. + +Stewart recovered himself instantly, but the damage had been done. + +"Hello, Dawson," he answered in English, trusting that the men at the +next table had not noted his slip. "Sit down and have something? Rotten +weather, isn't it? And not a lead in sight. These Mexicans seem to be +afraid to enter into any contract that ties them up more than a +year--and eighteen revolutions can happen in that time." + +As Dawson seated himself, Stewart gave him a hasty sign to be careful. +Watching the Mexican and his companion out of the corner of his eye, he +steered the conversation into harmless channels, but a moment later the +pair at the next table called the waiter, gave some whispered +instructions, and left. + +"What's the matter?" asked Dawson. + +"Nothing--except that I involuntarily registered a knowledge of Spanish +when you spoke to me just now, and I've spent several months building up +a reputation for knowing less about the language than anyone in Mexico +City. As luck would have it, there was a couple seated at the next table +who were giving me what sounded like the first real dope I've had since +I got here. I'll tell you about it later. The question now is to get +back to the hotel before that precious pair get in their dirty work. A +code message to Washington is all I ask--but, if I'm not mistaken, we +are going to have our work cut out for us on the way back." + +"Scott! Serious as that, is it?" muttered Dawson. "Well, there are two +of us and I'd like to see their whole dam' army try to stop us. Let's +go!" + +"Wait a minute," counseled Stewart. "There's no real hurry, for they +wouldn't dare try to start anything in the open. In case we get +separated or--if anything should happen--wire the Department in code +that a vessel with a Spanish name--something that begins with 'Eep'--has +cleared Hamburg, loaded with guns and ammunition. Expected at Vera Cruz +about the twenty-first. Germany's behind the whole plot. Now I'll settle +up and we'll move." + +But as he reached for his pocketbook a Mexican swaggering along the +sidewalk deliberately stumbled against his chair and sent him sprawling. +Dawson was on his feet in an instant, his fists clenched and ready for +action. + +But Stewart had noted that the Mexican had three companions and that one +of the men who had occupied the adjoining table was watching the affair +from a vantage point half a block away. + +With a leap that was catlike in its agility, Stewart seized the +swaggering native by the legs in a football tackle, and upset him +against his assistants. + +"Quick, this way!" he called to Dawson, starting up the street away from +the watcher at the far corner. As he ran, his hand slipped into his coat +pocket where the small, but extremely efficient, automatic with which +all government agents are supplied usually rested. But the gun wasn't +there! Apparently it had slipped out in the scuffle a moment before. + +Hardly had he realized that he was unarmed before he and Dawson were +confronted by five other natives coming from the opposite direction. The +meager lighting system of the Mexican capital, however, was rather a +help than a detriment, for in the struggle which followed it was +practically impossible to tell friend from foe. The two Americans, +standing shoulder to shoulder, had the added advantage of +teamwork--something which the natives had never learned. + +"Don't use your gun if you can help it," Stewart warned. "We don't want +the police in on this!" + +As he spoke his fist shot out and the leader of the attacking party +sprawled in the street. No sound came from Dawson, beyond a grunt, as he +landed on the man he had singled out of the bunch. The ten seconds that +followed were jammed with action, punctuated with the shrill cries for +reinforcements from the Mexicans, and brightened here and there by the +dull light from down the street which glinted off the long knives--the +favorite weapon of the Latin-American fighter. + +Stewart and Dawson realized that they must not only fight, but fight +fast. Every second brought closer the arrival of help from the rear, but +Dawson waited until he could hear the reinforcements almost upon them +before he gave the word to break through. Then-- + +"Come on, Jack!" he called. "Let's go!" + +Heads down, fists moving with piston-like precision, the two Americans +plowed their way through. Dawson swore later that he felt at least one +rib give under the impact of the blows and he knew that he nursed a sore +wrist for days, but Stewart claimed that his energies were concentrated +solely on the scrap and that he didn't have time to receive any +impression of what was going on. He knew that he had to fight his way +out--that it was essential for one of them to reach the telegraph office +or the embassy with the news they carried. + +It was a case of fight like the devil and trust to luck and the darkness +for aid. + +Almost before they knew it, they had broken through the trio in front of +them and had turned down the Calles Ancha, running in a form that would +have done credit to a college track team. Behind them they heard the +muffled oaths of their pursuers as they fell over the party they had +just left. + +"They don't want to attract the police any more than we do," gasped +Dawson. "They don't dare shoot!" + +But as he spoke there came the z-z-i-pp of a bullet, accompanied by the +sharp crack of a revolver somewhere behind them. + +"Careful," warned Stewart. "We've got to skirt that street light ahead. +Duck and--" + +But with that he crumpled up, a bullet through his hip. + +Without an instant's hesitation Dawson stooped, swung his companion over +his shoulder, and staggered on, his right hand groping for his +automatic. Once out of the glare of the arc light, he felt that he would +be safe, at least for a moment. + +Then, clattering toward them, he heard a sound that spelled safety--one +of the open nighthawk cabs that prowl around the streets of the Mexican +capital. + +Shifting Stewart so that his feet rested on the ground, he wheeled and +raked the street behind him with a fusillade from his automatic. There +was only a dull mass of whitish clothing some fifty yards away at which +to aim, but he knew that the counter-attack would probably gain a few +precious seconds of time--time sufficient to stop the cab and to put his +plan into operation. + +The moment the cab came into the circle of light from the street lamp +Dawson dragged his companion toward it, seized the horse's bridle with +his free hand and ordered the driver to halt. + +Before the cabby had recovered his wits the two Americans were in the +vehicle and Dawson had his revolver pressed none too gently into the +small of the driver's back. The weapon was empty, but the Mexican +didn't know that, and he responded instantly to Dawson's order to turn +around and drive "as if seventy devils of Hades were after him!" + +Outside of a few stray shots that followed as they disappeared up the +street, the drive to the Embassy was uneventful, and, once under the +shelter of the American flag, the rest was easy. + +Stewart, it developed, had sustained only a flesh wound through the +muscles of his hip--painful, but not dangerous. Within ten minutes after +he had reached O'Shaughnessy's office he was dictating a code wire to +Washington--a cable which stated that a vessel with a Spanish name, +commencing with something that sounded like "Eep," had cleared Hamburg +on the seventh, loaded with arms and ammunition destined to advance the +interests of Mexican revolutionists and to hamper the efforts of the +United States to preserve order south of the border. + +The wire reached Washington at noon of the following day and was +instantly transmitted to Berlin, with instructions to Ambassador Gerard +to look into the matter and report immediately. + + Vessel in question is probably the _Ypiranga_ [stated a code + the following morning]. Cleared Hamburg on date mentioned, + presumably loaded with grain. Rumors here of large shipment + of arms to some Latin American republic. Practically certain + that Wilhelmstrasse is behind the move, but impossible to + obtain confirmation. Motive unknown. + +Ten minutes after this message had been decoded the newspaper +correspondents at the White House noted that a special Cabinet meeting +had been called, but no announcement was made of its purpose or of the +business transacted, beyond the admission that "the insult to the flag +at Tampico had been considered." + +Promptly at noon the great wireless station at Arlington flashed a +message to Admiral Mayo, in command of the squadron off the Mexican +coast. In effect, it read: + + Proceed immediately to Vera Cruz. Await arrival of steamer + _Ypiranga_, loaded with arms. Prevent landing at any cost. + Blockade upon pretext of recent insult to flag. Atlantic + Fleet ordered to your support. + + * * * * * + +"The rest of the story," concluded Quinn, "is a matter of history. How +the fleet bottled up the harbor at Vera Cruz, how it was forced to send +a landing party ashore under fire, and how seventeen American sailors +lost their lives during the guerrilla attack which followed. All that +was spread across the front pages of American papers in big black +type--but the fact that a steamer named the _Ypiranga_ had been held up +by the American fleet and forced to anchor at a safe distance offshore, +under the guns of the flagship, was given little space. Apparently it +was a minor incident--but in reality it was the crux of the whole +situation, an indication of Germany's rancor, which was to burst its +bounds before four months had passed, another case in which the arm of +Uncle Sam had been long enough to stretch halfway across a continent and +nip impending disaster." + +"But," I inquired, as he paused, "what became of Dawson and Stewart?" + +"That I don't know," replied Quinn. "The last time I heard of Jack he +had a captain's commission in France and was following up his feud with +the Hun that started in Mexico City four months before the rest of the +world dreamed of war. Dawson, I believe, is still in the Department, and +rendered valuable assistance in combating German propaganda in Chile and +Peru. He'll probably be rewarded with a consular job in some +out-of-the-way hole, for, now that the war is over, the organization to +which he belongs will gradually dwindle to its previous small +proportions. + +"Strange, wasn't it, how that pair stumbled across one of the first +tentacles of the World War in front of a café in Mexico City? That's one +beauty of government detective work--you never know when the monotony is +going to be blown wide open by the biggest thing you ever happened upon. + +"There was little Mary McNilless, who turned up the clue which prevented +an explosion, compared to which the Black Tom affair would have been a +Sunday-school party. She never dreamed that she would prevent the loss +of millions of dollars' worth of property and at least a score of lives, +but she did--without moving from her desk." + +"How?" I asked. + +But Quinn yawned, looked at his watch, and said: "That's entirely too +long a story to spin right now. It's past my bedtime, and Mrs. Quinn's +likely to be fussy if I'm not home by twelve at least. She says that now +I have an office job she can at least count on my being round to guard +the house--something that she never could do before. So let's leave Mary +for another time. Goodnight"--and he was off. + + + + +IV + +THE CLUE ON SHELF 45 + + +"Of course, it is possible that patriotism might have prompted Mary +McNilless to locate the clue which prevented an explosion that would +have seriously hampered the munitions industry of the United States--but +the fact remains that she did it principally because she was in love +with Dick Walters, and Dick happened to be in the Secret Service. It was +one case where Cupid scored over Mars." + +Bill Quinn eased the game leg which he won as the trophy of a +counterfeiting raid some years before into a more comfortable position, +reached for his pipe and tobacco pouch, and settled himself for another +reminiscence of the Service with which he had formerly been actively +connected. + +"Mary was--and doubtless still is--one of those red-headed, blue-eyed +Irish beauties whom nature has peppered with just enough freckles to +make them alluring, evidences that the sun itself couldn't help kissing +her. But, from all I've been able to gather, the sun was in a class by +itself. Until Dick Walters came upon the scene, Miss McNilless held +herself strictly aloof from masculine company and much preferred to +spend an evening with her books than to take a trip to Coney or any of +the other resorts where a girl's kisses pass as current coin in payment +for three or four hours' outing. + +"Dick was just the kind of chap that would have appealed to Mary, or to +'most any other girl, for that matter. Maybe you remember him. He used +to be at the White House during Taft's regime, but they shifted most of +the force soon after Wilson came in and Dick was sent out to the Coast +on an opium hunt that kept him busy for more than a year. In fact, he +came east just in time to be assigned to the von Ewald case--and, +incidentally, to fall foul of Mary and Cupid, a pair that you couldn't +tie, much less beat." + + * * * * * + +The von Ewald case [Quinn continued, after pausing a moment to repack +his pipe] was one of the many exploits of the Secret Service that never +got in the papers. To be strictly truthful, it wasn't as much a triumph +for the S. S. as it was for Mary McNilless--and, besides, we weren't at +war with Germany at that time, so it had to be kept rather dark. + +But Germany was at war with us. You remember the Black Tom explosion in +August, nineteen sixteen? Well, if the plans of von Ewald and his +associates hadn't been frustrated by a little red-headed girl with +exceptional powers of observation, there would have been a detonation in +Wilmington, Delaware, that would have made the Black Tom affair, with +its damage of thirty millions of dollars, sound like the college yell of +a deaf-and-dumb institute. + +As far back as January, nineteen sixteen, the Secret Service knew that +there were a number of Germans in New York who desired nothing so much +as to hinder the munitions industry of the United States, despite the +fact that we were a neutral nation. + +From Harry Newton, the leader in the second plot to destroy the Welland +Canal, and from Paul Seib, who was implicated in the attempt to destroy +shipping at Hoboken, they forced the information that the conspirators +received their orders and drew their pay from a man of many aliases, +known to his associates as "Number eight fifty-nine" and occasionally, +to the world at large, as "von Ewald." + +This much was known in Washington--but, when you came to analyze the +information, it didn't amount to a whole lot. It's one thing to know +that some one is plotting murder and arson on a wholesale scale, but +discovering the identity of that individual is an entirely different +proposition, one which called for all the finesse and obstinacy for +which the governmental detective services are famous. + +Another factor that complicated the situation was that speed was +essential. The problem was entirely different from a counterfeiting or +smuggling case, where you can be content to let the people on the other +side of the table make as many moves as they wish, with the practical +certainty that you'll land them sooner or later. "Give them plenty of +rope and they'll land in Leavenworth" is a favorite axiom in the +Service--but here you had to conserve your rope to the uttermost. Every +day that passed meant that some new plot was that much nearer +completion--that millions of dollars in property and the lives of +no-one-knew-how-many people were still in danger. + +So the order went forward from the headquarters of the Service, "Get the +man known as von Ewald and get him quick!" + +Secret Service men, Postal inspectors, and Department of Justice agents +were called in from all parts of the country and rushed to New York, +until the metropolis looked like the headquarters of a convention of +governmental detectives. Grogan, the chap that landed Perry, the +master-counterfeiter, was there, as were George MacMasters and Sid +Shields, who prevented the revolution in Cuba three or four years ago. +Jimmy Reynolds was borrowed from the Internal Revenue Bureau, and +Althouse, who spoke German like a native, was brought up from the +border where he had been working on a propaganda case just across the +line. + +There must have been forty men turned loose on this assignment alone, +and, in the course of the search for von Ewald, there were a number of +other developments scarcely less important than the main issue. At least +two of these--the Trenton taxicab tangle and the affair of the girl at +the switchboard--are exploits worthy of separate mention. + +But, in spite of the great array of detective talent, no one could get a +line on von Ewald. + +In April, when Dick Walters returned from the Coast, the other men in +the Service were frankly skeptical as to whether there was a von Ewald +at all. They had come to look upon him as a myth, a bugaboo. They +couldn't deny that there must be some guiding spirit to the Teutonic +plots, but they rather favored the theory that several men, rather than +one, were to blame. + +Walters' instructions were just like the rest--to go to New York and +stick on the job until the German conspirator was apprehended. + +"Maybe it's one man, maybe there're half a dozen," the chief admitted, +"but we've got to nail 'em. The very fact that they haven't started +anything of consequence since the early part of the year would appear to +point to renewed activity very shortly. It's up to you and the other men +already in New York to prevent the success of any of these plots." + +Walters listened patiently to all the dope that had been gathered and +then figured, as had every new man, that it was up to him to do a little +sleuthing of his own. + +The headquarters of the German agents was supposed to be somewhere in +Greenwich Village, on one of those half-grown alleys that always +threatens to meet itself coming back. But more than a score of +government operatives had combed that part of the town without securing +a trace of anything tangible. On the average of once a night the phone +at headquarters would ring and some one at the other end would send in a +hurry call for help up in the Bronx or in Harlem or some other distant +part of the city where he thought he had turned up a clue. The men on +duty would leap into the machine that always waited at the curb and +fracture every speed law ever made--only to find, when they arrived, +that it was a false alarm. + +Finally, after several weeks of that sort of thing, conditions commenced +to get on Dick's nerves. + +"I'm going to tackle this thing on my own," he announced. "Luck is going +to play as much of a part in landing von Ewald as anything else--and +luck never hunted with more than one man. Good-by! See you fellows +later." + +But it was a good many weeks--August, to be precise--before the men in +the Federal Building had the opportunity of talking to Walters. He would +report over the phone, of course, and drop down there every few +days--but he'd only stay long enough to find out if there was any real +news or any orders from Washington. Then he'd disappear uptown. + +"Dick's sure got a grouch these days," was the comment that went around +after Walters had paid one of his flying visits. + +"Yeh," grunted Barry, who was on duty that night, "either the von Ewald +case's got on his nerves or he's found a girl that can't see him." + +Neither supposition missed the mark very far. + +Walters was getting sick and tired of the apparently fruitless chase +after an elusive German. He had never been known to flinch in the face +of danger--often went out of his way to find it, in fact--but this +constant search for a man whom nobody knew, a man of whom there wasn't +the slightest description, was nerve-racking, to say the least. + +Then, too, he had met Mary McNilless. + +He'd wandered into the Public Library one evening just before closing +time, and, like many another man, had fallen victim to Mary's red hair +and Mary's Irish eyes. But a brick wall was a soft proposition compared +to Mary McNilless. Snubbing good-looking young men who thought that the +tailors were missing an excellent model was part of the day's work with +the little library girl--though she secretly admitted to herself that +this one was a bit above the average. + +Dick didn't get a rise that night, though, or for some days after. Every +evening at seven found him at the desk over which Miss McNilless +presided, framing some almost intelligent question about books in order +to prolong the conversation. Mary would answer politely and--that was +all. + +But, almost imperceptibly, a bond of friendship sprang up between them. +Maybe it was the fact that Dick's mother had been Irish, too, or +possibly it was because he admitted to himself that this girl was +different from the rest, and, admitting it, laid the foundation for a +deep-souled respect that couldn't help but show in his manner. + +Within the month Dick was taking her home, and in six weeks they were +good pals, bumming around to queer, out-of-the-way restaurants and +planning outings which Dick, in his heart, knew could never +materialize--not until von Ewald had been run to cover, at any rate. + +Several times Mary tried to find out her companion's +profession--diplomatically, of course, but nevertheless she was curious. +Naturally, Dick couldn't tell her. Said he had "just finished a job on +the Coast and was taking a vacation in New York." But Mary had sense +enough to know that he wasn't at leisure. Also that he was working on +something that kept his mind constantly active--for several times he had +excused himself in a hurry and then returned, anywhere from half an hour +to an hour later, with a rather crestfallen expression. + +After they had reached the "Dick and Mary" stage she came right out one +night and asked him. + +"Hon," he told her, "that's one thing that I've got to keep from you for +a while. It's nothing that you would be ashamed of, though, but +something that will make you mighty proud. At least," he added, "It'll +make you proud if I don't fall down on the job almighty hard. Meanwhile, +all I can do is to ask you to trust me. Will you?" + +The tips of her fingers rested on the back of his hand for just a moment +before she said, "You know I will, Dick"--and neither of them mentioned +the subject from that time on. + +On the night of the Black Tom explosion, early in August, Dick didn't +show up at the Library at the usual hour, and, while this didn't worry +Mary, because it had happened several times before, she began to be +annoyed when three nights passed the same way. Of course, she had no way +of knowing that the Service had received a tip from a stool pigeon on +the pay roll of the New York police force that "a bunch of Germans were +planning a big explosion of some kind" just a few hours before the earth +rocked with the force of the blow-up in Jersey. Every government +operative in the city had been informed of the rumor, but few of them +had taken it seriously and not one had any reason to expect that the +plot would culminate so close to New York. But the echo of the first +blast had hardly died away before there were a dozen agents on the spot, +weaving a network around the entire district. All they got for their +pains, however, was a few suspects who very evidently didn't know a +thing. + +So it was a very tired and disgusted Dick who entered the Library four +nights later and almost shambled up to Mary's desk. + +"I'll be off duty in half an hour," she told him. "From the way you +look, you need a little comforting." + +"I do that," he admitted. "Don't make me wait any longer than you have +to," and he amused himself by glancing over the late seekers after +knowledge. + +When they had finally seated themselves in a cozy corner of a little +restaurant in the upper Forties, Dick threw caution to the winds and +told Mary all about his troubles. + +"I haven't the least business to do it," he confessed, "and if the chief +found it out I'd be bounced so fast that it would make my head swim. +But, in the first place, I want you to marry me, and I know you wouldn't +think of doing that unless you knew something more about me." + +There was just the flicker of a smile around Mary's mouth as she said, +almost perfunctorily, "No, of course not!" But her intuition told her +that this wasn't the time to joke, and, before Walters could go on, she +added, "I know you well enough, Dick, not to worry about that end of +it." + +So Walters told her everything from the beginning--and it didn't take +more than five minutes at that. Outside of the fact that his people +lived in Des Moines, that he had been in the Secret Service for eight +years, and that he hadn't been able to do a thing toward the +apprehension of a certain German spy that the government was extremely +anxious to locate, there was pitifully little to tell. + +"The whole thing," he concluded, "came to a head the other night--the +night I didn't show up. We knew that something was going to break, +somewhere, but we couldn't discover where until it was too late to +prevent the explosion across the river. Now that they've gotten away +with that, they'll probably lay their lines for something even bigger." + +"Well, now that I've told you, what d'you think?" + +"You mean you'd like to marry me?" Mary asked with a smile. + +"I don't know how to put it any plainer," Dick admitted--and what +followed caused the waiter to wheel around and suddenly commence dusting +off a table that already was bright enough to see your face in. + +"There wasn't the slightest clue left after the Black Tom affair?" Mary +asked, as she straightened her hat. + +"Not one. We did find two of the bombs that hadn't exploded--devilishly +clever arrangements, with a new combination of chemicals. Something was +evidently wrong with the mixture, though, for they wouldn't go off, even +when our experts started to play with them. The man who made them +evidently wasn't quite sure of his ground. But there wasn't a thing +about the bombs themselves that would provide any indication of where +they came from." + +"The man who made them must have had a pretty thorough knowledge of +chemistry," Mary mused. + +"Mighty near perfect," admitted Walters. "At least six exploded on time, +and, from what I understand, they were loaded to the muzzle with a +mixture that no one but an expert would dare handle." + +"And," continued Mary, with just a hint of excitement in her voice, "the +bomb-maker would continue to investigate the subject. He would want to +get the latest information, the most recent books, the--" + +"What are you driving at?" Walters interrupted. + +"Just this," and Mary leaned across the table so that there was no +possibility of being overheard. "We girls have a good deal of time on +our hands, so we get into the habit of making conjectures and forming +theories about the 'regulars'--the people who come into the Library +often enough for us to know them by sight. + +"Up to a month ago there was a man who dropped into the reference room +nearly every day to consult books from Shelf Forty-five. Naturally he +came up to my desk, and, as he usually arrived during the slack periods, +I had plenty of time to study him. Maybe it was because I had been +reading Lombroso, or possibly it's because I am just naturally +observant, but I noticed that, in addition to each of his ears being +practically lobeless, one of them was quite pointed at the top--almost +like a fox's. + +"For a week he didn't show up, and then one day another man came in and +asked for a book from Shelf Forty-five. Just as he turned away I had a +shock. Apparently he wasn't in the least like the other man in anything +save height--but neither of his ears had any lobes to speak of and the +top of them was pointed! When he returned the book I looked him over +pretty thoroughly and came to the conclusion that, in spite of the fact +that his general appearance differed entirely from the other man's, they +were really one and the same!" + +"But what," grumbled Walters, "has that to do with the Black Tom +explosion?" + +"The last time this man came to the Library," said Mary, "was two days +before the night you failed to arrive--two days before the explosion. +And--Do you know what books are kept on Shelf Forty-five?" + +"No. What?" + +"The latest works on the chemistry of explosives!" + +Walters sat up with a jerk that threatened to overthrow the table. + +"Mary," he said, in a whisper, "I've a hunch that you've succeeded where +all the rest of us fell down! The disguises and the constant reference +to books on explosives are certainly worth looking into. What name did +this man give?" + +"Names," she corrected. "I don't recall what they were or the addresses, +either. But it would be easy to find them on the cards. We don't have +very many calls for books from Shelf Forty-five." + +"It doesn't matter, though," and Walters slipped back into his +disconsolate mood. "He wouldn't leave a lead as open as that, of +course." + +"No, certainly not," agreed Mary. "But the last time he was there he +asked for Professor Stevens's new book. It hadn't come in then, but I +told him we expected it shortly. So, unless you men have scared him off, +he'll be back in a day or two--possibly in a new disguise. Why don't you +see the librarian, get a place as attendant in the reference room, and +I'll tip you off the instant I spot that pointed ear. That's one thing +he can't hide!" + +The next morning there was a new employee in the reference room. No one +knew where he came from and no one--save the librarian and Mary +McNilless--knew what he was there for, because his principal occupation +appeared to be lounging around inconspicuously in the neighborhood of +the information desk. There he stayed for three days, wondering whether +this clue, like all the rest, would dissolve into thin air. + +About five o'clock on the afternoon of the third day a man strolled up +to Mary's desk and asked if Professor Stevens's book had come in yet. It +was reposing at that moment on Shelf Forty-five, as Mary well knew, but +she said she'd see, and left the room, carefully arranging her hair at +the back of her neck with her left hand--a signal which she and Dick had +agreed upon the preceding evening. + +Before she returned the new attendant had vanished, but Dick Walters, in +his usual garb, was loitering around the only entrance to the reference +room, watching the suspect out of the corner of his eye. + +"I'm sorry," Mary reported, "but the Stevens book won't be in until +to-morrow," and she was barely able to keep the anxiety out of her voice +as she spoke. + +Had Dick gotten her signal? Would he be able to trail his man? Could he +capture him without being injured? These and a score of other questions +rushed through her mind as she saw the German leave the room. Once +outside--well, she'd have to wait for Dick to tell her what happened +then. + +The man who was interested in the chemistry of explosives apparently +wasn't in the least afraid of being followed, for he took a bus uptown, +alighted at Eighty-third Street, and vanished into one of the +innumerable small apartment houses in that section of the city. Walters +kept close behind him, and he entered the lobby of the apartment house +in time to hear his quarry ascending to the fourth floor. Then he +signaled to the four men who had followed him up the Avenue in a +government-owned machine--men who had been stationed outside the Library +in the event of just such an occurrence--and instructed two of them to +guard the rear of the house, while the other two remained in front. + +"I'm going to make this haul myself," Walters stated, "but I want you +boys to cover up in case anything happens to me. No matter what occurs, +don't let him get away. Shoot first and ask questions afterward!" and he +had re-entered the house almost before he finished speaking. + +On the landing at the third floor he paused long enough to give the men +at the rear a chance to get located. Then--a quick ring at the bell on +the fourth floor and he waited for action. + +Nothing happened. Another ring--and still no response. + +As he pressed the button for the third time the door swung slowly +inward, affording only a glimpse of a dark, uninviting hall. But, once +he was inside, the door closed silently and he heard a bolt slipped into +place. Simultaneously a spot light, arranged over the doorway, flashed +on and Dick was almost dazzled by the glare. Out of the darkness came +the guttural inquiry: + +"What do you want?" + +"Not a thing in the world," replied Walters, "except to know if a man +named Simpson lives here." + +"No," came the voice, "he does not. Get out!" + +"Sure I will if you'll pull back that bolt. What's the idea, anyhow? +You're as mysterious as if you were running a bomb factory or +something--" + +As he spoke he ducked, for if the words had the effect he hoped, the +other would realize that he was cornered and attempt to escape. + +A guttural German oath, followed by a rapid movement of the man's hand +toward his hip pocket was the reply. In a flash Dick slipped forward, +bending low to avoid the expected attack, and seized the German in a +half nelson that defied movement. Backing out of the circle of light, he +held the helpless man in front of him--as a shelter in case of an +attack from other occupants of the apartment--and called for assistance. +The crash of glass at the rear told him that reinforcements had made +their way up the fire escape and had broken in through the window. A +moment later came the sound of feet on the stairs and the other two +operatives were at the door, revolvers drawn and ready for action. + +But there wasn't any further struggle. Von Ewald--or whatever his real +name was, for that was never decided--was alone and evidently realized +that the odds were overwhelming. Meekly, almost placidly, he allowed the +handcuffs to be slipped over his wrists and stood by as the Secret +Service men searched the apartment. Not a line or record was found to +implicate anyone else--but what they did discover was a box filled with +bombs precisely like those picked up on the scene of the Black Tom +explosion, proof sufficient to send the German to the penitentiary for +ten years--for our laws, unfortunately, do not permit of the death +penalty for spies unless caught red-handed by the military authorities. + +That he was the man for whom they were searching--the mysterious "No. +859"--was apparent from the fact that papers concealed in his desk +contained full details as to the arrangement of the Nemours plant at +Wilmington, Delaware, with a dozen red dots indicative of the best +places to plant bombs. Of his associates and the manner in which he +managed his organization there wasn't the slightest trace. But the Black +Tom explosion, if you recall, was the last big catastrophe of its kind +in America--and the capture of von Ewald was the reason that more of the +German plots didn't succeed. + +The Treasury Department realized this fact when Mary McNilless, on the +morning of the day she was to be married to Dick Walters, U. S. S. S., +received a very handsome chest of silver, including a platter engraved, +"To Miss Mary McNilless, whose cleverness and keen perception saved +property valued at millions of dollars." + +No one ever found out who sent it, but it's a safe bet that the order +came from Washington by way of Wilmington, where the Nemours plant still +stands--thanks to the quickness of Mary's Irish eyes. + + + + +V + +PHYLLIS DODGE, SMUGGLER EXTRAORDINARY + + +Bill Quinn tossed aside his evening paper and, cocking his feet upon a +convenient chair, remarked that, now that peace was finally signed, +sealed, and delivered, there ought to be a big boom in the favorite +pastime of the idle rich. + +"Meaning what?" I inquired. + +"Smuggling, of course," said Quinn, who only retired from Secret Service +when an injury received in action forced him to do so. + +"Did you ever travel on a liner when four out of every five people on +board didn't admit that they were trying to beat the customs officials +one way or another--and the only reason the other one didn't follow suit +was because he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. That's how Uncle +Sam's detectives pick up a lot of clues. The amateur crook never +realizes that silence is golden and that oftentimes speech leads to a +heavy fine. + +"Now that the freedom of the seas is an accomplished fact the whole crew +of would-be smugglers will doubtless get to work again, only to be +nabbed in port. Inasmuch as ocean travel has gone up with the rest of +the cost of living, it'll probably be a sport confined to the +comparatively rich, for a couple of years anyhow. + +"It was different in the old days. Every steamer that came in was loaded +to the eyes and you never knew when you were going to spot a hidden +necklace or a packet of diamonds that wasn't destined to pay duty. There +were thrills to the game, too, believe me. + +"Why, just take the case of Phyllis Dodge...." + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Dodge [Quinn continued, after he had packed his pipe to a condition +where it was reasonably sure to remain lighted for some time] was, +theoretically at least, a widow. Her full name, as it appeared on many +passenger lists during the early part of 1913, was Mrs. Mortimer C. +Dodge, of Cleveland, Ohio. When the customs officials came to look into +the matter they weren't able to find anyone in Cleveland who knew her, +but then it's no penal offense to give the purser a wrong address, or +even a wrong name, for that matter. + +While there may have been doubts about Mrs. Dodge's widowhood--or +whether she had ever been married, for that matter--there could be none +about her beauty. In the language of the classics, she was there. Black +hair, brown eyes, a peaches-and-cream complexion that came and went +while you watched it, and a figure that would have made her fortune in +the Follies. Joe Gregory said afterward that trailing her was one of the +easiest things he had ever done. + +To get the whole story of Phyllis and her extraordinary +cleverness--extraordinary because it was so perfectly obvious--we'll +have to cut back a few months before she came on the scene. + +For some time the Treasury Department had been well aware that a number +of precious stones, principally pearl necklaces, were being smuggled +into the country. Agents abroad--the department maintains a regular +force in Paris, London, Rotterdam, and other European points, you +know--had reported the sale of the jewels and they had turned up a few +weeks later in New York or Chicago. But the Customs Service never +considers it wise to trace stones back from their owners on this side. +There are too many ramifications to any well-planned smuggling scheme, +and it is too easy for some one to claim that he had found them in a +long-forgotten chest in the attic or some such story as that. The burden +of proof rests upon the government in a case of this kind and, except in +the last extremity, it always tries to follow the chase from the other +end--to nab the smuggler in the act and thus build up a jury-proof case. + +Reports of the smuggling cases had been filtered into the department +half a dozen times in as many months, and the matter finally got on the +chief's nerves to such a degree that he determined to thrash it out if +it took every man he had. + +In practically every case the procedure was the same--though the only +principals known were different each time. + +Rotterdam, for example, would report: "Pearl necklace valued at $40,000, +sold to-day to man named Silverburg. Have reason to believe it is +destined for States"--and then would follow a technical description of +the necklace. Anywhere from six weeks to three months later the necklace +would turn up in the possession of a jeweler who bore a shady +reputation. Sometimes the article wouldn't appear at all, which might +have been due to the fact that they weren't brought into this country or +that the receivers had altered them beyond recognition. However, the +European advices pointed to the latter supposition--which didn't soothe +the chief's nerves the least bit. + +Finally, along in the middle of the spring of nineteen thirteen, there +came a cable from Paris announcing the sale of the famous Yquem +emerald--a gorgeous stone that you couldn't help recognizing once you +got the description. The purchaser was reported to be an American named +Williamson. He paid cash for it, so his references and his antecedents +were not investigated at the time. + +Sure enough, it wasn't two months later when a report came in from +Chicago that a pork-made millionaire had added to his collection a stone +which tallied to the description of the Yquem emerald. + +"Shall we go after it from this end, Chief?" inquired one of the men on +the job in Washington. "We can make the man who bought it tell us where +he got it and then sweat the rest of the game out of the go-betweens." + +"Yes," snorted the chief, "and be laughed out of court on some +trumped-up story framed by a well-paid lawyer. Not a chance! I'm going +to land those birds and land 'em with the goods. We can't afford to take +any chances with this crowd. They've evidently got money and brains, a +combination that you've got to stay awake nights to beat. No--we'll nail +'em in New York just as they're bringing the stones in. + +"Send a wire to Gregory to get on the job at once and tell New York to +turn loose every man they've got--though they've been working on the +case long enough, Heaven knows!" + +The next morning when Gregory and his society manner strolled into the +customhouse in New York he found the place buzzing. Evidently the +instructions from Washington had been such as to make the entire force +fear for their jobs unless the smuggling combination was broken up +quickly. It didn't take Joe very long to get the details. They weren't +many and he immediately discarded the idea of possible collusion between +the buyers of the stones abroad. It looked to be a certainty on the face +of it, but, once you had discovered that, what good did it do you? It +wasn't possible to jail a man just because he bought some jewels in +Europe--and, besides, the orders from Washington were very clear that +the case was to be handled strictly from this side--at least, the final +arrest was to be made on American soil, to avoid extradition +complications and the like. + +So when Joe got all the facts they simply were that some valuable jewels +had been purchased in Europe and had turned up in America, without going +through the formality of visiting the customhouse, anywhere from six +weeks to three months later. + +"Not much to work on," grumbled Gregory, "and I suppose, as usual, that +the chief will be as peevish as Hades if we don't nab the guilty party +within the week." + +"It's more than possible," admitted one of the men who had handled the +case. + +Gregory studied the dates on which the jewels had been purchased and +those on which they had been located in this country for a few moments +in silence. Then: + +"Get me copies of the passenger lists of every steamer that has docked +here in the past year," he directed. "Of course it's possible that these +things might have been landed at Boston or Philadelphia, but New York's +the most likely port." + +When the lists had been secured Gregory stuffed them into his suit case +and started for the door. + +"Where you going?" inquired McMahon, the man in charge of the New York +office. + +"Up to the Adirondacks for a few days," Gregory replied. + +"What's the idea? Think the stuff is being brought over by airplane and +landed inland? Liners don't dock upstate, you know." + +"No," said Gregory, "but that's where I'm going to dock until I can +digest this stuff," and he tapped his suit case. "Somewhere in this +bunch of booklets there's a clue to this case and it's up to me to spot +it. Good-by." + +Five days later when he sauntered back into the New York office the suit +case was surprisingly light. Apparently every one of the passenger lists +had vanished. As a matter of fact, they had been boiled down to three +names which were carefully inscribed in Joe's notebook. + +"Did you pick up any jewels in the Catskills?" was the question that +greeted him when he entered. + +"Wasn't in the Catskills," he growled. "Went up to a camp in the +Adirondacks--colder'n blazes. Any more stuff turn up?" + +"No, but a wire came from Washington just after you left to watch out +for a hundred-thousand-dollar string of pearls sold at a private auction +in London last week to an American named--" + +"I don't care what _his_ name was," Gregory cut in. "What was the date +they were sold?" + +"The sixteenth." + +Gregory glanced at the calendar. + +"And to-day is the twenty-second," he mused. "What boats are due in the +next three days?" + +"The _Cretic_ docks this afternoon and the _Tasmania_ ought to get in +to-morrow. That'll be all until the end of the week." + +"Right!" snapped Gregory. "Don't let a soul off the _Cretic_ until I've +had a look at her passenger list. It's too late to go down the harbor +now, but not a person's to get off that ship until I've had a chance to +look 'em over. Also cable for a copy of the _Tasmania's_ passenger list. +Hurry it up!" + +Less than ten minutes after he had slipped on board the _Cretic_, +however, Gregory gave the signal which permitted the gangplank to be +lowered and the passengers to proceed as usual--except for the fact that +the luggage of everyone and the persons of not a few were searched with +more than the average carefulness. But not a trace of the pearls was +found, as Joe had anticipated. A careful inspection of the passenger +list and a few moments with the purser had convinced him that none of +his three suspects were on board. + +Shortly after he returned to the office, the list of the _Tasmania's_ +passengers began to come over the cables. Less than half a page had been +received when Gregory uttered a sudden exclamation, reached for his +notebook, compared a name in it with one which appeared on the cabled +report, and indulged in the luxury of a deep-throated chuckle. + +"Greg's got a nibble somewhere," commented one of the bystanders. + +"Yes," admitted his companion, "but landin' the fish is a different +matter. Whoever's on the other end of that line is a mighty cagy +individual." + +But, though he undoubtedly overheard the remark, Gregory didn't seem to +be the least bit worried. In fact, his hat was at a more rakish angle +than usual and his cane fairly whistled through the air as he wandered +up the Avenue half an hour later. + +The next the customs force heard of him was when he boarded the +quarantine boat the next morning, clambering on the liner a little later +with all the skill of a pilot. + +"You have a passenger on board by the name of Dodge," he informed the +purser, after he had shown his badge. "Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge. What do +you know about her?" + +"Not a thing in the world," said the purser, "except that she is a most +beautiful and apparently attractive woman. Crossed with us once +before--" + +"Twice," corrected Gregory. "Came over in January and went right back." + +"That's right," said the purser, "so she did. I'd forgotten that. But, +beyond that fact, there isn't anything that I can add." + +"Seem to be familiar with anyone on board?" + +"Not particularly. Mixes with the younger married set and I've noticed +her on deck with the Mortons quite frequently. Probably met them on her +return trip last winter. They were along then, if I remember rightly." + +"Thanks," said the customs operative. "You needn't mention anything +about my inquiries, of course," and he mixed with the throng of +newspaper reporters who were picking up news in various sections of the +big vessel. + +When the _Tasmania_ docked, Gregory was the first one off. + +"Search Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge to the skin," he directed the matron. +"Take down her hair, tap the heels of her shoes, and go through all the +usual stunts, but be as gentle as you can about it. Say that we've +received word that some uncut diamonds--not pearls, mind you--are +concealed on the _Tasmania_ and that orders have been given to go over +everybody thoroughly. Pass the word along the line to give out the same +information, so she won't be suspicious. I don't think you'll find +anything, but you never can tell." + +At that, Joe was right. The matron didn't locate a blessed thing out of +the way. Mrs. Dodge had brought in a few dutiable trinkets, but they +were all down on her declaration, and within the hour she was headed +uptown in a taxi, accompanied by a maid who had met her as she stepped +out of the customs office. + +Not far behind them trailed another taxi, top up and Gregory's eyes +glued to the window behind the chauffeur. + +The first machine finally drew up at the Astor, and Mrs. Dodge and the +maid went in, followed by a pile of luggage which had been searched +until it was a moral certainty that not a needle would have been +concealed in it. + +Gregory waited until they were out of sight and then followed. + +In answer to his inquiries at the desk he learned that Mrs. Dodge had +stopped at the hotel several times before and the house detective +assured him that there was nothing suspicious about her conduct. + +"How about the maid?" inquired Gregory. + +"Don't know a thing about her, either, except that she is the same one +she had before. Pretty little thing, too--though not as good-looking as +her mistress." + +For the next three days Joe hung around the hotel or followed the lady +from the _Tasmania_ wherever she went. Something in the back of his +head--call it intuition or a hunch or whatever you please, but it's the +feeling that a good operative gets when he's on the right trail--told +him that he was "warm," as the kids say. Appearances seemed to deny that +fact. Mrs. Dodge went only to the most natural places--a few visits to +the stores, a couple to fashionable modistes and milliners, and some +drives through the Park, always accompanied by her maid and always in +the most sedate and open manner. + +But on the evening of the third day the house detective tipped Joe off +that his prey was leaving in the morning. + +"Guess she's going back to Europe," reported the house man. "Gave orders +to have a taxi ready at nine and her trunks taken down to the docks +before them. Better get busy if you want to land her." + +"I'm not ready for that just yet," Gregory admitted with a scowl. + +When Mrs. Dodge's taxi drove off the following morning Joe wasn't far +away, and, acting on orders which he had delivered over the phone, no +less than half a dozen operatives watched the lady and the maid very +closely when they reached the dock. + +Not a thing came of it, however. Both of them went to the stateroom +which had been reserved and the maid remained to help with the unpacking +until the "All-ashore-that-'re-going-ashore" was bellowed through the +boat. Then she left and stood on the pier until the ship had cleared the +dock. + +"It beats me," muttered Gregory. "But I'm willing to gamble my job that +I'm right." And that night he wired to Washington to keep a close +lookout for the London pearls, adding that he felt certain they would +turn up before long. + +"In that case," muttered the chief at the other end of the wire, "why in +Heaven's name didn't he get them when they came in?" + +Sure enough, not a fortnight had passed before St. Louis reported that a +string of pearls, perfectly matched, answering to the description of the +missing jewels, had been offered for sale there through private +channels. + +The first reaction was a telegram to Gregory that fairly burned the +wires, short but to the point. "Either the man who smuggled that +necklace or your job in ten days," it read. + +And Gregory replied, "Give me three weeks and you'll have one or the +other." + +Meanwhile he had been far from inactive. Still playing his hunch that +Phyllis Dodge had something to do with the smuggling game, he had put in +time cultivating the only person on this side that appeared to know +her--the maid. + +It was far from a thankless task, for Alyce--she spelled it with a +"y"--was pretty and knew it. Furthermore, she appeared to be entirely +out of her element in a cheap room on Twenty-fourth Street. Most of the +time she spent in wandering up the Avenue, and it was there that Gregory +made her acquaintance--through the expedient of bumping her bag out of +her hands and restoring it with one of his courtly bows. The next minute +he was strolling alongside, remarking on the beauty of the weather. + +But, although he soon got to know Alyce well enough to take her to the +theater and to the cabarets, it didn't seem to get him anywhere. She was +perfectly frank about her position. Said she was a hair dresser by trade +and that she acted as lady's maid to a Mrs. Dodge, who spent the better +part of her time abroad. + +"In fact," she said, "Mrs. Dodge is only here three or four days every +two months or so." + +"And she pays you for your time in between?" + +"Oh yes," Alyce replied; "she's more than generous." + +"I should say she was," Gregory thought to himself--but he considered it +best to change the subject. + +During the days that followed, Joe exerted every ounce of his +personality in order to make the best possible impression. Posing as a +man who had made money in the West, he took Alyce everywhere and treated +her royally. Finally, when he considered the time ripe, he injected a +little love into the equation and hinted that he thought it was about +time to settle down and that he appeared to have found the proper person +to settle with. + +But there, for the first time, Alyce balked. She didn't refuse him, but +she stated in so many words that she had a place that suited her for the +time being, and that, until the fall, at least, she preferred to keep on +with it. + +"That suits me all right," declared Gregory. "Take your time about it. +Meanwhile we'll continue to be good friends and trail around together, +eh?" + +"Certainly," said Alyce, "er--that is--until Tuesday." + +"Tuesday?" inquired Joe. "What's coming off Tuesday?" + +"Mrs. Dodge will arrive on the _Atlantic_," was the reply, "and I'll +have to be with her for three days at least." + +"Three days--" commenced Gregory, and halted himself. It wasn't wise to +show too much interest. But that night he called the chief on long +distance and inquired if there had been any recent reports of suspicious +jewel sales abroad. "Yes," came the voice from Washington, "pearls +again. Loose ones, this time. And your three weeks' grace is up at noon +Saturday." The click that followed as the receiver hung up was finality +itself. + +The same procedure, altered in a few minor details, was followed when +Mrs. Dodge landed. Again she was searched to the skin; again her luggage +was gone over with microscopic care, and again nothing was found. + +This time she stayed at the Knickerbocker, but Alyce was with her as +usual. + +Deprived of his usual company and left to his own devices, Gregory took +a long walk up the Drive and tried to thrash out the problem. + +"Comes over on a different boat almost every trip," he thought, "so that +eliminates collusion with any of the crew. Doesn't stay at the same +hotel two times running, so there's nothing there. Has the same maid and +always returns--" + +Then it was that motorists on Riverside Drive were treated to the sight +of a young and extremely prepossessing man, dressed in the height of +fashion, throwing his hat in the air and uttering a yell that could be +heard for blocks. After which he disappeared hurriedly in the direction +of the nearest drug store. + +A hasty search through the phone book gave him the number he wanted--the +offices of the Black Star line. + +"Is Mr. MacPherson, the purser of the _Atlantic_, there?" he inquired. +Then: "Hello! Mr. MacPherson? This is Gregory, Customs Division. You +remember me, don't you? Worked on the Maitland diamond case with you two +years ago.... Wonder if you could tell me something I want to know--is +Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge booked to go back with you to-morrow?... She is? +What's the number of her stateroom? And--er--what was the number of the +room she had coming over?... I thank you." + +If the motorists whom Gregory had startled on the Drive had seen him +emerge from the phone booth they would have marveled at the look of keen +satisfaction and relief that was spread over his face. The cat that +swallowed the canary was tired of life, compared with Joe at that +moment. + +Next morning the Customs operatives were rather surprised to see Gregory +stroll down to the _Atlantic_ dock about ten o'clock. + +"Thought you were somewhere uptown on the chief's pet case," said one of +them. + +"So I was," answered Joe. "But that's practically cleaned up." + +With that he went aboard, and no one saw him until just before the +"All-ashore" call. Then he took up his place beside the gangplank, with +three other men placed near by in case of accident. + +"Follow my lead," he directed. "I'll speak to the girl. Two of you stick +here to make certain that she doesn't get away, and you, Bill, beat it +on board then and tell the captain that the boat's not to clear until we +give the word. We won't delay him more than ten minutes at the outside." + +When Alyce came down the gangplank a few minutes later, in the midst of +people who had been saying good-by to friends and relatives, she spotted +Joe waiting for her, and started to move hurriedly away. Gregory caught +up with her before she had gone a dozen feet. + +"Good morning, Alyce," he said. "Thought I'd come down to meet you. +What've you got in the bag there?" indicating her maid's handbag. + +"Not--not a thing," said the girl, flushing. Just then the matron joined +the party, as previously arranged, and Joe's tone took on its official +hardness. + +"Hurry up and search her! We don't want to keep the boat any longer than +we have to." + +Less than a minute later the matron thrust her head out of the door long +enough to report: "We found 'em--the pearls. She had 'em in the front of +her dress." + +Gregory was up the gangplank in a single bound. A moment later he was +knocking at the door of Mrs. Dodge's stateroom. The instant the knob +turned he was inside, informing Phyllis that she was under arrest on a +charge of bringing jewels into the United States without the formality +of paying duty. Of course, the lady protested--but the _Atlantic_ +sailed, less than ten minutes behind schedule time, without her. + +Promptly at twelve the phone on the desk of the chief of the Customs +Division in Washington buzzed noisily. + +"Gregory speaking," came through the receiver. "My time's up--and I've +got the party you want. Claims to be from Cleveland and sails under the +name of Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge--first name Phyllis. She's confessed and +promises to turn state's evidence if we'll go light with her." + + * * * * * + +"That," added Quinn, "was the finish of Mrs. Dodge, so far as the +government was concerned. In order to land the whole crew--the people +who were handling the stuff on this side as well as the ones who were +mixed up in the scheme abroad--they let her go scot-free, with the +proviso that she's to be rushed to Atlanta if she ever pokes her nose +into the United States again. The last I heard of her she was in Monaco, +tangled up in a blackmail case there. + +"Gregory told me all about it sometime later. Said that the first hunch +had come to him when he studied the passengers' lists in the wilds of +the Adirondacks. Went there to be alone and concentrate. He found that +of all the people listed, only three--two men and a Mrs. Dodge--had made +the trip frequently in the past six months. The frequency of Mrs. +Dodge's travel evidently made it impracticable for her to use different +aliases. Some one would be sure to spot her. + +"But it wasn't until that night on Riverside Drive that the significance +of the data struck him. Each time she took the same boat on which she +had come over! Did she have the same stateroom? The phone call to +MacPherson established the fact that she did--this time at least. The +rest was almost as obvious as the original plan. The jewels were brought +aboard, passed on to Phyllis, and she tucked them away somewhere in her +stateroom. Her bags and her person could, of course, be searched with +perfect safety. Then, what was more natural than that her maid should +accompany her on board when she was leaving? Nobody ever pays any +attention to people who board the boat at _this_ end, so Alyce was able +to walk off with the stuff under the very eyes of the customs +authorities--and they found later that she had the nerve to place it in +the hands of the government for the next twenty-four hours. She sent it +by registered mail to Pittsburgh and it was passed along through an +underground "fence" channel until a prospective purchaser appeared. + +"Perfectly obvious and perfectly simple--that's why the plan succeeded +until Gregory began to make love to Alyce and got the idea that Mrs. +Dodge was going right back to Europe hammered into his head. It had +occurred to him before, but he hadn't placed much value on it.... + +"O-o-o-o!" yawned Quinn. "I'm getting dry. Trot out some grape juice and +put on that Kreisler record--'Drigo's Serenade.' I love to hear it. +Makes me think of the time when they landed that scoundrel Weimar." + + + + +VI + +A MATTER OF RECORD + + +"What was that you mentioned last week--something about the record of +Kreisler's 'Drigo's Serenade' reminding you of the capture of some one?" +I asked Bill Quinn one summer evening as he painfully hoisted his game +leg upon the porch railing. + +"Sure it does," replied Quinn. "Never fails. Put it on again so I can +get the necessary atmosphere, as you writers call it, and possibly I'll +spill the yarn--provided you guarantee to keep the ginger ale flowing +freely. That and olive oil are about the only throat lubricants left +us." + +So I slipped on the record, rustled a couple of bottles from the ice +box, and settled back comfortably, for when Quinn once started on one of +his reminiscences of government detective work he didn't like to be +interrupted. + +"That's the piece, all right," Bill remarked, as the strains of the +violin drifted off into the night. "Funny how a few notes of music like +that could nail a criminal while at the same time it was saving the +lives of nobody knows how many other people--" + + * * * * * + +Remember Paul Weimar [continued Quinn, picking up the thread of his +story]. He was the most dangerous of the entire gang that helped von +Bernstorff, von Papen, and the rest of that crew plot against the United +States at a time when we were supposed to be entirely neutral. + +An Austrian by birth, Weimar was as thoroughly a Hun at heart as anyone +who ever served the Hohenzollerns and, in spite of his size, he was as +slippery as they make 'em. Back in the past somewhere he had been a +detective in the service of the Atlas Line, but for some years before +the war was superintendent of the police attached to the +Hamburg-American boats. That, of course, gave him the inside track in +every bit of deviltry he wanted to be mixed up in, for he had made it +his business to cultivate the acquaintance of wharf rats, dive keepers, +and all the rest of the scum of the Seven Seas that haunts the docks. + +Standing well over six feet, Weimar had a pair of fists that came in +mighty handy in a scuffle, and a tongue that could curl itself around +all the blasphemies of a dozen languages. There wasn't a water front +where they didn't hate him--neither was there a water front where they +didn't fear him. + +Of course, when the war broke in August, 1914, the Hamburg-American line +didn't have any further official use for Weimar. Their ships were tied +up in neutral or home ports and Herr Paul was out of a job--for at least +ten minutes. But he was entirely too valuable a man for the German +organization to overlook for longer than that, and von Papen, in +Washington, immediately added him to his organization--with blanket +instructions to go the limit on any dirty work he cared to undertake. +Later, he worked for von Bernstorff; Doctor Dumba, the Austrian +ambassador; and Doctor von Nuber, the Austrian consul in New York--but +von Papen had first claim upon his services and did not hesitate to +press them, as proven by certain entries in the checkbook of the +military attaché during the spring and summer of 1915. + +Of course, it didn't take the Secret Service and the men from the +Department of Justice very long to get on to the fact that Weimar was +altogether too close to the German embassy for the safety and comfort of +the United States government. But what were they to do about it? We +weren't at war then and you couldn't arrest a man merely because he +happened to know von Papen and the rest of his precious companions. You +had to have something on him--something that would stand up in +court--and Paul Weimar was too almighty clever to let that happen. + +When you remember that it took precisely one year to land this +Austrian--one year of constant watching and unceasing espionage--you +will see how well he conducted himself. + +And the government's sleuths weren't the only ones who were after him, +either. + +Captain Kenney, of the New York Police Force, lent mighty efficient aid +and actually invented a new system of trailing in order to find out just +what he was up to. + +In the old days, you told a man to go out and follow a suspect and that +was all there was to it. The "shadow" would trail along half a block or +so in the rear, keeping his man always in view, and bring home a full +account of what he had done all day. But you couldn't do that with +Weimar--he was too foxy. From what some of the boys have told me, I +think he took a positive delight in throwing them off the scent, whether +he had anything up his sleeve or not. + +One day, for example, you could have seen his big bulk swinging +nonchalantly up Broadway, as if he didn't have a care in the world. A +hundred feet or more behind him was Bob Dugan, one of Kenney's men. When +Weimar disappeared into the Subway station at Times Square, Dugan was +right behind him, and when the Austrian boarded the local for Grand +Central Station, Dugan was on the same train--on the same car, in fact. +But when they reached the station, things began to happen. Weimar left +the local and commenced to stroll up and down the platform, waiting +until a local train and an express arrived at the same time. That was +his opportunity. He made a step or two forward, as if to board the +express, and Dugan--not wishing to make himself too conspicuous--slipped +on board just as the doors were closing, only to see Weimar push back +and jam his way on the local! + +Variations of that stunt occurred time after time. Even the detailing of +two men to follow him failed in its purpose, for the Austrian would +enter a big office building, leap into an express elevator just as it +was about to ascend, slip the operator a dollar to stop at one of the +lower floors, and be lost for the day or until some one picked him up by +accident. + +So Cap Kenney called in four of his best men and told them that it was +essential that Weimar be watched. + +"Two of you," he directed, "stick with him all the time. Suppose you +locate him the first thing in the morning at his house on Twenty-fourth +Street, for example. You, Cottrell, station yourself two blocks up the +street. Gary, you go the same distance down. Then, no matter which way +he starts he'll have one of you in front of him and one behind. The man +in front will have to use his wits to guess which way he intends to go +and to beat him to it. If he boards a car, the man in front can pick him +up with the certainty that the other will cover the trail in the rear. +In that way you ought to be able to find out where he is going and, +possibly, what he is doing there." + +The scheme, thanks to the quick thinking of the men assigned to the job, +worked splendidly for months--at least it worked in so far as keeping a +watch on Weimar was concerned. But that was all. In the summer of 1915 +the government knew precisely where Weimar had been for the past six +months, with whom he had talked, and so on--but the kernel of the nut +was missing. There wasn't the least clue to what he had talked about and +what deviltry he had planned! + +Without that information, all the dope the government had was about as +useful as a movie to a blind man. + +Washington was so certain that Weimar had the key to a number of very +important developments--among them the first attempt to blow up the +Welland Canal--that the chief of the Secret Service made a special trip +to New York to talk to Kenney. + +"Isn't it possible," he suggested, "to plant your men close enough to +Weimar to find out, for example, what he talks about over the phone?" + +Kenney smiled, grimly. + +"Chief," he said, "that's been done. We've tapped every phone that +Weimar's likely to use in the neighborhood of his house and every time +he talks from a public station one of our men cuts in from near-by--by +an arrangement with Central--and gets every word. But that bird is too +wary to be caught with chaff of that kind. He's evidently worked out a +verbal code of some kind that changes every day. He tells the man at the +other end, for example, to be at the drug store on the corner of +Seventy-third and Broadway at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon and wait +for a phone call in the name of Williams. Our man is always at the place +at the appointed hour, but no call ever arrives. 'Seventy-third and +Broadway' very evidently means some other address, but it's useless to +try and guess which one. You'd have to have a man at every pay station +in town to follow that lead." + +"How about overhearing his directions to the men he meets in the open?" + +"Not a chance in the world. His rendezvous are always public places--the +Pennsylvania or Grand Central Station, a movie theater, a hotel lobby, +or the like. There he can put his back against the wall and make sure +that no one is listening in. He's on to all the tricks of the trade and +it will take a mighty clever man--or a bunch of them--to nail him." + +"H-m-m!" mused the chief. "Well, at that, I believe I've got the man." + +"Anyone I know?" + +"Yes, I think you do--Morton Maxwell. Remember him? Worked on the +Castleman diamond case here a couple of years ago for the customs people +and was also responsible for uncovering the men behind the sugar-tax +fraud. He isn't in the Service, but he's working for the Department of +Justice, and I'm certain they'll turn him loose on this if I ask them +to. Maxwell can get to the bottom of Weimar's business, if anyone can. +Let me talk to Washington--" + +And within an hour after the chief had hung up the receiver Morton +Maxwell, better known as "Mort," was headed toward New York with +instructions to report at Secret Service headquarters in that city. + +Once there, the chief and Kenney went over the whole affair with him. +Cottrell and Gary and the other men who had been engaged in shadowing +the elusive Weimar were called in to tell their part of the story, and +every card was laid upon the table. + +When the conference concluded, sometime after midnight, the chief turned +to Maxwell and inquired: + +"Well, what's your idea about it?" + +For a full minute Mort smoked on in silence and gazed off into space. +Men who had just met him were apt to think this a pose, a play to the +grand stand--but those who knew him best realized that Maxwell's alert +mind was working fastest in such moments and that he much preferred not +to make any decision until he had turned things over in his head. + +"There's just one point which doesn't appear to have been covered," he +replied. Then, as Kenney started to cut in, "No, Chief, I said +_appeared_ not to have been covered. Very possibly you have all the +information on it and forgot to hand it out. Who does this Weimar live +with?" + +"He lives by himself in a house on Twenty-fourth Street, near Seventh +Avenue--boards there, but has the entire second floor. So far as we've +been able to find out he has never been married. No trace of any wife on +this side, anyhow. Never travels with women--probably afraid they'd talk +too much." + +"Has he any relatives?" + +"None that I know of--" + +"Wait a minute," Cottrell interrupted. "I dug back into Weimar's record +before the war ended his official connection with the steamship company, +and one of the points I picked up was that he had a cousin--a man named +George Buch--formerly employed on one of the boats. + +"Where is Buch now?" asked Maxwell. + +"We haven't been able to locate him," admitted the police detective. +"Not that we've tried very hard, because the trail didn't lead in his +direction. I don't even know that he is in this country, but it's likely +that he is because he was on one of the boats that was interned here +when the war broke." + +Again it was a full minute before Maxwell spoke. + +"Buch," he said, finally, "appears to be the only link between Weimar +and the outer world. It's barely possible that he knows something, and, +as we can't afford to overlook any clue, suppose we start work along +that line. I'll dig into it myself the first thing in the morning, and I +certainly would appreciate any assistance that your men could give me, +Chief. Tell them to make discreet inquiries about Buch, his appearance, +habits, etc., and to try and find out whether he is on this side. Now +I'm going to turn in, for something seems to tell me that the busy +season has arrived." + +At that Maxwell wasn't far wrong. The weeks that followed were well +filled with work, but it was entirely unproductive of results. Weimar +was shadowed day and night, his telephones tapped and his mail examined. +But, save for the fact that his connection with the German embassy +became increasingly apparent, no further evidence was forthcoming. + +The search for Buch was evidently futile, for that personage appeared to +have disappeared from the face of the earth. All that Maxwell and the +other men who worked on the matter could discover was that Buch--a young +Austrian whose description they secured--had formerly been an intimate +of Weimar. The latter had obtained his appointment to a minor office in +the Hamburg-American line and Buch was commonly supposed to be a stool +pigeon for the master plotter. + +But right there the trail stopped. + +No one appeared to know whether the Austrian was in New York, or the +United States, for that matter, though one informant did admit that it +was quite probable. + +"Buch and the big fellow had a row the last time over," was the +information Maxwell secured at the cost of a few drinks. "Something +about some money that Weimar is supposed to have owed him--fifteen +dollars or some such amount. I didn't hear about it until afterward, but +it appears to have been a pretty lively scrap while it lasted. Of +course, Buch didn't have a chance against the big fellow--he could +handle a bull. But the young Austrian threatened to tip his hand--said +he knew a lot of stuff that would be worth a good deal more money than +was coming to him, and all that sort of thing. But the ship docked the +next day and I haven't seen or heard of him since." + +The idea of foul play at once leaped into Maxwell's mind, but +investigation of police records failed to disclose the discovery of +anybody answering to the description of George Buch and, as Captain +Kenney pointed out, it is a decidedly difficult matter to dispose of a +corpse in such a way as not to arouse at least the suspicions of the +police. + +As a last resort, about the middle of September, Maxwell had a reward +posted on the bulletin board of every police station in New York and the +surrounding country for the "apprehension of George Buch, Austrian, age +about twenty-four. Height, five feet eight inches. Hair, blond. +Complexion, fair. Eyes, blue. Sandy mustache." + +As Captain Kenney pointed out, though, the description would apply to +several thousand men of German parentage in the city, and to a good many +more who didn't have a drop of Teutonic blood in their veins. + +"True enough," Maxwell was forced to admit, "but we can't afford to +overlook a bet--even if it is a thousand-to-one shot." + +As luck would have it, the thousand-to-one shot won! + +On September 25, 1917, Detective Gary returned to headquarters, +distinctly crestfallen. Weimar had given him the slip. + +In company with another man, whom the detective did not know, the +Austrian had been walking up Sixth Avenue that afternoon when a machine +swung in from Thirty-sixth Street and the Austrian had leaped aboard +without waiting for it to come to a full stop. + +"Of course, there wasn't a taxi in sight," said Gary, ruefully, "and +before I could convince the nearest chauffeur that my badge wasn't phony +they'd gone!" + +"That's the first time in months," Gary replied. "He knows that he's +followed, all right, and he's cagy enough to keep in the open and +pretend to be aboveboard." + +"Right," commented the Department of Justice operative, "and this move +would appear to indicate that something was doing. Better phone all your +stations to watch out for him, Cap." + +But nothing more was seen or heard of Herr Weimar for five days. + +Meanwhile events moved rapidly for Maxwell. + +On September 26th, the day after the Austrian disappeared, one of the +policemen whose beat lay along Fourteenth Street, near Third Avenue, +asked to see the government detective. + +"My name's Riley," announced the copper, with a brogue as broad as the +toes of his shoes. "Does this Austrian, this here Buch feller ye're +lookin' for, like music? Is he nuts about it?" + +"Music?" echoed Maxwell. "I'm sure I don't know.... But wait a minute! +Yes, that's what that chap who used to know him on the boat told me. +Saying he was forever playing a fiddle when he was off duty and that +Weimar threw it overboard one day in a fit of rage. Why? What's the +connection?" + +"Nothin' in particular, save that a little girl I'm rather sweet on +wurruks in a music store on Fourteenth Street an' she an' I was talkin' +things over last night an' I happened to mintion th' reward offered for +this Buch feller. 'Why!' says she, 'that sounds just like the Dutchy +that used to come into th' shop a whole lot a year or so ago. He was +crazy about music an' kep' himself pretty nigh broke a-buyin' those +expensive new records. Got me to save him every violin one that came +out.'" + +"Um, yes," muttered Maxwell, "but has the young lady seen anything of +this chap lately?" + +"That she has not," Riley replied, "an' right there's th' big idear. +Once a week, regular, another Dutchman comes in an' buys a record, an' +he told Katy--that's me gurrul's name--last winter that th' selections +were for a man that used to be a stiddy customer of hers but who was now +laid up in bed." + +"In bed for over a year!" exclaimed Maxwell, his face lighting up. "Held +prisoner somewhere in the neighborhood of that shop on Fourteenth +Street, because the big Austrian hasn't the nerve to make away with him +and yet fears that he knows too much! Look here, Riley--suppose you and +Miss Katy take a few nights off--I'll substitute for her and make it all +right with the man who owns the store. Then I can get a line on this +buyer of records for sick men." + +"Wouldn't it be better, sir, if we hung around outside th' store an' let +Katy give us the high sign when he come in? Then we could both trail him +back to where he lives." + +"You're right, Riley, it would! Where'll I meet you to-night?" + +"At the corner of Fourteenth Street and Thoid Av'nue, at eight o'clock. +Katy says th' man never gets there before nine." + +"I'll be there," said Maxwell--and he was. + +But nothing out of the ordinary rewarded their vigil the first night, +nor the second. On the third night, however, just after the clock in the +Metropolitan Tower had boomed nine times, a rather nondescript +individual sauntered into the music store, and Riley's quick eyes saw +the girl behind the counter put her left hand to her chest. Then she +coughed. + +"That's th' signal, sir," warned the policeman in a whisper. "An' that's +the guy we're after." + +Had the man turned around as he made his way toward a dark and +forbidding house on Thirteenth Street, not far from Fourth Avenue, he +might have caught sight of two shadows skulking along not fifty feet +behind him. But, at that, he would have to have been pretty quick--for +Maxwell was taking no chances on losing his prey and he had cautioned +the policeman not to make a sound. + +When their quarry ascended the steps of No. 247 Riley started to move +after him, but the Department of Justice operative halted him. + +"There's no hurry," stated Maxwell. "He doesn't suspect we're here, and, +besides, it doesn't make any difference if he does lock the door--I've +got a skeleton key handy that's guaranteed to open anything." + +Riley grunted, but stayed where he was until Maxwell gave the signal to +advance. + +Once inside the door, which responded to a single turn to the key, the +policeman and the government agent halted in the pitch-black darkness +and listened. Then from an upper floor came the sound for which Maxwell +had been waiting--the first golden notes of a violin played by a master +hand. The distance and the closed doorway which intervened killed all +the harsh mechanical tone of the phonograph and only the wonderful +melody of "Drigo's Serenade" came down to them. + +On tiptoe, though they knew their movements would be masked by the +sounds of the music, Riley and Maxwell crept up to the third floor and +halted outside the door from which the sounds came. + +"Wait until the record is over," directed Maxwell, "and then break down +that door. Have your gun handy and don't hesitate to shoot anyone who +tries to injure Buch. I'm certain he's held prisoner here and it may be +that the men who are guarding him have instructions not to let him +escape at any cost. Ready? Let's go!" + +The final note of the Kreisler record had not died away before Riley's +shoulder hit the flimsy door and the two detectives were in the room. + +Maxwell barely had time to catch a glimpse of a pale, wan figure on the +bed and to sense the fact that there were two other men in the room, +when there was a shout from Riley and a spurt of flame from his +revolver. With a cry, the man nearest the bed dropped his arm and a +pistol clattered to the floor--the barrel still singing from the impact +of the policeman's bullet. The second man, realizing that time was +precious, leaped straight toward Maxwell, his fingers reaching for the +agent's throat. With a half laugh Mort clubbed his automatic and brought +the butt down with sickening force on his assailant's head. Then he +swung around and covered the man whom Riley had disarmed. + +"Don't worry about him, sir," said the policeman. "His arm'll be numb +half an hour from now. What do you want to do with th' lad in th' bed?" + +"Get him out of here as quickly as we can. We won't bother with these +swine. They have the law on their side, anyway, because we broke in here +without a warrant. I only want Buch." + +When he had propped the young Austrian up in a comfortable chair in the +Federal Building and had given him a glass of brandy to strengthen his +nerves--the Lord only knows that they'll have to do in the +future--Maxwell got the whole story and more than he had dared hoped +for. Buch, following his quarrel with Weimar, had been held prisoner in +the house on Thirteenth Street for over a year because, as Maxwell had +figured, the Austrian didn't have the nerve to kill him and didn't dare +let him loose. Barely enough food was allowed to keep him alive, and the +only weakness that his cousin had shown was in permitting the purchase +of one phonograph record a week in order to cheer him up a little. + +"Naturally," said Buch, "I chose the Kreisler records, because he's an +Austrian and a marvelous violinist." + +"Did Weimar ever come to see you?" inquired Maxwell. + +"He came in every now and then to taunt me and to say that he was going +to have me thrown in the river some day soon. That didn't frighten me, +but there were other things that did. He came in last week, for example, +and boasted that he was going to blow up a big canal and I was afraid he +might be caught or killed. That would have meant no more money for the +men who were guarding me and I was too weak to walk even to the window +to call for help...." + +"A big canal!" Maxwell repeated. "He couldn't mean the Panama! No, +that's impossible. I have it! The Welland Canal!" And in an instant he +was calling the Niagara police on the long-distance phone, giving a +detailed description of Weimar and his companions. + + * * * * * + +"As it turned out," concluded Quinn, reaching for his empty glass, +"Weimar had already been looking over the ground. He was arrested, +however, before the dynamite could be planted, and, thanks to Buch's +evidence, indicted for violation of Section Thirteen of the Penal Code. + +"Thus did a phonograph record and thirty pieces of silver--the thirty +half-dollars that Weimar owed Buch--lead directly to the arrest of one +of the most dangerous spies in the German service. Let's have Mr. +Drigo's Serenade once more and pledge Mort Maxwell's health in ginger +ale--unless you have a still concealed around the house. And if you have +I will be in duty bound to tell Jimmy Reynolds about it--he's the lad +that holds the record for persistency and cleverness in discovering +moonshiners." + + + + +VII + +THE SECRET STILL + + +"July 1, 1919," said Bill Quinn, as he appropriately reached for a +bottle containing a very soft drink, "by no means marked the beginning +of the government's troubles in connection with the illicit manufacture +of liquor. + +"Of course, there's been a whole lot in the papers since the Thirst of +July about people having private stills in their cellars, making drinks +with a kick out of grape juice and a piece of yeast, and all that sort +of thing. One concern in Pittsburgh, I understand, has also noted a +tremendous and absolutely abnormal increase in the demand for its +hot-water heating plants--the copper coils of which make an ideal +substitute for a still--but I doubt very much if there's going to be a +real movement in the direction of the private manufacture of alcoholic +beverages. The Internal Revenue Department is too infernally watchful +and its agents too efficient for much of that to get by. + +"When you get right down to it, there's no section in the country where +the art of making 'licker' flourishes to such an extent as it does in +eastern Tennessee and western North Carolina. Moonshine there is not +only a recognized article of trade, but its manufacture is looked upon +as an inalienable right. It's tough sledding for any revenue officer who +isn't mighty quick on the trigger, and even then--as Jimmy Reynolds +discovered a few years back--they're likely to get him unless he mixes +brains with his shooting ability." + + * * * * * + +Reynolds [continued Quinn, easing his injured leg into a more +comfortable position] was as valuable a man as any whose name ever +appeared in the Government Blue Book. He's left the bureau now and +settled down to a life of comparative ease as assistant district +attorney of some middle Western city. I've forgotten which one, but +there was a good reason for his not caring to remain in the East. The +climate west of the Mississippi is far more healthy for Jimmy these +days. + +At the time of the Stiles case Jim was about twenty-nine, straight as an +arrow, and with a bulldog tenacity that just wouldn't permit of his +letting go of a problem until the solution was filed in the official +pigeonholes which answer to the names of archives. It was this trait +which led Chambers, then Commissioner of Internal Revenue, to send for +him, after receipt of a message that two of his best men--Douglas and +Wood, I think their names were--had been brought back to Maymead, +Tennessee, with bullet holes neatly drilled through their hearts. + +"Jim," said the Commissioner, "this case has gone just far enough. It's +one thing for the mountaineers of Tennessee to make moonshine whisky and +defy the laws of the United States. But when they deliberately murder +two of my best men and pin a rudely scribbled note to 'Bewair of this +country' on the front of their shirts, that's going entirely too far. +I'm going to clean out that nest of illicit stills if it takes the rest +of my natural life and every man in the bureau! + +"More than that, I'll demand help from the War Department, if necessary! +By Gad! I'll teach 'em!" and the inkwell on the Commissioner's desk +leaped into the air as Chambers's fist registered determination. + +Reynolds reached for a fresh cigar from the supply that always reposed +in the upper drawer of the Commissioner's desk and waited until it was +well lighted before he replied. + +"All well and good, Chief," he commented, "but how would the army help +you any? You could turn fifty thousand men in uniform loose in those +mountains, and the odds are they wouldn't locate the bunch you're after. +Fire isn't the weapon to fight those mountaineers with. They're too +wise. What you need is brains." + +"Possibly you can supply that deficiency," retorted the Commissioner, a +little nettled. + +"Oh, I didn't mean that you, personally, needed the brains," laughed +Reynolds. "The pronoun was used figuratively and collectively. At that, +I would like to have a whirl at the case if you've nothing better for me +to do--" + +"There isn't anything better for anyone to do at the present time," +Chambers interrupted. "That's why I sent for you. We know that whisky is +being privately distilled in large quantities somewhere in the mountains +not far from Maymead. Right there our information ends. Our men have +tried all sorts of dodges to land the crowd behind the stills, but the +only thing they've been able to learn is that a man named Stiles is one +of the ruling spirits. His cabin is well up in the mountains and it was +while they were prospecting round that part of the country that Douglas +and Wood were shot. Now what's your idea of handling the case?" + +"The first thing that I want, Chief, is to be allowed to work on this +absolutely alone, and that not a soul, in bureau or out of it is to know +what I'm doing." + +"Easy enough to arrange that," assented the Commissioner, "but--" + +"There isn't any 'but,'" Reynolds cut in. "You've tried putting a number +of men to work on this and they've failed. Now try letting one handle +it. For the past two years I've had a plan in the back of my head that +I've been waiting the right opportunity to use. So far as I can see it's +foolproof and I'm willing to take all the responsibility in connection +with it." + +"Care to outline it?" inquired Chambers. + +"Not right at the moment," was Reynolds's reply, "because it would seem +too wild and scatterbrained. I don't mind telling you, though, that for +the next six weeks my address will be in care of the warden of the +penitentiary of Morgantown, West Virginia, if you wish to reach me." + +"Morgantown?" echoed the Commissioner. "What in Heaven's name are you +going to do there?" + +"Lay the stage setting for the first act," smiled Jimmy. "Likewise +collect what authors refer to as local color--material that's essential +to what I trust will be the happy ending of this drama--happy, at least, +from the government's point of view. But, while you know that I'm at +Morgantown, I don't want anyone else to know it and I'd much prefer that +you didn't communicate with me there unless it's absolutely necessary." + +"All right, I won't. You're handling the case from now on." + +"Alone?" + +"Entirely--if you wish it." + +"Yes, Chief, I do wish it. I can promise you one of two things within +the next three months: either you'll have all the evidence you want +about the secret still and the men behind it or--well, you know where to +ship my remains!" + +With that and a quick handshake he was gone. + +During the weeks that followed, people repeatedly asked the +Commissioner: + +"What's become of Jimmy Reynolds? Haven't seen him round here for a +month of Sundays." + +But the Commissioner would assume an air of blank ignorance, mutter +something about, "He's out of town somewhere," and rapidly change the +subject. + +About six weeks or so later a buzzard which was flapping its lazy way +across the mountains which divide Tennessee from North Carolina saw, far +below, a strange sight. A man, haggard and forlorn, his face covered +with a half-inch of stubble, his cheeks sunken, his clothing torn by +brambles and bleached by the sun and rain until it was almost impossible +to tell its original texture, stumbled along with his eyes fixed always +on the crest of a hill some distance off. It was as if he were making a +last desperate effort to reach his goal before the sun went down. + +Had the buzzard been so minded, his keen eyes might have noted the fact +that the man's clothes were marked by horizontal stripes, while his head +was covered with hair the same length all over, as if he had been shaved +recently and the unkempt thatch had sprouted during the last ten days. + +Painfully but persistently the man in convict's clothes pressed forward. +When the sun was a little more than halfway across the heavens he +glimpsed a cabin tucked away on the side of a mountain spur not far +away. At the sight he pressed forward with renewed vigor, but distances +are deceptive in that part of the country and it was not until nearly +dark that he managed to reach his destination. + +In fact, the Stiles family was just sitting down to what passes for +supper in that part of the world--fat bacon and corn bread, +mostly--when there was the sound of a man's footstep some fifty feet +away. + +Instantly the houn' dog rose from his accustomed place under the table +and crouched, ready to repel invaders. Old Man Stiles--his wife called +him Joe, but to the entire countryside he was just "Old Man +Stiles"--reached for his rifle with a muttered imprecation about +"Rev'nue officers who never let a body be." + +But the mountaineer had hardly risen from his seat when there was a +sound as of a heavy body falling against the door--and then silence. + +Stiles looked inquiringly at his wife and then at Ruth, their adopted +daughter. None of them spoke for an appreciable time, but the hound +continued to whine and finally backed off into a corner. + +"Guess I'll have to see what et is," drawled the master of the cabin, +holding his rifle ready for action. + +Slowly he moved toward the door and cautiously, very cautiously, he +lifted the bolt that secured it. Even if it were a revenue officer, he +argued to himself, his conscience was clear and his premises could stand +the formality of a search because, save for a certain spot known to +himself alone, there was nothing that could be considered incriminating. + +As the door swung back the body of a man fell into the room--a man whose +clothing was tattered and whose features were concealed under a week's +growth of stubbly beard. Right into the cabin he fell, for the door had +supported his body, and, once that support was removed, he lay as one +dead. + +In fact, it wasn't until at least five minutes had elapsed that Stiles +came to the conclusion that the intruder was really alive, after all. +During that time he had worked over him in the rough mountain fashion, +punching and pulling and manhandling him in an effort to secure some +sign of life. Finally the newcomer's eyes opened and he made an effort +to sit up. + +"Wait a minute, stranger," directed Stiles, motioning his wife toward a +closet in the corner of the room. Mrs. Stiles--or 'Ma,' as she was known +in that part of the country--understood the movement. Without a word she +opened the cupboard and took down a flask filled with a clear +golden-yellow liquid. Some of this she poured into a cracked cup on the +table and handed it to her husband. + +"Here," directed the mountaineer, "throw yo' haid back an' drink this. +Et's good fur what ails yer." + +The moment after he had followed instructions the stranger gulped, +gurgled, and gasped as the moonshine whisky burnt its way down his +throat. The man-sized drink, taken on a totally empty stomach, almost +nauseated him. Then it put new life in his veins and he tried to +struggle to his feet. + +Ruth Stiles was beside him in an instant and, with her father's help, +assisted him to a chair at the table. + +"Stranger," said Stiles, stepping aside and eying the intruder +critically, "I don't know who or what you are, but I do know that yo' +look plumb tuckered out. Nobody's goin' hungry in my house, so fall to +an' we'll discuss other matters later." + +Whereupon he laid his rifle in its accustomed place, motioned to his +wife and daughter to resume their places at the table, and dragged up +another chair for himself. + +Beyond a word or two of encouragement to eat all he wanted of the very +plain fare, none of the trio addressed the newcomer during the remainder +of the meal. All three of them had noted the almost-obliterated stripes +that encircled his clothing and their significance was unmistakable. +But Stiles himself was far from being convinced. He had heard too much +of the tricks of government agents to be misled by what might prove, +after all, only a clever disguise. + +Therefore, when the womenfolk had cleared away the supper things and the +two men had the room to themselves, the mountaineer offered his guest a +pipeful of tobacco and saw to it that he took a seat before the fire +where the light would play directly upon his features. Then he opened +fire. + +"Stranger," he inquired, "what might yo' name be?" + +"Patterson," said the other. "Jim Patterson." + +"Whar you come from?" + +"Charlestown first an' Morgantown second. Up for twelve years for +manslaughter--railroaded at that," was Patterson's laconic reply. + +"How'd you get away?" + +At that the convict laughed, but there was more of a snarl than humor in +his tone as he answered: "Climbed th' wall when th' guards weren't +lookin'. They took a coupla pot shots at me, but none of them came +within a mile. Then I beat it south, travelin' by night an' hidin' by +day. Stole what I could to eat, but this country ain't overly well +filled with farms. Hadn't had a bite for two days, 'cept some berries, +when I saw your cabin an' came up here." + +Stiles puffed away in silence for a moment. Then he rose, as if to fetch +something from the other side of the room. Once behind Patterson, +however, he reached forward and, seizing the stubble that covered his +face, yanked it as hard as he could. + +"What th'----?" yelled the convict, springing to his feet and +involuntarily raising his clenched hand. + +"Ca'm yo'self, stranger, ca'm yo'self," directed the mountaineer, with +a half smile. "Jes' wanted to see for myself ef that beard was real, +that's all. Thought you might be a rev'nue agent in disguise." + +"A rev'nue agent?" queried Patterson, and then as if the thought had +just struck him that he was in the heart of the moonshining district, he +added: "That's rich! Me, just out of th' pen an' you think I'm a bull. +That's great. Here"--reaching into the recesses of his frayed +shirt--"here's something that may convince you." + +And he handed over a tattered newspaper, more than a week old, and +pointed to an article on the first page. + +"There, read that!" + +"Ruth does all th' reading for this fam'ly," was Stiles's muttered +rejoinder. "Ruth! Oh, Ruth! Come here a minute an' read somethin' to yo' +pappy!" + +Patterson had not failed to note, during supper, that Ruth Stiles came +close to being a perfect specimen of a mountain flower, rough and +undeveloped, but with more than a trace of real beauty, both in her face +and figure. Standing in front of the fire, with its flickering light +casting a sort of halo around her, she was almost beautiful--despite her +homespun dress and shapeless shoes. + +Without a word the convict handed her the paper and indicated the +article he had pointed out a moment before. + +"Reward offered for convict's arrest," she read. "James Patterson, doing +time for murder, breaks out of Morgantown. Five hundred dollars for +capture. Prisoner scaled wall and escaped in face of guards' fire." Then +followed an account of the escape, the first of its kind in several +years. + +"Even if you can't read," said Patterson, "there's my picture under the +headline--the picture they took for the rogues' gallery," and he pointed +to a fairly distinct photograph which adorned the page. + +Stiles took the paper closer to the fire to secure a better look, +glanced keenly at the convict, and extended his hand. + +"Guess that's right, stranger," he admitted. "You're no rev'nue agent." + +Later in the evening, as she lay awake, thinking about the man who had +shattered the monotony of their mountain life, Ruth Stiles wondered if +Patterson had not given vent to what sounded suspiciously like a sigh of +relief at that moment. But she was too sleepy to give much thought to +it, and, besides, what if he had?... + +In the other half of the cabin, divided from the women's room only by a +curtain of discolored calico, slept Patterson and Stiles--the former +utterly exhausted by his travels, the latter resting with keen hair +trigger consciousness of danger always only a short distance away. +Nothing happened, however, to disturb the peace of the Stiles domicile. +Even the hound slept quietly until the rosy tint of the eastern sky +announced another day. + +After breakfast, at which the fat-back and corn bread were augmented by +a brownish liquid which passed for coffee, Stiles informed his guest +that he "reckoned he'd better stick close to th' house fer a few days," +as there was no telling whether somebody might not be on his trail. + +Patterson agreed that this was the proper course and put in his time +helping with the various chores, incidentally becoming a little better +acquainted with Ruth Stiles. That night he lay awake for several hours, +but nothing broke the stillness save a few indications of animal life +outside the cabin and the labored breathing of the mountaineer in the +bunk below him. + +For three nights nothing occurred. But on the fourth night, Saturday, +supper was served a little earlier than usual and Patterson noted just a +suspicion of something almost electrical in the air. He gave no +indication of what he had observed, however, and retired to his bunk in +the usual manner. After an hour or more had elapsed he heard Stiles slip +quietly off his mattress and a moment later there was the guarded +scratch of a match as a lantern was lighted. + +Suspecting what would follow, Patterson closed his eyes and continued +his deep, regular breathing. But he could sense the fact that the +lantern had been swung up to a level with his bunk and he could almost +feel the mountaineer's eyes as Stiles made certain that he was asleep. +Stifling an impulse to snore or do something to convince his host that +he wasn't awake, Patterson lay perfectly still until he heard the door +close. Then he raised himself guardedly on one elbow and attempted to +look through the window beside the bunk. But a freshly applied coat of +whitewash prevented that, so he had to content himself with listening. + +Late in the night--so late that it was almost morning--he heard the +sounds of men conversing in whispers outside the cabin, but he could +catch nothing beyond his own name. Soon Stiles re-entered the room, +slipped into bed, and was asleep instantly. + +So things went for nearly three weeks. The man who had escaped from +prison made himself very useful around the cabin, and, almost against +his will, found that he was falling a victim to the beauty and charm of +the mountain girl. + +"I mustn't do it," he told himself over and over again. "I can't let +myself! It's bad enough to come here and accept the old man's +hospitality, but the girl's a different proposition." + +It was Ruth herself who solved the riddle some three weeks after +Patterson's arrival. They were wandering through the woods together, +looking for sassafras roots, when she happened to mention that Stiles +was not her own father. + +"He's only my pappy," she said, "my adopted father. My real father was +killed when I was a little girl. Shot through the head because he had +threatened to tell where a still was hidden. He never did believe in +moonshining. Said it was as bad as stealin' from the government. So +somebody shot him and Ma Stiles took me in, 'cause she said she was +sorry for me even if my pa was crazy." + +"Do you believe that moonshining is right?" asked her companion. + +"Anything my pa believed was the truth," replied the girl, her eyes +flashing. "Everybody round these parts knows that Pappy Stiles helps run +the big still the rev'nue officers been lookin' for the past three +years. Two of 'em were shot not long ago, too--but that don't make it +right. 'Specially when my pa said it was wrong. What you smilin' at?" + +Patterson resisted an inclination to tell her that the smile was one of +relief and replied that he was just watching the antics of a chipmunk a +little way off. But that night he felt a thrill of joy as he lay, +listening as always, in his bunk. + +Things had been breaking rather fast of late. The midnight gatherings +had become more frequent and, convinced that he had nothing to fear from +his guest, Stiles was not as cautious as formerly. He seldom took the +trouble to see that the escaped prisoner was asleep and he had even been +known to leave the door unlatched as he went out into the night. + +That night, for example, was one of the nights that he was +careless--and, as usually happens, he paid dearly for it. + +Waiting until Stiles was well out of the house, Patterson slipped +silently out of his bunk in his stocking feet and, inch by inch, +reopened the door. Outside, the moon was shining rather brightly, but, +save for the retreating figure of the mountaineer--outlined by the +lantern he carried--there was nothing else to be seen. + +Very carefully Patterson followed, treading softly so as to avoid even +the chance cracking of a twig. Up the mountainside went Stiles and, some +fifty feet behind him, crouched the convict, his faded garments blending +perfectly with the underbrush. After half a mile or so of following a +rude path, Stiles suddenly disappeared from view--not as if he had +turned a corner, but suddenly, as if the earth had swallowed him. + +After a moment Patterson determined to investigate. When he reached the +spot where he had last seen Stiles he looked around and almost stumbled +against the key to the entire mystery. There in the side of the mountain +was an opening, the entrance to a natural cave, and propped against it +was a large wooden door, completely covered with vines. + +"Not a chance of finding it in the daytime unless you knew where it +was," thought the convict as he slipped silently into the cave. Less +than thirty feet farther was an abrupt turn, and, glancing round this, +Patterson saw what he had been hoping for--a crowd of at least a dozen +mountaineers gathered about a collection of small but extremely +efficient stills. Ranged in rows along the sides of the cave were scores +of kegs, the contents of which were obvious from the surroundings. + +Pausing only long enough to make certain of his bearings, the convict +returned to the cabin and, long before Stiles came back, was sound +asleep. + +It was precisely four weeks from the day when the buzzard noted the man +on the side of the mountain, when a sheriff's posse from another county, +accompanied by half a dozen revenue officers, rode clattering through +Maymead and on in the direction of the Stiles cabin. Before the +mountaineers had time to gather, the posse had surrounded the hill, +rifles ready for action. + +Stiles himself met them in front of his rude home and, in response to +his challenge as to what they wanted, the sheriff replied that he had +come for a prisoner who had escaped from Morgantown a month or so +before. Stiles was on the verge of declaring that he had never heard of +the man when, to his amazement, Patterson appeared from the woods and +surrendered. + +The instant the convict had gained the shelter of the government guns, +however, a startling change took place. He held a moment's whispered +conversation with one of the revenue officials and the latter slipped +him a spare revolver from his holster. Then--"Hands up!" ordered the +sheriff, and Stiles's hands shot above his head. + +Leaving three men to guard the cabin and keep watch over Old Man Stiles, +whose language was searing the shrubbery, the remainder of the posse +pushed up the mountain, directed by the pseudoconvict. It took them some +time to locate the door to the cave, but, once inside, they found all +the evidence they wanted--evidence not only directly indicative of +moonshining, but the two badges which had belonged to Douglas and Wood +and which the mountaineers had kept as souvenirs of the shooting, thus +unwittingly providing a firm foundation for the government's case in +court. + +The next morning, when Commissioner Chambers reached his office, he +found upon his desk a wire which read: + + Stiles gang rounded up without the firing of a single shot. + Direct evidence of complicity in Woods-Douglas murders. + Secret still is a secret no longer. + +The signature to the telegram was "James Reynolds, alias Jim Patterson." + +"Jim Patterson," mused the commissioner. "Where have I heard that +name.... Of course. He's the prisoner that broke out of Morgantown a +couple of months ago! Jimmy sure did lay the local color on thick!" + + * * * * * + +"But," I inquired, as Quinn paused, "don't you consider that rather a +dirty trick on Reynolds's part--worming himself into the confidence of +the mountaineers and then betraying them? Besides, what about the girl?" + +"Dirty trick!" snorted the former Secret Service agent. "Would you think +about ethics if some one had murdered two of the men you work next to in +the office? It was the same thing in this case. Jimmy knew that if he +didn't turn up that gang they'd probably account for a dozen of his +pals--to say nothing of violating the law every day they lived! What +else was there for him to do? + +"The girl? Oh, Reynolds married her. They sometimes do that, even in +real life, you know. As I said, they're living out in the Middle West, +for Ruth declared she never wanted to see a mountain again, and both of +them admitted that it wouldn't be healthy to stick around within walking +distance of Tennessee. That mountain crowd is a bad bunch to get r'iled, +and it must be 'most time for Stiles and his friends to get out of jail. + +"It's a funny thing the way these government cases work out. Here was +one that took nearly three months to solve, and the answer was the +direct result of hard work and careful planning--while the Trenton +taxicab tangle, for example, was just the opposite!" + + + + +VIII + +THE TAXICAB TANGLE + + +We'd been sitting on the front porch--Bill Quinn and I--discussing +things in general for about half an hour when the subject of +transportation cropped up and, as a collateral idea, my mind jumped to +taxicabs, for the reason that the former Secret Service operative had +promised to give me the details of a case which he referred to as "The +Trenton Taxicab Tangle." + +"Yes," he replied, reminiscently, when I reminded him of the +alliterative title and inquired to what it might refer, "that was one of +the branch cases which grew out of the von Ewald chase--you remember +Mary McNilless and the clue of Shelf Forty-five? Well, Dick Walters, the +man who landed von Ewald, wasn't the only government detective working +on that case in New York--not by some forty-five or fifty--and Mary +wasn't the only pretty woman mixed up in it, either. There was that girl +at the Rennoc switchboard.... + +"That's another story, though. What you want is the taxicab clue." + + * * * * * + +If you remember the incidents which led up to the von Ewald affair +[continued Quinn, as he settled comfortably back in his chair] you will +recall that the German was the slipperiest of slippery customers. When +Walters stumbled on his trail, through the quick wit of Mary McNilless, +there wasn't the slightest indication that there was such a man. He was +a myth, a bugaboo--elusive as the buzz of a mosquito around your ear. + +During the months they scoured New York in search for him, a number of +other cases developed. Some of these led to very interesting +conclusions, but the majority, as usual, flivvered into thin air. + +The men at headquarters, the very cream of the government services, +gathered from all parts of the country, were naturally unable to +separate the wheat from the chaff in advance. Night after night they +went out on wild-goose chases and sometimes they spent weeks in +following a promising lead--to find only blue sky and peaceful scenery +at the end of it. + +Alan Whitney, who had put in two or three years rounding up +counterfeiters for the Service, and who had been transferred to the +Postal Inspection Service at the time of those registered mail robberies +in the Middle West--only to be detailed to Secret Service work in +connection with the von Ewald case--was one of the bitterest opponents +of this forced inaction. + +"I don't mind trouble," Whitney would growl, "but I do hate this eternal +strain of racing around every time the bell goes off and then finding +that some bonehead pulled the alarm for the sheer joy of seeing the +engines come down the street. There ought to be a law against +irresponsible people sending in groundless 'tips'--just as there's a law +against scandal or libel or any other information that's not founded on +fact." + +But, just the same, Al would dig into every new clue with as much +interest and energy as the rest of the boys--for there's always the +thrill of thinking that the tip you're working on may be the right one +after all. + +Whitney was in the office one morning when the phone rang and the chief +answered it. + +"Yes," he heard the chief say, "this is the right place--but if your +information is really important I would suggest that you come down and +give it in person. Telephones are not the most reliable instruments in +the world." + +A pause followed and the chief's voice again: + +"Well, of course we are always very glad to receive information that +tends to throw any light on those matters, but I must confess that yours +sounds a little vague and far-fetched. Maybe the people in the taxi +merely wanted to find a quiet place to talk.... They got out and were +away for nearly two hours? Hum! Thanks very much. I'll send one of our +men over to talk to you about it, if you don't mind. What's the +address?" + +A moment or two later, after the chief had replaced the receiver, he +called out to Whitney and with a smile that he could barely conceal told +him to catch the next train to Trenton, where, at a certain address, he +would find a Miss Vera Norton, who possessed--or thought she +possessed--information which would be of value to the government in +running down the people responsible for recent bomb outrages and +munition-plant explosions. + +"What's the idea, Chief?" inquired Al. + +"This young lady--at least her voice sounded young over the phone--says +that she got home late from a party last night. She couldn't sleep +because she was all jazzed up from dancing or something, so she sat near +her window, which looks out upon a vacant lot on the corner. Along about +two o'clock a taxicab came putt-putting up the street, stopped at the +corner, and two men carrying black bags hopped out. The taxicab remained +there until nearly four o'clock--three-forty-eight, Miss Norton's watch +said--and then the two men came back, without the bags, jumped in, and +rolled off. That's all she knows, or, at least, all she told. + +"When she picked up the paper round eleven o'clock this mornin' the +first thing that caught her eye was the attempt to blow up the powder +plant 'bout two miles from the Norton home. One paragraph of the story +stated that fragments of a black bag had been picked up near the scene +of the explosion, which only wrecked one of the outhouses, and the young +lady leaped to the conclusion that her two night-owls were mixed up in +the affair. So she called up to tip us off and get her name in history. +Better run over and talk to her. There might be something to the +information, after all." + +"Yes, there _might_," muttered Whitney, "but it's getting so nowadays +that if you walk down the street with a purple tie on, when some one +thinks you ought to be wearing a green one, they want you arrested as a +spy. Confound these amateurs, anyhow! I'm a married man, Chief. Why +don't you send Giles or one of the bachelors on this?" + +"For just that reason," was the reply. "Giles or one of the others would +probably be impressed by the Norton's girl's blond hair--it must be +blond from the way she talked--and spend entirely too much time running +the whole thing to earth. Go on over and get back as soon as you can. We +can't afford to overlook anything these days--neither can we afford to +waste too much time on harvesting crops of goat feathers. Beat it!" + +And Whitney, still protesting, made his way to the tube and was lucky +enough to catch a Trenton train just about to pull out of the station. + +Miss Vera Norton, he found, was a blond--and an extremely pretty one, at +that. Moreover, she appeared to have more sense than the chief had given +her credit for. After Whitney had talked to her for a few minutes he +admitted to himself that it was just as well that Giles hadn't tackled +the case--he might never have come back to New York, and Trenton isn't a +big enough place for a Secret Service man to hide in safety, even when +lured by a pair of extremely attractive gray-blue eyes. + +Apart from her physical charms, however, Whitney was forced to the +conclusion that what she had seen was too sketchy to form anything that +could be termed a real clue. + +"No," she stated, in reply to a question as to whether she could +identify the men in the taxi, "it was too dark and too far off for me to +do that. The arc light on the corner, however, gave me the impression +that they were of medium height and rather thick set. Both of them were +dressed in dark suits of some kind and each carried a black leather bag. +That's what made me think that maybe they were mixed up in that +explosion last night." + +"What kind of bags were they?" + +"Gladstones, I believe you call them. Those bags that are flat on the +bottom and then slant upward and lock at the top." + +"How long was the taxi there?" + +"I don't know just when it did arrive, for I didn't look at my watch +then, but it left at twelve minutes to four. I was getting mighty +sleepy, but I determined to see how long it would stay in one place, for +it costs money to hire a car by the hour--even one of those +Green-and-White taxis." + +"Oh, it was a Green-and-White, eh?" + +"Yes, and I got the number, too," Miss Norton's voice fairly thrilled +with the enthusiasm of her detective ability. "After the men had gotten +out of the car I remembered that my opera glasses were on the bureau and +I used them to get a look at the machine. I couldn't see anything of the +chauffeur beyond the fact that he was hunched down on the front seat, +apparently asleep, and the men came back in such a hurry that I didn't +have time to get a good look at them through the glasses." + +"But the number," Whitney reminded her. + +"I've got it right here," was the reply, as the young lady dug down into +her handbag and drew out a card. "N. Y. four, three, three, five, six, +eight," she read. "I got that when the taxi turned around and headed +back--to New York, I suppose. But what on earth would two men want to +take a taxi from New York all the way to Trenton for? Why didn't they +come on the train?" + +"That, Miss Norton," explained Whitney, "is the point of your story that +makes the whole thing look rather suspicious. I will confess that when +the chief told me what you had said over the phone I didn't place much +faith in it. There might have been a thousand good reasons for men +allowing a local taxi to wait at the corner, but the very fact of its +bearing a New York number makes it a distinctly interesting incident." + +"Then you think that it may be a clue, after all?" + +"It's a clue, all right," replied the operative, "but what it's a clue +to I can't say until we dig farther into the matter. It is probable that +these two men had a date for a poker party or some kind of celebration, +missed the train in New York, and took a taxi over rather than be left +out of the party. But at the same time it's distinctly within the realms +of possibility that the men you saw were implicated in last night's +explosion. It'll take some time to get at the truth of the matter and, +meanwhile, might I ask you to keep this information to yourself?" + +"Indeed I shall!" was the reply. "I won't tell a soul, honestly." + +After that promise, Al left the Norton house and made his way across +town to where the munitions factory reared its hastily constructed head +against the sky. Row after row of flimsy buildings, roofed with tar +paper and giving no outward evidence of their sinister mission in +life--save for the high barbed-wire fence that inclosed them--formed the +entire plant, for there shells were not made, but loaded, and the +majority of the operations were by hand. + +When halted at the gate, Whitney found that even his badge was of no use +in securing entrance. Evidently made cautious by the events of the +preceding night, the guard refused to admit anyone, and even hesitated +about taking Al's card to the superintendent. The initials "U. S. S. S." +finally secured him admittance and such information as was available. + +This, however, consisted only of the fact that some one had cut the +barbed wire at an unguarded point and had placed a charge of explosive +close to one of the large buildings. The one selected was used +principally as a storehouse. Otherwise, as the superintendent indicated +by an expressive wave of his hand, "it would have been good night to the +whole place." + +"Evidently they didn't use a very heavy charge," he continued, "relying +upon the subsequent explosions from the shells inside to do the damage. +If they'd hit upon any other building there'd be nothing but a hole in +the ground now. As it is, the damage won't run over a few thousand +dollars." + +"Were the papers right in reporting that you picked some fragments of a +black bag not far from the scene of the explosion?" Whitney asked. + +"Yes, here they are," and the superintendent produced three pieces of +leather from a drawer in his desk. "Two pieces of the top and what is +evidently a piece of the side." + +Whitney laid them on the desk and examined them carefully for a few +moments. Then: + +"Notice anything funny about these?" he inquired. + +"No. What's the matter?" + +"Not a thing in the world, except that the bag must have had a very +peculiar lock." + +"What's that?" + +"Here--I'll show you," and Whitney tried to put the two pieces of metal +which formed the lock together. But, inasmuch as both of them were +slotted, they wouldn't join. + +"Damnation!" exclaimed the superintendent. "What do you make of that?" + +"That there were two bags instead of one," stated Whitney, calmly. +"Coupled with a little information which I ran into before I came over +here, it begins to look as if we might land the men responsible for this +job before they're many hours older." + +Ten minutes later he was on his way back to New York, not to report at +headquarters, but to conduct a few investigations at the headquarters of +the Green-and-White Taxicab Company. + +"Can you tell me," he inquired of the manager in charge, "just where +your taxi bearing the license number four, three, three, five, six, +eight was last night?" + +"I can't," said the manager, "but we'll get the chauffeur up here and +find out in short order. + +"Hello!" he called over an office phone. "Who has charge of our cab +bearing license number four, three, three, five, six, eight?... Murphy? +Is he in?... Send him up--I'd like to talk to him." + +A few moments later a beetle-jawed and none too cleanly specimen of the +genus taxi driver swaggered in and didn't even bother to remove his cap +before sitting down. + +"Murphy," said the Green-and-White manager, "where was your cab last +night?" + +"Well, let's see," commenced the chauffeur. "I took a couple to the +Amsterdam The-ayter in time for th' show an' then picked up a fare on +Broadway an' took him in the Hunnerd-an'-forties some place. Then I +cruised around till the after-theater crowd began to come up an'--an' I +got one more fare for Yonkers. Another long trip later on made it a +pretty good night." + +"Murphy," cut in Whitney, edging forward into the conversation, "where +and at just what hour of the night did those two Germans offer you a +hundred dollars for the use of your car all evening?" + +"They didn't offer me no hunnerd dollars," growled the chauffeur, "they +gave me...." Then he checked himself suddenly and added, in an +undertone, "I don't know nothin' 'bout no Goimans." + +"The hell you don't!" snarled Whitney, edging toward the door. "Back up +against that desk and keep your hands on top of it, or I'll pump holes +clean through you!" + +His right hand was in his coat pocket, the fingers closed around what +was very palpably the butt of an automatic. Murphy could see the outline +of the weapon and obeyed instructions, while Whitney slammed the door +with his left hand. + +"Now look here," he snapped, taking a step nearer to the taxi driver, "I +want the truth and I want it quick! Also, it's none of your business why +I want it! But you better come clean if you know what's good for you. +Out with it! Where did you meet 'em and where did you drive 'em?" + +Realizing that escape was cut off and thoroughly cowed by the display of +force, Murphy told the whole story--or as much of it as he knew. + +"I was drivin' down Broadway round Twenty-eig't Street last night, 'bout +ten o'clock," he confessed. "I'd taken that couple to the the-ayter, +just as I told you, an' that man up to Harlem. Then one of these t'ree +guys hailed me...." + +"Three?" interrupted Whitney. + +"That's what I said--t'ree! They said they wanted to borrow my machine +until six o'clock in th' mornin' an' would give me two hunnerd dollars +for it. I told 'em there was nothin' doin' an' they offered me +two-fifty, swearin' that they'd have it back at th' same corner at six +o'clock sharp. Two hunnerd an' fifty bones being a whole lot more than I +could make in a night, I gambled with 'em an' let 'em have th' machine, +makin' sure that I got the coin foist. They drove off, two of 'em +inside, an' I put in th' rest of th' night shootin' pool. When I got to +th' corner of Twenty-eig't at six o'clock this mornin', there wasn't any +sign of 'em--but th' car was there, still hot from the hard ride they +give her. That's all I know--'shelp me Gawd!" + +"Did the men have any bags with them?" + +"Bags? No, not one." + +"What did they look like?" + +"The one that talked with me was 'bout my heig't an' dressed in a dark +suit. He an' th' others had their hats pulled down over their eyes, so's +I couldn't see their faces." + +"Did he talk with a German accent?" + +"He sure did. I couldn't hardly make out what he was sayin'. But his +money talked plain enough." + +"Yes, and it's very likely to talk loud enough to send you to the pen if +you're not careful!" was Whitney's reply. "If you don't want to land +there, keep your mouth shut about this. D'you get me?" + +"I do, boss, I do." + +"And you've told me all the truth--every bit of it?" + +"Every little bit." + +"All right. Clear out!" + +When Murphy left the room, Whitney turned to the manager and, with a wry +smile, remarked: "Well, we've discovered where the car came from and how +they got it. But that's all. We're really as much in the dark as +before." + +"No," replied the manager, musingly. "Not quite as much. Possibly you +don't know it, but we have a device on every car that leaves this garage +to take care of just such cases as this--to prevent drivers from running +their machines all over town without pulling down the lever and then +holding out the fares on us. Just a minute and I'll show you. + +"Joe," he called, "bring me the record tape of Murphy's machine for last +night and hold his car till you hear from me." + +"This tape," he explained, a few minutes later, "is operated something +along the lines of a seismograph or any other instrument for detecting +change in direction. An inked needle marks these straight lines and +curves all the time the machine is moving, and when it is standing still +it oscillates slightly. By glancing at these tapes we can tell when any +chauffeur is holding out on us, for it forms a clear record--not only of +the distance the machine has traveled, but of the route it followed." + +"Doesn't the speedometer give you the distance?" asked Whitney. + +"Theoretically, yes. But it's a very simple matter to disconnect a +speedometer, while this record is kept in a locked box and not one +driver in ten even knows it's there. Now, let's see what Murphy's record +tape tells us.... + +"Yes, here's the trip to the theater around eight-thirty. See the sharp +turn from Fifth Avenue into Forty-second Street, the momentary stop in +front of the Amsterdam, and the complete sweep as he turned around to +get back to Broadway. Then there's the journey up to the Bronx or Harlem +or wherever he went, another complete turn and an uninterrupted trip +back down on Broadway." + +"Then this," cut in Whitney, unable to keep the excitement out of his +voice, "is where he stopped to speak to the Germans?" + +"Precisely," agreed the other, "and, as you'll note, that stop was +evidently longer than either of the other two. They paid their fares, +while Murphy's friends had to be relieved of two hundred and fifty +dollars." + +"From there on is what I'm interested in," announced Whitney. "What does +the tape say?" + +"It doesn't _say_ anything," admitted the manager, with a smile. "But it +_indicates_ a whole lot. In fact, it blazes a blood-red trail that you +ought to be able to follow with very little difficulty. See, when the +machine started it kept on down Broadway--in fact, there's no sign of a +turn for several blocks." + +"How many?" + +"That we can't tell--now. But we can figure it up very accurately later. +The machine then turned to the right and went west for a short distance +only--stopped for a few moments--and then went on, evidently toward the +ferry, for here's a delay to get on board, here's a wavy line evidently +made by the motion of the boat when the hand ought to have been +practically at rest, and here's where they picked up the trip to +Trenton. Evidently they didn't have to stop until they got there, +because we have yards of tape before we reach a stop point, and then the +paper is worn completely through by the action of the needle in +oscillating, indicative of a long period of inaction. The return trip is +just as plain." + +"But," Whitney objected, "the whole thing hinges on where they went +before going to Trenton. Murphy said they didn't have any bags, so they +must have gone home or to some rendezvous to collect them. How are we +going to find the corner where the machine turned?" + +"By taking Murphy's car and driving it very carefully south on Broadway +until the tape indicates precisely the distance marked on this one--the +place where the turn was made. Then, driving down that street, the +second distance shown on the tape will give you approximately the house +you're looking for!" + +"Good Lord," exclaimed Whitney, "that's applying science to it! Sherlock +Holmes wasn't so smart, after all!" + +Al and the manager agreed that there was too much traffic on Broadway in +the daytime or early evening to attempt the experiment, but shortly +after midnight, belated pedestrians might have wondered why a +Green-and-White taxicab containing two men proceeded down Broadway at a +snail's pace, while every now and then it stopped and one of the men got +out to examine something inside. + +"I think this is the corner," whispered the garage manager to Whitney, +when they reached Eighth Street, "but to be sure, we'll go back and try +it over again, driving at a normal pace. It's lucky that this is a new +instrument and therefore very accurate." + +The second trial produced the same result as the first--the place they +sought lay a few blocks west of Broadway, on Eighth. + +Before they tried to find out the precise location of the house, Whitney +phoned to headquarters and requested loan of a score of men to assist +him in the contemplated raid. + +"Tell 'em to have their guns handy," he ordered, "because we may have +to surround the block and search every house." + +But the taxi tape rendered that unnecessary. It indicated any one of +three adjoining houses on the north side of the street, because, as the +manager pointed out, the machine had not turned round again until it +struck a north-and-south thoroughfare, hence the houses must be on the +north side. + +By this time the reserves were on hand and, upon instructions from +Whitney, spread out in a fan-shaped formation, completely surrounding +the houses, front and rear. At a blast from a police whistle they +mounted the steps and, not waiting for the doors to be opened, went +through them shoulders first. + +It was Whitney, who had elected to assist in the search of the center +house, who captured his prey in a third-floor bedroom. + +Before the Germans knew what was happening Al was in the room, his +flashlight playing over the floor and table in a hasty search for +incriminating evidence. It didn't take long to find it, either. In one +corner, only partly concealed by a newspaper whose flaring headlines +referred to the explosion of the night before, was a collection of bombs +which, according to later expert testimony was sufficient to blow a +good-sized hole in the city of New York. + +That was all they discovered at the time, but a judicious use of the +third degree--coupled with promises of leniency--induced one of the +prisoners to loosen up the next day and he told the whole +story--precisely as the taxi tape and Vera Norton had told it. The only +missing ingredient was the power behind the plot--the mysterious "No. +859"--whom Dick Walters later captured because of the clue on Shelf +forty-five. + + * * * * * + +"So you see," commented Quinn as he finished, "the younger Pitt wasn't +so far wrong when he cynically remarked that 'there is a Providence that +watches over children, imbeciles, and the United States.' In this case +the principal clues were a book from the Public Library, the chance +observations of a girl who couldn't sleep and a piece of white paper +with some red markings on it. + +"At that, though, it's not the first time that German agents have gotten +into trouble over a scrap of paper." + +"What happened to Vera Norton?" I inquired. + +"Beyond a little personal glory, not a thing in the world," replied +Quinn. "Didn't I tell you that Al was married? You're always looking for +romance, even in everyday life. Besides, if he had been a bachelor, +Whitney was too busy trying to round up the other loose ends of the +Ewald case. 'Number eight fifty-nine' hadn't been captured then, you +remember. + +"Give me a match--my pipe's gone out. No, I can't smoke it here; it's +too late. But speaking of small clues that lead to big things, some day +soon I'll tell you the story of how a match--one just like this, for all +I know--led to the uncovering of one of the most difficult smuggling +cases that the Customs Service ever tried to solve." + + + + +IX + +A MATCH FOR THE GOVERNMENT + + +"I wonder how long it will take," mused Bill Quinn, as he tossed aside a +copy of his favorite fictional monthly, "to remove the ethical +restrictions which the war placed upon novels and short stories? Did you +ever notice the changing style in villains, for example? A decade or so +ago it was all the rage to have a Japanese do the dirty work--for then +we were taking the 'yellow peril' rather seriously and it was reflected +in our reading matter. The tall, well-dressed Russian, with a sinister +glitter in his black eyes, next stepped upon the scene, to be followed +by the villain whose swarthy complexion gave a hint of his Latin +ancestry. + +"For the past few years, of course, every real villain has had to have +at least a touch of Teutonic blood to account for the various +treacheries which he tackles. I don't recall a single novel--or a short +story, either--that has had an English or French villain who is foiled +in the last few pages. I suppose you'd call it the _entente cordiale_ of +the novelists, a sort of concerted attempt by the writing clan to do +their bit against the Hun. And mighty good propaganda it was, too.... + +"But, unfortunately, the detective of real life can't always tell by +determining a man's nationality whether he's going to turn out to be a +crook or a hero. When you come right down to it, every country has about +the same proportion of each and it's only by the closest observation +that one can arrive at a definite and fact-supported conclusion. + +"Details--trifles unnoticed in themselves--play a far larger part in the +final dénouement than any preconceived ideas or fanciful theories. There +was the case of Ezra Marks and the Dillingham diamonds, for example...." + + * * * * * + +Ezra [continued the former Secret Service operative, when he had eased +his game leg into a position where it no longer gave him active trouble] +was all that the name implied. Born in Vermont, of a highly puritanical +family, he had been named for his paternal grandfather and probably also +for some character from the Old Testament. I'm not awfully strong on +that Biblical stuff myself. + +It wasn't long after he grew up, however, that life on the farm began to +pall. He found a copy of the life of Alan Pinkerton somewhere and read +it through until he knew it from cover to cover. As was only natural in +a boy of his age, he determined to become a great detective, and drifted +down to Boston with that object in view. But, once in the city, he found +that "detecting" was a little more difficult than he had imagined, and +finally agreed to compromise by accepting a very minor position in the +Police Department. Luckily, his beat lay along the water front and he +got tangled up in two or three smuggling cases which he managed to +unravel in fine shape, and, in this way, attracted the attention of the +Customs Branch of the Treasury Department, which is always on the +lookout for new timber. It's a hard life, you know, and one which +doesn't constitute a good risk for an insurance company. So there are +always gaps to be filled--and Ezra plugged up one of them very nicely. + +As might have been expected, the New Englander was hardly ever addressed +by his full name. "E. Z." was the title they coined for him, and "E. Z." +he was from that time on--at least to everyone in the Service. The +people on the other side of the fence, however, the men and women who +look upon the United States government as a joke and its laws as hurdles +over which they can jump whenever they wish--found that this Mark was +far from an easy one. He it was who handled the Wang Foo opium case in +San Diego in nineteen eleven. He nailed the gun runners at El Paso when +half a dozen other men had fallen down on the assignment, and there were +at least three Canadian cases which bore the imprint of his latent +genius on the finished reports. + +His particular kind of genius was distinctly out of the ordinary, too. +He wasn't flashy and he was far from a hard worker. He just stuck around +and watched everything worth watching until he located the tip he +wanted. Then he went to it--and the case was finished! + +The chap who stated that "genius is the capacity for infinite attention +to details" had Ezra sized up to a T. And it was one of these +details--probably the most trifling one of all--that led to his most +startling success. + +Back in the spring of nineteen twelve the European agents of the +Treasury Department reported to Washington that a collection of uncut +diamonds, most of them rather large, had been sold to the German +representative of a firm in Rotterdam. From certain tips which they +picked up, however, the men abroad were of the opinion that the stones +were destined for the United States and advised that all German boats be +carefully watched, because the Dillingham diamonds--as the collection +was known--had been last heard of en route to Hamburg and it was to be +expected that they would clear from there. + +The cablegram didn't cause any wild excitement in the Treasury +Department. European agents have a habit of trying to stir up trouble in +order to make it appear that they are earning their money and then they +claim that the people over here are not always alert enough to follow +their tips. It's the old game of passing the buck. You have to expect it +in any business. + +But, as events turned out, the men on the other side were dead right. + +Almost before Washington had time officially to digest the cable and to +mail out the stereotyped warnings based upon it, a report filtered in +from Wheeling, West Virginia, that one of the newly made coal +millionaires in that section had invested in some uncut diamonds as +large as the end of your thumb. The report came in merely as a routine +statement, but it set the customs authorities to thinking. + +Uncut stones, you know, are hard to locate, either when they are being +brought in or after they actually arrive. Their color is dull and +slatelike and there is little to distinguish them from other and far +less valuable pebbles. Of course, there might not be the slightest +connection in the world between the Wheeling diamonds and those of the +Dillingham collection--but then, on the other hand, there might.... + +Hence, it behooved the customs people to put on a little more speed and +to watch the incoming steamers just as carefully as they knew how. + +Some weeks passed and the department had sunk back into a state of +comfortable ease--broken only occasionally by a minor case or two--when +a wire arrived one morning stating that two uncut diamonds had appeared +in New York under conditions which appeared distinctly suspicious. The +owner had offered them at a price 'way under the market figure, and +then, rather than reply to one or two questions relative to the history +of the stones, had disappeared. There was no record of the theft of any +diamonds answering to the description of those seen in Maiden Lane, and +the police force inquired if Washington thought they could have been +smuggled. + +"Of course they could," snorted the chief. "But there's nothing to prove +it. Until we get our hands upon them and a detailed description of the +Dillingham stones, it's impossible to tell." + +So he cabled abroad for an accurate list of the diamonds which had been +sold a couple of months earlier, with special instructions to include +any identifying marks, as it was essential to spot the stones before a +case could be built up in court. + +The following Tuesday a long dispatch from Rotterdam reached the +department, stating, among other things, that one of the Dillingham +diamonds could be distinguished by a heart-shaped flaw located just +below the surface. That same afternoon came another wire from New York +to the effect that two rough stones, answering to the description of the +ones alluded to in a previous message, had turned up in the jewelry +district after passing through half a dozen underground channels. + +"Has one of the diamonds a heart-shaped flaw in it?" the chief inquired +by wire. + +"It has," came back the response. "How did you know it?" + +"I didn't," muttered the head of the Customs Service, "but I took a +chance. The odds were twenty to one against me, but I've seen these long +shots win before. Now," ringing for Mahoney, his assistant, "we'll see +what can be done to keep the rest of that collection from drifting +in--if it hasn't already arrived." + +"Where's Marks located now?" the chief inquired when Mahoney entered. + +"Somewhere in the vicinity of Buffalo, I believe. He's working on that +Chesbro case, the one in connection with--" + +"I know," cut in the chief. "But that's pin money compared with this +matter of the Dillingham diamonds. Thousands of dollars are at stake +here, against hundreds there. Besides, if this thing ever leaks out to +the papers we'll never hear the last of it. The New York office isn't in +any too strong as it is. Wire Marks to drop the trail of those silk +hounds and beat it to New York as fast as he can. He'll find real work +awaiting him there--something that ought to prove a test of the +reputation he's built up on the other three borders. Hurry it up!" + +"E. Z." found the message awaiting him when he returned to his hotel +that night, and without the slightest symptom of a grouch grabbed the +next train for New York. As he told me later, he didn't mind in the +least dropping the silk matter, because he had put in the better part of +a month on it and didn't seem any closer than when he started. + +It took Ezra less than five minutes to get all the dope the New York +office had on the case--and it took him nearly six months to solve it. + +"The two diamonds in Wheeling and the two that turned up here are the +only ones we know about," said the man in charge of the New York office. +"The original Dillingham collection contained twenty-one rough +stones--but whether the other seventeen have already been brought in or +whether the people who are handling them have shipped them elsewhere is +wholly problematical. The chief learned about the heart-shaped flaw from +our man at Rotterdam, so that identifies one of the stones. But at the +same time it doesn't help us in the least--for we can't handle the case +from this end." + +"Same rules as on the Coast, eh?" inquired Marks. + +"Precisely. You've got to tackle the other end of the game. No rummaging +around here, trying to pick up the trail that ends with the stone in +Maiden Lane. As you know, this bunch is pretty well organized, wheels +within wheels and fences on fences. You get something on one of them and +the rest of the crowd will perjure themselves black in the face to get +him off, with the result that your case will be laughed out of court and +the man you're really after--the chap who's running the stones under +your nose--is a thousand miles away with a grin on his face. You've got +to land him first and the others later, if the chief wants them. The +chances are, though, that he'll be well satisfied to have the goods on +the crook that's doing the main part of the work." + +"Well," drawled Marks, "I trust he gets his satisfaction. Got any ideas +on the matter?" + +"Nary an idea. The stones were sold abroad and presumably they were +headed for Hamburg--which would appear to point to a German boat. Four +of them, supposedly--one of them, certainly--turned up here without +passing through the office or paying the customary duty. Now go to it!" + +When Marks got back to his hotel and started to think the problem over, +he had to admit that there wasn't very much to "go to." It was the +thinnest case he had ever tackled--a perfect circle of a problem, +without the slightest sign of a beginning, save the one which was +barred. + +Anxious as he was to make good, he had to concede that the department's +policy of working from the other end of the case was the right course to +follow. He had heard of too many arrests that fell flat, too many weary +weeks of work that went for nothing--because the evidence was +insufficient--not to realize the justice of the regulations that +appeared to hamper him. + +"No," he thought, as he half dreamed over a pipe-load of tobacco, "the +case seems to be impregnable. But there must be some way to jimmy into +it if you try long enough." + +His first move was the fairly obvious one of searching the newspaper +files to discover just what ships had docked during the ten days +previous to the appearance of the stones in Wheeling. But this led +nowhere, because that week had been a very busy one in maritime circles. +The _Celtic_, the _Mauretania_, the _Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse_, the +_Kronprinzessin Cecelie_, the _Deutschland_ and a host of other smaller +vessels had landed within that time. + +Just as a check upon his observations, he examined the records for the +week preceding the first appearance of the diamonds in New York. Here +again he ran into a snag, but one which enabled him to eliminate at +least half of the vessels he had considered before. However, there still +remained a sufficient number to make it impossible to watch all of them +or even to fix upon two or three which appeared more suspicious than the +others. + +The information from abroad pointed to the fact that a German boat was +carrying the diamonds, but, Marks figured, there was nothing in the +world to prevent the stones from being taken into England or France or +Italy and reshipped from there. They had turned up in the United States, +so why couldn't they have been slipped through the customs of other +countries just as easily? + +The one point about the whole matter that appeared significant to him +was that two stones had been reported in each case--a pair in Wheeling +and another pair in New York. This evidence would be translated either +to mean that the smugglers preferred to offer the diamonds in small +lots, so as not to center suspicion too sharply in their movements, or +that the space which they used to conceal the stones was extremely +limited. + +Marks inclined to the latter theory, because two stones, rather than +one, had been offered in each instance. If the whole lot had been run +in, he argued, the men responsible would market them singly, rather than +in pairs. This would not detract in the slightest from the value of the +stones, as it isn't easy to match rough diamonds and thus increase their +market value. + +Having settled this matter to his own satisfaction and being convinced +that, as not more than two stones were being run in at one time, it +would take at least eight more trips to import the entire shipment, +"E. Z." settled down to a part of the government detective's work which +is the hardest and the most necessary in his life--that which can best +be characterized by the phrase "watchful waiting." + +For weeks at a time he haunted the docks and wharves along the New York +water front. His tall, angular figure became a familiar sight at every +landing place and his eyes roamed restlessly over the crowds that came +down the gangplank. In a number of instances he personally directed the +searching of bags and baggage which appeared to be suspicious. Save for +locating a few bolts of valuable lace and an oil painting concealed in +the handle of a walking stick which was patently hollow, he failed to +turn up a thing. + +The only ray of hope that he could glimpse was the fact that, since he +had been assigned to the case, four more stones had been reported--again +in pairs. This proved that his former reasoning had been correct and +also that the smugglers evidently intended to bring in all of the +twenty-one stones, two at a time. But when he came to catalog the hiding +places which might be used to conceal two articles of the size of the +stones already spotted, he was stumped. The list included a walking +stick, the heels of a pair of women's shoes, two dummy pieces of candy +concealed in a box of real confections, a box of talcum, a bag of +marbles, the handle of an umbrella, or any one of a number of other +trinkets which travelers carry as a matter of course or bring home as +curios or gifts. + +Finally, after two solid months of unproductive work, he boarded the +midnight train for Washington and strolled into the chief's office the +following morning, to lay his cards on the table. + +"Frankly," he admitted, "I haven't accomplished a thing. I'm as far from +breaking into the circle as I was at the beginning, and, so far as I can +see, there isn't any hope of doing it for some time to come." + +"Well," inquired the chief, "do you want to be relieved of the case or +do you want me to drop the matter entirely--to confess that the Customs +Service has been licked by a single clever smuggler?" + +"Not at all!" and Marks's tone indicated that such a thought had never +entered his head. "I want the Service to stick with the case and I want +to continue to handle it. But I do want a definite assurance of time." + +"How much time?" + +"That I can't say. The only lead I've located--and that isn't sufficient +to be dignified by the term 'clue'--will take weeks and probably months +to run to earth. I don't see another earthly trail to follow, but I +would like to have time to see whether this one leads anywhere." + +"All right," agreed the chief, fully realizing what "E. Z." was up +against and not being hurried by any pressure from the outside--for the +case had been carefully kept out of the newspapers--"this is September. +Suppose we say the first of the year? How does that suit you?" + +"Fair enough, if that's the best you can do." + +"I'm afraid it is," was the comment from across the desk, "because +that's all the case is worth to us. Your time is valuable and we can't +afford to spend a year on any case--unless it's something as big as the +sugar frauds. Stick with it until New Year's, and if nothing new +develops before then we'll have to admit we're licked and turn you loose +on something else." + +"Thanks, Chief," said Marks, getting up from his chair. "You can depend +upon my doing everything possible in the next three months to locate the +leak and I surely appreciate your kindness in not delivering an +ultimatum that you want the smuggler or my job. But then I guess you +know that I couldn't work any harder than I'm going to, anyhow." + +"Possibly," agreed the head of the Service, "and then, again, it may be +because I have confidence that you'll turn the trick within the year. +Want any help from this end?" + +"No, thanks. This looks like a one-man game and it ought not to take +more than one man to finish it. A whole bunch of people always clutter +up the place and get you tangled in their pet theories and personal +ideas. What I would like, though, is to be kept in close touch with any +further developments concerning stones that appear later on--where they +are located--their exact weight and diameter, and any other facts that +might indicate a possible hiding place." + +"You'll get that, all right," promised the chief. "And I trust that +you'll develop a red-hot trail of your own before January first." + +With that Marks shook hands and started back to New York, fairly well +pleased with the results of his trip, but totally disgusted with the +lack of progress which he had made since leaving Buffalo. + +Early in October a message from Washington informed him that a couple of +uncut diamonds had turned up in Cincinnati, stones which answered to the +description of a pair in the Dillingham collection. + +Around the 10th of November another pair was heard from in Boston, and +anyone who was familiar with Marks and his methods would have noted a +tightening of the muscles around his mouth and a narrowing of his eyes +which always indicated that he was nearing the solution of a difficulty. + +After receiving the November message he stopped haunting the wharves and +commenced to frequent the steamship offices of the Hamburg-American, +North German Lloyd and Llanarch lines. The latter, as you probably know, +is operated by Welsh and British capital and runs a few small boats +carrying passengers who would ordinarily travel second class, together +with a considerable amount of freight. + +When the first day of December dawned, Marks drew a deep-red circle +around the name of the month on his calendar and emitted a prayerful +oath, to the effect he'd "be good and eternally damned if that month +didn't contain an unexpected Christmas present for a certain person." He +made no pretense of knowing who the person was--but he did feel that he +was considerably closer to his prey than he had been five months before. + +Fate, as some one has already remarked, only deals a man a certain +number of poor hands before his luck changes. Sometimes it gets worse, +but, on the average, it improves. In Ezra Marks's case Fate took the +form of a storm at sea, one of those winter hurricanes that sweep +across the Atlantic and play havoc with shipping. + +Ezra was patiently waiting for one of three boats. Which one, he didn't +know--but by the process of elimination he had figured to a mathematical +certainty that one of them ought to carry two uncut diamonds which were +destined never to visit the customs office. Little by little, through +the months that had passed, he had weeded out the ships which failed to +make port at the time the diamonds arrived--calculating the time by the +dates on which the stones appeared elsewhere--and there were only three +ships left. One of them was a North German Lloyder, the second belonged +to the Hamburg-American fleet, and the third possessed an +unpronounceable Welsh name and flew the pennant of the Llanarch line. + +As it happened, the two German ships ran into the teeth of the gale and +were delayed three days in their trip, while the Welsh boat missed the +storm entirely and docked on time. + +Two days later came a message from Washington to the effect that two +diamonds, uncut, had been offered for sale in Philadelphia. + +"Have to have one more month," replied Marks. "Imperative! Can +practically guarantee success by fifteenth of January"--for that was the +date on which the Welsh ship was due to return. + +"Extension granted," came the word from Washington. "Rely on you to make +good. Can't follow case any longer than a month under any +circumstances." + +Marks grinned when he got that message. The trap was set, and, unless +something unforeseen occurred, "E. Z." felt that the man and the method +would both be in the open before long. + +When the Welsh ship was reported off quarantine in January, Marks +bundled himself into a big fur coat and went down the bay in one of the +government boats, leaving instructions that, the moment the ship docked, +she was to be searched from stem to stern. + +"Don't overlook as much as a pill box or a rat hole," he warned his +assistants, and more than a score of men saw to it that his instructions +were carried out to the letter. + +Beyond exhibiting his credentials, Marks made no effort to explain why +the ship was under suspicion. He watched the deck closely to prevent the +crew from throwing packages overboard, and as soon as they reached dock +he requested all officers to join him in one of the big rooms belonging +to the Customs Service. There he explained his reasons for believing +that some one on board was guilty of defrauding the government out of +duty on a number of uncut diamonds. + +"What's more," he concluded, at the end of an address which was +purposely lengthy in order to give his men time to search the ship, "I +am willing to stake my position against the fact that two more diamonds +are on board the ship at this moment!" + +Luckily, no one took him up--for he was wrong. + +The captain, pompous and self-assertive, preferred to rise and rant +against the "infernal injustice of this high-handed method." + +Marks settled back to listen in silence and his fingers strayed to the +side pocket of his coat where his pet pipe reposed. His mind strayed to +the thought of how his men were getting along on the ship, and he +absent-mindedly packed the pipe and struck a match to light it. + +It was then that his eye fell upon the man seated beside him--Halley, +the British first mate of the steamer. He had seen him sitting there +before, but had paid little attention to him. Now he became aware of +the fact that the mate was smoking a huge, deep-bowled meerschaum pipe. +At least, it had been in his mouth ever since he entered, ready to be +smoked, but unlighted. + +Almost without thinking about it, Marks leaned forward and presented the +lighted match, holding it above the mate's pipe. + +"Light?" he inquired, in a matter-of-fact tone. + +To his amazement, the other started back as if he had been struck, and +then, recovering himself, muttered: "No, thanks. I'm not smoking." + +"Not smoking?" was the thought that flashed through Marks's head, "then +why--" + +But the solution of the matter flashed upon him almost instantly. Before +the mate had time to move, Marks's hand snapped forward and seized the +pipe. With the same movement he turned it upside down and rapped the +bowl upon the table. Out fell a fair amount of tobacco, followed by two +slate-colored pebbles which rolled across the table under the very eyes +of the captain! + +"I guess that's all the evidence we need!" Marks declared, with a laugh +of relief. "You needn't worry about informing your consul and entering a +protest, Captain Williams. I'll take charge of your mate and these +stones and you can clear when you wish." + + + + +X + +THE GIRL AT THE SWITCHBOARD + + +"When you come right down to it," mused Bill Quinn, "women came as near +to winning the late but unlamented war as did any other single factor. + +"The Food Administration placarded their statement that 'Food Will Win +the War' broadcast throughout the country, and that was followed by a +whole flock of other claimants, particularly after the armistice was +signed. But there were really only two elements that played a leading +role in the final victory--men and guns. And women backed these to the +limit of their powerful ability--saving food, buying bonds, doing extra +work, wearing a smile when their hearts were torn, and going 'way out of +their usual sphere in hundreds of cases--and making good in practically +every one of them. + +"So far as we know, the Allied side presented no analogy to Mollie +Pitcher or the other heroines of past conflicts, for war has made such +forward steps that personal heroism on the part of women is almost +impossible. Of course, we had Botchkareva and her 'Regiment of Death,' +not to mention Edith Cavell, but the list is not a long one. + +"When it is finally completed, however, there are a few names which the +public hasn't yet heard which will stand well toward the front. For +example, there was Virginia Lang--" + +"Was she the girl at the switchboard that you mentioned in connection +with the von Ewald case?" I interrupted. + +"That's the one," said Quinn, "and, what's more, she played a leading +role in that melodrama, a play in which they didn't use property guns or +cartridges." + + * * * * * + +Miss Lang [continued Quinn] was one of the few women I ever heard of +that practically solved a Secret Service case "on her own." Of course, +in the past, the different governmental detective services have found it +to their advantage to go outside the male sex for assistance. + +There have been instances where women in the employ of the Treasury +Department rendered valuable service in trailing smugglers--the matter +of the Deauville diamonds is a case in point--and even the Secret +Service hasn't been above using women to assist in running +counterfeiters to earth, while the archives of the State Department +would reveal more than one interesting record of feminine co-operation +in connection with underground diplomacy. + +But in all these cases the women were employed to handle the work and +they were only doing what they were paid for, while Virginia Lang-- + +Well, in the first place, she was one of the girls in charge of the +switchboard at the Rennoc in New York. You know the place--that big +apartment hotel on Riverside Drive where the lobby is only a shade less +imposing than the bell-boys and it costs you a month's salary to speak +to the superintendent. They never have janitors in a place like that. + +Virginia herself--I came to know her fairly well in the winter of +nineteen seventeen, after Dave Carroll had gone to the front--was well +qualified by nature to be the heroine of any story. Rather above the +average in size, she had luckily taken advantage of her physique to +round out her strength with a gymnasium course. But in spite of being a +big woman, she had the charm and personality which are more often found +in those less tall. When you couple this with a head of wonderful hair, +a practically perfect figure, eyes into which a man could look and, +looking, lose himself, lips which would have caused a lip stick to blush +and--Oh, what's the use? Words only caricature a beautiful woman, and, +besides, if you haven't gotten the effect already, there's nothing that +I could tell you that would help any. + +In the spring of nineteen sixteen, when the von Ewald chase was at its +height, Miss Lang was employed at the Rennoc switchboard and it speaks +well for her character when I can tell you that not one of the bachelor +tenants ever tried a second time to put anything over. Virginia's eyes +could snap when they wanted to and Virginia's lips could frame a cutting +retort as readily as a pleasant phrase. + +In a place like the Rennoc, run as an apartment hotel, the guests change +quite frequently, and it was some task to keep track of all of them, +particularly when there were three girls working in the daytime, though +only one was on at night. They took it by turns--each one working one +week in four at night and the other three holding down the job from +eight to six. So, as it happened, Virginia did not see Dave Carroll +until he had been there nearly a month. He blew in from Washington early +one evening and straightway absented himself from the hotel until +sometime around seven the following morning, following the schedule +right through, every night. + +Did you ever know Carroll? He and I worked together on the Farron case +out in St. Louis, the one where a bookmaker at the races tipped us off +to the biggest counterfeiting scheme ever attempted in this country, and +after that he took part in a number of other affairs, including the one +which prevented the Haitian revolution in nineteen thirteen. + +Dave wasn't what you would call good-looking, though he did have a way +with women. The first night that he came downstairs--after a good day's +sleep--and spotted Virginia Lang on the switchboard, he could have been +pardoned for wandering over and trying to engage her in a conversation. +But the only rise he got was from her eyebrows. They went up in that +"I-am-sure-I-have-never-met-you" manner which is guaranteed to be cold +water to the most ardent male, and the only reply she vouchsafed was +"What number did you wish?" + +"You appear to have mine," Dave laughed, and then asked for Rector 2800, +the private branch which connected with the Service headquarters. + +When he came out of the booth he was careful to confine himself to +"Thank you" and the payment of his toll. But there was something about +him that made Virginia Lang feel he was "different"--a word which, with +women, may mean anything--or nothing. Then she returned to the reading +of her detective story, a type of literature to which she was much +addicted. + +Carroll, as you have probably surmised, was one of the more than +twoscore Government operatives sent to New York to work on the von Ewald +case. His was a night shift, with roving orders to wander round the +section in the neighborhood of Columbus Circle and stand ready to get +anywhere in the upper section of the city in a hurry in case anything +broke. But, beyond reporting to headquarters regularly every hour, the +assignment was not exactly eventful. + +The only thing that was known about von Ewald at that time was that a +person using such a name--or alias--was in charge of the German +intrigues against American neutrality. Already nearly a score of bomb +outrages, attempts to destroy shipping, plots against munition plants, +and the like had been laid at his door, but the elusive Hun had yet to +be spotted. Indeed, there were many men in the Service who doubted the +existence of such a person, and of these Carroll was one. + +But he shrugged his shoulders and stoically determined to bear the +monotony of strolling along Broadway and up, past the Plaza, to Fifth +Avenue and back again every night--a program which was varied only by an +occasional séance at Reisenweber's or Pabst's, for that was in the days +before the one-half of one per cent represented the apotheosis of liquid +refreshment. + +It was while he was walking silently along Fifty-ninth Street, on the +north side, close to the Park, a few nights after his brush with +Virginia Lang, that Carroll caught the first definite information about +the case that anyone had obtained. + +He hadn't noted the men until he was almost upon them, for the night was +dark and the operative's rubber heels made no sound upon the pavement. +Possibly he wouldn't have noticed them then if it hadn't been for a +phrase or two of whispered German that floated out through the +shrubbery. + +"He will stay at Conner's" was what reached Carroll's ears. "That will +be our chance--a rare opportunity to strike two blows at once, one at +our enemy and the other at this smug, self-satisfied nation which is +content to make money out of the slaughter of Germany's sons. Once he is +in the hotel, the rest will be easy." + +"How?" inquired a second voice. + +"A bomb, so arranged to explode with the slightest additional pressure, +in a--" + +"Careful," growled a third man. "Eight fifty-nine would hardly care to +have his plans spread all over New York. This cursed shrubbery is so +dense that there is no telling who may be near. Come!" + +And Carroll, crouched on the outside of the fence which separates the +street from the Park, knew that seconds were precious if he was to get +any further information. A quick glance down the street showed him that +the nearest gate was too far away to permit of entrance in that manner. +So, slipping his automatic into the side pocket of his coat he leaped +upward and grasped the top of the iron fence. On the other side he could +hear the quick scuffle of feet as the Germans, alarmed, began to retreat +rapidly. + +A quick upward heave, a purchase with his feet, and he was over, his +revolver in his hand the instant he lighted on the other side. + +"Halt!" he called, more from force of habit than from anything else, for +he had no idea that any of the trio would stop. + +But evidently one of them did, for from behind the shelter of a near-by +bush came the quick spat of a revolver and a tongue of flame shot toward +him. The bullet, however, sung harmlessly past and he replied with a +fusillade of shots that ripped through the bush and brought a shower of +German curses from the other side. Then another of the conspirators +opened fire from a point at right angles to the first, and the ruse was +successful, for it diverted Carroll's attention long enough to permit +the escape of the first man, and the operative was still flat on the +ground, edging his way cautiously forward when the Park police arrived, +the vanguard of a curious crowd attracted by the shots. + +"What's the trouble?" demanded the "sparrow cop." + +"None at all," replied Dave, as he slipped the still warm revolver into +his pocket and brushed some dirt from his sleeve. "Guy tried to hold me +up, that's all, and I took a pot shot at him. Cut it! Secret Service!" +and he cautiously flashed his badge in the light of the electric torch +which the park policeman held. + +"Huh!" grunted the guard, as he made his way to the bush from behind +which Carroll had been attacked. "You evidently winged him. There's +blood on the grass here, but no sign of the bird himself. Want any +report to headquarters?" he added, in an undertone. + +"Not a word," said Carroll. "I'm working this end of the game and I want +to finish it without assistance. It's the only thing that's happened in +a month to break the monotony and there's no use declaring anyone else +in on it. By the way, do you know of any place in town known as +Conner's?" + +"Conner's? Never heard of it. Sounds as though it might be a dive in the +Bowery. Plenty of queer places down there." + +"No, it's hardly likely to be in that section of the city," Dave stated. +"Farther uptown, I think. But it's a new one on me." + +"On me, too," agreed the guard, "and I thought I knew the town like a +book." + +When he reported to headquarters a few moments later, Carroll told the +chief over the wire of his brush with the trio of Germans, as well as +what he had heard. There was more than a quiver of excitement in the +voice from the other end of the wire, for this was the first actual +proof of the existence of the mysterious "No. 859." + +"Still believe von Ewald is a myth?" inquired the Chief. + +"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that," was the answer, "because +the bullet that just missed me was pretty material. Evidently some one +is planning these bomb outrages and it's up to us to nab him--if only +for the sake of the Service." + +"Did you catch the name of the man to whom your friends were alluding?" +asked the chief. + +"No, they just referred to him as 'he.'" + +"That might mean any one of a number of people," mused the chief. "Sir +Cecil Spring-Rice is in town, you know. Stopping at the Waldorf. Then +there's the head of the French Mission at the Vanderbilt with a bunch of +people, and Lord Wimbledon, who's spent five million dollars for horses +in the West, stopping at the same place you are. You might keep an eye +on him and I'll send Kramer and Fleming up to trail the other two." + +"Did you ever hear of the place they called Conner's, Chief?" + +"No, but that doesn't mean anything. It may be a code word--a +prearranged name to camouflage the hotel in the event anyone were +listening in." + +"Possibly," replied Carroll, just before he hung up, "but somehow I have +a hunch that it wasn't. I'll get back on the job and let you know if +anything further develops." + +His adventure for the night appeared to have ended, for he climbed into +bed the following morning without having been disturbed, but lay awake +for an hour or more--obsessed with the idea that he really held the clue +to the whole affair, but unable to figure out just what it was. + +Where was it that they intended to place the bomb? Why would they +arrange it so as to explode upon pressure, rather than concussion or by +a time fuse? Where was Conner's? Who was the man they were plotting +against? + +These were some of the questions which raced through his brain, and he +awoke in the late afternoon still haunted by the thought that he really +ought to know more than he did. + +That night at dinner he noted, almost subconsciously, that he was served +by a new waiter, a fact that rather annoyed him because he had been +particularly pleased at the service rendered by the other man. + +"Where's Felix?" he inquired, as the new attendant brought his soup. + +"He isn't on to-night, sir," was the reply. "He had an accident and +won't be here for a couple of days." + +"An accident?" + +"Yes, sir," was the laconic answer. + +"Anything serious?" + +"No, sir. He--he hurt his hand," and the waiter disappeared without +another word. Carroll thought nothing more of it at the time, but later, +over his coffee and a good cigar, a sudden idea struck him. Could it be +that Felix was one of the men whom he had surprised the night before, +the one he had fired at and hit? No, that was too much of a coincidence. +But then Felix was manifestly of foreign origin, and, while he claimed +to be Swiss, there was a distinct Teutonic rasp to his words upon +occasion. + +Signaling to his waiter, Dave inquired whether he knew where Felix +lived. "I'd like to know if there is anything that I can do for him," he +gave as his reason for asking. + +"I haven't the slightest idea," came the answer, and Carroll was aware +that the man was lying, for his demeanor was sullen rather than +subservient and the customary "sir" was noticeable by its absence. + +Once in the lobby, Dave noticed that the pretty telephone operator was +again at the switchboard, and the idea occurred to him that he might +find out Felix's address from the hotel manager or head waiter. + +"I understand that my waiter has been hurt in an accident," the +operative explained to the goddess of the wires, "and I'd like to find +out where he lives. Who would be likely to know?" + +"The head waiter ought to be able to tell you," was the reply, +accompanied by the flash of what Carroll swore to be the whitest teeth +he had ever seen. "Just a moment and I will get him on the wire for +you." Then, after a pause, "Booth Number Five, please." + +But Carroll got no satisfaction from that source, either. The head +waiter maintained that he knew nothing of Felix's whereabouts and hung +up the receiver in a manner which was distinctly final, not to say +impolite. The very air of mystery that surrounded the missing man was +sufficient to incline him to the belief that, after all, there might be +something to the idea that Felix was the man he had shot at the night +before. In that event, it was practically certain that Lord Wimbledon +was the object of the Germans' attention--but that didn't solve the +question of where the bomb was to be placed, nor the location of +"Conner's." + +"Just the same," he muttered, half aloud, "I'm going to stick around +here to-night." + +"Why that momentous decision?" came a voice almost at his elbow, a voice +which startled and charmed him with its inflection. + +Looking up, he caught the eyes of the pretty telephone girl, laughing at +him. + +"Talking to yourself is a bad habit," she warned him with a smile which +seemed to hold an apology for her brusqueness of the night before, +"particularly in your business." + +"My business?" echoed Dave. "What do you know about that?" + +"Not a thing in the world--except," and here her voice dropped to a +whisper--"except that you are a government detective and that you've +discovered something about Lord Wimbledon, probably some plot against +His Lordship." + +"Where--how--what in the world made you think that?" stammered Carroll, +almost gasping for breath. + +"Very simple," replied the girl. "Quite elementary, as Sherlock Holmes +used to say. You called the headquarters number every night when you +came down--the other girls tipped me off to that, for they know that I'm +fond of detective stories. Then everybody around here knows that Felix, +the waiter that you inquired about, is really German, though he pretends +to be Swiss, and that he, the head waiter, and the pastry cook are thick +as thieves." + +"You'd hardly expect me to say 'Yes,' would you? Particularly as I am +supposed to be a government operative." + +"Now I know you are," smiled the girl. "Very few people use the word +'operative.' They'd say 'detective' or 'agent.' But don't worry, I won't +give you away." + +"Please don't," laughed Carroll, half banteringly, half in earnest, for +it would never do to have it leak out that a girl had not only +discovered his identity, but his mission. Then, as an after-thought, "Do +you happen to know of any hotel or place here in town known as +'Conner's'?" he asked. + +"Why, of course," was the reply, amazing in its directness. "The +manager's name--" But then she halted abruptly, picked up a plug, and +said, "What number, please?" into the receiver. + +Carroll sensed that there was a reason for her stopping in the middle of +her sentence and, looking around, found the pussy-footed head waiter +beside him, apparently waiting for a call. Silently damning the custom +that made it obligatory for waiters to move without making a sound, +Carroll wandered off across the lobby, determined to take a stroll +around the block before settling down to his night's vigil. A stop at +the information desk, however, rewarded him with the news that Lord +Wimbledon was giving a dinner in his apartments the following evening to +the British ambassador--that being all the hotel knew officially about +his Grace's movements. + +"I'll take care to have half a dozen extra men on the job," Carroll +assured himself, "for that's undoubtedly the time they would pick if +they could get away with it. A single bomb then would do a pretty bit of +damage." + +The evening brought no further developments, but shortly after midnight +he determined to call the Rennoc, in the hope that the pretty telephone +girl was still on duty and that she might finish telling him what she +knew of Conner's. + +"Hotel Rennoc," came a voice which he recognized instantly. + +"This is Dave Carroll speaking," said the operative. "Can you tell me +now what it was you started to say about Conner's?" + +"Not now," came the whispered reply. Then, in a louder voice, "Just a +moment, please, and I'll see if he's registered." During the pause which +followed Dave realized that the girl must be aware that she was watched +by some one. Was it the silent-moving head waiter? + +"No, he hasn't arrived yet," was the next phrase that came over the +wires, clearly and distinctly, followed by instructions, couched in a +much lower tone, "Meet me, Drive entrance, one-five sure," and then a +click as the plug was withdrawn. + +It was precisely five minutes past one when Carroll paused in front of +the Riverside Drive doorway to the Rennoc, considering it the part of +discretion to keep on the opposite side of the driveway. A moment later +a woman, alone, left the hotel, glanced around quickly, and then crossed +to where he was standing. + +"Follow me up the street," she directed in an undertone as she passed. +"Michel has been watching like a hawk." + +Dave knew that Michel was the head waiter, and out of the corner of his +eye he saw a shadow slip out of another of the hotel doorways, farther +down the Drive, and start toward them. But when he looked around a +couple of blocks farther up the drive, there was no one behind them. + +"Why all the mystery?" he inquired, as he stepped alongside the girl. + +"Something's afoot in the Rennoc," she replied, "and they think I +suspect what it is and have told you about it. Michel hasn't taken his +eyes off me all evening. I heard him boast one night that he could read +lips, so I didn't dare tell you anything when you called up, even though +he was across the lobby. Conner's, the place you asked about, is the +Rennoc. Spell it backward. Conner is the manager--hence the name of the +hotel." + +"Then," said Carroll, "that means that they've got a plan under way to +bomb Lord Wimbledon and probably the British ambassador at that dinner +to-morrow evening. I overheard one of them say last night that a bomb, +arranged to explode at the slightest pressure, would be placed in the--" +and then he stopped. + +"In the cake!" gasped the girl, as if by intuition. But her next words +showed that her deduction had a more solid foundation. "This is to be a +birthday dinner, in honor of Lord Percy Somebody who's in Lord +Wimbledon's party, as well as in honor of Lord Cecil. The pastry cook, +who's almost certainly mixed up in the plot, has plenty of opportunity +to put the bomb there, where it would never be suspected. The instant +they cut the cake--" + +But her voice trailed off in midair as something solid came down on her +head with a crash. At the same moment Dave was sent reeling by a blow +from a blackjack, a blow which sent him spinning across the curb and +into the street. He was dimly aware that two men were leaping toward him +and that a third was attacking the telephone girl. + +Panting, gasping, fighting for time in which to clear his head of the +effects of the first blow, Carroll fought cautiously, but desperately, +realizing that his opponents desired to avoid gun-play for fear of +attracting the police. A straight left to the jaw caught one of the men +coming in and knocked him sprawling, but the second, whom Carroll +recognized as Michel, was more wary. He dodged and feinted with the +skill of a professional boxer, and then launched an uppercut which went +home on the point of Dave's jaw. + +It was at that moment that the operative became aware of another +participant in the fray--a figure in white with what appeared to be a +halo of gold around her head. The thought flashed through his mind that +he must be dreaming, but he had sense enough left to leap aside when a +feminine voice called "Look out!" and the arc light glinted off the +blade of a knife as it passed perilously close to his ribs. Then the +figure in white brought something down on Michel's head and, wheeling, +seized the wrist of the third man in a grip of iron. + +Ten seconds later the entire trio was helpless and Carroll was blowing a +police whistle for assistance. + +"There was really nothing to it at all," protested the telephone girl, +during the ride in the patrol. "They made the mistake of trying to let +Felix, with his wounded hand, take care of me. I didn't have two years +of gym work and a complete course in jiu jitsu for nothing, and that +blackjack came in mighty handy a moment or two later. All Felix +succeeded in doing was to knock my hat off, and I shed my coat the +instant I had attended to him." + +"That's why I thought you were a goddess in white," murmured Dave. + +"No goddess at all, just a girl from the switchboard who was glad to +have a chance at the brutes. Anyhow, that few minutes beats any book I +ever read for action!" + +Dave's hand stole out in the darkness as they jolted forward, and when +it found what it was seeking, "Girl," he said, "do you realize that I +don't even know your name?" + +"Lang," said a voice in the dark. "My friends call me Virginia." + +"After what you just did for me, I think we ought to be at least good +friends," laughed Carroll, and the thrill of the fight which has just +passed was as nothing when she answered: + +"At least that ... Dave!" + + * * * * * + +Quinn paused for a moment to repack his pipe and I took advantage of the +interruption to ask what happened at the Wimbledon dinner the following +night. + +"Not a thing in the world," replied Quinn. "Everything went off like +clockwork--everything but the bomb. As the Podunk _Gazette_ would say, +'A very pleasant time was had by all.' But you may be sure that they +were careful to examine the cake and the other dishes before they were +sampled by the guests. Michel, Felix, and the cook were treated to a +good dose of the third degree at headquarters, but without results. They +wouldn't even admit that they knew any such person as 'Number +Eight-fifty-nine' or von Ewald. Two of them got off with light sentences +for assault and battery. The pastry cook, however, went to the pen when +they found a quantity of high explosives in his room." + +"And Miss Lang?" + +"If you care to look up the marriage licenses for October, nineteen +sixteen, you'll find that one was issued in the names of David Carroll +and Virginia Lang. She's the wife of a captain now, for Dave left the +Service the following year and went to France to finish his fight with +the Hun. I saw him not long ago and the only thing that's worrying him +is where he is going to find his quota of excitement, for he says that +there is nothing left in the Service but chasing counterfeiters and +guarding the resident, and he can't stand the idea of staying in the +army and drawing his pay for wearing a uniform." + + + + +XI + +"LOST--$100,000!" + + +"I stopped on my way here to-night and laid in a supply of something +that I don't often use--chewing gum," said Bill Quinn, formerly of the +Secret Service, as he settled back comfortably to enjoy an evening's +chat. "There are some professional reformers who maintain that the great +American habit of silently working the jaws over a wad of chewing gum is +harmful in the extreme, but if you'll look into the matter you'll find +that agitators of that type want you to cut out all habits except those +which they are addicted to. + +"Personally, I'm not a habitual worshiper at the shrine of the great god +Goom, but there's no use denying the fact that it does soothe one's +nerves occasionally. Incidentally, it has other uses--as Elmer Allison +discovered not very long ago." + +"Yes?" I inquired, sensing the fact that Quinn had a story up his sleeve +and was only awaiting the opportunity to spring it. "Didn't you mention +a post-office case in which a wad of gum played a prominent role?" + +"That's the one," said the former government operative, easing his +wounded leg into a less cramped position. "Here, have a couple of sticks +just to get the proper atmosphere and I'll see if I can recall the +details." + + * * * * * + +For some reason that's hard to define [Quinn went on, after he had +peeled two of the dun-colored sticks and commenced work on them] crooks +in general and amateur crooks in particular seem to regard the United +States mails as particularly easy prey. Possibly they figure that, as +millions of dollars are handled by the Post-office Department every +year, a little here and there won't be missed. But if they knew the high +percentage of mail robberies that are solved they wouldn't be so keen to +tackle the game. + +Lifting valuables, once they have passed into the hands of Uncle Sam's +postman, is a comparatively easy crime to commit. There are dozens of +ways of doing it--methods which range all the way from fishing letters +out of a post-box with a piece of string and a hairpin, to holding up +the mail car in a deserted portion of a railroad track. But getting away +with it is, as our Yiddish friends say, something else again. + +The annals of the Postal Inspection Service are filled with incidents +which indicate that the High Cost of Living is down around zero compared +to the High Cost of Crime, when said crime is aimed at the mails. There +are scores of men in Atlanta, Leavenworth, and other Federal prisons +whose advice would be to try murder, forgery, or arson rather than +attempt to earn a dishonest living by stealing valuable letters. + +The majority of persons realize that it pays to register their money and +insure their packages because, once this precaution has been attended +to, the government exercises special care in the handling of these and +makes it extremely difficult for crooks to get anywhere near them. If a +registered letter disappears there is a clean-cut trail of signed +receipts to follow and somebody has to bear the burden of the loss. But +even with these precautions, the Registered Section is looted every now +and then. + +One of the biggest cases of this kind on record was that which occurred +in Columbus when letters with an aggregate value of one hundred thousand +dollars just vanished into thin air. Of course, they didn't all +disappear at one time, but that made it all the more mysterious--because +the thefts were spread out over a period of some five or six weeks and +they went on, just as regularly as clockwork, in spite of the +precautions to the contrary. + +The first of the losses, as I recall it, was a shipment of ten thousand +dollars in large bills sent by a Chicago bank to a financial concern in +Columbus. When working on that single case, of course, the officials of +the department were more or less in the dark as to the precise place +that the disappearance had taken place, in spite of the fact that there +were the usual signed slips indicating that the package had been +received at the Columbus Post Office. But clerks who are in a hurry +sometimes sign receipts without being any too careful to check up the +letters or packages to which they refer--a highly reprehensible +practice, but one which is the outgrowth of the shortage of help. It was +quite within the bounds of possibility, for example, for the package to +have been abstracted from the Chicago office without the loss being +discovered until Columbus checked up on the mail which was due there. + +But a week or ten days later came the second of the mysterious +disappearances--another envelope containing bills of large denomination, +this time en route from Pittsburgh to Columbus. When a third loss +occurred the following fortnight, the headquarters of the Postal +Inspection Service in Washington became distinctly excited and every man +who could be spared was turned loose in an effort to solve the problem. +Orders were given to shadow all the employees who had access to the +registered mail with a view to discovering whether they had made any +change in their personal habits, whether they had displayed an unusual +amount of money within the past month, or whether their family had shown +signs of exceptional prosperity. + +It was while the chief was waiting for these reports that Elmer Allison +blew into Washington unexpectedly and strolled into the room in the big +gray-stone tower of what was then the Post-office Department Building, +with the news that he had solved the "poison-pen case" in Kansas City +and was ready to tackle something else. + +The chief, to put it mildly, was surprised and inquired why in the name +of the seven hinges of Hades Allison hadn't made his report directly to +the office by mail. + +"That was a pretty important case, Chief," Elmer replied, "and I didn't +want to take any chances of the findings being lost in the registered +mail." Then, grinning, he continued, "Understand you've been having a +bit of trouble out in Columbus?" + +"Who told you about that?" growled the chief. + +"Oh, you can't keep things like that under your hat even if you do +succeed in keeping them out of the papers," retorted Allison. "A little +bird tipped me off to it three weeks ago and--" + +"And you determined to leap back here as soon as you could so that you +would be assigned to the case, eh?" + +"You guessed it, Chief. I wanted a try at the Columbus affair and I was +afraid I wouldn't get it unless I put the matter personally up to you. +How 'bout it?" + +"As it happens, you lost about two days of valuable time in coming here, +instead of wiring for further instructions from Kansas City," the chief +told him. "I had intended taking you off that anonymous letter case by +noon to-morrow, whether you'd finished it or not, for this is a far more +important detail. Somebody's gotten away with fifty thousand dollars so +far, and there's no--" + +"Pardon me, sir, but here's a wire which has just arrived from Rogers, +in Columbus. Thought you'd like to see it at once," and the chief's +secretary laid a yellow slip face upward on his desk. Allison, who was +watching closely, saw a demonstration of the reason why official +Washington maintained that the chief of the Postal Inspection Service +had the best "poker face" in the capital. Not a muscle in his +countenance changed as he read the telegram and then glanced up at +Allison, continuing his sentence precisely where he had been +interrupted: + +"Reason to suppose that the thief is going to stop there. This wire from +Rogers, the postmaster at Columbus, announces the loss of a fourth +package of bills. Fifty thousand this time. That's the biggest yet and +it brings the total deficit up to one hundred thousand dollars. Rogers +says that the banks are demanding instant action and threatening to take +the case to headquarters, which means that it'll spread all over the +papers. Congress will start an investigation, some of us will lose our +official heads, and, in the mix-up, the man who's responsible for the +losses will probably make a clean getaway." + +Then, with a glance at the clock which faced his desk, "There's a train +for Columbus in twenty minutes, Allison. Can you make it?" + +"It's less than ten minutes to the station," replied the operative. +"That gives me plenty of leeway." + +"Well, move and move fast," snapped the chief. "I'll wire Columbus that +you've been given complete charge of the case; but try to keep it away +from the papers as long as you can. The department has come in for +enough criticism lately without complicating the issue from the +outside. Good luck." And Allison was out of the door almost before he +had finished speaking. + +Allison reached Columbus that night, but purposely delayed reporting for +work until the following morning. In the first place there was no +telling how long the case would run and he felt that it was the part of +wisdom to get all the rest he could in order to start fresh. The +"poison-pen" puzzle hadn't been exactly easy to solve, and his visit to +Washington, though brief, had been sufficiently long for him to absorb +some of the nervous excitement which permeated the department. Then, +too, he figured that Postmaster Rogers would be worn out by another day +of worry and that both of them would be the better for a night's +undisturbed sleep. + +Nine o'clock the next morning, however, saw him seated in one of the +comfortable chairs which adorned the postmaster's private office. +Rogers, who did not put in an appearance until ten, showed plainly the +results of the strain under which he was laboring, for he was a +political appointee who had been in office only a comparatively short +time, a man whose temperament resented the attacks launched by the +opposition and who felt that publication of the facts connected with the +lost one hundred thousand dollars would spell ruin, both to his own +hopes and those of the local organization. + +Allison found that the chief had wired an announcement of his coming the +day before and that Rogers was almost pitifully relieved to know that +the case was in the hands of the man who had solved nearly a score of +the problems which had arisen in the Service during the past few years. + +"How much do you know about the case?" inquired the postmaster. + +"Only what I learned indirectly and from what the chief told me," was +Allison's reply. "I understand that approximately one hundred thousand +dollars is missing from this post office" (here Rogers instinctively +winced as he thought of the criticism which this announcement would +cause if it were made outside the office), "but I haven't any of the +details." + +"Neither have we, unfortunately," was the answer. "If we had had a few +more we might have been able to prevent the last theft. You know about +that, of course." + +"The fifty thousand dollars? Yes. The chief told me that you had wired." + +"Well, that incident is typical of the other three. Banks in various +parts of the country have been sending rather large sums of money +through the mails to their correspondents here. There's nothing unusual +in that at this time of the year. But within the past five or six weeks +there have been four packages--or, rather, large envelopes--of money +which have failed to be accounted for. They ranged all the way from ten +thousand dollars, the first loss, to the fifty thousand dollars which +disappeared within the past few days. I purposely delayed wiring +Washington until we could make a thorough search of the whole place, +going over the registry room with a fine-tooth comb--" + +"Thus warning every man in it that he was under suspicion," muttered +Allison. + +"What was that?" Rogers inquired. + +"Nothing--nothing at all. Just talking to myself. Far from a good habit, +but don't mind it. I've got some queer ones. You didn't find anything, +of course?" + +"In the building? No, not a thing. But I thought it best to make a +thorough clean-up here before I bothered Washington with a report." + +"What about the men who've been working on the case up to this time?" + +"Not one of them has been able to turn up anything that could be +dignified by the term clue, as I believe you detectives call it." + +"Yes, that's the right word," agreed the operative. "At least all +members of the Detective-Story-Writers' Union employ it frequently +enough to make it fit the case. What lines have Boyd and the other men +here been following?" + +"At my suggestion they made a careful examination into the private lives +of all employees of the post-office, including myself," Rogers answered, +a bit pompously. "I did not intend to evade the slightest responsibility +in the matter, so I turned over my bankbook, the key to my safe-deposit +vault and even allowed them to search my house from cellar to garret." + +"Was this procedure followed with respect to all the other employees in +the building?" + +"No, only one or two of the highest--personal friends of mine whom I +could trust to keep silent. I didn't care to swear out search warrants +for the residences of all the people who work here, and that's what it +would have meant if they had raised any objection. In their cases the +investigation was confined to inquiries concerning their expenditures in +the neighborhood, unexpected prosperity, and the like." + +"With what result?" + +"None at all. From all appearances there isn't a soul in this building +who has had ten cents more during the past six weeks than he possessed +in any like period for two years back." + +"Did Boyd or any of the other department operatives ask to see the plans +of the post office?" inquired Allison, taking another tack. + +"The what?" + +"The plans of the post-office--the blue print prepared at the time that +the building was erected." + +"No. Why should they?" + +"I thought they might have been interested in it, that's all," was +Allison's answer, but anyone who knew him would have noted that his tone +was just a trifle too nonchalant to be entirely truthful. + +"By the way," added the operative, "might I see it?" + +"The blue print?" + +"Yes. You will probably find it in the safe. If you'll have some one +look it up, I'll be back in half an hour to examine it," said Allison. +"Meanwhile, I'll talk to Boyd and the other men already on the ground +and see if I can dig anything out of what they've discovered." + +But Boyd and his associates were just as relieved as Rogers had been to +find that the case had been placed in Allison's hands. Four weeks and +more of steady work had left them precisely where they had +commenced--"several miles back of that point," as one of them admitted, +"for three more stunts have been pulled off right under our eyes." The +personal as well as the official record of every man and woman in the +Columbus post office had been gone over with a microscope, without the +slightest result. If the germ of dishonesty was present, it was +certainly well hidden. + +"We'll try another and more powerful lens," Allison stated, as he turned +back to the postmaster's private office. "By the way, Boyd, have you or +any of your men been in the Service more than four years?" + +"No, I don't think any of us has. What has that got to do with it?" + +"Not a thing in the world, as far as your ability is concerned, but +there is one point that every one of you overlooked--because you never +heard of it. I'm going to try it out myself now and I'll let you know +what develops." + +With that Allison turned and sauntered back into Rogers's office. + +There, spread upon the desk, was the missing blue print, creased and +dusty from disuse. + +"First time you ever saw this, eh?" Allison inquired of the postmaster. + +"The first time I even knew it was there," admitted that official. +"How'd you know where to find it?" + +"I didn't--but there's an ironclad rule of the department that plans of +this nature are to be kept under lock and key for just such emergencies +as this. But I guess your predecessor was too busy to worry you with +details." + +Rogers grunted. It was an open secret that the postmaster who had +preceded him had not been any too friendly to his successor. + +Allison did not pursue the subject but spread the plan upon an +unoccupied table so that he could examine it with care. + +"If you'll be good enough to lock that door, Postmaster," he directed, +"I'll show you something else about your building that you didn't know. +But I don't want anybody else coming in while we're discussing it." + +Puzzled, but feeling that the government detective ought to be allowed +to handle things in his own way, Rogers turned the key in the lock and +came over to the table where Allison stood. + +"Do you see that little square marked with a white star and the letter +'L'?" asked Elmer. + +"Yes, what is it?" + +"What is this large room next to it?" countered the operative. + +"That's the--why, that's the registry room!" + +"Precisely. And concealed in the wall in a spot known only to persons +familiar with this blue print, is a tiny closet, or 'lookout.' That's +what the 'L' means and that's the reason that there's a strict rule +about guarding plans of this nature very carefully." + +"You mean to say that a place has been provided for supervision of the +registry division--a room from which the clerks can be watched without +their knowledge?" + +"Exactly--and such a precaution has been taken in practically every post +office of any size in the country. Only the older men in the Service +know about it, which is the reason that neither Boyd nor any of his men +asked to see this set of plans. The next step is to find the key to the +lookout and start in on a very monotonous spell of watchful waiting. You +have the bunch of master keys, of course?" + +"Yes, they're in the safe where the plans were kept. Just a moment and +I'll get them." + +When Rogers produced the collection of keys, Allison ran hurriedly over +them and selected one which bore, on the handle, a small six-pointed +star corresponding to the mark on the blue print. + +"Want to go up with me and investigate the secret chamber?" he inquired. + +"I certainly do," agreed Rogers. "But there's one point where this room +won't help us in the slightest. How did the thief get the mail +containing the money out of the building? You know the system that +maintains in the registry room? It's practically impossible for a sheet +of paper to be taken out of there, particularly when we are on guard, as +we are now." + +"That's true," Allison admitted, "but it's been my experience that +problems which appear the most puzzling are, after all, the simplest of +explanation. You remember the Philadelphia mint robbery--the one that +Drummond solved in less than six hours? This may prove to be just as +easy." + +There Allison was wrong, dead wrong--as he had to admit some ten days +later, when, worn with the strain of sitting for hours at a time with +his eyes glued to the ventilator which masked the opening to the +lookout, he finally came to the conclusion that something would have to +be done to speed things up. It was true that no new robberies had +occurred in the meantime, but neither had any of the old ones been +punished. The lost one hundred thousand dollars was still lost; though +the department, with the aid of the Treasury officials, had seen that +the banks were reimbursed. + +"The decoy letter," thought Allison, "is probably the oldest dodge in +the world. But, who knows, it may work again in this case--provided we +stage-manage it sufficiently carefully." + +With the assistance of the cashier of one of the local banks Elmer +arranged to have a dummy package of money forwarded by mail from New +York. It was supposed to contain thirty-five thousand dollars in cash, +and all the formalities were complied with precisely as if thirty-five +thousand-dollar bills were really inside the envelope, instead of as +many sheets of blank paper carefully arranged. + +On the morning of the day the envelope was due to reach Columbus, +Allison took up his position close to the grille in the lookout, his +eyes strained to catch the slightest suspicious movement below. Hour +after hour passed uneventfully until, almost immediately below him, he +saw a man drop something on the floor. Two envelopes had slipped from +his hands and he stooped to pick them up--that was all. + +But what carried a thrill to the operative in the lookout was the fact +that one of the envelopes was the dummy sent from New York and that, +when the man straightened up, he had only _one_ of the two in his hands. +The dummy had disappeared! + +Allison rubbed his eyes and looked again. No, he was right. The postal +clerk had, in some manner, disposed of the envelope supposed to contain +thirty-five thousand dollars and he was going about his work in +precisely the same way as before. + +"Wait a minute," Allison argued to himself. "There's something missing +besides the envelope! What is it?" + +A moment later he had the clue to the whole affair--the jaws of the +clerk, which Allison had previously and subconsciously noted were always +hard at work on a wad of gum, now were at rest for the first time since +the operative had entered the lookout! The chewing gum and the dummy +packet had disappeared at the same time! + +It didn't take Elmer more than thirty seconds to reach Rogers's office, +and he entered with the startling announcement that "an envelope +containing thirty-five thousand dollars had just disappeared from the +registry room." + +"What?" demanded the postmaster. "How do you know? I haven't received +any report of it." + +"No, and you probably wouldn't for some time," Elmer retorted. "But it +happens that I saw it disappear." + +"Then you know where it is?" + +"I can lay my hands on it--and probably the rest of the missing +money--inside of one minute. Let's pay a visit to the registry room." + +Before entering the section, however, Allison took the precaution of +posting men at both of the doors. + +"After I'm inside," he directed, "don't allow anyone to leave on any +pretext whatever. And stand ready for trouble in case it develops. Come +on, Mr. Rogers." + +Once in the room devoted to the handling of registered mail, Allison +made directly for the desk under the lookout. The occupant regarded +their approach with interest but, apparently, without a trace of +anxiety. + +"I'd like to have that letter supposed to contain thirty-five thousand +dollars which you dropped on the floor a few moments ago," Elmer +remarked in a quiet, almost conversational tone. + +Except for a sudden start, the clerk appeared the picture of innocence. + +"What letter?" he parried. + +"You know what one!" snapped Allison, dropping his suave manner and +moving his hand significantly toward his coat pocket. "Will you produce +it--or shall I?" + +"I--I don't know what you are talking about," stammered the clerk. + +"No? Well, I'll show you!" and the operative's hands flashed forward and +there was a slight click as a pair of handcuffs snapped into place. +"Now, Mr. Rogers, you'll be good enough to watch me carefully, as your +evidence will probably be needed in court. I'll show you as simple and +clever a scheme as I've ever run across." + +With that Allison dropped to the floor, wormed his way under the +table-desk, tugged at something for a moment and then rose, holding five +large envelopes in his hands! + +"There's your lost one hundred thousand dollars," he explained, "and a +dummy packet of thirty-five thousand dollars to boot. Thought you could +get away with it indefinitely, eh?" he inquired of the handcuffed clerk. +"If you'd stopped with the one hundred thousand dollars, as you'd +probably intended to do, you might have. But that extra letter turned +the trick. Too bad it contained only blank paper"--and he ripped the +envelope open to prove his assertion. + +"But--but--I don't understand," faltered Rogers. "How did this man work +it right under our eyes?" + +"He didn't," declared Allison. "He tried to work it right under mine, +but he couldn't get away with it. The plan was simplicity itself. He'd +slip an envelope which he knew contained a large sum of money out of the +pile as it passed him--he hadn't signed for them, so he wasn't taking +any special risk--drop it on the floor, stoop over, and, if he wasn't +being watched, attach it to the _bottom_ of his desk with a wad of +chewing gum. You boasted that you went over the room with a fine-tooth +comb, but who would think of looking on the under side of this table. +The idea, of course, was that he'd wait for the storm to blow +over--because the letters could remain in their hiding places for +months, if necessary--and then start on a lifelong vacation with his +spoils as capital. But he made the error of overcapitalization and I +very much fear that he'll put in at least ten years at Leavenworth or +Morgantown. But I'd like to bet he never chews another piece of gum!" + + * * * * * + +"That," continued Quinn, as he tossed another pink wrapper into the +wastebasket, "I consider the simplest and cleverest scheme to beat the +government that I ever heard of--better even than Cochrane's plan in +connection with the robbery of the Philadelphia mint, because it didn't +necessitate any outside preparation at all. The right job, a piece of +gum, and there you are. But you may be sure that whenever an important +letter disappears nowadays, one of the first places searched by the +Postal Inspection operatives is the lower side of the desks and tables. +You can't get away with a trick twice in the same place." + + + + +XII + +"THE DOUBLE CODE" + + +It was one night in early fall that Bill Quinn and I were browsing +around the library in the house that he had called "home" ever since a +counterfeiter's bullet incapacitated him from further active work in the +Secret Service. Prior to that time he had lived, as he put it, "wherever +he hung his hat," but now there was a comfortable little house with a +den where Quinn kept the more unusual, and often gruesome, relics which +brought back memories of the past. + +There, hanging on the wall with a dark-brown stain still adorning the +razorlike edge, was a Chinese hatchet which had doubtless figured in +some tong war on the Coast. Below was an ordinary twenty-five-cent +piece, attached to the wall paper with chewing gum--"just as it once +aided in robbing the Treasury of nearly a million dollars," Quinn +assured me. In another part of the room was a frame containing what +appeared to be a bit torn from the wrapping of a package, with the +canceled stamp and a half-obliterated postmark as the only clues to the +murder of the man who had received it, and, beside the bookcases, which +contained a wide range of detective literature, hung a larger frame in +which were the finger prints of more than a score of criminals, men +bearing names practically unknown to the public, but whose exploits were +bywords in the various governmental detective services. + +It was while glancing over the contents of the bookcase that I noted one +volume which appeared strangely out of place in this collection of the +fictional romances of crime. + +"What's this doing here?" I inquired, taking down a volume of _The Giant +Raft_, by Jules Verne. "Verne didn't write detective stories, did he?" + +"No," replied Quinn, "and it's really out of place in the bookcase. If +possible, I'd like to have it framed and put on the wall with the rest +of the relics--for it's really more important than any of them, from the +standpoint of value to the nation. That quarter on the wall over +there--the one which figured in the Sugar Fraud case--cost the +government in the neighborhood of a million dollars, but this book +probably saved a score of millions and hundreds of lives as well. If it +hadn't been for the fact that Thurber of the Navy Department knew his +Jules Vernes even better than he did his Bible, it's quite possible +that-- + +"Well, there's no use telling the end of the story before the beginning. +Make yourself comfortable and I'll see if I can recall the details of +the case." + + * * * * * + +Remember Dr. Heinrich Albert? [Quinn inquired, after we had both +stretched out in front of the open fire]. Theoretically, the Herr Doktor +was attached to the German embassy in Washington merely in an advisory +and financial capacity. He and Haniel von Heimhausen--the same counselor +that the present German government wanted to send over here as +ambassador after the signing of the peace treaty--were charged with the +solution of many of the legal difficulties which arose in connection +with the business of the big red brick dwelling on Massachusetts Avenue. +But while von Heimhausen was occupied with the legal end of the game, +Doctor Albert attended to many of the underground details which went +unsuspected for many years. + +It was he, for example, who managed the bidding for the wireless station +in the Philippines--the plan which permitted the German government to +dictate the location of the station and to see to it that the towers +were so placed where they would be most useful to Berlin. He undoubtedly +worked with von Papen and Boy-Ed during the early years of the +war--years in which this precious trio, either with or without the +knowledge of Count von Bernstorff, sought by every means to cripple +American shipping, violate American neutrality, and make a laughingstock +of American diplomatic methods. What's more, they got away with it for +months, not because the Secret Service and the Department of Justice +weren't hot on their trail, but because the Germans were too cagy to be +caught and you can't arrest a diplomat just on suspicion. + +During the months which followed the first of August, nineteen fourteen, +practically every one of the government's detective services was called +upon in some way to pry into the affairs of the embassy staff. But the +brunt of the work naturally devolved upon the two organizations directly +concerned with preventing flagrant breaches of neutrality--the Secret +Service and the Department of Justice. + +Every time that Doctor Albert, or any other official of the German +government, left Washington he was trailed by anywhere from one to five +men. Every move he made was noted and reported to headquarters, with the +result that the State Department had a very good idea of the names of +the men who were being used to forward Germany's ends, even though it +knew comparatively little about what was actually planned. The attachés +were entirely too clever to carry on compromising conversations in the +open, and their appointments were made in such a manner as effectually +to prevent the planting of a dictaphone or any other device by which +they might be overheard. + +The directions to the men who were responsible for the working of the +two Services were: + + Every attaché of the German embassy is to be guarded with + extreme care, day and night. Reports are to be made through + the usual channels and, in the event that something unusual + is observed, Divisional Headquarters is to be notified + instantly, the information being transmitted to Washington + before any final action is taken. + +This last clause, of course, was inserted to prevent some hot-headed +operative from going off half-cocked and thus spoiling the State +Department's plans. As long as Albert and his associates were merely +"guarded" they couldn't enter any formal complaint. But, given half a +chance, they would have gotten on their official dignity and demanded +that the espionage cease. + +From the State Department's point of view it was an excellent rule, but +Gene Barlow and the other Service men assigned to follow Albert couldn't +see it in that light. + +"What's the idea, anyhow?" Gene growled one night as his pet taxicab +dashed down Massachusetts Avenue in the wake of the big touring car that +was carrying the German attaché to the Union Station. "Here we have to +be on the job at all hours, just to watch this Dutchman and see what he +does. And," with a note of contempt, "he never does anything worth +reporting. Sees half a dozen people, lunches at the German-American +Club, drops in at two or three offices downtown, and then back here +again. If they'd only let us waylay him and get hold of that black bag +that he always carts around there'd be nothing to it. Some day I'm +going to do that little thing, just to see what happens." + +But Barlow took it out in threats. Secret Service men find pleasure in +stating what they are going to do "some day"--but the quality of +implicit obedience has been drilled into them too thoroughly for them to +forget it, which is possibly the reason why they take such a sheer and +genuine delight in going ahead when the restrictions are finally lifted. + +It was in New York, more than two years after the war had commenced, +that Barlow got his first opportunity to "see what would happen." In the +meantime, he had been assigned to half a dozen other cases, but always +returned to the shadowing of Doctor Albert because he was the one man +who had been eminently successful in that work. The German had an almost +uncanny habit of throwing his pursuers off the trail whenever he wanted +to and in spite of the efforts of the cleverest men in the Service had +disappeared from time to time. The resumption of unrestricted submarine +warfare and the delicacy of the diplomatic situation which ensued made +it imperative that the "man with the saber scar," as Doctor Albert was +known, be kept constantly under surveillance. + +"Stick to him, Gene, and don't bother about reporting until you are +certain that he will stay put long enough for you to phone," were the +instructions that Barlow received. "The doctor must be watched every +moment that he's away from the Embassy and it's up to you to do it." + +"Anything else beside watching him?" inquired the operative, hopefully. + +"No," smiled the chief, "there isn't to be any rough stuff. We're on the +verge of an explosion as it is, and anyone who pulls the hair trigger +will not only find himself out of a job, but will have the doubtful +satisfaction of knowing that he's responsible for wrecking some very +carefully laid plans. Where Albert goes, who he talks with and, if +possible, a few details of what they discuss, is all that's wanted." + +"Wouldn't like to have a piece of the Kaiser's mustache or anything of +that kind, would you, Chief?" Barlow retorted. "I could get that for you +a whole lot easier than I could find out what the man with the saber +scar talks about. He's the original George B. Careful. Never was known +to take a chance. Wouldn't bet a nickel against a hundred dollars that +the sun would come up to-morrow and always sees to it that his +conferences are held behind bolted doors. They even pull down the shades +so that no lip reader with a pair of field glasses can get a tip as to +what they're talking about." + +"That's the reason you were picked for this case," was the chief's +reply. "Any strong-arm man could whale Albert over the head and throw +him in the river. That wouldn't help any. What we need is information +concerning what his plans are, and it takes a clever man to get that." + +"All bull and a yard wide!" laughed Gene, but the compliment pleased +him, nevertheless. "I'll watch him, but let me know when the lid comes +off and I can use other methods." + +The chief promised that he would--and it was not more than three weeks +later that he had an opportunity to make good. + +"Barlow," he directed, speaking over the long-distance phone to the +operative in New York, "the Department of Justice has just reported that +Doctor Albert is in receipt of a document of some kind--probably a +letter of instruction from Berlin--which it is vital that we have at +once. Our information is that the message is written on a slip of oiled +paper carried inside a dummy lead pencil. It's possible that the doctor +has destroyed it, but it isn't probable. Can you get it?" + +"How far am I allowed to go?" inquired Gene, hoping for permission to +stage a kidnaping of the German attaché, but fully expecting these +instructions which followed--orders that he was to do nothing that would +cause an open breach, nothing for which Doctor Albert could demand +reparation or even an apology. + +"In other words," Barlow said to himself, as he hung up the phone, "I'm +to accomplish the impossible, blindfolded and with my hands tied. Wonder +whether Paula would have a hunch--" + +Paula was Barlow's sweetheart, a pretty little brunette who earned a +very good salary as private secretary to one of the leading lights of +Wall Street--which accounted for the fact that the operative had learned +to rely upon her quick flashes of intuitive judgment for help in a +number of situations which had required tact as well as action. They +were to be married whenever Gene's professional activities subsided +sufficiently to allow him to remain home at least one night a month, +but, meanwhile, Paula maintained that she would as soon be the wife of +an African explorer--"Because at least I would know that he wouldn't be +back for six months, while I haven't any idea whether you'll be out of +town two days or two years." + +After they had talked the Albert matter over from all angles, Paula +inquired, "Where would your friend with the saber scar be likely to +carry the paper?" + +"Either in his pocket or in the black bag that he invariably has with +him." + +"Hum!" she mused, "if it's in his pocket I don't see that there is +anything you can do, short of knocking him down and taking it away from +him, and that's barred by the rules of the game. But if it is in the +mysterious black bag.... Is the doctor in town now?" + +"Yes, he's at the Astor, probably for two or three days. I left Dwyer +and French on guard there while I, presumably, snatched a little sleep. +But I'd rather have your advice than any amount of rest." + +"Thanks," was the girl's only comment, for her mind was busy with the +problem. "There's apparently no time to lose, so I'll inform the office +the first thing in the morning that I won't be down, meet you in front +of the Astor, and we'll see what happens. Just let me stick with you, +inconspicuously, and I think that I can guarantee at least an +opportunity to lift the bag without giving the German a chance to raise +a row." + +Thus it was that, early the next day, Gene Barlow was joined by a +distinctly personable young woman who, after a moment's conversation, +strolled up and down Broadway in front of the hotel. + +Some twenty minutes later a man whose face had been disfigured by a +saber slash received at Heidelberg came down the steps and asked for a +taxi. But Barlow, acting under directions from Paula, had seen that +there were no taxis to be had. A flash of his badge and some coin of the +realm had fixed that. So Dr. Heinrich Albert, of the German embassy, was +forced to take a plebeian surface car--as Paula had intended that he +should. The Secret Service operative and his pretty companion boarded +the same car a block farther down, two other government agents having +held it sufficiently long at Forty-fourth Street to permit of this move. + +Worming their way through the crowd when their prey changed to the Sixth +Avenue Elevated, Gene and Paula soon reached points of vantage on either +side of the German, who carried his black bag tightly grasped in his +right hand, and the trio kept this formation until they reached Fiftieth +Street, when the girl apparently started to make her way toward the +door. Something caused her to stumble, however, and she pitched forward +right into the arms of the German, who by that time had secured a seat +and had placed his bag beside him, still guarding it with a protecting +arm. + +Before the foreigner had time to gather his wits, he found himself with +a pretty girl literally in his lap--a girl who was manifestly a lady and +who blushed to the tips of her ears as she apologized for her +awkwardness. Even if the German had been a woman-hater there would have +been nothing for him to do but to assist her to her feet, and that, +necessarily, required the use of both hands. As it happened, Doctor +Albert was distinctly susceptible to feminine charms, and there was +something about this girl's smile which was friendly, though +embarrassed. + +So he spent longer than was strictly essential in helping her to the +door--she appeared to have turned her ankle--and then returned to his +seat only to find that his portfolio was missing! + +Recriminations and threats were useless. A score of people had left the +car and, as the guard heartlessly refused to stop the train before the +next station, there was naturally not a trace of the girl or the man who +had accompanied her. By that time, in fact, Barlow and Paula had slipped +into the shelter of a neighboring hotel lobby and were busy inspecting +the contents of Doctor Albert's precious brief case. + +"Even if there's nothing in it," laughed the girl, "we've had the +satisfaction of scaring him to death." + +Gene said nothing, but pawed through the papers in frantic haste. + +"A slip of oiled paper," he muttered. "By the Lord Harry! here it is!" +and he produced a pencil which his trained fingers told him was lighter +than it should be. With a wrench he broke off the metal tip that held +the eraser, and from within the wooden spindle removed a tightly wrapped +roll of very thin, almost transparent paper, covered with unintelligible +lettering. + +"What's on it?" demanded Paula. + +"I'll never tell you," was Barlow's reply. "It would take a better man +than I am to decipher this," and he read off: + + "I i i t f b b t t x o...." + +"Code?" interrupted the girl. + +"Sure it is--and apparently a peach." The next moment he had slipped the +paper carefully into an inside pocket, crammed the rest of the papers +back into the brief case, and was disappearing into a phone booth. + +"Better get down to work, dear," he called over his shoulder. "I'm going +to report to the office here and then take this stuff down to +Washington!" And that was the last that Paula saw of him for a week. + +Six hours later Barlow entered the chief's office in the Treasury +Department and reported that he had secured the code message. + +"So New York phoned," was the only comment from the man who directed the +destinies of the Secret Service. "Take it right up to the Navy +Department and turn it over to Thurber, the librarian. He'll be able to +read it, if anybody can." + +Thurber, Gene knew, was the man who was recognizedly the leading +authority on military codes and ciphers in the United States, the man +who had made a hobby as well as a business of decoding mysterious +messages and who had finally deciphered the famous "square letter" code, +though it took him months to do it. + +"He'll have to work faster than that this time," thought Barlow, as he +made his way toward the librarian's office on the fourth floor of the +big gray-stone building. "Time's at a premium and Germany moves too fast +to waste any of it." + +But Thurber was fully cognizant of the necessity for quick action. He +had been warned that Barlow was bringing the dispatch and the entire +office was cleared for work. + +Spreading the oiled paper on a table top made of clear glass, the +Librarian turned on a battery of strong electric lights underneath so +that any watermark or secret writing would have been at once apparent. +But there was nothing on the sheet except line after line of meaningless +letters. + +"It's possible, of course, that there may be some writing in invisible +ink on the sheet," admitted the cipher expert. "But the fact that oiled +paper is used would seem to preclude that. The code itself may be any +one of several varieties and it's a matter of trying 'em all until you +hit upon the right one." + +"I thought that Poe's story of 'The Gold Bug' claimed that any cipher +could be read if you selected the letter that appeared most frequently +and substituted for it the letter 'e,' which is used most often in +English, and so on down the list," stated Barlow. + +"So it did. But there are lots of things that Poe didn't know about +codes." Thurber retorted, his eyes riveted to the sheet before him. +"Besides, that was fiction and the author knew just how the code was +constructed, while this is fact and we have to depend upon hard work and +blind luck. + +"There are any number of arbitrary systems which might have been used in +writing this message," he continued. "The army clock code is one of +them--the one in which a number is added to every letter figure, +dependent upon the hour at which the message is written. But I don't +think that applies in this case. The cipher doesn't look like it--though +I'll have to admit that it doesn't look like any that I've come across +before. Let's put it on the blackboard and study it from across the +room. That often helps in concentrating." + +"You're not going to write the whole thing on the board?" queried the +operative. + +"No, only the first fifteen letters or so," and Thurber put down this +line: + + I i i t f b b t t x o r q w s b b + +"Translated into what we call 'letter figures,'" he went on, "that would +be 9 9 9 20 6 2 2 20 20 24 15 18 17 23 19 2 2--the system where 'a' is +denoted by 1, 'b' by 2, and so on. No, that's still meaningless. That +repetition of the letter 'i' at the beginning of the message is what +makes it particularly puzzling. + +"If you don't mind, I'll lock the door and get to work on this in +earnest. Where can I reach you by phone?" + +Barlow smiled at this polite dismissal and, stating that he would be at +headquarters for the rest of the evening and that they would know where +to reach him after that, left the office--decidedly doubtful as to +Thurber's ability to read the message. + +Long after midnight Gene answered a ring from the phone beside his bed +and through a haze of sleep heard the voice of the navy librarian +inquiring if he still had the other papers which had been in Doctor +Albert's bag. + +"No," replied the operative, "but I can get them. They are on top of the +chief's desk. Nothing in them, though. Went over them with a +microscope." + +"Just the same," directed Thurber, "I'd like to have them right away. I +think I'm on the trail, but the message is impossible to decipher unless +we get the code word. It may be in some of the other papers." + +Barlow found the librarian red-eyed from his lack of sleep and the +strain of the concentration over the code letter. But when they had gone +over the papers found in the black bag, even Thurber had to admit that +he was checkmated. + +"Somewhere," he maintained, "is the one word which will solve the whole +thing. I know the type of cipher. It's one that is very seldom used; in +fact, the only reference to it that I know of is in Jules Verne's novel +_The Giant Raft_. It's a question of taking a key word, using the letter +figures which denote this, and adding these to the letter figures of the +original letter. That will give you a series of numbers which it is +impossible to decipher unless you know the key word. I feel certain that +this is a variation of that system, for the fact that two letters appear +together so frequently would seem to indicate that the numbers which +they represent are higher than twenty-six, the number of the letters in +the alphabet." + +"One word!" muttered Barlow. Then, seizing what was apparently a +memorandum sheet from the pile of Albert's papers, he exclaimed: "Here's +a list that neither the chief nor I could make anything of. See? It has +twelve numbers, which might be the months of the year, with a name or +word behind each one!" + +"Yes," replied Thurber, disconsolately, "I saw that the first thing. But +this is October and the word corresponding to the number ten is +'Wilhelmstrasse'--and that doesn't help at all. I tried it." + +"Then try 'Hohenzollern,' the September word!" snapped Barlow. "This +message was presumably written in Berlin and therefore took some time to +get over here." + +"By George! that's so! A variation of the 'clock code' as well as +Verne's idea. Here, read off the letters and I'll put them on the board +with the figures representing Hohenzollern underneath. Take the first +fifteen as before." + +When they had finished, the blackboard bore the following, the first +line being the original code letters, the second the letter figures of +these, and the third the figures of the word "Hohenzollern" with the +first "h" repeated for the fifteenth letter: + + I i i t f b b t t x o r q w s b b + + I ii t f bb tt x o r q w s bb + 9 35 20 6 28 46 24 15 18 17 23 19 28 + 8 15 8 5 14 26 15 12 12 5 18 14 8 + +"Why thirty-five for that double 'i' and twenty-eight for the double +'b's'?" asked Barlow. + +"Add twenty-six--the total number of letters in the alphabet--to the +letter figure for the letter itself," said Thurber. "That's the one +beauty of this code, one of the things which helps to throw you off the +scent. Now subtracting the two lines we have: + + "1 20 12 1 14 20 9 3 6 12 5 5 20 + +"We've got it!" he cried an instant later, as he stepped back to look at +the figures and read off: + + "A t l a n t i c f l e e t + +"It was a double code, after all," Thurber stated when he had deciphered +the entire message by the same procedure and had reported his discovery +to the Secretary of the Navy over the phone. "Practically infallible, +too, save for the fact that I, as well as Doctor Albert, happened to be +familiar with Jules Verne. That, plus the doctor's inability to rely on +his memory and therefore leaving his key words in his brief case, +rendered the whole thing pretty easy." + +"Yes," thought Gene, "plus my suggestion of the September word, rather +than the October one, and plus Paula's quick wit--that's really all +there was to it!" But he kept his thoughts to himself, preferring to +allow Thurber to reap all the rewards that were coming to him for the +solution of the "double code." + + * * * * * + +"Do you know what the whole message was?" I inquired, as Quinn stopped +his narrative. + +"You'll find it pasted on the back of that copy of _The Giant Raft_," +replied the former operative. "That's why I claim that the book ought to +be preserved as a souvenir of an incident that saved millions of dollars +and hundreds of lives." + +Turning to the back of the Verne book I saw pasted there the following +significant lines: + + Atlantic Fleet sails (from) Hampton Roads (at) six (o'clock) + morning of seventeenth. Eight U-boats will be waiting. Advise + necessary parties and be ready (to) seek safety. Success (of) + attack inevitable. + +"That means that if Thurber hadn't been able to decipher that code the +greater part of our fleet would have been sunk by an unexpected +submarine attack, launched by a nation with whom we weren't even at +war?" I demanded, when I had finished the message. + +"Precisely," agreed Quinn. "But if you'll look up the records you'll +find that the fleet did not sail on schedule, while Dr. Heinrich Albert +and the entire staff from the house on Massachusetts Avenue were +deported before many more weeks had passed. There was no sense in +raising a fuss about the incident at the time, for von Bernstorff would +have denied any knowledge of the message and probably would have charged +that the whole thing was a plant, designed to embroil the United States +in the war. So it was allowed to rest for the time being and merely +jotted down as another score to be wiped off the slate later on. + +"But you have to admit that a knowledge of Jules Verne came in very +handy--quite as much so, in fact, as did a knowledge of the habits and +disposition of white mice in another case." + +"Which one was that?" + +Quinn merely pointed to the top of his bookcase, where there reposed a +stuffed white mouse, apparently asleep. + +"That's a memento of the case," replied the former operative. "I'll tell +you of it the next time you drop in." + + + + +XIII + +THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE MICE + + +"The United States Secret Service," announced Bill Quinn, "is by long +odds the best known branch of the governmental detective bureaus. The +terror which the continental crook feels at the sound of the name +'Scotland Yard' finds its echo on this side of the Atlantic whenever a +criminal knows that he has run afoul of the U. S. S. S. For Uncle Sam +never forgives an injury or forgets a wrong. Sooner or later he's going +to get his man--no matter how long it takes nor how much money it costs. + +"But the Secret Service, strictly speaking, is only one branch of the +organization. There are others which work just as quietly and just as +effectively. The Department of Justice, which had charge of the +violation of neutrality laws, banking, and the like; the Treasury +Department, which, through the Customs Service and the Bureau of +Internal Revenue, wages constant war on the men and women who think they +can evade the import regulations and the laws against illicit +manufacture of alcohol; the Pension Bureau of the Interior Department, +which is called upon to handle hundreds of frauds every year; and the +Post Office Department, which guards the millions of dollars intrusted +to the mails. + +"Each of these has its own province. Each works along its own line in +conjunction with the others, and each of them is, in reality, a secret +organization which performs a vastly important service to the nation as +a whole. When you speak of the Secret Service, the Treasury Department's +organization comes immediately to mind--coupled with a panorama of +counterfeiters, anarchists, revolutionaries, and the like. But the field +of the Secret Service is really limited when compared to the scope of +the other organizations. + +"Look around this room"--and he made a gesture which included the four +walls of the library den in which we were seated, a room in which the +usual decorations had been replaced by a strange collection of unusual +and, in a number of instances, gruesome relics. "Every one of those +objects is a memento of some exploit of the men engaged in Secret +Service," Quinn went on. "That Chinese hatchet up there came very close +to being buried in the skull of a man in San Diego, but its principal +mission in life was the solution of the mystery surrounding the +smuggling of thousands of pounds of opium. That water-stained cap was +fished out of the Missouri after its owner had apparently committed +suicide--but the Pension Bureau located him seven years later, with the +aid of a fortune teller in Seattle. At the side of the bookcase there +you will find several of the original poison-pen letters which created +so much consternation in Kansas City a few years ago, letters which +Allison of the Postal Inspection Service finally traced to their source +after the local authorities had given up the case as impossible of +solution. + +"The woman whose picture appears on the other wall was known as Mrs. +Armitage--and that was about all that they did know about her, save that +she was connected with one of the foreign organizations and that in some +mysterious way she knew everything that was going on in the State +Department almost as soon as it was started. And there, under that piece +of silk which figured in one of the boldest smuggling cases that the +Treasury Department ever tackled, is the blurred postmark which +eventually led to the discovery of the man who murdered Montgomery +Marshall--a case in which our old friend Sherlock Holmes would have +reveled. But it's doubtful if he could have solved it any more +skillfully than did one of the Post Office operatives." + +"What's the significance of that white mouse on the mantelpiece?" I +inquired, sensing the fact that Quinn was in one of his story-telling +moods. + +"It hasn't any significance," replied the former government agent, "but +it has a story--one which illustrates my point that all the nation's +detective work isn't handled by the Secret Service, by a long shot. Did +you ever hear of H. Gordon Fowler, alias W. C. Evans?" + +"No," I replied, "I don't think I ever did." + +"Well, a lot of people have--to their sorrow," laughed Quinn, reaching +for his pipe. + + * * * * * + +No one appears to know what Fowler's real name is [continued the former +operative]. He traveled under a whole flock of aliases which ran the +gamut of the alphabet from Andrews to Zachary, but, to save mixing +things up, suppose that we assume that his right name was Fowler. He +used it for six months at one time, out in Minneapolis, and got away +with twenty thousand dollars' worth of stuff. + +For some time previous to Fowler's entrance upon the scene various +wholesale houses throughout the country had been made the victims of +what appeared to be a ring of bankruptcy experts--men who would secure +credit for goods, open a store, and then "fail." Meanwhile the +merchandise would have mysteriously vanished and the proprietor would be +away on a "vacation" from which, of course, he would never return. + +On the face of it this was a matter to be settled solely by the +Wholesalers' Credit Association, but the Postal Inspection Service got +into it through the fact that the mails were palpably being used with +intent to defraud and therefore Uncle Sam came to the aid of the +business men. + +On the day that the matter was reported to Washington the chief of the +Postal Inspection Service pushed the button which operated a buzzer in +the outer office and summoned Hal Preston, the chap who later on was +responsible for the solution of the Marshall murder mystery. + +"Hal," said the chief, with a smile, "here's a case I know you'll like. +It's right in the line of routine and it ought to mean a lot of +traveling around the country--quick jumps at night and all that sort of +stuff." + +Preston grunted, but said nothing. You couldn't expect to draw the big +cases every time, and, besides, there was no telling when something +might break even in the most prosaic of assignments. + +"Grant, Wilcox & Company, in Boston, report that they've been stung +twice in the same place by a gang of bankruptcy sharks," the chief went +on. "And they're not the only ones who have suffered. Here's a list of +the concerns and the men that they've sold to. You'll see that it covers +the country from Hoquiam, Washington, to Montclair, New Jersey--so they +appear to have their organization pretty well in hand. Ordinarily we +wouldn't figure in this thing at all--but the gang made the mistake of +placing their orders through the mail and now it's up to us to land 'em. +Here's the dope. Hop to it!" + +That night, while en route to Mount Clemens, Michigan, where the latest +of the frauds had been perpetrated, Preston examined the envelope full +of evidence and came to a number of interesting conclusions. In the +first place the failures had been staged in a number of different +localities--Erie, Pennsylvania, had had one of them under the name of +"Cole & Hill"; there had been another in Sioux City, where Immerling +Brothers had failed; Metcalf and Newman, Illinois, had likewise +contributed their share, as had Minneapolis, Newark, Columbus, White +Plains, and Newburg, New York; San Diego, California; Hoquiam, +Washington, and several other points. + +But the point that brought Hal up with a jerk was the dates attached to +each of these affairs. No two of them had occurred within six months of +the other and several were separated by as much as a year. + +"Who said this was a gang?" he muttered. "Looks a lot more like the work +of a single man with plenty of nerve and, from the amount of stuff he +got away with, he ought to be pretty nearly in the millionaire class by +now. There's over two hundred thousand dollars' worth of goods covered +by this report alone and there's no certainty that it is complete. Well, +here's hoping--it's always easier to trail one man than a whole bunch of +'em." + +In Mount Clemens Preston found further evidence which tended to prove +that the bankruptcy game was being worked by a single nervy individual, +posing under the name of "Henry Gerard." + +Gerard, it appeared, had entered the local field about a year before, +apparently with plenty of capital, and had opened two prosperous stores +on the principal street. In August, about two months before Preston's +arrival, the proprietor of the Gerard stores had left on what was +apparently scheduled for a two weeks' vacation. That was the last that +had been heard of him, in spite of the fact that a number of urgent +creditors had camped upon his trail very solicitously. The stores had +been looted, only enough merchandise being left to keep up the fiction +of a complete stock, and Gerard had vanished with the proceeds. + +After making a few guarded inquiries in the neighborhood of the store, +Preston sought out the house where Gerard had boarded during his stay in +Mount Clemens. There he found that the missing merchant, in order to +allay suspicion, had paid the rental of his apartment for three months +in advance, and that the place had not been touched since, save by the +local authorities who had been working on the case. + +"You won't find a thing there," the chief of police informed Hal, in +response to a request for information. "Gerard's skipped and that's all +there is to it. We've been over the place with a fine-tooth comb and +there ain't a scrap of evidence. We did find some telegrams torn up in +his waste basket, but if you can make anything out of 'em it's more than +I can," and he handed over an envelope filled with scraps of finely torn +yellow paper. + +"Not the slightest indication of where Gerard went?" inquired Preston as +he tucked the envelope in an inside pocket. + +"Not a bit," echoed the chief. "He may be in China now, so far as we +know." + +"Was he married?" + +"Nobody here knows nothin' about him," the chief persisted. "They do say +as how he was right sweet on a girl named Anna Something-or-other who +lived in the same block. But she left town before he did, and she 'ain't +come back, neither." + +"What did you say her name was?" + +"Anna Vaughan, I b'lieve she called herself. You might ask Mrs. Morris +about her. She had a room at her place, only a few doors away from +where Gerard stayed." + +The apartment of the man who had vanished, Preston found, was furnished +in the manner typical of a thousand other places. Every stick of +furniture appeared to have seen better days and no two pieces could be +said to match. Evidently Gerard had been practicing economy in his +domestic arrangements in order to save all the money possible for a +quick getaway. What was more, he had carefully removed everything of a +personal nature, save a row of books which decorated the mantel piece in +one of the rooms. + +It was toward these that Preston finally turned in desperation. All but +one of them were the cheaper grade of fiction, none of which bore any +distinguishing marks, but the exception was a new copy of the latest +Railroad Guide. Just as Preston pounced upon this he heard a chuckle +from behind him and, whirling, saw the chief of police just entering the +door. + +"Needn't worry with that, young man," he urged. "I've been all through +it and there ain't nothin' in it. Just thought I'd drop up to see if +you'd found anything," he added, in explanation of his sudden +appearance. "Have you?" + +"No," admitted the postal operative. "Can't say that I have. This is the +first piece of personal property that I've been able to locate and you +say there is nothing in this?" + +"Nary a clue," persisted the chief, but Preston, as if loath to drop the +only tangible reminder of Gerard, idly flipped the pages of the Guide, +and then stood it on edge on the table, the covers slightly opened. +Then, as the chief watched him curiously, he closed the book, opened it +again and repeated the operation. + +"What's the idea? Tryin' to make it do tricks?" the chief asked as Hal +stood the book on edge for the third time. + +"Hardly that. Just working on a little theory of my own," was the +response, as the post-office man made a careful note of the page at +which the Guide had fallen open--the same one which had presented itself +to view on the two other occasions. "Here, would you like to try it?" +and he handed the volume to the chief. But that functionary only +shrugged his shoulders and replaced the Guide upon the mantelpiece. + +"Some more of your highfalutin' detective work, eh?" he muttered. "Soon +you'll be claimin' that books can talk." + +"Possibly not out loud," smiled Hal. "But they can be made to tell very +interesting stories now and then, if you know how to handle 'em. There +doesn't seem to be much here, Chief, so I think I'll go back to the +hotel. Let me know if anything comes up, will you?" And with that he +left. + +But before returning to the hotel he stopped at the house where Anna +Vaughan had resided and found out from the rather garrulous landlady +that Gerard had appeared to be rather smitten with the beautiful +stranger. + +"She certainly was dressed to kill," said the woman who ran the +establishment. "A big woman and strong as all outdoors. Mr. Gerard came +here three or four nights a week while she was with us and he didn't +seem to mind the mice at all." + +"Mind the what?" snapped Preston. + +"The mice--the white mice that she used to keep as pets," explained the +landlady. "Had half a dozen or more of them running over her shoulders, +but I told her that I couldn't stand for that. She could keep 'em in +her room if she wanted to, but I had to draw the line somewhere. Guess +it was on their account that she didn't have any other visitors. S'far +as I know Mr. Gerard was the only one who called on her." + +"When did Miss Vaughan leave?" Hal inquired. + +"Mrs. Vaughan," corrected the woman. "She was a widow--though she was +young and pretty enough to have been married any time she wanted to be. +Guess the men wouldn't stand for them mice, though. She didn't stay very +long--just about six weeks. Left somewheres about the middle of July." + +"About two weeks before Gerard did?" + +"About that--though I don't just remember the date." + +A few more inquiries elicited the fact that Mrs. Vaughan's room had been +rented since her departure, so Preston gave up the idea of looking +through it for possible connecting links with the expert in bankruptcy. + +Returning to the hotel, the operative settled down to an examination of +the scraps of torn telegrams which the chief had handed him. Evidently +they had been significant, he argued, for Gerard had been careful to +tear them into small bits, and it was long past midnight before he had +succeeded in piecing the messages together, pasting the scraps on glass +in case there had been any notations on the reverse of the blank. + +But when he had finished he found that he had only added one more +puzzling aspect to the case. + +There were three telegrams, filed within a week and all dated just +before Gerard had left town. + +"Geraldine, Anna, May, and Florence are in Chicago," read the message +from Evanston, Illinois. + +"George, William, Katherine, Ray, and Stephen still in St. Louis," was +the wire filed from Detroit. + +The third message, from Minneapolis, detailed the fact that "Frank, +Vera, Marguerite, Joe, and Walter are ready to leave St. Paul." + +None of the telegrams was signed, but, merely as a precaution, Preston +wired Evanston, Detroit, and Minneapolis to find out if there was any +record of who had sent them. + +"Agent here recalls message," came the answer from Detroit the next day. +"Filed by woman who refused to give her name. Agent says sender was +quite large, good-looking, and very well dressed." + +"Anna Vaughan!" muttered Preston, as he tucked the telegram in his +pocket and asked to be shown a copy of the latest Railway Guide. + +Referring to a note which he had made on the previous evening, Hal +turned to pages 251-2, the part of the book which had fallen open three +times in succession when he had examined it in Gerard's rooms, and noted +that it was the Atchinson, Topeka & Santa Fé time-table, westbound. +Evidently the missing merchant had invested in a copy of the Guide +rather than run the risk of leaving telltale time-tables around his +apartment, but he had overstepped himself by referring to only one +portion of the book. + +"Not the first time that a crook has been just a little too clever," +mused Preston, with a smile. "If it had been an old copy, there wouldn't +have been any evidence--but a new book, opened several times at the same +place, can be made to tell tales--his honor, the chief of police, to the +contrary." + +It was clear, therefore, that Preston had three leads to work on: Anna +Vaughan, a large, beautiful woman, well-dressed and with an affection +for white mice; the clue that Gerard was somewhere in the Southwest and +at least the first names of fourteen men and women connected with the +gang. + +But right there he paused. Was there any gang? The dates of the various +disappearances tended to prove that there wasn't, but the messages +received by Gerard certainly appeared to point to the fact that others +were connected with the conspiracy to defraud. + +Possibly one of the clerks who had been connected with the Gerard stores +would be able to throw a little light upon the situation.... + +It wasn't until Hal interviewed the woman who had acted as cashier and +manager for the second store that he found the lead he was after. In +response to his inquiry as to whether she had ever heard the missing +proprietor speak of any of the persons mentioned in the wires, the +cashier at first stated definitely that she hadn't, but added, a moment +later: + +"Come to think of it, he did. Not as people, but as trunks." + +"What's that?" exclaimed the operative. "Trunks?" + +"Yes. I remember sometime last spring, when we were figuring on how much +summer goods we ought to carry, I mentioned the matter to Mr. Gerard, +and almost automatically he replied, 'I'll wire for Edna and Grace.' +Thinking he meant saleswomen, I reminded him that we had plenty, +particularly for the slack season. He colored up a bit, caught his +breath, and turned the subject by stating that he always referred to +trunks of goods in terms of people's first names--girls for the feminine +stuff and men's for the masculine. But Edna and Grace weren't on your +list, were they?" + +"No," replied Preston. "But that doesn't matter. Besides, didn't the two +trunks of goods arrive?" + +"Yes, they came in a couple of weeks later." + +"Before Mrs. Vaughan came to town?" + +"Oh yes, some time before she arrived." + +"I thought so," was Preston's reply, and, thanking the girl, he wandered +back to the hotel--convinced that he had solved at least one of the +mysteries, the question of what Gerard did with his surplus "bankrupt +stock." It was evidently packed in trunks and shipped to distant points, +to be forwarded by the Vaughan woman upon instructions from Gerard +himself. The wires he had torn up were merely confirmatory messages, +sent so that he would have the necessary information before making a +getaway. + +"Clever scheme, all right," was Hal's mental comment. "Now the next +point is to find some town in the Southwest where a new store has been +opened within the past two months." + +That night the telegraph office at Mount Clemens did more business than +it had had for the past year. Wires, under the government frank, went +out to every town on the Atchinson, Topeka & Santa Fé and to a number of +adjacent cities. In each case the message was the same: + + Wire name of any new clothing store opened within past two + months. Also description of proprietor. Urgent. + + PRESTON, + U. S. P. I. S. + +Fourteen chiefs of police replied within the next forty-eight hours, but +of these only two--Leavenworth and Fort Worth--contained descriptions +which tallied with that of Henry Gerard. + +So, to facilitate matters, Preston sent another wire: + + Has proprietor mentioned in yesterday's wire a wife or woman + friend who keeps white mice as pets? + +Fort Worth replied facetiously that the owner of the new store there was +married, but that his wife had a cat--which might account for the +absence of the mice. Leavenworth, however, came back with: + + Yes, Mrs. Noble, wife of owner of Outlet Store, has white + mice for pets. Why? + + Never mind reason [Preston replied]. Watch Noble and wife + until I arrive. Leaving to-day. + +Ten minutes after reaching Leavenworth Preston was ensconced in the +office of the chief of police, outlining the reason for his visit. + +"I'm certain that Noble is the man you want," said the chief, when Hal +had finished. "He came here some six weeks or more ago and at once +leased a store, which he opened a few days later. The description fits +him to a T, except for the fact that he's evidently dispensed with the +mustache. The Vaughan woman is posing as his wife and they've rented a +house on the outskirts of town. What do you want me to do? Nab 'em right +away?" + +"No," directed the operative. "I'd rather attend to that myself, if you +don't object. After trailing them this far, I'd like to go through with +it. You might have some men handy, though, in case there's any fuss." + +Just as Mr. and Mrs. C. K. Noble were sitting down to dinner there was a +ring at their front-door bell and Noble went to see who it was. + +"I'd like to speak to Mr. H. Gordon Fowler," said Preston, his hand +resting carelessly in the side pocket of his coat. + +"No Mr. Fowler lives here," was the growling reply from the inside. + +"Then Mr. W. C. Evans or Mr. Henry Gerard will do!" snapped the +operative, throwing his shoulder against the partly opened door. +Noble--or Fowler, as he was afterward known--stepped aside as Hal +plunged through, and then slammed the door behind him. + +"Get him, Anna!" he called, throwing the safety bolt into position. + +The next thing that Preston knew, a pair of arms, bare and feminine but +strong as iron, had seized him around the waist and he was in imminent +danger of being bested by a woman. With a heave and a wriggling twist he +broke the hold and turned, just in time to see Fowler snatch a revolver +from a desk on the opposite side of the room and raise it into position. +Without an instant's hesitation he leaped to one side, dropped his hand +into his coat pocket, and fired. Evidently the bullet took effect, for +the man across the room dropped his gun, spun clean around and then sank +to the floor. As he did so, however, the woman hurled a heavy vase +directly at Preston's head and the operative sank unconscious. + + * * * * * + +"Well, go on!" I snapped, when Quinn paused. "You sound like a serial +story--to be continued in our next. What happened then?" + +"Nothing--beyond the fact that three policemen broke in some ten seconds +after Hal fired, grabbed Mrs. Vaughan or whatever her name was, and kept +her from beating Hal to death, as she certainly would have done in +another minute. Fowler wasn't badly hurt. In fact, both of them stood +trial the next spring--Fowler drawing six years and Anna Vaughan one. +Incidentally, they sent 'em back to Leavenworth to do time and, as a +great concession, allowed the woman to take two of her white mice with +her. I managed to get one of the other four, and, when it died, had it +stuffed as a memento of a puzzling case well solved. + +"It's a hobby of mine--keeping these relics. That hatchet, for +example.... Remind me to tell you about it some time. The mice were +responsible for finding one man in fifty million--which is something of +a job in itself--but the hatchet figured in an even more exciting +affair...." + + + + +XIV + +WAH LEE AND THE FLOWER OF HEAVEN + + +"Yes, there's quite a story attached to that," remarked Bill Quinn one +evening as the conversation first lagged and then drifted away into +silence. We were seated in his den at the time--the "library" which he +had ornamented with relics of a score or more of cases in which the +various governmental detective services had distinguished +themselves--and I came to with a start. + +"What?" I exclaimed. "Story in what?" + +"In that hatchet--the one on the wall there that you were speculating +about. It didn't take a psychological sleuth to follow your eyes and +read the look of speculation in them. That's a trick that a 'sparrow +cop' could pull!" + +"Well, then, suppose you pay the penalty for your wisdom--and spin the +yarn," I retorted, none the less glad of the opportunity to hear the +facts behind the sinister red stain which appeared on the blade of the +Chinese weapon, for I knew that Quinn could give them to me if he +wished. + +"Frankly, I don't know the full history of the hatchet," came the answer +from the other side of the fireplace. "Possibly it goes back to the Ming +dynasty--whenever that was--or possibly it was purchased from a +mail-order house in Chicago. Chop suey isn't the only Chinese article +made in this country, you know. But my interest in it commenced with the +night when Ezra Marks-- + +"However, let's start at the beginning." + + * * * * * + +Marks [continued the former operative] was, as you probably recall, one +of the best men ever connected with the Customs Service. It was he who +solved the biggest diamond-smuggling case on record, and he was also +responsible for the discovery of the manner in which thirty thousand +yards of very valuable silk was being run into the country every year +without visiting the custom office. That's a piece of the silk up there, +over the picture of Mrs. Armitage.... + +It wasn't many months before the affair of the Dillingham diamonds that +official Washington in general and the offices of the Customs Service in +particular grew quite excited over the fact that a lot of opium was +finding its way into California. Of course, there's always a fair amount +of "hop" on the market, provided you know where to look for it, and the +government has about as much chance of keeping it out altogether as it +has of breaking up the trade in moonshine whisky. The mountaineer is +going to have his "licker" and the Chink is going to have his dope--no +matter what you do. But it's up to the Internal Revenue Bureau and the +Customs Service to see that neither one arrives in wholesale quantities. +And that was just what was happening on the Coast. + +In fact, it was coming in so fast that the price was dropping every day +and the California authorities fairly burned up the wires 'cross +continent with their howls for help. + +At that time Marks--Ezra by name and "E. Z." by nickname--was +comparatively a new member of the force. He had rendered valuable +service in Boston, however, and the chief sent for him and put the whole +thing in his hands. + +"Get out to San Diego as quickly as you know how," snapped the chief, +tossing over a sheaf of yellow telegraph slips. "There's all the +information we have, and apparently you won't get much more out +there--unless you dig it up for yourself. All they seem to know is that +the stuff is coming in by the carload and is being peddled in all the +hop joints at a lower price than ever before. It's up to you to get the +details. Any help you need will be supplied from the San Francisco +office, but my advice is to play a lone hand--you're likely to get +further than if you have a gang with you all the time." + +"That's my idear, Chief," drawled Ezra, who hailed from Vermont and had +all the New Englander's affection for single-handed effort, not because +he had the least objection to sharing the glory, but simply because he +considered it the most efficient way to work. "I'll get right out there +and see how the land lays." + +"Needn't bother to report until you discover something worth while," +added the chief. "I'll know that you're on the job and the farther you +keep away from headquarters the less suspicion you're likely to arouse." + +This was the reason that, beyond the fact they knew that an operative +named Marks had been sent from Washington to look into the opium matter, +the government agents on the Coast were completely in the dark as to the +way in which the affair was being handled. In fact, the chief himself +was pretty well worried when two months slipped by without a word from +Ezra.... + +But the big, raw-boned Yankee was having troubles of his own. Likewise, +he took his instructions very seriously and didn't see the least reason +for informing Washington of the very patent fact that he had gotten +nowhere and found out nothing. + +"They know where they can reach me," he argued to himself one night, +about the time that the chief began to wonder if his man were floating +around the bay with a piece of Chinese rope about his neck. "Unless I +get a wire they won't hear anything until I have at least a line on this +gang." + +Then, on going over the evidence which he had collected during the weeks +that he had been in San Diego, he found that there was extremely little +of it. Discreet questioning had developed the fact, which he already +knew, that opium was plentiful all along the Coast, and that, +presumably, it was supplied from a point in the south of the state. But +all his efforts to locate the source of the drug brought him up against +a blank wall. + +In order to conduct his investigations with a minimum of suspicion, +Marks had elected to enter San Diego in the guise of a derelict--a +character which he had played to such perfection that two weeks after he +arrived he found himself in court on the charge of vagrancy. Only the +fact that the presiding magistrate did not believe in sentencing first +offenders saved him from ten days in the workhouse, an opportunity which +he was rather sorry to miss because he figured that he might pick up +some valuable leads from the opium addicts among his fellow prisoners. + +The only new point which he had developed during his stay in the +underworld was that some one named Sprague, presumably an American, was +the brains of the opium ring and had perfected the entire plan. But who +Sprague was or where he might be found were matters which were kept in +very watchful secrecy. + +"I give it up," muttered the operative, shrugging his arms into a +threadbare coat and shambling out of the disreputable rooming house +which passed for home. "Work doesn't seem to get me anywhere. Guess I'll +have to trust to luck," and he wandered out for his nightly stroll +through the Chinese quarter, hoping against hope that something would +happen. + +It did--in bunches! + +Possibly it was luck, possibly it was fate--which, after all, is only +another name for luck--that brought him into an especially unsavory +portion of the city shortly after midnight. + +He had wandered along for three hours or more, with no objective in view +save occasional visits to dives where he was known, when he heard +something which caused him to whirl and automatically reach for his hip +pocket. It was the cry of a woman, shrill and clear--the cry of a woman +in mortal danger! + +It had only sounded once, but there was a peculiar muffled quality at +the end of the note, suggestive of a hand or a gag having been placed +over the woman's mouth. Then--silence, so still as to be almost +oppressive. + +Puzzled, Marks stood stock still and waited. So far as he could remember +that was the first time that he had heard anything of the kind in +Chinatown. He knew that there were women there, but they were kept well +in the background and, apparently, were content with their lot. The +woman who had screamed, however, was in danger of her life. Behind one +of those flimsy walls some drama was being enacted in defiance of the +law--something was being done which meant danger of the most deadly kind +to him who dared to interfere. + +For a full minute Marks weighed the importance of his official mission +against his sense of humanity. Should he take a chance on losing his +prey merely to try to save a woman's life? Should he attempt to find the +house from which the scream had come and force the door? Should he.... + +But the question was solved for him in a manner even more startling than +the cry in the night. + +While he was still debating the door of a house directly in front of him +opened wide and a blinding glare of light spread fanwise into the +street. Across this there shot the figure of what Marks at first took to +be a man--a figure attired in a long, heavily embroidered jacket and +silken trousers. As it neared him, however, the operative sensed that it +was a woman, and an instant later he knew that it was the woman whose +stifled scream had halted him only a moment before. + +Straight toward Marks she came and, close behind her--their faces set in +a look of deadly implacable rage--raced two large Chinamen. + +Probably realizing that she stood no chance of escape in the open +street, the woman darted behind Marks and prepared to dodge her +pursuers. As she did so the operative caught her panting appeal: "Save +me! For the sake of the God, save me!" + +That was all that was necessary. Ezra sensed in an instant the fact that +he had become embroiled in what bade fair to be a tragedy and braced +himself for action. He knew that he had no chance for holding off both +men, particularly as he did not care to precipitate gun play, but there +was the hope that he might divert them until the girl escaped. + +As the first of the two men leaped toward him, Marks swung straight for +his jaw, but his assailant ducked with what was almost professional +rapidity and the blow was only a glancing one. Before the operative had +time to get set the other man was upon him and, in utter silence save +for their labored breathing and dull thuds as blows went home, they +fought their way back to the far side of the street. As he retreated, +Marks became conscious that instead of making her escape, the girl was +still behind him. The reason for this became apparent when the larger of +the Chinamen suddenly raised his arm and the light from the open doorway +glinted on the blade of a murderous short-handled axe--the favorite +weapon of Tong warfare. Straight for his head the blade descended, but +the girl's arm, thrust out of the darkness behind him, diverted the blow +and the hatchet fairly whistled as it passed within an inch of his body. + +Realizing that his only hope of safety lay in reaching the opposite side +of the sidewalk, where he would be able to fight with his back against +the wall, Marks resumed his retreat, his arms moving like flails, his +fists crashing home blows that lost much of their power by reason of the +heavily padded jackets of his opponents. Finally, after seconds that +seemed like hours, one of his blows found the jaw of the man nearest +him, and Marks wheeled to set himself for the onrush of the other--the +man with the hatchet. + +But just at that moment his foot struck the uneven curbing and threw him +off his balance. He was conscious of an arc of light as the blade sang +through the air; he heard a high, half-muffled cry from the girl beside +him; and he remembered trying to throw himself out of the way of the +hatchet. Then there was a stinging, smarting pain in the side of his +head and in his left shoulder--followed by the blackness of oblivion. + +From somewhere, apparently a long distance off, there came a voice which +brought back at least a part of the operative's fast failing +consciousness, a voice which called a name vaguely familiar to him: + +"Sprague! Sprague!" + +"Sprague?" muttered Marks, trying to collect himself. +"Who--is--Sprague?" + +Then, as he put it later, he "went off." + +How much time elapsed before he came to he was unable to say, but +subsequent developments indicated that it was at least a day and a +night. He hadn't the slightest idea what had occurred meanwhile--he only +knew that he seemed to drift back to consciousness and a realization +that his head was splitting as if it would burst. Mechanically he +stretched his legs and tried to rise, only to find that what appeared to +be a wooden wall closed him in on all sides, leaving an opening only +directly above him. + +For an appreciable time he lay still, trying to collect his thoughts. He +recalled the fight in the open street, the intervention of the girl, the +fall over the curb and then--there was something that he couldn't +remember, something vital that had occurred just after he had tried to +dodge the hatchet blade. + +"Yes," he murmured, as memory returned, "it was some one calling for +'Sprague--Sprague!'" + +"Hush!" came a whispered command out of the darkness which surrounded +him, and a hand, soft and very evidently feminine, covered his mouth. +"You must not mention that name here. It means the death, instant and +terrible! They are discussing your fate in there now, but if they had +thought that you knew Wah Lee your life would not be worth a yen." + +"Wah Lee? Who is he?" Marks replied, his voice pitched in an undertone. +"I don't remember any Wah Lee. And who are you?" + +"Who I am does not matter," came out of the darkness, "but Wah Lee--he +is the master of life and death--the high priest of the Flower of +Heaven. Had it not been for him you would have been dead before this." + +"But I thought--" + +"That he desired your life? So he did--and does. But they have to plan +the way in which it is to be taken and the disposition which is to be +made of your body. That was what gave me my opportunity for binding up +your wound and watching for you to wake." + +In spite of himself Marks could not repress a slight shudder. So they +were saving him for the sacrifice, eh? They were going to keep him here +until their arrangements were complete and then make away with him, were +they? + +Moving cautiously, so as to avoid attracting attention, the operative +slipped his right hand toward his hip pocket, only to find that his +automatic was missing. As he settled back with a half moan, he felt +something cold slipped into the box beside him, and the girl's voice +whispered: + +"Your revolver. I secured it when they brought you in here. I thought +you might need it later. But be very careful. They must not suspect that +you have wakened." + +"I will," promised Marks, "but who are you? Why should you take such an +interest in me?" + +"You tried to save me from something that is worse than death," replied +the girl. "You failed, but it was not your fault. Could I do less than +to help you?" + +"But what was it you feared?" + +"Marriage! Marriage to the man I loathe above all others--the man who is +responsible for the opium that is drugging my people--the man who is +known as Wah Lee, but who is really an American." Here she hesitated for +a moment and then hissed: + +"Sprague!" + +"Sprague?" Marks echoed, sitting bolt upright. But the girl had gone, +swallowed up somewhere in the impenetrable darkness which filled the +room. + +His brain cleared by the realization that he had blundered into the +heart of the opium-runners' den, it took Ezra only a few seconds to +formulate a plan of action. The first thing, of course, was to get away. +But how could that be accomplished when he did not even know where he +was or anything about the house? The girl had said something about the +fact that "they were considering his fate." Who were "they" and where +were they? + +Obviously, the only way to find this out was to do a little scouting on +his own account, so, slowly and carefully, he raised himself clear of +the boxlike arrangement in which he had been placed and tried to figure +out his surroundings. His hand, groping over the side, came into almost +instant contact with the floor and he found it a simple matter to step +out into what appeared to be a cleared space in the center of a +comparatively large room. Then, curious as to the place where he had +been concealed, he felt the box from one end to the other. The sides +were about two feet high and slightly sloping, with an angle near the +head. In fact, both ends of the affair were narrower than the portion +which had been occupied by his shoulders. Piled up at either end of this +box were others, of the same shape and size. What could their purpose +be? Why the odd shape? + +Suddenly the solution of the mystery flashed across the operative's +mind--coffins! Coffins which appeared to be piled up on all sides of the +storeroom. Was this the warehouse for a Chinese undertaker or was it-- + +One coffin over which he nearly tripped gave him the answer. It was +partly filled with cans, unlabeled and quite heavy--containers which +Marks felt certain were packed full of opium and smuggled in some manner +inside the coffins. + +Just as he arrived at this conclusion Marks' eye was caught by a tiny +streak of light filtering through the wall on the opposite side of the +room. Making his way carefully toward this, he found that the crack +presented a fairly complete view of an adjoining apartment in which +three Chinese, evidently of high degree, were sorting money and entering +accounts in large books. + +As he looked, a fourth figure entered the room--a man who caused him to +catch his breath and flatten himself against the wall, for he recognized +the larger of the two Chinamen who had attacked him the night before--or +whenever it was. This was the man to whom the girl had alluded as "Wah +Lee, High Priest of the Flower of Heaven"--which was merely another way +of saying that he had charge of the opium shipments. + +As he entered the others rose and remained standing until he had seated +himself. Then one of them commenced to speak in rapid, undistinguishable +Chinese. Before he had had time to pronounce more than a few words, +however, Wah Lee interrupted him with a command couched in English to: +"Cut that out! You know I don't understand that gibberish well enough to +follow you." + +"Beg pardon," replied the other. "I always forget. You are so like one +of us that, even in private, I find it hard to remember." + +Wah Lee said nothing, but, slipping off his silken jacket, settled back +at his ease. A moment later Marks was amazed to see him remove his +mandarin's cap, and with it came a wig of coal-black hair! + +For the first time the government agent realized what the girl had meant +when she intimated that Wah Lee and Sprague were one and the same--an +American who was masquerading as Chinese in order to further his +smuggling plans! + +"Word has just arrived," continued the man who had first spoken, "that +the boat will be off Point Banda to-night. That will allow us to pick up +the coffins before daybreak and bury them until such time as the +American hounds are off their guard." + +"Yes," grunted Sprague, "and let's hope that that's soon. We must have +fifty thousand dollars' worth of the stuff cached on the other side of +the border and orders are coming in faster than we can fill them. I +think it would be best to run this cargo right in. We can stage a +funeral, if necessary, and avoid suspicion in that way. Wait a minute! +I've got a hunch! What about the bum we carried in here last night--the +one that tried to help Anita in her getaway?" + +"Anita?" + +"Yes, my girl. I can't remember that rigmarole you people call her. +Anita's her name from now on." + +"He is in the next room, unconscious. Two of the men dumped him in one +of the empty coffins and let him stay there." + +"Good," chuckled Sprague. "We'll just let him remain--run him across the +border, and bring his body back in a big hearse. The coffin and the body +will be real, but there'll be enough cans of dope packed in and around +him and in the carriages of the 'mourners' to make us all rich. It's the +chance of a lifetime for a big play, because no one will ever suspect us +or even inquire into his identity." + +Behind the thin wall which separated him from the next room Marks +stiffened and his fingers wound themselves even more tightly around the +butt of his automatic. It is not given to many men to hear their death +sentence pronounced in a manner as dramatic and cold-blooded as were the +words which came from the outer apartment. By listening intently, Ezra +learned that the coup would be sprung sometime within the next few +hours, the conspirators feeling that it would not be safe to delay, as +the opium shipment was due before dawn. + +Moving silently and aided somewhat by the fact that his eyes had become +a little accustomed to the inky blackness, Marks made his way back to +the place where he had awakened. He knew that that was where they would +expect to find him and he also knew that this was the one place to +avoid. So he located the door and, finding it bolted from the outside, +placed himself where he would be at least partly sheltered when the +party entered. + +After what seemed to be an interminable time he finally heard a sound +from the hallway--the soft slip-slip of felt shoes approaching. Then the +bolt was withdrawn and the door opened, admitting the four men whom he +had seen in the other room, and behind them, carrying a lantern, came +the girl. + +Nerving himself for a supreme leap, Marks waited until all five visitors +were inside the room, and then started to slip through the open doorway. +But his movement attracted the attention of the man called Sprague and, +with a cry of warning, he wheeled and fired before the operative could +gain the safety of the hall. Knowing that his body, outlined against the +light from outside, would make an ideal target, Ezra dropped to the +floor and swung his automatic into action. As he did so the girl +extinguished the lantern with a single swift blow, leaving the room in +total blackness, save for the path made by the light in the hallway. + +For probably twenty seconds there wasn't a sound. Then Marks caught a +glimpse of a moving figure and fired, leaping to one side as he did so +in order to avoid the fusillade directed at the flash of his revolver. +By a cry from the other side of the room he knew that his shot had gone +home, and a moment later he had an opportunity to wing another of his +assailants, again drawing a volley of shots. The last shot in his clip +was fired with a prayer--but it evidently went home, for only silence, +punctuated by moans from the opposite side of the room, ensued. + + * * * * * + +"That night," concluded Quinn, "a big sailing vessel was met off Point +Banda and they found a full month's supply of opium aboard of her. A +search of Lower California, near the border, also disclosed a burying +ground with many of the graves packed with cans of the drug. The raid, +of course, was a violation of Mexican neutrality--but they got away with +it." + +"The girl?" I cut in. "What became of her?" + +"When the police reached the house a few moments after Marks had fired +the last shot, they found that Sprague was dead with one of Ezra's +bullets through his brain. The three Chinamen were wounded, but not +fatally. The girl, however, was huddled in a corner, dead. No one ever +discovered whether she stopped one of the bullets from Marks's revolver +or whether she was killed by Sprague's men as a penalty for putting out +the lantern. Undoubtedly, that saved Ezra's life--which was the reason +that he saw that she was given a decent funeral and an adequate memorial +erected over her grave. + +"He also kept her jacket as a memento of the affair, turning the hatchet +over to me for my collection. Under it you will find a copy of the wire +he sent the chief." + +Curious, I went over and read the yellow slip framed beneath the weapon: + + Opium smuggled in coffins. American, at head of ring, dead. + Gang broken up. Opium seized. What next? + + MARKS. + +"Didn't wait long for another assignment, did he?" I inquired. + +"No," was the response. "When you're working for Uncle Sam you come to +find that excitement is about the only thing that keeps your nerves +quiet. Sometimes, as in Marks's case, it's the thrill of the actual +combat. But more often it's the search for a tangible clue--the groping +in the dark for something you know exists but which you can't lay your +hands on. That was the trouble with the Cheney case...." + + + + +XV + +THE MAN WITH THREE WIVES + + +One of the first things to strike the eye of the visitor who enters the +library-den of William J. Quinn--known to his friends and former +associates in the United States Secret Service as "Bill"--is a frame +which stands upon the mantel and contains the photographs of three +exceptionally pretty women. + +Anyone who doesn't know that this room is consecrated to relics of the +exploits of the various governmental detective services might be +pardoned for supposing that the three pictures in the single frame are +photographs of relatives. Only closer inspection will reveal the fact +that beneath them appears a transcript from several pages of a certain +book of records--the original of which is kept at the New York City +Hall. + +These pages state that.... + +But suppose we let Quinn tell the story, just as he told it one cold +November night while the wind was whistling outside and the cheery +warmth of the fire made things extremely snug within. + + * * * * * + +Secret Service men [said Quinn] divide all of their cases into two +classes--those which call for quick action and plenty of it and those +which demand a great deal of thought and only an hour or so of actual +physical work. Your typical operative--Allison, who was responsible for +solving the poison-pen puzzle, for example, or Hal Preston, who +penetrated the mystery surrounding the murder of Montgomery Marshall--is +essentially a man of action. He likes to tackle a job and get it over +with. It doesn't make any difference if he has to round up a half dozen +counterfeiters at the point of a single revolver--as Tommy Callahan once +did--or break up a gang of train robbers who have sworn never to be +taken alive. As long as he has plenty of thrills and excitement, as long +as he is able to get some joy out of life, he doesn't give a hang for +the risk. That's his business and he loves it. + +But it's the long-drawn-out cases which he has to ponder over and +consider from a score of angles that, in the vernacular of vaudeville, +capture his Angora. Give him an assignment where he can trail his man +for a day or two, get the lay of the land, and then drop on the bunch +like a ton o' brick and everything's fine. Give him one of the other +kind and--well, he's just about as happy as Guy Randall was when they +turned him loose with instructions to get something on Carl Cheney. + +Remember during the early days of the war when the papers were full of +stories from New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Milwaukee and points west +about gatherings of pro-German sympathizers who were determined to aid +the Fatherland? Theoretically, we were neutral at that time and these +people had all the scope they wanted. They did not confine themselves to +talk, however, but laid several plans which were destined to annoy the +government and to keep several hundred operatives busy defeating +them--for they were aimed directly at our policy of neutrality. + +As a campaign fund to assure the success of these operations, the German +sympathizers raised not less than sixteen million dollars--a sum which +naturally excited the cupidity not only of certain individuals within +their own ranks, but also of persons on the outside--men who were +accustomed to live by their wits and who saw in this gigantic collection +the opportunity of a lifetime. + +When you consider that you can hire a New York gangster to commit murder +for a couple of hundred dollars--and the "union scale" has been known to +be even lower--it's no wonder that the mere mention of sixteen million +dollars caused many a crook of international reputation to figure how he +could divert at least a part of this to his own bank account. That's the +way, as it afterward turned out, that Carl Cheney looked at it. + +Cheney had rubbed elbows with the police on several occasions prior to +nineteen fourteen. It was suspected that he had been mixed up in a +number of exceptionally clever smuggling schemes and that he had had a +finger in one or two operations which came perilously close to +blackmail. But no one had ever been able to get anything on him. He was +the original Finnigin--"In agin, gone agin." By the time the plan came +to a successful conclusion all that remained of "Count Carl's" +connection with it was a vague and distinctly nebulous shadow--and you +simply can't arrest shadows, no matter how hard you try. + +The New York police were the first to tip Washington off to the fact +that Cheney, who had dropped his aristocratic alias for the time being, +was back in this country and had been seen in the company of a number of +prominent members of a certain German-American club which wasn't in any +too good repute with the Department of Justice by reason of the efforts +of some of its members to destroy the neutral stand of the nation. + + Have no indications of what Cheney is doing [the report + admitted], but it will be well to trail him. Apparently he + has some connection, officially or unofficially, with + Berlin. Advise what action you wish us to take. + +Whereupon the chief wired back: + + Operative assigned to Cheney case leaves to-night. Meanwhile + please watch. + +It wasn't until after the wire had been sent that Guy Randall was +summoned to the inner sanctum of the Secret Service and informed that he +had been elected to trail the elusive suspect and find out what he was +up to. + +"So far as our records show," stated the chief, "no one has ever been +able to catch this Cheney person in the act of departing from the +straight and narrow path. However, that's a matter of the past. What +we've got to find out is what he is planning now--why he is in New York +and why he has attached himself to the pro-German element which has all +kinds of wild schemes up its sleeve." + +"And I'm the one who's got to handle it?" inquired Guy, with a grimace. + +"Precisely," grinned the chief. "Oh, I know it doesn't look like much of +a job and I grant you that the thrill element will probably be lacking. +But you can't draw a snap every time. All that's asked is that you get +something on Cheney--something which will withstand the assaults of the +lawyers he will undoubtedly hire the minute we lay hands on him. +Therefore you've got to be mighty careful to have the right dope. If +you're satisfied that he's doing nothing out of the way, don't hesitate +to say so. But I don't expect that your report will clear him, for, from +what we already know of the gentleman, he's more likely to be implicated +in some plan aimed directly at a violation of neutrality, and it's +essential that we find out what that is before we take any radical +step." + +"What do you know about Cheney?" was Randall's next question, followed +by an explanation from the chief that the "count" had been suspected in +a number of cases and had barely been able to escape in time. + +"But," added the head of the Secret Service, "he did escape. And that's +what we have to prevent this time. He's a fast worker and a clever +one--which means that you've got to keep continually after him. Call in +all the help you need, but if you take my advice you'll handle the case +alone. You're apt to get a lot further that way." + +Agreeing that this was the best method to pursue, Randall caught the +midnight train for New York and went at once to police headquarters, +where he requested a full description of Cheney's previous activities. + +"You're asking for something what ain't," he was informed, +ungrammatically, but truthfully. "We've never been able to get a thing +on the count, though we're dead certain that he had a finger in several +crooked plays. The Latimer letters were never directly traced to him, +but it's a cinch that he had something to do with their preparation, +just as he had with the blackmailing of old man Branchfield and the +smuggling of the van Husen emeralds. You remember that case, don't you? +The one where the stones were concealed in a life preserver and they +staged a 'man overboard' stunt just as the ship came into the harbor. +Nobody ever got the stones or proved that they were actually +smuggled--but the count happened to be on the ship at the time, just as +he 'happened' to be in Paris when they were sold. We didn't even dare +arrest him, which accounts for the fact that his photograph doesn't +ornament the Rogues' Gallery." + +"Well, what's the idea of trailing him, then?" + +"Just to find out what he is doing. What d'ye call those birds that fly +around at sea just before a gale breaks--stormy petrels? That's the +count! He's a stormy petrel of crookedness. Something goes wrong every +time he hits a town--or, rather, just after he leaves, for he's too +clever to stick around too long. The question now is, What's this +particular storm and when is it goin' to break?" + +"Fine job to turn me loose on," grumbled Randall. + +"It is that," laughed the captain who was dispensing information. "But +you can never tell what you'll run into, me boy. Why I remember once--" + +Randall, however, was out of the office before the official had gotten +well started on his reminiscences. He figured that he had already had +too much of a grouch to listen patiently to some long-winded story dug +out of the musty archives of police history and he made his way at once +to the hotel where Carl Cheney was registered, flaunting his own name in +front of the police whom he must have known were watching him. + +Neither the house detective nor the plain-clothes man who had been +delegated to trail Cheney could add anything of interest to the little +that Randall already knew. The "count," they said, had conducted himself +in a most circumspect manner and had not been actually seen in +conference with any of the Germans with whom he was supposed to be in +league. + +"He's too slick for that," added the man from the Central Office. +"Whenever he's got a conference on he goes up to the Club and you can't +get in there with anything less than a battering ram and raiding squad. +There's no chance to plant a dictaphone, and how else are you going to +get the information?" + +"What does he do at other times?" countered Guy, preferring not to +reply to the former question until he had gotten a better line on the +case. + +"Behaves himself," was the laconic answer. "Takes a drive in the Park in +the afternoon, dines here or at one of the other hotels, goes to the +theater and usually finishes up with a little supper somewhere among the +white lights." + +"Any women in sight?" + +"Yes--two. A blond from the girl-show that's playin' at the +Knickerbocker and a red-head. Don't know who she is--but they're both +good lookers. No scandal, though. Everything appears to be on the +level--even the women." + +"Well," mused the government operative after a moment's silence, "I +guess I better get on the job. Probably means a long stretch of dull +work, but the sooner I get at it the sooner I'll get over it. Where is +Cheney now?" + +"Up in his room. Hasn't come down to breakfast yet. Yes. There he is +now. Just getting out of the elevator--headed toward the dinin' room," +and the plain-clothes man indicated the tall figure of a man about +forty, a man dressed in the height of fashion, with spats, a cane, and a +morning coat of the most correct cut. "Want me for anything?" + +"Not a thing," said Randall, absently. "I'll pick him up now. You might +tell the chief to watch out for a hurry call from me--though I'm afraid +he won't get it." + +As events proved, Randall was dead right. The Central Office heard +nothing from him for several months, and even Washington received only +stereotyped reports indicative of what Cheney was doing--which wasn't +much. + +Shortly after the first of the year, Guy sent a wire to the chief, +asking to be relieved for a day or two in order that he might be free to +come to Washington. Sensing the fact that the operative had some plan +which he wished to discuss personally, the chief put another man on +Cheney's trail and instructed Randall to report at the Treasury +Department on the following morning. + +"What's the matter?" inquired the man at the head of the Service as Guy, +a little thinner than formerly and showing by the wrinkles about his +eyes the strain under which he was working, strolled into the office. + +"Nothing's the matter, Chief--and that's where the trouble lies. You +know I've never kicked about work, no matter how much of it I've had. +But this thing's beginning to get on my nerves. Cheney is planning some +coup. I'm dead certain of that. What it's all about, though, I haven't +the least idea. The plans are being laid in the German-American Club and +there's no chance of getting in there." + +"How about bribing one of the employees to leave?" + +"Can't be done. I've tried it--half a dozen times. They're all Germans +and, as such, in the organization. However, I have a plan. Strictly +speaking, it's outside the law, but that's why I wanted to talk things +over with you...." + +When Randall had finished outlining his plan the chief sat for a moment +in thought. Then, "Are you sure you can put it over?" he inquired. + +"Of course I can. It's done every other day, anyhow, by the cops +themselves. Why shouldn't we take a leaf out of their book?" + +"I know. But there's always the possibility of a diplomatic protest." + +"Not in this case, Chief. The man's only a waiter and, besides, before +the embassy has a chance to hear about it I'll have found out what I +want to know. Then, if they want to raise a row, let 'em." + +The upshot of the matter was that, about a week later, Franz Heilman, a +waiter employed at the German-American Club in New York, was arrested +one night and haled into Night Court on a charge of carrying concealed +weapons--a serious offense under the Sullivan Act. In vain he protested +that he had never carried a pistol in his life. Patrolman Flaherty, who +had made the arrest, produced the weapon which he claimed to have found +in Heilman's possession and the prisoner was held for trial. + +Bright and early the next morning Randall, disguised by a mustache which +he had trained for just such an occasion and bearing a carefully +falsified letter from a German brewer in Milwaukee, presented himself at +the employee's entrance of the German-American Club and asked for the +steward. To that individual he told his story--how he had tried to get +back to the Fatherland and had failed, how he had been out of work for +nearly a month, and how he would like to secure employment of some kind +at the Club where he would at least be among friends. + +After a thorough examination of the credentials of the supposed +German--who had explained his accent by the statement that he had been +brought to the United States when very young and had been raised in +Wisconsin--the steward informed him that there was a temporary vacancy +in the Club staff which he could fill until Heilman returned. + +"The duties," the steward added, "are very light and the pay, while not +large, will enable you to lay by a little something toward your return +trip to Germany." + +Knowing that his time was limited, Randall determined to let nothing +stand in the way of his hearing all that went on in the room where +Cheney and his associates held their conferences. It was the work of +only a few moments to bore holes in the door which connected this room +with an unused coat closet--plugging up the holes with corks stained to +simulate the wood itself--and the instant the conference was on the new +waiter disappeared. + +An hour later he slipped out of the side entrance to the Club and the +steward is probably wondering to this day what became of him. Had he +been able to listen in on the private wire which connected the New York +office of the Secret Service with headquarters at Washington, he would +have had the key to the mystery. + +"Chief," reported Randall, "I've got the whole thing. There's a plot on +foot to raise one hundred and fifty thousand German reservists--men +already in this country--mobilizing them in four divisions, with six +sections. The first two divisions are to assemble at Silvercreek, +Michigan--the first one seizing the Welland Canal and the second +capturing Wind Mill Point, Ontario. The third is to meet at Wilson, N. +Y., and will march on Port Hope. The fourth will go from Watertown, N. +Y., to Kingston, Ontario, while the fifth will assemble somewhere near +Detroit and proceed toward Windsor. The sixth will stage an attack on +Ottawa, operating from Cornwall. + +"They've got their plans all laid for the coup, and Cheney reported +to-day that he intends to purchase some eighty-five boats to carry the +invading force into the Dominion. The only thing that's delaying the +game is the question of provisions for the army. Cheney's holding out +for another advance--from what I gathered he's already received a +lot--and claims that he will be powerless unless he gets it. I didn't +stay to listen to the argument, for I figured that I'd better leave +while the leaving was good." + +The reply that came back from Washington was rather startling to the +operative, who expected only commendation and the statement that his +task was completed. + +"What evidence have you that this invasion is planned?" + +"None besides what I heard through holes which I bored in one of the +doors of the German-American Club this morning." + +"That won't stand in court! We don't dare to arrest this man Cheney on +that. You've got to get something on him." + +"Plant it?" + +"No! Get it straight. And we can't wait for this expedition to start, +either. That would be taking too much of a chance. It's up to you to do +a little speedy work in the research line. Dig back into the count's +past and find something on which we can hold him, for he's very +evidently the brains of the organization, in spite of the fact that he +probably is working only for what he can get of that fund that the +Germans have raised. I understand that it's sixteen million dollars and +that's enough to tempt better men than Cheney. Now go to it, and +remember--you've got to work fast!" + +Disappointed, chagrined by the air of finality with which the receiver +at the Washington end of the line was hung up, Randall wandered out of +the New York office with a scowl on his face and deep lines of thought +between his eyes. If he hadn't been raised in the school which holds +that a man's only irretrievable mistake is to quit under fire, he'd have +thrown up his job right there and let some one else tackle the work of +landing the count. But he had to admit that the chief was right and, +besides, there was every reason to suppose that grave issues hung in the +balance. The invasion of Canada meant the overthrow of American +neutrality, the failure of the plans which the President and the State +Department had so carefully laid. + +Cheney was the crux of the whole situation. Once held on a charge that +could be proved in court, the plot would fall through for want of a +capable leader--for the operative had learned enough during his hour in +the cloak-room to know that "the count" was the mainspring of the whole +movement, despite the fact that he undoubtedly expected to reap a rich +financial harvest for himself. + +Selecting a seat on the top of a Fifth Avenue bus, Randall resigned +himself to a consideration of the problem. + +"The whole thing," he figured, "simmers down to Cheney himself. In its +ramifications, of course, it's a question of peace or war--but in +reality it's a matter of landing a crook by legitimate means. I can't +plant a gun on him, like they did on Heilman, and there's mighty little +chance of connecting him with the Branchfield case or the van Husen +emeralds at this late date. His conduct around town has certainly been +blameless enough. Not even any women to speak of. Wait a minute, though! +There were two. The blond from the Knickerbocker and that red-haired +dame. He's still chasing around with the blond--but what's become of +Miss Red-head?" + +This train of thought had possibilities. If the girl had been cast +aside, it was probable that she would have no objection to telling what +she knew--particularly as the color of her hair hinted at the possession +of what the owner would call "temperament," while the rest of the world +forgets to add the last syllable. + +It didn't take long to locate the owner of the fiery tresses. A quick +round-up of the head waiters at the cafés which Cheney frequented, a +taxi trip to Washington Square and another to the section above Columbus +Circle, and Randall found that the red-haired beauty was known as Olga +Brainerd, an artist's model, whose face had appeared upon the cover of +practically every popular publication in the country. She had been out +of town for the past two months, he learned, but had just returned and +had taken an apartment in a section of the city which indicated the +possession of considerable capital. + +"Miss Brainerd," said Randall, when he was face to face with the Titian +beauty in the drawing-room of her suite, "I came with a message from +your friend, Carl Cheney." + +Here he paused and watched her expression very closely. As he had hoped, +the girl was unable to master her feelings. Rage and hate wrote +themselves large across her face and her voice fairly snapped as she +started to reply. Randall, however, interrupted her with a smile and the +statement: + +"That's enough! I'm going to lay my cards face up on the table. I am a +Secret Service operative seeking information about Cheney. Here is my +badge, merely to prove that I'm telling the truth. We have reason to +believe that 'the Count,' as he is called, is mixed up with a pro-German +plot which, if successful, would imperil the peace of the country. Can +you tell us anything about him?" + +"Can I?" echoed the girl. "The beast! He promised to marry me, more than +two months ago, and then got infatuated with some blond chit of a chorus +girl. Just because I lost my head and showed him a letter I had +received--a letter warning me against him--he flew into a rage and +threatened.... Well, never mind what he did say. The upshot of the +affair was that he sent me out of town and gave me enough money to last +me some time. But he'll pay for his insults!" + +"Have you the letter you received?" asked Randall, casually--as if it +meant little to him whether the girl produced it or not. + +"Yes. I kept it. Wait a moment and I'll get it for you." A few seconds +later she was back with a note, written in a feminine hand--a note which +read: + + If you are wise you will ask the man who calls himself Carl + Cheney what he knows of Paul Weiss, of George Winters, and + Oscar Stanley. You might also inquire what has become of + Florence and Rose. + + (Signed) AMELIA. + +Randall looked up with a puzzled expression. "What's all this about?" he +inquired. "Sounds like Greek to me." + +"To me, too," agreed the girl. "But it was enough to make Carl purple +with rage and, what's more, to separate him from several thousand +dollars." + +"Weiss, Winters, and Stanley," mused Guy. "Those might easily be +Cheney's former aliases. Florence, Rose, and Amelia? I wonder.... Come +on, girl, we're going to take a ride down to City Hall! I've got a +hunch!" + +Late that afternoon when Carl Cheney arrived at his hotel he was +surprised to find a young man awaiting him in his apartment--a man who +appeared to be perfectly at ease and who slipped over and locked the +door once the count was safely within the room. + +"What does this mean?" demanded Cheney. "By what right--" + +"It means," snapped Randall, "that the game's up!" Then, raising his +voice, he called, "Mrs. Weiss!" and a tall woman parted the curtains at +the other end of the room; "Mrs. Winters!" and another woman entered; +"Mrs. Stanley!" and a third came in. With his fingers still caressing +the butt of the automatic which nestled in his coat pocket, Randall +continued: + +"Cheney--or whatever your real name is--there won't be any invasion of +Canada. We know all about your plans--in fact, the arsenal on West +Houston Street is in possession of the police at this moment. It was a +good idea and undoubtedly you would have cleaned up on it--were it not +for the fact that I am under the far from painful necessity of arresting +you on a charge of bigamy--or would you call it 'trigamy'? The records +at City Hall gave you away, after one of these ladies had been kind +enough to provide us with a clue to the three aliases under which you +conducted your matrimonial operations. + +"Come on, Count. The Germans may need you worse than we do--but we +happen to have you!" + + + + +XVI + +AFTER SEVEN YEARS + + +Bill Quinn was disgusted. Some one, evidently afflicted with an +ingrowing sense of humor, had sent him the prospectus of a "school" +which professed to be able to teach budding aspirants the art of +becoming a successful detective for the sum of twenty-five dollars, and +Quinn couldn't appreciate the humor. + +"_How to Become a Detective--in Ten Lessons_," he snorted. "It only +takes one for the man who's got the right stuff in him, and the man that +hasn't better stay out of the game altogether." + +"Well," I retorted, anxious to stir up any kind of an argument that +might lead to one of Quinn's tales about the exploits of Uncle Sam's +sleuths, "just what does it take to make a detective?" + +It was a moment or two before Quinn replied. Then: "There are only three +qualities necessary," he replied. "Common sense, the power of +observation, and perseverance. Given these three, with possibly a dash +of luck thrown in for good measure, and you'll have a crime expert who +could stand the heroes of fiction on their heads. + +"Take Larry Simmons, for example. No one would ever have accused him of +having the qualifications of a detective--any more than they would have +suspected him of being one. But Larry drew a good-sized salary from the +Bureau of Pensions because he possessed the three qualities I mentioned. +He had the common sense of a physician, the observation of a trained +newspaper reporter, and the perseverance of a bulldog. Once he sunk his +teeth in a problem he never let loose--which was the reason that very +few people ever put anything over on the Pension Bureau as long as Larry +was on the job. + +"That cap up there," and Quinn pointed to a stained and dilapidated bit +of headgear which hung upon the wall of his den, "is a memento of one of +Simmons's cases. The man who bought it would tell you that I'm dead +right when I say that Larry was persevering. That's putting it mildly." + + * * * * * + +Quite a while back [continued Quinn, picking up the thread of his story] +there was a man out in Saint Joseph, Missouri, named Dave Holden. No one +appeared to know where he came from and, as he conducted himself quietly +and didn't mix in with his neighbors' affairs, no one cared very much. + +Holden hadn't been in town more than a couple of weeks when one of the +older inhabitants happened to inquire if he were any kin to "Old Dave +Holden," who had died only a year or two before. + +"No," said Holden, "I don't believe I am. My folks all came from Ohio +and I understand that this Holden was a Missourian." + +"That's right," agreed the other, "and a queer character, too. Guess he +was pretty nigh the only man that fought on the Union side in the Civil +War that didn't stick th' government for a pension. Had it comin' to +him, too, 'cause he was a captain when th' war ended. But he always said +he didn't consider that Uncle Sam owed him anything for doin' his duty. +Spite of th' protests of his friends, Dave wouldn't ever sign a pension +blank, either." + +A few more questions, carefully directed, gave Holden the history of his +namesake, and that night he lay awake trying to figure out whether the +plan which had popped into his head was safe. It promised some easy +money, but there was the element of risk to be considered. + +"After all," he concluded, "I won't be doing anything that isn't +strictly within the law. My name is David Holden--just as the old man's +was. The worst that they can do is to turn down the application. I won't +be committing forgery or anything of the kind. And maybe it'll slip +through--which would mean a pile of money, because they'll kick in with +all that accumulated during the past fifty years." + +So it was that, in the course of time, an application was filed at the +Bureau of Pensions in Washington for a pension due "David Holden" of +Saint Joseph, Missouri, who had fought in the Civil War with the rank of +captain. But, when the application had been sent over to the War +Department so that it might be compared with the records on file there, +it came back with the red-inked notation that "Capt. David Holden had +died two years before"--giving the precise date of his demise as +evidence. + +The moment that the document reached the desk of the Supervisor of +Pensions he pressed one of the little pearl buttons in front of him and +asked that Larry Simmons be sent in. When Larry arrived the chief handed +him the application without a word. + +"Right! I'll look into this," said Larry, folding the paper and slipping +it into the pocket of his coat. + +"Look into it?" echoed the supervisor. "You'll do more than that! You'll +locate this man Holden--or whatever his right name is--and see that he +gets all that's coming to him. There've been too many of these cases +lately. Apparently people think that all they have to do is to file an +application for a pension and then go off and spend the money. Catch the +first train for Saint Joe and wire me when you've landed your man. The +district attorney will attend to the rest of the matter." + +The location of David Holden, as Simmons found, was not the simplest of +jobs. The pension applicant, being comparatively a newcomer, was not +well known in town, and Simmons finally had to fall back upon the +expedient of watching the post-office box which Holden had given as his +address, framing a dummy letter so that the suspect might not think that +he was being watched. + +Holden, however, had rented the box for the sole purpose of receiving +mail from the Pension Bureau. He had given the number to no one else and +the fact that the box contained what appeared to be an advertisement +from a clothing store made him stop and wonder. By that time, however, +Simmons had him well in sight and followed him to the boarding-house on +the outskirts of the town where he was staying. + +That evening, while he was still wondering at the enterprise of a store +that could obtain a post-office box number from a government bureau at +Washington, the solution of the mystery came to him in a decidedly +unexpected manner. The house in which Holden was staying was +old-fashioned, one of the kind that are heated, theoretically at least, +by "registers," open gratings in the wall. Holden's room was directly +over the parlor on the first floor and the shaft which carried the hot +air made an excellent sound-transmitter. + +It so happened that Simmons, after having made a number of inquiries +around town about the original Dave Holden, called at the boarding +house that night to discover what the landlady knew about the other man +of the same name, who was seated in the room above. + +Suddenly, like a voice from nowhere, came the statement in a +high-pitched feminine voice: "I really don't know anything about him at +all. Mr. Holden came here about six weeks ago and asked me to take him +in to board. He seemed to be a very nice, quiet gentleman, who was +willing to pay his rent in advance. So I let him have one of the best +rooms in the house." + +At the mention of his name Holden listened intently. Who was inquiring +about him, and why? + +There was only a confused mumble--apparently a man's reply, pitched in a +low tone--and then the voice of the landlady again came clearly through +the register: + +"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't do anything like that. Mr. Holden is...." + +But that was all that the pension applicant waited for. Moving with the +rapidity of a frightened animal, he secured one or two articles of value +from his dresser, crammed a hat into his pocket, slipped on a raincoat, +and vaulted out of the window, alighting on the sloping roof of a shed +just below. Before he had quitted the room, however, he had caught the +words "arrest on a charge of attempting to obtain money under false +pretenses." + +Some two minutes later there was a knock on his door and a voice +demanded admittance. There was no reply. Again the demand, followed by a +rattling of the doorknob and a tentative shake of the door. In all, it +was probably less than five minutes after Larry Simmons had entered the +parlor before he had burst in the door of Holden's room. But the bird +had flown and the open window pointed to the direction of his flight. + +Unfortunately for the operative the night was dark and the fugitive was +decidedly more familiar with the surrounding country than Larry was. By +the time he had secured the assistance of the police half an hour had +elapsed, and there weren't even any telltale footprints to show in which +direction the missing man had gone. + +"See that men are placed so as to guard the railroad station," Simmons +directed, "and pass the word up and down the line that a medium-sized +man, about thirty-five years of age, with black hair and a rather ruddy +complexion--a man wanted by the government on a charge of false +pretenses--is trying to make his escape. If anyone reports him, let me +know at once." + +That, under the circumstances, was really all that Larry could do. It +ought to be an easy matter to locate the fugitive, he figured, and it +would only be a question of a few days before he was safely in jail. + +Bright and early the next morning the operative was awakened by a +bell-boy who informed him that the chief of police would like to see +him. + +"Show him in," said Larry, fully expecting to see the chief enter with a +handcuffed prisoner. But the head of the police force came in alone, +carrying a bundle, which he gravely presented to Simmons. + +"What's this?" inquired the pension agent. + +"All that's left of your friend Holden," was the reply. "One of my men +reported late last night that he had heard a splash in the river as +though some one had jumped off the wharf, but he couldn't find out +anything more. To tell the truth, he didn't look very hard--because we +had our hands full with a robbery of Green's clothing store. Some one +broke in there and--" + +"Yes--but what about Holden?" Simmons interrupted. + +"Guess you'll have to drag the river for him," answered the chief. "We +found his coat and vest and raincoat on the dock this mornin', and on +top of them was this note, addressed to you." + +The note, as Larry found an instant later, read: + + I'd rather die in the river than go to jail. Tell your boss + that he can pay two pensions now--one for each of the Dave + Holdens. + +The signature, almost illegible, was that of "David Holden (Number +two)." + +"No doubt that your man heard the splash when Holden went overboard last +night?" inquired the operative. + +"Not the least in the world. He told me about it, but I didn't connect +it with the man you were after, and, besides, I was too busy right then +to give it much thought." + +"Any chance of recovering the body?" + +"Mighty little at this time of the year. The current's good and strong +an' the chances are that he won't turn up this side of the Mississippi, +if then. It was only by accident that we found his cap. It had lodged +under the dock and we fished it out less 'n half an hour ago--" and the +chief pointed to a water-soaked piece of cloth which Simmons recognized +as the one which Holden had been wearing the evening before. + +"Well, I don't suppose there's anything more that we can do," admitted +Larry. "I'd like to have the river dragged as much as possible, though I +agree with you that the chances for recovering the body are very slim. +Will you look after that?" + +"Sure I will, and anything else you want done." The chief was nothing if +not obliging--a fact which Simmons incorporated in his official report, +which he filed a few days later, a report which stated that "David +Holden, wanted on a charge of attempting to obtain money under false +pretenses, had committed suicide by drowning rather than submit to +arrest." + + The body has not been recovered [the report admitted], but + this is not to be considered unusual at this time of the year + when the current is very strong. The note left by the + fugitive is attached. + +Back from Washington came the wire: + + Better luck next time. Anyhow, Holden won't bother us again. + +If this were a moving picture [Quinn continued, after a pause], there +would be a subtitle here announcing the fact that seven years are +supposed to elapse. There also probably would be a highly decorated +explanatory title informing the audience that "Uncle Sam Never Forgets +Nor Forgives"--a fact that is so perfectly true that it's a marvel that +people persist in trying to beat the government. Then the scene of the +film would shift to Seattle, Washington. + +They would have to cut back a little to make it clear that Larry Simmons +had, in the meantime, left the Pension Bureau and entered the employment +of the Post-office Department, being desirous of a little more +excitement and a few more thrills than his former job afforded. But he +was still working for Uncle Sam, and his memory--like that of his +employer--was long and tenacious. + +One of the minor cases which had been bothering the department for some +time past was that of a ring of fortune-tellers who, securing +information in devious ways, would pretend that it had come to them from +the spirit world and use it for purposes which closely approximated +blackmail. Simmons, being in San Francisco at the time, was ordered to +proceed to Seattle and look into the matter. + +Posing as a gentleman of leisure with plenty of money and but little +care as to the way in which he spent it, it wasn't long before he was +steered into what appeared to be the very center of the ring--the +residence of a Madame Ahara, who professed to be able to read the stars, +commune with spirits, and otherwise obtain information of an occult +type. There Larry went through all the usual stages--palmistry, +spiritualism, and clairvoyance--and chuckled when he found, after his +third visit, that his pocket had been picked of a letter purporting to +contain the facts about an escapade in which he had been mixed up a few +years ago. The letter, of course, was a plant placed there for the sole +purpose of providing a lead for madame and her associates to follow. And +they weren't long in taking the tip. + +The very next afternoon the government agent received a telephone call +notifying him that madame had some news of great importance which she +desired to impart--information which had come to her from the other +world and in which she felt certain he would be interested. + +Larry asked if he might bring a friend with him, but the request--as he +had expected--was promptly refused. The would-be blackmailers were too +clever to allow first-hand evidence to be produced against them. They +wished to deal only with principals or, as madame informed him over the +phone, "the message was of such a nature that only he should hear it." + +"Very well," replied Simmons, "I'll be there at eleven this evening." + +It was not his purpose to force the issue at this time. In fact, he +planned to submit to the first demand for money and trust to the +confidence which this would inspire to render the blackmailers less +cautious in the future. But something occurred which upset the entire +scheme and, for a time at least, threatened disaster to the Post-office +schemes. + +Thinking that it might be well to look the ground over before dark, +Larry strolled out to Madame Ahara's about five o'clock in the afternoon +and took up his position on the opposite side of the street, studying +the house from every angle. While he was standing there a man came +out--a man who was dressed in the height of fashion, but whose face was +somehow vaguely familiar. The tightly waxed mustache and the iron-gray +goatee seemed out of place, for Simmons felt that the last time he had +seen the man he had been clean shaven. + +"Where was it?" he thought, as he kept the man in sight, though on the +opposite side of the street. "New York? No. Washington? Hardly. Saint +Louis? No, it was somewhere where he was wearing a cap--a cap that was +water-stained and ... I've got it! In Saint Joseph! The man who +committed suicide the night I went to arrest him for attempting to +defraud the Pension Bureau! It's he, sure as shooting!" + +But just as Simmons started to cross the street the traffic cop raised +his arm, and when the apparently interminable stream of machines had +passed, the man with the mustache was nowhere to be seen. He had +probably slipped into one of the near-by office buildings. But which? +That was a question which worried Larry for a moment or two. Then he +came to the conclusion that there was no sense in trying to find his man +at this moment. The very fact that he was in Seattle was enough. The +police could find him with little difficulty. + +But what had Holden been doing at the clairvoyant's? Had he fallen into +the power of the ring or was it possible that he was one of the +blackmailers himself? + +The more Larry thought about the matter, the more he came to the +conclusion that here was an opportunity to kill two birds with a single +stone--to drive home at least the entering wedge of the campaign against +the clairvoyants and at the same time to land the man who had eluded him +seven years before. + +The plan which he finally evolved was daring, but he realized that the +element of time was essential. Holden must not be given another +opportunity to slip through the net. + +That night when Larry kept his appointment at madame's he saw to it that +a cordon of police was thrown around the entire block, with instructions +to allow no one to leave until after a prearranged signal. + +"Don't prevent anyone from coming into the house," Simmons directed, +"but see that not a soul gets away from it. Also, you might be on the +lookout for trouble. The crowd's apt to get nasty and we can't afford to +take chances with them." + +A tall dark-skinned man, attired in an Arabian burnoose and wearing a +turban, answered the ring at the door, precisely as Larry +anticipated--for the stage was always well set to impress visitors. +Madame herself never appeared in the richly decorated room where the +crystal-gazing séances were held, preferring to remain in the background +and to allow a girl, who went by the name of Yvette, to handle visitors, +the explanation being that "Madame receives the spirit messages and +transmits them to Yvette, her assistant." + +Simmons therefore knew that, instead of dealing with an older and +presumably more experienced woman, he would only have to handle a girl, +and it was upon this that he placed his principal reliance. + +Everything went along strictly according to schedule. Yvette, seated on +the opposite side of a large crystal ball in which she read strange +messages from the other world--visions transmitted from the cellar by +means of a cleverly constructed series of mirrors--told the operative +everything that had been outlined in the letter taken from his pocket on +the preceding night, adding additional touches founded on facts which +Larry had been "careless" enough to let slip during his previous visits. +Then she concluded with a very thinly veiled threat of blackmail if the +visitor did not care to kick in with a certain sum of money. + +Larry listened to the whole palaver in silence, but his eyes were busy +trying to pierce the dim light in which the room was shrouded. So far as +he could see, the door through which he had entered formed the only +means of getting into the room--but there were a number of rugs and +draperies upon the walls, any one of which might easily mask a doorway. + +When the girl had finished, the operative leaned forward and hitched his +chair around so that he could speak in a whisper. + +"If you know what's good for you," he cautioned, "don't move! I've got +you covered, in the first place, and, secondly, there's a solid cordon +of police around this house! Careful--not a sound! I'm not after you. I +want the people who're behind you. Madame and her associates. This +blackmailing game has gone about far enough, but I'll see that you get +off with a suspended sentence if you do as I tell you. If not--" and the +very abruptness with which he stopped made the threat all the more +convincing. + +"What--what do you want me to do?" stammered the girl, her voice barely +audible. + +"Turn state's evidence and tip me off to everyone who's in on this +thing," was Larry's reply, couched in the lowest of tones. "There's not +a chance of escape for any of you, so you might as well do it and get it +over with. Besides that, I want to know where I can find a man with a +waxed mustache and iron-gray goatee who left this house at ten minutes +past five this afternoon." + +"Madame!" exclaimed the girl. "Davidson!" + +"Yes--Madame and Davidson, if that's the name he goes by now. It was +Holden the last time I saw him." + +"He"--and the girl's voice was a mere breath--"he is madame!" + +"What?" + +"Yes, there is no Madame Ahara. Davidson runs the whole thing. He is--" + +But at that moment one of the rugs on the wall which Larry was facing +swung outward and a man sprang into the room, a man whose face was +purple with rage and who leaped sidewise as he saw Larry's hand snap an +automatic into view above the pedestal on which the crystal ball +reposed. In a flash Simmons recognized two things--his danger and the +fact that the man who had just entered was Holden, alias Davidson, +blackmailer and potential thief. + +Before the government agent had time to aim the head of the clairvoyant +ring fired. But his bullet, instead of striking Larry, shattered the +crystal ball into fragments and the room was plunged into total +darkness. In spite of the fact that he knew the shot would bring speedy +relief from outside the house, Simmons determined to capture his man +single-handed and alive. Half-leaping, half-falling from the chair in +which he had been seated, the operative sprang forward in an attempt to +nail his man while the latter was still dazed by the darkness. But his +foot, catching in one of the thick rugs which carpeted the floor, +tripped him and he fell--a bullet from the other's revolver plowing +through the fleshy part of his arm. + +The flash, however, showed him the position of his adversary, and it was +the work of only a moment to slip forward and seize the blackmailer +around the waist, his right hand gripping the man's wrist and forcing it +upward so that he was powerless to use his revolver. For a full minute +they wrestled in the inky darkness, oblivious to the fact that the sound +of blows on the outer door indicated the arrival of reinforcements. + +Then suddenly Larry let go of the blackmailer's arm and, whirling him +rapidly around, secured a half nelson that threatened to dislocate his +neck. + +"Drop it!" he snarled. "Drop that gun before I wring your head off!" and +the muffled thud as the revolver struck the floor was the signal that +Holden had surrendered. A moment later the light in the center of the +room was snapped on and the police sergeant inquired if Larry needed any +assistance. + +"No," replied Simmons, grimly, "but you might lend me a pair of +bracelets. This bird got away from me once, some seven years ago, and +I'm not taking any more chances!" + + + + +XVII + +THE POISON-PEN PUZZLE + + +Beside the bookcase in the room which Bill Quinn likes to dignify by the +name of "library"--though it's only a den, ornamented with relics of +scores of cases in which members of the different government detective +services have figured--hangs a frame containing four letters, each in a +different handwriting. + +Beyond the fact that these letters obviously refer to some secret in the +lives of the persons to whom they are addressed, there is little about +them that is out of the ordinary. A close observer, however, would note +that in none of the four is the secret openly stated. It is only hinted +at, suggested, but by that very fact it becomes more mysterious and +alarming. + +It was upon this that I commented one evening as I sat, discussing +things in general, with Quinn. + +"Yes," he agreed, "the writer of those letters was certainly a genius. +As an author or as an advertising writer or in almost any other +profession where a mastery of words and the ability to leave much to the +imagination is a distinct asset, they would have made a big success." + +"They?" I inquired. "Did more than one person write the letters?" + +"Don't look like the writing of the same person, do they?" countered +Quinn. "Besides, that was one of the many phases of the matter which +puzzled Elmer Allison, and raised the case above the dead level of +ordinary blackmailing schemes." + + * * * * * + +Allison [Quinn went on, settling comfortably back in his big armchair] +was, as you probably remember, one of the star men of the Postal +Inspection Service, the chap who solved the mystery of the lost one +hundred thousand dollars in Columbus. In fact, he had barely cleared up +the tangle connected with the letters when assigned to look into the +affair of the missing money, with what results you already know. + +The poison-pen puzzle, as it came to be known in the department, first +bobbed up some six months before Allison tackled it. At least, that was +when it came to the attention of the Postal Inspection Service. It's +more than likely that the letters had been arriving for some time +previous to that, because one of the beauties of any blackmailing +scheme--such as this one appeared to be--is that 90 per cent of the +victims fear to bring the matter to the attention of the law. They much +prefer to suffer in silence, kicking in with the amounts demanded, than +to risk the exposure of their family skeletons by appealing to the +proper authorities. + +A man by the name of Tyson, who lived in Madison, Wisconsin, was the +first to complain. He informed the postmaster in his city that his wife +had received two letters, apparently in a feminine handwriting, which he +considered to be very thinly veiled attempts at blackmailing. + +Neither of the letters was long. Just a sentence or two. But their +ingenuity lay in what they suggested rather than in their actual +threats. + +The first one read: + + Does your husband know the details of that trip to Fond du + Lac? He might be interested in what Hastings has to tell him. + +The second, which arrived some ten days later, announced: + + The photograph of the register of a certain hotel in Fond du + Lac for June 8 might be of interest to your husband--who can + tell? + +That was all there was to them, but it doesn't take an expert in plot +building to think of a dozen stories that could lie back of that +supposedly clandestine trip on the eighth of June. + +Tyson didn't go into particulars at the time. He contented himself with +turning the letters over to the department, with the request that the +matter be looked into at once. Said that his wife had handed them to him +and that he knew nothing more about the matter. + +All that the postal authorities could do at the time was to instruct him +to bring in any subsequent communications. But, as the letters stopped +suddenly and Tyson absolutely refused to state whether he knew of anyone +who might be interested in causing trouble between his wife and himself, +there was nothing further to be done. Tracing a single letter, or even +two of them, is like looking for a certain star on a clear night--you've +got to know where to look before you have a chance of finding it--and +the postmark on the letters wasn't of the least assistance. + +Some three or four weeks later a similar case cropped up. This time it +was a woman who brought in the letters--a woman who was red-eyed from +lack of sleep and worry. Again the communications referred to a definite +escapade, but still they made no open demand for money. + +By the time the third case cropped up the postal authorities in Madison +were appealing to Washington for assistance. Before Bolton and Clarke, +the two inspectors originally assigned to the case, could reach the +Wisconsin capital another set of the mysterious communications had been +received and called to the attention of the department. + +During the three months which followed no less than six complaints were +filed, all of them alleging the receipt of veiled threats, and neither +the local authorities nor the men from Washington could find a single +nail on which to hang a theory. Finally affairs reached such a stage +that the chief sent for Allison, who had already made something of a +name for himself, and told him to get on the job. + +"Better make the first train for Madison," were the directions which +Elmer received. "So far as we can tell, this appears to be the scheme of +some crazy woman, intent upon causing domestic disturbances, rather than +a well-laid blackmailing plot. There's no report of any actual demand +for money. Just threats or suggestions of revelations which would cause +family dissension. I don't have to tell you that it's wise to keep the +whole business away from the papers as long as you can. They'll get next +to it some time, of course, but if we can keep it quiet until we've +landed the author of the notes it'll be a whole lot better for the +reputation of the department. + +"Bolton and Clarke are in Madison now, but their reports are far from +satisfactory, so you better do a little investigating of your own. +You'll have full authority to handle the case any way that you see fit. +All we ask is action--before somebody stirs up a real row about the +inefficiency of the Service and all that rot." + +Elmer smiled grimly, knowing the difficulties under which the department +worked, difficulties which make it hard for any bureau to obtain the +full facts in a case without being pestered by politicians and harried +by local interests which are far from friendly. For this reason you +seldom know that Uncle Sam is conducting an investigation until the +whole thing is over and done with and the results are ready to be +presented to the grand jury. Premature publicity has ruined many cases +and prevented many a detective from landing the men he's after, which +was the reason that Allison slipped into town on rubber heels, and his +appearance at the office of the postmaster was the first indication that +official had of his arrival. + +"Mr. Gordon," said Allison, after they had completed the usual +preliminaries connected with credentials and so forth, "I want to tackle +this case just as if I were the first man who had been called in. I +understand that comparatively little progress has been made--" + +"'Comparatively little' is good," chuckled the postmaster. + +"And I don't wish to be hindered by any erroneous theories which may +have been built up. So if you don't mind we'll run over the whole thing +from the beginning." + +"Well," replied the postmaster, "you know about the Tyson letters and--" + +"I don't know about a thing," Elmer cut in. "Or at least we'll work on +the assumption that I don't. Then I'll be sure not to miss any points +and at the same time I'll get a fresh outline of the entire situation." + +Some two hours later Postmaster Gordon finished his résumé of the +various cases which were puzzling the police and the postal officials, +for a number of the best men on the police force had been quietly at +work trying to trace the poison-pen letters. + +"Are these all the letters that have been received?" Allison inquired, +indicating some thirty communications which lay before him on the desk. + +"All that have been called to the attention of this office. Of course, +there's no telling how many more have been written, about which no +complaint has been made. Knowing human nature, I should say that at +least three times that number have been received and possibly paid for. +But the recipients didn't report the matter--for reasons best known to +themselves. As a matter of fact--But you're not interested in gossip." + +"I most certainly am!" declared Allison. "When you're handling a matter +of this kind, where back-stairs intrigue and servants-hall talk is +likely to play a large part, gossip forms a most important factor. What +does Dame Rumor say in this case?" + +"So far as these letters are concerned, nothing at all. Certain +influences, which it's hardly necessary to explain in detail, have kept +this affair out of the papers--but gossip has it that at least three +divorces within as many months have been caused by the receipt of +anonymous letters, and that there are a number of other homes which are +on the verge of being broken up for a similar reason." + +"That would appear to bear out your contention that other people have +received letters like these, but preferred to take private action upon +them. Also that, if blackmail were attempted, it sometimes +failed--otherwise the matter wouldn't have gotten as far as the divorce +court." + +Then, after a careful study of several of the sample letters on the +desk, Allison continued, "I suppose you have noted the fact that no two +of these appear to have been written by the same person?" + +"Yes, but that is a point upon which handwriting experts fail to agree. +Some of them claim that each was written by a different person. Others +maintain that one woman was responsible for all of them, and a third +school holds that either two or three people wrote them. What're you +going to do when experts disagree?" + +"Don't worry about any of 'em," retorted Allison. "If we're successful +at all we won't have much trouble in proving our case without the +assistance of a bunch of so-called experts who only gum up the testimony +with long words that a jury can't understand. Where are the envelopes in +which these letters were mailed?" + +"Most of the people who brought them in failed to keep the envelopes. +But we did manage to dig up a few. Here they are," and the postmaster +tossed over a packet of about half a dozen, of various shapes and sizes. + +"Hum!" mused the postal operative, "all comparatively inexpensive +stationery. Might have been bought at nearly any corner drug store. Any +clue in the postmarks?" + +"Not the slightest. As you will note, they were mailed either at the +central post office or at the railroad station--places so public that +it's impossible to keep a strict watch for the person who mailed 'em. In +one case--that of the Osgoods--we cautioned the wife to say nothing +whatever about the matter, and then ordered every clerk in the post +office to look out for letters in that handwriting which might be +slipped through the slot. In fact, we closed all the slots save one and +placed a man on guard inside night and day." + +"Well, what happened?" inquired Allison, a trifle impatiently, as the +postmaster paused. + +"The joke was on us. Some two days later a letter which looked +suspiciously like these was mailed. Our man caught it in time to dart +outside and nail the person who posted it. Fortunately we discovered +that she was Mrs. Osgood's sister-in-law and that the letter was a +perfectly innocent one." + +"No chance of her being mixed up in the affair?" + +"No. Her husband is a prominent lawyer here, and, besides, we've watched +every move she's made since that time. She's one of the few people in +town that we're certain of." + +"Yet, you say her handwriting was similar to that which appears on these +letters?" + +"Yes, that's one of the many puzzling phases of the whole matter. Every +single letter is written in a hand which closely resembles that of a +relative of the person to whom it is addressed! So much so, in fact, +that at least four of the complainants have insisted upon the arrest of +these relatives, and have been distinctly displeased at our refusal to +place them in jail merely because their handwriting is similar to that +of a blackmailer." + +"Why do you say blackmailer? Do you know of any demand for money which +has been made?" + +"Not directly--but what other purpose could a person have than to +extract money? They'd hardly run the risk of going to the pen in order +to gratify a whim for causing trouble." + +"How about the Tysons and the Osgoods and the other people who brought +these letters in--didn't they receive subsequent demands for money?" + +"They received nothing--not another single letter of any kind." + +"You mean that the simple fact of making a report to your office +appeared to stop the receipt of the threats." + +"Precisely. Now that you put it that way, it does look odd. But that's +what happened." + +Allison whistled. This was the first ray of light that had penetrated a +very dark and mysterious case, and, with its aid, he felt that he might, +after all, be successful. + +Contenting himself with a few more questions, including the names of +the couples whom gossip stated had been separated through the receipt of +anonymous communications, Allison bundled the letters together and +slipped them into his pocket. + +"It's quite possible," he stated, as he opened the door leading out of +the postmaster's private office, "that you won't hear anything more from +me for some time. I hardly think it would be wise to report here too +often, or that if you happen to run into me on the street that you would +register recognition. I won't be using the name of Allison, anyhow, but +that of Gregg--Alvin Gregg--who has made a fortune in the operation of +chain stores and is looking over the field with a view to establishing +connections here. Gregg, by the way, is stopping at the Majestic Hotel, +if you care to reach him," and with that he was gone. + +Allison's first move after establishing his identity at the hotel, was +to send a wire to a certain Alice Norcross in Chicago--a wire which +informed her that "My sister, Mrs. Mabel Kennedy, requests your presence +in Madison, Wisconsin. Urgent and immediate." The signature was "Alvin +Gregg, E. A.," and to an inquisitive telegraph operator who inquired the +meaning of the initials, Allison replied: "Electrical Assistant, of +course," and walked away before the matter could be further discussed. + +The next evening Mrs. Mabel Kennedy registered at the Majestic Hotel, +and went up to the room which Mr. Gregg had reserved for her--the one +next to his. + +"It's all right, Alice," he informed her a few moments later, after a +careful survey had satisfied him that the hall was clear of prying ears. +"I told them all about you--that you were my sister 'n' everything. So +it's quite respectable." + +"Mrs. Kennedy," or Alice Norcross, as she was known to the members of +the Postal Service whom she had assisted on more than one occasion when +the services of a woman with brains were demanded, merely smiled and +continued to fix her hair before the mirror. + +"I'm not worrying about that," she replied. "You boys can always be +trusted to arrange the details--but traveling always did play the +dickens with my hair! What's the idea, anyhow? Why am I Mrs. Mabel +Kennedy, and what's she supposed to do?" + +In a few words Allison outlined what he was up against--evidently the +operation of a very skillful gang of blackmailers who were not only +perfectly sure of their facts, but who didn't run any risks until their +victims were too thoroughly cowed to offer any resistance. + +"The only weak spot in the whole plan," concluded the operative, "is +that the letters invariably cease when the prospective victims lay their +case before the postmaster." + +"You mean that you think he's implicated?" + +"No--but some one in his office is!" snapped Allison. "Else how would +they know when to lay off? That's the only lead we have, and I don't +want to work from it, but up to it. Do you know anyone who's socially +prominent in Madison?" + +"Not a soul, but it's no trick to get letters of introduction--even for +Mrs. Mabel Kennedy." + +"Fine! Go to it! The minute you get 'em start a social campaign here. +Stage several luncheons, bridge parties, and the like. Be sure to create +the impression of a woman of means--and if you can drop a few hints +about your none too spotless past, so much the better." + +"You want to draw their fire, eh?" + +"Precisely. It's unfortunate that we can't rig up a husband for +you--that would make things easier, but when it's known that I, Alvin +Gregg, am your brother, I think it's more than likely that they'll risk +a couple of shots." + +It was about a month later that Mrs. Kennedy called up her brother at +the Hotel Majestic and asked him to come over to her apartment at once. + +"Something stirring?" inquired Allison as he entered the drawing-room of +the suite which his assistant had rented in order to bolster up her +social campaign. + +"The first nibble," replied the girl, holding out a sheet of +violet-tinted paper, on which appeared the words: + + Of course your brother and your friends know all about the + night you spent alone with a certain man in a cabin in the + Sierras? + +"Great Scott!" ejaculated Allison. "Do you mean to say it worked?" + +"Like clockwork," was the girl's reply. "Acting on your instructions, I +made a special play for Snaith, the postmaster's confidential secretary +and general assistant. I invited him to several of my parties and paid +particular attention to what I said when he was around. The first night +I got off some clever little remark about conventions--laughing at the +fact that it was all right for a woman to spend a day with a man, but +hardly respectable for her to spend the evening. The next time he was +there--and he was the only one in the party who had been present on the +previous occasion--I turned the conversation to snowstorms and admitted +that I had once been trapped in a storm in the Sierra Nevadas and had +been forced to spend the night in a cabin. But I didn't say anything +then about any companion. The third evening--when an entirely different +crowd, with the exception of Snaith, was present--some one brought up +the subject of what constitutes a gentleman, and my contribution was a +speech to the effect that 'one never knows what a man is until he is +placed in a position where his brute instincts would naturally come to +the front.' + +"Not a single one of those remarks was incriminating or even +suspicious--but it didn't take a master mind to add them together and +make this note! Snaith was the only man who could add them, because he +was the only one who was present when they were all made!" + +"Fine work!" applauded Allison. "But there's one point you've +overlooked. This letter, unlike the rest of its kind, is postmarked +Kansas City, while Snaith was here day before yesterday when this was +mailed. I know, because Clarke's been camping on his trail for the past +three weeks." + +"Then that means--" + +"That Snaith is only one of the gang--the stool-pigeon--or, in this +case, the lounge-lizard--who collects the information and passes it on +to his chief? Exactly. Now, having Mr. Snaith where I want him and +knowing pretty well how to deal with his breed, I think the rest will be +easy. I knew that somebody in the postmaster's office must be mixed up +in the affair and your very astute friend was the most likely prospect. +Congratulations on landing him so neatly!" + +"Thanks," said the girl, "but what next?" + +"For you, not a thing. You've handled your part to perfection. The rest +is likely to entail a considerable amount of strong-arm work, and I'd +rather not have you around. Might cramp my style." + +That night--or, rather, about three o'clock on the following +morning--Sylvester Snaith, confidential secretary to the postmaster of +Madison, was awakened by the sound of some one moving stealthily about +the bedroom of his bachelor apartment. Before he could utter a sound +the beam of light from an electric torch blazed in his eyes and a curt +voice from the darkness ordered him to put up his hands. Then: + +"What do you know about the anonymous letters which have been sent to a +number of persons in this city?" demanded the voice. + +"Not--not a thing," stammered the clerk, trying to collect his badly +scattered senses. + +"That's a lie! We know that you supplied the information upon which +those letters were based! Now come through with the whole dope or, by +hell I'll--" the blue-steel muzzle of an automatic which was visible +just outside the path of light from the torch completed the threat. +Snaith, thoroughly cowed, "came through"--told more than even Allison +had hoped for when he had planned the night raid on a man whom he had +sized up as a physical coward. + +Less than an hour after the secretary had finished, Elmer was on his way +to Kansas City, armed with information which he proceeded to lay before +the chief of police. + +"'Spencerian Peter,' eh?" grunted the chief. "Sure, I know where to lay +my hands on him--been watching him more or less ever since he got out of +Leavenworth a couple of years back. But I never connected him with this +case." + +"What do you mean--this case?" demanded Allison. "Did you know anything +about the poison-pen letters in Madison?" + +"Madison? No--but I know about the ones that have set certain people +here by the ears for the past month. I thought that was what you wanted +him for. Evidently the game isn't new." + +"Far from it," Elmer replied. "I don't know how much he cleaned up in +Wisconsin, but I'll bet he got away with a nice pile. Had a social pet +there, who happened to be the postmaster's right-hand man, collect the +scandal for him and then he'd fix up the letters--faking some relative's +handwriting with that infernal skill of his. Then his Man Friday would +tip him off when they made a holler to headquarters and he'd look for +other suckers rather than run the risk of getting the department on his +trail by playing the same fish too long. That's what finally gave him +away--that and the fact that his assistant was bluffed by an electric +torch and an empty gun." + +"Well, I'll be hanged," muttered the chief. "You might have been +explaining the situation here--except that we don't know who his society +informant is. I think we better drop in for a call on 'Spencerian' this +evening." + + * * * * * + +"The call was made on scheduled time," Quinn concluded, "but it was +hardly of a social nature. You wouldn't expect a post-office operative, +a chief of police, and half a dozen cops to stage a pink tea. Their +methods are inclined to be a trifle more abrupt--though Pete, as it +happened, didn't attempt to pull any rough stuff. He dropped his gun the +moment he saw how many guests were present, and it wasn't very long +before they presented him with a formal invitation to resume his none +too comfortable but extremely exclusive apartment in Leavenworth. +Snaith, being only an accomplice, got off with two years. The man who +wrote the letters and who was the principal beneficiary of the money +which they produced, drew ten." + +"And who got the credit for solving the puzzle?" I inquired. "Allison or +the Norcross girl?" + +"Allison," replied Quinn. "Alice Norcross only worked on condition that +her connection with the Service be kept quite as much of a secret as +the fact that her real name was Mrs. Elmer Allison." + +"What? She was Allison's wife?" I demanded. + +"Quite so," said the former operative. "If you don't believe me, there's +a piece of her wedding dress draped over that picture up there," and he +pointed to a strip of white silk that hung over one of the framed +photographs on the wall. + +"But I thought you said--" + +"That that was part of the famous thirty thousand yards which was nailed +just after it had been smuggled across the Canadian border? I did. But +Allison got hold of a piece of it and had it made up into a dress for +Alice. So that bit up there has a double story. You know one of them. +Remind me to tell you the other sometime." + + + + +XVIII + +THIRTY THOUSAND YARDS OF SILK + + +"I'd sure like to lead the life of one of those fictional detective +heroes," muttered Bill Quinn, formerly of the United States Secret +Service, as he tossed aside the latest volume of crime stories that had +come to his attention. "Nothing to do but trail murderers and find the +person who lifted the diamond necklace and stuff of that kind. They +never have a case that isn't interesting or, for that matter, one in +which they aren't successful. Must be a great life!" + +"But aren't the detective stories of real life interesting and +oftentimes exciting?" I inquired, adding that those which Quinn had +already told me indicated that the career of a government operative was +far from being deadly monotonous. + +"Some of them are," he admitted, "but many of them drag along for months +or even years, sometimes petering out for pure lack of evidence. Those, +of course, are the cases you never hear of--the ones where Uncle Sam's +men fall down on the job. Oh yes, they're fallible, all right. They +can't solve every case--any more than a doctor can save the life of +every patient he attends. But their percentage, though high, doesn't +approach the success of your Sherlock Holmeses and your Thinking +Machines, your Gryces and Sweetwaters and Lecoqs." + +"How is it, then, that every story you've told dealt with the success +of a government agent--never with his failure?" + +Quinn smiled reminiscently for a moment. + +Then, "What do doctors do with their mistakes?" he asked. "They bury +'em. And that's what any real detective will do--try to forget, except +for hoping that some day he'll run up against the man who tricked him. +Again, most of the yarns I've told you revolved around some of the +relics of this room"--waving his hand to indicate the walls of his +library--"and these are all mementoes of successful cases. There's no +use in keeping the other kind. Failures are too common and brains too +scarce. That bit of silk up there--" + +"Oh yes," I interrupted, "the one that formed part of Alice Norcross's +wedding dress." + +"And figured in one of the most sensational plots to defraud the +government that was ever uncovered," added Quinn. "If Ezra Marks hadn't +located that shipment I wouldn't have had that piece of silk and there +wouldn't be any story to tell. So you see, it's really a circle, after +all." + + * * * * * + +Marks [Quinn went on] was one of the few men connected with any branch +of the government organizations who really lived up to the press-agent +notices of the detectives you read about. In the first place, he looked +like he might have stepped out of a book--big and long-legged and lanky. +A typical Yankee, with all of the New-Englander's shrewdness and common +sense. If you turned Ezra loose on a case you could be sure that he +wouldn't sit down and try to work it out by deduction. Neither would he +plunge in and attempt by sheer bravado and gun play to put the thing +over. He'd mix the two methods and, more often than not, come back with +the answer. + +Then, too, Marks had the very happy faculty of drawing assignments that +turned out to be interesting. Maybe it was luck, but more than likely it +was because he followed plans that made 'em so--preferring to wait until +he had all the strings to a case and then stage a big round-up of the +people implicated. You remember the case of the Englishman who smuggled +uncut diamonds in the bowl of his pipe and the one you wrote under the +title of "Wah Lee and the Flower of Heaven"? Well, those were typical of +Ezra's methods--the first was almost entirely analytical, the second +mainly gun play plus a painstaking survey of the field he had to cover. + +But when Marks was notified that it was up to him to find out who was +running big shipments of valuable silks across the Canadian border, +without the formality of visiting the customhouse and making the +customary payments, he found it advisable to combine the two courses. + +It was through a wholesale dealer in silks in Seattle, Washington, that +the Customs Service first learned of the arrival of a considerable +quantity of this valuable merchandise, offered through certain +underground channels at a price which clearly labeled it as smuggled. +Possibly the dealer was peeved because he didn't learn of the shipment +in time to secure any of it. But his reasons for calling the affair to +the attention of the Treasury Department don't really matter. The main +idea was that the silk was there, that it hadn't paid duty, and that +some one ought to find out how it happened. + +When a second and then a third shipment was reported, Marks was notified +by wire to get to Seattle as fast as he could, and there to confer with +the Collector of the Port. + +It wasn't until after he had arrived that Ezra knew what the trouble +was, for the story of the smuggled silk hadn't penetrated as far south +as San Francisco, where he had been engaged in trying to find a cargo of +smuggled coolies. + +"Here's a sample of the silk," announced the Collector of the Port at +Seattle, producing a piece of very heavy material, evidently of foreign +manufacture. "Beyond the fact that we've spotted three of the shipments +and know where to lay our hands on them if wanted, I've got to admit +that we don't know a thing about the case. The department, of course, +doesn't want us to trace the silk from this end. The minute you do that +you lay yourself open to all sorts of legal tangles and delays--to say +nothing of giving the other side plenty of time to frame up a case that +would sound mighty good in court. Besides, I haven't enough men to +handle the job in the short space of time necessary. So you'll have to +dig into it and find out who got the stuff in and how. Then we'll attend +to the fences who've been handling it here." + +"The old game of passing the buck," thought Ezra, as he fingered the +sample of silk meditatively. "I'll do the work and they'll get the +glory. Oh, well--" + +"Any idea of where the shipments came from?" he inquired. + +"There's no doubt but that it's of Japanese manufacture, which, of +course, would appear to point to a shipping conspiracy of some nature. +But I hardly think that's true here. Already eighteen bolts of silk have +been reported in Seattle, and, as you know, that's a pretty good sized +consignment. You couldn't stuff 'em into a pill box or carry 'em inside +a walking stick, like you could diamonds. Whoever's handling this job is +doing it across the border, rather than via the shipping route." + +"No chance of a slip-up in your information, is there, Chief?" Ezra +inquired, anxiously. "I'd hate to start combing the border and then +find that the stuff was being slipped in through the port." + +"No," and the Collector of Customs was positive in his reply. "I'm not +taking a chance on that tip. I know what I'm talking about. My men have +been watching the shipping like hawks. Ever since that consignment of +antique ivory got through last year we've gone over every vessel with a +microscope, probing the mattresses and even pawing around in the coal +bins. I'm positive that there isn't a place big enough to conceal a yard +of silk that the boys haven't looked into--to say nothing of eighteen +bolts. + +"Besides," added the Collector, "the arrival of the silk hasn't +coincided with the arrival of any of the ships from Japan--not by any +stretch of the imagination." + +"All right, I'll take up the trail northward then," replied Marks. +"Don't be surprised if you fail to hear from me for a couple of months +or more. If Washington inquires, tell them that I'm up on the border +somewhere and let it go at that." + +"Going to take anybody with you?" + +"Not a soul, except maybe a guide that I'll pick up when I need him. If +there is a concerted movement to ship silk across the line--and it +appears that there is--the more men you have working with you the less +chance there is for success. Border runners are like moonshiners, +they're not afraid of one man, but if they see a posse they run for +cover and keep out of sight until the storm blows over. And there isn't +one chance in a thousand of finding 'em meanwhile. You've got to play +them, just like you would a fish, so the next time you hear from me you +will know that I've either landed my sharks or that they've slipped off +the hook!" + +It was about a month later that the little town of Northport, up in the +extreme northeastern corner of Washington, awoke to find a stranger in +its midst. Strangers were something of a novelty in Northport, and this +one--a man named Marks, who stated that he was "prospectin' for some +good lumber"--caused quite a bit of talk for a day or two. Then the town +gossips discovered that he was not working in the interest of a large +company, as had been rumored, but solely on his own hook, so they left +him severely alone. Besides, it was the height of the logging season and +there was too much work to be done along the Columbia River to worry +about strangers. + +Marks hadn't taken this into consideration when he neared the eastern +part of the state, but he was just as well pleased. If logs and logging +served to center the attention of the natives elsewhere, so much the +better. It would give him greater opportunity for observation and +possibly the chance to pick up some information. Up to this time his +trip along the border had been singularly uneventful and lacking in +results. In fact, it was practically a toss-up with him whether he would +continue on into Idaho and Montana, on the hope that he would find +something there, or go back to Seattle and start fresh. + +However, he figured that it wouldn't do any harm to spend a week or two +in the neighborhood of the Columbia--and, as events turned out, it was a +very wise move. + +Partly out of curiosity and partly because it was in keeping with his +self-assumed character of lumber prospector, Marks made a point of +joining the gangs of men who worked all day and sometimes long into the +night keeping the river clear of log jams and otherwise assisting in the +movement of timber downstream. Like everyone who views these operations +for the first time, he marveled at the dexterity of the loggers who +perched upon the treacherous slippery trunks with as little thought for +danger as if they had been crossing a country road. But their years of +familiarity with the current and the logs themselves had given them a +sense of balance which appeared to inure them to peril. + +Nor was this ability to ride logs confined wholly to the men. Some of +the girls from the near-by country often worked in with the men, +handling the lighter jobs and attending to details which did not call +for the possession of a great amount of strength. + +One of these, Marks noted, was particularly proficient in her work. +Apparently there wasn't a man in Northport who could give her points in +log riding, and the very fact that she was small and wiry provided her +with a distinct advantage over men who were twice her weight. Apart from +her grace and beauty, there was something extremely appealing about the +girl, and Ezra found himself watching her time after time as she almost +danced across the swirling, bark-covered trunks--hardly seeming to touch +them as she moved. + +The girl was by no means oblivious of the stranger's interest in her +ability to handle at least a part of the men's work. She caught his eye +the very first day he came down to the river, and after that, whenever +she noted that he was present she seemed to take a new delight in +skipping lightly from log to log, lingering on each just long enough to +cause it to spin dangerously and then leaping to the next. + +But one afternoon she tried the trick once too often. Either she +miscalculated her distance or a sudden swirl of the current carried the +log for which she was aiming out of her path, for her foot just touched +it, slipped and, before she could recover her balance, she was in the +water--surrounded by logs that threatened to crush the life out of her +at any moment. + +Startled by her cry for help, three of the lumbermen started toward +her--but the river, like a thing alive, appeared to thwart their efforts +by opening up a rift in the jam on either side, leaving a gap too wide +to be leaped, and a current too strong to be risked by men who were +hampered by their heavy hobnailed shoes. + +Marks, who had been watching the girl, had his coat off almost as soon +as she hit the water. An instant later he had discarded his shoes and +had plunged in, breasting the river with long overhand strokes that +carried him forward at an almost unbelievable speed. Before the men on +the logs knew what was happening, the operative was beside the girl, +using one hand to keep her head above water, and the other to fend off +the logs which were closing in from every side. + +"Quick!" he called. "A rope! A--" but the trunk of a tree, striking his +head a glancing blow, cut short his cry and forced him to devote every +atom of his strength to remaining afloat until assistance arrived. After +an interval which appeared to be measured in hours, rather than seconds, +a rope splashed within reach and the pair were hauled to safety. + +The girl, apparently unhurt by her drenching, shook herself like a wet +spaniel and then turned to where Marks was seated, trying to recover his +breath. + +"Thanks," she said, extending her hand. "I don't know who you are, +stranger, but you're a man!" + +"It wasn't anything to make a fuss about," returned Ezra, rising and +turning suspiciously red around the ears, for it was the first time that +a girl had spoken to him in that way for more years than he cared to +remember. Then, with the Vermont drawl that always came to the surface +when he was excited or embarrassed, he added: "It was worth gettin' wet +to have you speak like that." + +This time it was the girl who flushed, and, with a palpable effort to +cover her confusion, she turned away, stopping to call back over her +shoulder, "If you'll come up to dad's place to-night I'll see that +you're properly thanked." + +"Dad's place?" repeated Ezra to one of the men near by. "Where's that?" + +"She means her stepfather's house up the river," replied the lumberman. +"You can't miss it. Just this side the border. Ask anybody where Old Man +Petersen lives." + +Though the directions were rather vague, Marks started "up the river" +shortly before sunset, and found but little difficulty in locating the +big house--half bungalow and half cabin--where Petersen and his +stepdaughter resided, in company with half a dozen foremen of lumber +gangs, and an Indian woman who had acted as nurse and chaperon and cook +and general servant ever since the death of the girl's mother a number +of years before. + +While he was still stumbling along, trying to pierce the gloom which +settled almost instantly after sunset, Marks was startled to see a white +figure rise suddenly before him and to hear a feminine voice remark, "I +wondered if you'd come." + +"Didn't you know I would?" replied Ezra. "Your spill in the river had me +scared stiff for a moment, but it was a mighty lucky accident for me." + +At the girl's suggestion they seated themselves outside, being joined +before long by Petersen himself, who, with more than a trace of his +Slavic ancestry apparent in his voice, thanked Marks for rescuing his +daughter. It was when the older man left them and the girl's figure was +outlined with startling distinctness by the light from the open door, +that Ezra received a shock which brought him to earth with a crash. + +In the semidarkness he had been merely aware that the girl was wearing a +dress which he would have characterized as "something white." But once +he saw her standing in the center of the path of light which streamed +from the interior of the house there could be no mistake. + +The dress was of white silk! + +More than that, it was made from material which Marks would have sworn +had been cut from the same bolt as the sample which the Collector had +shown him in Seattle! + +"What's the matter, Mr. Marks?" inquired the girl, evidently noting the +surprise which Ezra was unable completely to suppress. "Seen a ghost or +something?" + +"I thought for a moment I had," was the operative's reply, as he played +for time. "It must be your dress. My--my sister had one just like it +once." + +"It is rather pretty, isn't it? In spite of the fact that I made it +myself--out of some silk that dad--that dad brought home." + +Ezra thought it best to change the subject, and as soon as he could find +the opportunity said good night, with a promise to be on hand the next +day to see that the plunge in the river wasn't repeated. + +But the next morning he kept as far away from the girl--Fay Petersen--as +he could, without appearing to make a point of the matter. He had +thought the whole thing over from every angle and his conclusion was +always the same. The Petersens were either hand in glove with the gang +that was running the silk across the border or they were doing the +smuggling themselves. The lonely cabin, the proximity to the border, the +air of restraint which he had noted the previous evening (based +principally upon the fact that he had not been invited indoors), the +silk dress--all were signs which pointed at least to a knowledge of the +plot to beat the customs. + +More than that, when Marks commenced to make some guarded inquiries +about the family of the girl whom he had saved from drowning, he met +with a decidedly cool reception. + +"Old Man Petersen has some big loggin' interests in these parts," +declared the most loquacious of his informants, "an' they say he's made +a pile o' money in the last few months. Some say it's timber an' others +say it's--well, it ain't nobody's concern how a man makes a livin' in +these parts, s'long as he behaves himself." + +"Isn't Petersen behaving himself?" asked Ezra. + +"Stranger," was the reply, "it ain't always healthy to pry into another +man's affairs. Better be satisfied with goin' to see the girl. That's +more than anybody around here's allowed to do." + +"So there was an air of mystery about the Petersen house, after all!" +Marks thought. It hadn't been his imagination or an idea founded solely +upon the sight of the silk dress! + +The next fortnight found the operative a constant and apparently a +welcome visitor at the house up the river. But, hint as he might, he was +never asked indoors--a fact that made him all the more determined to see +what was going on. While he solaced himself with the thought that his +visits were made strictly in the line of duty, that his only purpose was +to discover Petersen's connection with the smuggled silk, Ezra was +unable entirely to stifle another feeling--something which he hadn't +known since the old days in Vermont, when the announcement of a girl's +wedding to another man had caused him to leave home and seek his +fortunes in Boston. + +Fay Petersen was pretty. There was no denying that fact. Also she was +very evidently prepossessed in favor of the man who had saved her from +the river. But this fact, instead of soothing Marks's conscience, only +irritated it the more. Here he was on the verge of making love to a +girl--really in love with her, as he admitted to himself--and at the +same time planning and hoping to send her stepfather to the +penitentiary. He had hoped that the fact that Petersen was not her own +father might make things a little easier for him, but the girl had shown +in a number of ways that she was just as fond of her foster-parent as +she would have been of her own. + +"He's all the daddy I ever knew," she said one night, "and if anything +ever happened to him I think it would drive me crazy," which fell far +short of easing Ezra's mind, though it strengthened his determination to +settle the matter definitely. + +The next evening that he visited the Petersens he left a little earlier +than usual, and only followed the road back to Northport sufficiently +far to make certain that he was not being trailed. Then retracing his +steps, he approached the house from the rear, his soft moccasins moving +silently across the ground, his figure crouched until he appeared little +more than a shadow between the trees. + +Just as he reached the clearing which separated the dwelling from the +woods, he stumbled and almost fell. His foot had caught against +something which felt like the trunk of a fallen tree, but which moved +with an ease entirely foreign to a log of that size. + +Puzzled, Marks waited until a cloud which had concealed the moon had +drifted by, and then commenced his examination. Yes, it was a log--and a +big one, still damp from its immersion in the river. But it was so light +that he could lift it unaided and it rang to a rap from his knuckles. +The end which he first examined was solid, but at the other end the log +was a mere shell, not more than an inch of wood remaining inside the +bark. + +It was not until he discovered a round plug of wood--a stopper, which +fitted precisely into the open end of the log--that the solution of the +whole mystery dawned upon him. The silk had been shipped across the +border from Canada inside the trunks of trees, hollowed out for the +purpose! Wrapping the bolts in oiled silk would keep them perfectly +waterproof and the plan was so simple as to be impervious to detection, +save by accident. + +Emboldened by his discovery, Marks slipped silently across the cleared +space to the shadow of the house, and thence around to the side, where a +few cautious cuts of his bowie knife opened a peep hole in the shutter +which covered the window. Through this he saw what he had hoped for, yet +feared to find--Petersen and three of his men packing bolts of white +silk in boxes for reshipment. What was more, he caught snatches of their +conversation which told him that another consignment of the smuggled +goods was due from Trail, just across the border, within the week. + +Retreating as noiselessly as he had come, Marks made his way back to +Northport, where he wrote two letters--or, rather, a letter and a note. +The first, addressed to the sheriff, directed that personage to collect +a posse and report to Ezra Marks, of the Customs Service, on the second +day following. This was forwarded by special messenger, but Marks +pocketed the note and slipped it cautiously under the door of the +Petersen house the next evening. + +"It's a fifty-fifty split," he consoled his conscience. "The government +gets the silk and the Petersens get their warning. I don't suppose I'll +get anything but the devil for not landing them!" + +The next morning when the sheriff and his posse arrived they found, only +an empty house, but in the main room were piled boxes containing no less +than thirty thousand yards of white silk--valued at something over one +hundred thousand dollars. On top of the boxes was an envelope addressed +to Ezra Marks, Esq., and within it a note which read, "I don't know who +you are, Mr. Customs Officer, but you're a man!" + +There was no signature, but the writing was distinctly feminine. + + * * * * * + +"And was that all Marks ever heard from her?" I asked, when Quinn +paused. + +"So far as I know," said the former operative. "Of course, Washington +never heard about that part of the case. They were too well satisfied +with Ezra's haul and the incoming cargo, which they also landed, to care +much about the Petersens. So the whole thing was entered on Marks's +record precisely as he had figured it--a fifty-fifty split. You see, +even government agents aren't always completely successful--especially +when they're fighting Cupid as well as crooks!" + + + + +XIX + +THE CLUE IN THE CLASSIFIED COLUMN + + +Quinn tossed his evening paper aside with a gesture in which disgust was +mingled in equal proportion with annoyance. + +"Why is it," he inquired, testily, "that some fools never learn +anything?" + +"Possibly that's because they're fools," I suggested. "What's the +trouble now?" + +"Look at that!" And the former Secret Service operative recovered the +paper long enough to indicate a short news item near the bottom of the +first page--an item which bore the headline, "New Fifty-Dollar +Counterfeit Discovered." + +"Yes," I agreed, "there always are people foolish enough to change bills +without examining them any too closely. But possibly this one is very +cleverly faked." + +"Fools not to examine them!" echoed Quinn. "That isn't the direction in +which the idiocy lies. The fools are the people who think they can +counterfeit Uncle Sam's currency and get away with it. Barnum must have +been right. There's a sucker born every minute--and those that don't try +to beat the ponies or buck the stock market turn to counterfeiting for a +living. They get it, too, in Leavenworth or Atlanta or some other place +that maintains a federal penitentiary. + +"They never seem to learn anything by others' experience, either. You'd +think, after the Thurene case, it would be perfectly apparent that no +one could beat the counterfeiting game for long." + +"The Thurene case? I don't seem to remember that. The name is unusual, +but--" + +"Yes, and that wasn't the only part of the affair that was out of the +ordinary," Quinn cut in. "Spencer Graham also contributed some work that +was well off the beaten path--not forgetting the assistance rendered by +a certain young woman." + + * * * * * + +Probably the most remarkable portion of the case [continued Quinn] was +the fact that Graham didn't get in on it until Thurene had been +arrested. Nevertheless, if it hadn't been for his work in breaking +through an ironclad alibi the government might have been left high and +dry, with a trunkful of suspicions and mighty little else. + +Somewhere around the latter part of August the New York branch of the +Secret Service informed Washington that a remarkably clever counterfeit +fifty-dollar bill had turned up in Albany--a bill in which the engraving +was practically perfect and the only thing missing from the paper was +the silk fiber. This, however, was replaced by tiny red and blue lines, +drawn in indelible ink. The finished product was so exceptionally good +that, if it had not been for the lynxlike eyes of a paying teller--plus +the highly developed sense of touch which bank officials accumulate--the +note would have been changed without a moment's hesitation. + +The man who presented it, who happened to be well known to the bank +officials, was informed that the bill was counterfeit and the matter was +reported through the usual channels. A few days later another bill, +evidently from the same batch, was picked up in Syracuse, and from that +time on it rained counterfeits so hard that every teller in the state +threw a fit whenever a fifty-dollar bill came in, either for deposit or +for change. + +Hardly had the flow of upstate counterfeits lessened than the bills +began to make their appearance in and around New York, sometimes in +banks, but more often in the resorts patronized by bookmakers from +Jamaica and the other near-by race tracks. + +The significance of this fact didn't strike the Secret Service men +assigned to the case until the horses had moved southward. The instant +one of the bills was reported in Baltimore two operatives were ordered +to haunt the _pari-mutuel_ booths at Pimlico, with instructions to pay +particular attention to the windows where the larger wagers were laid. +An expert in counterfeits also took up his position inside the cage, to +signal the men outside as soon as a phony bill was presented. + +It was during the rush of the betting after the two-year-olds had gone +to the post for the first race that the signal came--indicating that a +man about forty-five years of age, well dressed and well groomed, had +exchanged two of the counterfeits for a one hundred-dollar ticket on the +favorite. + +Hollister and Sheehan, the Secret Service men, took no chances with +their prey. Neither did they run the risk of arresting him prematurely. +Figuring that it was well within the realms of possibility that he had +received the bills in exchange for other money, and that he was +therefore ignorant of the fact that they were spurious, they contented +themselves with keeping close to him during the race and the interval +which followed. + +When the favorite won, the man they were watching cashed his bet and +stowed his winnings away in a trousers pocket. Then, after a prolonged +examination of the jockeys, the past performances and the weights of +the various horses, he made his way back to the window to place another +bet. + +Again the signal--and this time Hollister and Sheehan closed in on their +man, notifying him that he was under arrest and advising him to come +along without creating any disturbance. + +"Arrest for what?" he demanded. + +"Passing counterfeit money," replied Hollister, flashing his badge. +Then, as the man started to protest, Sheehan counseled him to reserve +his arguments until later, and the trio made their way out of the +inclosure in silence. + +When searched, in Baltimore, two sums of money were found upon the +suspect--one roll in his left-hand trousers pocket being made up of +genuine currency, including that which he had received for picking the +winner of the first race, and the one in the right-hand pocket being +entirely of counterfeit fifty-dollar bills--forty-eight in number. + +When questioned, the prisoner claimed that his name was Robert J. +Thurene of New Haven, and added that there were plenty of people in the +Connecticut city who would vouch for his respectability. + +"Then why," inquired the chief of the Secret Service, who had come over +from Washington to take charge of the case, "do you happen to have two +thousand four hundred dollars in counterfeit money on you?" + +At that moment Thurene dropped his bomb--or, rather, one of the many +which rendered the case far from monotonous. + +"If you'll search my room at the Belvedere," he suggested, "you'll find +some five thousand dollars more." + +"What?" demanded the chief. "Do you admit that you deliberately brought +seven thousand five hundred dollars of counterfeit money here and tried +to pass it?" + +"I admit nothing," corrected the arrested man. "You stated that the +fifty-dollar bills which you found upon me when I was searched against +my will were false. I'll take your word for that. But if they are +counterfeit, I'm merely telling you that there are a hundred more like +them in my room at the hotel." + +"Of course you're willing to state where they came from?" suggested the +chief, who was beginning to sense the fact that something underlay +Thurene's apparent sincerity. + +"Certainly. I found them." + +"Old stuff," sneered one of the operatives standing near by. "Not only +an old alibi, but one which you'll have a pretty hard time proving." + +"Do you happen to have a copy of yesterday's _News_ handy?" Thurene +asked. + +When the paper was produced he turned rapidly to the Lost and Found +column and pointed to an advertisement which appeared there: + + FOUND--An envelope containing a sum of money. Owner may + recover same by notifying Robert J. Thurene, Belvedere Hotel, + and proving property. + +"There," he continued, after reading the advertisement aloud, "that is +the notice which I inserted after finding the money which you say is +counterfeit." + +"Where did you find it?" + +"In the Pennsylvania station, night before last. I had just come in from +New York, and chanced to see the envelope lying under one of the rows of +seats in the center of the waiting room. It attracted my attention, but +when I examined it I was amazed to find that it contained one hundred +and fifty fifty-dollar bills, all apparently brand new. Naturally, I +didn't care to part with the money unless I was certain that I was +giving it up to the rightful owner, so I carried it with me to the hotel +and advertised the loss at once. + +"The next afternoon I went out to the track and found, when it was too +late, that the only money I had with me was that contained in the +envelope. I used a couple of the bills, won, and, being superstitious, +decided to continue betting with that money. That's the reason I used it +this afternoon. Come to think of it, you won't find the original five +thousand dollars in my room. Part of it is the money which I received at +the track and which I replaced in order to make up the sum I found. But +most of the bills are there." + +"You said," remarked the chief, striking another tack, "that your name +is Thurene and that you live in New Haven. What business are you in?" + +"Stationery. You'll find that my rating in Bradstreet's is excellent, +even though my capital may not be large. What's more"--and here the +man's voice became almost aggressive--"any bank in New Haven and any +member of the Chamber of Commerce will vouch for me. I've a record of +ten years there and some ten in Lowell, Mass., which will bear the +closest possible inspection." + +And he was right, at that. + +In the first place, a search of his room at the hotel brought to light a +large official envelope containing just the sum of money he had +mentioned, counterfeit bills and real ones. Secondly, a wire to New +Haven elicited the information that "Robert J. Thurene, answering to +description in inquiry received, has operated a successful stationery +store here for the past ten years. Financial standing excellent. Wide +circle of friends, all of whom vouch for his character and integrity." + +When this wire was forwarded to Washington, the chief having returned +to headquarters, Spencer Graham received a hurry-up call to report in +the main office. There he was informed that he was to take charge of the +Thurene case and see what he could find out. + +"I don't have to tell you," added the chief, "that it's rather a +delicate matter. Either the man is the victim of circumstances--in which +case we'll have to release him with profound apologies and begin all +over again--or he's a mighty clever crook. We can't afford to take any +chances. The case as it finally stands will have to be presented in +court, and, therefore, must be proof against the acid test of shrewd +lawyers for the defense, lawyers who will rely upon the newspaper +advertisement and Thurene's spotless record as indications of his +innocence." + +"That being the case, Chief, why take any chances right now? The case +hasn't gotten into the papers, so why not release Thurene?" + +"And keep him under constant surveillance? That wouldn't be a bad idea. +The moment he started to leave the country we could nab him, and +meanwhile we would have plenty of time to look into the matter. Of +course, there's always the danger of suicide--but that's proof of guilt, +and it would save the Service a lot of work in the long run. Good idea! +We'll do it." + +So it was that Robert J. Thurene of New Haven was released from custody +with the apologies of the Secret Service--who retained the counterfeit +money, but returned the real bills--while Spencer Graham went to work on +the Baltimore end of the case, four operatives took up the job of +trailing the stationer, and Rita Clarke found that she had important +business to transact in Connecticut. + +Anyone who didn't know Rita would never have suspected that, back of +her brown eyes lay a fund of information upon a score of +subjects--including stenography, the best methods of filing, cost +accounting, and many other points which rendered her invaluable around +an office. Even if they found this out, there was something else which +she kept strictly to herself--the fact that she was engaged to a +certain operative in the United States Secret Service, sometimes known +as Number Thirty-three, and sometimes as Spencer Graham. + +In reply to Spencer's often-repeated requests that she set a day for +their wedding, Miss Clarke would answer: "And lose the chance to figure +in any more cases? Not so that you could notice it! As long as I'm +single you find that you can use me every now and then, but if I were +married I'd have too many domestic cares. No, Spencer, let's wait until +we get one more BIG case, and then--well, we'll say one month from the +day it's finished." + +Which was the reason that Graham and his fiancée had a double reason for +wanting to bring Thurene to earth. + +The first place that Graham went to in Baltimore was the Pennsylvania +station, where he made a number of extended inquiries of certain +employees there. After that he went to the newspaper office, where he +conferred with the clerk whose business it was to receive the lost and +found advertisements, finally securing a copy of the original notice in +Thurene's handwriting. Also some other information which he jotted down +in a notebook reserved for that purpose. + +Several days spent in Baltimore failed to turn up any additional leads +and Graham returned to Washington with a request for a list of the +various places where counterfeit fifty-dollar bills had been reported +during the past month. The record sounded like the megaphonic call of a +train leaving Grand Central Station--New York, Yonkers, Poughkeepsie, +Syracuse, Troy, and points north, with a few other cities thrown in for +good measure. So Spencer informed the chief that he would make his +headquarters in New York for the next ten days or so, wired Rita to the +same effect, and left Washington on the midnight train. + +In New York he discovered only what he had already known, plus one other +very significant bit of evidence--something which would have warranted +him in placing Thurene again under arrest had he not been waiting for +word from Rita. He knew that it would take her at least a month to work +up her end of the case, so Graham put in the intervening time in weaving +his net a little stronger, for he had determined that the next time the +New Haven stationer was taken into custody would be the last--that the +government would have a case which all the lawyers on earth couldn't +break. + +Early in December he received a wire from Rita--a telegram which +contained the single word, "Come"--but that was enough. He was in New +Haven that night, and, in a quiet corner of the Taft grille the girl +gave him an account of what she had found. + +"Getting into Thurene's store was the easiest part of the whole job," +she admitted. "It took me less than a day to spot one of the girls who +wanted to get married, bribe her to leave, and then arrive bright and +early the following morning, in response to the 'stenographer wanted' +advertisement." + +"Thurene's had a lot of practice writing ads lately," remarked Graham, +with a smile. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing. Tell you later. What'd you find in the store?" + +"Not a thing--until day before yesterday. I thought it best to move +slowly and let matters take their own course as far as possible. So I +contented myself with doing the work which had been handled by the girl +whose place I took--dictation, typing, and the rest. Then I found that +the correspondence files were in shocking shape. I grabbed the +opportunity to do a little night work by offering to bring them up to +date. + +"'Certainly,' said the boss, and then took good care to be on hand when +I arrived after dinner that night. The very way he hung around and +watched every movement I made convinced me that the stuff was somewhere +on the premises. But where? That's what I couldn't figure out. + +"Having demonstrated my ability by three hours of stiff work on the +files, I suggested a few days later that I had a first-hand knowledge of +cost accounting and that I would be glad to help get his books in shape +for the holiday business, the old man who usually attends to this being +sick. Again Thurene assented and again he blew in, 'to explain any +entries which might prove troublesome.' I'll say this for him, +though--there isn't a single incriminating entry on the books. Every +purchase is accounted for, down to the last paper of pins. + +"Then, when I felt that I had wormed myself sufficiently well into his +good graces, I hinted that I might be able to help out by supervising +the system in the engraving department--checking up the purchases, +watching the disbursements, keeping an eye on the stock and so on. +Rather to my surprise, he didn't offer any objection. Said that my work +had been of so much help elsewhere that he would be glad to have me +watch the engravers' work. + +"It was there that I got my first real lead--at least I hope it's a +lead. Back of the engraving department is a small room, locked and +padlocked, where the boss is supposed to ride his personal hobby of +amateur photography. I asked one of the men the reason for guarding a +dark room so carefully, and he replied that Thurene claimed to be on the +verge of making a great discovery in color photography, but that the +process took a long time and he didn't want to run the risk of having it +disturbed. I'm to have a look at his color process to-night." + +"What?" cried Graham. "He's going to show you what is in the +double-locked room?" + +"That's what he's promised to do. I haven't the least hope of seeing +anything incriminating--all the evidence will probably be well +hidden--but this morning I expressed a casual interest in photography +and remarked that I understood he was working on a new color process. I +did it mainly to see how he would react. But he never batted an eyelid. +'I've been making some interesting experiments recently,' he said, 'and +they ought to reach a climax to-night. If you'd care to see how they +turn out, suppose you meet me here at nine o'clock and we'll examine +them together.'" + +"But Rita," Graham protested, "you don't mean to say that you're going +to put yourself entirely in this man's power?" + +The girl's first answer was a laugh, and then, "What do you mean, 'put +myself in his power'?" she mocked. "You talk like the hero of a +melodrama. This isn't the first time that I've been alone in the store +with him after dark. Besides, he doesn't suspect a thing and it's too +good a chance to miss. Meet me here the first thing in the +morning--around eight-thirty--and I'll give you the details of Thurene's +secret chamber, provided it contains anything interesting." + +"Rita, I can't--" Graham started to argue, but the girl cut in with, +"You can't stop me? No, you can't. What's more, I'll have to hurry. It's +ten minutes to nine now. See you in the morning." + +The next thing Graham knew she had slipped away from the table and was +on her way out of the grille. + +When Rita reached the Thurene establishment, promptly at nine, she found +the proprietor waiting for her. + +"On time, as usual," he laughed. "Now you'd better keep your hat and +coat on. There's no heat in the dark room and I don't want you to catch +cold. The plates ought to be ready by this time. We'll go right down and +take a look at them." + +Guided by the light from the lantern which the stationer held high in +the air, the girl started down the steps leading to the basement where +the engraving department was located. She heard Thurene close the door +behind him, but failed to hear him slip the bolt which, as they +afterward found, had been well oiled. + +In fact, it was not until they had reached the center of the large room, +in one corner of which was the door to the private photographic +laboratory, that she knew anything was wrong. Then it was too late. + +Before she could move, Thurene leaned forward and seized her--one arm +about her waist, the other over her mouth. Struggle as she might, Rita +was unable to move. Slowly, relentlessly, Thurene turned her around +until she faced him, and then, with a sudden movement of the arm that +encircled her waist, secured a wad of cotton waste, which he had +evidently prepared for just such an emergency. When he had crammed this +in the girl's mouth and tied her hands securely, he moved forward to +open the door to the dark room. + +"Thought I was easy, didn't you?" he sneered. "Didn't think I'd see +through your scheme to get a position here and your infernal cleverness +with the books and the accounts? Want to see something of my color +process, eh? Well, you'll have an opportunity to study it at your +leisure, for it'll be twelve good hours before anyone comes down here, +and by that time I'll be where the rest of your crowd can't touch me." + +"Come along! In with you!" + +At that moment there was a crash of glass from somewhere near the +ceiling and something leaped into the room--something that took only two +strides to reach Thurene and back him up against the wall, with the +muzzle of a very businesslike automatic pressed into the pit of his +stomach. + +The whole thing happened so quickly that by the time Rita recovered her +balance and turned around she only saw the stationer with his hands well +above his head and Spencer Graham--her Spencer--holding him up at the +point of a gun. + +"Take this," snapped the operative, producing a penknife, "and cut that +girl's hands loose! No false moves now--or I'm likely to get nervous!" + +A moment later Rita was free and Thurene had resumed his position +against the wall. + +"Frisk him!" ordered Graham, and then, when the girl had produced a +miscellaneous collection of money, keys and jewelry from the man's +pockets, Spencer allowed him to drop his arms long enough to snap a pair +of handcuffs in place. + +"This time," announced the Secret Service man, "you won't be released +merely because of a fake ad. and the testimony of your friends. Pretty +clever scheme, that. Inserting a 'found advertisement' to cover your +possession of counterfeit money in case you were caught. But you +overlooked a couple of points. The station in Baltimore was thoroughly +swept just five minutes before your train arrived from New York and +every man on duty there is ready to swear that he wouldn't have +overlooked anything as large as the envelope containing that phony +money. Then, too, the clerk in the _News_ office received your +advertisement shortly after noon the next day--so you didn't advertise +it 'at once,' as you said you did. + +"But your biggest mistake was in playing the game too often. +Here"--producing a page from the classified section of a New York +newspaper--"is the duplicate of your Baltimore ad., inserted to cover +your tracks in case they caught you at Jamaica. I've got the original, +in your handwriting, in my pocket." + +"But how'd you happen to arrive here at the right moment?" exclaimed +Rita. + +"I wasn't any too well convinced that you'd fooled our friend here," +Graham replied. "So I trailed you, and, attracted by the light from +Thurene's lantern, managed to break in that window at the time you +needed me." + +"There's only one thing that puzzles me," the operative continued, +turning to Thurene. "What made you take up counterfeiting? Your business +record was clear enough before that, and, of course, being an engraver, +it wasn't hard for you to find the opportunity. What was the motive?" + +For a full sixty seconds the man was silent and then, from between his +clenched teeth, came two words, "Wall Street." + +"I might have guessed that," replied Graham. "I'll see you safely in +jail first and then have a look through your room. Want to come along, +Rita?" + +"No, thanks, Spencer. I've had enough for one evening. Let's see. This +is the sixth of December. Suppose we plan a certain event for the sixth +of January?" + + * * * * * + +"And so they were married and lived happily ever after?" I added, as +Quinn paused. + +"And so they were married," he amended. "I can't say as to the rest of +it--though I'm inclined to believe that they were happy. Anyhow, Rita +knew when she had enough--and that's all you can really ask for in a +wife." + + + + +XX + +IN THE SHADOW OF THE CAPITOL + + +"It won't be long until they're all back--with their pretty clothes and +their jeweled bags and their air of innocent sophistication--but until +at least a dozen of them gather here Washington won't be itself again." + +Bill Quinn and I had been discussing the change which had come over +Washington since peace had disrupted the activities of the various war +organizations, and then, after a pause, the former member of the Secret +Service had referred to "them" and to "their pretty clothes." + +"Who do you mean?" I inquired. "With the possible exception of some +prominent politicians I don't know anyone whose presence is essential to +make Washington 'itself again.' And certainly nobody ever accused +politicians, with the possible exception of J. Ham Lewis, of wearing +pretty clothes. Even he didn't carry a jeweled bag." + +"I wasn't thinking of Congressmen or Senators or even members of the +Cabinet," replied Quinn with a smile. "Like the poor, they are always +with us, and also like the poor, there are times when we would willingly +dispense with them. But the others--they make life worth living, +particularly for members of the Secret Service, who are apt to be a bit +bored with the monotony of chasing counterfeiters and guarding the +President. + +"The ones I refer to are the beautifully gowned women whose too perfect +English often betrays their foreign origin almost as certainly as would +a dialect. They are sent here by various governments abroad to find out +things which we would like to keep secret and their presence helps to +keep Washington cosmopolitan and--interesting. + +"During the war--well, if you recall the case of Jimmy Callahan and the +electric sign at Norfolk--the affair which I believe you wrote under the +title of 'A Flash in the Night'--you know what happened to those who +were caught plotting against the government. In times of peace, however, +things are different." + +"Why? Isn't a spy always a spy?" + +"So far as their work is concerned they are. But by a sort of +international agreement, tacit but understood, those who seek to pry +into the affairs of other governments during the years of peace are not +treated with the same severity as when a nation is fighting for its +life." + +"But surely we have no secrets that a foreign government would want!" I +protested. "That's one of the earmarks of a republic. Everything is +aired in the open, even dirty linen." + +Quinn didn't answer for a moment, and when he did reply there was a +reminiscent little smile playing around the corners of his mouth. + +"Do you remember the disappearance of the plans of the battleship +_Pennsylvania_?" he asked. + +"Yes, I think I do. But as I recall it the matter was never cleared up." + +"Officially, it wasn't. Unofficially, it was. At least there are several +persons connected with the United States Secret Service who are positive +that Sylvia Sterne lifted the blue prints and afterward--well, we might +as well begin the story at the first chapter." + + * * * * * + +The name she was known by on this side of the Atlantic [continued the +former government agent] was not that of Sterne, though subsequent +investigations proved that that was what she was called in Paris and +Vienna and Rome and London. When she arrived in Washington her visiting +cards bore the name of the Countess Stefani, and as there are half a +dozen counts of that name to be found in the peerages of as many +principalities, no one inquired too deeply into her antecedents. + +Yes, she admitted that there was a count somewhere in the background, +but she led those who were interested to the conclusion he had never +understood her peculiar temperament and that therefore she was +sojourning in Washington, seeking pleasure and nothing more. A slow, +soulful glance from her violet eyes usually accompanied the +statement--and caused the man to whom the statement was made (it was +always a man) to wonder how anyone could fail to appreciate so charming +a creature. + +"Charming" is really a very good word to apply to the Countess Sylvia. +Her manner was charming and her work was likewise. Charming secrets and +invitations and news out of those with whom she came in contact. + +Her first public appearance, so far as the Secret Service was concerned, +was at one of the receptions at the British embassy. She was there on +invitation, of course, but it was an invitation secured in her own +original way. + +Immediately upon arriving in Washington she had secured an apartment at +Brickley Court, an apartment which chanced to be directly across the +hall from the one occupied by a Mrs. Sheldon, a young widow with a +rather large acquaintance in the diplomatic set. + +Some ten days after the Countess Sylvia took up her residence on +Connecticut Avenue she visited one of the department stores and made +several purchases, ordering them sent C. O. D. to her apartment. Only, +instead of giving the number as four thirty-six, her tongue apparently +slipped and she said four thirty-seven, which was Mrs. Sheldon's number. +Of course, if the parcels had been paid for or charged they would have +been left at the desk in the lobby, but, being collect, the boy brought +them to the door of four thirty-seven. + +As was only natural, Mrs. Sheldon was about to order them returned when +the door across the hall opened and the countess, attired in one of her +most fetching house gowns, appeared and explained the mistake. + +"How stupid of me!" she exclaimed. "I must have given the girl the wrong +apartment number. I'm awfully sorry for troubling you, Mrs. Sheldon." + +The widow, being young, could not restrain the look of surprise when her +name was mentioned by a woman who was an utter stranger, but the +countess cut right in with: + +"You probably don't remember me, but we met two years ago on Derby Day +in London. The count and I had the pleasure of meeting you through Lord +Cartwright, but it was just before the big race, and when I looked +around again you had been swallowed up in the crowd." + +Mrs. Sheldon had been at the Derby two years before, as the countess +doubtless knew before she arrived in Washington, and also she remembered +having met a number of persons during that eventful afternoon. So the +rest was easy for Sylvia, particularly as the first half hour of their +conversation uncovered the fact that they had many mutual friends, all +of whom, however, were in Europe. + +Through Mrs. Sheldon the countess met a number of the younger and lesser +lights of the Diplomatic Corps and the invitation to the reception at +the British Embassy was hers for the suggestion. + +Before the evening was over several men were asking themselves where +they had met that "very charming countess" before. Some thought it must +have been in Paris, others were certain that it was in Vienna, and still +others maintained that her face brought back memories of their detail in +Saint Petersburg (the name of the Russian capital had not then been +altered). Sylvia didn't enlighten any of them. Neither did she volunteer +details, save of the vaguest nature, contenting herself with knowing +glances which hinted much and bits of frothy gossip which conveyed +nothing. The beauty of her face and the delicate curves of her figure +did the rest. Before the evening was over she had met at least the +younger members of all the principal embassies and legations, not to +mention three men whose names appeared upon the roster of the Senate +Committee on Foreign Relations. + +To one of these, Senator Lattimer, she paid particular attention, +assuring him that she would be honored if he would "drop in some +afternoon for tea," an invitation which the gentleman from Iowa accepted +with alacrity a few days later. + +As was afterward apparent, the countess had arranged her schedule with +considerable care. She had arrived in Washington early in the fall, and +by the time the season was well under way she had the entrée to the +majority of the semiprivate functions--teas and receptions and dances to +which a number of guests were invited. Here, of course, she had an +opportunity to pick up a few morsels of information--crumbs which fell +from the tables of diplomacy--but that wasn't what she was after. She +wanted a copy of a certain confidential report referring to American +relations abroad, and, what's more, she'd have gotten it if she hadn't +overstepped herself. + +Through what might have been termed in vulgar circles "pumping" Senator +Lattimer, though the countess's casual inquiries from time to time +evinced only a natural interest in the affairs of the world, Sylvia +found out that the report would be completed early in March and that a +copy would be in the Senator's office for at least two days--or, what +interested her more, two nights. + +She didn't intimate that she would like to see it. That would have been +too crude. In fact, she deftly turned the subject and made the Senator +believe that she was interested only in his views with respect to the +stabilization of currency or some such topic far removed from the point +they had mentioned. + +Just before he left, however, Senator Lattimer mentioned that there was +going to be a big display of fireworks around the Washington Monument +the following evening, and inquired if the countess would be interested +in witnessing the celebration. + +"Surely," said she. "Why not let's watch them from the roof here? We +ought to able to get an excellent view." + +"I've got a better idea than that," was the senatorial reply. "We'll go +down to the State, War, and Navy Building. The windows on the south side +ought to be ideal for that purpose and there won't be any trouble about +getting in. I'll see to that," he added, with just a touch of pomposity. + +So it happened that among the dozen or more persons who occupied choice +seats in a room in the Navy Department that next night were the Hon. +Arthur H. Lattimer and the Countess Stefani. + +The next morning it was discovered that plans relating to certain recent +naval improvements--radical changes which were to be incorporated in +the battleship _Pennsylvania_--were missing. + +The chief learned of the loss about nine-thirty, and by ten o'clock +every available man was turned loose on the case, with instructions to +pry into the past records and watch the future actions of the people who +had been in the room on the previous evening. + +Because he particularly requested it, Owen Williams, whose connection +with the Secret Service was not a matter of general information, was +detailed to learn what he could of the Countess Stefani. + +"I've run into her a couple of times recently," he told the chief, "and +there's something not altogether on the level about the lady. I don't +suppose we have time to cable abroad and trace the particular branch of +the family to which she claims to belong, but I have a hunch that she is +not working altogether in the interest of Europe. A certain +yellow-skinned person whom we both know has been seen coming out of +Brickley Court on several occasions within the past month, and--well, +the countess is worth watching." + +"Trail her, then!" snapped the chief. "The department has asked for +quick action in this case, for there are reasons which render it +inadvisable for those plans to get out of the country." + +"Right!" replied Williams, settling his hat at a rather jaunty angle and +picking up his gloves and stick. "I'll keep in close touch with you and +report developments. If you want me within the next couple of hours I'll +probably be somewhere around Brickley Court. The countess never rises +until round noon." + +But that morning, as Williams soon discovered, something appeared to +have interfered with the routine of the fair Sylvia. She had called the +office about nine o'clock, made an inquiry about the New York trains, +ordered a chair reserved on the eleven and a taxi for ten forty-five. +All of which gave Owen just enough time to phone the chief, tell him of +the sudden change in his plans, and suggest that the countess's room be +searched during her absence. + +"Tell New York to have some one pick up Stefani as soon as she arrives," +Williams concluded. "I'm going to renew my acquaintance with her en +route, find out where she's staying, and frame an excuse for being at +the same hotel. But I may not be able to accompany her there, so have +some one trail her from the station. I'll make any necessary reports +through the New York office." + +Just after the train pulled out of Baltimore the Countess Stefani saw a +young and distinctly handsome man, whose face was vaguely familiar, rise +from his seat at the far end of the car and come toward her. Then, as he +reached her chair he halted, surprised. + +"This is luck!" he exclaimed. "I never hoped to find you on the train, +Countess! Going through to New York, of course?" + +As he spoke the man's name came back to her, together with the fact that +he had been pointed out as one of the eligible young bachelors who +apparently did but little and yet had plenty of money to do it with. + +"Oh, Mr. Williams! You gave me a bit of a start at first. Your face was +in the shadow and I didn't recognize you. Yes, I'm just running up for a +little shopping. Won't be gone for more than a day or two, for I must be +back in time for the de Maury dance on Thursday evening. You are going, +I suppose?" + +Thankful for the opening, Williams occupied the vacant chair next to +hers, and before they reached Havre de Grace they were deep in a +discussion of people and affairs in Washington. It was not Williams's +intention, however, to allow the matter to stop there. Delicately, but +certainly, he led the conversation into deeper channels, exerting every +ounce of his personality to convince the countess that this was a moment +for which he had longed, an opportunity to chat uninterruptedly with +"the most charming woman in Washington." + +"This is certainly the shortest five hours I've ever spent," he assured +his companion as the porter announced their arrival at Manhattan +Transfer. "Can't I see something more of you while we are in New York? +I'm not certain when I'll get back to Washington and this glimpse has +been far too short. Are you going to stop with friends?" + +"No--at the Vanderbilt. Suppose you call up to-morrow morning and I'll +see what I can do." + +"Why not a theater party this evening?" + +"I'm sorry, but I have an engagement." + +"Right--to-morrow morning, then," and the operative said good-by with a +clear conscience, having noted that one of the men from the New York +office was already on the job. + +Later in the evening he was informed that the countess had gone directly +to her hotel, had dressed for dinner, and then, after waiting in the +lobby for nearly an hour, had eaten a solitary meal and had gone back to +her room, leaving word at the desk that she was to be notified +immediately if anyone called. But no one had. + +The next morning, instead of phoning, Williams dropped around to the +Vanderbilt and had a short session with the house detective, who had +already been notified that the Countess Stefani was being watched by +Secret Service operatives. The house man, however, verified the report +of the operative who had picked up the countess at the station--she had +received no callers and had seen no one save the maid. + +"Any phone messages?" + +"Not one." + +"Any mail?" + +"Just a newspaper, evidently one that a friend had mailed from +Washington. The address was in a feminine hand and--" + +"Tell the maid that I want the wrapper of that paper if it's in the +countess's room," interrupted Williams. "I don't want the place searched +for it, but if it happens to be in the wastebasket be sure I get it." + +A moment later he was calling the Countess Stefani, presumably from the +office of a friend of his in Wall Street. + +"I'm afraid I can't see you to-day," and Sylvia's voice appeared to +register infinite regret. "I wasn't able to complete a little business +deal I had on last night--succumbed to temptation and went to the +theater, so I'll have to pay for it to-day." (Here Williams suppressed a +chuckle, both at the manner in which the lady handled the truth and at +the fact that she was palpably ignorant that she had been shadowed.) +"I'm returning to Washington on the Congressional, but I'll be sure to +see you at the de Maurys', won't I? Please come down--for my sake!" + +"I'll do it," was Owen's reply, "and I can assure you that my return to +Washington will be entirely because I feel that I must see you again. Au +revoir, until Thursday night." + +"On the Congressional Limited, eh?" he muttered as he stepped out of the +booth. "Maybe it's a stall, but I'll make the train just the same. +Evidently one of the lady's plans has gone amiss." + +"Here's the wrapper you wanted," said the house detective, producing a +large torn envelope, slit lengthwise and still showing by its rounded +contour that it had been used to inclose a rolled newspaper. + +"Thanks," replied Williams, as he glanced at the address. "I thought +so." + +"Thought what?" + +"Come over here a minute," and he steered the detective to the desk, +where he asked to be shown the register for the preceding day. Then, +pointing to the name "Countess Sylvia Stefani" on the hotel sheet and to +the same name on the wrapper, he asked, "Note everything?" + +"The handwriting is the same!" + +"Precisely. The countess mailed this paper herself at this hotel before +she left Washington. And, if I'm not very much mistaken, she'll mail +another one to herself in Washington, before she leaves New York." + +"You want it intercepted?" + +"I do not! If Sylvia is willing to trust the Post-office Department with +her secret, I certainly am. But I intend to be on hand when that paper +arrives." + +Sure enough, just before leaving for the station that afternoon, +Williams found out from his ally at the Vanderbilt that the countess had +slipped a folded and addressed newspaper into the mail box in the lobby. +She had then paid her bill and entered a taxi, giving the chauffeur +instructions to drive slowly through Central Park. Sibert, the operative +who was trailing her, reported that several times she appeared to be on +the point of stopping, but had ordered the taxi driver to go +on--evidently being suspicious that she was followed and not wishing to +take any chances. + +Of this, though, Williams knew nothing--for a glance into one of the +cars on the Congressional Limited had been sufficient to assure him that +his prey was aboard. He spent the rest of the trip in the smoker, so +that he might not run into her. + +In Washington, however, a surprise awaited him. + +Instead of returning at once to Brickley Court, the countess checked her +bag at the station and hired a car by the hour, instructing the driver +to take her to the Chevy Chase Club. Williams, of course, followed in +another car, but had the ill fortune to lose the first taxi in the crush +of machines which is always to be noted on dance nights at the club, and +it was well on toward morning before he could locate the chauffeur he +wanted to reach. + +According to that individual, the lady had not gone into the club, at +all, but, changing her mind, had driven on out into the country, +returning to Washington at midnight. + +"Did she meet anyone?" demanded Williams. + +"Not a soul, sir. Said she just wanted to drive through the country and +that she had to be at the Senate Office Building at twelve o'clock." + +"The Senate Office Building?" echoed the operative. "At midnight? Did +you drop her there?" + +"I did, sir. She told me to wait and she was out again in five minutes, +using the little door in the basement--the one that's seldom locked. I +thought she was the wife of one of the Senators. Then I drove her to +Union Station to get her bag, and then to Brickley Court, where she paid +me and got out." + +The moment the chauffeur had mentioned the Senate Office Building a +mental photograph of Senator Lattimer had sprung to Williams's mind, for +the affair between the countess and the Iowa statesman was public +property. + +Telling the chauffeur to wait in the outer room, the operative called +the Lattimer home and insisted on speaking to the Senator. + +"Yes, it's a matter of vital importance!" he snapped. Then, a few +moments later, when a gruff but sleepy voice inquired what he wanted: + +"This is Williams of the Secret Service speaking, Senator. Have you any +documents of importance--international importance--in your office at the +present moment?" + +"No, nothing of particular value. Wait a minute! A copy of a certain +report to the Committee on Foreign Relations arrived late yesterday and +I remember seeing it on my desk as I left. Why? What's the matter?" + +"Nothing--except that I don't think that report is there now," replied +Williams. "Can you get to your office in ten minutes?" + +"I'll be there!" + +But a thorough search by the two of them failed to reveal any trace of +the document. It had gone--vanished--in spite of the fact that the door +was locked as usual. + +"Senator," announced the government agent, "a certain woman you know +took that paper. She got in here with a false key, lifted the report and +was out again in less than five minutes. The theft occurred shortly +after midnight and--" + +"If you know so much about it, why don't you arrest her?" + +"I shall--before the hour is up. Only I thought you might like to know +in advance how your friend the Countess Stefani worked. She was also +responsible for the theft of the plans of the battleship _Pennsylvania_, +you know." + +And Williams was out of the room before the look of amazement had faded +from the Senator's face. + +Some thirty minutes later the Countess Sylvia was awakened by the sound +of continued rapping on her door. In answer to her query, "Who's +there?" a man's voice replied, "Open this door, or I'll break it in!" + +Williams, however, knew that his threat was an idle one, for the doors +at Brickley Court were built of solid oak that defied anything short of +a battering ram. Which was the reason that he had to wait a full five +minutes, during which time he distinctly heard the sound of paper +rattling and then the rasp of a match as it was struck. + +Finally the countess, attired in a bewitching negligée, threw open the +door. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed. "So it is you, Mr. Williams! What do you--" + +"You know what I want," growled Owen. "That paper you stole from +Lattimer's office to-night. Also the plans you lifted from the Navy +Department. The ones you mailed in New York yesterday afternoon and +which were waiting for you here!" + +"Find them!" was the woman's mocking challenge as Williams's eyes roved +over the room and finally rested on a pile of crumbled ashes beside an +alcohol lamp on the table. A moment's examination told him that a blue +print had been burned, but it was impossible to tell what it had been, +and there was no trace of any other paper in the ashes. + +"Search her!" he called to a woman in the corridor. "I'm going to rifle +the mail-box downstairs. She can't get away with the same trick three +times!" + +And there, in an innocent-looking envelope addressed to a certain +personage whose name stood high on the diplomatic list, Williams +discovered the report for which a woman risked her liberty and gambled +six months of her life! + + * * * * * + +"But the plans?" I asked as Quinn finished. + +"Evidently that was what she had burned. She'd taken care to crumple the +ashes so that it was an impossibility to get a shred of direct evidence, +not that it would have made any difference if she hadn't. The government +never prosecutes matters of this kind, except in time of war. They +merely warn the culprit to leave the country and never return--which is +the reason that, while you'll find a number of very interesting +foreigners in Washington at the present moment, the Countess Sylvia +Stefani is not among them. Neither is the personage to whom her letter +was addressed. He was 'recalled' a few weeks later." + + + + +XXI + +A MILLION-DOLLAR QUARTER + + +"What's in the phial?" I inquired one evening, as Bill Quinn, formerly +of the United States Secret Service, picked up a small brown bottle from +the table in his den and slipped it into his pocket. + +"Saccharine," retorted Quinn, laconically. "Had to come to it in order +to offset the sugar shortage. No telling how long it will continue, and, +meanwhile, we're conserving what we have on hand. So I carry my 'lump +sugar' in my vest pocket, and I'll keep on doing it until conditions +improve. They say the trouble lies at the importing end. Can't secure +enough sugar at the place where the ships are or enough ships at the +place where the sugar is. + +"This isn't the first time that sugar has caused trouble, either. See +that twenty-five-cent piece up there on the wall? Apparently it's an +ordinary everyday quarter. But it cost the government well over a +million dollars, money which should have been paid in as import duty on +tons upon tons of sugar. + +"Yes, back of that quarter lies a case which is absolutely unique in the +annals of governmental detective work--the biggest and most far-reaching +smuggling plot ever discovered and the one which took the longest time +to solve. + +"Nine years seems like a mighty long time to work on a single +assignment, but when you consider that the Treasury collected more than +two million dollars as a direct result of one man's labor during that +time, you'll see that it was worth while." + + * * * * * + +The whole thing really started when Dick Carr went to work as a sugar +sampler [continued Quinn, his eyes fixed meditatively upon the quarter +on the wall]. + +Some one had tipped the department off to the fact that phony sampling +of some sort was being indulged in and Dick managed to get a place as +assistant on one of the docks where the big sugar ships unloaded. As you +probably know, there's a big difference in the duty on the different +grades of raw sugar; a difference based upon the tests made by expert +chemists as soon as the cargo is landed. Sugar which is only ninety-two +per cent pure, for example, comes in half-a-cent a pound cheaper than +that which is ninety-six per cent pure, and the sampling is accomplished +by inserting a thin glass tube through the wide meshes of the bag or +basket which contains the sugar. + +It didn't take Carr very long to find out that the majority of the +samplers were slipping their tubes into the bags at an angle, instead of +shoving them straight in, and that a number of them made a practice of +moistening the outside of the container before they made their tests. +The idea, of course, was that the sugar which had absorbed moisture, +either during the voyage or after reaching the dock--would not "assay" +as pure as would the dry material in the center of the package. A few +experiments, conducted under the cover of night, showed a difference of +four to six per cent in the grade of the samples taken from the inside +of the bag and that taken from a point close to the surface, +particularly if even a small amount of water had been judiciously +applied. + +The difference, when translated into terms of a half-a-cent a pound +import duty, didn't take long to run up into hundreds of thousands of +dollars, and Carr's report, made after several months' investigating, +cost a number of sugar samplers their jobs and brought the wrath of the +government down upon the companies which had been responsible for the +practice. + +After such an exposure as this, you might think that the sugar people +would have been content to take their legitimate profit and to pay the +duty levied by law. But Carr had the idea that they would try to put +into operation some other scheme for defrauding the Treasury and during +years that followed he kept in close touch with the importing situation +and the personnel of the men employed on the docks. + +The active part he had played in the sugar-sampling exposure naturally +prevented his active participation in any attempt to uncover the fraud +from the inside, but it was the direct cause of his being summoned to +Washington when a discharged official of one of the sugar companies +filed a charge that the government was losing five hundred thousand +dollars a year by the illicit operations at a single plant. + +"Frankly, I haven't the slightest idea of how it's being done," +confessed the official in question. "But I am certain that some kind of +a swindle is being perpetrated on a large scale. Here's the proof!" + +With that he produced two documents--one the bill of lading of the +steamer _Murbar_, showing the amount of sugar on board when she cleared +Java, and the other the official receipt, signed by a representative of +the sugar company, for her cargo when she reached New York. + +"As you will note," continued the informant, "the bill of lading clearly +shows that the _Murbar_ carried eleven million seven hundred thirty-four +thousand six hundred eighty-seven pounds of raw sugar. Yet, when +weighed under the supervision of the customhouse officials a few weeks +later, the cargo consisted of only eleven million thirty-two thousand +and sixteen pounds--a 'shrinkage' of seven hundred two thousand six +hundred seventy-one pounds, about six per cent of the material +shipment." + +"And at the present import duty that would amount to about--" + +"In the neighborhood of twelve thousand dollars loss on this ship +alone," stated the former sugar official. "Allowing for the arrival of +anywhere from fifty to a hundred ships a year, you can figure the annual +deficit for yourself." + +Carr whistled. He had rather prided himself upon uncovering the sampling +frauds a few years previously, but this bade fair to be a far bigger +case--one which would tax every atom of his ingenuity to uncover. + +"How long has this been going on?" inquired the acting Secretary of the +Treasury. + +"I can't say," admitted the informant. "Neither do I care to state how I +came into possession of these documents. But, as you will find when you +look into the matter, they are entirely authoritative and do not refer +to an isolated case. The _Murbar_ is the rule, not the exception. It's +now up to you people to find out how the fraud was worked." + +"He's right, at that," was the comment from the acting Secretary, when +the former sugar official had departed. "The information is undoubtedly +the result of a personal desire to 'get even'--for our friend recently +lost his place with the company in question. However, that hasn't the +slightest bearing upon the truth of his charges. Carr, it's up to you to +find out what there is in 'em!" + +"That's a man-sized order, Mr. Secretary," smiled Dick, "especially as +the work I did some time ago on the sampling frauds made me about as +popular as the plague with the sugar people. If I ever poked my nose on +the docks at night you'd be out the price of a big bunch of white roses +the next day!" + +"Which means that you don't care to handle the case?" + +"Not so that you could notice it!" snapped Carr. "I merely wanted you to +realize the handicaps under which I'll be working, so that there won't +be any demand for instant developments. This case is worth a million +dollars if it's worth a cent. And, because it is so big, it will take a +whole lot longer to round up the details than if we were working on a +matter that concerned only a single individual. If you remember, it took +Joe Gregory nearly six months to land Phyllis Dodge, and therefore--" + +"Therefore it ought to take about sixty years to get to the bottom of +this case, eh?" + +"Hardly that long. But I would like an assurance that I can dig into +this in my own way and that there won't be any 'Hurry up!' message sent +from this end every week or two." + +"That's fair enough," agreed the Assistant Secretary. "You know the ins +and outs of the sugar game better than any man in the service. So hop to +it and take your time. We'll content ourselves with sitting back and +awaiting developments." + +Armed with this assurance, Carr went back to New York and began +carefully and methodically to lay his plans for the biggest game ever +hunted by a government detective--a ring protected by millions of +dollars in capital and haunted by the fear that its operations might +some day be discovered. + +In spite of the fact that it was necessary to work entirely in the dark, +Dick succeeded in securing the manifests and bills of lading of three +other sugar ships which had recently been unloaded, together with copies +of the receipts of their cargoes. Every one of these indicated the same +mysterious shrinkage en route, amounting to about six per cent of the +entire shipment, and, as Carr figured it, there were but two +explanations which could cover the matter. + +Either a certain percentage of the sugar had been removed from the hold +and smuggled into the country before the ship reached New York, or there +was a conspiracy of some kind which involved a number of the weighers on +the docks. + +"The first supposition," argued Carr, "is feasible but hardly within the +bounds of probability. If the shortage had occurred in a shipment of +gold or something else which combines high value with small volume, +that's where I'd look for the leak. But when it comes to hundreds of +thousands of pounds of sugar--that's something else. You can't carry +that around in your pockets or even unload it without causing comment +and employing so many assistants that the risk would be extremely great. + +"No, the answer must lie right here on the docks--just as it did in the +sampling cases." + +So it was on the docks that he concentrated his efforts, working through +the medium of a girl named Louise Wood, whom he planted as a file clerk +and general assistant in the offices of the company which owned the +_Murbar_ and a number of other sugar ships. + +This, of course, wasn't accomplished in a day, nor yet in a month. As a +matter of fact, it was February when Carr was first assigned to the case +and it was late in August when the Wood girl went to work. But, as Dick +figured it, this single success was worth all the time and trouble spent +in preparing for it. + +It would be hard, therefore, to give any adequate measure of his +disappointment when the girl informed him that everything in her office +appeared to be straight and aboveboard. + +"You know, Dick," reported Louise, after she had been at work for a +couple of months, "I'm not the kind that can have the wool pulled over +my eyes. If there was anything crooked going on, I'd spot it before +they'd more than laid their first plans. But I've had the opportunity of +going over the files and the records and it's all on the level." + +"Then how are you to account for the discrepancies between the bills of +lading and the final receipts?" queried Carr, almost stunned by the +girl's assurance. + +"That's what I don't know," she admitted. "It certainly looks queer, but +of course it is possible that the men who ship the sugar deliberately +falsify the records in order to get more money and that the company pays +these statements as a sort of graft. That I can't say. It doesn't come +under my department, as you know. Neither is it criminal. What I do know +is that the people on the dock have nothing to do with faking the +figures." + +"Sure you haven't slipped up anywhere and given them a suspicion as to +your real work?" + +"Absolutely certain. I've done my work and done it well. That's what I +was employed for and that's what's given me access to the files. But, as +for suspicion--there hasn't been a trace of it!" + +It was in vain that Carr questioned and cross-questioned the girl. She +was sure of herself and sure of her information, positive that no +crooked work was being handled by the men who received the sugar when it +was unloaded from the incoming ships. + +Puzzled by the girl's insistence and stunned by the failure of the plan +upon which he had banked so much, Carr gave the matter up as a bad +job--telling Louise that she could stop her work whenever she wished, +but finally agreeing to her suggestion that she continue to hold her +place on the bare chance of uncovering a lead. + +"Of course," concluded the girl, "you may be right, after all. They may +have covered their tracks so thoroughly that I haven't been able to pick +up the scent. I really don't believe that they have--but it's worth the +gamble to me if it is to you." + +More than a month passed before the significance of this speech dawned +upon Dick, and then only when he chanced to be walking along Fifth +Avenue one Saturday afternoon and saw Louise coming out of Tiffany's +with a small cubical package in her hand. + +"Tiffany's--" he muttered. "I wonder--" + +Then, entering the store, he sought out the manager and stated that he +would like to find out what a lady, whom he described, had just +purchased. The flash of his badge which accompanied this request turned +the trick. + +"Of course, it's entirely against our rules," explained the store +official, "but we are always glad to do anything in our power to assist +the government. Just a moment. I'll call the clerk who waited on her." + +"The lady," he reported a few minutes later, "gave her name as Miss +Louise Wood and her address as--" + +"I know where she lives," snapped Carr. "What did she buy?" + +"A diamond and platinum ring." + +"The price?" + +"Eight hundred and fifty dollars." + +"Thanks," said the operative and was out of the office before the +manager could frame any additional inquiries. + +When the Wood girl answered a rather imperative ring at the door of her +apartment she was distinctly surprised at the identity of her caller, +for she and Carr had agreed that it would not be wise for them to meet +except by appointment in some out-of-the-way place. + +"Dick!" she exclaimed. "What brings you here? Do you think it's safe?" + +"Safe or not," replied the operative, entering and closing the door +behind him. "I'm here and here I'm going to stay until I find out +something. Where did you get the money to pay for that ring you bought +at Tiffany's to-day?" + +"Money? Ring?" echoed the girl. "What are you talking about?" + +"You know well enough! Now don't stall. Come through! Where'd you get +it?" + +"An--an aunt died and left it to me," but the girl's pale face and +halting speech belied her words. + +"Try another one," sneered Carr. "Where did you get that eight hundred +and fifty dollars?" + +"What business is it of yours? Can't I spend my own money in my own way +without being trailed and hounded all over the city?" + +"You can spend your own money--the money you earn by working and the +money I pay you for keeping your eyes open on the dock as you please. +But--" and here Carr reached forward and grasped the girl's wrist, +drawing her slowly toward him, so that her eyes looked straight into +his, "when it comes to spending other money--money that you got for +keeping your mouth shut and putting it over on me--that's another +story." + +"I didn't, Dick; I didn't!" + +"Can you look me straight in the eyes and say that they haven't paid you +for being blind? That they didn't suspect what you came to the dock +for, and declared you in on the split? No! I didn't think you could!" + +With that he flung her on a couch and moved toward the door. Just as his +hand touched the knob he heard a voice behind him, half sob and half +plea, cry, "Dick!" + +Reluctantly he turned. + +"Dick, as there's a God in heaven I didn't mean to double cross you. But +they were on to me from the first. They planted some stamps in my pocket +during the first week I was there and then gave me my choice of bein' +pulled for thieving or staying there at double pay. I didn't want to do +it, but they had the goods on me and I had to. They said all I had to do +was to tell you that nothing crooked was goin' on--and they'll pay me +well for it." + +"While you were also drawing money from me, eh?" + +"Sure I was, Dick. I couldn't ask you to stop my pay. You'd have +suspected. Besides, as soon as you were done with me, they were, too." + +"That's where the eight hundred and fifty dollars came from?" + +"Yes, and a lot more. Oh, they pay well, all right!" + +For fully a minute there was silence in the little apartment, broken +only by the sobs of the girl on the couch. Finally Carr broke the +strain. + +"There's only one way for you to square yourself," he announced. "Tell +me everything you know--the truth and every word of it!" + +"That's just it, Dick. I don't know anything--for sure. There's +something goin' on. No doubt of that. But what it is I don't know. They +keep it under cover in the scale house." + +"In the scale house?" + +"Yes; they don't allow anyone in there without a permit. Somebody +uptown tips 'em off whenever a special agent is coming down, so they can +fix things. But none of the staff knows, though nearly all of them are +drawin' extra money for keeping their mouths shut." + +"Who are the men who appear to be implicated?" + +"Mahoney, the checker for the company, and Derwent, the government +weigher." + +"Derwent!" + +"Yes, he's in on it, too. I tell you, Dick, the thing's bigger than you +ever dreamed. It's like an octopus, with tentacles that are fastened on +everyone connected with the place." + +"But no clue as to the location of the body of the beast?" + +"Can't you guess? You know the number of their office uptown. But +there's no use hoping to nab them. They're too well protected. I doubt +if you can even get at the bottom of the affair on the dock." + +"I don't doubt it!" Carr's chin had settled itself determinedly and his +mouth was a thin red line. "I'm going to give you a chance to redeem +yourself. Go back to work as usual on Monday. Don't let on, by word or +gesture, that anything has changed. Just await developments. If you'll +do that, I'll see that you're not implicated. More than that, I'll +acknowledge you at the proper time as my agent--planted there to double +cross the fraud gang. You'll have your money and your glory and your +satisfaction of having done the right thing, even though you didn't +intend to do it. Are you on?" + +"I am, Dick. I won't say a word. I promise!" + +"Good! You'll probably see me before long. But don't recognize me. +You'll be just one of the girls and it'll probably be necessary to +include you in the round-up. I'll fix that later. Good-by," and with +that he was off. + +Not expecting that Carr would be able to complete his plans for at least +a week, Louise was startled when the operative arrived at the dock on +the following Monday morning. He had spent the previous day in +Washington, arranging details, and his appearance at the company's +office--while apparently casual--was part of the program mapped out in +advance. What was more, Carr had come to the dock from the station, so +as to prevent the "inside man" from flashing a warning of his arrival. + +Straight through the office he strode, his right hand swinging at his +side, his left thrust nonchalantly in the pocket of his topcoat. + +Before he had crossed halfway to the door of the scale room he was +interrupted by a burly individual, who demanded his business. + +"I want to see Mr. Derwent or Mr. Mahoney," replied Carr. + +"They're both engaged at present," was the answer. "Wait here, and I'll +tell them." + +"Get out of my road!" growled the operative, pulling back the lapel of +his coat sufficiently to afford a glimpse of his badge. "I'll see them +where they are," and before the guardian of the scale house door had +recovered from his astonishment Carr was well across the portals. + +The first thing that caught his eye was the figure of a man bending over +the weight beam of one of the big scales, while another man was making +some adjustments on the other side of the apparatus. + +Derwent, who was facing the door, was the first to see Carr, but before +he could warn his companion, the special agent was on top of them. + +"Who are you? What business have you in here?" demanded the government +weigher. + +"Carr is my name," replied Dick. "Possibly you've heard of me. If so, +you know my business. Catching sugar crooks!" + +Derwent's face went white for a moment and then flushed a deep red. +Mahoney, however, failed to alter his position. He remained bending over +the weight beam, his finger nails scratching at something underneath. + +"Straighten up there!" ordered Carr. "You--Mahoney--I mean! Straighten +up!" + +"I'll see you in hell first!" snapped the other. + +"You'll be there soon enough if you don't get up!" was Carr's reply, as +his left hand emerged from his coat pocket, bringing to light the +blue-steel barrel of a forty-five. "Get--" + +Just at that moment, from a point somewhere near the door of the scale +room, came a shrill, high-pitched cry--a woman's voice: + +"Dick!" it called. "Lookout! Jump!" + +Instantly, involuntarily, the operative leaped sidewise, and as he did +so a huge bag of raw sugar crashed to the floor, striking directly on +the spot where he had stood. + +"Thanks, Lou," called Carr, without turning his head. "You saved me that +time all right! Now, gentlemen, before any more bags drop, suppose we +adjourn uptown. We're less likely to be interrupted there," and he +sounded a police whistle, which brought a dozen assistants on the run. + +"Search Mahoney," he directed. "I don't think Derwent has anything on +him. What's that Mahoney has in his hand?" + +"Nothin' but a quarter, sir, an' what looks like an old wad o' chewin' +gum." + +Puzzled, Carr examined the coin. Then the explanation of the whole +affair flashed upon him as he investigated the weight-beam and found +fragments of gum adhering to the lower part, near the free end. + +"So that was the trick, eh?" he inquired. "Quite a delicate bit of +mechanism, this scale--in spite of the fact that it was designed to +weigh tons of material. Even a quarter, gummed on to the end of the +beam, would throw the whole thing out enough to make it well worth +while. I think this coin and the wad of gum will make very interesting +evidence--Exhibits A and B--at the trial, after we've rounded up the +rest of you." + + * * * * * + +"And that," concluded Quinn, "is the story which lies behind that +twenty-five-cent piece--probably the most valuable bit of money, judged +from the standpoint of what it has accomplished, in the world." + +"Derwent and Mahoney?" I asked. "What happened to them? And did Carr +succeed in landing the men higher up?" + +"Unfortunately," and Quinn smiled rather ruefully, "there is such a +thing as the power of money. The government brought suit against the +sugar companies implicated in the fraud and commenced criminal +proceedings against the men directly responsible for the manipulation of +the scales. (It developed that they had another equally lucrative method +of using a piece of thin corset steel to alter the weights.) But the +case was quashed upon the receipt of a check for more than two million +dollars, covering back duties uncollected, so the personal indictments +were allowed to lapse. It remains, however, the only investigation I +ever heard of in which success was so signal and the amount involved so +large. + +"Todd, of the Department of Justice, handled a big affair not long +afterward, but, while some of the details were even more unusual and +exciting, the theft was only a paltry two hundred and fifty thousand +dollars." + +"Which case was that?" + +"The looting of the Central Trust Company," replied the former +operative, rising and stretching himself. "Get along with you. It's time +for me to lock up." + + + + +XXII + +"THE LOOTING OF THE C. T. C." + + +There was a wintry quality in the night itself that made a comfortable +chair and an open fire distinctly worth the payment of a luxury tax. Add +to this the fact that the chairs in the library den of William J. +Quinn--formerly "Bill Quinn, United States Secret Service"--were roomy +and inviting, while the fire fairly crackled with good cheer, and you'll +know why the conversation, after a particularly good dinner on the +evening in question, was punctuated by pauses and liberally interlarded +with silences. + +Finally, feeling that it was really necessary that I say something, I +remarked upon the fierceness of the wind and the biting, stinging sleet +which accompanied a typical January storm. + +"Makes one long for Florida," I added. + +"Yes," agreed Quinn, "or even some point farther south. On a night like +this you can hardly blame a man for heading for Honduras, even if he did +carry away a quarter of a million of the bank's deposits with him." + +"Huh? Who's been looting the local treasury?" I asked, thinking that I +was on the point of getting some advance information. + +"No one that I know of," came from the depths of Quinn's big armchair. +"I was just thinking of Florida and warm weather, and that naturally led +to Honduras, which, in turn, recalled Rockwell to my mind. Ever hear of +Rockwell?" + +"Don't think I ever did. What was the connection between him and the +quarter-million you mentioned?" + +"Quite a bit. Rather intimate, as you might say. But not quite as much +as he had planned. However, if it hadn't been for Todd--" + +"Todd?" + +"Yes--Ernest E. Todd, of the Department of Justice. 'Extra Ernest,' they +used to call him, because he'd never give up a job until he brought it +in, neatly wrapped and ready for filing. More than one man has had cause +to believe that Todd's parents chose the right name for him. He may not +have been much to look at--but he sure was earnest." + + * * * * * + +Take the Rockwell case, for example [Quinn went on, after a preliminary +puff or two to see that his pipe was drawing well]. No one had the +slightest idea that the Central Trust Company wasn't in the best of +shape. Its books always balanced to a penny. There was never anything to +cause the examiner to hesitate, and its officials were models of +propriety. Particularly Rockwell, the cashier. Not only was he a pillar +of the church, but he appeared to put his religious principles into +practice on the other six days of the week as well. He wasn't married, +but that only boosted his stock in the eyes of the community, many of +which had daughters of an age when wedding bells sound very tuneful and +orange blossoms are the sweetest flowers that grow. + +When they came to look into the matter later on, nobody seemed to know +much about Mr. Rockwell's antecedents. He'd landed a minor position in +the bank some fifteen years before and had gradually lifted himself to +the cashiership. Seemed to have an absolute genius for detail and the +handling of financial matters. + +So it was that when Todd went back home on a vacation and happened to +launch some of his ideas on criminology--ideas founded on an intensive +study of Lombroso and other experts--he quickly got himself into deep +water. + +During the course of a dinner at one of the hotels, "E. E." commenced to +expound certain theories relating to crime and the physical appearance +of the criminal. + +"Do you know," he inquired, "that it's the simplest thing in the world +to tell whether a man--or even a boy, for that matter--has criminal +tendencies? There are certain unmistakable physical details that point +unerringly to what the world might call 'laxity of conscience,' but +which is nothing less than a predisposition to evil, a tendency to +crime. The lobes of the ears, the height and shape of the forehead, the +length of the little finger, the contour of the hand--all these are of +immense value in determining whether a man will go straight or crooked. +Employers are using them more and more every day. The old-fashioned +phrenologist, with his half-formed theories and wild guesses, has been +displaced by the modern student of character, who relies upon certain +rules which vary so little as to be practically immutable." + +"Do you mean to say," asked one of the men at the table, "that you can +tell that a man is a criminal simply by looking at him?" + +"If that's the case," cut in another, "why don't you lock 'em all up?" + +"But it isn't the case," was Todd's reply. "The physical characteristics +to which I refer only mean that a man is likely to develop along the +wrong lines. They are like the stars which, as Shakespeare remarked, +'incline, but do not compel.' If you remember, he added, 'The fault, +dear Brutus, lies in ourselves.' Therefore, if a detective of the modern +school is working on a case and he comes across a man who bears one or +more of these very certain brands of Cain, he watches that man very +carefully--at least until he is convinced that he is innocent. You can't +arrest a man simply because he looks like a crook, but it is amazing how +often the guideposts point in the right direction." + +"Anyone present that you suspect of forgery or beating his wife?" came +in a bantering voice from the other end of the table. + +"If you're in earnest," answered the government agent, "lay your hands +on the table." + +And everyone present, including Rockwell, cashier of the Central Trust +Company, placed his hands, palm upward, on the cloth--though there was a +distinct hesitation in several quarters. + +Slowly, deliberately, Todd looked around the circle of hands before him. +Then, with quite as much precision, he scanned the faces and +particularly the ears of his associates. Only once did his gaze hesitate +longer than usual, and then not for a sufficient length of time to make +it apparent. + +"No," he finally said. "I'd give every one of you a clean bill of +health. Apparently you're all right. But," and he laughed, "remember, I +said 'apparently.' So don't blame me if there's a murder committed +before morning and one or more of you is arrested for it!" + +That was all there was to the matter until Todd, accompanied by two of +his older friends, left the grill and started to walk home. + +"That was an interesting theory of yours," commented one of the men, +"but wasn't it only a theory? Is there any real foundation of fact?" + +"You mean my statement that you can tell by the shape of a man's head +and hands whether he has a predisposition to crime?" + +"Yes." + +"It's far from a theory, inasmuch as it has the support of hundreds of +cases which are on record. Besides, I had a purpose in springing it when +I did. In fact, it partook of the nature of an experiment." + +"You mean you suspected some one present--" + +"Not suspected, but merely wondered if he would submit to the test. I +knew that one of the men at the table would call for it. Some one in a +crowd always does--and I had already noted a startling peculiarity about +the forehead, nose, and ears of a certain dinner companion. I merely +wanted to find out if he had the nerve to withstand my inspection of his +hands. I must say that he did, without flinching." + +"But who was the man?" + +"I barely caught his name," replied Todd, "and this conversation must be +in strict confidence. After all, criminologists do not maintain that +every man who looks like a crook is one. They simply state and prove +that ninety-five per cent of the deliberate criminals, men who plan +their wrong well in advance, bear these marks. And the man who sat +across the table from me to-night has them, to an amazing degree." + +"Across the table from you? Why that was Rockwell, cashier of the +Central Trust!" + +"Precisely," stated Todd, "and the only reason that I am making this +admission is because I happen to know that both of you bank there." + +"But," protested one of the other men, "Rockwell has been with them for +years. He's worked himself up from the very bottom and had hundreds of +chances to make away with money if he wanted to. He's as straight as a +die." + +"Very possibly he is," Todd agreed. "That's the reason that I warn you +that what I said was in strict confidence. Neither one of you is to say +a word that would cast suspicion on Rockwell. It would be fatal to his +career. On the other hand, I wanted to give you the benefit of my +judgment, which, if you remember, you requested." + +But it didn't take a character analyst to see that the Department of +Justice man had put his foot in it, so far as his friends were +concerned. They were convinced of the cashier's honesty and no theories +founded on purely physical attributes could swerve them. They kept the +conversation to themselves, but Todd left town feeling that he had lost +the confidence of two of his former friends. + +It was about a month later that he ran into Weldon, the Federal Bank +Examiner for that section of the country, and managed to make a few +discreet inquiries about Rockwell and the Central Trust Company without, +however, obtaining even a nibble. + +"Everything's flourishing," was the verdict. "Accounts straight as a +string and they appear to be doing an excellent business. Fairly heavy +on notes, it's true, but they're all well indorsed. Why'd you ask? Any +reason to suspect anyone?" + +"Not the least," lied Todd. "It's my home town, you know, and I know a +lot of people who bank at the C. T. C. Just like to keep in touch with +how things are going. By the way, when do you plan to make your next +inspection?" + +"Think I'll probably be in there next Wednesday. Want me to say 'Hello' +to anybody?" + +"No, I'm not popular in certain quarters," Todd laughed. "They say I +have too many theories--go off half cocked and all that sort of thing." + +Nevertheless the Department of Justice operative arranged matters so +that he reached his home city on Tuesday of the following week, +discovering, by judicious inquiries, that the visit of the examiner had +not been forecast. In fact, he wasn't expected for a month or more. But +that's the way it is best to work. If bank officials know when to look +out for an examiner, they can often fix things on their books which +would not bear immediate inspection. + +Weldon arrived on schedule early the following morning, and commenced +his examination of the accounts of the First National, as was his habit. + +As soon as Todd knew that he was in town he took up his position outside +the offices of the Central Trust, selecting a vantage point which would +give him a clear view of both entrances of the bank. + +"Possibly," he argued to himself, "I am a damn fool. But just the same, +I have a mighty well-defined hunch that Mr. Rockwell isn't on the level, +and I ought to find out pretty soon." + +Then events began to move even quicker than he had hoped. + +The first thing he noted was that Jafferay, one of the bookkeepers of +the C. T. C., slipped out of a side door of the bank and dropped a +parcel into the mail box which stood beside the entrance. Then, a few +minutes later, a messenger came out and made his way up the street to +the State National, where--as Todd, who was on his heels--had little +trouble in discovering--he cashed a cashier's check for one hundred and +fifty thousand dollars, returning to the Central Trust Company with the +money in his valise. + +"Of course," Todd reasoned, "Rockwell may be ignorant of the fact that +Weldon doesn't usually get around to the State National until he has +inspected all the other banks. Hence the check will have already gone to +the clearing house and will appear on the books merely as an item of one +hundred and fifty thousand dollars due, rather than as a check from the +Central Trust. Yes, he may be ignorant of the fact--but it does look +funny. Wonder what that bookkeeper mailed?" + +Working along the last line of reasoning, the government operative +stopped at the post office long enough to introduce himself to the +postmaster, present his credentials, and inquire if the mail from the +box outside the Central Trust Company had yet been collected. Learning +that it had, he asked permission to inspect it. + +"You can look it over if you wish," stated the postmaster, "but, of +course, I have no authority to allow you to open any of it. Even the +Postmaster-General himself couldn't do that." + +"Certainly," agreed Todd. "I merely want to see the address on a certain +parcel and I'll make affidavit, if you wish, that I have reason to +suppose that the mails are being used for illegal purposes." + +"That won't be necessary. We'll step down to the parcel room and soon +find out what you want." + +Some five minutes later Todd learned that the parcel which he +recognized--a long roll covered with wrapping paper, so that it was +impossible to gain even an idea of what it contained--was addressed to +Jafferay, the bookkeeper, at his home address. + +"Thanks! Now if you can give me some idea of when this'll be delivered I +won't bother you any more. About five o'clock this afternoon? Fine!" and +the man from Washington was out of the post office before anyone could +inquire further concerning his mission. + +A telephone call disclosed the fact that Weldon was then making his +examination of the Central Trust Company books and could not be +disturbed, but Todd managed to get him later in the afternoon and made +an appointment for dinner, on the plea of official business which he +wished to discuss. + +That afternoon he paid a visit to the house of a certain Mr. Jafferay +and spent an hour in a vain attempt to locate the bank examiner. + +Promptly at six o'clock that official walked into Todd's room at the +hotel, to find the operative pacing restlessly up and down, visibly +excited and clutching what appeared to be a roll of paper. + +"What's the matter?" asked Weldon. "I'm on time. Didn't keep you waiting +a minute?" + +"No!" snapped Todd, "but where have you been for the last hour? Been +trying to reach you all over town." + +"Great Scott! man, even a human adding machine has a right to take a +little rest now and then. If you must know, I've been getting a shave +and a haircut. Anything criminal in that?" + +"Can't say that there is," and Todd relaxed enough to smile at his +vehemence. "But there is in this," unrolling the parcel that he still +held and presenting several large sheets of ruled paper for the +examiner's attention. "Recognise them?" + +"They appear to be loose leaves from the ledgers at the Central Trust +Company." + +"Precisely. Were they there when you went over the books this morning?" + +"I don't recall them, but it's possible they may have been." + +"No--they weren't. One of the bookkeepers mailed them to himself, at his +home address, while you were still at the First National. If I hadn't +visited his house this afternoon, in the guise of a book agent, and +taken a long chance by lifting this roll of paper, he'd have slipped +them back in place in the morning and nobody'd been any the wiser." + +"Then you mean that the bookkeeper is responsible for falsifying the +accounts?" + +"Only partially. Was the cash O. K. at the Central Trust?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Do you recall any record of a check for one hundred and fifty thousand +dollars upon the State National drawn and cashed this morning?" + +"No, there was no such check." + +"Yes, there was. I was present when the messenger cashed it and he took +the money back to the C. T. C. They knew you wouldn't get around to the +State before morning, and by that time the check would have gone to the +clearing house, giving them plenty of time to make the cash balance to a +penny." + +"Whom do you suspect of manipulating the funds?" + +"The man who signed the check--Rockwell, the cashier! That's why I was +trying to get hold of you. I haven't the authority to demand admittance +to the Central Trust vaults, but you have. Then, if matters are as I +figure them, I'll take charge of the case as an agent of the Department +of Justice." + +"Come on!" was Weldon's response. "We'll get up there right away, No use +losing time over it!" + +At the bank, however, they were told that the combination to the vault +was known to only three persons--the president of the bank, Rockwell, +and the assistant cashier. The president, it developed, was out of +town. Rockwell's house failed to answer the phone, and it was a good +half hour before the assistant cashier put in an appearance. + +When, in compliance with Weldon's orders, he swung back the heavy doors +which guarded the vault where the currency was stored, he swung around, +amazed. + +"It's empty!" he whispered. "Not a thing there save the bags of coin. +Why, I put some two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in paper money in +there myself this afternoon!" + +"Who was here at the time?" demanded Todd. + +"Only Mr. Rockwell. I remember distinctly that he said he would have to +work a little longer, but that there wouldn't be any necessity for my +staying. So I put the money in there, locked the door, and went on +home." + +"Do you know where Rockwell is now?" + +"At his house, I suppose. He lives at--" + +"I know where he lives," snapped Todd. "I also know that he isn't there. +I've had the place watched since five o'clock this afternoon--but +Rockwell hasn't shown up. Like the money--I think we can say 'with the +money'--he's gone, disappeared, vanished." + +"Then," said Weldon, "it is up to you to find him. My part of the job +ceased the moment the shortage was disclosed." + +"I know that and if you'll attend to making a report on the matter, +order the arrest of Jafferay, and spread the report of Rockwell's +embezzlement through police circles, I'll get busy on my own hook. +Good-by." And an instant later Todd was hailing a taxi and ordering the +chauffeur to break all the speed laws in reaching the house where +Rockwell boarded. + +Examination of the cashier's room and an extended talk with the +landlady failed, however, to disclose anything which might be termed a +clue. The missing official had visited the house shortly after noon, but +had not come back since the bank closed. He had not taken a valise or +suit case with him, declared the mistress of the house, but he had seemed +"just a leetle bit upset." + +Quickly, but efficiently, Todd examined the room--even inspecting the +bits of paper in the wastebasket and pawing over the books which lined +the mantel. Three of the former he slipped into his pocket and then, +turning, inquired: + +"Was Mr. Rockwell fond of cold weather?" + +"No, indeed," was the reply. "He hated winter. Said he never was +comfortable from November until May. He always--" + +But the "queer gentleman," as the landlady afterward referred to him, +was out of the house before she could detail her pet story of the +cashier's fondness for heat, no matter at what cost. + +No one at the station had seen Rockwell board a train, but inquiry at +the taxicab offices revealed the fact that a man, with his overcoat +collar turned up until it almost met his hat brim, had taken a cab for a +near-by town, where it would be easy for him to make connections either +north or south. + +Stopping only to wire Washington the bare outline of the case, with the +suggestion that the Canadian border be watched, "though it is almost +certain that Rockwell is headed south," Todd picked up the trail at the +railroad ticket office, some ten miles distant, and found that a man +answering to the description of his prey had bought passage as far as +St. Louis. But, despite telegraphic instructions, the Saint Louis police +were unable to apprehend anyone who looked like Rockwell and the +government operative kept right on down the river, stopping at Memphis +to file a message to the authorities in New Orleans. + +It was precisely a week after the looting of the Central Trust Company +that Todd stood on the docks in New Orleans, watching the arrival of the +passengers and baggage destined to go aboard the boat for Honduras. +Singly and in groups they arrived until, when the "all ashore" signal +sounded, the operative began to wonder if he were really on the right +trail. Then, at the last minute, a cab drove up and a woman, apparently +suffering from rheumatism, made her way toward the boat. Scenting a tip, +two stewards sprang to assist her, but Todd beat them to it. + +"Pardon me, madam," he said, "may I not--Drat that fly!" and with that +he made a pass at something in front of his face and accidentally +brushed aside the veil which hid the woman's face. + +He had barely time to realize that, as he had suspected, it was +Rockwell, disguised, before the "woman" had slipped out of the light +wrap which she had been wearing and was giving him what he later +admitted was the "scrap of his life." In fact, for several moments he +not only had to fight Rockwell, but several bystanders as well--for they +had only witnessed what they supposed was a totally uncalled for attack +upon a woman. In the mixup that followed Rockwell managed to slip away +and, before Todd had a chance to recover, was halfway across the street, +headed for the entrance to a collection of shanties which provided an +excellent hiding place. + +Tearing himself loose, Todd whipped out his revolver and fired at the +figure just visible in the gathering dusk, scoring a clean shot just +above the ankle--a flesh wound, that ripped the leg muscles without +breaking a bone. With a groan of despair Rockwell toppled over, clawing +wildly in an attempt to reach his revolver. But Todd was on top of him +before the cashier could swing the gun into action, and a pair of +handcuffs finished the career of the man who had planned to loot the C. +T. C. of a quarter million in cold cash. + +"The next time you try a trick like that," Todd advised him, on the +train that night, "be careful what you leave behind in your room. The +two torn letterheads of the Canadian Pacific nearly misled me, but the +other one referring to the Honduran line, plus the book on Honduras and +the fact that your landlady stated that you hated cold weather, gave you +dead away. Of course, even without that, it was a toss-up between Canada +and Central America. Those are the only two places where an embezzler is +comparatively safe these days. I hope, for the sake of your comfort, +they give you plenty of blankets in Joliet." + + * * * * * + +Quinn paused a moment to repack his pipe, and then, "So far as I know, +he's still handling the prison finances," he added. "Yes--they found at +the trial that he had had a clean record up to the moment he slipped, +but the criminal tendencies were there and he wasn't able to resist +temptation. He had speculated with the bank funds, covered his shortages +by removing the pages from the ledger and kiting checks through the +State National, and then determined to risk everything in one grand +clean-up. + +"He might have gotten away with it, too, if Todd hadn't spotted the +peculiarities which indicated moral weakness. However, you can't always +tell. No one who knew Mrs. Armitage would have dreamed that she +was--what she was." + +"Well," I inquired, "what was she?" + +"That's what puzzled Washington and the State Department for several +months," replied Quinn. "It's too long a story to spin to-night. That's +her picture up there, if you care to study her features." + +And I went home wondering what were the crimes of which such a beautiful +woman could have been guilty. + + + + +XXIII + +THE CASE OF MRS. ARMITAGE + + +To look at him no one would have thought that Bill Quinn had a trace of +sentiment in his make-up. Apparently he was just the grizzled old +veteran of a hundred battles with crime, the last of which--a raid on a +counterfeiter's den in Long Island--had laid him up with a game leg and +a soft berth in the Treasury Department, where, for years he had been an +integral part of the United States Secret Service. + +But in the place of honor in Quinn's library-den there hung the +photograph of a stunningly handsome woman, her sable coat thrown back +just enough to afford a glimpse of a throat of which Juno might have +been proud, while in her eyes there sparkled a light which seemed to +hint at much but reveal little. It was very evident that she belonged to +a world entirely apart from that of Quinn, yet the very fact that her +photograph adorned the walls of his den proved that she had been +implicated in some case which had necessitated Secret Service +investigation--for the den was the shrine of relics relating to cases in +which Quinn's friends had figured. + +Finally, one evening I gathered courage to inquire about her. + +"Armitage was her name," Quinn replied. "Lelia Armitage. At least that +was the name she was known by in Washington, and even the investigations +which followed Melville Taylor's exposure of her foreign connections +failed to reveal that she had been known by any other, save her maiden +name of Lawrence." + +"Where is she now?" I asked. + +"You'll have to ask me something easier," and Quinn smiled, a trifle +wistfully, I thought. "Possibly in London, perhaps in Paris, maybe in +Rio or the Far East. But wherever she is, the center of attention is not +very far away from her big violet-black eyes. Also the police of the +country where she is residing probably wish that they had never been +burdened with her." + +"You mean--" + +"That she was a crook? Not as the word is usually understood. But more +than one string of valuable pearls or diamonds has disappeared when +milady Armitage was in the neighborhood--though they were never able to +prove that she had lifted a thing. No, her principal escapade in this +country brought her into contact with the Secret Service, rather than +the police officials--which is probably the reason she was nailed with +the goods. You remember the incident of the 'leak' in the peace note, +when certain Wall Street interests cleaned up millions of dollars?" + +"Perfectly. Was she to blame for that?" + +"They never settled who was to blame for it, but Mrs. Armitage was +dealing through a young and decidedly attractive Washington broker at +the time and her account mysteriously multiplied itself half a dozen +times. + +"Then there was the affair of the Carruthers Code, the one which +ultimately led to her exposure at the hands of Taylor and Madelaine +James." + + * * * * * + +The Carruthers Code [Quinn went on] was admittedly the cleverest and yet +the simplest system of cipher communication ever devised on this side +of the Atlantic, with the possible exception of the one mentioned in +Jules Verne's "Giant Raft"--the one that Dr. Heinrich Albert used with +such success. Come to think of it, Verne wasn't an American, was he? He +ought to have been, though. He invented like one. + +In some ways the Carruthers system was even more efficient than the +Verne cipher. You could use it with less difficulty, for one thing, and +the key was susceptible of an almost infinite number of variations. Its +only weakness lay in the fact that the secret had to be written +down--and it was in connection with the slip of paper which contained +this that Mrs. Armitage came into prominence. + +For some two years Lelia Armitage had maintained a large and expensive +establishment on Massachusetts Avenue, not far from Sheridan Circle. +Those who claimed to know stated that there had been a Mr. Armitage, but +that he had died, leaving his widow enough to make her luxuriously +comfortable for the remainder of her life. In spite of the incidents of +the jeweled necklaces, no one took the trouble to inquire into Mrs. +Armitage's past until the leak in connection with the peace note and the +subsequent investigation of Paul Connor's brokerage house led to the +discovery that her name was among those who had benefited most largely +by the advance information. + +It was at that time that Melville Taylor was detailed to dig back into +her history and see what he could discover. As was only natural, he went +at once to Madelaine James, who had been of assistance to the Service in +more than one Washington case which demanded feminine finesse, plus an +intimate knowledge of social life in the national capital. + +"Madelaine," he inquired, "what do you know of a certain Mrs. Lelia +Armitage?" + +"Nothing particularly--except that one sees her everywhere. Apparently +has plenty of money. Supposed to have gotten it from her husband, who +has been dead for some time. Dresses daringly but expensively, +and--while there are at least a score of men, ranging all the way from +lieutenants in the army to captains of industry, who would like to marry +her--she has successfully evaded scandal and almost gotten away from +gossip." + +"Where'd she come from?" + +"London, I believe, by way of New York. Maiden name was Lawrence and the +late but not very lamented Mr. Armitage was reputed to have made his +money in South Africa." + +"All of which," commented Taylor, "is rather vague--particularly for +purposes of a detailed report." + +"Report? In what connection?" + +"Her name appears on the list of Connor's clients as one of the ones who +cleaned up on the 'leak.' Sold short and made a barrel of money when +stocks came down. The question is, Where did she get the tip?" + +"Possibly from Paul Connor himself." + +"Possibly--but I wish you'd cultivate her acquaintance and see if you +can pick up anything that would put us on the right track." + +But some six weeks later when Taylor was called upon to make a report of +his investigations he had to admit that the sheet was a blank. + +"Chief," he said, "either the Armitage woman is perfectly innocent or +else she's infernally clever. I've pumped everyone dry about her, and a +certain friend of mine, whom you know, has made a point of getting next +to the lady herself. She's dined there a couple of times and has talked +to her at a dozen teas and receptions. But without success. Mrs. +Armitage has been very frank and open about what she calls her 'good +fortune' on the stock market. Says she followed her intuition and sold +short when everyone else was buying. What's more, she says it with such +a look of frank honesty that, according to Madelaine, you almost have to +believe her." + +"Has Miss James been able to discover anything of the lady's past +history?" + +"Nothing more than we already know--born in England--husband made a +fortune in South Africa--died and left it to her. Have you tried tracing +her from the other side?" + +"Yes, but they merely disclaim all knowledge of her. Don't even +recognize the description. That may mean anything. Well," and chief +sighed rather disconsolately, for the leak puzzle had been a knotty one +from the start, "I guess we'd better drop her. Too many other things +going on to worry about a woman whose only offense seems to be an +intuitive knowledge of the way Wall Street's going to jump." + +It was at that moment that Mahoney, assistant to the chief, came in with +the information that the Secretary of State desired the presence of the +head of the Secret Service in his office immediately. + +In answer to a snapped, "Come along--this may be something that you can +take care of right away!" Taylor followed the chief to the State +Department, where they were soon closeted with one of the under +secretaries. + +"You are familiar with the Carruthers Code?" inquired the Assistant +Secretary. + +"I know the principle on which it operates," the chief replied, "but I +can't say that I've ever come into contact with it." + +"So far as we know," went on the State Department official, "it is the +most efficient cipher system in the world--simple, easy to operate, +almost impossible to decode without the key, and susceptible of being +changed every day, or every hour if necessary, without impairing its +value. However, in common with every other code, it has this +weakness--once the key is located the entire system is practically +valueless. + +"When did you discover the disappearance of the code secret?" asked +Taylor, examining his cigarette with an exaggerated display of interest. + +"How did you know it was lost?" demanded the Under Secretary. + +"I didn't--but the fact that your chief sent for mine and then you +launch into a dissertation on the subject of the code itself is open to +but one construction--some one has lifted the key to the cipher." + +"Yes, some one has. At least, it was in this safe last night"--here a +wave of his hand indicated a small and rather old-fashioned strong box +in the corner--"and it wasn't there when I arrived this morning. I +reported the matter to the Secretary and he asked me to give you the +details." + +"You are certain that the cipher was there last evening?" asked the +chief. + +"Not the cipher itself--at least not a code-book as the term is +generally understood," explained the Under Secretary. "That's one of the +beauties of the Carruthers system. You don't have to lug a bulky book +around with you all the time. A single slip of paper--a cigarette paper +would answer excellently--will contain the data covering a man's +individual code. The loss or theft of one of these would be +inconvenient, but not fatal. The loss of the master key, which was in +that safe, is irreparable. If it once gets out of the country it means +that the decoding of our official messages is merely a question of time, +no matter how often we switch the individual ciphers." + +"What was the size of the master key, as you call it?" + +"Merely a slip of government bond, about six inches long by some two +inches deep." + +"Was it of such a nature that it could have been easily copied?" + +"Yes, but anything other than a careful tracing or a photographic copy +would be valueless. The position of the letters and figures mean as much +as the marks themselves. Whoever took it undoubtedly knows this and will +endeavor to deliver the original--as a mark of good faith, if nothing +else." + +"Was this the only copy in existence?" + +"There are two others--one in the possession of the Secretary, the other +in the section which has charge of decoding messages. Both of these are +safe, as I ascertained as soon as I discovered that my slip was +missing." + +A few more questions failed to bring out anything more about the mystery +beyond the fact that the Assistant Secretary was certain that he had +locked the safe the evening before and he knew that he had found it +locked when he arrived that morning. + +"All of which," as Taylor declared, "means but little. The safe is of +the vintage of eighteen seventy, the old-fashioned kind where you can +hear the tumblers drop clean across the room. Look!" and he pointed to +the japanned front of the safe where a circular mark, some two inches in +diameter, was visible close to the dial. + +"Yes, but what is it?" demanded the Secretary. + +"The proof that you locked the safe last night," Taylor responded. +"Whoever abstracted the cipher key opened the safe with the aid of some +instrument that enabled them clearly to detect the fall of the tumblers. +Probably a stethoscope, such as physicians use for listening to a +patient's heart. Perfectly simple when you know how--particularly with +an old model like this." + +Finding that there was no further information available, Taylor and the +chief left the department, the chief to return to headquarters, Taylor +to endeavor to pick up the trail wherever he could. + +"It doesn't look like an inside job," was the parting comment of the +head of the Secret Service. "Anyone who had access to the safe would +have made some excuse to discover the combination, rather than rely on +listening to the click of the tumblers. Better get after the night +watchman and see if he can give you a line on any strangers who were +around the building last night." + +But the night watchman when roused from his sound forenoon's sleep was +certain that no one had entered the building on the previous evening +save those who had business there. + +"Everybody's got to use a pass now, you know," he stated. "I was on the +job all night myself an' divvle a bit of anything out of the ordinary +did I see. There was Mr. McNight and Mr. Lester and Mr. Greene on the +job in the telegraph room, and the usual crowd of correspondents over in +the press room, and a score of others who works there regular, an' Mrs. +Prentice, an'--" + +"Mrs. who?" interrupted Taylor. + +"Mrs. Prentice, wife of th' Third Assistant Secretary. She comes down +often when her husband is working late, but last night he must have gone +home just before she got there, for she came back a few minutes later +and said that the office was dark." + +Whatever Taylor's thoughts were at the moment he kept them to +himself--for Prentice was the man from whose safe the cipher key had +been abstracted! + +So he contented himself with inquiring whether the watchman was certain +that the woman who entered the building was Mrs. Prentice. + +"Shure an' I'm certain," was the reply. "I've seen her and that green +evening cape of hers trimmed with fur too often not to know her." + +"Do you know how long it was between the time that she entered the +building and the time she left?" persisted Taylor. + +"That I do not, sir. Time is something that you don't worry about much +when it's a matter of guarding the door to a building--particularly at +night. But I'd guess somewhere about five or ten minutes?" + +"Rather long for her to make her way to the office of her husband, find +he wasn't there, and come right back, wasn't it?" + +"Yes, sir--but you must remember I wasn't countin' the minutes, so to +speak. Maybe it was only three--maybe it was ten. Anyhow, it was just +nine-thirty when she left. I remember looking at the clock when she went +out." + +From the watchman's house, located well over in the northeastern section +of the city, Taylor made his way to Madelaine James's apartment on +Connecticut Avenue, discovering that young lady on the point of setting +off to keep a luncheon engagement. + +"I won't keep you a minute, Madelaine," promised the Secret Service +operative. "Just want to ask what you know about Mrs. Mahlon Prentice?" + +"Wife of the Third Assistant Secretary of State?" + +Taylor nodded. + +"She's a Chicago woman, I believe. Came here a couple of years ago when +her husband received his appointment. Rather good-looking and very +popular. I happened to be at a dinner with her last evening and--" + +"You what?" + +"I was at a dinner at the Westovers' last night," repeated the James +girl, "and Mrs. Prentice was among those present. Looked stunning, too. +What's the trouble?" + +"What time was the dinner?" Taylor countered. + +"Eight o'clock, but of course it didn't start until nearly +eight-thirty." + +"And what time did Mrs. Prentice leave?" + +"A few minutes after I did. She was just going up for her wraps as I +came downstairs at eleven o'clock." + +"You are certain that she was there all evening--that she didn't slip +out for half an hour or so?" + +"Of course I'm sure, Mell," the girl replied, a trace of petulance in +her voice. "Why all the questions? Do you suspect the wife of the Third +Assistant Secretary of State of robbing a bank?" + +"Not a bank," Taylor admitted, "but it happens that the safe in her +husband's office was opened last night and a highly important slip of +paper abstracted. What's more, the watchman on duty in the building is +ready to swear that Mrs. Prentice came in shortly before nine-thirty, +and went out some five or ten minutes later, stating that her husband +had evidently finished his work and left." + +"That's impossible! No matter what the watchman says, there are a score +of people who dined with Mrs. Prentice last evening and who know that +she didn't leave the Westovers' until after eleven. Dinner wasn't over +by nine-thirty, and she couldn't have gotten to the State Department and +back in less than twenty minutes at the inside. It's ridiculous, that's +all!" + +"But the watchman!" exclaimed Taylor. "He knows Mrs. Prentice and says +he couldn't miss that green-and-fur coat of hers in the dark. Besides, +she spoke to him as she was leaving." + +Madelaine James was silent for a moment, and a tiny frown appeared +between her eyes, evidence of the fact that she was doing some deep +thinking. + +Then: "Of course she spoke! Anyone who would go to the trouble of +copying Mrs. Prentice's distinctive cloak would realize that some +additional disguise was necessary. Last night, if you remember, was +quite cold. Therefore it would be quite natural that the woman who +impersonated Mrs. Prentice should have her collar turned up around her +face and probably a drooping hat as well. The collar, in addition to +concealing her features, would muffle her voice, while the watchman, not +suspecting anything, would take it for granted that the green cloak was +worn by the wife of the Under Secretary--particularly when she spoke to +him in passing." + +"You mean, then, that some one deliberately impersonated Mrs. Prentice +and took a chance on getting past the watchman merely because she wore a +cloak of the same color?" + +"The same color--the same style--practically the same coat," argued Miss +James. "What's more, any woman who would have the nerve to try that +would probably watch Prentice's office from the outside, wait for the +light to go out, and then stage her visit not more than five minutes +later, so's to make it appear plausible. How was the safe opened?" + +"Stethoscope. Placed the cup on the outside, and then listened to the +tumblers as they fell. Simplest thing in the world with an antiquated +box like that." + +"What's missing?" + +By this time Taylor felt that their positions had been reversed. He, who +had come to question, was now on the witness stand, while Madelaine +James was doing the cross-examining. But he didn't mind. He knew the way +the girl's mind worked, quickly and almost infallibly--her knowledge of +women in general and Washington society in particular making her an +invaluable ally in a case like this. + +"A slip of paper some six inches long and two inches wide," he said, +with a smile. "The key to the Carruthers Code, probably the most +efficient cipher in the world, but now rendered worthless unless the +original slip is located before it reaches some foreign power." + +"Right!" snapped Miss James. "Get busy on your end of the matter. See +what you can find out concerning this mysterious woman in the green +cloak. I'll work along other and what you would probably call strictly +unethical lines. I've got what a man would term a 'hunch,' but in a +woman it is 'intuition'--and therefore far more likely to be right. See +you later!" and with that she was off toward her car. + +"But what about your luncheon engagement?" Taylor called after her. + +"Bother lunch," she laughed back over her shoulder. "If my hunch is +right I'll make your chief pay for my meals for the next year!" + +The next that Taylor heard from his ally was a telephone call on the +following evening, instructing him to dig up his evening clothes and to +be present at a certain reception that evening. + +"I have reason to believe," said Madelaine's voice, "that the lady of +the second green cloak will be present. Anyhow, there'll be several of +your friends there--including myself, Mrs. Armitage, and an ambassador +who doesn't stand any too well with the Administration. In fact, I have +it on good authority that he's on the verge of being recalled. Naturally +we don't want him to take a slip of paper, some six inches by two, with +him!" + +"How do you know he hasn't it already?" + +"He doesn't return from New York until six o'clock this evening, and the +paper is far too valuable to intrust to the mails or to an underling. +Remember, I'm not certain that it is he who is supposed to get the paper +eventually, but I do know who impersonated Mrs. Prentice, and I likewise +know that the lady in question has not communicated with any foreign +official in person. Beyond that we'll have to take a chance on the +evening's developments," and the receiver was replaced before Taylor +could frame any one of the score of questions he wanted to ask. + +Even at the reception that night he was unable to get hold of Madelaine +James long enough to find out just what she did know. In fact, it was +nearly midnight before he caught the signal that caused him to enter one +of the smaller and rather secluded rooms apart from the main hall. + +There he found a tableau that was totally unexpected. + +In one corner of the room, her back against the wall and her teeth bared +in a snarl which distorted her usually attractive features into a mask +of hate, stood Mrs. Armitage. Her hands were crossed in front of her in +what appeared to be an unnatural attitude until Taylor caught a glimpse +of polished steel and realized that the woman had been handcuffed. + +"There," announced Madelaine, "in spite of your friend the watchman, +stands 'Mrs. Prentice.' You'll find the green cloak in one of the +closets at her home, and the stethoscope is probably concealed somewhere +around the house. However, that doesn't matter. The main thing is that +we have discovered the missing slip of paper. You'll find it on the +table over there." + +Taylor followed the girl's gesture toward a table at the side of the +room. But there, instead of the cipher key that he had expected, he saw +only--a gold bracelet! + +"What's the idea?" he demanded. "Where's the paper?" + +"Snap open the bracelet," directed the girl. "What do you see?" + +"It looks like--by gad! it is!--a tightly wrapped spindle of paper!" and +a moment later the original of the Carruthers Code reposed safely in the +Secret Service agent's vest pocket. As he tossed the empty bracelet back +on the table he heard a sound behind him and turned just in time to see +the woman in the corner slip to the floor in a dead faint. + +"Now that we've got her," inquired Madelaine James, "what'll we do with +her?" + +"Take off the handcuffs, leave the room, and close the door," directed +Taylor. "She'll hardly care to make any fuss when she comes to, and the +fact that she is unconscious gives us an excellent opportunity for +departing without a scene." + +"But what I'd like to know," he asked, as they strolled back toward the +main ballroom, "is how you engineered the affair?" + +"I told you I had an intuition," came the reply, "and you laughed at me. +Yes you did, too! It wasn't apparent on your face, but I could feel that +inside yourself you were saying, 'Just another fool idea.' But Mrs. +Armitage was preying on my mind. I didn't like the way she had slipped +one over on us in connection with the leak on the peace note. Then, too, +she seemed to have no visible means of support, but plenty of money. + +"I felt certain that she wasn't guilty of blackmail or any of the more +sordid kinds of crime, but the fact that she was on terms of familiarity +with a number of diplomats, and that she seemed to have a fondness for +army and navy officials, led me to believe that she was a sort of super +spy, sent over here for a specific purpose. The instant you mentioned +the Carruthers Code she sprang to my mind. A bill, slipped into the +fingers of her maid, brought the information about the green cloak, and +the rest was easy. + +"I figured that she'd have the cipher key on her to-night, for it was +her first opportunity of passing it along to the man I felt certain she +was working for. Sure enough, as she passed him about half an hour ago +she tapped her bracelet, apparently absent-mindedly. As soon as he was +out of sight I sent one of the maids with a message that some one wanted +to see her in one of the smaller rooms. Thinking that it was the +ambassador, she came at once. I was planted behind the door, handcuffed +her before she knew what I was doing, and then signaled you! + +"Quite elementary, my dear Melville, quite elementary!" + + * * * * * + +"That," added Quinn, "was the last they heard of Mrs. Armitage. Taylor +reported the matter at once, but the chief said that as they had the +code they better let well enough alone. The following day the woman left +Washington, and no one has heard from her since--except for a package +that reached Taylor some months later. There was nothing in it except +that photograph yonder, and, as Taylor was interested only in his bride, +_née_ Madelaine James, he turned it over to me for my collection." + + + + +XXIV + +FIVE INCHES OF DEATH + + +"Quinn," I said one evening when the veteran of the United States Secret +Service appeared to be in one of his story-spinning moods, "you've told +me of cases that have to do with smuggling and spies, robberies and +fingerprints and frauds, but you've never mentioned the one crime that +is most common in the annals of police courts and detective bureaus." + +"Murder?" inquired Quinn, his eyes shifting to the far wall of his +library-den. + +"Precisely. Haven't government detectives ever been instrumental in +solving a murder mystery?" + +"Yes, they've been mixed up in quite a few of them. There was the little +matter of the Hallowell case--where the crime and the criminal were +connected by a shoelace--and the incident of 'The Red Circle.' But +murder, as such, does not properly belong in the province of the +government detective. Only when it is accompanied by some breach of the +federal laws does it come under the jurisdiction of the men from +Washington. Like the Montgomery murder mystery, for example." + +"Oh yes, the one connected with the postmark that's framed on your wall +over there!" I exclaimed. "I'd forgotten about that. Hal Preston handled +it, didn't he--the same man responsible for running down 'The Trail of +the White Mice'?" + +"That's the one," said Quinn, and I was glad to see him settle +luxuriously back in his old armchair--for that meant that he was +preparing to recall the details of an adventure connected with a member +of one of the government detective services. + + * * * * * + +If it hadn't been for the fact that Preston was in California at the +time, working on the case of a company that was using the mails for +illegal purposes, it is extremely doubtful if the mystery would ever +have been solved [Quinn continued]; certainly not in time to prevent the +escape of the criminal. + +But Hal's investigations took him well up into the foot-hills of the +Sierra Nevadas, and one morning he awoke to find the whole town in which +he was stopping ablaze with a discussion of the "Montgomery mystery," as +they called it. + +It appeared from the details which Preston picked up in the lobby of his +hotel that Marshall Montgomery had settled down in that section of the +country some three years before, but that he had surrounded himself with +an air of aloofness and detachment which had made him none too popular. +Men who had called to see him on matters of business had left smarting +under the sting of an ill-concealed snub, while it was as much as a book +agent's life was worth to try to gain entrance to the house. + +"It wasn't that he was stingy or close-fisted," explained one of the men +who had known Montgomery. "He bought more Liberty Bonds than anyone else +in town--but he bought them through his bank. Mailed the order in, just +as he did with his contributions to the Red Cross and the other +charitable organizations. Wouldn't see one of the people who went out to +his place. In fact, they couldn't get past the six or eight bulldogs +that guard the house." + +"And yet," said Preston, "I understand that in spite of his precautions +he was killed last night?" + +"Nobody knows just when he was killed," replied the native, "or how. +That's the big question. When his servant, a Filipino whom he brought +with him, went to wake him up this morning he found Montgomery's door +locked. That in itself was nothing unusual--for every door and window in +the place was securely barred before nine o'clock in the evening. But +when Tino, the servant, had rapped several times without receiving any +reply, he figured something must be wrong. So he got a stepladder, +propped it up against the side of the house, and looked in through the +window. What he saw caused him to send in a hurry call for the police." + +"Well," snapped Preston, "what did he see?" + +"Montgomery, stretched out on the floor near the door, stone dead--with +a pool of blood that had formed from a wound in his hand!" + +"In his hand?" Preston echoed. "Had he bled to death?" + +"Apparently not--but that's where the queer angle to the case comes in. +The door was locked from the inside--not only locked, but bolted, so +there was no possibility of anyone having entered the room. The windows +were tightly guarded by a patented burglar-proof device which permitted +them to be open about three inches from the bottom, but prevented their +being raised from the outside." + +"Was there a chimney or any other possible entrance to the room?" + +"None at all. Three windows and a door. Montgomery's body was sprawled +out on the rug near the doorway--a revolver in his right hand, a bullet +hole through the palm of his left. The first supposition, of course, +was that he had accidentally shot himself and had bled to death. But +there wasn't enough blood for that. Just a few drops on the table and a +small pool near the body. They're going to hold an autopsy later in the +day and--" + +It was at that moment that the Post-office operative became conscious +that some one was calling his name, and, turning, he beckoned to the +bell-boy who was paging him. + +"Mr. Preston? Gentleman over there'd like to speak to you." Then the boy +added in a whisper, "Chief o' police." + +Excusing himself, Preston crossed the lobby to where a large and +official-looking man was standing, well out of hearing distance of the +guests who passed. + +"Is this Mr. Preston of the Postal Inspection Service?" inquired the +head of the local police force, adding, after the government operative +had nodded. "I am the chief of police here." + +"Glad to meet you, Chief," was Preston's response. "I haven't had the +pleasure of making your acquaintance, though of course I know you by +sight." (He neglected to add how recently this knowledge had been +acquired.) "What can I do for you?" + +"Have you heard about the murder of Montgomery Marshall?" + +"Only the few details that I picked up in the lobby just now. But a case +of that kind is entirely out of my line, you know." + +"Ordinarily it would be," agreed the other, "but here's something that I +think puts a different complexion on things," and he extended a +bloodstained scrap of paper for Preston to examine. + +"That was found under the dead man's hand," the chief continued. "As you +will note, it originally formed part of the wrapping of a +special-delivery parcel which reached Montgomery about eight o'clock +last night--just before the house was locked up, in fact. Tino, the +Filipino servant, signed for it and took it in, placing it upon the +table in the room in which his master was found this morning. The scrap +of paper you are holding is just enough to show the postmark +'Sacramento'--but it's quite evident that the package had something to +do with the murder." + +"Which is the reason that you want me to look into it, eh?" + +"That's the idea. I knew that you were in town, and the very fact that +this box came through the mails makes it necessary for the Post-office +Department to take cognizance of what otherwise would be a job for the +police force alone. Am I right?" + +"Perfectly," replied Preston. "Provided you have reason to believe that +there was some connection between the special-delivery package and the +crime itself. What was in the box?" + +"Not a thing!" + +"What?" + +"Not a thing!" repeated the chief. "Perfectly empty--at least when we +found it. The lid was lying on the table, the rest of the box on the +floor. The major portion of the wrapping paper had been caught under a +heavy paper weight and it appears that Montgomery, in falling, caught at +the table to save himself and probably ripped away the scrap of paper I +have just given you." + +"But I thought his body was found near the door?" + +"It was, but that isn't far from the table, which is jammed against the +wall in front of one of the windows. Come on up to the house with me +and we'll go over the whole thing." + +Glad of the excuse to look into a crime which appeared to be +inexplicable, Preston accompanied the chief to the frame dwelling on the +outskirts of town where Montgomery Marshall, hermit, had spent the last +three years of his life. + +The house was set well back from the road, with but a single gateway in +a six-foot wall of solid masonry, around the top of which ran several +strands of barbed wire. + +"Montgomery erected the wall himself," explained the chief. "Had it put +up before he ever moved into the house, and then, in addition, kept a +bunch of the fiercest dogs I ever knew." + +"All of which goes to prove that he feared an attack," Preston muttered. +"In spite of his precautions, however, they got him! The question now +is: Who are 'they' and how did they operate?" + +The room in which the body had been found only added to the air of +mystery which surrounded the entire problem. + +In spite of what he had been told Preston had secretly expected to find +some kind of an opening through which a man could have entered. But +there was none. The windows, as the Postal operative took care to test +for himself, were tightly locked, though open a few inches from the +bottom. The bolt on the door very evidently had been shattered by the +entrance of the police, and the dark-brown stain on the rug near the +door showed plainly where the body had been found. + +"When we broke in," explained the chief, "Montgomery was stretched out +there, facing the door. The doctor said that he had been dead about +twelve hours, but that it was impossible for the wound in his hand to +have caused his death." + +"How about a poisoned bullet, fired through the opening in the window?" + +"Not a chance! The only wound on the body was the one through the palm +of his hand. The bullet had struck on the outside of the fleshy part +near the wrist and had plowed its way through the bone, coming out near +the base of the index finger at the back. And it was a bullet from his +own revolver! We found it embedded in the top of the table there." And +the chief pointed to a deep scar in the mahogany and to the marks made +by the knives of the police when they had dug the bullet out. + +"But how do you know it wasn't a bullet of the same caliber, fired from +outside the window?" persisted Preston. + +For answer the chief produced Montgomery's revolver, with five +cartridges still in the chambers. + +"If you'll note," he said, "each of these cartridges is scored or +seamed. That's an old trick--makes the lead expand when it hits and +tears an ugly hole, just like a 'dum-dum.' The bullet we dug out of the +table was not only a forty-five, as these are, but it had been altered +in precisely the same manner. So, unless you are inclined to the +coincidence that the murderer used a poisoned bullet of the same size +and make and character as those in Montgomery's gun, you've got to +discard that theory." + +"Does look like pulling the long arm of coincidence out of its socket," +Preston agreed. "So I guess we'll have to forget it. Where's the box you +were talking about?" + +"The lid is on the table, just as we found it. The lower portion of the +box is on the floor, where the dead man apparently knocked it when he +fell. Except for the removal of the body, nothing in the room has been +touched." + +Stooping, Preston picked up the box and then proceeded to study it in +connection with the lid and the torn piece of wrapping paper upon the +table. It was after he had examined the creases in the paper, fitting +them carefully around the box itself, that he inquired: "Do you notice +anything funny about the package, Chief?" + +"Only that there's a hole at one end of it, just about big enough to put +a lead pencil through." + +"Yes, and that same hole appears in the wrapping paper," announced +Preston. "Couple that with the fact that the box was empty when you +found it and I think we will have--" + +"What?" demanded the chief, as Preston paused. + +"The solution to the whole affair," was the reply. "Or, at least, as +much of it as refers to the manner in which Montgomery met his death. By +the way, what do you know about the dead man?" + +"Very little. He came here some three years ago, bought this place, +paying cash for it; had the wall built, and then settled down. Never +appeared to do any work, but was never short of money. Has a balance of +well over fifty thousand dollars in the bank right now. Beyond the fact +that he kept entirely to himself and refused to allow anyone but Tino, +his servant, to enter the gate, he really had few eccentricities. Some +folks say that he was a miser, but there are a dozen families here that +wouldn't have had any Christmas dinner last year if it hadn't been for +him--while his contribution to the Red Cross equaled that of anyone in +town." + +"Apart from his wanting to be alone, then, he was pretty close to being +human?" + +"That's it, exactly--and most of us have some peculiarity. If we didn't +have we'd be even more unusual." + +"What about Tino, the servant?" queried Preston. + +"I don't think there's any lead there," the chief replied. "I hammered +away at him for an hour this morning. He doesn't speak English any too +well, but I gathered that Montgomery picked him up in the Philippines +just before he came over here. The boy was frightened half out of his +senses when I told him that his master had been killed. You've got to +remember, though, that if Tino had wanted to do it he had a thousand +opportunities in the open. Besides, what we've got to find out first is +how Montgomery met his death?" + +"Does the Filipino know anything about his master's past?" asked +Preston, ignoring the chief's last remark. + +"He says not. Montgomery was on his way back to the States from Africa +or some place--stopped off in the islands--spent a couple of months +there--hired Tino and sailed for San Francisco." + +"Africa--" mused the Postal operative. Then, taking another track, he +inquired whether the chief had found out if Montgomery was in the habit +of getting much mail, especially from foreign points. + +"Saunders, the postmaster, says he didn't average a letter a month--and +those he did get looked like advertisements. They remembered this +special-delivery package last night because it was the first time that +the man who brought it out had ever come to the house. He rang the bell +at the gate, he says, turned the box over to Tino, and went along." + +"Any comment about the package?" + +"Only that it was very light and contained something that wabbled +around. I asked him because I figured at the time that the revolver +might have been in it. But the Filipino has identified that as +Montgomery's own gun. Says he'd had it as long as he'd known him." + +"Then all we know about this mysterious box," summarized Preston, "is +that it was mailed from Sacramento, that it wasn't heavy, that it had a +hole about a quarter-inch wide at one end, and that it contained +something that--what was the word the special-delivery man +used--'wabbled'?" + +"That's the word. I remember because I asked him if he didn't mean +'rattled,' and he said, 'No, wabbled, sort o' dull-like.'" + +"At any rate, that clears up one angle of the case. The box was not +empty when it was delivered! Granting that the Filipino was telling the +truth, it was not empty when he placed it on the table in this room! +That means that it was not empty when Marshall Montgomery, after locking +and bolting his door, took off the wrapping paper and lifted the lid! +You've searched the room thoroughly, of course?" + +"Every inch of it. We didn't leave a--" + +But the chief suddenly halted, his sentence unfinished. To the ears of +both men there had come a sound, faint but distinct. The sound of the +rattling of paper somewhere in the room. + +Involuntarily Preston whirled and scrutinized the corner from which the +sound appeared to have come. The chief's hand had slipped to his hip +pocket, but after a moment of silence he withdrew it and a slightly +shamefaced look spread over his face. + +"Sounded like a ghost, didn't it?" he asked. + +"Ghosts don't rattle papers," snapped Preston. "At least self-respecting +ones don't, and the other kind haven't any right to run around loose. So +suppose we try to trap this one." + +"Trap it? How?" + +"Like you'd trap a mouse--only with a different kind of bait. Is there +any milk in the house?" + +"Possibly--I don't know." + +"Go down to the refrigerator and find out, will you? I'll stay here +until you return. And bring a saucer with you." + +A few moments later, when the chief returned, bearing a bottle of milk +and a saucer, he found Preston still standing beside the table, his eyes +fixed upon a corner of the room from which the sound of rattling paper +had come. + +"Now all we need is a box," said the Postal operative. "I saw one out in +the hall that will suit our purposes excellently." + +Securing the box, he cut three long and narrow strips from the sides, +notched them and fitted them together in a rough replica of the figure +4, with the lower point of the upright stick resting on the floor beside +the saucer of milk and the wooden box poised precariously at the +junction of the upright and the slanting stick. + +"A figure-four trap, eh?" queried the chief. "What do you expect to +catch?" + +"A mixture of a ghost and the figure of Justice," was Preston's +enigmatic reply. "Come on--we'll lock the door and return later to see +if the trap has sprung. Meanwhile, I'll send some wires to Sacramento, +San Francisco, and other points throughout the state." + +The telegram, of which he gave a copy to the local chief of police, "in +order to save the expense of sending it," read: + + Wire immediately if you know anything of recent arrival from + Africa--probably American or English--who landed within past + three days. Wanted in connection with Montgomery murder. + +The message to San Francisco ended with the phrase "Watch outgoing boats +closely," and that to Sacramento "Was in your city yesterday." + +Hardly an hour later the phone rang and a voice from police +headquarters in Sacramento asked to speak to "Postal Inspector Preston." + +"Just got your wire," said the voice, "and I think we've got your man. +Picked him up on the street last night, unconscious. Hospital people say +he's suffering from poisoning of some kind and don't expect him to live. +Keeps raving about diamonds and some one he calls 'Marsh.' Papers on him +show he came into San Francisco two days ago on the _Manu_. Won't tell +his name, but has mentioned Cape Town several times." + +"Right!" cried Preston. "Watch him carefully until I get there. I'll +make the first train out." + +That afternoon Preston, accompanied by two chiefs of police, made his +way into a little room off the public ward in the hospital in +Sacramento. In bed, his face drawn and haggard until the skin seemed +like parchment stretched tightly over his cheekbones, lay a man at the +point of death--a man who was only kept alive, according to the +physicians, by some almost superhuman effort of the will. + +"It's certain that he's been poisoned," said the doctor in charge of the +case, "but he won't tell us how. Just lies there and glares and demands +a copy of the latest newspaper. Every now and then he drifts off into +delirium, but just when we think he's on the point of death he +recovers." + +Motioning to the others to keep in the background, Preston made his way +to the bedside of the dying man. Then, bending forward, he said, very +clearly and distinctly: "Marshall Montgomery is dead!" + +Into the eyes of the other man there sprang a look of concentrated +hatred that was almost tangible--a glare that turned, a moment later, +into supreme relief. + +"Thank God!" he muttered. "Now I'm ready to die!" + +"Tell me," said Preston, quietly--"tell me what made you do it." + +"He did!" gasped the man on the bed. "He and his damned brutality. When +I knew him his name was Marsh. We dug for diamonds together in South +Africa--found them, too--enough to make us both rich for life. But our +water was running low--barely enough for one of us. He, the skunk, hit +me over the head and left me to die--taking the water and the stones +with him." + +He paused a moment, his breath rattling in his throat, and then +continued: + +"It took me five years to find him--but you say he's dead? You're not +lying?" + +Preston shook his head slowly and the man on the bed settled back and +closed his eyes, content. + +"Ask him," insisted the chief of police, "how he killed Montgomery?" + +In a whisper that was barely audible came the words: "Sheep-stinger. Got +me first." Then his jaws clicked and there was the unmistakable gurgle +which meant that the end had come. + +"Didn't he say 'sheep-stinger'?" asked the chief of police, after the +doctor had stated that the patient had slipped away from the hands of +the law. + +"That's what it sounded like to me," replied Preston. "But suppose we go +back to Montgomery's room and see what our ghost trap has caught. I told +you I expected to land a figure of Justice--and if ever a man deserved +to be killed it appears to have been this same Montgomery Marshall, or +Marsh, as this man knew him." + +The instant they entered the room it was apparent that the trap had +sprung, the heavy box falling forward and completely covering the saucer +of milk and whatever had disturbed the carefully balanced sticks. + +Warning the chief to be careful, Preston secured a poker from an +adjoining room, covered the box with his automatic, and then carefully +lifted the box, using the poker as a lever. + +A second later he brought the head of the poker down on something that +writhed and twisted and then lay still, blending in with the pattern of +the carpet in such a manner as to be almost invisible. + +"A snake!" cried the chief. "But such a tiny one! Do you mean to say +that its bite is sufficiently poisonous to kill a man?" + +"Not only one, but two," Preston declared, "as you've seen for yourself. +See that black mark, like an inverted V, upon the head? That's +characteristic of the cobra family, and this specimen--common to the +veldts of South Africa where he is known as the 'sheep stinger'--is +first cousin to the big king cobras. Montgomery's former partner +evidently brought him over from Africa with this idea in mind. But when +he was packing him in the box--the airhole in the end of it gave me the +first inkling, by the way--he got careless and the snake bit him. Only +medical attention saved his life until this afternoon, else he'd have +passed along before Montgomery. I think that closes the case, Chief, and +in spite of the fact that the mails were used for a distinctly illegal +purpose, I believe your department ought to handle the matter--not +mine." + +"But the trap--the milk? How'd you happen to hit on that?" + +"When you told me what the special-delivery man said about the contents +of the package 'wabbling' I figured that the box must have contained a +snake," explained the Postal operative. "An animal would have made some +noise, while a snake, if well fed, will lie silent for hours at a time. +The constant motion, however, would have made it irritable--so that it +struck the moment Montgomery removed the lid of the box. That explains +the wound in his hand. He knew his danger and deliberately fired, hoping +to cauterize the wound and drive out the poison. It was too quick for +him, though, or possibly the shock stunned him so that he fell. + +"Then, in spite of the fact that your men claimed to have searched the +room thoroughly, that noise in the corner warned me that whatever killed +Montgomery was still here. Going on the theory that the majority of +snakes are fond of milk, I rigged up the trap. And there you are!" + + * * * * * + +"Yes," concluded Quinn, "the majority of the cases handled by government +detectives have to do with counterfeiting or smuggling or other crimes +against the federal law--offenses which ought to be exciting but which +are generally dull and prosaic. Every now and then, though, they stumble +across a real honest-to-goodness thrill, a story that's worth the +telling. + +"I've got to be away for the next couple of months or so, but drop +around when I get back and I'll see if I can't recall some more of the +problems that have been solved by one of the greatest, though least +known, detective agencies on the face of the earth." + + + THE END + + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Contents page changes made to agree with chapter headings: +"Lost--$100,000!"--quotes and exclamation point added. "The Double +Code"--quotes added. "Thirty Thousand," and again on P. 253--hyphen +removed (more frequent without). + +After Contents page, "On Secret Service" displays twice--once alone on +a page, and again above the Chapter I heading. One of the redundancies +has been deleted. + +Missing or incorrect punctuation repaired. + +Spelling errors fixed. + +Hyphenation variants changed to most frequently used version. + +P. 54 "Simpson lives" original reads "Simpson lived." + +P. 58 Thought break added for consistency. + +P. 89 "Douglass" changed to more frequently used "Douglas." + +P. 177 Code table: Original shows first number under q as "19." +Corrected to "17." + +P. 198 "well dressed" changed to "well-dressed." + +P. 221 two occurrences of "blonde" changed to more frequently used +"blond." + +Abbreviations "sub." and "ad." in original retained. + +"Charleston" and "Charlestown," "down town" and "downtown" (used +equally), "everyone" and "every one [of]," "résumé" (for summary) and +"resume" (for assume anew), "loath" (for unwilling) and "loathe" (for +abhor), "mix-up" and "mixup" (used equally), "anyone" and "any one" (a +single, particular one) were used in this text and retained. + +Also retained "flivvered" (P. 104). + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's On Secret Service, by William Nelson Taft + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON SECRET SERVICE *** + +***** This file should be named 38131-8.txt or 38131-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/1/3/38131/ + +Produced by David Edwards, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/38131-8.zip b/38131-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..976b82b --- /dev/null +++ b/38131-8.zip diff --git a/38131-h.zip b/38131-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e654265 --- /dev/null +++ b/38131-h.zip diff --git a/38131-h/38131-h.htm b/38131-h/38131-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c716616 --- /dev/null +++ b/38131-h/38131-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12484 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of On Secret Service, by William Nelson Taft. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + + +/* Vertical Spacing */ + +.medskip { +padding-top: 1em; +} + +.hugeskip { +padding-top: 3em; +} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.gap { +padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em;} + + +.signature { + margin-right: 30%; + text-align: right;} + + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} +.tnote {border:dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; +padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; padding-left: .5em; +padding-right: .5em;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of On Secret Service, by William Nelson Taft + +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: On Secret Service + Detective-Mystery Stories Based on Real Cases Solved By + Government Agents + +Author: William Nelson Taft + +Release Date: November 25, 2011 [EBook #38131] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON SECRET SERVICE *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="bbox"><p>Transcriber's Note: These stories have introductions which end with +thought breaks, sometimes with a closing quotation mark from the +storyteller. When the storyteller continues the story after the thought +break, opening quotation marks are consistently omitted.</p> + +<p>Remaining transcriber's notes are located at the end of the text.</p></div> +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 402px;"> +<img src="images/onsecretservice-cover.jpg" width="402" height="600" alt="On Secret Service +William Nelson Taft" title="Book cover" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/half-title.png" width="400" height="114" alt="Half-Title" title="On Secret Service" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<h1>ON SECRET SERVICE</h1> + +<h3><i>Detective-Mystery Stories<br /> +Based on Real Cases Solved<br /> +By Government Agents</i></h3> + +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>WILLIAM NELSON TAFT</h2> + +<div class="hugeskip"></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 157px;"> +<img src="images/titlepage.png" width="157" height="190" alt="" title="Logo" /> +</div> +<div class="hugeskip"></div> + +<h4>HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS<br /> +NEW YORK AND LONDON</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h5><span class="smcap">On Secret Service</span></h5> + +<h5>Copyright, 1921, by Harper & Brothers<br /> +Printed in the United States of America</h5> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="right"> </td><td align="left"> </td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left"><a href="#I"><span class="smcap">A Flash in the Night</span></a></td><td align="right">1</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left"><a href="#II"><span class="smcap">The Mint Mystery</span></a></td><td align="right">15</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left"><a href="#III"><span class="smcap">The Ypiranga Case</span></a></td><td align="right">28</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#IV"><span class="smcap">The Clue on Shelf 45</span></a></td><td align="right">42</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td align="left"><a href="#V"><span class="smcap">Phyllis Dodge, Smuggler Extraordinary</span></a></td><td align="right">57</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VI"><span class="smcap">A Matter of Record</span></a></td><td align="right">73</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VII"><span class="smcap">The Secret Still</span></a></td><td align="right">88</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VIII"><span class="smcap">The Taxicab Tangle</span></a></td><td align="right">103</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td align="left"><a href="#IX"><span class="smcap">A Match for the Government</span></a></td><td align="right">118</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X.</td><td align="left"><a href="#X"><span class="smcap">The Girl at the Switchboard</span></a></td><td align="right">133</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XI"><span class="smcap">"Lost—$100,000!"</span></a></td><td align="right">149</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XII"><span class="smcap">"The Double Code"</span></a></td><td align="right">164</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XIII"><span class="smcap">The Trail of the White Mice</span></a></td><td align="right">180</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XIV"><span class="smcap">Wah Lee and the Flower of Heaven</span></a></td><td align="right">195</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XV"><span class="smcap">The Man with Three Wives</span></a></td><td align="right">210</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XVI"><span class="smcap">After Seven Years</span></a></td><td align="right">225</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XVII"><span class="smcap">The Poison-pen Puzzle</span></a></td><td align="right">239</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XVIII"><span class="smcap">Thirty Thousand Yards of Silk</span></a></td><td align="right">254</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIX.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XIX"><span class="smcap">The Clue in the Classified Column</span></a></td><td align="right">268</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XX.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XX"><span class="smcap">In the Shadow of the Capitol</span></a></td><td align="right">283</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XXI"><span class="smcap">A Million-dollar Quarter</span></a></td><td align="right">298</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XXII">"<span class="smcap">The Looting of the C. T. C.</span>"</a></td><td align="right">313</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XXIII"><span class="smcap">The Case of Mrs. Armitage</span></a></td><td align="right">328</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XXIV"><span class="smcap">Five Inches of Death</span></a></td><td align="right">343</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ON_SECRET_SERVICE" id="ON_SECRET_SERVICE"></a>ON SECRET SERVICE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + +<h3>A FLASH IN THE NIGHT</h3> + + +<p>We were sitting in the lobby of the Willard, Bill Quinn and I, watching +the constant stream of politicians, pretty women, and petty office +seekers who drift constantly through the heart of Washington.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, under his breath, I heard Quinn mutter, "Hello!" and, +following his eyes, I saw a trim, dapper, almost effeminate-looking chap +of about twenty-five strolling through Peacock Alley as if he didn't +have a care in the world.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" I inquired. "Somebody who oughtn't to be here?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. He's got a perfect right to be anywhere he pleases, but I +didn't know he was home. Last time I heard of him he was in Seattle, +mixed up with those riots that Ole Hanson handled so well."</p> + +<p>"Bolshevist?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly," and Quinn smiled. "Don't you know Jimmy Callahan? Well, it's +scarcely the province of a Secret Service man to impress his face upon +everyone ... the secret wouldn't last long. No, Jimmy was working on the +other end of the Seattle affair. Trying to locate the men behind the +move—and I understand he did it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> fairly well, too. But what else would +you expect from the man who solved that submarine tangle in Norfolk?"</p> + +<p>Quinn must have read the look of interest in my face, for he continued, +almost without a pause: "Did you ever hear the inside of that case? One +of the most remarkable in the whole history of the Secret Service, and +that's saying a good deal. I don't suppose it would do any harm to spill +it, so let's move over there in a corner and I'll relate a few details +of a case where the second hand of a watch played a leading role."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The whole thing started back in the spring of 1918 [said Quinn, who held +down a soft berth in the Treasury Department as a reward for a game leg +obtained during a counterfeiting raid on Long Island].</p> + +<p>Along about then, if you remember, the Germans let loose a lot of +boasting statements as to what they were going to do to American ships +and American shipping. Transports were going to be sunk, commerce +crippled and all that sort of thing. While not a word of it got into the +papers, there were a bunch of people right here in Washington who took +these threats seriously—for the Hun's most powerful weapon appeared to +be in his submarines, and if a fleet of them once got going off the +coast we'd lose a lot of valuable men and time landing them.</p> + +<p>Then came the sinking of the <i>Carolina</i> and those other ships off the +Jersey coast. Altogether it looked like a warm summer.</p> + +<p>One afternoon the Chief sent for Callahan, who'd just come back from +taking care of some job down on the border, and told him his troubles.</p> + +<p>"Jimmy," said the Chief, "somebody on this side is giving those damn +Huns a whole lot of information that they haven't any business getting. +You know about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> those boats they've sunk already, of course. They're +only small fry. What they're laying for is a transport, another +<i>Tuscania</i> that they can stab in the dark and make their getaway. The +point that's worrying us is that the U-boats must be getting their +information from some one over here. The sinking of the <i>Carolina</i> +proves that. No submarine, operating on general cruising orders, could +possibly have known when that ship was due or what course she was going +to take. Every precaution was taken at San Juan to keep her sailing a +secret, but of course you can't hide every detail of that kind. She got +out. Some one saw her, wired the information up the coast here and the +man we've got to nab tipped the U-boat off.</p> + +<p>"Of course we could go at it from Porto Rico, but that would mean +wasting a whole lot more time than we can afford. It's not so much a +question of the other end of the cable as it is who transmitted the +message to the submarine—and how!</p> + +<p>"It's your job to find out before they score a real hit."</p> + +<p>Callahan, knowing the way things are handled in the little suite on the +west side of the Treasury Building, asked for the file containing the +available information and found it very meager indeed.</p> + +<p>Details of the sinking of the <i>Carolina</i> were included, among them the +fact that the <i>U-37</i> had been waiting directly in the path of the +steamer, though the latter was using a course entirely different from +the one the New York and Porto Rico S. S. Company's boats generally +took. The evidence of a number of passengers was that the submarine +didn't appear a bit surprised at the size of her prey, but went about +the whole affair in a businesslike manner. The meat of the report was +contained in the final paragraph, stating that one of the German +officers had boasted that they "would get a lot more ships<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> in the same +way," adding, "Don't worry—we'll be notified when they are going to +sail."</p> + +<p>Of course, Callahan reasoned, this might be simply a piece of Teutonic +bravado—but there was more than an even chance that it was the truth, +particularly when taken in conjunction with the sinking of the <i>Texel</i> +and the <i>Pinar del Rio</i> and the fact that the <i>Carolina's</i> course was so +accurately known.</p> + +<p>But how in the name of Heaven had they gotten their information?</p> + +<p>Callahan knew that the four principal ports of embarkation for +troops—Boston, New York, Norfolk, and Charleston—were shrouded in a +mantle of secrecy which it was almost impossible to penetrate. Some +months before, when he had been working on the case which grew out of +the disappearance of the plans of the battleship <i>Pennsylvania</i>, he had +had occasion to make a number of guarded inquiries in naval circles in +New York, and he recalled that it had been necessary not only to show +his badge, but to submit to the most searching scrutiny before he was +allowed to see the men he wished to reach. He therefore felt certain +that no outsider could have dug up the specific information in the short +space of time at their disposal.</p> + +<p>But, arguing that it had been obtained, the way in which it had been +passed on to the U-boat also presented a puzzle.</p> + +<p>Was there a secret submarine base on the coast?</p> + +<p>Had some German, more daring than the rest, actually come ashore and +penetrated into the very lines of the Service?</p> + +<p>Had he laid a plan whereby he could repeat this operation as often as +necessary?</p> + +<p>Or did the answer lie in a concealed wireless, operating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> upon +information supplied through underground channels?</p> + +<p>These were only a few of the questions which raced through Callahan's +mind. The submarine base he dismissed as impracticable. He knew that the +<i>Thor</i>, the <i>Unita</i>, the <i>Macedonia</i>, and nine other vessels had, at the +beginning of the war, cleared from American ports under false papers +with the intention of supplying German warships with oil, coal, and +food. He also knew that, of the million and a half dollars' worth of +supplies, less than one-sixth had ever been transshipped. Therefore, +having failed so signally here, the Germans would hardly try the same +scheme again.</p> + +<p>The rumor that German officers had actually come into New York, where +they were supposed to have been seen in a theater, was also rather +far-fetched. So the wireless theory seemed to be the most tenable. But +even a wireless cannot conceal its existence from the other stations +indefinitely. Of course, it was possible that it might be located on +some unfrequented part of the coast—but then how could the operator +obtain the information which he transmitted to the U-boat?</p> + +<p>Callahan gave it up in despair—for that night. He was tired and he felt +that eight hours' sleep would do him more good than thrashing around +with a problem for which there appeared to be no solution; a problem +which, after all, he couldn't even be sure existed.</p> + +<p>Maybe, he thought, drowsily, as he turned off the light—maybe the +German on the U-boat was only boasting, after all—or, maybe....</p> + +<p>The first thing Jimmy did the next morning was to call upon the head of +the recently organized Intelligence Bureau of the War Department—not +the Intelligence Division which has charge of censorship and the +handling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> of news, but the bureau which bears the same relation to the +army that the Secret Service does to the Treasury Department.</p> + +<p>"From what ports are transports sailing within the next couple of +weeks?" he inquired of the officer in charge.</p> + +<p>"From Boston, New York, Norfolk, and Charleston," was the reply—merely +confirming Callahan's previous belief. He had hoped that the ground +would be more limited, because he wanted to have the honor of solving +this problem by himself, and it was hardly possible for him to cover the +entire Atlantic Coast.</p> + +<p>"Where's the biggest ship sailing from?" was his next question.</p> + +<p>"There's one that clears Norfolk at daylight on Monday morning with +twelve thousand men aboard...."</p> + +<p>"Norfolk?" interrupted Callahan. "I thought most of the big ones left +from New York or Boston."</p> + +<p>"So they do, generally. But these men are from Virginia and North +Carolina. Therefore it's easier to ship them right out of Norfolk—saves +time and congestion of the railroads. As it happens, the ship they're +going on is one of the largest that will clear for ten days or more. All +of the other big ones are on the other side."</p> + +<p>"Then," cut in Callahan, "if the Germans wanted to make a ten-strike +they'd lay for that boat?"</p> + +<p>"They sure would—and one torpedo well placed would make the <i>Tuscania</i> +look like a Sunday-school picnic. But what's the idea? Got a tip that +the Huns are going to try to grab her?"</p> + +<p>"No, not a tip," Callahan called back over his shoulder, for he was +already halfway out of the door; "just a hunch—and I'm going to play it +for all it's worth!"</p> + +<p>The next morning, safely ensconced at the Monticello under the name of +"Robert P. Oliver, of Williamsport,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> Pa." Callahan admitted to himself +that he was indeed working on nothing more than a "hunch," and not a +very well-defined one at that. The only point that appeared actually to +back up his theory that the information was coming from Norfolk was the +fact that the U-boat was known to be operating between New York and the +Virginia capes. New York itself was well guarded and the surrounding +country was continually patrolled by operatives of all kinds. It was the +logical point to watch, and therefore it would be much more difficult to +obtain and transmit information there than it would be in the vicinity +of Norfolk, where military and naval operations were not conducted on as +large a scale nor with as great an amount of secrecy.</p> + +<p>Norfolk, Callahan found, was rather proud of her new-found glory. For +years she had basked in the social prestige of the Chamberlin, the +annual gathering of the Fleet at Hampton Roads and the military pomp and +ceremony attendant upon the operations of Fortress Monroe. But the war +had brought a new thrill. Norfolk was now one of the principal ports of +embarkation for the men going abroad. Norfolk had finally taken her rank +with New York and Boston—the rank to which her harbor entitled her.</p> + +<p>Callahan reached Norfolk on Wednesday morning. The <i>America</i>, according +to the information he had received from the War Department, would clear +at daybreak Monday—but at noon on Saturday the Secret Service operative +had very little more knowledge than when he arrived. He had found that +there was a rumor to the effect that two U-boats were waiting off the +Capes for the transport, which, of course, would have the benefit of the +usual convoy.</p> + +<p>"But," as one army officer phrased it, "what's the use<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> of a convoy if +they know just where you are? Germany would willingly lose a sub. or two +to get us, and, with the sea that's been running for the past ten days, +there'd be no hope of saving more than half the boys."</p> + +<p>Spurred by the rapidity with which time was passing and the fact that he +sensed a thrill of danger—an intuition of impending peril—around the +<i>America</i>, Callahan spent the better part of Friday night and all +Saturday morning running down tips that proved to be groundless. A man +with a German name was reported to be working in secret upon some +invention in an isolated house on Willoughby Spit; a woman, concerning +whom little was known, had been seen frequently in the company of two +lieutenants slated to sail on the <i>America</i>; a house in Newport News +emitted strange "clacking" sounds at night.</p> + +<p>But the alleged German proved to be a photographer of unassailable +loyalty, putting in extra hours trying to develop a new process of color +printing. The woman came from one of the oldest families in Richmond and +had known the two lieutenants for years. The house in Newport News +proved to be the residence of a young man who hoped some day to sell a +photoplay scenario, the irregular clacking noise being made by a +typewriter operated none too steadily.</p> + +<p>"That's what happens to most of the 'clues' that people hand you," +Callahan mused as he sat before his open window on Saturday evening, +with less than thirty-six hours left before the <i>America</i> was scheduled +to leave. "Some fellows have luck with them, but I'll be hanged if I +ever did. Here I'm working in the dark on a case that I'm not even +positive exists. That infernal submarine may be laying off Boston at +this minute, waiting for the ship that leaves there Tuesday. Maybe they +don't get any word from shore at all.... Maybe they just...."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>But here he was brought up with a sudden jar that concentrated all his +mental faculties along an entirely different road.</p> + +<p>Gazing out over the lights of the city, scarcely aware that he saw them, +his subconscious mind had been following for the past three minutes +something apparently usual, but in reality entirely out of the ordinary.</p> + +<p>"By George!" he muttered, "I wonder...."</p> + +<p>Then, taking his watch from his pocket, his eyes alternated between a +point several blocks distant—a point over the roofs of the houses—and +the second hand of his timepiece. Less than a minute elapsed before he +reached for a pencil and commenced to jot down dots and dashes on the +back of an envelope. When, a quarter of an hour later, he found that the +dashes had become monotonous—as he expected they would—he reached for +the telephone and asked to be connected with the private wire of the +Navy Department in Washington.</p> + +<p>"Let me speak to Mr. Thurber at once," he directed. "Operative Callahan, +S. S., speaking.... Hello! that you, Thurber?... This is Callahan. I'm +in Norfolk and I want to know whether you can read this code. You can +figure it out if anybody can. Ready?... Dash, dash, dash, dot, dash, +dash, dot—" and he continued until he had repeated the entire series of +symbols that he had plucked out of the night.</p> + +<p>"Sounds like a variation of the International Morse," came the comment +from the other end of the wire—from Thurber, librarian of the Navy +Department and one of the leading American authorities on code and +ciphers. "May take a little time to figure it out, but it doesn't look +difficult. Where can I reach you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm at the Monticello—name of Robert P. Oliver. Put in a call for me +as soon as you see the light on it. I've<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> got something important to do +right now," and he hung up without another word.</p> + +<p>A quick grab for his hat, a pat under his arm, to make sure that the +holster holding the automatic was in place, and Callahan was on his way +downstairs.</p> + +<p>Once in the street, he quickened his pace and was soon gazing skyward at +the corner of two deserted thoroughfares not many blocks from the +Monticello. A few minutes' consultation with his watch confirmed his +impression that everything was right again and he commenced his search +for the night watchman.</p> + +<p>"Who," he inquired of that individual, "has charge of the operation of +that phonograph sign on the roof?"</p> + +<p>"Doan know fuh certain, suh, but Ah think it's operated by a man down +the street a piece. He's got charge of a bunch of them sort o' things. +Mighty funny kinder way to earn a livin', Ah calls it—flashing on an' +off all night long...."</p> + +<p>"But where's he work from?" interrupted Callahan, fearful that the +negro's garrulousness might delay him unduly.</p> + +<p>"Straight down this street three blocks, suh. Then turn one block to yo' +left and yo' cain't miss the place. Electrical Advertisin' Headquarters +they calls it. Thank you, suh," and Callahan was gone almost before the +watchman could grasp the fact that he held a five-dollar bill instead of +a dollar, as he thought.</p> + +<p>It didn't take the Secret Service man long to locate the place he +sought, and on the top floor he found a dark, swarthy individual bending +over the complicated apparatus which operated a number of the electric +signs throughout the city. Before the other knew it, Callahan was in the +room—his back to the door and his automatic ready for action.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Up with your hands!" snapped Callahan. "Higher! That's better. Now tell +me where you got that information you flashed out to sea to-night by +means of that phonograph sign up the street. Quick! I haven't any time +to waste."</p> + +<p>"<i>Si, si, seņor</i>," stammered the man who faced him. "But I understand +not the English very well."</p> + +<p>"All right," countered Callahan. "Let's try it in Spanish," and he +repeated his demands in that language.</p> + +<p>Volubly the Spaniard—or Mexican, as he later turned out to +be—maintained that he had received no information, nor had he +transmitted any. He claimed his only duty was to watch the "drums" which +operated the signs mechanically.</p> + +<p>"No drum in the world could make that sign flash like it did to-night," +Callahan cut in. "For more than fifteen minutes you sent a variation of +the Morse code seaward. Come on—I'll give you just one minute to tell +me, or I'll bend this gun over your head."</p> + +<p>Before the minute had elapsed, the Mexican commenced his confession. He +had been paid a hundred dollars a week, he claimed, to flash a certain +series of signals every Saturday night, precisely at nine o'clock. The +message itself—a series of dots and dashes which he produced from his +pocket as evidence of his truthfulness—had reached him on Saturday +morning for the two preceding weeks. He didn't know what it meant. All +he did was to disconnect the drum which operated the sign and move the +switch himself. Payment for each week's work, he stated, was inclosed +with the next week's message. Where it came from he didn't know, but the +envelope was postmarked Washington.</p> + +<p>With his revolver concealed in his coat pocket, but with its muzzle in +the small of the Mexican's back, Callahan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> marched his captive back to +the hotel and up into his room. As he opened the door the telephone rang +out, and, ordering the other to stand with his face to the wall in a +corner—"and be damn sure not to make a move"—the government agent +answered the call. As he expected, it was Thurber.</p> + +<p>"The code's a cinch," came the voice over the wire from Washington. "But +the message is infernally important. It's in German, and evidently you +picked it up about two sentences from the start. The part you gave me +states that the transport <i>America</i>, with twelve thousand men aboard, +will leave Norfolk at daylight Monday. The route the ship will take is +distinctly stated, as is the personnel of her convoy. Where'd you get +the message?"</p> + +<p>"Flashes in the night," answered Callahan. "I noticed that an electric +sign wasn't behaving regularly—so I jotted down its signals and passed +them on to you. The next important point is whether the message is +complete enough for you to reconstruct the code. Have you got all the +letters?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, every one of them."</p> + +<p>"Then take down this message, put it into that dot-and-dash code and +send it to me by special messenger on one of the navy torpedo boats +to-night. It's a matter of life and death to thousands of men!" and +Callahan dictated three sentences over the wire. "Got that?" he +inquired. "Good! Get busy and hurry it down. I've got to have it in the +morning."</p> + +<p>"Turn around," he directed the Mexican, as he replaced the receiver. +"Were you to send these messages only on Saturday night?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Si, seņor.</i> Save that I was told that there might be occasions when I +had to do the same thing on Sunday night, too."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"At nine o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Si, seņor.</i>"</p> + +<p>Callahan smiled. Things were breaking better than he had dared hope. It +meant that the U-boat would be watching for the signal the following +night. Then, with proper emphasis of the automatic, he gave the Mexican +his orders. He was to return to his office with Callahan and go about +his business as usual, with the certainty that if he tried any +foolishness the revolver could act more quickly than he. Accompanied by +the government agent, he was to come back to the Monticello and spend +the night in Callahan's room, remaining there until the next evening +when he would—promptly at nine o'clock and under the direction of an +expert in telegraphy—send the message which Callahan would hand him.</p> + +<p>That's practically all there is to the story.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"All?" I echoed, when Quinn paused. "What do you mean, 'all'? What was +the message Callahan sent? What happened to the Mexican? Who sent the +letter and the money from Washington?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much happened to the Mexican," replied my informant, with a +smile. "They found that he was telling the truth, so they just sent him +over the border with instructions not to show himself north of the Rio +Grande. As for the letter—that took the Post Office, the Department of +Justice, and the Secret Service the better part of three months to +trace. But they finally located the sender, two weeks after she (yes, it +was a woman, and a darned pretty one at that) had made her getaway. I +understand they got her in England and sentenced her to penal servitude +for some twenty years or more. In spite of the war, the Anglo-Saxon race +hasn't completely overcome its prejudice against the death penalty for +women."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But the message Callahan sent?" I persisted.</p> + +<p>"That was short and to the point. As I recall it, it ran something like +this: 'Urgent—Route of <i>America</i> changed. She clears at daylight, but +takes a course exactly ten miles south of one previously stated. Be +there."</p> + +<p>"The U-boat was there, all right. But so were four hydroplanes and half +a dozen destroyers, all carrying the Stars and Stripes!"</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + +<h3>THE MINT MYSTERY</h3> + + +<p>"Mr Drummond! Wire for Mr. Drummond! Mr. Drummond, please!"</p> + +<p>It was the monotonous, oft-repeated call of a Western Union +boy—according to my friend Bill Quinn, formerly of the United States +Secret Service—that really was responsible for solving the mystery +which surrounded the disappearance of $130,000 in gold from the +Philadelphia Mint.</p> + +<p>"The boy himself didn't have a thing to do with the gold or the finding +of it," admitted Quinn, "but his persistence was responsible for +locating Drummond, of the Secret Service, just as he was about to start +on a well-earned vacation in the Maine woods. Uncle Sam's sleuths don't +get any too much time off, you know, and a month or so in a part of the +world where they don't know anything about international intrigues and +don't care about counterfeiting is a blessing not to be despised.</p> + +<p>"That's the reason the boy had to be persistent when he was paging +Drummond.</p> + +<p>"The operative had a hunch that it was a summons to another case and he +was dog tired. But the boy kept singing out the name through the train +and finally landed his man, thus being indirectly responsible for the +solution of a mystery that might have remained unsolved for weeks—and +incidentally saved the government nearly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> every cent of the one hundred +and thirty thousand dollars."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When Drummond opened the telegram [continued Quinn] he found that it was +a summons to Philadelphia, signed by Hamlin, Assistant Secretary of the +Treasury.</p> + +<p>"Preston needs you at once. Extremely important," read the wire—and, as +Drummond was fully aware that Preston was Director of the United States +Mint, it didn't take much deduction to figure that something had gone +wrong in the big building on Spring Garden Street where a large part of +the country's money is coined.</p> + +<p>But even the lure of the chase—something you read a lot about in +detective stories, but find too seldom in the real hard work of tracing +criminals—did not offset Drummond's disappointment in having to defer +his vacation. Grumbling, he gathered his bags and cut across New York to +the Pennsylvania Station, where he was fortunate enough to be able to +make a train on the point of leaving for Philadelphia. At the Mint he +found Director Preston and Superintendent Bosbyshell awaiting him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hamlin wired that he had instructed you to come up at once," said +the director. "But we had hardly hoped that you could make it so soon."</p> + +<p>"Wire reached me on board a train that would have pulled out of Grand +Central Station in another three minutes," growled Drummond. "I was on +my way to Maine to forget all about work for a month. But," and his face +broke into a smile, "since they did find me, what's the trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Trouble enough," replied the director. "Some hundred and thirty +thousand dollars in gold is missing from the Mint!"</p> + +<p>"What!" Even Drummond was shaken out of his professional<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> calm, not to +mention his grouch. Robbery of the United States Treasury or one of the +government Mints was a favorite dream with criminals, but—save for the +memorable occasion when a gang was found trying to tunnel under +Fifteenth Street in Washington—there had been no time when the scheme +was more than visionary.</p> + +<p>"Are you certain? Isn't there any chance for a mistake?"</p> + +<p>The questions were perfunctory, rather than hopeful.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, not the least," continued Preston. "Somebody has made +away with a hundred and thirty thousand dollars worth of the +government's money. Seven hundred pounds of gold is missing and there +isn't a trace to show how or where it went. The vault doors haven't been +tampered with. The combination of the grille inside the vault is intact. +Everything, apparently, is as it should be—but fifty bars of gold are +missing."</p> + +<p>"And each bar," mused Drummond, "weighs—"</p> + +<p>"Fourteen pounds," cut in the superintendent.</p> + +<p>Drummond looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Preston. "This is Mr. Bosbyshell, +superintendent of the Mint. This thing has gotten on my nerves so that I +didn't have the common decency to introduce you. Mr. Bosbyshell was with +me when we discovered that the gold was missing."</p> + +<p>"When was that?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday afternoon," replied the director. "Every now and then—at +irregular intervals—we weigh all the gold in the Mint, to make sure +that everything is as it should be. Nothing wrong was discovered until +we reached Vault Six, but there fifty bars were missing. There wasn't +any chance of error. The records showed precisely how much should have +been there and the scales showed how much there was, to the fraction of +an ounce.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But even if we had only counted the bars, instead of weighing each one +separately, the theft would have been instantly discovered, for the +vault contained exactly fifty bars less than it should have. It was then +that I wired Washington and asked for assistance from the Secret +Service."</p> + +<p>"Thus spoiling my vacation," muttered Drummond. "How many men know the +combination to the vault door?"</p> + +<p>"Only two," replied the superintendent. "Cochrane, who is the official +weigher, and myself. Cochrane is above suspicion. He's been here for the +past thirty years and there hasn't been a single complaint against him +in all that time."</p> + +<p>Drummond looked as if he would like to ask Preston if the same could be +said for the superintendent, but he contented himself with listening as +Bosbyshell continued:</p> + +<p>"But even if Cochrane or I—yes, I'm just as much to be suspected as +he—could have managed to open the vault door unseen, we could not have +gotten inside the iron grille which guards the gold in the interior of +the vault. That is always kept locked, with a combination known to two +other men only. There's too much gold in each one of these vaults to +take any chance with, which is the reason for this double protection. +Two men—Cochrane and I—handle the combination to the vault door and +open it whenever necessary. Two others—Jamison and Strubel—are the +only ones that know how to open the grille door. One of them has to be +present whenever the bars are put in or taken away, for the men who can +get inside the vault cannot enter the grille, and the men who can +manipulate the grille door can't get into the vault."</p> + +<p>"It certainly sounds like a burglar-proof combination," commented +Drummond. "Is there any possibility for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> conspiracy between"—and he +hesitated for the fraction of a second—"between Cochrane and either of +the men who can open the grille door?"</p> + +<p>"Apparently not the least in the world," replied Preston. "So far as we +know they are all as honest as the day—"</p> + +<p>"But the fact remains," Drummond interrupted, "that the gold is +missing."</p> + +<p>"Exactly—but the grille door was sealed with the official governmental +stamp when we entered the vault yesterday. That stamp is applied only in +the presence of both men who know the combination. So the conspiracy, if +there be any, must have included Cochrane, Strubel, and Jamison—instead +of being a two-man job."</p> + +<p>"How much gold did you say was missing?" inquired the Treasury +operative, taking another tack.</p> + +<p>"Seven hundred pounds—fifty bars of fourteen pounds each," answered +Bosbyshell. "That's another problem that defies explanation. How could +one man carry away all that gold without being seen? He'd need a dray to +cart it off, and we're very careful about what goes out of the Mint. +There's a guard at the front door all the time, and no one is allowed to +leave with a package of any kind until it has been examined and passed."</p> + +<p>A grunt was Drummond's only comment—and those who knew the Secret +Service man best would have interpreted the sound to mean studious +digestion of facts, rather than admission of even temporary defeat.</p> + +<p>It was one of the government detective's pet theories that every crime, +no matter how puzzling, could be solved by application of common-sense +principles and the rules of logic. "The criminal with brains," he was +fond of saying, "will deliberately try to throw you off the scent. Then +you've got to take your time and separate the wheat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> from the chaff—the +false leads from the true. But the man who commits a crime on the spur +of the moment—or who flatters himself that he hasn't left a single clue +behind—is the one who's easy to catch. The cleverest crook in the world +can't enter a room without leaving his visiting card in some way or +other. It's up to you to find that card and read the name on it. And +common sense is the best reading glass."</p> + +<p>Requesting that his mission be kept secret, Drummond said that he would +like to examine Vault No. Six.</p> + +<p>"Let Cochrane open the vault for me and then have Jamison and Strubel +open the grille," he directed.</p> + +<p>"Unless Mr. Bosbyshell opened the vault door," Preston reminded him, +"there's no one but Cochrane who could do it. It won't be necessary, +however, to have either of the others open the grille—the door was +taken from its hinges this morning in order the better to examine the +place and it hasn't yet been replaced."</p> + +<p>"All right," agreed Drummond. "Let's have Cochrane work the outer +combination, then. I'll have a look at the other two later."</p> + +<p>Accompanied by the director and the superintendent, Drummond made his +way to the basement where they were joined by the official weigher, a +man well over fifty, who was introduced by Preston to "Mr. Drummond, a +visitor who is desirous of seeing the vaults."</p> + +<p>"I understand that you are the only man who can open them," said the +detective. "Suppose we look into this one," as he stopped, as if by +accident, before Vault No. 6.</p> + +<p>Cochrane, without a word, bent forward and commenced to twirl the +combination. A few spins to the right, a few to the left, back to the +right, to the left once more—and he pulled at the heavy door +expectantly. But it failed to budge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again he bent over the combination, spinning it rapidly. Still the door +refused to open.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to help me with this, Superintendent," +Cochrane said, finally. "It doesn't seem to work, somehow."</p> + +<p>But, under Bosbyshell's manipulation, the door swung back almost +instantly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing wrong with the combination," commented Preston.</p> + +<p>Drummond smiled. "Has the combination been changed recently?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not for the past month," Bosbyshell replied. "We usually switch all of +them six times a year, just as a general precaution—but this has been +the same for the past few weeks. Ever since the fifteenth of last month, +to be precise."</p> + +<p>Inside the vault Drummond found that, as Preston had stated, the door to +the grille had been taken from its hinges, to facilitate the work of the +men who had weighed the gold, and had not been replaced.</p> + +<p>"Where are the gold bars?" asked the detective. "The place looks like it +had been well looted."</p> + +<p>"They were all taken out this morning, to be carefully weighed," was +Preston's reply.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see some of them stacked up there along the side of the +grille, if it isn't too much trouble."</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Bosbyshell. "I'll have the men bring them in at once."</p> + +<p>As soon as the superintendent had left the room, Drummond requested that +the door of the grille be placed in its usual position, and Cochrane set +it up level with the floor, leaning against the supports at the side.</p> + +<p>"Is that the way it always stays?" inquired the Secret Service man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, sir, but it's pretty heavy to handle, and I thought you just wanted +to get a general idea of things."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see it in place, if you don't mind. Here, I'll help you +with it—but we better slip our coats off, for it looks like a +man's-sized job," and he removed his coat as he spoke.</p> + +<p>After Cochrane had followed his example, the two of them hung the heavy +door from its hinges and stepped back to get the effect. But Drummond's +eyes were fixed, not upon the entrance to the grille, but on the middle +of Cochrane's back, and, when the opportunity offered an instant later, +he shifted his gaze to the waist of the elder man's trousers. Something +that he saw there caused the shadow of a smile to flit across his face.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," he said. "That will do nicely," and he made a quick gesture to +Preston that he would like to have Cochrane leave the vault.</p> + +<p>"Very much obliged, Mr. Cochrane," said the director. "We won't bother +you any more. You might ask those men to hurry in with the bars, if you +will."</p> + +<p>And the weigher, pausing only to secure his coat, left the vault.</p> + +<p>"Why all the stage setting?" inquired Preston. "You don't suspect...."</p> + +<p>"I don't suspect a thing," Drummond smiled, searching for his own coat, +"beyond the fact that the solution to the mystery is so simple as to be +almost absurd. By the way, have you noticed those scratches on the bars +of the grille, about four feet from the floor?"</p> + +<p>"No, I hadn't," admitted the director. "But what of them? These vaults +aren't new, you know, and I dare say you'd find similar marks on the +grille bars in any of the others."</p> + +<p>"I hope not," Drummond replied, grimly, "for that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> would almost +certainly mean a shortage of gold in other sections of the Mint. +Incidentally, has all the rest of the gold been weighed?"</p> + +<p>"Every ounce of it."</p> + +<p>"Nothing missing?"</p> + +<p>"Outside of the seven hundred pounds from this vault, not a particle."</p> + +<p>"Good—then I'll be willing to lay a small wager that you can't find the +duplicates of these scratches anywhere else in the Mint." And Drummond +smiled at the director's perplexity.</p> + +<p>When the men arrived with a truck loaded with gold bars, they stacked +them—at the superintendent's direction—along the side of the grille +nearest the vault entrance.</p> + +<p>"Is that the way they are usually arranged?" inquired Drummond.</p> + +<p>"Yes—the grille bars are of tempered steel and the openings between +them are too small to permit anyone to put his hand through. Therefore, +as we are somewhat pressed for space, we stack them up right along the +outer wall of the grille and then work back. It saves time and labor in +bringing them in."</p> + +<p>"Is this the way the door of the grille ordinarily hangs?"</p> + +<p>Bosbyshell inspected it a moment before he replied.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "It appears to be all right. It was purposely made to +swing clear of the floor and the ceiling so that it might not become +jammed. The combination and the use of the seal prevents its being +opened by anyone who has no business in the grille."</p> + +<p>"And the seal was intact when you came in yesterday afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"It was."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said Drummond; "that was all I wanted to know," and he made +his way upstairs with a smile which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> seemed to say that his vacation in +the Maine woods had not been indefinitely postponed.</p> + +<p>Once back in the director's office, the government operative asked +permission to use the telephone, and, calling the Philadelphia office of +the Secret Service, requested that three agents be assigned to meet him +down town as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>"Have you a record of the home address of the people employed in the +Mint?" Drummond inquired of the director, as he hung up the receiver.</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Preston, producing a typewritten list from the drawer of +his desk.</p> + +<p>"I'll borrow this for a while, if I may. I'll probably be back with it +before three o'clock—and bring some news with me, too," and the +operative was out of the room before Preston could frame a single +question.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the clock in the director's office pointed to +two-thirty when Drummond returned, accompanied by the three men who had +been assigned to assist him.</p> + +<p>"Have you discovered anything?" Preston demanded.</p> + +<p>"Let's have Cochrane up here first," Drummond smiled. "I can't be +positive until I've talked to him. You might have the superintendent in, +too. He'll be interested in developments, I think."</p> + +<p>Bosbyshell was the first to arrive, and, at Drummond's request, took up +a position on the far side of the room. As soon as he had entered, two +of the other Secret Service men ranged themselves on the other side of +the doorway and, the moment Cochrane came in, closed the door behind +him.</p> + +<p>"Cochrane," said Drummond, "what did you do with the seven hundred +pounds of gold that you took from Vault No. Six during the past few +weeks?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What—what—" stammered the weigher.</p> + +<p>"There's no use bluffing," continued the detective. "We've got the goods +on you. The only thing missing is the gold itself, and the sooner you +turn it over the more lenient the government will be with you. I know +how you got the bars out of the grille—a piece of bent wire was +sufficient to dislodge them from the top of the pile nearest the grille +bars and it was easy to slip them under the door. No wonder the seal was +never tampered with. It wasn't necessary for you to go inside the grille +at all.</p> + +<p>"But, more than that, I know how you carried the bars, one at a time, +out of the Mint. It took these three men less than an hour this +afternoon to find the tailor who fixed the false pocket in the front of +your trousers—the next time you try a job of this kind you better +attend to all these details yourself—and it needed only one look at +your suspenders this morning to see that they were a good deal wider and +heavier than necessary. That long coat you are in the habit of wearing +is just the thing to cover up any suspicious bulge in your garments and +the guard at the door, knowing you, would never think of telling you to +stop unless you carried a package or something else contrary to orders.</p> + +<p>"The people in your neighborhood say that they've seen queer bluish +lights in the basement of your house on Woodland Avenue. So I suspect +you've been melting that gold up and hiding it somewhere, ready for a +quick getaway.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Cochrane, we've got the goods on you and if you want to save half +of a twenty-year sentence—which at your age means life—come across +with the information. Where is the gold?"</p> + +<p>"In the old sewer pipe," faltered the weigher, who appeared to have aged +ten years while Drummond was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> speaking. "In the old sewer pipe that +leads from my basement."</p> + +<p>"Good!" exclaimed Drummond. "I think Mr. Preston will use his influence +with the court to see that your sentence isn't any heavier than +necessary. It's worth that much to guard the Mint against future losses +of the same kind, isn't it, Mr. Director?"</p> + +<p>"It surely is," replied Preston. "But how in the name of Heaven did you +get the answer so quickly?"</p> + +<p>Drummond delayed his answer until Cochrane, accompanied by the three +Secret Service men, had left the room. Then—</p> + +<p>"Nothing but common sense," he said. "You remember those scratches I +called your attention to—the ones on the side of the grille bars? They +were a clear indication of the way in which the gold had been taken from +the grille—knocked down from the top of the pile with a piece of wire +and pulled under the door of the grille. That eliminated Jamison and +Strubel immediately. They needn't have gone to that trouble, even if it +had been possible for them to get into the vault in the first place.</p> + +<p>"But I had my suspicions of Cochrane when he was unable to open the +vault door. That pointed to nervousness, and nervousness indicated a +guilty conscience. I made the hanging of the grille door an excuse to +get him to shed his coat—though I did want to see whether the door came +all the way down to the floor—and I noted that his suspenders were very +broad and his trousers abnormally wide around the waist. He didn't want +to take any chances with that extra fourteen pounds of gold, you know. +It would never do to drop it in the street.</p> + +<p>"The rest is merely corroborative. I found that bluish lights had been +observed in the basement of Cochrane's house, and one of my men located +the tailor who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> enlarged his trousers. That's really all there was +to it."</p> + +<p>With that Drummond started to the door, only to be stopped by Director +Preston's inquiry as to where he was going.</p> + +<p>"On my vacation, which you interrupted this morning," replied the Secret +Service man.</p> + +<p>"It's a good thing I did," Preston called after him. "If Cochrane had +really gotten away with that gold we might never have caught him."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Which," as Bill Quinn said, when he finished his narrative, "is the +reason I claim that the telegraph boy who persisted in paging Drummond +is the one who was really responsible for the saving of some hundred and +thirty thousand dollars that belonged to Uncle Sam."</p> + +<p>"But, surely," I said, "that case was an exception. In rapidity of +action, I mean. Don't governmental investigations usually take a long +time?"</p> + +<p>"Frequently," admitted Quinn, "they drag on and on for months—sometimes +years. But it's seldom that Uncle Sam fails to land his man—even though +the trail leads into the realms of royalty, as in the Ypiranga case. +That happened before the World War opened, but it gave the State +Department a mighty good line on what to expect from Germany."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + +<h3>THE YPIRANGA CASE</h3> + + +<p>"Mexico," said Bill Quinn, who now holds a soft berth in the Treasury +Department by virtue of an injury received in the line of duty—during a +raid on counterfeiters a few years ago, to be precise—"is back on the +first page of the papers again after being crowded off for some four +years because of the World War. Funny coincidence, that, when you +remember that it was this same Mexico that gave us our first indication +of the way we might expect Germany to behave."</p> + +<p>"Huh?" I said, a bit startled. "What do you mean? The first spark of the +war was kindled in Serbia, not Mexico. Outside of the rumblings of the +Algeciras case and one or two other minor affairs, there wasn't the +slightest indication of the conflict to come."</p> + +<p>"No?" and Quinn's eyebrows went up in interrogation. "How about the +Ypiranga case?"</p> + +<p>"The which?"</p> + +<p>"The Ypiranga case—the one where Jack Stewart stumbled across a clue in +a Mexico City café which led all the way to Berlin and back to +Washington and threatened to precipitate a row before the Kaiser was +quite ready for it?"</p> + +<p>"No," I admitted, "that's a page of underground history that I haven't +read—and I must confess that I don't know Stewart, either."</p> + +<p>"Probably not," said the former Secret Service man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +"He wasn't connected with any of the branches of the government that get +into print very often. As a matter of fact, the very existence of the +organization to which he belonged isn't given any too much publicity. +Everyone knows of the Secret Service and the men who make the +investigations for the Department of Justice and the Post-office +Department—but the Department of State, for obvious reasons, conducts +its inquiries in a rather more diplomatic manner. Its agents have to +pose as commercial investigators, or something else equally as prosaic. +Their salaries are, as a general thing, paid out of the President's +private allowance or out of the fund given to the department 'for use as +it may see fit.' Less than half a dozen people know the actual status of +the organization or the names of its members at any one time, and its +exploits are recorded only in the archives of the State Department."</p> + +<p>"But who," I persisted, as Quinn stopped, "was Jack Stewart and what was +the nature of the affair upon which he stumbled in Mexico City?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Stewart [replied Quinn] was just a quiet, ordinary sort of chap, the +kind that you'd expect to find behind a desk in the State Department, +sorting out consular reports and handling routine stuff. Nothing +exceptional about him at all—which was probably one reason for his +being selected for work as a secret agent of the Department. It doesn't +do, you know, to pick men who are conspicuous, either in their dress or +manner. Too easy to spot and remember them. The chap who's swallowed up +in the crowd is the one who can get by with a whole lot of quiet work +without being suspected.</p> + +<p>When they sent Jack down to Mexico they didn't have the slightest idea +he'd uncover anything as big as he did.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> The country south of the Rio +Grande, if you recall, had been none too quiet for some time prior to +1914. Taft had had his troubles with it ever since the end of the Diaz +regime, and when Wilson came in the "Mexican question" was a legacy that +caused the men in the State Department to spend a good many sleepless +nights.</p> + +<p>All sorts of rumors, most of them wild and bloody, floated up through +official and unofficial channels. The one fact that seemed to be certain +was that Mexico was none too friendly to the United States, and that +some other nation was behind this feeling, keeping it constantly stirred +up and overlooking no opportunity to add fuel to the flame. Three or +four other members of the State Department's secret organization had +been wandering around picking up leads for some months past and, upon +the return of one of these to Washington, Stewart was sent to replace +him.</p> + +<p>His instructions were simple and delightfully indefinite. He was to +proceed to Mexico City, posing as the investigator for a financial house +in New York which was on the lookout for a soft concession from the +Mexican government. This would give him an opportunity to seek the +acquaintance of Mexican officials and lend an air of plausibility to +practically any line that he found it necessary to follow. But, once at +the capital with his alibis well established, he was to overlook nothing +which might throw light upon the question that had been bothering +Washington for some time past—just which one of the foreign powers was +fanning the Mexican unrest and to what lengths it was prepared to go?</p> + +<p>Of course, the State Department suspected—just as we now know—that +Berlin was behind the movement, but at that time there was no indication +of the reason. In the light of later events, however, the plan is plain. +Germany,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> feeling certain that the greatest war Europe had ever known +was a matter of the immediate future, was laying her plans to keep other +nations out of the conflict. She figured that Mexico was the best foil +for the United States and that our pitifully small army would have its +hands full with troubles at home. If not, she intended to let Japan +enter into the equation—as shown by the Zimmerman note some two years +later.</p> + +<p>When Stewart got to Mexico City, it did not take him long to discover +that there was an undercurrent of animosity to the United States which +made itself felt in numberless ways. Some of the Mexican papers, +apparently on a stronger financial basis than ever before, were +outspoken in their criticism of American dollars and American dealings. +The people as a whole, long dominated by Diaz, were being stirred to +resentment of the "Gringoes," who "sought to purchase the soul of a +nation as well as its mineral wealth." The improvements which American +capital had made were entirely overlooked, and the spotlight of +subsidized publicity was thrown upon the encroachments of the hated +Yankees.</p> + +<p>All this Stewart reported to Washington, and in reply was politely +informed that, while interesting, it was hardly news. The State +Department had known all this for months. The question was: Where was +the money coming from and what was the immediate object of the game?</p> + +<p>"Take your time and don't bother us unless you find something definite +to report," was the substance of the instructions cabled to Stewart.</p> + +<p>The secret agent, therefore, contented himself with lounging around the +very inviting cafés of the Mexican capital and making friends with such +officials as might be able to drop scraps of information.</p> + +<p>It was November when he first hit Mexico City. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> was nearly the middle +of April before he picked up anything at all worth while. Of course, in +the meantime he had uncovered a number of leads—but every one of them +was blind. For a day or two, or a week at most, they would hold out +glowing promise of something big just around the corner. Then, when he +got to the end of the rainbow, he would find an empty pail in place of +the pot of gold he had hoped for.</p> + +<p>It wasn't surprising, therefore, that Stewart was growing tired of the +life of continual mystery, of developments that never developed, of +secrets that were empty and surprises that faded away into nothing.</p> + +<p>It was on the 13th of April, while seated at a little table in front of +a sidewalk café on the Calles de Victoria, that the American agent +obtained his first real clue to the impending disaster.</p> + +<p>When two Mexicans whom he knew by sight, but not by name, sat down at a +table near his he pricked up his ears purely by instinct, rather than +through any real hope of obtaining information of value.</p> + +<p>The arrival of the usual sugared drinks was followed by a few words of +guarded conversation, and then one of the Mexicans remarked, in a tone a +trifle louder than necessary, that "the United States is a nation of +cowardly women, dollar worshipers who are afraid to fight, and braggarts +who would not dare to back up their threats."</p> + +<p>It was an effort for Stewart to remain immersed in the newspaper propped +up in front of him. Often as he had heard these sentiments expressed, +his Southern blood still rose involuntarily—until his logic reminded +him that his mission was not to start a quarrel, but to end one. He knew +that no good could ensue from his taking up the challenge, and the very +fact that the speaker had raised his voice gave him the tip that the +words were uttered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> for his especial benefit, to find out whether he +understood Spanish—for he made no attempt to disguise his nationality.</p> + +<p>With a smile which did not show on his lips, Stewart summoned the waiter +and in atrocious Spanish ordered another glass of lemonade. His complete +knowledge of the language was the one thing which he had managed to keep +entirely under cover ever since reaching Mexico, for he figured that the +natives would speak more freely in his presence if they believed he +could not gather what they were discussing.</p> + +<p>The trick worked to perfection.</p> + +<p>"Pig-headed Yankee," commented the Mexican who had first spoken. +"Lemonade! Pah!—they haven't the nerve to take a man's drink!" and he +drained his glass of <i>pulque</i> at a single gulp.</p> + +<p>The other, who had not spoken above a whisper, raised his glass and +regarded it in silence for a moment. Then—"Prosit," he said, and drank.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nom di Dio</i>," warned his companion. "Be careful! The American hog does +not speak Spanish well enough to understand those who use it fluently, +but he may speak German."</p> + +<p>Stewart smothered a smile behind his paper. Spanish had always been a +hobby of his—but he only knew about three words in German!</p> + +<p>"I understand," continued the Mexican, "that Victoriano is preparing for +the coup, just as I always figured he would" (Stewart knew that +"Victoriano" was the familiar form in which the populace referred to +Victoriano Huerta, self-appointed President of Mexico and the man who +had steadfastly defied the American government in every way possible, +taking care not to allow matters to reach such a hot stage that he could +handle them through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> diplomatic promises to see that things "improved in +the future").</p> + +<p>"<i>El Presidente</i> has always been careful to protect himself"—the +speaker went on—"but now that you have brought definite assurance from +our friends that the money and the arms will be forthcoming within the +fortnight there is nothing further to fear from the Yankee pigs. It will +be easy to stir up sentiment against them here overnight, and before +they can mass their handful of troops along the Rio Grande we will have +retaken Texas and wiped out the insult of 'forty-eight. What is the +latest news from the ship?"</p> + +<p>"The ——?" inquired the man across the table, but his Teutonic +intonation of what was evidently a Spanish name was so jumbled that all +Stewart could catch was the first syllable—something that sounded like +"<i>Eep</i>."</p> + +<p>"Is that the name?" asked the Mexican.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the other. "She sailed from Hamburg on the seventh. +Allowing two weeks for the passage—she isn't fast, you know—that would +bring her into Vera Cruz about the twenty-first. Once there, the arms +can be landed and...."</p> + +<p>The events of the next few minutes moved so rapidly that, when Stewart +had time to catch his breath, he found it difficult to reconstruct the +affair with accuracy.</p> + +<p>He recalled that he had been so interested in the conversation at the +next table that he had failed to notice the approach of the only other +man he knew in the State Department's secret organization—Dawson, who +had been prowling around the West Coast on an errand similar to his. +Before he knew it Dawson had clapped him on the back and exclaimed: +"Hello, Jack! Didn't expect to see you here—thought you'd be looking +over things in the vicinity of the Palace."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>The words themselves were innocent enough, but—they were spoken in +fluent, rapid Spanish and Stewart had shown that he understood!</p> + +<p>"<i>Sapristi!</i>" hissed the Mexican. "Did you see?" and he bent forward to +whisper hurriedly to his companion.</p> + +<p>Stewart recovered himself instantly, but the damage had been done.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Dawson," he answered in English, trusting that the men at the +next table had not noted his slip. "Sit down and have something? Rotten +weather, isn't it? And not a lead in sight. These Mexicans seem to be +afraid to enter into any contract that ties them up more than a +year—and eighteen revolutions can happen in that time."</p> + +<p>As Dawson seated himself, Stewart gave him a hasty sign to be careful. +Watching the Mexican and his companion out of the corner of his eye, he +steered the conversation into harmless channels, but a moment later the +pair at the next table called the waiter, gave some whispered +instructions, and left.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked Dawson.</p> + +<p>"Nothing—except that I involuntarily registered a knowledge of Spanish +when you spoke to me just now, and I've spent several months building up +a reputation for knowing less about the language than anyone in Mexico +City. As luck would have it, there was a couple seated at the next table +who were giving me what sounded like the first real dope I've had since +I got here. I'll tell you about it later. The question now is to get +back to the hotel before that precious pair get in their dirty work. A +code message to Washington is all I ask—but, if I'm not mistaken, we +are going to have our work cut out for us on the way back."</p> + +<p>"Scott! Serious as that, is it?" muttered Dawson.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +"Well, there are two of us and I'd like to see their whole dam' army try +to stop us. Let's go!"</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," counseled Stewart. "There's no real hurry, for they +wouldn't dare try to start anything in the open. In case we get +separated or—if anything should happen—wire the Department in code +that a vessel with a Spanish name—something that begins with 'Eep'—has +cleared Hamburg, loaded with guns and ammunition. Expected at Vera Cruz +about the twenty-first. Germany's behind the whole plot. Now I'll settle +up and we'll move."</p> + +<p>But as he reached for his pocketbook a Mexican swaggering along the +sidewalk deliberately stumbled against his chair and sent him sprawling. +Dawson was on his feet in an instant, his fists clenched and ready for +action.</p> + +<p>But Stewart had noted that the Mexican had three companions and that one +of the men who had occupied the adjoining table was watching the affair +from a vantage point half a block away.</p> + +<p>With a leap that was catlike in its agility, Stewart seized the +swaggering native by the legs in a football tackle, and upset him +against his assistants.</p> + +<p>"Quick, this way!" he called to Dawson, starting up the street away from +the watcher at the far corner. As he ran, his hand slipped into his coat +pocket where the small, but extremely efficient, automatic with which +all government agents are supplied usually rested. But the gun wasn't +there! Apparently it had slipped out in the scuffle a moment before.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he realized that he was unarmed before he and Dawson were +confronted by five other natives coming from the opposite direction. The +meager lighting system of the Mexican capital, however, was rather a +help than a detriment, for in the struggle which followed it was +practically impossible to tell friend from foe. The two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> Americans, +standing shoulder to shoulder, had the added advantage of +teamwork—something which the natives had never learned.</p> + +<p>"Don't use your gun if you can help it," Stewart warned. "We don't want +the police in on this!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke his fist shot out and the leader of the attacking party +sprawled in the street. No sound came from Dawson, beyond a grunt, as he +landed on the man he had singled out of the bunch. The ten seconds that +followed were jammed with action, punctuated with the shrill cries for +reinforcements from the Mexicans, and brightened here and there by the +dull light from down the street which glinted off the long knives—the +favorite weapon of the Latin-American fighter.</p> + +<p>Stewart and Dawson realized that they must not only fight, but fight +fast. Every second brought closer the arrival of help from the rear, but +Dawson waited until he could hear the reinforcements almost upon them +before he gave the word to break through. Then—</p> + +<p>"Come on, Jack!" he called. "Let's go!"</p> + +<p>Heads down, fists moving with piston-like precision, the two Americans +plowed their way through. Dawson swore later that he felt at least one +rib give under the impact of the blows and he knew that he nursed a sore +wrist for days, but Stewart claimed that his energies were concentrated +solely on the scrap and that he didn't have time to receive any +impression of what was going on. He knew that he had to fight his way +out—that it was essential for one of them to reach the telegraph office +or the embassy with the news they carried.</p> + +<p>It was a case of fight like the devil and trust to luck and the darkness +for aid.</p> + +<p>Almost before they knew it, they had broken through the trio in front of +them and had turned down the Calles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> Ancha, running in a form that would +have done credit to a college track team. Behind them they heard the +muffled oaths of their pursuers as they fell over the party they had +just left.</p> + +<p>"They don't want to attract the police any more than we do," gasped +Dawson. "They don't dare shoot!"</p> + +<p>But as he spoke there came the z-z-i-pp of a bullet, accompanied by the +sharp crack of a revolver somewhere behind them.</p> + +<p>"Careful," warned Stewart. "We've got to skirt that street light ahead. +Duck and—"</p> + +<p>But with that he crumpled up, a bullet through his hip.</p> + +<p>Without an instant's hesitation Dawson stooped, swung his companion over +his shoulder, and staggered on, his right hand groping for his +automatic. Once out of the glare of the arc light, he felt that he would +be safe, at least for a moment.</p> + +<p>Then, clattering toward them, he heard a sound that spelled safety—one +of the open nighthawk cabs that prowl around the streets of the Mexican +capital.</p> + +<p>Shifting Stewart so that his feet rested on the ground, he wheeled and +raked the street behind him with a fusillade from his automatic. There +was only a dull mass of whitish clothing some fifty yards away at which +to aim, but he knew that the counter-attack would probably gain a few +precious seconds of time—time sufficient to stop the cab and to put his +plan into operation.</p> + +<p>The moment the cab came into the circle of light from the street lamp +Dawson dragged his companion toward it, seized the horse's bridle with +his free hand and ordered the driver to halt.</p> + +<p>Before the cabby had recovered his wits the two Americans were in the +vehicle and Dawson had his revolver pressed none too gently into the +small of the driver's back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> The weapon was empty, but the Mexican +didn't know that, and he responded instantly to Dawson's order to turn +around and drive "as if seventy devils of Hades were after him!"</p> + +<p>Outside of a few stray shots that followed as they disappeared up the +street, the drive to the Embassy was uneventful, and, once under the +shelter of the American flag, the rest was easy.</p> + +<p>Stewart, it developed, had sustained only a flesh wound through the +muscles of his hip—painful, but not dangerous. Within ten minutes after +he had reached O'Shaughnessy's office he was dictating a code wire to +Washington—a cable which stated that a vessel with a Spanish name, +commencing with something that sounded like "Eep," had cleared Hamburg +on the seventh, loaded with arms and ammunition destined to advance the +interests of Mexican revolutionists and to hamper the efforts of the +United States to preserve order south of the border.</p> + +<p>The wire reached Washington at noon of the following day and was +instantly transmitted to Berlin, with instructions to Ambassador Gerard +to look into the matter and report immediately.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Vessel in question is probably the <i>Ypiranga</i> [stated a code +the following morning]. Cleared Hamburg on date mentioned, +presumably loaded with grain. Rumors here of large shipment +of arms to some Latin American republic. Practically certain +that Wilhelmstrasse is behind the move, but impossible to +obtain confirmation. Motive unknown.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Ten minutes after this message had been decoded the newspaper +correspondents at the White House noted that a special Cabinet meeting +had been called, but no announcement was made of its purpose or of the +business transacted, beyond the admission that "the insult to the flag +at Tampico had been considered."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + +<p>Promptly at noon the great wireless station at Arlington flashed a +message to Admiral Mayo, in command of the squadron off the Mexican +coast. In effect, it read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Proceed immediately to Vera Cruz. Await arrival of steamer +<i>Ypiranga</i>, loaded with arms. Prevent landing at any cost. +Blockade upon pretext of recent insult to flag. Atlantic +Fleet ordered to your support.</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"The rest of the story," concluded Quinn, "is a matter of history. How +the fleet bottled up the harbor at Vera Cruz, how it was forced to send +a landing party ashore under fire, and how seventeen American sailors +lost their lives during the guerrilla attack which followed. All that +was spread across the front pages of American papers in big black +type—but the fact that a steamer named the <i>Ypiranga</i> had been held up +by the American fleet and forced to anchor at a safe distance offshore, +under the guns of the flagship, was given little space. Apparently it +was a minor incident—but in reality it was the crux of the whole +situation, an indication of Germany's rancor, which was to burst its +bounds before four months had passed, another case in which the arm of +Uncle Sam had been long enough to stretch halfway across a continent and +nip impending disaster."</p> + +<p>"But," I inquired, as he paused, "what became of Dawson and Stewart?"</p> + +<p>"That I don't know," replied Quinn. "The last time I heard of Jack he +had a captain's commission in France and was following up his feud with +the Hun that started in Mexico City four months before the rest of the +world dreamed of war. Dawson, I believe, is still in the Department, and +rendered valuable assistance in combating German propaganda in Chile and +Peru. He'll probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> be rewarded with a consular job in some +out-of-the-way hole, for, now that the war is over, the organization to +which he belongs will gradually dwindle to its previous small +proportions.</p> + +<p>"Strange, wasn't it, how that pair stumbled across one of the first +tentacles of the World War in front of a café in Mexico City? That's one +beauty of government detective work—you never know when the monotony is +going to be blown wide open by the biggest thing you ever happened upon.</p> + +<p>"There was little Mary McNilless, who turned up the clue which prevented +an explosion, compared to which the Black Tom affair would have been a +Sunday-school party. She never dreamed that she would prevent the loss +of millions of dollars' worth of property and at least a score of lives, +but she did—without moving from her desk."</p> + +<p>"How?" I asked.</p> + +<p>But Quinn yawned, looked at his watch, and said: "That's entirely too +long a story to spin right now. It's past my bedtime, and Mrs. Quinn's +likely to be fussy if I'm not home by twelve at least. She says that now +I have an office job she can at least count on my being round to guard +the house—something that she never could do before. So let's leave Mary +for another time. Goodnight"—and he was off.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + +<h3>THE CLUE ON SHELF 45</h3> + + +<p>"Of course, it is possible that patriotism might have prompted Mary +McNilless to locate the clue which prevented an explosion that would +have seriously hampered the munitions industry of the United States—but +the fact remains that she did it principally because she was in love +with Dick Walters, and Dick happened to be in the Secret Service. It was +one case where Cupid scored over Mars."</p> + +<p>Bill Quinn eased the game leg which he won as the trophy of a +counterfeiting raid some years before into a more comfortable position, +reached for his pipe and tobacco pouch, and settled himself for another +reminiscence of the Service with which he had formerly been actively +connected.</p> + +<p>"Mary was—and doubtless still is—one of those red-headed, blue-eyed +Irish beauties whom nature has peppered with just enough freckles to +make them alluring, evidences that the sun itself couldn't help kissing +her. But, from all I've been able to gather, the sun was in a class by +itself. Until Dick Walters came upon the scene, Miss McNilless held +herself strictly aloof from masculine company and much preferred to +spend an evening with her books than to take a trip to Coney or any of +the other resorts where a girl's kisses pass as current coin in payment +for three or four hours' outing.</p> + +<p>"Dick was just the kind of chap that would have appealed to Mary, or to +'most any other girl, for that matter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> Maybe you remember him. He used +to be at the White House during Taft's regime, but they shifted most of +the force soon after Wilson came in and Dick was sent out to the Coast +on an opium hunt that kept him busy for more than a year. In fact, he +came east just in time to be assigned to the von Ewald case—and, +incidentally, to fall foul of Mary and Cupid, a pair that you couldn't +tie, much less beat."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The von Ewald case [Quinn continued, after pausing a moment to repack +his pipe] was one of the many exploits of the Secret Service that never +got in the papers. To be strictly truthful, it wasn't as much a triumph +for the S. S. as it was for Mary McNilless—and, besides, we weren't at +war with Germany at that time, so it had to be kept rather dark.</p> + +<p>But Germany was at war with us. You remember the Black Tom explosion in +August, nineteen sixteen? Well, if the plans of von Ewald and his +associates hadn't been frustrated by a little red-headed girl with +exceptional powers of observation, there would have been a detonation in +Wilmington, Delaware, that would have made the Black Tom affair, with +its damage of thirty millions of dollars, sound like the college yell of +a deaf-and-dumb institute.</p> + +<p>As far back as January, nineteen sixteen, the Secret Service knew that +there were a number of Germans in New York who desired nothing so much +as to hinder the munitions industry of the United States, despite the +fact that we were a neutral nation.</p> + +<p>From Harry Newton, the leader in the second plot to destroy the Welland +Canal, and from Paul Seib, who was implicated in the attempt to destroy +shipping at Hoboken, they forced the information that the conspirators +received their orders and drew their pay from a man of many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> aliases, +known to his associates as "Number eight fifty-nine" and occasionally, +to the world at large, as "von Ewald."</p> + +<p>This much was known in Washington—but, when you came to analyze the +information, it didn't amount to a whole lot. It's one thing to know +that some one is plotting murder and arson on a wholesale scale, but +discovering the identity of that individual is an entirely different +proposition, one which called for all the finesse and obstinacy for +which the governmental detective services are famous.</p> + +<p>Another factor that complicated the situation was that speed was +essential. The problem was entirely different from a counterfeiting or +smuggling case, where you can be content to let the people on the other +side of the table make as many moves as they wish, with the practical +certainty that you'll land them sooner or later. "Give them plenty of +rope and they'll land in Leavenworth" is a favorite axiom in the +Service—but here you had to conserve your rope to the uttermost. Every +day that passed meant that some new plot was that much nearer +completion—that millions of dollars in property and the lives of +no-one-knew-how-many people were still in danger.</p> + +<p>So the order went forward from the headquarters of the Service, "Get the +man known as von Ewald and get him quick!"</p> + +<p>Secret Service men, Postal inspectors, and Department of Justice agents +were called in from all parts of the country and rushed to New York, +until the metropolis looked like the headquarters of a convention of +governmental detectives. Grogan, the chap that landed Perry, the +master-counterfeiter, was there, as were George MacMasters and Sid +Shields, who prevented the revolution in Cuba three or four years ago. +Jimmy Reynolds was borrowed from the Internal Revenue Bureau, and +Althouse, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> spoke German like a native, was brought up from the +border where he had been working on a propaganda case just across the +line.</p> + +<p>There must have been forty men turned loose on this assignment alone, +and, in the course of the search for von Ewald, there were a number of +other developments scarcely less important than the main issue. At least +two of these—the Trenton taxicab tangle and the affair of the girl at +the switchboard—are exploits worthy of separate mention.</p> + +<p>But, in spite of the great array of detective talent, no one could get a +line on von Ewald.</p> + +<p>In April, when Dick Walters returned from the Coast, the other men in +the Service were frankly skeptical as to whether there was a von Ewald +at all. They had come to look upon him as a myth, a bugaboo. They +couldn't deny that there must be some guiding spirit to the Teutonic +plots, but they rather favored the theory that several men, rather than +one, were to blame.</p> + +<p>Walters' instructions were just like the rest—to go to New York and +stick on the job until the German conspirator was apprehended.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it's one man, maybe there're half a dozen," the chief admitted, +"but we've got to nail 'em. The very fact that they haven't started +anything of consequence since the early part of the year would appear to +point to renewed activity very shortly. It's up to you and the other men +already in New York to prevent the success of any of these plots."</p> + +<p>Walters listened patiently to all the dope that had been gathered and +then figured, as had every new man, that it was up to him to do a little +sleuthing of his own.</p> + +<p>The headquarters of the German agents was supposed to be somewhere in +Greenwich Village, on one of those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> half-grown alleys that always +threatens to meet itself coming back. But more than a score of +government operatives had combed that part of the town without securing +a trace of anything tangible. On the average of once a night the phone +at headquarters would ring and some one at the other end would send in a +hurry call for help up in the Bronx or in Harlem or some other distant +part of the city where he thought he had turned up a clue. The men on +duty would leap into the machine that always waited at the curb and +fracture every speed law ever made—only to find, when they arrived, +that it was a false alarm.</p> + +<p>Finally, after several weeks of that sort of thing, conditions commenced +to get on Dick's nerves.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to tackle this thing on my own," he announced. "Luck is going +to play as much of a part in landing von Ewald as anything else—and +luck never hunted with more than one man. Good-by! See you fellows +later."</p> + +<p>But it was a good many weeks—August, to be precise—before the men in +the Federal Building had the opportunity of talking to Walters. He would +report over the phone, of course, and drop down there every few +days—but he'd only stay long enough to find out if there was any real +news or any orders from Washington. Then he'd disappear uptown.</p> + +<p>"Dick's sure got a grouch these days," was the comment that went around +after Walters had paid one of his flying visits.</p> + +<p>"Yeh," grunted Barry, who was on duty that night, "either the von Ewald +case's got on his nerves or he's found a girl that can't see him."</p> + +<p>Neither supposition missed the mark very far.</p> + +<p>Walters was getting sick and tired of the apparently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> fruitless chase +after an elusive German. He had never been known to flinch in the face +of danger—often went out of his way to find it, in fact—but this +constant search for a man whom nobody knew, a man of whom there wasn't +the slightest description, was nerve-racking, to say the least.</p> + +<p>Then, too, he had met Mary McNilless.</p> + +<p>He'd wandered into the Public Library one evening just before closing +time, and, like many another man, had fallen victim to Mary's red hair +and Mary's Irish eyes. But a brick wall was a soft proposition compared +to Mary McNilless. Snubbing good-looking young men who thought that the +tailors were missing an excellent model was part of the day's work with +the little library girl—though she secretly admitted to herself that +this one was a bit above the average.</p> + +<p>Dick didn't get a rise that night, though, or for some days after. Every +evening at seven found him at the desk over which Miss McNilless +presided, framing some almost intelligent question about books in order +to prolong the conversation. Mary would answer politely and—that was +all.</p> + +<p>But, almost imperceptibly, a bond of friendship sprang up between them. +Maybe it was the fact that Dick's mother had been Irish, too, or +possibly it was because he admitted to himself that this girl was +different from the rest, and, admitting it, laid the foundation for a +deep-souled respect that couldn't help but show in his manner.</p> + +<p>Within the month Dick was taking her home, and in six weeks they were +good pals, bumming around to queer, out-of-the-way restaurants and +planning outings which Dick, in his heart, knew could never +materialize—not until von Ewald had been run to cover, at any rate.</p> + +<p>Several times Mary tried to find out her companion's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +profession—diplomatically, of course, but nevertheless she was curious. +Naturally, Dick couldn't tell her. Said he had "just finished a job on +the Coast and was taking a vacation in New York." But Mary had sense +enough to know that he wasn't at leisure. Also that he was working on +something that kept his mind constantly active—for several times he had +excused himself in a hurry and then returned, anywhere from half an hour +to an hour later, with a rather crestfallen expression.</p> + +<p>After they had reached the "Dick and Mary" stage she came right out one +night and asked him.</p> + +<p>"Hon," he told her, "that's one thing that I've got to keep from you for +a while. It's nothing that you would be ashamed of, though, but +something that will make you mighty proud. At least," he added, "It'll +make you proud if I don't fall down on the job almighty hard. Meanwhile, +all I can do is to ask you to trust me. Will you?"</p> + +<p>The tips of her fingers rested on the back of his hand for just a moment +before she said, "You know I will, Dick"—and neither of them mentioned +the subject from that time on.</p> + +<p>On the night of the Black Tom explosion, early in August, Dick didn't +show up at the Library at the usual hour, and, while this didn't worry +Mary, because it had happened several times before, she began to be +annoyed when three nights passed the same way. Of course, she had no way +of knowing that the Service had received a tip from a stool pigeon on +the pay roll of the New York police force that "a bunch of Germans were +planning a big explosion of some kind" just a few hours before the earth +rocked with the force of the blow-up in Jersey. Every government +operative in the city had been informed of the rumor, but few of them +had taken it seriously and not one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> had any reason to expect that the +plot would culminate so close to New York. But the echo of the first +blast had hardly died away before there were a dozen agents on the spot, +weaving a network around the entire district. All they got for their +pains, however, was a few suspects who very evidently didn't know a +thing.</p> + +<p>So it was a very tired and disgusted Dick who entered the Library four +nights later and almost shambled up to Mary's desk.</p> + +<p>"I'll be off duty in half an hour," she told him. "From the way you +look, you need a little comforting."</p> + +<p>"I do that," he admitted. "Don't make me wait any longer than you have +to," and he amused himself by glancing over the late seekers after +knowledge.</p> + +<p>When they had finally seated themselves in a cozy corner of a little +restaurant in the upper Forties, Dick threw caution to the winds and +told Mary all about his troubles.</p> + +<p>"I haven't the least business to do it," he confessed, "and if the chief +found it out I'd be bounced so fast that it would make my head swim. +But, in the first place, I want you to marry me, and I know you wouldn't +think of doing that unless you knew something more about me."</p> + +<p>There was just the flicker of a smile around Mary's mouth as she said, +almost perfunctorily, "No, of course not!" But her intuition told her +that this wasn't the time to joke, and, before Walters could go on, she +added, "I know you well enough, Dick, not to worry about that end of +it."</p> + +<p>So Walters told her everything from the beginning—and it didn't take +more than five minutes at that. Outside of the fact that his people +lived in Des Moines, that he had been in the Secret Service for eight +years, and that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> hadn't been able to do a thing toward the +apprehension of a certain German spy that the government was extremely +anxious to locate, there was pitifully little to tell.</p> + +<p>"The whole thing," he concluded, "came to a head the other night—the +night I didn't show up. We knew that something was going to break, +somewhere, but we couldn't discover where until it was too late to +prevent the explosion across the river. Now that they've gotten away +with that, they'll probably lay their lines for something even bigger."</p> + +<p>"Well, now that I've told you, what d'you think?"</p> + +<p>"You mean you'd like to marry me?" Mary asked with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to put it any plainer," Dick admitted—and what +followed caused the waiter to wheel around and suddenly commence dusting +off a table that already was bright enough to see your face in.</p> + +<p>"There wasn't the slightest clue left after the Black Tom affair?" Mary +asked, as she straightened her hat.</p> + +<p>"Not one. We did find two of the bombs that hadn't exploded—devilishly +clever arrangements, with a new combination of chemicals. Something was +evidently wrong with the mixture, though, for they wouldn't go off, even +when our experts started to play with them. The man who made them +evidently wasn't quite sure of his ground. But there wasn't a thing +about the bombs themselves that would provide any indication of where +they came from."</p> + +<p>"The man who made them must have had a pretty thorough knowledge of +chemistry," Mary mused.</p> + +<p>"Mighty near perfect," admitted Walters. "At least six exploded on time, +and, from what I understand, they were loaded to the muzzle with a +mixture that no one but an expert would dare handle."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And," continued Mary, with just a hint of excitement in her voice, "the +bomb-maker would continue to investigate the subject. He would want to +get the latest information, the most recent books, the—"</p> + +<p>"What are you driving at?" Walters interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Just this," and Mary leaned across the table so that there was no +possibility of being overheard. "We girls have a good deal of time on +our hands, so we get into the habit of making conjectures and forming +theories about the 'regulars'—the people who come into the Library +often enough for us to know them by sight.</p> + +<p>"Up to a month ago there was a man who dropped into the reference room +nearly every day to consult books from Shelf Forty-five. Naturally he +came up to my desk, and, as he usually arrived during the slack periods, +I had plenty of time to study him. Maybe it was because I had been +reading Lombroso, or possibly it's because I am just naturally +observant, but I noticed that, in addition to each of his ears being +practically lobeless, one of them was quite pointed at the top—almost +like a fox's.</p> + +<p>"For a week he didn't show up, and then one day another man came in and +asked for a book from Shelf Forty-five. Just as he turned away I had a +shock. Apparently he wasn't in the least like the other man in anything +save height—but neither of his ears had any lobes to speak of and the +top of them was pointed! When he returned the book I looked him over +pretty thoroughly and came to the conclusion that, in spite of the fact +that his general appearance differed entirely from the other man's, they +were really one and the same!"</p> + +<p>"But what," grumbled Walters, "has that to do with the Black Tom +explosion?"</p> + +<p>"The last time this man came to the Library," said Mary, "was two days +before the night you failed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> arrive—two days before the explosion. +And—Do you know what books are kept on Shelf Forty-five?"</p> + +<p>"No. What?"</p> + +<p>"The latest works on the chemistry of explosives!"</p> + +<p>Walters sat up with a jerk that threatened to overthrow the table.</p> + +<p>"Mary," he said, in a whisper, "I've a hunch that you've succeeded where +all the rest of us fell down! The disguises and the constant reference +to books on explosives are certainly worth looking into. What name did +this man give?"</p> + +<p>"Names," she corrected. "I don't recall what they were or the addresses, +either. But it would be easy to find them on the cards. We don't have +very many calls for books from Shelf Forty-five."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter, though," and Walters slipped back into his +disconsolate mood. "He wouldn't leave a lead as open as that, of +course."</p> + +<p>"No, certainly not," agreed Mary. "But the last time he was there he +asked for Professor Stevens's new book. It hadn't come in then, but I +told him we expected it shortly. So, unless you men have scared him off, +he'll be back in a day or two—possibly in a new disguise. Why don't you +see the librarian, get a place as attendant in the reference room, and +I'll tip you off the instant I spot that pointed ear. That's one thing +he can't hide!"</p> + +<p>The next morning there was a new employee in the reference room. No one +knew where he came from and no one—save the librarian and Mary +McNilless—knew what he was there for, because his principal occupation +appeared to be lounging around inconspicuously in the neighborhood of +the information desk. There he stayed for three days, wondering whether +this clue, like all the rest, would dissolve into thin air.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>About five o'clock on the afternoon of the third day a man strolled up +to Mary's desk and asked if Professor Stevens's book had come in yet. It +was reposing at that moment on Shelf Forty-five, as Mary well knew, but +she said she'd see, and left the room, carefully arranging her hair at +the back of her neck with her left hand—a signal which she and Dick had +agreed upon the preceding evening.</p> + +<p>Before she returned the new attendant had vanished, but Dick Walters, in +his usual garb, was loitering around the only entrance to the reference +room, watching the suspect out of the corner of his eye.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," Mary reported, "but the Stevens book won't be in until +to-morrow," and she was barely able to keep the anxiety out of her voice +as she spoke.</p> + +<p>Had Dick gotten her signal? Would he be able to trail his man? Could he +capture him without being injured? These and a score of other questions +rushed through her mind as she saw the German leave the room. Once +outside—well, she'd have to wait for Dick to tell her what happened +then.</p> + +<p>The man who was interested in the chemistry of explosives apparently +wasn't in the least afraid of being followed, for he took a bus uptown, +alighted at Eighty-third Street, and vanished into one of the +innumerable small apartment houses in that section of the city. Walters +kept close behind him, and he entered the lobby of the apartment house +in time to hear his quarry ascending to the fourth floor. Then he +signaled to the four men who had followed him up the Avenue in a +government-owned machine—men who had been stationed outside the Library +in the event of just such an occurrence—and instructed two of them to +guard the rear of the house, while the other two remained in front.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm going to make this haul myself," Walters stated, "but I want you +boys to cover up in case anything happens to me. No matter what occurs, +don't let him get away. Shoot first and ask questions afterward!" and he +had re-entered the house almost before he finished speaking.</p> + +<p>On the landing at the third floor he paused long enough to give the men +at the rear a chance to get located. Then—a quick ring at the bell on +the fourth floor and he waited for action.</p> + +<p>Nothing happened. Another ring—and still no response.</p> + +<p>As he pressed the button for the third time the door swung slowly +inward, affording only a glimpse of a dark, uninviting hall. But, once +he was inside, the door closed silently and he heard a bolt slipped into +place. Simultaneously a spot light, arranged over the doorway, flashed +on and Dick was almost dazzled by the glare. Out of the darkness came +the guttural inquiry:</p> + +<p>"What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing in the world," replied Walters, "except to know if a man +named Simpson <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'lived'">lives</ins> here."</p> + +<p>"No," came the voice, "he does not. Get out!"</p> + +<p>"Sure I will if you'll pull back that bolt. What's the idea, anyhow? +You're as mysterious as if you were running a bomb factory or +something—"</p> + +<p>As he spoke he ducked, for if the words had the effect he hoped, the +other would realize that he was cornered and attempt to escape.</p> + +<p>A guttural German oath, followed by a rapid movement of the man's hand +toward his hip pocket was the reply. In a flash Dick slipped forward, +bending low to avoid the expected attack, and seized the German in a +half nelson that defied movement. Backing out of the circle of light, he +held the helpless man in front of him—as a shelter in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> case of an +attack from other occupants of the apartment—and called for assistance. +The crash of glass at the rear told him that reinforcements had made +their way up the fire escape and had broken in through the window. A +moment later came the sound of feet on the stairs and the other two +operatives were at the door, revolvers drawn and ready for action.</p> + +<p>But there wasn't any further struggle. Von Ewald—or whatever his real +name was, for that was never decided—was alone and evidently realized +that the odds were overwhelming. Meekly, almost placidly, he allowed the +handcuffs to be slipped over his wrists and stood by as the Secret +Service men searched the apartment. Not a line or record was found to +implicate anyone else—but what they did discover was a box filled with +bombs precisely like those picked up on the scene of the Black Tom +explosion, proof sufficient to send the German to the penitentiary for +ten years—for our laws, unfortunately, do not permit of the death +penalty for spies unless caught red-handed by the military authorities.</p> + +<p>That he was the man for whom they were searching—the mysterious "No. +859"—was apparent from the fact that papers concealed in his desk +contained full details as to the arrangement of the Nemours plant at +Wilmington, Delaware, with a dozen red dots indicative of the best +places to plant bombs. Of his associates and the manner in which he +managed his organization there wasn't the slightest trace. But the Black +Tom explosion, if you recall, was the last big catastrophe of its kind +in America—and the capture of von Ewald was the reason that more of the +German plots didn't succeed.</p> + +<p>The Treasury Department realized this fact when Mary McNilless, on the +morning of the day she was to be married to Dick Walters, U. S. S. S., +received a very handsome<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> chest of silver, including a platter engraved, +"To Miss Mary McNilless, whose cleverness and keen perception saved +property valued at millions of dollars."</p> + +<p>No one ever found out who sent it, but it's a safe bet that the order +came from Washington by way of Wilmington, where the Nemours plant still +stands—thanks to the quickness of Mary's Irish eyes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + +<h3>PHYLLIS DODGE, SMUGGLER EXTRAORDINARY</h3> + + +<p>Bill Quinn tossed aside his evening paper and, cocking his feet upon a +convenient chair, remarked that, now that peace was finally signed, +sealed, and delivered, there ought to be a big boom in the favorite +pastime of the idle rich.</p> + +<p>"Meaning what?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Smuggling, of course," said Quinn, who only retired from Secret Service +when an injury received in action forced him to do so.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever travel on a liner when four out of every five people on +board didn't admit that they were trying to beat the customs officials +one way or another—and the only reason the other one didn't follow suit +was because he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. That's how Uncle +Sam's detectives pick up a lot of clues. The amateur crook never +realizes that silence is golden and that oftentimes speech leads to a +heavy fine.</p> + +<p>"Now that the freedom of the seas is an accomplished fact the whole crew +of would-be smugglers will doubtless get to work again, only to be +nabbed in port. Inasmuch as ocean travel has gone up with the rest of +the cost of living, it'll probably be a sport confined to the +comparatively rich, for a couple of years anyhow.</p> + +<p>"It was different in the old days. Every steamer that came in was loaded +to the eyes and you never knew when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> you were going to spot a hidden +necklace or a packet of diamonds that wasn't destined to pay duty. There +were thrills to the game, too, believe me.</p> + +<p>"Why, just take the case of Phyllis Dodge...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Mrs. Dodge [Quinn continued, after he had packed his pipe to a condition +where it was reasonably sure to remain lighted for some time] was, +theoretically at least, a widow. Her full name, as it appeared on many +passenger lists during the early part of 1913, was Mrs. Mortimer C. +Dodge, of Cleveland, Ohio. When the customs officials came to look into +the matter they weren't able to find anyone in Cleveland who knew her, +but then it's no penal offense to give the purser a wrong address, or +even a wrong name, for that matter.</p> + +<p>While there may have been doubts about Mrs. Dodge's widowhood—or +whether she had ever been married, for that matter—there could be none +about her beauty. In the language of the classics, she was there. Black +hair, brown eyes, a peaches-and-cream complexion that came and went +while you watched it, and a figure that would have made her fortune in +the Follies. Joe Gregory said afterward that trailing her was one of the +easiest things he had ever done.</p> + +<p>To get the whole story of Phyllis and her extraordinary +cleverness—extraordinary because it was so perfectly obvious—we'll +have to cut back a few months before she came on the scene.</p> + +<p>For some time the Treasury Department had been well aware that a number +of precious stones, principally pearl necklaces, were being smuggled +into the country. Agents abroad—the department maintains a regular +force in Paris, London, Rotterdam, and other European points, you +know—had reported the sale of the jewels and they had turned up a few +weeks later in New York<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> or Chicago. But the Customs Service never +considers it wise to trace stones back from their owners on this side. +There are too many ramifications to any well-planned smuggling scheme, +and it is too easy for some one to claim that he had found them in a +long-forgotten chest in the attic or some such story as that. The burden +of proof rests upon the government in a case of this kind and, except in +the last extremity, it always tries to follow the chase from the other +end—to nab the smuggler in the act and thus build up a jury-proof case.</p> + +<p>Reports of the smuggling cases had been filtered into the department +half a dozen times in as many months, and the matter finally got on the +chief's nerves to such a degree that he determined to thrash it out if +it took every man he had.</p> + +<p>In practically every case the procedure was the same—though the only +principals known were different each time.</p> + +<p>Rotterdam, for example, would report: "Pearl necklace valued at $40,000, +sold to-day to man named Silverburg. Have reason to believe it is +destined for States"—and then would follow a technical description of +the necklace. Anywhere from six weeks to three months later the necklace +would turn up in the possession of a jeweler who bore a shady +reputation. Sometimes the article wouldn't appear at all, which might +have been due to the fact that they weren't brought into this country or +that the receivers had altered them beyond recognition. However, the +European advices pointed to the latter supposition—which didn't soothe +the chief's nerves the least bit.</p> + +<p>Finally, along in the middle of the spring of nineteen thirteen, there +came a cable from Paris announcing the sale of the famous Yquem +emerald—a gorgeous stone that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> you couldn't help recognizing once you +got the description. The purchaser was reported to be an American named +Williamson. He paid cash for it, so his references and his antecedents +were not investigated at the time.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, it wasn't two months later when a report came in from +Chicago that a pork-made millionaire had added to his collection a stone +which tallied to the description of the Yquem emerald.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go after it from this end, Chief?" inquired one of the men on +the job in Washington. "We can make the man who bought it tell us where +he got it and then sweat the rest of the game out of the go-betweens."</p> + +<p>"Yes," snorted the chief, "and be laughed out of court on some +trumped-up story framed by a well-paid lawyer. Not a chance! I'm going +to land those birds and land 'em with the goods. We can't afford to take +any chances with this crowd. They've evidently got money and brains, a +combination that you've got to stay awake nights to beat. No—we'll nail +'em in New York just as they're bringing the stones in.</p> + +<p>"Send a wire to Gregory to get on the job at once and tell New York to +turn loose every man they've got—though they've been working on the +case long enough, Heaven knows!"</p> + +<p>The next morning when Gregory and his society manner strolled into the +customhouse in New York he found the place buzzing. Evidently the +instructions from Washington had been such as to make the entire force +fear for their jobs unless the smuggling combination was broken up +quickly. It didn't take Joe very long to get the details. They weren't +many and he immediately discarded the idea of possible collusion between +the buyers of the stones abroad. It looked to be a certainty on the face +of it, but, once you had discovered that, what good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> did it do you? It +wasn't possible to jail a man just because he bought some jewels in +Europe—and, besides, the orders from Washington were very clear that +the case was to be handled strictly from this side—at least, the final +arrest was to be made on American soil, to avoid extradition +complications and the like.</p> + +<p>So when Joe got all the facts they simply were that some valuable jewels +had been purchased in Europe and had turned up in America, without going +through the formality of visiting the customhouse, anywhere from six +weeks to three months later.</p> + +<p>"Not much to work on," grumbled Gregory, "and I suppose, as usual, that +the chief will be as peevish as Hades if we don't nab the guilty party +within the week."</p> + +<p>"It's more than possible," admitted one of the men who had handled the +case.</p> + +<p>Gregory studied the dates on which the jewels had been purchased and +those on which they had been located in this country for a few moments +in silence. Then:</p> + +<p>"Get me copies of the passenger lists of every steamer that has docked +here in the past year," he directed. "Of course it's possible that these +things might have been landed at Boston or Philadelphia, but New York's +the most likely port."</p> + +<p>When the lists had been secured Gregory stuffed them into his suit case +and started for the door.</p> + +<p>"Where you going?" inquired McMahon, the man in charge of the New York +office.</p> + +<p>"Up to the Adirondacks for a few days," Gregory replied.</p> + +<p>"What's the idea? Think the stuff is being brought over by airplane and +landed inland? Liners don't dock upstate, you know."</p> + +<p>"No," said Gregory, "but that's where I'm going to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> dock until I can +digest this stuff," and he tapped his suit case. "Somewhere in this +bunch of booklets there's a clue to this case and it's up to me to spot +it. Good-by."</p> + +<p>Five days later when he sauntered back into the New York office the suit +case was surprisingly light. Apparently every one of the passenger lists +had vanished. As a matter of fact, they had been boiled down to three +names which were carefully inscribed in Joe's notebook.</p> + +<p>"Did you pick up any jewels in the Catskills?" was the question that +greeted him when he entered.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't in the Catskills," he growled. "Went up to a camp in the +Adirondacks—colder'n blazes. Any more stuff turn up?"</p> + +<p>"No, but a wire came from Washington just after you left to watch out +for a hundred-thousand-dollar string of pearls sold at a private auction +in London last week to an American named—"</p> + +<p>"I don't care what <i>his</i> name was," Gregory cut in. "What was the date +they were sold?"</p> + +<p>"The sixteenth."</p> + +<p>Gregory glanced at the calendar.</p> + +<p>"And to-day is the twenty-second," he mused. "What boats are due in the +next three days?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Cretic</i> docks this afternoon and the <i>Tasmania</i> ought to get in +to-morrow. That'll be all until the end of the week."</p> + +<p>"Right!" snapped Gregory. "Don't let a soul off the <i>Cretic</i> until I've +had a look at her passenger list. It's too late to go down the harbor +now, but not a person's to get off that ship until I've had a chance to +look 'em over. Also cable for a copy of the <i>Tasmania's</i> passenger list. +Hurry it up!"</p> + +<p>Less than ten minutes after he had slipped on board the <i>Cretic</i>, +however, Gregory gave the signal which permitted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> the gangplank to be +lowered and the passengers to proceed as usual—except for the fact that +the luggage of everyone and the persons of not a few were searched with +more than the average carefulness. But not a trace of the pearls was +found, as Joe had anticipated. A careful inspection of the passenger +list and a few moments with the purser had convinced him that none of +his three suspects were on board.</p> + +<p>Shortly after he returned to the office, the list of the <i>Tasmania's</i> +passengers began to come over the cables. Less than half a page had been +received when Gregory uttered a sudden exclamation, reached for his +notebook, compared a name in it with one which appeared on the cabled +report, and indulged in the luxury of a deep-throated chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Greg's got a nibble somewhere," commented one of the bystanders.</p> + +<p>"Yes," admitted his companion, "but landin' the fish is a different +matter. Whoever's on the other end of that line is a mighty cagy +individual."</p> + +<p>But, though he undoubtedly overheard the remark, Gregory didn't seem to +be the least bit worried. In fact, his hat was at a more rakish angle +than usual and his cane fairly whistled through the air as he wandered +up the Avenue half an hour later.</p> + +<p>The next the customs force heard of him was when he boarded the +quarantine boat the next morning, clambering on the liner a little later +with all the skill of a pilot.</p> + +<p>"You have a passenger on board by the name of Dodge," he informed the +purser, after he had shown his badge. "Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge. What do +you know about her?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing in the world," said the purser, "except that she is a most +beautiful and apparently attractive woman. Crossed with us once +before—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Twice," corrected Gregory. "Came over in January and went right back."</p> + +<p>"That's right," said the purser, "so she did. I'd forgotten that. But, +beyond that fact, there isn't anything that I can add."</p> + +<p>"Seem to be familiar with anyone on board?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly. Mixes with the younger married set and I've noticed +her on deck with the Mortons quite frequently. Probably met them on her +return trip last winter. They were along then, if I remember rightly."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said the customs operative. "You needn't mention anything +about my inquiries, of course," and he mixed with the throng of +newspaper reporters who were picking up news in various sections of the +big vessel.</p> + +<p>When the <i>Tasmania</i> docked, Gregory was the first one off.</p> + +<p>"Search Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge to the skin," he directed the matron. +"Take down her hair, tap the heels of her shoes, and go through all the +usual stunts, but be as gentle as you can about it. Say that we've +received word that some uncut diamonds—not pearls, mind you—are +concealed on the <i>Tasmania</i> and that orders have been given to go over +everybody thoroughly. Pass the word along the line to give out the same +information, so she won't be suspicious. I don't think you'll find +anything, but you never can tell."</p> + +<p>At that, Joe was right. The matron didn't locate a blessed thing out of +the way. Mrs. Dodge had brought in a few dutiable trinkets, but they +were all down on her declaration, and within the hour she was headed +uptown in a taxi, accompanied by a maid who had met her as she stepped +out of the customs office.</p> + +<p>Not far behind them trailed another taxi, top up and Gregory's eyes +glued to the window behind the chauffeur.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>The first machine finally drew up at the Astor, and Mrs. Dodge and the +maid went in, followed by a pile of luggage which had been searched +until it was a moral certainty that not a needle would have been +concealed in it.</p> + +<p>Gregory waited until they were out of sight and then followed.</p> + +<p>In answer to his inquiries at the desk he learned that Mrs. Dodge had +stopped at the hotel several times before and the house detective +assured him that there was nothing suspicious about her conduct.</p> + +<p>"How about the maid?" inquired Gregory.</p> + +<p>"Don't know a thing about her, either, except that she is the same one +she had before. Pretty little thing, too—though not as good-looking as +her mistress."</p> + +<p>For the next three days Joe hung around the hotel or followed the lady +from the <i>Tasmania</i> wherever she went. Something in the back of his +head—call it intuition or a hunch or whatever you please, but it's the +feeling that a good operative gets when he's on the right trail—told +him that he was "warm," as the kids say. Appearances seemed to deny that +fact. Mrs. Dodge went only to the most natural places—a few visits to +the stores, a couple to fashionable modistes and milliners, and some +drives through the Park, always accompanied by her maid and always in +the most sedate and open manner.</p> + +<p>But on the evening of the third day the house detective tipped Joe off +that his prey was leaving in the morning.</p> + +<p>"Guess she's going back to Europe," reported the house man. "Gave orders +to have a taxi ready at nine and her trunks taken down to the docks +before them. Better get busy if you want to land her."</p> + +<p>"I'm not ready for that just yet," Gregory admitted with a scowl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Mrs. Dodge's taxi drove off the following morning Joe wasn't far +away, and, acting on orders which he had delivered over the phone, no +less than half a dozen operatives watched the lady and the maid very +closely when they reached the dock.</p> + +<p>Not a thing came of it, however. Both of them went to the stateroom +which had been reserved and the maid remained to help with the unpacking +until the "All-ashore-that-'re-going-ashore" was bellowed through the +boat. Then she left and stood on the pier until the ship had cleared the +dock.</p> + +<p>"It beats me," muttered Gregory. "But I'm willing to gamble my job that +I'm right." And that night he wired to Washington to keep a close +lookout for the London pearls, adding that he felt certain they would +turn up before long.</p> + +<p>"In that case," muttered the chief at the other end of the wire, "why in +Heaven's name didn't he get them when they came in?"</p> + +<p>Sure enough, not a fortnight had passed before St. Louis reported that a +string of pearls, perfectly matched, answering to the description of the +missing jewels, had been offered for sale there through private +channels.</p> + +<p>The first reaction was a telegram to Gregory that fairly burned the +wires, short but to the point. "Either the man who smuggled that +necklace or your job in ten days," it read.</p> + +<p>And Gregory replied, "Give me three weeks and you'll have one or the +other."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile he had been far from inactive. Still playing his hunch that +Phyllis Dodge had something to do with the smuggling game, he had put in +time cultivating the only person on this side that appeared to know +her—the maid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was far from a thankless task, for Alyce—she spelled it with a +"y"—was pretty and knew it. Furthermore, she appeared to be entirely +out of her element in a cheap room on Twenty-fourth Street. Most of the +time she spent in wandering up the Avenue, and it was there that Gregory +made her acquaintance—through the expedient of bumping her bag out of +her hands and restoring it with one of his courtly bows. The next minute +he was strolling alongside, remarking on the beauty of the weather.</p> + +<p>But, although he soon got to know Alyce well enough to take her to the +theater and to the cabarets, it didn't seem to get him anywhere. She was +perfectly frank about her position. Said she was a hair dresser by trade +and that she acted as lady's maid to a Mrs. Dodge, who spent the better +part of her time abroad.</p> + +<p>"In fact," she said, "Mrs. Dodge is only here three or four days every +two months or so."</p> + +<p>"And she pays you for your time in between?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," Alyce replied; "she's more than generous."</p> + +<p>"I should say she was," Gregory thought to himself—but he considered it +best to change the subject.</p> + +<p>During the days that followed, Joe exerted every ounce of his +personality in order to make the best possible impression. Posing as a +man who had made money in the West, he took Alyce everywhere and treated +her royally. Finally, when he considered the time ripe, he injected a +little love into the equation and hinted that he thought it was about +time to settle down and that he appeared to have found the proper person +to settle with.</p> + +<p>But there, for the first time, Alyce balked. She didn't refuse him, but +she stated in so many words that she had a place that suited her for the +time being, and that, until the fall, at least, she preferred to keep on +with it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That suits me all right," declared Gregory. "Take your time about it. +Meanwhile we'll continue to be good friends and trail around together, +eh?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Alyce, "er—that is—until Tuesday."</p> + +<p>"Tuesday?" inquired Joe. "What's coming off Tuesday?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dodge will arrive on the <i>Atlantic</i>," was the reply, "and I'll +have to be with her for three days at least."</p> + +<p>"Three days—" commenced Gregory, and halted himself. It wasn't wise to +show too much interest. But that night he called the chief on long +distance and inquired if there had been any recent reports of suspicious +jewel sales abroad. "Yes," came the voice from Washington, "pearls +again. Loose ones, this time. And your three weeks' grace is up at noon +Saturday." The click that followed as the receiver hung up was finality +itself.</p> + +<p>The same procedure, altered in a few minor details, was followed when +Mrs. Dodge landed. Again she was searched to the skin; again her luggage +was gone over with microscopic care, and again nothing was found.</p> + +<p>This time she stayed at the Knickerbocker, but Alyce was with her as +usual.</p> + +<p>Deprived of his usual company and left to his own devices, Gregory took +a long walk up the Drive and tried to thrash out the problem.</p> + +<p>"Comes over on a different boat almost every trip," he thought, "so that +eliminates collusion with any of the crew. Doesn't stay at the same +hotel two times running, so there's nothing there. Has the same maid and +always returns—"</p> + +<p>Then it was that motorists on Riverside Drive were treated to the sight +of a young and extremely prepossessing man, dressed in the height of +fashion, throwing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> his hat in the air and uttering a yell that could be +heard for blocks. After which he disappeared hurriedly in the direction +of the nearest drug store.</p> + +<p>A hasty search through the phone book gave him the number he wanted—the +offices of the Black Star line.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. MacPherson, the purser of the <i>Atlantic</i>, there?" he inquired. +Then: "Hello! Mr. MacPherson? This is Gregory, Customs Division. You +remember me, don't you? Worked on the Maitland diamond case with you two +years ago.... Wonder if you could tell me something I want to know—is +Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge booked to go back with you to-morrow?... She is? +What's the number of her stateroom? And—er—what was the number of the +room she had coming over?... I thank you."</p> + +<p>If the motorists whom Gregory had startled on the Drive had seen him +emerge from the phone booth they would have marveled at the look of keen +satisfaction and relief that was spread over his face. The cat that +swallowed the canary was tired of life, compared with Joe at that +moment.</p> + +<p>Next morning the Customs operatives were rather surprised to see Gregory +stroll down to the <i>Atlantic</i> dock about ten o'clock.</p> + +<p>"Thought you were somewhere uptown on the chief's pet case," said one of +them.</p> + +<p>"So I was," answered Joe. "But that's practically cleaned up."</p> + +<p>With that he went aboard, and no one saw him until just before the +"All-ashore" call. Then he took up his place beside the gangplank, with +three other men placed near by in case of accident.</p> + +<p>"Follow my lead," he directed. "I'll speak to the girl. Two of you stick +here to make certain that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> doesn't get away, and you, Bill, beat it +on board then and tell the captain that the boat's not to clear until we +give the word. We won't delay him more than ten minutes at the outside."</p> + +<p>When Alyce came down the gangplank a few minutes later, in the midst of +people who had been saying good-by to friends and relatives, she spotted +Joe waiting for her, and started to move hurriedly away. Gregory caught +up with her before she had gone a dozen feet.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Alyce," he said. "Thought I'd come down to meet you. +What've you got in the bag there?" indicating her maid's handbag.</p> + +<p>"Not—not a thing," said the girl, flushing. Just then the matron joined +the party, as previously arranged, and Joe's tone took on its official +hardness.</p> + +<p>"Hurry up and search her! We don't want to keep the boat any longer than +we have to."</p> + +<p>Less than a minute later the matron thrust her head out of the door long +enough to report: "We found 'em—the pearls. She had 'em in the front of +her dress."</p> + +<p>Gregory was up the gangplank in a single bound. A moment later he was +knocking at the door of Mrs. Dodge's stateroom. The instant the knob +turned he was inside, informing Phyllis that she was under arrest on a +charge of bringing jewels into the United States without the formality +of paying duty. Of course, the lady protested—but the <i>Atlantic</i> +sailed, less than ten minutes behind schedule time, without her.</p> + +<p>Promptly at twelve the phone on the desk of the chief of the Customs +Division in Washington buzzed noisily.</p> + +<p>"Gregory speaking," came through the receiver. "My time's up—and I've +got the party you want. Claims to be from Cleveland and sails under the +name of Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> Mortimer C. Dodge—first name Phyllis. She's confessed and +promises to turn state's evidence if we'll go light with her."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"That," added Quinn, "was the finish of Mrs. Dodge, so far as the +government was concerned. In order to land the whole crew—the people +who were handling the stuff on this side as well as the ones who were +mixed up in the scheme abroad—they let her go scot-free, with the +proviso that she's to be rushed to Atlanta if she ever pokes her nose +into the United States again. The last I heard of her she was in Monaco, +tangled up in a blackmail case there.</p> + +<p>"Gregory told me all about it sometime later. Said that the first hunch +had come to him when he studied the passengers' lists in the wilds of +the Adirondacks. Went there to be alone and concentrate. He found that +of all the people listed, only three—two men and a Mrs. Dodge—had made +the trip frequently in the past six months. The frequency of Mrs. +Dodge's travel evidently made it impracticable for her to use different +aliases. Some one would be sure to spot her.</p> + +<p>"But it wasn't until that night on Riverside Drive that the significance +of the data struck him. Each time she took the same boat on which she +had come over! Did she have the same stateroom? The phone call to +MacPherson established the fact that she did—this time at least. The +rest was almost as obvious as the original plan. The jewels were brought +aboard, passed on to Phyllis, and she tucked them away somewhere in her +stateroom. Her bags and her person could, of course, be searched with +perfect safety. Then, what was more natural than that her maid should +accompany her on board when she was leaving? Nobody ever pays any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +attention to people who board the boat at <i>this</i> end, so Alyce was able +to walk off with the stuff under the very eyes of the customs +authorities—and they found later that she had the nerve to place it in +the hands of the government for the next twenty-four hours. She sent it +by registered mail to Pittsburgh and it was passed along through an +underground "fence" channel until a prospective purchaser appeared.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly obvious and perfectly simple—that's why the plan succeeded +until Gregory began to make love to Alyce and got the idea that Mrs. +Dodge was going right back to Europe hammered into his head. It had +occurred to him before, but he hadn't placed much value on it....</p> + +<p>"O-o-o-o!" yawned Quinn. "I'm getting dry. Trot out some grape juice and +put on that Kreisler record—'Drigo's Serenade.' I love to hear it. +Makes me think of the time when they landed that scoundrel Weimar."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> + +<h3>A MATTER OF RECORD</h3> + + +<p>"What was that you mentioned last week—something about the record of +Kreisler's 'Drigo's Serenade' reminding you of the capture of some one?" +I asked Bill Quinn one summer evening as he painfully hoisted his game +leg upon the porch railing.</p> + +<p>"Sure it does," replied Quinn. "Never fails. Put it on again so I can +get the necessary atmosphere, as you writers call it, and possibly I'll +spill the yarn—provided you guarantee to keep the ginger ale flowing +freely. That and olive oil are about the only throat lubricants left +us."</p> + +<p>So I slipped on the record, rustled a couple of bottles from the ice +box, and settled back comfortably, for when Quinn once started on one of +his reminiscences of government detective work he didn't like to be +interrupted.</p> + +<p>"That's the piece, all right," Bill remarked, as the strains of the +violin drifted off into the night. "Funny how a few notes of music like +that could nail a criminal while at the same time it was saving the +lives of nobody knows how many other people—"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Remember Paul Weimar [continued Quinn, picking up the thread of his +story]. He was the most dangerous of the entire gang that helped von +Bernstorff, von Papen, and the rest of that crew plot against the United +States at a time when we were supposed to be entirely neutral.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>An Austrian by birth, Weimar was as thoroughly a Hun at heart as anyone +who ever served the Hohenzollerns and, in spite of his size, he was as +slippery as they make 'em. Back in the past somewhere he had been a +detective in the service of the Atlas Line, but for some years before +the war was superintendent of the police attached to the +Hamburg-American boats. That, of course, gave him the inside track in +every bit of deviltry he wanted to be mixed up in, for he had made it +his business to cultivate the acquaintance of wharf rats, dive keepers, +and all the rest of the scum of the Seven Seas that haunts the docks.</p> + +<p>Standing well over six feet, Weimar had a pair of fists that came in +mighty handy in a scuffle, and a tongue that could curl itself around +all the blasphemies of a dozen languages. There wasn't a water front +where they didn't hate him—neither was there a water front where they +didn't fear him.</p> + +<p>Of course, when the war broke in August, 1914, the Hamburg-American line +didn't have any further official use for Weimar. Their ships were tied +up in neutral or home ports and Herr Paul was out of a job—for at least +ten minutes. But he was entirely too valuable a man for the German +organization to overlook for longer than that, and von Papen, in +Washington, immediately added him to his organization—with blanket +instructions to go the limit on any dirty work he cared to undertake. +Later, he worked for von Bernstorff; Doctor Dumba, the Austrian +ambassador; and Doctor von Nuber, the Austrian consul in New York—but +von Papen had first claim upon his services and did not hesitate to +press them, as proven by certain entries in the checkbook of the +military attaché during the spring and summer of 1915.</p> + +<p>Of course, it didn't take the Secret Service and the men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> from the +Department of Justice very long to get on to the fact that Weimar was +altogether too close to the German embassy for the safety and comfort of +the United States government. But what were they to do about it? We +weren't at war then and you couldn't arrest a man merely because he +happened to know von Papen and the rest of his precious companions. You +had to have something on him—something that would stand up in +court—and Paul Weimar was too almighty clever to let that happen.</p> + +<p>When you remember that it took precisely one year to land this +Austrian—one year of constant watching and unceasing espionage—you +will see how well he conducted himself.</p> + +<p>And the government's sleuths weren't the only ones who were after him, +either.</p> + +<p>Captain Kenney, of the New York Police Force, lent mighty efficient aid +and actually invented a new system of trailing in order to find out just +what he was up to.</p> + +<p>In the old days, you told a man to go out and follow a suspect and that +was all there was to it. The "shadow" would trail along half a block or +so in the rear, keeping his man always in view, and bring home a full +account of what he had done all day. But you couldn't do that with +Weimar—he was too foxy. From what some of the boys have told me, I +think he took a positive delight in throwing them off the scent, whether +he had anything up his sleeve or not.</p> + +<p>One day, for example, you could have seen his big bulk swinging +nonchalantly up Broadway, as if he didn't have a care in the world. A +hundred feet or more behind him was Bob Dugan, one of Kenney's men. When +Weimar disappeared into the Subway station at Times Square, Dugan was +right behind him, and when the Austrian boarded the local for Grand +Central Station, Dugan was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> on the same train—on the same car, in fact. +But when they reached the station, things began to happen. Weimar left +the local and commenced to stroll up and down the platform, waiting +until a local train and an express arrived at the same time. That was +his opportunity. He made a step or two forward, as if to board the +express, and Dugan—not wishing to make himself too conspicuous—slipped +on board just as the doors were closing, only to see Weimar push back +and jam his way on the local!</p> + +<p>Variations of that stunt occurred time after time. Even the detailing of +two men to follow him failed in its purpose, for the Austrian would +enter a big office building, leap into an express elevator just as it +was about to ascend, slip the operator a dollar to stop at one of the +lower floors, and be lost for the day or until some one picked him up by +accident.</p> + +<p>So Cap Kenney called in four of his best men and told them that it was +essential that Weimar be watched.</p> + +<p>"Two of you," he directed, "stick with him all the time. Suppose you +locate him the first thing in the morning at his house on Twenty-fourth +Street, for example. You, Cottrell, station yourself two blocks up the +street. Gary, you go the same distance down. Then, no matter which way +he starts he'll have one of you in front of him and one behind. The man +in front will have to use his wits to guess which way he intends to go +and to beat him to it. If he boards a car, the man in front can pick him +up with the certainty that the other will cover the trail in the rear. +In that way you ought to be able to find out where he is going and, +possibly, what he is doing there."</p> + +<p>The scheme, thanks to the quick thinking of the men assigned to the job, +worked splendidly for months—at least it worked in so far as keeping a +watch on Weimar was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> concerned. But that was all. In the summer of 1915 +the government knew precisely where Weimar had been for the past six +months, with whom he had talked, and so on—but the kernel of the nut +was missing. There wasn't the least clue to what he had talked about and +what deviltry he had planned!</p> + +<p>Without that information, all the dope the government had was about as +useful as a movie to a blind man.</p> + +<p>Washington was so certain that Weimar had the key to a number of very +important developments—among them the first attempt to blow up the +Welland Canal—that the chief of the Secret Service made a special trip +to New York to talk to Kenney.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it possible," he suggested, "to plant your men close enough to +Weimar to find out, for example, what he talks about over the phone?"</p> + +<p>Kenney smiled, grimly.</p> + +<p>"Chief," he said, "that's been done. We've tapped every phone that +Weimar's likely to use in the neighborhood of his house and every time +he talks from a public station one of our men cuts in from near-by—by +an arrangement with Central—and gets every word. But that bird is too +wary to be caught with chaff of that kind. He's evidently worked out a +verbal code of some kind that changes every day. He tells the man at the +other end, for example, to be at the drug store on the corner of +Seventy-third and Broadway at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon and wait +for a phone call in the name of Williams. Our man is always at the place +at the appointed hour, but no call ever arrives. 'Seventy-third and +Broadway' very evidently means some other address, but it's useless to +try and guess which one. You'd have to have a man at every pay station +in town to follow that lead."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How about overhearing his directions to the men he meets in the open?"</p> + +<p>"Not a chance in the world. His rendezvous are always public places—the +Pennsylvania or Grand Central Station, a movie theater, a hotel lobby, +or the like. There he can put his back against the wall and make sure +that no one is listening in. He's on to all the tricks of the trade and +it will take a mighty clever man—or a bunch of them—to nail him."</p> + +<p>"H-m-m!" mused the chief. "Well, at that, I believe I've got the man."</p> + +<p>"Anyone I know?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think you do—Morton Maxwell. Remember him? Worked on the +Castleman diamond case here a couple of years ago for the customs people +and was also responsible for uncovering the men behind the sugar-tax +fraud. He isn't in the Service, but he's working for the Department of +Justice, and I'm certain they'll turn him loose on this if I ask them +to. Maxwell can get to the bottom of Weimar's business, if anyone can. +Let me talk to Washington—"</p> + +<p>And within an hour after the chief had hung up the receiver Morton +Maxwell, better known as "Mort," was headed toward New York with +instructions to report at Secret Service headquarters in that city.</p> + +<p>Once there, the chief and Kenney went over the whole affair with him. +Cottrell and Gary and the other men who had been engaged in shadowing +the elusive Weimar were called in to tell their part of the story, and +every card was laid upon the table.</p> + +<p>When the conference concluded, sometime after midnight, the chief turned +to Maxwell and inquired:</p> + +<p>"Well, what's your idea about it?"</p> + +<p>For a full minute Mort smoked on in silence and gazed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> off into space. +Men who had just met him were apt to think this a pose, a play to the +grand stand—but those who knew him best realized that Maxwell's alert +mind was working fastest in such moments and that he much preferred not +to make any decision until he had turned things over in his head.</p> + +<p>"There's just one point which doesn't appear to have been covered," he +replied. Then, as Kenney started to cut in, "No, Chief, I said +<i>appeared</i> not to have been covered. Very possibly you have all the +information on it and forgot to hand it out. Who does this Weimar live +with?"</p> + +<p>"He lives by himself in a house on Twenty-fourth Street, near Seventh +Avenue—boards there, but has the entire second floor. So far as we've +been able to find out he has never been married. No trace of any wife on +this side, anyhow. Never travels with women—probably afraid they'd talk +too much."</p> + +<p>"Has he any relatives?"</p> + +<p>"None that I know of—"</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," Cottrell interrupted. "I dug back into Weimar's record +before the war ended his official connection with the steamship company, +and one of the points I picked up was that he had a cousin—a man named +George Buch—formerly employed on one of the boats.</p> + +<p>"Where is Buch now?" asked Maxwell.</p> + +<p>"We haven't been able to locate him," admitted the police detective. +"Not that we've tried very hard, because the trail didn't lead in his +direction. I don't even know that he is in this country, but it's likely +that he is because he was on one of the boats that was interned here +when the war broke."</p> + +<p>Again it was a full minute before Maxwell spoke.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Buch," he said, finally, "appears to be the only link between Weimar +and the outer world. It's barely possible that he knows something, and, +as we can't afford to overlook any clue, suppose we start work along +that line. I'll dig into it myself the first thing in the morning, and I +certainly would appreciate any assistance that your men could give me, +Chief. Tell them to make discreet inquiries about Buch, his appearance, +habits, etc., and to try and find out whether he is on this side. Now +I'm going to turn in, for something seems to tell me that the busy +season has arrived."</p> + +<p>At that Maxwell wasn't far wrong. The weeks that followed were well +filled with work, but it was entirely unproductive of results. Weimar +was shadowed day and night, his telephones tapped and his mail examined. +But, save for the fact that his connection with the German embassy +became increasingly apparent, no further evidence was forthcoming.</p> + +<p>The search for Buch was evidently futile, for that personage appeared to +have disappeared from the face of the earth. All that Maxwell and the +other men who worked on the matter could discover was that Buch—a young +Austrian whose description they secured—had formerly been an intimate +of Weimar. The latter had obtained his appointment to a minor office in +the Hamburg-American line and Buch was commonly supposed to be a stool +pigeon for the master plotter.</p> + +<p>But right there the trail stopped.</p> + +<p>No one appeared to know whether the Austrian was in New York, or the +United States, for that matter, though one informant did admit that it +was quite probable.</p> + +<p>"Buch and the big fellow had a row the last time over," was the +information Maxwell secured at the cost of a few drinks. "Something +about some money that Weimar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> is supposed to have owed him—fifteen +dollars or some such amount. I didn't hear about it until afterward, but +it appears to have been a pretty lively scrap while it lasted. Of +course, Buch didn't have a chance against the big fellow—he could +handle a bull. But the young Austrian threatened to tip his hand—said +he knew a lot of stuff that would be worth a good deal more money than +was coming to him, and all that sort of thing. But the ship docked the +next day and I haven't seen or heard of him since."</p> + +<p>The idea of foul play at once leaped into Maxwell's mind, but +investigation of police records failed to disclose the discovery of +anybody answering to the description of George Buch and, as Captain +Kenney pointed out, it is a decidedly difficult matter to dispose of a +corpse in such a way as not to arouse at least the suspicions of the +police.</p> + +<p>As a last resort, about the middle of September, Maxwell had a reward +posted on the bulletin board of every police station in New York and the +surrounding country for the "apprehension of George Buch, Austrian, age +about twenty-four. Height, five feet eight inches. Hair, blond. +Complexion, fair. Eyes, blue. Sandy mustache."</p> + +<p>As Captain Kenney pointed out, though, the description would apply to +several thousand men of German parentage in the city, and to a good many +more who didn't have a drop of Teutonic blood in their veins.</p> + +<p>"True enough," Maxwell was forced to admit, "but we can't afford to +overlook a bet—even if it is a thousand-to-one shot."</p> + +<p>As luck would have it, the thousand-to-one shot won!</p> + +<p>On September 25, 1917, Detective Gary returned to headquarters, +distinctly crestfallen. Weimar had given him the slip.</p> + +<p>In company with another man, whom the detective did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> not know, the +Austrian had been walking up Sixth Avenue that afternoon when a machine +swung in from Thirty-sixth Street and the Austrian had leaped aboard +without waiting for it to come to a full stop.</p> + +<p>"Of course, there wasn't a taxi in sight," said Gary, ruefully, "and +before I could convince the nearest chauffeur that my badge wasn't phony +they'd gone!"</p> + +<p>"That's the first time in months," Gary replied. "He knows that he's +followed, all right, and he's cagy enough to keep in the open and +pretend to be aboveboard."</p> + +<p>"Right," commented the Department of Justice operative, "and this move +would appear to indicate that something was doing. Better phone all your +stations to watch out for him, Cap."</p> + +<p>But nothing more was seen or heard of Herr Weimar for five days.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile events moved rapidly for Maxwell.</p> + +<p>On September 26th, the day after the Austrian disappeared, one of the +policemen whose beat lay along Fourteenth Street, near Third Avenue, +asked to see the government detective.</p> + +<p>"My name's Riley," announced the copper, with a brogue as broad as the +toes of his shoes. "Does this Austrian, this here Buch feller ye're +lookin' for, like music? Is he nuts about it?"</p> + +<p>"Music?" echoed Maxwell. "I'm sure I don't know.... But wait a minute! +Yes, that's what that chap who used to know him on the boat told me. +Saying he was forever playing a fiddle when he was off duty and that +Weimar threw it overboard one day in a fit of rage. Why? What's the +connection?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin' in particular, save that a little girl I'm rather sweet on +wurruks in a music store on Fourteenth Street an' she an' I was talkin' +things over last night an' I happened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> to mintion th' reward offered for +this Buch feller. 'Why!' says she, 'that sounds just like the Dutchy +that used to come into th' shop a whole lot a year or so ago. He was +crazy about music an' kep' himself pretty nigh broke a-buyin' those +expensive new records. Got me to save him every violin one that came +out.'"</p> + +<p>"Um, yes," muttered Maxwell, "but has the young lady seen anything of +this chap lately?"</p> + +<p>"That she has not," Riley replied, "an' right there's th' big idear. +Once a week, regular, another Dutchman comes in an' buys a record, an' +he told Katy—that's me gurrul's name—last winter that th' selections +were for a man that used to be a stiddy customer of hers but who was now +laid up in bed."</p> + +<p>"In bed for over a year!" exclaimed Maxwell, his face lighting up. "Held +prisoner somewhere in the neighborhood of that shop on Fourteenth +Street, because the big Austrian hasn't the nerve to make away with him +and yet fears that he knows too much! Look here, Riley—suppose you and +Miss Katy take a few nights off—I'll substitute for her and make it all +right with the man who owns the store. Then I can get a line on this +buyer of records for sick men."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be better, sir, if we hung around outside th' store an' let +Katy give us the high sign when he come in? Then we could both trail him +back to where he lives."</p> + +<p>"You're right, Riley, it would! Where'll I meet you to-night?"</p> + +<p>"At the corner of Fourteenth Street and Thoid Av'nue, at eight o'clock. +Katy says th' man never gets there before nine."</p> + +<p>"I'll be there," said Maxwell—and he was.</p> + +<p>But nothing out of the ordinary rewarded their vigil the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> first night, +nor the second. On the third night, however, just after the clock in the +Metropolitan Tower had boomed nine times, a rather nondescript +individual sauntered into the music store, and Riley's quick eyes saw +the girl behind the counter put her left hand to her chest. Then she +coughed.</p> + +<p>"That's th' signal, sir," warned the policeman in a whisper. "An' that's +the guy we're after."</p> + +<p>Had the man turned around as he made his way toward a dark and +forbidding house on Thirteenth Street, not far from Fourth Avenue, he +might have caught sight of two shadows skulking along not fifty feet +behind him. But, at that, he would have to have been pretty quick—for +Maxwell was taking no chances on losing his prey and he had cautioned +the policeman not to make a sound.</p> + +<p>When their quarry ascended the steps of No. 247 Riley started to move +after him, but the Department of Justice operative halted him.</p> + +<p>"There's no hurry," stated Maxwell. "He doesn't suspect we're here, and, +besides, it doesn't make any difference if he does lock the door—I've +got a skeleton key handy that's guaranteed to open anything."</p> + +<p>Riley grunted, but stayed where he was until Maxwell gave the signal to +advance.</p> + +<p>Once inside the door, which responded to a single turn to the key, the +policeman and the government agent halted in the pitch-black darkness +and listened. Then from an upper floor came the sound for which Maxwell +had been waiting—the first golden notes of a violin played by a master +hand. The distance and the closed doorway which intervened killed all +the harsh mechanical tone of the phonograph and only the wonderful +melody of "Drigo's Serenade" came down to them.</p> + +<p>On tiptoe, though they knew their movements would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> be masked by the +sounds of the music, Riley and Maxwell crept up to the third floor and +halted outside the door from which the sounds came.</p> + +<p>"Wait until the record is over," directed Maxwell, "and then break down +that door. Have your gun handy and don't hesitate to shoot anyone who +tries to injure Buch. I'm certain he's held prisoner here and it may be +that the men who are guarding him have instructions not to let him +escape at any cost. Ready? Let's go!"</p> + +<p>The final note of the Kreisler record had not died away before Riley's +shoulder hit the flimsy door and the two detectives were in the room.</p> + +<p>Maxwell barely had time to catch a glimpse of a pale, wan figure on the +bed and to sense the fact that there were two other men in the room, +when there was a shout from Riley and a spurt of flame from his +revolver. With a cry, the man nearest the bed dropped his arm and a +pistol clattered to the floor—the barrel still singing from the impact +of the policeman's bullet. The second man, realizing that time was +precious, leaped straight toward Maxwell, his fingers reaching for the +agent's throat. With a half laugh Mort clubbed his automatic and brought +the butt down with sickening force on his assailant's head. Then he +swung around and covered the man whom Riley had disarmed.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about him, sir," said the policeman. "His arm'll be numb +half an hour from now. What do you want to do with th' lad in th' bed?"</p> + +<p>"Get him out of here as quickly as we can. We won't bother with these +swine. They have the law on their side, anyway, because we broke in here +without a warrant. I only want Buch."</p> + +<p>When he had propped the young Austrian up in a comfortable chair in the +Federal Building and had given him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> a glass of brandy to strengthen his +nerves—the Lord only knows that they'll have to do in the +future—Maxwell got the whole story and more than he had dared hoped +for. Buch, following his quarrel with Weimar, had been held prisoner in +the house on Thirteenth Street for over a year because, as Maxwell had +figured, the Austrian didn't have the nerve to kill him and didn't dare +let him loose. Barely enough food was allowed to keep him alive, and the +only weakness that his cousin had shown was in permitting the purchase +of one phonograph record a week in order to cheer him up a little.</p> + +<p>"Naturally," said Buch, "I chose the Kreisler records, because he's an +Austrian and a marvelous violinist."</p> + +<p>"Did Weimar ever come to see you?" inquired Maxwell.</p> + +<p>"He came in every now and then to taunt me and to say that he was going +to have me thrown in the river some day soon. That didn't frighten me, +but there were other things that did. He came in last week, for example, +and boasted that he was going to blow up a big canal and I was afraid he +might be caught or killed. That would have meant no more money for the +men who were guarding me and I was too weak to walk even to the window +to call for help...."</p> + +<p>"A big canal!" Maxwell repeated. "He couldn't mean the Panama! No, +that's impossible. I have it! The Welland Canal!" And in an instant he +was calling the Niagara police on the long-distance phone, giving a +detailed description of Weimar and his companions.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"As it turned out," concluded Quinn, reaching for his empty glass, +"Weimar had already been looking over the ground. He was arrested, +however, before the dynamite could be planted, and, thanks to Buch's +evidence, indicted for violation of Section Thirteen of the Penal Code.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thus did a phonograph record and thirty pieces of silver—the thirty +half-dollars that Weimar owed Buch—lead directly to the arrest of one +of the most dangerous spies in the German service. Let's have Mr. +Drigo's Serenade once more and pledge Mort Maxwell's health in ginger +ale—unless you have a still concealed around the house. And if you have +I will be in duty bound to tell Jimmy Reynolds about it—he's the lad +that holds the record for persistency and cleverness in discovering +moonshiners."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> + +<h3>THE SECRET STILL</h3> + + +<p>"July 1, 1919," said Bill Quinn, as he appropriately reached for a +bottle containing a very soft drink, "by no means marked the beginning +of the government's troubles in connection with the illicit manufacture +of liquor.</p> + +<p>"Of course, there's been a whole lot in the papers since the Thirst of +July about people having private stills in their cellars, making drinks +with a kick out of grape juice and a piece of yeast, and all that sort +of thing. One concern in Pittsburgh, I understand, has also noted a +tremendous and absolutely abnormal increase in the demand for its +hot-water heating plants—the copper coils of which make an ideal +substitute for a still—but I doubt very much if there's going to be a +real movement in the direction of the private manufacture of alcoholic +beverages. The Internal Revenue Department is too infernally watchful +and its agents too efficient for much of that to get by.</p> + +<p>"When you get right down to it, there's no section in the country where +the art of making 'licker' flourishes to such an extent as it does in +eastern Tennessee and western North Carolina. Moonshine there is not +only a recognized article of trade, but its manufacture is looked upon +as an inalienable right. It's tough sledding for any revenue officer who +isn't mighty quick on the trigger, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> even then—as Jimmy Reynolds +discovered a few years back—they're likely to get him unless he mixes +brains with his shooting ability."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Reynolds [continued Quinn, easing his injured leg into a more +comfortable position] was as valuable a man as any whose name ever +appeared in the Government Blue Book. He's left the bureau now and +settled down to a life of comparative ease as assistant district +attorney of some middle Western city. I've forgotten which one, but +there was a good reason for his not caring to remain in the East. The +climate west of the Mississippi is far more healthy for Jimmy these +days.</p> + +<p>At the time of the Stiles case Jim was about twenty-nine, straight as an +arrow, and with a bulldog tenacity that just wouldn't permit of his +letting go of a problem until the solution was filed in the official +pigeonholes which answer to the names of archives. It was this trait +which led Chambers, then Commissioner of Internal Revenue, to send for +him, after receipt of a message that two of his best men—<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Douglass'">Douglas</ins> and +Wood, I think their names were—had been brought back to Maymead, +Tennessee, with bullet holes neatly drilled through their hearts.</p> + +<p>"Jim," said the Commissioner, "this case has gone just far enough. It's +one thing for the mountaineers of Tennessee to make moonshine whisky and +defy the laws of the United States. But when they deliberately murder +two of my best men and pin a rudely scribbled note to 'Bewair of this +country' on the front of their shirts, that's going entirely too far. +I'm going to clean out that nest of illicit stills if it takes the rest +of my natural life and every man in the bureau!</p> + +<p>"More than that, I'll demand help from the War Department, if necessary! +By Gad! I'll teach 'em!" and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> the inkwell on the Commissioner's desk +leaped into the air as Chambers's fist registered determination.</p> + +<p>Reynolds reached for a fresh cigar from the supply that always reposed +in the upper drawer of the Commissioner's desk and waited until it was +well lighted before he replied.</p> + +<p>"All well and good, Chief," he commented, "but how would the army help +you any? You could turn fifty thousand men in uniform loose in those +mountains, and the odds are they wouldn't locate the bunch you're after. +Fire isn't the weapon to fight those mountaineers with. They're too +wise. What you need is brains."</p> + +<p>"Possibly you can supply that deficiency," retorted the Commissioner, a +little nettled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't mean that you, personally, needed the brains," laughed +Reynolds. "The pronoun was used figuratively and collectively. At that, +I would like to have a whirl at the case if you've nothing better for me +to do—"</p> + +<p>"There isn't anything better for anyone to do at the present time," +Chambers interrupted. "That's why I sent for you. We know that whisky is +being privately distilled in large quantities somewhere in the mountains +not far from Maymead. Right there our information ends. Our men have +tried all sorts of dodges to land the crowd behind the stills, but the +only thing they've been able to learn is that a man named Stiles is one +of the ruling spirits. His cabin is well up in the mountains and it was +while they were prospecting round that part of the country that Douglas +and Wood were shot. Now what's your idea of handling the case?"</p> + +<p>"The first thing that I want, Chief, is to be allowed to work on this +absolutely alone, and that not a soul, in bureau or out of it is to know +what I'm doing."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Easy enough to arrange that," assented the Commissioner, "but—"</p> + +<p>"There isn't any 'but,'" Reynolds cut in. "You've tried putting a number +of men to work on this and they've failed. Now try letting one handle +it. For the past two years I've had a plan in the back of my head that +I've been waiting the right opportunity to use. So far as I can see it's +foolproof and I'm willing to take all the responsibility in connection +with it."</p> + +<p>"Care to outline it?" inquired Chambers.</p> + +<p>"Not right at the moment," was Reynolds's reply, "because it would seem +too wild and scatterbrained. I don't mind telling you, though, that for +the next six weeks my address will be in care of the warden of the +penitentiary of Morgantown, West Virginia, if you wish to reach me."</p> + +<p>"Morgantown?" echoed the Commissioner. "What in Heaven's name are you +going to do there?"</p> + +<p>"Lay the stage setting for the first act," smiled Jimmy. "Likewise +collect what authors refer to as local color—material that's essential +to what I trust will be the happy ending of this drama—happy, at least, +from the government's point of view. But, while you know that I'm at +Morgantown, I don't want anyone else to know it and I'd much prefer that +you didn't communicate with me there unless it's absolutely necessary."</p> + +<p>"All right, I won't. You're handling the case from now on."</p> + +<p>"Alone?"</p> + +<p>"Entirely—if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Chief, I do wish it. I can promise you one of two things within +the next three months: either you'll have all the evidence you want +about the secret still and the men behind it or—well, you know where to +ship my remains!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>With that and a quick handshake he was gone.</p> + +<p>During the weeks that followed, people repeatedly asked the +Commissioner:</p> + +<p>"What's become of Jimmy Reynolds? Haven't seen him round here for a +month of Sundays."</p> + +<p>But the Commissioner would assume an air of blank ignorance, mutter +something about, "He's out of town somewhere," and rapidly change the +subject.</p> + +<p>About six weeks or so later a buzzard which was flapping its lazy way +across the mountains which divide Tennessee from North Carolina saw, far +below, a strange sight. A man, haggard and forlorn, his face covered +with a half-inch of stubble, his cheeks sunken, his clothing torn by +brambles and bleached by the sun and rain until it was almost impossible +to tell its original texture, stumbled along with his eyes fixed always +on the crest of a hill some distance off. It was as if he were making a +last desperate effort to reach his goal before the sun went down.</p> + +<p>Had the buzzard been so minded, his keen eyes might have noted the fact +that the man's clothes were marked by horizontal stripes, while his head +was covered with hair the same length all over, as if he had been shaved +recently and the unkempt thatch had sprouted during the last ten days.</p> + +<p>Painfully but persistently the man in convict's clothes pressed forward. +When the sun was a little more than halfway across the heavens he +glimpsed a cabin tucked away on the side of a mountain spur not far +away. At the sight he pressed forward with renewed vigor, but distances +are deceptive in that part of the country and it was not until nearly +dark that he managed to reach his destination.</p> + +<p>In fact, the Stiles family was just sitting down to what passes for +supper in that part of the world—fat bacon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> and corn bread, +mostly—when there was the sound of a man's footstep some fifty feet +away.</p> + +<p>Instantly the houn' dog rose from his accustomed place under the table +and crouched, ready to repel invaders. Old Man Stiles—his wife called +him Joe, but to the entire countryside he was just "Old Man +Stiles"—reached for his rifle with a muttered imprecation about +"Rev'nue officers who never let a body be."</p> + +<p>But the mountaineer had hardly risen from his seat when there was a +sound as of a heavy body falling against the door—and then silence.</p> + +<p>Stiles looked inquiringly at his wife and then at Ruth, their adopted +daughter. None of them spoke for an appreciable time, but the hound +continued to whine and finally backed off into a corner.</p> + +<p>"Guess I'll have to see what et is," drawled the master of the cabin, +holding his rifle ready for action.</p> + +<p>Slowly he moved toward the door and cautiously, very cautiously, he +lifted the bolt that secured it. Even if it were a revenue officer, he +argued to himself, his conscience was clear and his premises could stand +the formality of a search because, save for a certain spot known to +himself alone, there was nothing that could be considered incriminating.</p> + +<p>As the door swung back the body of a man fell into the room—a man whose +clothing was tattered and whose features were concealed under a week's +growth of stubbly beard. Right into the cabin he fell, for the door had +supported his body, and, once that support was removed, he lay as one +dead.</p> + +<p>In fact, it wasn't until at least five minutes had elapsed that Stiles +came to the conclusion that the intruder was really alive, after all. +During that time he had worked over him in the rough mountain fashion, +punching and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> pulling and manhandling him in an effort to secure some +sign of life. Finally the newcomer's eyes opened and he made an effort +to sit up.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, stranger," directed Stiles, motioning his wife toward a +closet in the corner of the room. Mrs. Stiles—or 'Ma,' as she was known +in that part of the country—understood the movement. Without a word she +opened the cupboard and took down a flask filled with a clear +golden-yellow liquid. Some of this she poured into a cracked cup on the +table and handed it to her husband.</p> + +<p>"Here," directed the mountaineer, "throw yo' haid back an' drink this. +Et's good fur what ails yer."</p> + +<p>The moment after he had followed instructions the stranger gulped, +gurgled, and gasped as the moonshine whisky burnt its way down his +throat. The man-sized drink, taken on a totally empty stomach, almost +nauseated him. Then it put new life in his veins and he tried to +struggle to his feet.</p> + +<p>Ruth Stiles was beside him in an instant and, with her father's help, +assisted him to a chair at the table.</p> + +<p>"Stranger," said Stiles, stepping aside and eying the intruder +critically, "I don't know who or what you are, but I do know that yo' +look plumb tuckered out. Nobody's goin' hungry in my house, so fall to +an' we'll discuss other matters later."</p> + +<p>Whereupon he laid his rifle in its accustomed place, motioned to his +wife and daughter to resume their places at the table, and dragged up +another chair for himself.</p> + +<p>Beyond a word or two of encouragement to eat all he wanted of the very +plain fare, none of the trio addressed the newcomer during the remainder +of the meal. All three of them had noted the almost-obliterated stripes +that encircled his clothing and their significance was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> unmistakable. +But Stiles himself was far from being convinced. He had heard too much +of the tricks of government agents to be misled by what might prove, +after all, only a clever disguise.</p> + +<p>Therefore, when the womenfolk had cleared away the supper things and the +two men had the room to themselves, the mountaineer offered his guest a +pipeful of tobacco and saw to it that he took a seat before the fire +where the light would play directly upon his features. Then he opened +fire.</p> + +<p>"Stranger," he inquired, "what might yo' name be?"</p> + +<p>"Patterson," said the other. "Jim Patterson."</p> + +<p>"Whar you come from?"</p> + +<p>"Charlestown first an' Morgantown second. Up for twelve years for +manslaughter—railroaded at that," was Patterson's laconic reply.</p> + +<p>"How'd you get away?"</p> + +<p>At that the convict laughed, but there was more of a snarl than humor in +his tone as he answered: "Climbed th' wall when th' guards weren't +lookin'. They took a coupla pot shots at me, but none of them came +within a mile. Then I beat it south, travelin' by night an' hidin' by +day. Stole what I could to eat, but this country ain't overly well +filled with farms. Hadn't had a bite for two days, 'cept some berries, +when I saw your cabin an' came up here."</p> + +<p>Stiles puffed away in silence for a moment. Then he rose, as if to fetch +something from the other side of the room. Once behind Patterson, +however, he reached forward and, seizing the stubble that covered his +face, yanked it as hard as he could.</p> + +<p>"What th'——?" yelled the convict, springing to his feet and +involuntarily raising his clenched hand.</p> + +<p>"Ca'm yo'self, stranger, ca'm yo'self," directed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> mountaineer, with +a half smile. "Jes' wanted to see for myself ef that beard was real, +that's all. Thought you might be a rev'nue agent in disguise."</p> + +<p>"A rev'nue agent?" queried Patterson, and then as if the thought had +just struck him that he was in the heart of the moonshining district, he +added: "That's rich! Me, just out of th' pen an' you think I'm a bull. +That's great. Here"—reaching into the recesses of his frayed +shirt—"here's something that may convince you."</p> + +<p>And he handed over a tattered newspaper, more than a week old, and +pointed to an article on the first page.</p> + +<p>"There, read that!"</p> + +<p>"Ruth does all th' reading for this fam'ly," was Stiles's muttered +rejoinder. "Ruth! Oh, Ruth! Come here a minute an' read somethin' to yo' +pappy!"</p> + +<p>Patterson had not failed to note, during supper, that Ruth Stiles came +close to being a perfect specimen of a mountain flower, rough and +undeveloped, but with more than a trace of real beauty, both in her face +and figure. Standing in front of the fire, with its flickering light +casting a sort of halo around her, she was almost beautiful—despite her +homespun dress and shapeless shoes.</p> + +<p>Without a word the convict handed her the paper and indicated the +article he had pointed out a moment before.</p> + +<p>"Reward offered for convict's arrest," she read. "James Patterson, doing +time for murder, breaks out of Morgantown. Five hundred dollars for +capture. Prisoner scaled wall and escaped in face of guards' fire." Then +followed an account of the escape, the first of its kind in several +years.</p> + +<p>"Even if you can't read," said Patterson, "there's my picture under the +headline—the picture they took for the rogues' gallery," and he pointed +to a fairly distinct photograph which adorned the page.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>Stiles took the paper closer to the fire to secure a better look, +glanced keenly at the convict, and extended his hand.</p> + +<p>"Guess that's right, stranger," he admitted. "You're no rev'nue agent."</p> + +<p>Later in the evening, as she lay awake, thinking about the man who had +shattered the monotony of their mountain life, Ruth Stiles wondered if +Patterson had not given vent to what sounded suspiciously like a sigh of +relief at that moment. But she was too sleepy to give much thought to +it, and, besides, what if he had?...</p> + +<p>In the other half of the cabin, divided from the women's room only by a +curtain of discolored calico, slept Patterson and Stiles—the former +utterly exhausted by his travels, the latter resting with keen hair +trigger consciousness of danger always only a short distance away. +Nothing happened, however, to disturb the peace of the Stiles domicile. +Even the hound slept quietly until the rosy tint of the eastern sky +announced another day.</p> + +<p>After breakfast, at which the fat-back and corn bread were augmented by +a brownish liquid which passed for coffee, Stiles informed his guest +that he "reckoned he'd better stick close to th' house fer a few days," +as there was no telling whether somebody might not be on his trail.</p> + +<p>Patterson agreed that this was the proper course and put in his time +helping with the various chores, incidentally becoming a little better +acquainted with Ruth Stiles. That night he lay awake for several hours, +but nothing broke the stillness save a few indications of animal life +outside the cabin and the labored breathing of the mountaineer in the +bunk below him.</p> + +<p>For three nights nothing occurred. But on the fourth night, Saturday, +supper was served a little earlier than usual and Patterson noted just a +suspicion of something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> almost electrical in the air. He gave no +indication of what he had observed, however, and retired to his bunk in +the usual manner. After an hour or more had elapsed he heard Stiles slip +quietly off his mattress and a moment later there was the guarded +scratch of a match as a lantern was lighted.</p> + +<p>Suspecting what would follow, Patterson closed his eyes and continued +his deep, regular breathing. But he could sense the fact that the +lantern had been swung up to a level with his bunk and he could almost +feel the mountaineer's eyes as Stiles made certain that he was asleep. +Stifling an impulse to snore or do something to convince his host that +he wasn't awake, Patterson lay perfectly still until he heard the door +close. Then he raised himself guardedly on one elbow and attempted to +look through the window beside the bunk. But a freshly applied coat of +whitewash prevented that, so he had to content himself with listening.</p> + +<p>Late in the night—so late that it was almost morning—he heard the +sounds of men conversing in whispers outside the cabin, but he could +catch nothing beyond his own name. Soon Stiles re-entered the room, +slipped into bed, and was asleep instantly.</p> + +<p>So things went for nearly three weeks. The man who had escaped from +prison made himself very useful around the cabin, and, almost against +his will, found that he was falling a victim to the beauty and charm of +the mountain girl.</p> + +<p>"I mustn't do it," he told himself over and over again. "I can't let +myself! It's bad enough to come here and accept the old man's +hospitality, but the girl's a different proposition."</p> + +<p>It was Ruth herself who solved the riddle some three weeks after +Patterson's arrival. They were wandering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> through the woods together, +looking for sassafras roots, when she happened to mention that Stiles +was not her own father.</p> + +<p>"He's only my pappy," she said, "my adopted father. My real father was +killed when I was a little girl. Shot through the head because he had +threatened to tell where a still was hidden. He never did believe in +moonshining. Said it was as bad as stealin' from the government. So +somebody shot him and Ma Stiles took me in, 'cause she said she was +sorry for me even if my pa was crazy."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe that moonshining is right?" asked her companion.</p> + +<p>"Anything my pa believed was the truth," replied the girl, her eyes +flashing. "Everybody round these parts knows that Pappy Stiles helps run +the big still the rev'nue officers been lookin' for the past three +years. Two of 'em were shot not long ago, too—but that don't make it +right. 'Specially when my pa said it was wrong. What you smilin' at?"</p> + +<p>Patterson resisted an inclination to tell her that the smile was one of +relief and replied that he was just watching the antics of a chipmunk a +little way off. But that night he felt a thrill of joy as he lay, +listening as always, in his bunk.</p> + +<p>Things had been breaking rather fast of late. The midnight gatherings +had become more frequent and, convinced that he had nothing to fear from +his guest, Stiles was not as cautious as formerly. He seldom took the +trouble to see that the escaped prisoner was asleep and he had even been +known to leave the door unlatched as he went out into the night.</p> + +<p>That night, for example, was one of the nights that he was +careless—and, as usually happens, he paid dearly for it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>Waiting until Stiles was well out of the house, Patterson slipped +silently out of his bunk in his stocking feet and, inch by inch, +reopened the door. Outside, the moon was shining rather brightly, but, +save for the retreating figure of the mountaineer—outlined by the +lantern he carried—there was nothing else to be seen.</p> + +<p>Very carefully Patterson followed, treading softly so as to avoid even +the chance cracking of a twig. Up the mountainside went Stiles and, some +fifty feet behind him, crouched the convict, his faded garments blending +perfectly with the underbrush. After half a mile or so of following a +rude path, Stiles suddenly disappeared from view—not as if he had +turned a corner, but suddenly, as if the earth had swallowed him.</p> + +<p>After a moment Patterson determined to investigate. When he reached the +spot where he had last seen Stiles he looked around and almost stumbled +against the key to the entire mystery. There in the side of the mountain +was an opening, the entrance to a natural cave, and propped against it +was a large wooden door, completely covered with vines.</p> + +<p>"Not a chance of finding it in the daytime unless you knew where it +was," thought the convict as he slipped silently into the cave. Less +than thirty feet farther was an abrupt turn, and, glancing round this, +Patterson saw what he had been hoping for—a crowd of at least a dozen +mountaineers gathered about a collection of small but extremely +efficient stills. Ranged in rows along the sides of the cave were scores +of kegs, the contents of which were obvious from the surroundings.</p> + +<p>Pausing only long enough to make certain of his bearings, the convict +returned to the cabin and, long before Stiles came back, was sound +asleep.</p> + +<p>It was precisely four weeks from the day when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> buzzard noted the man +on the side of the mountain, when a sheriff's posse from another county, +accompanied by half a dozen revenue officers, rode clattering through +Maymead and on in the direction of the Stiles cabin. Before the +mountaineers had time to gather, the posse had surrounded the hill, +rifles ready for action.</p> + +<p>Stiles himself met them in front of his rude home and, in response to +his challenge as to what they wanted, the sheriff replied that he had +come for a prisoner who had escaped from Morgantown a month or so +before. Stiles was on the verge of declaring that he had never heard of +the man when, to his amazement, Patterson appeared from the woods and +surrendered.</p> + +<p>The instant the convict had gained the shelter of the government guns, +however, a startling change took place. He held a moment's whispered +conversation with one of the revenue officials and the latter slipped +him a spare revolver from his holster. Then—"Hands up!" ordered the +sheriff, and Stiles's hands shot above his head.</p> + +<p>Leaving three men to guard the cabin and keep watch over Old Man Stiles, +whose language was searing the shrubbery, the remainder of the posse +pushed up the mountain, directed by the pseudoconvict. It took them some +time to locate the door to the cave, but, once inside, they found all +the evidence they wanted—evidence not only directly indicative of +moonshining, but the two badges which had belonged to Douglas and Wood +and which the mountaineers had kept as souvenirs of the shooting, thus +unwittingly providing a firm foundation for the government's case in +court.</p> + +<p>The next morning, when Commissioner Chambers reached his office, he +found upon his desk a wire which read:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>Stiles gang rounded up without the firing of a single shot. +Direct evidence of complicity in Woods-Douglas murders. +Secret still is a secret no longer.</p></blockquote> + +<p>The signature to the telegram was "James Reynolds, alias Jim Patterson."</p> + +<p>"Jim Patterson," mused the commissioner. "Where have I heard that +name.... Of course. He's the prisoner that broke out of Morgantown a +couple of months ago! Jimmy sure did lay the local color on thick!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"But," I inquired, as Quinn paused, "don't you consider that rather a +dirty trick on Reynolds's part—worming himself into the confidence of +the mountaineers and then betraying them? Besides, what about the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Dirty trick!" snorted the former Secret Service agent. "Would you think +about ethics if some one had murdered two of the men you work next to in +the office? It was the same thing in this case. Jimmy knew that if he +didn't turn up that gang they'd probably account for a dozen of his +pals—to say nothing of violating the law every day they lived! What +else was there for him to do?</p> + +<p>"The girl? Oh, Reynolds married her. They sometimes do that, even in +real life, you know. As I said, they're living out in the Middle West, +for Ruth declared she never wanted to see a mountain again, and both of +them admitted that it wouldn't be healthy to stick around within walking +distance of Tennessee. That mountain crowd is a bad bunch to get r'iled, +and it must be 'most time for Stiles and his friends to get out of jail.</p> + +<p>"It's a funny thing the way these government cases work out. Here was +one that took nearly three months to solve, and the answer was the +direct result of hard work and careful planning—while the Trenton +taxicab tangle, for example, was just the opposite!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE TAXICAB TANGLE</h3> + + +<p>We'd been sitting on the front porch—Bill Quinn and I—discussing +things in general for about half an hour when the subject of +transportation cropped up and, as a collateral idea, my mind jumped to +taxicabs, for the reason that the former Secret Service operative had +promised to give me the details of a case which he referred to as "The +Trenton Taxicab Tangle."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied, reminiscently, when I reminded him of the +alliterative title and inquired to what it might refer, "that was one of +the branch cases which grew out of the von Ewald chase—you remember +Mary McNilless and the clue of Shelf Forty-five? Well, Dick Walters, the +man who landed von Ewald, wasn't the only government detective working +on that case in New York—not by some forty-five or fifty—and Mary +wasn't the only pretty woman mixed up in it, either. There was that girl +at the Rennoc switchboard....</p> + +<p>"That's another story, though. What you want is the taxicab clue."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>If you remember the incidents which led up to the von Ewald affair +[continued Quinn, as he settled comfortably back in his chair] you will +recall that the German was the slipperiest of slippery customers. When +Walters stumbled on his trail, through the quick wit of Mary McNilless, +there wasn't the slightest indication that there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> was such a man. He was +a myth, a bugaboo—elusive as the buzz of a mosquito around your ear.</p> + +<p>During the months they scoured New York in search for him, a number of +other cases developed. Some of these led to very interesting +conclusions, but the majority, as usual, flivvered into thin air.</p> + +<p>The men at headquarters, the very cream of the government services, +gathered from all parts of the country, were naturally unable to +separate the wheat from the chaff in advance. Night after night they +went out on wild-goose chases and sometimes they spent weeks in +following a promising lead—to find only blue sky and peaceful scenery +at the end of it.</p> + +<p>Alan Whitney, who had put in two or three years rounding up +counterfeiters for the Service, and who had been transferred to the +Postal Inspection Service at the time of those registered mail robberies +in the Middle West—only to be detailed to Secret Service work in +connection with the von Ewald case—was one of the bitterest opponents +of this forced inaction.</p> + +<p>"I don't mind trouble," Whitney would growl, "but I do hate this eternal +strain of racing around every time the bell goes off and then finding +that some bonehead pulled the alarm for the sheer joy of seeing the +engines come down the street. There ought to be a law against +irresponsible people sending in groundless 'tips'—just as there's a law +against scandal or libel or any other information that's not founded on +fact."</p> + +<p>But, just the same, Al would dig into every new clue with as much +interest and energy as the rest of the boys—for there's always the +thrill of thinking that the tip you're working on may be the right one +after all.</p> + +<p>Whitney was in the office one morning when the phone rang and the chief +answered it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," he heard the chief say, "this is the right place—but if your +information is really important I would suggest that you come down and +give it in person. Telephones are not the most reliable instruments in +the world."</p> + +<p>A pause followed and the chief's voice again:</p> + +<p>"Well, of course we are always very glad to receive information that +tends to throw any light on those matters, but I must confess that yours +sounds a little vague and far-fetched. Maybe the people in the taxi +merely wanted to find a quiet place to talk.... They got out and were +away for nearly two hours? Hum! Thanks very much. I'll send one of our +men over to talk to you about it, if you don't mind. What's the +address?"</p> + +<p>A moment or two later, after the chief had replaced the receiver, he +called out to Whitney and with a smile that he could barely conceal told +him to catch the next train to Trenton, where, at a certain address, he +would find a Miss Vera Norton, who possessed—or thought she +possessed—information which would be of value to the government in +running down the people responsible for recent bomb outrages and +munition-plant explosions.</p> + +<p>"What's the idea, Chief?" inquired Al.</p> + +<p>"This young lady—at least her voice sounded young over the phone—says +that she got home late from a party last night. She couldn't sleep +because she was all jazzed up from dancing or something, so she sat near +her window, which looks out upon a vacant lot on the corner. Along about +two o'clock a taxicab came putt-putting up the street, stopped at the +corner, and two men carrying black bags hopped out. The taxicab remained +there until nearly four o'clock—three-forty-eight, Miss Norton's watch +said—and then the two men came back, without the bags, jumped in, and +rolled off. That's all she knows, or, at least, all she told.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When she picked up the paper round eleven o'clock this mornin' the +first thing that caught her eye was the attempt to blow up the powder +plant 'bout two miles from the Norton home. One paragraph of the story +stated that fragments of a black bag had been picked up near the scene +of the explosion, which only wrecked one of the outhouses, and the young +lady leaped to the conclusion that her two night-owls were mixed up in +the affair. So she called up to tip us off and get her name in history. +Better run over and talk to her. There might be something to the +information, after all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there <i>might</i>," muttered Whitney, "but it's getting so nowadays +that if you walk down the street with a purple tie on, when some one +thinks you ought to be wearing a green one, they want you arrested as a +spy. Confound these amateurs, anyhow! I'm a married man, Chief. Why +don't you send Giles or one of the bachelors on this?"</p> + +<p>"For just that reason," was the reply. "Giles or one of the others would +probably be impressed by the Norton's girl's blond hair—it must be +blond from the way she talked—and spend entirely too much time running +the whole thing to earth. Go on over and get back as soon as you can. We +can't afford to overlook anything these days—neither can we afford to +waste too much time on harvesting crops of goat feathers. Beat it!"</p> + +<p>And Whitney, still protesting, made his way to the tube and was lucky +enough to catch a Trenton train just about to pull out of the station.</p> + +<p>Miss Vera Norton, he found, was a blond—and an extremely pretty one, at +that. Moreover, she appeared to have more sense than the chief had given +her credit for. After Whitney had talked to her for a few minutes he +admitted to himself that it was just as well that Giles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> hadn't tackled +the case—he might never have come back to New York, and Trenton isn't a +big enough place for a Secret Service man to hide in safety, even when +lured by a pair of extremely attractive gray-blue eyes.</p> + +<p>Apart from her physical charms, however, Whitney was forced to the +conclusion that what she had seen was too sketchy to form anything that +could be termed a real clue.</p> + +<p>"No," she stated, in reply to a question as to whether she could +identify the men in the taxi, "it was too dark and too far off for me to +do that. The arc light on the corner, however, gave me the impression +that they were of medium height and rather thick set. Both of them were +dressed in dark suits of some kind and each carried a black leather bag. +That's what made me think that maybe they were mixed up in that +explosion last night."</p> + +<p>"What kind of bags were they?"</p> + +<p>"Gladstones, I believe you call them. Those bags that are flat on the +bottom and then slant upward and lock at the top."</p> + +<p>"How long was the taxi there?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know just when it did arrive, for I didn't look at my watch +then, but it left at twelve minutes to four. I was getting mighty +sleepy, but I determined to see how long it would stay in one place, for +it costs money to hire a car by the hour—even one of those +Green-and-White taxis."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was a Green-and-White, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I got the number, too," Miss Norton's voice fairly thrilled +with the enthusiasm of her detective ability. "After the men had gotten +out of the car I remembered that my opera glasses were on the bureau and +I used them to get a look at the machine. I couldn't see anything of the +chauffeur beyond the fact that he was hunched down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> on the front seat, +apparently asleep, and the men came back in such a hurry that I didn't +have time to get a good look at them through the glasses."</p> + +<p>"But the number," Whitney reminded her.</p> + +<p>"I've got it right here," was the reply, as the young lady dug down into +her handbag and drew out a card. "N. Y. four, three, three, five, six, +eight," she read. "I got that when the taxi turned around and headed +back—to New York, I suppose. But what on earth would two men want to +take a taxi from New York all the way to Trenton for? Why didn't they +come on the train?"</p> + +<p>"That, Miss Norton," explained Whitney, "is the point of your story that +makes the whole thing look rather suspicious. I will confess that when +the chief told me what you had said over the phone I didn't place much +faith in it. There might have been a thousand good reasons for men +allowing a local taxi to wait at the corner, but the very fact of its +bearing a New York number makes it a distinctly interesting incident."</p> + +<p>"Then you think that it may be a clue, after all?"</p> + +<p>"It's a clue, all right," replied the operative, "but what it's a clue +to I can't say until we dig farther into the matter. It is probable that +these two men had a date for a poker party or some kind of celebration, +missed the train in New York, and took a taxi over rather than be left +out of the party. But at the same time it's distinctly within the realms +of possibility that the men you saw were implicated in last night's +explosion. It'll take some time to get at the truth of the matter and, +meanwhile, might I ask you to keep this information to yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I shall!" was the reply. "I won't tell a soul, honestly."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<p>After that promise, Al left the Norton house and made his way across +town to where the munitions factory reared its hastily constructed head +against the sky. Row after row of flimsy buildings, roofed with tar +paper and giving no outward evidence of their sinister mission in +life—save for the high barbed-wire fence that inclosed them—formed the +entire plant, for there shells were not made, but loaded, and the +majority of the operations were by hand.</p> + +<p>When halted at the gate, Whitney found that even his badge was of no use +in securing entrance. Evidently made cautious by the events of the +preceding night, the guard refused to admit anyone, and even hesitated +about taking Al's card to the superintendent. The initials "U. S. S. S." +finally secured him admittance and such information as was available.</p> + +<p>This, however, consisted only of the fact that some one had cut the +barbed wire at an unguarded point and had placed a charge of explosive +close to one of the large buildings. The one selected was used +principally as a storehouse. Otherwise, as the superintendent indicated +by an expressive wave of his hand, "it would have been good night to the +whole place."</p> + +<p>"Evidently they didn't use a very heavy charge," he continued, "relying +upon the subsequent explosions from the shells inside to do the damage. +If they'd hit upon any other building there'd be nothing but a hole in +the ground now. As it is, the damage won't run over a few thousand +dollars."</p> + +<p>"Were the papers right in reporting that you picked some fragments of a +black bag not far from the scene of the explosion?" Whitney asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, here they are," and the superintendent produced three pieces of +leather from a drawer in his desk. "Two pieces of the top and what is +evidently a piece of the side."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>Whitney laid them on the desk and examined them carefully for a few +moments. Then:</p> + +<p>"Notice anything funny about these?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"No. What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing in the world, except that the bag must have had a very +peculiar lock."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Here—I'll show you," and Whitney tried to put the two pieces of metal +which formed the lock together. But, inasmuch as both of them were +slotted, they wouldn't join.</p> + +<p>"Damnation!" exclaimed the superintendent. "What do you make of that."</p> + +<p>"That there were two bags instead of one," stated Whitney, calmly. +"Coupled with a little information which I ran into before I came over +here, it begins to look as if we might land the men responsible for this +job before they're many hours older."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later he was on his way back to New York, not to report at +headquarters, but to conduct a few investigations at the headquarters of +the Green-and-White Taxicab Company.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me," he inquired of the manager in charge, "just where +your taxi bearing the license number four, three, three, five, six, +eight was last night?"</p> + +<p>"I can't," said the manager, "but we'll get the chauffeur up here and +find out in short order.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" he called over an office phone. "Who has charge of our cab +bearing license number four, three, three, five, six, eight?... Murphy? +Is he in?... Send him up—I'd like to talk to him."</p> + +<p>A few moments later a beetle-jawed and none too cleanly specimen of the +genus taxi driver swaggered in and didn't even bother to remove his cap +before sitting down.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Murphy," said the Green-and-White manager, "where was your cab last +night?"</p> + +<p>"Well, let's see," commenced the chauffeur. "I took a couple to the +Amsterdam The-ayter in time for th' show an' then picked up a fare on +Broadway an' took him in the Hunnerd-an'-forties some place. Then I +cruised around till the after-theater crowd began to come up an'—an' I +got one more fare for Yonkers. Another long trip later on made it a +pretty good night."</p> + +<p>"Murphy," cut in Whitney, edging forward into the conversation, "where +and at just what hour of the night did those two Germans offer you a +hundred dollars for the use of your car all evening?"</p> + +<p>"They didn't offer me no hunnerd dollars," growled the chauffeur, "they +gave me...." Then he checked himself suddenly and added, in an +undertone, "I don't know nothin' 'bout no Goimans."</p> + +<p>"The hell you don't!" snarled Whitney, edging toward the door. "Back up +against that desk and keep your hands on top of it, or I'll pump holes +clean through you!"</p> + +<p>His right hand was in his coat pocket, the fingers closed around what +was very palpably the butt of an automatic. Murphy could see the outline +of the weapon and obeyed instructions, while Whitney slammed the door +with his left hand.</p> + +<p>"Now look here," he snapped, taking a step nearer to the taxi driver, "I +want the truth and I want it quick! Also, it's none of your business why +I want it! But you better come clean if you know what's good for you. +Out with it! Where did you meet 'em and where did you drive 'em?"</p> + +<p>Realizing that escape was cut off and thoroughly cowed by the display of +force, Murphy told the whole story—or as much of it as he knew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was drivin' down Broadway round Twenty-eig't Street last night, 'bout +ten o'clock," he confessed. "I'd taken that couple to the the-ayter, +just as I told you, an' that man up to Harlem. Then one of these t'ree +guys hailed me...."</p> + +<p>"Three?" interrupted Whitney.</p> + +<p>"That's what I said—t'ree! They said they wanted to borrow my machine +until six o'clock in th' mornin' an' would give me two hunnerd dollars +for it. I told 'em there was nothin' doin' an' they offered me +two-fifty, swearin' that they'd have it back at th' same corner at six +o'clock sharp. Two hunnerd an' fifty bones being a whole lot more than I +could make in a night, I gambled with 'em an' let 'em have th' machine, +makin' sure that I got the coin foist. They drove off, two of 'em +inside, an' I put in th' rest of th' night shootin' pool. When I got to +th' corner of Twenty-eig't at six o'clock this mornin', there wasn't any +sign of 'em—but th' car was there, still hot from the hard ride they +give her. That's all I know—'shelp me Gawd!"</p> + +<p>"Did the men have any bags with them?"</p> + +<p>"Bags? No, not one."</p> + +<p>"What did they look like?"</p> + +<p>"The one that talked with me was 'bout my heig't an' dressed in a dark +suit. He an' th' others had their hats pulled down over their eyes, so's +I couldn't see their faces."</p> + +<p>"Did he talk with a German accent?"</p> + +<p>"He sure did. I couldn't hardly make out what he was sayin'. But his +money talked plain enough."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and it's very likely to talk loud enough to send you to the pen if +you're not careful!" was Whitney's reply. "If you don't want to land +there, keep your mouth shut about this. D'you get me?"</p> + +<p>"I do, boss, I do."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And you've told me all the truth—every bit of it?"</p> + +<p>"Every little bit."</p> + +<p>"All right. Clear out!"</p> + +<p>When Murphy left the room, Whitney turned to the manager and, with a wry +smile, remarked: "Well, we've discovered where the car came from and how +they got it. But that's all. We're really as much in the dark as +before."</p> + +<p>"No," replied the manager, musingly. "Not quite as much. Possibly you +don't know it, but we have a device on every car that leaves this garage +to take care of just such cases as this—to prevent drivers from running +their machines all over town without pulling down the lever and then +holding out the fares on us. Just a minute and I'll show you.</p> + +<p>"Joe," he called, "bring me the record tape of Murphy's machine for last +night and hold his car till you hear from me."</p> + +<p>"This tape," he explained, a few minutes later, "is operated something +along the lines of a seismograph or any other instrument for detecting +change in direction. An inked needle marks these straight lines and +curves all the time the machine is moving, and when it is standing still +it oscillates slightly. By glancing at these tapes we can tell when any +chauffeur is holding out on us, for it forms a clear record—not only of +the distance the machine has traveled, but of the route it followed."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't the speedometer give you the distance?" asked Whitney.</p> + +<p>"Theoretically, yes. But it's a very simple matter to disconnect a +speedometer, while this record is kept in a locked box and not one +driver in ten even knows it's there. Now, let's see what Murphy's record +tape tells us....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, here's the trip to the theater around eight-thirty. See the sharp +turn from Fifth Avenue into Forty-second Street, the momentary stop in +front of the Amsterdam, and the complete sweep as he turned around to +get back to Broadway. Then there's the journey up to the Bronx or Harlem +or wherever he went, another complete turn and an uninterrupted trip +back down on Broadway."</p> + +<p>"Then this," cut in Whitney, unable to keep the excitement out of his +voice, "is where he stopped to speak to the Germans?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely," agreed the other, "and, as you'll note, that stop was +evidently longer than either of the other two. They paid their fares, +while Murphy's friends had to be relieved of two hundred and fifty +dollars."</p> + +<p>"From there on is what I'm interested in," announced Whitney. "What does +the tape say?"</p> + +<p>"It doesn't <i>say</i> anything," admitted the manager, with a smile. "But it +<i>indicates</i> a whole lot. In fact, it blazes a blood-red trail that you +ought to be able to follow with very little difficulty. See, when the +machine started it kept on down Broadway—in fact, there's no sign of a +turn for several blocks."</p> + +<p>"How many?"</p> + +<p>"That we can't tell—now. But we can figure it up very accurately later. +The machine then turned to the right and went west for a short distance +only—stopped for a few moments—and then went on, evidently toward the +ferry, for here's a delay to get on board, here's a wavy line evidently +made by the motion of the boat when the hand ought to have been +practically at rest, and here's where they picked up the trip to +Trenton. Evidently they didn't have to stop until they got there, +because we have yards of tape before we reach a stop point, and then the +paper is worn completely through by the action of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> the needle in +oscillating, indicative of a long period of inaction. The return trip is +just as plain."</p> + +<p>"But," Whitney objected, "the whole thing hinges on where they went +before going to Trenton. Murphy said they didn't have any bags, so they +must have gone home or to some rendezvous to collect them. How are we +going to find the corner where the machine turned?"</p> + +<p>"By taking Murphy's car and driving it very carefully south on Broadway +until the tape indicates precisely the distance marked on this one—the +place where the turn was made. Then, driving down that street, the +second distance shown on the tape will give you approximately the house +you're looking for!"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord," exclaimed Whitney, "that's applying science to it! Sherlock +Holmes wasn't so smart, after all!"</p> + +<p>Al and the manager agreed that there was too much traffic on Broadway in +the daytime or early evening to attempt the experiment, but shortly +after midnight, belated pedestrians might have wondered why a +Green-and-White taxicab containing two men proceeded down Broadway at a +snail's pace, while every now and then it stopped and one of the men got +out to examine something inside.</p> + +<p>"I think this is the corner," whispered the garage manager to Whitney, +when they reached Eighth Street, "but to be sure, we'll go back and try +it over again, driving at a normal pace. It's lucky that this is a new +instrument and therefore very accurate."</p> + +<p>The second trial produced the same result as the first—the place they +sought lay a few blocks west of Broadway, on Eighth.</p> + +<p>Before they tried to find out the precise location of the house, +Whitney phoned to headquarters and requested loan of a score of men to +assist him in the contemplated raid.</p> + +<p>"Tell 'em to have their guns handy," he ordered, "because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> we may have +to surround the block and search every house."</p> + +<p>But the taxi tape rendered that unnecessary. It indicated any one of +three adjoining houses on the north side of the street, because, as the +manager pointed out, the machine had not turned round again until it +struck a north-and-south thoroughfare, hence the houses must be on the +north side.</p> + +<p>By this time the reserves were on hand and, upon instructions from +Whitney, spread out in a fan-shaped formation, completely surrounding +the houses, front and rear. At a blast from a police whistle they +mounted the steps and, not waiting for the doors to be opened, went +through them shoulders first.</p> + +<p>It was Whitney, who had elected to assist in the search of the center +house, who captured his prey in a third-floor bedroom.</p> + +<p>Before the Germans knew what was happening Al was in the room, his +flashlight playing over the floor and table in a hasty search for +incriminating evidence. It didn't take long to find it, either. In one +corner, only partly concealed by a newspaper whose flaring headlines +referred to the explosion of the night before, was a collection of bombs +which, according to later expert testimony was sufficient to blow a +good-sized hole in the city of New York.</p> + +<p>That was all they discovered at the time, but a judicious use of the +third degree—coupled with promises of leniency—induced one of the +prisoners to loosen up the next day and he told the whole +story—precisely as the taxi tape and Vera Norton had told it. The only +missing ingredient was the power behind the plot—the mysterious "No. +859"—whom Dick Walters later captured because of the clue on Shelf +forty-five.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"So you see," commented Quinn as he finished, "the younger Pitt wasn't +so far wrong when he cynically remarked that 'there is a Providence that +watches over children, imbeciles, and the United States.' In this case +the principal clues were a book from the Public Library, the chance +observations of a girl who couldn't sleep and a piece of white paper +with some red markings on it.</p> + +<p>"At that, though, it's not the first time that German agents have gotten +into trouble over a scrap of paper."</p> + +<p>"What happened to Vera Norton?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Beyond a little personal glory, not a thing in the world," replied +Quinn. "Didn't I tell you that Al was married? You're always looking for +romance, even in everyday life. Besides, if he had been a bachelor, +Whitney was too busy trying to round up the other loose ends of the +Ewald case. 'Number eight fifty-nine' hadn't been captured then, you +remember.</p> + +<p>"Give me a match—my pipe's gone out. No, I can't smoke it here; it's +too late. But speaking of small clues that lead to big things, some day +soon I'll tell you the story of how a match—one just like this, for all +I know—led to the uncovering of one of the most difficult smuggling +cases that the Customs Service ever tried to solve."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> + +<h3>A MATCH FOR THE GOVERNMENT</h3> + + +<p>"I wonder how long it will take," mused Bill Quinn, as he tossed aside a +copy of his favorite fictional monthly, "to remove the ethical +restrictions which the war placed upon novels and short stories? Did you +ever notice the changing style in villains, for example? A decade or so +ago it was all the rage to have a Japanese do the dirty work—for then +we were taking the 'yellow peril' rather seriously and it was reflected +in our reading matter. The tall, well-dressed Russian, with a sinister +glitter in his black eyes, next stepped upon the scene, to be followed +by the villain whose swarthy complexion gave a hint of his Latin +ancestry.</p> + +<p>"For the past few years, of course, every real villain has had to have +at least a touch of Teutonic blood to account for the various +treacheries which he tackles. I don't recall a single novel—or a short +story, either—that has had an English or French villain who is foiled +in the last few pages. I suppose you'd call it the <i>entente cordiale</i> of +the novelists, a sort of concerted attempt by the writing clan to do +their bit against the Hun. And mighty good propaganda it was, too....</p> + +<p>"But, unfortunately, the detective of real life can't always tell by +determining a man's nationality whether he's going to turn out to be a +crook or a hero. When you come right down to it, every country has about +the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> proportion of each and it's only by the closest observation +that one can arrive at a definite and fact-supported conclusion.</p> + +<p>"Details—trifles unnoticed in themselves—play a far larger part in the +final dénouement than any preconceived ideas or fanciful theories. There +was the case of Ezra Marks and the Dillingham diamonds, for example...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Ezra [continued the former Secret Service operative, when he had eased +his game leg into a position where it no longer gave him active trouble] +was all that the name implied. Born in Vermont, of a highly puritanical +family, he had been named for his paternal grandfather and probably also +for some character from the Old Testament. I'm not awfully strong on +that Biblical stuff myself.</p> + +<p>It wasn't long after he grew up, however, that life on the farm began to +pall. He found a copy of the life of Alan Pinkerton somewhere and read +it through until he knew it from cover to cover. As was only natural in +a boy of his age, he determined to become a great detective, and drifted +down to Boston with that object in view. But, once in the city, he found +that "detecting" was a little more difficult than he had imagined, and +finally agreed to compromise by accepting a very minor position in the +Police Department. Luckily, his beat lay along the water front and he +got tangled up in two or three smuggling cases which he managed to +unravel in fine shape, and, in this way, attracted the attention of the +Customs Branch of the Treasury Department, which is always on the +lookout for new timber. It's a hard life, you know, and one which +doesn't constitute a good risk for an insurance company. So there are +always gaps to be filled—and Ezra plugged up one of them very nicely.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<p>As might have been expected, the New Englander was hardly ever addressed +by his full name. "E. Z." was the title they coined for him, and "E. Z." +he was from that time on—at least to everyone in the Service. The +people on the other side of the fence, however, the men and women who +look upon the United States government as a joke and its laws as hurdles +over which they can jump whenever they wish—found that this Mark was +far from an easy one. He it was who handled the Wang Foo opium case in +San Diego in nineteen eleven. He nailed the gun runners at El Paso when +half a dozen other men had fallen down on the assignment, and there were +at least three Canadian cases which bore the imprint of his latent +genius on the finished reports.</p> + +<p>His particular kind of genius was distinctly out of the ordinary, too. +He wasn't flashy and he was far from a hard worker. He just stuck around +and watched everything worth watching until he located the tip he +wanted. Then he went to it—and the case was finished!</p> + +<p>The chap who stated that "genius is the capacity for infinite attention +to details" had Ezra sized up to a T. And it was one of these +details—probably the most trifling one of all—that led to his most +startling success.</p> + +<p>Back in the spring of nineteen twelve the European agents of the +Treasury Department reported to Washington that a collection of uncut +diamonds, most of them rather large, had been sold to the German +representative of a firm in Rotterdam. From certain tips which they +picked up, however, the men abroad were of the opinion that the stones +were destined for the United States and advised that all German boats be +carefully watched, because the Dillingham diamonds—as the collection +was known—had been last heard of en route to Hamburg and it was to be +expected that they would clear from there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>The cablegram didn't cause any wild excitement in the Treasury +Department. European agents have a habit of trying to stir up trouble in +order to make it appear that they are earning their money and then they +claim that the people over here are not always alert enough to follow +their tips. It's the old game of passing the buck. You have to expect it +in any business.</p> + +<p>But, as events turned out, the men on the other side were dead right.</p> + +<p>Almost before Washington had time officially to digest the cable and to +mail out the stereotyped warnings based upon it, a report filtered in +from Wheeling, West Virginia, that one of the newly made coal +millionaires in that section had invested in some uncut diamonds as +large as the end of your thumb. The report came in merely as a routine +statement, but it set the customs authorities to thinking.</p> + +<p>Uncut stones, you know, are hard to locate, either when they are being +brought in or after they actually arrive. Their color is dull and +slatelike and there is little to distinguish them from other and far +less valuable pebbles. Of course, there might not be the slightest +connection in the world between the Wheeling diamonds and those of the +Dillingham collection—but then, on the other hand, there might....</p> + +<p>Hence, it behooved the customs people to put on a little more speed and +to watch the incoming steamers just as carefully as they knew how.</p> + +<p>Some weeks passed and the department had sunk back into a state of +comfortable ease—broken only occasionally by a minor case or two—when +a wire arrived one morning stating that two uncut diamonds had appeared +in New York under conditions which appeared distinctly suspicious. The +owner had offered them at a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> price 'way under the market figure, and +then, rather than reply to one or two questions relative to the history +of the stones, had disappeared. There was no record of the theft of any +diamonds answering to the description of those seen in Maiden Lane, and +the police force inquired if Washington thought they could have been +smuggled.</p> + +<p>"Of course they could," snorted the chief. "But there's nothing to prove +it. Until we get our hands upon them and a detailed description of the +Dillingham stones, it's impossible to tell."</p> + +<p>So he cabled abroad for an accurate list of the diamonds which had been +sold a couple of months earlier, with special instructions to include +any identifying marks, as it was essential to spot the stones before a +case could be built up in court.</p> + +<p>The following Tuesday a long dispatch from Rotterdam reached the +department, stating, among other things, that one of the Dillingham +diamonds could be distinguished by a heart-shaped flaw located just +below the surface. That same afternoon came another wire from New York +to the effect that two rough stones, answering to the description of the +ones alluded to in a previous message, had turned up in the jewelry +district after passing through half a dozen underground channels.</p> + +<p>"Has one of the diamonds a heart-shaped flaw in it?" the chief inquired +by wire.</p> + +<p>"It has," came back the response. "How did you know it?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't," muttered the head of the Customs Service, "but I took a +chance. The odds were twenty to one against me, but I've seen these long +shots win before. Now," ringing for Mahoney, his assistant, "we'll see +what can be done to keep the rest of that collection from drifting +in—if it hasn't already arrived."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where's Marks located now?" the chief inquired when Mahoney entered.</p> + +<p>"Somewhere in the vicinity of Buffalo, I believe. He's working on that +Chesbro case, the one in connection with—"</p> + +<p>"I know," cut in the chief. "But that's pin money compared with this +matter of the Dillingham diamonds. Thousands of dollars are at stake +here, against hundreds there. Besides, if this thing ever leaks out to +the papers we'll never hear the last of it. The New York office isn't in +any too strong as it is. Wire Marks to drop the trail of those silk +hounds and beat it to New York as fast as he can. He'll find real work +awaiting him there—something that ought to prove a test of the +reputation he's built up on the other three borders. Hurry it up!"</p> + +<p>"E. Z." found the message awaiting him when he returned to his hotel that +night, and without the slightest symptom of a grouch grabbed the next +train for New York. As he told me later, he didn't mind in the least +dropping the silk matter, because he had put in the better part of a +month on it and didn't seem any closer than when he started.</p> + +<p>It took Ezra less than five minutes to get all the dope the New York +office had on the case—and it took him nearly six months to solve it.</p> + +<p>"The two diamonds in Wheeling and the two that turned up here are the +only ones we know about," said the man in charge of the New York office. +"The original Dillingham collection contained twenty-one rough +stones—but whether the other seventeen have already been brought in or +whether the people who are handling them have shipped them elsewhere is +wholly problematical. The chief learned about the heart-shaped flaw from +our man at Rotterdam, so that identifies one of the stones.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> But at the +same time it doesn't help us in the least—for we can't handle the case +from this end."</p> + +<p>"Same rules as on the Coast, eh?" inquired Marks.</p> + +<p>"Precisely. You've got to tackle the other end of the game. No rummaging +around here, trying to pick up the trail that ends with the stone in +Maiden Lane. As you know, this bunch is pretty well organized, wheels +within wheels and fences on fences. You get something on one of them and +the rest of the crowd will perjure themselves black in the face to get +him off, with the result that your case will be laughed out of court and +the man you're really after—the chap who's running the stones under +your nose—is a thousand miles away with a grin on his face. You've got +to land him first and the others later, if the chief wants them. The +chances are, though, that he'll be well satisfied to have the goods on +the crook that's doing the main part of the work."</p> + +<p>"Well," drawled Marks, "I trust he gets his satisfaction. Got any ideas +on the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nary an idea. The stones were sold abroad and presumably they were +headed for Hamburg—which would appear to point to a German boat. Four +of them, supposedly—one of them, certainly—turned up here without +passing through the office or paying the customary duty. Now go to it!"</p> + +<p>When Marks got back to his hotel and started to think the problem over, +he had to admit that there wasn't very much to "go to." It was the +thinnest case he had ever tackled—a perfect circle of a problem, +without the slightest sign of a beginning, save the one which was +barred.</p> + +<p>Anxious as he was to make good, he had to concede that the department's +policy of working from the other end of the case was the right course to +follow. He had heard of too many arrests that fell flat, too many weary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +weeks of work that went for nothing—because the evidence was +insufficient—not to realize the justice of the regulations that +appeared to hamper him.</p> + +<p>"No," he thought, as he half dreamed over a pipe-load of tobacco, "the +case seems to be impregnable. But there must be some way to jimmy into +it if you try long enough."</p> + +<p>His first move was the fairly obvious one of searching the newspaper +files to discover just what ships had docked during the ten days +previous to the appearance of the stones in Wheeling. But this led +nowhere, because that week had been a very busy one in maritime circles. +The <i>Celtic</i>, the <i>Mauretania</i>, the <i>Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse</i>, the +<i>Kronprinzessin Cecelie</i>, the <i>Deutschland</i> and a host of other smaller +vessels had landed within that time.</p> + +<p>Just as a check upon his observations, he examined the records for the +week preceding the first appearance of the diamonds in New York. Here +again he ran into a snag, but one which enabled him to eliminate at +least half of the vessels he had considered before. However, there still +remained a sufficient number to make it impossible to watch all of them +or even to fix upon two or three which appeared more suspicious than the +others.</p> + +<p>The information from abroad pointed to the fact that a German boat was +carrying the diamonds, but, Marks figured, there was nothing in the +world to prevent the stones from being taken into England or France or +Italy and reshipped from there. They had turned up in the United States, +so why couldn't they have been slipped through the customs of other +countries just as easily?</p> + +<p>The one point about the whole matter that appeared significant to him +was that two stones had been reported in each case—a pair in Wheeling +and another pair in New York. This evidence would be translated either +to mean<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> that the smugglers preferred to offer the diamonds in small +lots, so as not to center suspicion too sharply in their movements, or +that the space which they used to conceal the stones was extremely +limited.</p> + +<p>Marks inclined to the latter theory, because two stones, rather than +one, had been offered in each instance. If the whole lot had been run +in, he argued, the men responsible would market them singly, rather than +in pairs. This would not detract in the slightest from the value of the +stones, as it isn't easy to match rough diamonds and thus increase their +market value.</p> + +<p>Having settled this matter to his own satisfaction and being convinced +that, as not more than two stones were being run in at one time, it +would take at least eight more trips to import the entire shipment, +"E. Z." settled down to a part of the government detective's work which +is the hardest and the most necessary in his life—that which can best +be characterized by the phrase "watchful waiting."</p> + +<p>For weeks at a time he haunted the docks and wharves along the New York +water front. His tall, angular figure became a familiar sight at every +landing place and his eyes roamed restlessly over the crowds that came +down the gangplank. In a number of instances he personally directed the +searching of bags and baggage which appeared to be suspicious. Save for +locating a few bolts of valuable lace and an oil painting concealed in +the handle of a walking stick which was patently hollow, he failed to +turn up a thing.</p> + +<p>The only ray of hope that he could glimpse was the fact that, since he +had been assigned to the case, four more stones had been reported—again +in pairs. This proved that his former reasoning had been correct and +also that the smugglers evidently intended to bring in all of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +twenty-one stones, two at a time. But when he came to catalog the hiding +places which might be used to conceal two articles of the size of the +stones already spotted, he was stumped. The list included a walking +stick, the heels of a pair of women's shoes, two dummy pieces of candy +concealed in a box of real confections, a box of talcum, a bag of +marbles, the handle of an umbrella, or any one of a number of other +trinkets which travelers carry as a matter of course or bring home as +curios or gifts.</p> + +<p>Finally, after two solid months of unproductive work, he boarded the +midnight train for Washington and strolled into the chief's office the +following morning, to lay his cards on the table.</p> + +<p>"Frankly," he admitted, "I haven't accomplished a thing. I'm as far from +breaking into the circle as I was at the beginning, and, so far as I can +see, there isn't any hope of doing it for some time to come."</p> + +<p>"Well," inquired the chief, "do you want to be relieved of the case or +do you want me to drop the matter entirely—to confess that the Customs +Service has been licked by a single clever smuggler?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all!" and Marks's tone indicated that such a thought had never +entered his head. "I want the Service to stick with the case and I want +to continue to handle it. But I do want a definite assurance of time."</p> + +<p>"How much time?"</p> + +<p>"That I can't say. The only lead I've located—and that isn't sufficient +to be dignified by the term 'clue'—will take weeks and probably months +to run to earth. I don't see another earthly trail to follow, but I +would like to have time to see whether this one leads anywhere."</p> + +<p>"All right," agreed the chief, fully realizing what "E. Z." was up +against and not being hurried by any pressure from the outside—for the +case had been carefully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> kept out of the newspapers—"this is September. +Suppose we say the first of the year? How does that suit you?"</p> + +<p>"Fair enough, if that's the best you can do."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it is," was the comment from across the desk, "because +that's all the case is worth to us. Your time is valuable and we can't +afford to spend a year on any case—unless it's something as big as the +sugar frauds. Stick with it until New Year's, and if nothing new +develops before then we'll have to admit we're licked and turn you loose +on something else."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Chief," said Marks, getting up from his chair. "You can depend +upon my doing everything possible in the next three months to locate the +leak and I surely appreciate your kindness in not delivering an +ultimatum that you want the smuggler or my job. But then I guess you +know that I couldn't work any harder than I'm going to, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Possibly," agreed the head of the Service, "and then, again, it may be +because I have confidence that you'll turn the trick within the year. +Want any help from this end?"</p> + +<p>"No, thanks. This looks like a one-man game and it ought not to take +more than one man to finish it. A whole bunch of people always clutter +up the place and get you tangled in their pet theories and personal +ideas. What I would like, though, is to be kept in close touch with any +further developments concerning stones that appear later on—where they +are located—their exact weight and diameter, and any other facts that +might indicate a possible hiding place."</p> + +<p>"You'll get that, all right," promised the chief. "And I trust that +you'll develop a red-hot trail of your own before January first."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + +<p>With that Marks shook hands and started back to New York, fairly well +pleased with the results of his trip, but totally disgusted with the +lack of progress which he had made since leaving Buffalo.</p> + +<p>Early in October a message from Washington informed him that a couple of +uncut diamonds had turned up in Cincinnati, stones which answered to the +description of a pair in the Dillingham collection.</p> + +<p>Around the 10th of November another pair was heard from in Boston, and +anyone who was familiar with Marks and his methods would have noted a +tightening of the muscles around his mouth and a narrowing of his eyes +which always indicated that he was nearing the solution of a difficulty.</p> + +<p>After receiving the November message he stopped haunting the wharves and +commenced to frequent the steamship offices of the Hamburg-American, +North German Lloyd and Llanarch lines. The latter, as you probably know, +is operated by Welsh and British capital and runs a few small boats +carrying passengers who would ordinarily travel second class, together +with a considerable amount of freight.</p> + +<p>When the first day of December dawned, Marks drew a deep-red circle +around the name of the month on his calendar and emitted a prayerful +oath, to the effect he'd "be good and eternally damned if that month +didn't contain an unexpected Christmas present for a certain person." He +made no pretense of knowing who the person was—but he did feel that he +was considerably closer to his prey than he had been five months before.</p> + +<p>Fate, as some one has already remarked, only deals a man a certain +number of poor hands before his luck changes. Sometimes it gets worse, +but, on the average, it improves. In Ezra Marks's case Fate took the +form of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> storm at sea, one of those winter hurricanes that sweep +across the Atlantic and play havoc with shipping.</p> + +<p>Ezra was patiently waiting for one of three boats. Which one, he didn't +know—but by the process of elimination he had figured to a mathematical +certainty that one of them ought to carry two uncut diamonds which were +destined never to visit the customs office. Little by little, through +the months that had passed, he had weeded out the ships which failed to +make port at the time the diamonds arrived—calculating the time by the +dates on which the stones appeared elsewhere—and there were only three +ships left. One of them was a North German Lloyder, the second belonged +to the Hamburg-American fleet, and the third possessed an +unpronounceable Welsh name and flew the pennant of the Llanarch line.</p> + +<p>As it happened, the two German ships ran into the teeth of the gale and +were delayed three days in their trip, while the Welsh boat missed the +storm entirely and docked on time.</p> + +<p>Two days later came a message from Washington to the effect that two +diamonds, uncut, had been offered for sale in Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>"Have to have one more month," replied Marks. "Imperative! Can +practically guarantee success by fifteenth of January"—for that was the +date on which the Welsh ship was due to return.</p> + +<p>"Extension granted," came the word from Washington. "Rely on you to make +good. Can't follow case any longer than a month under any +circumstances."</p> + +<p>Marks grinned when he got that message. The trap was set, and, unless +something unforeseen occurred, "E. Z." felt that the man and the method +would both be in the open before long.</p> + +<p>When the Welsh ship was reported off quarantine in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> January, Marks +bundled himself into a big fur coat and went down the bay in one of the +government boats, leaving instructions that, the moment the ship docked, +she was to be searched from stem to stern.</p> + +<p>"Don't overlook as much as a pill box or a rat hole," he warned his +assistants, and more than a score of men saw to it that his instructions +were carried out to the letter.</p> + +<p>Beyond exhibiting his credentials, Marks made no effort to explain why +the ship was under suspicion. He watched the deck closely to prevent the +crew from throwing packages overboard, and as soon as they reached dock +he requested all officers to join him in one of the big rooms belonging +to the Customs Service. There he explained his reasons for believing +that some one on board was guilty of defrauding the government out of +duty on a number of uncut diamonds.</p> + +<p>"What's more," he concluded, at the end of an address which was +purposely lengthy in order to give his men time to search the ship, "I +am willing to stake my position against the fact that two more diamonds +are on board the ship at this moment!"</p> + +<p>Luckily, no one took him up—for he was wrong.</p> + +<p>The captain, pompous and self-assertive, preferred to rise and rant +against the "infernal injustice of this high-handed method."</p> + +<p>Marks settled back to listen in silence and his fingers strayed to the +side pocket of his coat where his pet pipe reposed. His mind strayed to +the thought of how his men were getting along on the ship, and he +absent-mindedly packed the pipe and struck a match to light it.</p> + +<p>It was then that his eye fell upon the man seated beside him—Halley, +the British first mate of the steamer. He had seen him sitting there +before, but had paid little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> attention to him. Now he became aware of +the fact that the mate was smoking a huge, deep-bowled meerschaum pipe. +At least, it had been in his mouth ever since he entered, ready to be +smoked, but unlighted.</p> + +<p>Almost without thinking about it, Marks leaned forward and presented the +lighted match, holding it above the mate's pipe.</p> + +<p>"Light?" he inquired, in a matter-of-fact tone.</p> + +<p>To his amazement, the other started back as if he had been struck, and +then, recovering himself, muttered: "No, thanks. I'm not smoking."</p> + +<p>"Not smoking?" was the thought that flashed through Marks's head, "then +why—"</p> + +<p>But the solution of the matter flashed upon him almost instantly. Before +the mate had time to move, Marks's hand snapped forward and seized the +pipe. With the same movement he turned it upside down and rapped the +bowl upon the table. Out fell a fair amount of tobacco, followed by two +slate-colored pebbles which rolled across the table under the very eyes +of the captain!</p> + +<p>"I guess that's all the evidence we need!" Marks declared, with a laugh +of relief. "You needn't worry about informing your consul and entering a +protest, Captain Williams. I'll take charge of your mate and these +stones and you can clear when you wish."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> + +<h3>THE GIRL AT THE SWITCHBOARD</h3> + + +<p>"When you come right down to it," mused Bill Quinn, "women came as near +to winning the late but unlamented war as did any other single factor.</p> + +<p>"The Food Administration placarded their statement that 'Food Will Win +the War' broadcast throughout the country, and that was followed by a +whole flock of other claimants, particularly after the armistice was +signed. But there were really only two elements that played a leading +role in the final victory—men and guns. And women backed these to the +limit of their powerful ability—saving food, buying bonds, doing extra +work, wearing a smile when their hearts were torn, and going 'way out of +their usual sphere in hundreds of cases—and making good in practically +every one of them.</p> + +<p>"So far as we know, the Allied side presented no analogy to Mollie +Pitcher or the other heroines of past conflicts, for war has made such +forward steps that personal heroism on the part of women is almost +impossible. Of course, we had Botchkareva and her 'Regiment of Death,' +not to mention Edith Cavell, but the list is not a long one.</p> + +<p>"When it is finally completed, however, there are a few names which the +public hasn't yet heard which will stand well toward the front. For +example, there was Virginia Lang—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Was she the girl at the switchboard that you mentioned in connection +with the von Ewald case?" I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"That's the one," said Quinn, "and, what's more, she played a leading +role in that melodrama, a play in which they didn't use property guns or +cartridges."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Miss Lang [continued Quinn] was one of the few women I ever heard of +that practically solved a Secret Service case "on her own." Of course, +in the past, the different governmental detective services have found it +to their advantage to go outside the male sex for assistance.</p> + +<p>There have been instances where women in the employ of the Treasury +Department rendered valuable service in trailing smugglers—the matter +of the Deauville diamonds is a case in point—and even the Secret +Service hasn't been above using women to assist in running +counterfeiters to earth, while the archives of the State Department +would reveal more than one interesting record of feminine co-operation +in connection with underground diplomacy.</p> + +<p>But in all these cases the women were employed to handle the work and +they were only doing what they were paid for, while Virginia Lang—</p> + +<p>Well, in the first place, she was one of the girls in charge of the +switchboard at the Rennoc in New York. You know the place—that big +apartment hotel on Riverside Drive where the lobby is only a shade less +imposing than the bell-boys and it costs you a month's salary to speak +to the superintendent. They never have janitors in a place like that.</p> + +<p>Virginia herself—I came to know her fairly well in the winter of +nineteen seventeen, after Dave Carroll had gone to the front—was well +qualified by nature to be the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> heroine of any story. Rather above the +average in size, she had luckily taken advantage of her physique to +round out her strength with a gymnasium course. But in spite of being a +big woman, she had the charm and personality which are more often found +in those less tall. When you couple this with a head of wonderful hair, +a practically perfect figure, eyes into which a man could look and, +looking, lose himself, lips which would have caused a lip stick to blush +and—Oh, what's the use? Words only caricature a beautiful woman, and, +besides, if you haven't gotten the effect already, there's nothing that +I could tell you that would help any.</p> + +<p>In the spring of nineteen sixteen, when the von Ewald chase was at its +height, Miss Lang was employed at the Rennoc switchboard and it speaks +well for her character when I can tell you that not one of the bachelor +tenants ever tried a second time to put anything over. Virginia's eyes +could snap when they wanted to and Virginia's lips could frame a cutting +retort as readily as a pleasant phrase.</p> + +<p>In a place like the Rennoc, run as an apartment hotel, the guests change +quite frequently, and it was some task to keep track of all of them, +particularly when there were three girls working in the daytime, though +only one was on at night. They took it by turns—each one working one +week in four at night and the other three holding down the job from +eight to six. So, as it happened, Virginia did not see Dave Carroll +until he had been there nearly a month. He blew in from Washington early +one evening and straightway absented himself from the hotel until +sometime around seven the following morning, following the schedule +right through, every night.</p> + +<p>Did you ever know Carroll? He and I worked together on the Farron case +out in St. Louis, the one where a bookmaker<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> at the races tipped us off +to the biggest counterfeiting scheme ever attempted in this country, and +after that he took part in a number of other affairs, including the one +which prevented the Haitian revolution in nineteen thirteen.</p> + +<p>Dave wasn't what you would call good-looking, though he did have a way +with women. The first night that he came downstairs—after a good day's +sleep—and spotted Virginia Lang on the switchboard, he could have been +pardoned for wandering over and trying to engage her in a conversation. +But the only rise he got was from her eyebrows. They went up in that +"I-am-sure-I-have-never-met-you" manner which is guaranteed to be cold +water to the most ardent male, and the only reply she vouchsafed was +"What number did you wish?"</p> + +<p>"You appear to have mine," Dave laughed, and then asked for Rector 2800, +the private branch which connected with the Service headquarters.</p> + +<p>When he came out of the booth he was careful to confine himself to +"Thank you" and the payment of his toll. But there was something about +him that made Virginia Lang feel he was "different"—a word which, with +women, may mean anything—or nothing. Then she returned to the reading +of her detective story, a type of literature to which she was much +addicted.</p> + +<p>Carroll, as you have probably surmised, was one of the more than +twoscore Government operatives sent to New York to work on the von Ewald +case. His was a night shift, with roving orders to wander round the +section in the neighborhood of Columbus Circle and stand ready to get +anywhere in the upper section of the city in a hurry in case anything +broke. But, beyond reporting to headquarters regularly every hour, the +assignment was not exactly eventful.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>The only thing that was known about von Ewald at that time was that a +person using such a name—or alias—was in charge of the German +intrigues against American neutrality. Already nearly a score of bomb +outrages, attempts to destroy shipping, plots against munition plants, +and the like had been laid at his door, but the elusive Hun had yet to +be spotted. Indeed, there were many men in the Service who doubted the +existence of such a person, and of these Carroll was one.</p> + +<p>But he shrugged his shoulders and stoically determined to bear the +monotony of strolling along Broadway and up, past the Plaza, to Fifth +Avenue and back again every night—a program which was varied only by an +occasional séance at Reisenweber's or Pabst's, for that was in the days +before the one-half of one per cent represented the apotheosis of liquid +refreshment.</p> + +<p>It was while he was walking silently along Fifty-ninth Street, on the +north side, close to the Park, a few nights after his brush with +Virginia Lang, that Carroll caught the first definite information about +the case that anyone had obtained.</p> + +<p>He hadn't noted the men until he was almost upon them, for the night was +dark and the operative's rubber heels made no sound upon the pavement. +Possibly he wouldn't have noticed them then if it hadn't been for a +phrase or two of whispered German that floated out through the +shrubbery.</p> + +<p>"He will stay at Conner's" was what reached Carroll's ears. "That will +be our chance—a rare opportunity to strike two blows at once, one at +our enemy and the other at this smug, self-satisfied nation which is +content to make money out of the slaughter of Germany's sons. Once he is +in the hotel, the rest will be easy."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How?" inquired a second voice.</p> + +<p>"A bomb, so arranged to explode with the slightest additional pressure, +in a—"</p> + +<p>"Careful," growled a third man. "Eight fifty-nine would hardly care to +have his plans spread all over New York. This cursed shrubbery is so +dense that there is no telling who may be near. Come!"</p> + +<p>And Carroll, crouched on the outside of the fence which separates the +street from the Park, knew that seconds were precious if he was to get +any further information. A quick glance down the street showed him that +the nearest gate was too far away to permit of entrance in that manner. +So, slipping his automatic into the side pocket of his coat he leaped +upward and grasped the top of the iron fence. On the other side he could +hear the quick scuffle of feet as the Germans, alarmed, began to retreat +rapidly.</p> + +<p>A quick upward heave, a purchase with his feet, and he was over, his +revolver in his hand the instant he lighted on the other side.</p> + +<p>"Halt!" he called, more from force of habit than from anything else, for +he had no idea that any of the trio would stop.</p> + +<p>But evidently one of them did, for from behind the shelter of a near-by +bush came the quick spat of a revolver and a tongue of flame shot toward +him. The bullet, however, sung harmlessly past and he replied with a +fusillade of shots that ripped through the bush and brought a shower of +German curses from the other side. Then another of the conspirators +opened fire from a point at right angles to the first, and the ruse was +successful, for it diverted Carroll's attention long enough to permit +the escape of the first man, and the operative was still flat on the +ground, edging his way cautiously forward when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> the Park police arrived, +the vanguard of a curious crowd attracted by the shots.</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble?" demanded the "sparrow cop."</p> + +<p>"None at all," replied Dave, as he slipped the still warm revolver into +his pocket and brushed some dirt from his sleeve. "Guy tried to hold me +up, that's all, and I took a pot shot at him. Cut it! Secret Service!" +and he cautiously flashed his badge in the light of the electric torch +which the park policeman held.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" grunted the guard, as he made his way to the bush from behind +which Carroll had been attacked. "You evidently winged him. There's +blood on the grass here, but no sign of the bird himself. Want any +report to headquarters?" he added, in an undertone.</p> + +<p>"Not a word," said Carroll. "I'm working this end of the game and I want +to finish it without assistance. It's the only thing that's happened in +a month to break the monotony and there's no use declaring anyone else +in on it. By the way, do you know of any place in town known as +Conner's?"</p> + +<p>"Conner's? Never heard of it. Sounds as though it might be a dive in the +Bowery. Plenty of queer places down there."</p> + +<p>"No, it's hardly likely to be in that section of the city," Dave stated. +"Farther uptown, I think. But it's a new one on me."</p> + +<p>"On me, too," agreed the guard, "and I thought I knew the town like a +book."</p> + +<p>When he reported to headquarters a few moments later, Carroll told the +chief over the wire of his brush with the trio of Germans, as well as +what he had heard. There was more than a quiver of excitement in the +voice from the other end of the wire, for this was the first actual +proof of the existence of the mysterious "No. 859."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Still believe von Ewald is a myth?" inquired the Chief.</p> + +<p>"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that," was the answer, "because +the bullet that just missed me was pretty material. Evidently some one +is planning these bomb outrages and it's up to us to nab him—if only +for the sake of the Service."</p> + +<p>"Did you catch the name of the man to whom your friends were alluding?" +asked the chief.</p> + +<p>"No, they just referred to him as 'he.'"</p> + +<p>"That might mean any one of a number of people," mused the chief. "Sir +Cecil Spring-Rice is in town, you know. Stopping at the Waldorf. Then +there's the head of the French Mission at the Vanderbilt with a bunch of +people, and Lord Wimbledon, who's spent five million dollars for horses +in the West, stopping at the same place you are. You might keep an eye +on him and I'll send Kramer and Fleming up to trail the other two."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear of the place they called Conner's, Chief?"</p> + +<p>"No, but that doesn't mean anything. It may be a code word—a +prearranged name to camouflage the hotel in the event anyone were +listening in."</p> + +<p>"Possibly," replied Carroll, just before he hung up, "but somehow I have +a hunch that it wasn't. I'll get back on the job and let you know if +anything further develops."</p> + +<p>His adventure for the night appeared to have ended, for he climbed into +bed the following morning without having been disturbed, but lay awake +for an hour or more—obsessed with the idea that he really held the clue +to the whole affair, but unable to figure out just what it was.</p> + +<p>Where was it that they intended to place the bomb? Why would they +arrange it so as to explode upon pressure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> rather than concussion or by +a time fuse? Where was Conner's? Who was the man they were plotting +against?</p> + +<p>These were some of the questions which raced through his brain, and he +awoke in the late afternoon still haunted by the thought that he really +ought to know more than he did.</p> + +<p>That night at dinner he noted, almost subconsciously, that he was served +by a new waiter, a fact that rather annoyed him because he had been +particularly pleased at the service rendered by the other man.</p> + +<p>"Where's Felix?" he inquired, as the new attendant brought his soup.</p> + +<p>"He isn't on to-night, sir," was the reply. "He had an accident and +won't be here for a couple of days."</p> + +<p>"An accident?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," was the laconic answer.</p> + +<p>"Anything serious?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He—he hurt his hand," and the waiter disappeared without +another word. Carroll thought nothing more of it at the time, but later, +over his coffee and a good cigar, a sudden idea struck him. Could it be +that Felix was one of the men whom he had surprised the night before, +the one he had fired at and hit? No, that was too much of a coincidence. +But then Felix was manifestly of foreign origin, and, while he claimed +to be Swiss, there was a distinct Teutonic rasp to his words upon +occasion.</p> + +<p>Signaling to his waiter, Dave inquired whether he knew where Felix +lived. "I'd like to know if there is anything that I can do for him," he +gave as his reason for asking.</p> + +<p>"I haven't the slightest idea," came the answer, and Carroll was aware +that the man was lying, for his demeanor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> was sullen rather than +subservient and the customary "sir" was noticeable by its absence.</p> + +<p>Once in the lobby, Dave noticed that the pretty telephone operator was +again at the switchboard, and the idea occurred to him that he might +find out Felix's address from the hotel manager or head waiter.</p> + +<p>"I understand that my waiter has been hurt in an accident," the +operative explained to the goddess of the wires, "and I'd like to find +out where he lives. Who would be likely to know?"</p> + +<p>"The head waiter ought to be able to tell you," was the reply, +accompanied by the flash of what Carroll swore to be the whitest teeth +he had ever seen. "Just a moment and I will get him on the wire for +you." Then, after a pause, "Booth Number Five, please."</p> + +<p>But Carroll got no satisfaction from that source, either. The head +waiter maintained that he knew nothing of Felix's whereabouts and hung +up the receiver in a manner which was distinctly final, not to say +impolite. The very air of mystery that surrounded the missing man was +sufficient to incline him to the belief that, after all, there might be +something to the idea that Felix was the man he had shot at the night +before. In that event, it was practically certain that Lord Wimbledon +was the object of the Germans' attention—but that didn't solve the +question of where the bomb was to be placed, nor the location of +"Conner's."</p> + +<p>"Just the same," he muttered, half aloud, "I'm going to stick around +here to-night."</p> + +<p>"Why that momentous decision?" came a voice almost at his elbow, a voice +which startled and charmed him with its inflection.</p> + +<p>Looking up, he caught the eyes of the pretty telephone girl, laughing at +him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Talking to yourself is a bad habit," she warned him with a smile which +seemed to hold an apology for her brusqueness of the night before, +"particularly in your business."</p> + +<p>"My business?" echoed Dave. "What do you know about that?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing in the world—except," and here her voice dropped to a +whisper—"except that you are a government detective and that you've +discovered something about Lord Wimbledon, probably some plot against +His Lordship."</p> + +<p>"Where—how—what in the world made you think that?" stammered Carroll, +almost gasping for breath.</p> + +<p>"Very simple," replied the girl. "Quite elementary, as Sherlock Holmes +used to say. You called the headquarters number every night when you +came down—the other girls tipped me off to that, for they know that I'm +fond of detective stories. Then everybody around here knows that Felix, +the waiter that you inquired about, is really German, though he pretends +to be Swiss, and that he, the head waiter, and the pastry cook are thick +as thieves."</p> + +<p>"You'd hardly expect me to say 'Yes,' would you? Particularly as I am +supposed to be a government operative."</p> + +<p>"Now I know you are," smiled the girl. "Very few people use the word +'operative.' They'd say 'detective' or 'agent.' But don't worry, I won't +give you away."</p> + +<p>"Please don't," laughed Carroll, half banteringly, half in earnest, for +it would never do to have it leak out that a girl had not only +discovered his identity, but his mission. Then, as an after-thought, "Do +you happen to know of any hotel or place here in town known as +'Conner's'?" he asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, of course," was the reply, amazing in its directness. "The +manager's name—" But then she halted abruptly, picked up a plug, and +said, "What number, please?" into the receiver.</p> + +<p>Carroll sensed that there was a reason for her stopping in the middle of +her sentence and, looking around, found the pussy-footed head waiter +beside him, apparently waiting for a call. Silently damning the custom +that made it obligatory for waiters to move without making a sound, +Carroll wandered off across the lobby, determined to take a stroll +around the block before settling down to his night's vigil. A stop at +the information desk, however, rewarded him with the news that Lord +Wimbledon was giving a dinner in his apartments the following evening to +the British ambassador—that being all the hotel knew officially about +his Grace's movements.</p> + +<p>"I'll take care to have half a dozen extra men on the job," Carroll +assured himself, "for that's undoubtedly the time they would pick if +they could get away with it. A single bomb then would do a pretty bit of +damage."</p> + +<p>The evening brought no further developments, but shortly after midnight +he determined to call the Rennoc, in the hope that the pretty telephone +girl was still on duty and that she might finish telling him what she +knew of Conner's.</p> + +<p>"Hotel Rennoc," came a voice which he recognized instantly.</p> + +<p>"This is Dave Carroll speaking," said the operative. "Can you tell me +now what it was you started to say about Conner's?"</p> + +<p>"Not now," came the whispered reply. Then, in a louder voice, "Just a +moment, please, and I'll see if he's registered." During the pause which +followed Dave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> realized that the girl must be aware that she was watched +by some one. Was it the silent-moving head waiter?</p> + +<p>"No, he hasn't arrived yet," was the next phrase that came over the +wires, clearly and distinctly, followed by instructions, couched in a +much lower tone, "Meet me, Drive entrance, one-five sure," and then a +click as the plug was withdrawn.</p> + +<p>It was precisely five minutes past one when Carroll paused in front of +the Riverside Drive doorway to the Rennoc, considering it the part of +discretion to keep on the opposite side of the driveway. A moment later +a woman, alone, left the hotel, glanced around quickly, and then crossed +to where he was standing.</p> + +<p>"Follow me up the street," she directed in an undertone as she passed. +"Michel has been watching like a hawk."</p> + +<p>Dave knew that Michel was the head waiter, and out of the corner of his +eye he saw a shadow slip out of another of the hotel doorways, farther +down the Drive, and start toward them. But when he looked around a +couple of blocks farther up the drive, there was no one behind them.</p> + +<p>"Why all the mystery?" he inquired, as he stepped alongside the girl.</p> + +<p>"Something's afoot in the Rennoc," she replied, "and they think I +suspect what it is and have told you about it. Michel hasn't taken his +eyes off me all evening. I heard him boast one night that he could read +lips, so I didn't dare tell you anything when you called up, even though +he was across the lobby. Conner's, the place you asked about, is the +Rennoc. Spell it backward. Conner is the manager—hence the name of the +hotel."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Carroll, "that means that they've got a plan under way to +bomb Lord Wimbledon and probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> the British ambassador at that dinner +to-morrow evening. I overheard one of them say last night that a bomb, +arranged to explode at the slightest pressure, would be placed in the—" +and then he stopped.</p> + +<p>"In the cake!" gasped the girl, as if by intuition. But her next words +showed that her deduction had a more solid foundation. "This is to be a +birthday dinner, in honor of Lord Percy Somebody who's in Lord +Wimbledon's party, as well as in honor of Lord Cecil. The pastry cook, +who's almost certainly mixed up in the plot, has plenty of opportunity +to put the bomb there, where it would never be suspected. The instant +they cut the cake—"</p> + +<p>But her voice trailed off in midair as something solid came down on her +head with a crash. At the same moment Dave was sent reeling by a blow +from a blackjack, a blow which sent him spinning across the curb and +into the street. He was dimly aware that two men were leaping toward him +and that a third was attacking the telephone girl.</p> + +<p>Panting, gasping, fighting for time in which to clear his head of the +effects of the first blow, Carroll fought cautiously, but desperately, +realizing that his opponents desired to avoid gun-play for fear of +attracting the police. A straight left to the jaw caught one of the men +coming in and knocked him sprawling, but the second, whom Carroll +recognized as Michel, was more wary. He dodged and feinted with the +skill of a professional boxer, and then launched an uppercut which went +home on the point of Dave's jaw.</p> + +<p>It was at that moment that the operative became aware of another +participant in the fray—a figure in white with what appeared to be a +halo of gold around her head. The thought flashed through his mind that +he must be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> dreaming, but he had sense enough left to leap aside when a +feminine voice called "Look out!" and the arc light glinted off the +blade of a knife as it passed perilously close to his ribs. Then the +figure in white brought something down on Michel's head and, wheeling, +seized the wrist of the third man in a grip of iron.</p> + +<p>Ten seconds later the entire trio was helpless and Carroll was blowing a +police whistle for assistance.</p> + +<p>"There was really nothing to it at all," protested the telephone girl, +during the ride in the patrol. "They made the mistake of trying to let +Felix, with his wounded hand, take care of me. I didn't have two years +of gym work and a complete course in jiu jitsu for nothing, and that +blackjack came in mighty handy a moment or two later. All Felix +succeeded in doing was to knock my hat off, and I shed my coat the +instant I had attended to him."</p> + +<p>"That's why I thought you were a goddess in white," murmured Dave.</p> + +<p>"No goddess at all, just a girl from the switchboard who was glad to +have a chance at the brutes. Anyhow, that few minutes beats any book I +ever read for action!"</p> + +<p>Dave's hand stole out in the darkness as they jolted forward, and when +it found what it was seeking, "Girl," he said, "do you realize that I +don't even know your name?"</p> + +<p>"Lang," said a voice in the dark. "My friends call me Virginia."</p> + +<p>"After what you just did for me, I think we ought to be at least good +friends," laughed Carroll, and the thrill of the fight which has just +passed was as nothing when she answered:</p> + +<p>"At least that ... Dave!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Quinn paused for a moment to repack his pipe and I took advantage of the +interruption to ask what happened at the Wimbledon dinner the following +night.</p> + +<p>"Not a thing in the world," replied Quinn. "Everything went off like +clockwork—everything but the bomb. As the Podunk <i>Gazette</i> would say, +'A very pleasant time was had by all.' But you may be sure that they +were careful to examine the cake and the other dishes before they were +sampled by the guests. Michel, Felix, and the cook were treated to a +good dose of the third degree at headquarters, but without results. They +wouldn't even admit that they knew any such person as 'Number +Eight-fifty-nine' or von Ewald. Two of them got off with light sentences +for assault and battery. The pastry cook, however, went to the pen when +they found a quantity of high explosives in his room."</p> + +<p>"And Miss Lang?"</p> + +<p>"If you care to look up the marriage licenses for October, nineteen +sixteen, you'll find that one was issued in the names of David Carroll +and Virginia Lang. She's the wife of a captain now, for Dave left the +Service the following year and went to France to finish his fight with +the Hun. I saw him not long ago and the only thing that's worrying him +is where he is going to find his quota of excitement, for he says that +there is nothing left in the Service but chasing counterfeiters and +guarding the resident, and he can't stand the idea of staying in the +army and drawing his pay for wearing a uniform."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> + +<h3>"LOST—$100,000!"</h3> + + +<p>"I stopped on my way here to-night and laid in a supply of something +that I don't often use—chewing gum," said Bill Quinn, formerly of the +Secret Service, as he settled back comfortably to enjoy an evening's +chat. "There are some professional reformers who maintain that the great +American habit of silently working the jaws over a wad of chewing gum is +harmful in the extreme, but if you'll look into the matter you'll find +that agitators of that type want you to cut out all habits except those +which they are addicted to.</p> + +<p>"Personally, I'm not a habitual worshiper at the shrine of the great god +Goom, but there's no use denying the fact that it does soothe one's +nerves occasionally. Incidentally, it has other uses—as Elmer Allison +discovered not very long ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" I inquired, sensing the fact that Quinn had a story up his sleeve +and was only awaiting the opportunity to spring it. "Didn't you mention +a post-office case in which a wad of gum played a prominent role?"</p> + +<p>"That's the one," said the former government operative, easing his +wounded leg into a less cramped position. "Here, have a couple of sticks +just to get the proper atmosphere and I'll see if I can recall the +details."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>For some reason that's hard to define [Quinn went on, after he had +peeled two of the dun-colored sticks and commenced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> work on them] crooks +in general and amateur crooks in particular seem to regard the United +States mails as particularly easy prey. Possibly they figure that, as +millions of dollars are handled by the Post-office Department every +year, a little here and there won't be missed. But if they knew the high +percentage of mail robberies that are solved they wouldn't be so keen to +tackle the game.</p> + +<p>Lifting valuables, once they have passed into the hands of Uncle Sam's +postman, is a comparatively easy crime to commit. There are dozens of +ways of doing it—methods which range all the way from fishing letters +out of a post-box with a piece of string and a hairpin, to holding up +the mail car in a deserted portion of a railroad track. But getting away +with it is, as our Yiddish friends say, something else again.</p> + +<p>The annals of the Postal Inspection Service are filled with incidents +which indicate that the High Cost of Living is down around zero compared +to the High Cost of Crime, when said crime is aimed at the mails. There +are scores of men in Atlanta, Leavenworth, and other Federal prisons +whose advice would be to try murder, forgery, or arson rather than +attempt to earn a dishonest living by stealing valuable letters.</p> + +<p>The majority of persons realize that it pays to register their money and +insure their packages because, once this precaution has been attended +to, the government exercises special care in the handling of these and +makes it extremely difficult for crooks to get anywhere near them. If a +registered letter disappears there is a clean-cut trail of signed +receipts to follow and somebody has to bear the burden of the loss. But +even with these precautions, the Registered Section is looted every now +and then.</p> + +<p>One of the biggest cases of this kind on record was that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> which occurred +in Columbus when letters with an aggregate value of one hundred thousand +dollars just vanished into thin air. Of course, they didn't all +disappear at one time, but that made it all the more mysterious—because +the thefts were spread out over a period of some five or six weeks and +they went on, just as regularly as clockwork, in spite of the +precautions to the contrary.</p> + +<p>The first of the losses, as I recall it, was a shipment of ten thousand +dollars in large bills sent by a Chicago bank to a financial concern in +Columbus. When working on that single case, of course, the officials of +the department were more or less in the dark as to the precise place +that the disappearance had taken place, in spite of the fact that there +were the usual signed slips indicating that the package had been +received at the Columbus Post Office. But clerks who are in a hurry +sometimes sign receipts without being any too careful to check up the +letters or packages to which they refer—a highly reprehensible +practice, but one which is the outgrowth of the shortage of help. It was +quite within the bounds of possibility, for example, for the package to +have been abstracted from the Chicago office without the loss being +discovered until Columbus checked up on the mail which was due there.</p> + +<p>But a week or ten days later came the second of the mysterious +disappearances—another envelope containing bills of large denomination, +this time en route from Pittsburgh to Columbus. When a third loss +occurred the following fortnight, the headquarters of the Postal +Inspection Service in Washington became distinctly excited and every man +who could be spared was turned loose in an effort to solve the problem. +Orders were given to shadow all the employees who had access to the +registered mail with a view to discovering whether they had made any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +change in their personal habits, whether they had displayed an unusual +amount of money within the past month, or whether their family had shown +signs of exceptional prosperity.</p> + +<p>It was while the chief was waiting for these reports that Elmer Allison +blew into Washington unexpectedly and strolled into the room in the big +gray-stone tower of what was then the Post-office Department Building, +with the news that he had solved the "poison-pen case" in Kansas City +and was ready to tackle something else.</p> + +<p>The chief, to put it mildly, was surprised and inquired why in the name +of the seven hinges of Hades Allison hadn't made his report directly to +the office by mail.</p> + +<p>"That was a pretty important case, Chief," Elmer replied, "and I didn't +want to take any chances of the findings being lost in the registered +mail." Then, grinning, he continued, "Understand you've been having a +bit of trouble out in Columbus?"</p> + +<p>"Who told you about that?" growled the chief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you can't keep things like that under your hat even if you do +succeed in keeping them out of the papers," retorted Allison. "A little +bird tipped me off to it three weeks ago and—"</p> + +<p>"And you determined to leap back here as soon as you could so that you +would be assigned to the case, eh?"</p> + +<p>"You guessed it, Chief. I wanted a try at the Columbus affair and I was +afraid I wouldn't get it unless I put the matter personally up to you. +How 'bout it?"</p> + +<p>"As it happens, you lost about two days of valuable time in coming here, +instead of wiring for further instructions from Kansas City," the chief +told him. "I had intended taking you off that anonymous letter case by +noon to-morrow, whether you'd finished it or not, for this is a far more +important detail. Somebody's gotten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> away with fifty thousand dollars so +far, and there's no—"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, sir, but here's a wire which has just arrived from Rogers, +in Columbus. Thought you'd like to see it at once," and the chief's +secretary laid a yellow slip face upward on his desk. Allison, who was +watching closely, saw a demonstration of the reason why official +Washington maintained that the chief of the Postal Inspection Service +had the best "poker face" in the capital. Not a muscle in his +countenance changed as he read the telegram and then glanced up at +Allison, continuing his sentence precisely where he had been +interrupted:</p> + +<p>"Reason to suppose that the thief is going to stop there. This wire from +Rogers, the postmaster at Columbus, announces the loss of a fourth +package of bills. Fifty thousand this time. That's the biggest yet and +it brings the total deficit up to one hundred thousand dollars. Rogers +says that the banks are demanding instant action and threatening to take +the case to headquarters, which means that it'll spread all over the +papers. Congress will start an investigation, some of us will lose our +official heads, and, in the mix-up, the man who's responsible for the +losses will probably make a clean getaway."</p> + +<p>Then, with a glance at the clock which faced his desk, "There's a train +for Columbus in twenty minutes, Allison. Can you make it?"</p> + +<p>"It's less than ten minutes to the station," replied the operative. +"That gives me plenty of leeway."</p> + +<p>"Well, move and move fast," snapped the chief. "I'll wire Columbus that +you've been given complete charge of the case; but try to keep it away +from the papers as long as you can. The department has come in for +enough criticism lately without complicating the issue from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +outside. Good luck." And Allison was out of the door almost before he +had finished speaking.</p> + +<p>Allison reached Columbus that night, but purposely delayed reporting for +work until the following morning. In the first place there was no +telling how long the case would run and he felt that it was the part of +wisdom to get all the rest he could in order to start fresh. The +"poison-pen" puzzle hadn't been exactly easy to solve, and his visit to +Washington, though brief, had been sufficiently long for him to absorb +some of the nervous excitement which permeated the department. Then, +too, he figured that Postmaster Rogers would be worn out by another day +of worry and that both of them would be the better for a night's +undisturbed sleep.</p> + +<p>Nine o'clock the next morning, however, saw him seated in one of the +comfortable chairs which adorned the postmaster's private office. +Rogers, who did not put in an appearance until ten, showed plainly the +results of the strain under which he was laboring, for he was a +political appointee who had been in office only a comparatively short +time, a man whose temperament resented the attacks launched by the +opposition and who felt that publication of the facts connected with the +lost one hundred thousand dollars would spell ruin, both to his own +hopes and those of the local organization.</p> + +<p>Allison found that the chief had wired an announcement of his coming the +day before and that Rogers was almost pitifully relieved to know that +the case was in the hands of the man who had solved nearly a score of +the problems which had arisen in the Service during the past few years.</p> + +<p>"How much do you know about the case?" inquired the postmaster.</p> + +<p>"Only what I learned indirectly and from what the chief told me," was +Allison's reply. "I understand that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> approximately one hundred thousand +dollars is missing from this post office" (here Rogers instinctively +winced as he thought of the criticism which this announcement would +cause if it were made outside the office), "but I haven't any of the +details."</p> + +<p>"Neither have we, unfortunately," was the answer. "If we had had a few +more we might have been able to prevent the last theft. You know about +that, of course."</p> + +<p>"The fifty thousand dollars? Yes. The chief told me that you had wired."</p> + +<p>"Well, that incident is typical of the other three. Banks in various +parts of the country have been sending rather large sums of money +through the mails to their correspondents here. There's nothing unusual +in that at this time of the year. But within the past five or six weeks +there have been four packages—or, rather, large envelopes—of money +which have failed to be accounted for. They ranged all the way from ten +thousand dollars, the first loss, to the fifty thousand dollars which +disappeared within the past few days. I purposely delayed wiring +Washington until we could make a thorough search of the whole place, +going over the registry room with a fine-tooth comb—"</p> + +<p>"Thus warning every man in it that he was under suspicion," muttered +Allison.</p> + +<p>"What was that?" Rogers inquired.</p> + +<p>"Nothing—nothing at all. Just talking to myself. Far from a good habit, +but don't mind it. I've got some queer ones. You didn't find anything, +of course?"</p> + +<p>"In the building? No, not a thing. But I thought it best to make a +thorough clean-up here before I bothered Washington with a report."</p> + +<p>"What about the men who've been working on the case up to this time?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not one of them has been able to turn up anything that could be +dignified by the term clue, as I believe you detectives call it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's the right word," agreed the operative. "At least all +members of the Detective-Story-Writers' Union employ it frequently +enough to make it fit the case. What lines have Boyd and the other men +here been following?"</p> + +<p>"At my suggestion they made a careful examination into the private lives +of all employees of the post-office, including myself," Rogers answered, +a bit pompously. "I did not intend to evade the slightest responsibility +in the matter, so I turned over my bankbook, the key to my safe-deposit +vault and even allowed them to search my house from cellar to garret."</p> + +<p>"Was this procedure followed with respect to all the other employees in +the building?"</p> + +<p>"No, only one or two of the highest—personal friends of mine whom I +could trust to keep silent. I didn't care to swear out search warrants +for the residences of all the people who work here, and that's what it +would have meant if they had raised any objection. In their cases the +investigation was confined to inquiries concerning their expenditures in +the neighborhood, unexpected prosperity, and the like."</p> + +<p>"With what result?"</p> + +<p>"None at all. From all appearances there isn't a soul in this building +who has had ten cents more during the past six weeks than he possessed +in any like period for two years back."</p> + +<p>"Did Boyd or any of the other department operatives ask to see the plans +of the post office?" inquired Allison, taking another tack.</p> + +<p>"The what?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The plans of the post-office—the blue print prepared at the time that +the building was erected."</p> + +<p>"No. Why should they?"</p> + +<p>"I thought they might have been interested in it, that's all," was +Allison's answer, but anyone who knew him would have noted that his tone +was just a trifle too nonchalant to be entirely truthful.</p> + +<p>"By the way," added the operative, "might I see it?"</p> + +<p>"The blue print?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You will probably find it in the safe. If you'll have some one +look it up, I'll be back in half an hour to examine it," said Allison. +"Meanwhile, I'll talk to Boyd and the other men already on the ground +and see if I can dig anything out of what they've discovered."</p> + +<p>But Boyd and his associates were just as relieved as Rogers had been to +find that the case had been placed in Allison's hands. Four weeks and +more of steady work had left them precisely where they had +commenced—"several miles back of that point," as one of them admitted, +"for three more stunts have been pulled off right under our eyes." The +personal as well as the official record of every man and woman in the +Columbus post office had been gone over with a microscope, without the +slightest result. If the germ of dishonesty was present, it was +certainly well hidden.</p> + +<p>"We'll try another and more powerful lens," Allison stated, as he turned +back to the postmaster's private office. "By the way, Boyd, have you or +any of your men been in the Service more than four years?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think any of us has. What has that got to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing in the world, as far as your ability is concerned, but +there is one point that every one of you overlooked—because you never +heard of it. I'm going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> to try it out myself now and I'll let you know +what develops."</p> + +<p>With that Allison turned and sauntered back into Rogers's office.</p> + +<p>There, spread upon the desk, was the missing blue print, creased and +dusty from disuse.</p> + +<p>"First time you ever saw this, eh?" Allison inquired of the postmaster.</p> + +<p>"The first time I even knew it was there," admitted that official. +"How'd you know where to find it?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't—but there's an ironclad rule of the department that plans of +this nature are to be kept under lock and key for just such emergencies +as this. But I guess your predecessor was too busy to worry you with +details."</p> + +<p>Rogers grunted. It was an open secret that the postmaster who had +preceded him had not been any too friendly to his successor.</p> + +<p>Allison did not pursue the subject but spread the plan upon an +unoccupied table so that he could examine it with care.</p> + +<p>"If you'll be good enough to lock that door, Postmaster," he directed, +"I'll show you something else about your building that you didn't know. +But I don't want anybody else coming in while we're discussing it."</p> + +<p>Puzzled, but feeling that the government detective ought to be allowed +to handle things in his own way, Rogers turned the key in the lock and +came over to the table where Allison stood.</p> + +<p>"Do you see that little square marked with a white star and the letter +'L'?" asked Elmer.</p> + +<p>"Yes, what is it?"</p> + +<p>"What is this large room next to it?" countered the operative.</p> + +<p>"That's the—why, that's the registry room!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Precisely. And concealed in the wall in a spot known only to persons +familiar with this blue print, is a tiny closet, or 'lookout.' That's +what the 'L' means and that's the reason that there's a strict rule +about guarding plans of this nature very carefully."</p> + +<p>"You mean to say that a place has been provided for supervision of the +registry division—a room from which the clerks can be watched without +their knowledge?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly—and such a precaution has been taken in practically every post +office of any size in the country. Only the older men in the Service +know about it, which is the reason that neither Boyd nor any of his men +asked to see this set of plans. The next step is to find the key to the +lookout and start in on a very monotonous spell of watchful waiting. You +have the bunch of master keys, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they're in the safe where the plans were kept. Just a moment and +I'll get them."</p> + +<p>When Rogers produced the collection of keys, Allison ran hurriedly over +them and selected one which bore, on the handle, a small six-pointed +star corresponding to the mark on the blue print.</p> + +<p>"Want to go up with me and investigate the secret chamber?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"I certainly do," agreed Rogers. "But there's one point where this room +won't help us in the slightest. How did the thief get the mail +containing the money out of the building? You know the system that +maintains in the registry room? It's practically impossible for a sheet +of paper to be taken out of there, particularly when we are on guard, as +we are now."</p> + +<p>"That's true," Allison admitted, "but it's been my experience that +problems which appear the most puzzling are, after all, the simplest of +explanation. You remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> the Philadelphia mint robbery—the one that +Drummond solved in less than six hours? This may prove to be just as +easy."</p> + +<p>There Allison was wrong, dead wrong—as he had to admit some ten days +later, when, worn with the strain of sitting for hours at a time with +his eyes glued to the ventilator which masked the opening to the +lookout, he finally came to the conclusion that something would have to +be done to speed things up. It was true that no new robberies had +occurred in the meantime, but neither had any of the old ones been +punished. The lost one hundred thousand dollars was still lost; though +the department, with the aid of the Treasury officials, had seen that +the banks were reimbursed.</p> + +<p>"The decoy letter," thought Allison, "is probably the oldest dodge in +the world. But, who knows, it may work again in this case—provided we +stage-manage it sufficiently carefully."</p> + +<p>With the assistance of the cashier of one of the local banks Elmer +arranged to have a dummy package of money forwarded by mail from New +York. It was supposed to contain thirty-five thousand dollars in cash, +and all the formalities were complied with precisely as if thirty-five +thousand-dollar bills were really inside the envelope, instead of as +many sheets of blank paper carefully arranged.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the day the envelope was due to reach Columbus, +Allison took up his position close to the grille in the lookout, his +eyes strained to catch the slightest suspicious movement below. Hour +after hour passed uneventfully until, almost immediately below him, he +saw a man drop something on the floor. Two envelopes had slipped from +his hands and he stooped to pick them up—that was all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<p>But what carried a thrill to the operative in the lookout was the fact +that one of the envelopes was the dummy sent from New York and that, +when the man straightened up, he had only <i>one</i> of the two in his hands. +The dummy had disappeared!</p> + +<p>Allison rubbed his eyes and looked again. No, he was right. The postal +clerk had, in some manner, disposed of the envelope supposed to contain +thirty-five thousand dollars and he was going about his work in +precisely the same way as before.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," Allison argued to himself. "There's something missing +besides the envelope! What is it?"</p> + +<p>A moment later he had the clue to the whole affair—the jaws of the +clerk, which Allison had previously and subconsciously noted were always +hard at work on a wad of gum, now were at rest for the first time since +the operative had entered the lookout! The chewing gum and the dummy +packet had disappeared at the same time!</p> + +<p>It didn't take Elmer more than thirty seconds to reach Rogers's office, +and he entered with the startling announcement that "an envelope +containing thirty-five thousand dollars had just disappeared from the +registry room."</p> + +<p>"What?" demanded the postmaster. "How do you know? I haven't received +any report of it."</p> + +<p>"No, and you probably wouldn't for some time," Elmer retorted. "But it +happens that I saw it disappear."</p> + +<p>"Then you know where it is?"</p> + +<p>"I can lay my hands on it—and probably the rest of the missing +money—inside of one minute. Let's pay a visit to the registry room."</p> + +<p>Before entering the section, however, Allison took the precaution of +posting men at both of the doors.</p> + +<p>"After I'm inside," he directed, "don't allow anyone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> to leave on any +pretext whatever. And stand ready for trouble in case it develops. Come +on, Mr. Rogers."</p> + +<p>Once in the room devoted to the handling of registered mail, Allison +made directly for the desk under the lookout. The occupant regarded +their approach with interest but, apparently, without a trace of +anxiety.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to have that letter supposed to contain thirty-five thousand +dollars which you dropped on the floor a few moments ago," Elmer +remarked in a quiet, almost conversational tone.</p> + +<p>Except for a sudden start, the clerk appeared the picture of innocence.</p> + +<p>"What letter?" he parried.</p> + +<p>"You know what one!" snapped Allison, dropping his suave manner and +moving his hand significantly toward his coat pocket. "Will you produce +it—or shall I?"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know what you are talking about," stammered the clerk.</p> + +<p>"No? Well, I'll show you!" and the operative's hands flashed forward and +there was a slight click as a pair of handcuffs snapped into place. +"Now, Mr. Rogers, you'll be good enough to watch me carefully, as your +evidence will probably be needed in court. I'll show you as simple and +clever a scheme as I've ever run across."</p> + +<p>With that Allison dropped to the floor, wormed his way under the +table-desk, tugged at something for a moment and then rose, holding five +large envelopes in his hands!</p> + +<p>"There's your lost one hundred thousand dollars," he explained, "and a +dummy packet of thirty-five thousand dollars to boot. Thought you could +get away with it indefinitely, eh?" he inquired of the handcuffed clerk. +"If you'd stopped with the one hundred thousand dollars, as you'd +probably intended to do, you might have. But that extra letter turned +the trick. Too bad it contained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> only blank paper"—and he ripped the +envelope open to prove his assertion.</p> + +<p>"But—but—I don't understand," faltered Rogers. "How did this man work +it right under our eyes?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't," declared Allison. "He tried to work it right under mine, +but he couldn't get away with it. The plan was simplicity itself. He'd +slip an envelope which he knew contained a large sum of money out of the +pile as it passed him—he hadn't signed for them, so he wasn't taking +any special risk—drop it on the floor, stoop over, and, if he wasn't +being watched, attach it to the <i>bottom</i> of his desk with a wad of +chewing gum. You boasted that you went over the room with a fine-tooth +comb, but who would think of looking on the under side of this table. +The idea, of course, was that he'd wait for the storm to blow +over—because the letters could remain in their hiding places for +months, if necessary—and then start on a lifelong vacation with his +spoils as capital. But he made the error of overcapitalization and I +very much fear that he'll put in at least ten years at Leavenworth or +Morgantown. But I'd like to bet he never chews another piece of gum!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"That," continued Quinn, as he tossed another pink wrapper into the +wastebasket, "I consider the simplest and cleverest scheme to beat the +government that I ever heard of—better even than Cochrane's plan in +connection with the robbery of the Philadelphia mint, because it didn't +necessitate any outside preparation at all. The right job, a piece of +gum, and there you are. But you may be sure that whenever an important +letter disappears nowadays, one of the first places searched by the +Postal Inspection operatives is the lower side of the desks and tables. +You can't get away with a trick twice in the same place."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> + +<h3>"THE DOUBLE CODE"</h3> + + +<p>It was one night in early fall that Bill Quinn and I were browsing +around the library in the house that he had called "home" ever since a +counterfeiter's bullet incapacitated him from further active work in the +Secret Service. Prior to that time he had lived, as he put it, "wherever +he hung his hat," but now there was a comfortable little house with a +den where Quinn kept the more unusual, and often gruesome, relics which +brought back memories of the past.</p> + +<p>There, hanging on the wall with a dark-brown stain still adorning the +razorlike edge, was a Chinese hatchet which had doubtless figured in +some tong war on the Coast. Below was an ordinary twenty-five-cent +piece, attached to the wall paper with chewing gum—"just as it once +aided in robbing the Treasury of nearly a million dollars," Quinn +assured me. In another part of the room was a frame containing what +appeared to be a bit torn from the wrapping of a package, with the +canceled stamp and a half-obliterated postmark as the only clues to the +murder of the man who had received it, and, beside the bookcases, which +contained a wide range of detective literature, hung a larger frame in +which were the finger prints of more than a score of criminals, men +bearing names practically unknown to the public, but whose exploits were +bywords in the various governmental detective services.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was while glancing over the contents of the bookcase that I noted one +volume which appeared strangely out of place in this collection of the +fictional romances of crime.</p> + +<p>"What's this doing here?" I inquired, taking down a volume of <i>The Giant +Raft</i>, by Jules Verne. "Verne didn't write detective stories, did he?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Quinn, "and it's really out of place in the bookcase. If +possible, I'd like to have it framed and put on the wall with the rest +of the relics—for it's really more important than any of them, from the +standpoint of value to the nation. That quarter on the wall over +there—the one which figured in the Sugar Fraud case—cost the +government in the neighborhood of a million dollars, but this book +probably saved a score of millions and hundreds of lives as well. If it +hadn't been for the fact that Thurber of the Navy Department knew his +Jules Vernes even better than he did his Bible, it's quite possible +that—</p> + +<p>"Well, there's no use telling the end of the story before the beginning. +Make yourself comfortable and I'll see if I can recall the details of +the case."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Remember Dr. Heinrich Albert? [Quinn inquired, after we had both +stretched out in front of the open fire]. Theoretically, the Herr Doktor +was attached to the German embassy in Washington merely in an advisory +and financial capacity. He and Haniel von Heimhausen—the same counselor +that the present German government wanted to send over here as +ambassador after the signing of the peace treaty—were charged with the +solution of many of the legal difficulties which arose in connection +with the business of the big red brick dwelling on Massachusetts Avenue. +But while von Heimhausen was occupied with the legal end of the game, +Doctor Albert attended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> to many of the underground details which went +unsuspected for many years.</p> + +<p>It was he, for example, who managed the bidding for the wireless station +in the Philippines—the plan which permitted the German government to +dictate the location of the station and to see to it that the towers +were so placed where they would be most useful to Berlin. He undoubtedly +worked with von Papen and Boy-Ed during the early years of the +war—years in which this precious trio, either with or without the +knowledge of Count von Bernstorff, sought by every means to cripple +American shipping, violate American neutrality, and make a laughingstock +of American diplomatic methods. What's more, they got away with it for +months, not because the Secret Service and the Department of Justice +weren't hot on their trail, but because the Germans were too cagy to be +caught and you can't arrest a diplomat just on suspicion.</p> + +<p>During the months which followed the first of August, nineteen fourteen, +practically every one of the government's detective services was called +upon in some way to pry into the affairs of the embassy staff. But the +brunt of the work naturally devolved upon the two organizations directly +concerned with preventing flagrant breaches of neutrality—the Secret +Service and the Department of Justice.</p> + +<p>Every time that Doctor Albert, or any other official of the German +government, left Washington he was trailed by anywhere from one to five +men. Every move he made was noted and reported to headquarters, with the +result that the State Department had a very good idea of the names of +the men who were being used to forward Germany's ends, even though it +knew comparatively little about what was actually planned. The attachés +were entirely too clever to carry on compromising conversations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> in the +open, and their appointments were made in such a manner as effectually +to prevent the planting of a dictaphone or any other device by which +they might be overheard.</p> + +<p>The directions to the men who were responsible for the working of the +two Services were:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Every attaché of the German embassy is to be guarded with +extreme care, day and night. Reports are to be made through +the usual channels and, in the event that something unusual +is observed, Divisional Headquarters is to be notified +instantly, the information being transmitted to Washington +before any final action is taken.</p></blockquote> + +<p>This last clause, of course, was inserted to prevent some hot-headed +operative from going off half-cocked and thus spoiling the State +Department's plans. As long as Albert and his associates were merely +"guarded" they couldn't enter any formal complaint. But, given half a +chance, they would have gotten on their official dignity and demanded +that the espionage cease.</p> + +<p>From the State Department's point of view it was an excellent rule, but +Gene Barlow and the other Service men assigned to follow Albert couldn't +see it in that light.</p> + +<p>"What's the idea, anyhow?" Gene growled one night as his pet taxicab +dashed down Massachusetts Avenue in the wake of the big touring car that +was carrying the German attaché to the Union Station. "Here we have to +be on the job at all hours, just to watch this Dutchman and see what he +does. And," with a note of contempt, "he never does anything worth +reporting. Sees half a dozen people, lunches at the German-American +Club, drops in at two or three offices downtown, and then back here +again. If they'd only let us waylay him and get hold of that black bag +that he always carts around there'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> be nothing to it. Some day I'm +going to do that little thing, just to see what happens."</p> + +<p>But Barlow took it out in threats. Secret Service men find pleasure in +stating what they are going to do "some day"—but the quality of +implicit obedience has been drilled into them too thoroughly for them to +forget it, which is possibly the reason why they take such a sheer and +genuine delight in going ahead when the restrictions are finally lifted.</p> + +<p>It was in New York, more than two years after the war had commenced, +that Barlow got his first opportunity to "see what would happen." In the +meantime, he had been assigned to half a dozen other cases, but always +returned to the shadowing of Doctor Albert because he was the one man +who had been eminently successful in that work. The German had an almost +uncanny habit of throwing his pursuers off the trail whenever he wanted +to and in spite of the efforts of the cleverest men in the Service had +disappeared from time to time. The resumption of unrestricted submarine +warfare and the delicacy of the diplomatic situation which ensued made +it imperative that the "man with the saber scar," as Doctor Albert was +known, be kept constantly under surveillance.</p> + +<p>"Stick to him, Gene, and don't bother about reporting until you are +certain that he will stay put long enough for you to phone," were the +instructions that Barlow received. "The doctor must be watched every +moment that he's away from the Embassy and it's up to you to do it."</p> + +<p>"Anything else beside watching him?" inquired the operative, hopefully.</p> + +<p>"No," smiled the chief, "there isn't to be any rough stuff. We're on the +verge of an explosion as it is, and anyone who pulls the hair trigger +will not only find himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> out of a job, but will have the doubtful +satisfaction of knowing that he's responsible for wrecking some very +carefully laid plans. Where Albert goes, who he talks with and, if +possible, a few details of what they discuss, is all that's wanted."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't like to have a piece of the Kaiser's mustache or anything of +that kind, would you, Chief?" Barlow retorted. "I could get that for you +a whole lot easier than I could find out what the man with the saber +scar talks about. He's the original George B. Careful. Never was known +to take a chance. Wouldn't bet a nickel against a hundred dollars that +the sun would come up to-morrow and always sees to it that his +conferences are held behind bolted doors. They even pull down the shades +so that no lip reader with a pair of field glasses can get a tip as to +what they're talking about."</p> + +<p>"That's the reason you were picked for this case," was the chief's +reply. "Any strong-arm man could whale Albert over the head and throw +him in the river. That wouldn't help any. What we need is information +concerning what his plans are, and it takes a clever man to get that."</p> + +<p>"All bull and a yard wide!" laughed Gene, but the compliment pleased +him, nevertheless. "I'll watch him, but let me know when the lid comes +off and I can use other methods."</p> + +<p>The chief promised that he would—and it was not more than three weeks +later that he had an opportunity to make good.</p> + +<p>"Barlow," he directed, speaking over the long-distance phone to the +operative in New York, "the Department of Justice has just reported that +Doctor Albert is in receipt of a document of some kind—probably a +letter of instruction from Berlin—which it is vital that we have at +once.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> Our information is that the message is written on a slip of oiled +paper carried inside a dummy lead pencil. It's possible that the doctor +has destroyed it, but it isn't probable. Can you get it?"</p> + +<p>"How far am I allowed to go?" inquired Gene, hoping for permission to +stage a kidnaping of the German attaché, but fully expecting these +instructions which followed—orders that he was to do nothing that would +cause an open breach, nothing for which Doctor Albert could demand +reparation or even an apology.</p> + +<p>"In other words," Barlow said to himself, as he hung up the phone, "I'm +to accomplish the impossible, blindfolded and with my hands tied. Wonder +whether Paula would have a hunch—"</p> + +<p>Paula was Barlow's sweetheart, a pretty little brunette who earned a +very good salary as private secretary to one of the leading lights of +Wall Street—which accounted for the fact that the operative had learned +to rely upon her quick flashes of intuitive judgment for help in a +number of situations which had required tact as well as action. They +were to be married whenever Gene's professional activities subsided +sufficiently to allow him to remain home at least one night a month, +but, meanwhile, Paula maintained that she would as soon be the wife of +an African explorer—"Because at least I would know that he wouldn't be +back for six months, while I haven't any idea whether you'll be out of +town two days or two years."</p> + +<p>After they had talked the Albert matter over from all angles, Paula +inquired, "Where would your friend with the saber scar be likely to +carry the paper?"</p> + +<p>"Either in his pocket or in the black bag that he invariably has with +him."</p> + +<p>"Hum!" she mused, "if it's in his pocket I don't see that there is +anything you can do, short of knocking him down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> and taking it away from +him, and that's barred by the rules of the game. But if it is in the +mysterious black bag.... Is the doctor in town now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's at the Astor, probably for two or three days. I left Dwyer +and French on guard there while I, presumably, snatched a little sleep. +But I'd rather have your advice than any amount of rest."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," was the girl's only comment, for her mind was busy with the +problem. "There's apparently no time to lose, so I'll inform the office +the first thing in the morning that I won't be down, meet you in front +of the Astor, and we'll see what happens. Just let me stick with you, +inconspicuously, and I think that I can guarantee at least an +opportunity to lift the bag without giving the German a chance to raise +a row."</p> + +<p>Thus it was that, early the next day, Gene Barlow was joined by a +distinctly personable young woman who, after a moment's conversation, +strolled up and down Broadway in front of the hotel.</p> + +<p>Some twenty minutes later a man whose face had been disfigured by a +saber slash received at Heidelberg came down the steps and asked for a +taxi. But Barlow, acting under directions from Paula, had seen that +there were no taxis to be had. A flash of his badge and some coin of the +realm had fixed that. So Dr. Heinrich Albert, of the German embassy, was +forced to take a plebeian surface car—as Paula had intended that he +should. The Secret Service operative and his pretty companion boarded +the same car a block farther down, two other government agents having +held it sufficiently long at Forty-fourth Street to permit of this move.</p> + +<p>Worming their way through the crowd when their prey changed to the Sixth +Avenue Elevated, Gene and Paula soon reached points of vantage on either +side of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> German, who carried his black bag tightly grasped in his +right hand, and the trio kept this formation until they reached Fiftieth +Street, when the girl apparently started to make her way toward the +door. Something caused her to stumble, however, and she pitched forward +right into the arms of the German, who by that time had secured a seat +and had placed his bag beside him, still guarding it with a protecting +arm.</p> + +<p>Before the foreigner had time to gather his wits, he found himself with +a pretty girl literally in his lap—a girl who was manifestly a lady and +who blushed to the tips of her ears as she apologized for her +awkwardness. Even if the German had been a woman-hater there would have +been nothing for him to do but to assist her to her feet, and that, +necessarily, required the use of both hands. As it happened, Doctor +Albert was distinctly susceptible to feminine charms, and there was +something about this girl's smile which was friendly, though +embarrassed.</p> + +<p>So he spent longer than was strictly essential in helping her to the +door—she appeared to have turned her ankle—and then returned to his +seat only to find that his portfolio was missing!</p> + +<p>Recriminations and threats were useless. A score of people had left the +car and, as the guard heartlessly refused to stop the train before the +next station, there was naturally not a trace of the girl or the man who +had accompanied her. By that time, in fact, Barlow and Paula had slipped +into the shelter of a neighboring hotel lobby and were busy inspecting +the contents of Doctor Albert's precious brief case.</p> + +<p>"Even if there's nothing in it," laughed the girl, "we've had the +satisfaction of scaring him to death."</p> + +<p>Gene said nothing, but pawed through the papers in frantic haste.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A slip of oiled paper," he muttered. "By the Lord Harry! here it is!" +and he produced a pencil which his trained fingers told him was lighter +than it should be. With a wrench he broke off the metal tip that held +the eraser, and from within the wooden spindle removed a tightly wrapped +roll of very thin, almost transparent paper, covered with unintelligible +lettering.</p> + +<p>"What's on it?" demanded Paula.</p> + +<p>"I'll never tell you," was Barlow's reply. "It would take a better man +than I am to decipher this," and he read off:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I i i t f b b t t x o...."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Code?" interrupted the girl.</p> + +<p>"Sure it is—and apparently a peach." The next moment he had slipped the +paper carefully into an inside pocket, crammed the rest of the papers +back into the brief case, and was disappearing into a phone booth.</p> + +<p>"Better get down to work, dear," he called over his shoulder. "I'm going +to report to the office here and then take this stuff down to +Washington!" And that was the last that Paula saw of him for a week.</p> + +<p>Six hours later Barlow entered the chief's office in the Treasury +Department and reported that he had secured the code message.</p> + +<p>"So New York phoned," was the only comment from the man who directed the +destinies of the Secret Service. "Take it right up to the Navy +Department and turn it over to Thurber, the librarian. He'll be able to +read it, if anybody can."</p> + +<p>Thurber, Gene knew, was the man who was recognizedly the leading +authority on military codes and ciphers in the United States, the man +who had made a hobby as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> well as a business of decoding mysterious +messages and who had finally deciphered the famous "square letter" code, +though it took him months to do it.</p> + +<p>"He'll have to work faster than that this time," thought Barlow, as he +made his way toward the librarian's office on the fourth floor of the +big gray-stone building. "Time's at a premium and Germany moves too fast +to waste any of it."</p> + +<p>But Thurber was fully cognizant of the necessity for quick action. He +had been warned that Barlow was bringing the dispatch and the entire +office was cleared for work.</p> + +<p>Spreading the oiled paper on a table top made of clear glass, the +Librarian turned on a battery of strong electric lights underneath so +that any watermark or secret writing would have been at once apparent. +But there was nothing on the sheet except line after line of meaningless +letters.</p> + +<p>"It's possible, of course, that there may be some writing in invisible +ink on the sheet," admitted the cipher expert. "But the fact that oiled +paper is used would seem to preclude that. The code itself may be any +one of several varieties and it's a matter of trying 'em all until you +hit upon the right one."</p> + +<p>"I thought that Poe's story of 'The Gold Bug' claimed that any cipher +could be read if you selected the letter that appeared most frequently +and substituted for it the letter 'e,' which is used most often in +English, and so on down the list," stated Barlow.</p> + +<p>"So it did. But there are lots of things that Poe didn't know about +codes." Thurber retorted, his eyes riveted to the sheet before him. +"Besides, that was fiction and the author knew just how the code was +constructed, while this is fact and we have to depend upon hard work and +blind luck.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There are any number of arbitrary systems which might have been used in +writing this message," he continued. "The army clock code is one of +them—the one in which a number is added to every letter figure, +dependent upon the hour at which the message is written. But I don't +think that applies in this case. The cipher doesn't look like it—though +I'll have to admit that it doesn't look like any that I've come across +before. Let's put it on the blackboard and study it from across the +room. That often helps in concentrating."</p> + +<p>"You're not going to write the whole thing on the board?" queried the +operative.</p> + +<p>"No, only the first fifteen letters or so," and Thurber put down this +line:</p> + +<blockquote><p>I i i t f b b t t x o r q w s b b</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Translated into what we call 'letter figures,'" he went on, "that would +be 9 9 9 20 6 2 2 20 20 24 15 18 17 23 19 2 2—the system where 'a' is +denoted by 1, 'b' by 2, and so on. No, that's still meaningless. That +repetition of the letter 'i' at the beginning of the message is what +makes it particularly puzzling.</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind, I'll lock the door and get to work on this in +earnest. Where can I reach you by phone?"</p> + +<p>Barlow smiled at this polite dismissal and, stating that he would be at +headquarters for the rest of the evening and that they would know where +to reach him after that, left the office—decidedly doubtful as to +Thurber's ability to read the message.</p> + +<p>Long after midnight Gene answered a ring from the phone beside his bed +and through a haze of sleep heard the voice of the navy librarian +inquiring if he still had the other papers which had been in Doctor +Albert's bag.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," replied the operative, "but I can get them. They are on top of the +chief's desk. Nothing in them, though. Went over them with a +microscope."</p> + +<p>"Just the same," directed Thurber, "I'd like to have them right away. I +think I'm on the trail, but the message is impossible to decipher unless +we get the code word. It may be in some of the other papers."</p> + +<p>Barlow found the librarian red-eyed from his lack of sleep and the +strain of the concentration over the code letter. But when they had gone +over the papers found in the black bag, even Thurber had to admit that +he was checkmated.</p> + +<p>"Somewhere," he maintained, "is the one word which will solve the whole +thing. I know the type of cipher. It's one that is very seldom used; in +fact, the only reference to it that I know of is in Jules Verne's novel +<i>The Giant Raft</i>. It's a question of taking a key word, using the letter +figures which denote this, and adding these to the letter figures of the +original letter. That will give you a series of numbers which it is +impossible to decipher unless you know the key word. I feel certain that +this is a variation of that system, for the fact that two letters appear +together so frequently would seem to indicate that the numbers which +they represent are higher than twenty-six, the number of the letters in +the alphabet."</p> + +<p>"One word!" muttered Barlow. Then, seizing what was apparently a +memorandum sheet from the pile of Albert's papers, he exclaimed: "Here's +a list that neither the chief nor I could make anything of. See? It has +twelve numbers, which might be the months of the year, with a name or +word behind each one!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Thurber, disconsolately, "I saw that the first thing. But +this is October and the word corresponding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> to the number ten is +'Wilhelmstrasse'—and that doesn't help at all. I tried it."</p> + +<p>"Then try 'Hohenzollern,' the September word!" snapped Barlow. "This +message was presumably written in Berlin and therefore took some time to +get over here."</p> + +<p>"By George! that's so! A variation of the 'clock code' as well as +Verne's idea. Here, read off the letters and I'll put them on the board +with the figures representing Hohenzollern underneath. Take the first +fifteen as before."</p> + +<p>When they had finished, the blackboard bore the following, the first +line being the original code letters, the second the letter figures of +these, and the third the figures of the word "Hohenzollern" with the +first "h" repeated for the fifteenth letter:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I i i t f b b t t x o r q w s b b</span><br /></p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="4" summary="code table"> +<tr><td align="right">I</td><td align="right">ii</td><td align="right">t</td><td align="right">f</td><td align="right">bb</td><td align="right">tt</td><td align="right">x</td><td align="right">o</td><td align="right">r</td><td align="right">q</td><td align="right">w</td><td align="right">s</td><td align="right">bb</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">9</td><td align="right">35</td><td align="right">20</td><td align="right">6</td><td align="right">28</td><td align="right">46</td><td align="right">24</td><td align="right">15</td><td align="right">18</td><td align="right"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads '19'">17</ins></td><td align="right">23</td><td align="right">19</td><td align="right">28</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">8</td><td align="right">15</td><td align="right">8</td><td align="right">5</td><td align="right">14</td><td align="right">26</td><td align="right">15</td><td align="right">12</td><td align="right">12</td><td align="right">5</td><td align="right">18</td><td align="right">14</td><td align="right">8</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>"Why thirty-five for that double 'i' and twenty-eight for the double +'b's'?" asked Barlow.</p> + +<p>"Add twenty-six—the total number of letters in the alphabet—to the +letter figure for the letter itself," said Thurber. "That's the one +beauty of this code, one of the things which helps to throw you off the +scent. Now subtracting the two lines we have:</p> + +<div class="center"> +<span class="gap"> </span>"1<span class="gap"> </span>20<span class="gap"> </span>12<span class="gap"> </span>1<span class="gap"> </span>14<span class="gap"> </span>20<span class="gap"> </span>9<span class="gap"> </span>3<span class="gap"> </span>6<span class="gap"> </span>12<span class="gap"> </span>5<span class="gap"> </span>5<span class="gap"> </span>20<br /> +</div> + +<p>"We've got it!" he cried an instant later, as he stepped back to look at +the figures and read off:</p> + + +<div class="center">"A t l a n t i c f l e e t<br /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was a double code, after all," Thurber stated when he had deciphered +the entire message by the same procedure and had reported his discovery +to the Secretary of the Navy over the phone. "Practically infallible, +too, save for the fact that I, as well as Doctor Albert, happened to be +familiar with Jules Verne. That, plus the doctor's inability to rely on +his memory and therefore leaving his key words in his brief case, +rendered the whole thing pretty easy."</p> + +<p>"Yes," thought Gene, "plus my suggestion of the September word, rather +than the October one, and plus Paula's quick wit—that's really all +there was to it!" But he kept his thoughts to himself, preferring to +allow Thurber to reap all the rewards that were coming to him for the +solution of the "double code."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Do you know what the whole message was?" I inquired, as Quinn stopped +his narrative.</p> + +<p>"You'll find it pasted on the back of that copy of <i>The Giant Raft</i>," +replied the former operative. "That's why I claim that the book ought to +be preserved as a souvenir of an incident that saved millions of dollars +and hundreds of lives."</p> + +<p>Turning to the back of the Verne book I saw pasted there the following +significant lines:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Atlantic Fleet sails (from) Hampton Roads (at) six (o'clock) +morning of seventeenth. Eight U-boats will be waiting. Advise +necessary parties and be ready (to) seek safety. Success (of) +attack inevitable.</p></blockquote> + +<p>"That means that if Thurber hadn't been able to decipher that code the +greater part of our fleet would have been sunk by an unexpected +submarine attack, launched<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> by a nation with whom we weren't even at +war?" I demanded, when I had finished the message.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," agreed Quinn. "But if you'll look up the records you'll +find that the fleet did not sail on schedule, while Dr. Heinrich Albert +and the entire staff from the house on Massachusetts Avenue were +deported before many more weeks had passed. There was no sense in +raising a fuss about the incident at the time, for von Bernstorff would +have denied any knowledge of the message and probably would have charged +that the whole thing was a plant, designed to embroil the United States +in the war. So it was allowed to rest for the time being and merely +jotted down as another score to be wiped off the slate later on.</p> + +<p>"But you have to admit that a knowledge of Jules Verne came in very +handy—quite as much so, in fact, as did a knowledge of the habits and +disposition of white mice in another case."</p> + +<p>"Which one was that?"</p> + +<p>Quinn merely pointed to the top of his bookcase, where there reposed a +stuffed white mouse, apparently asleep.</p> + +<p>"That's a memento of the case," replied the former operative. "I'll tell +you of it the next time you drop in."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE MICE</h3> + + +<p>"The United States Secret Service," announced Bill Quinn, "is by long +odds the best known branch of the governmental detective bureaus. The +terror which the continental crook feels at the sound of the name +'Scotland Yard' finds its echo on this side of the Atlantic whenever a +criminal knows that he has run afoul of the U. S. S. S. For Uncle Sam +never forgives an injury or forgets a wrong. Sooner or later he's going +to get his man—no matter how long it takes nor how much money it costs.</p> + +<p>"But the Secret Service, strictly speaking, is only one branch of the +organization. There are others which work just as quietly and just as +effectively. The Department of Justice, which had charge of the +violation of neutrality laws, banking, and the like; the Treasury +Department, which, through the Customs Service and the Bureau of +Internal Revenue, wages constant war on the men and women who think they +can evade the import regulations and the laws against illicit +manufacture of alcohol; the Pension Bureau of the Interior Department, +which is called upon to handle hundreds of frauds every year; and the +Post Office Department, which guards the millions of dollars intrusted +to the mails.</p> + +<p>"Each of these has its own province. Each works along its own line in +conjunction with the others, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> each of them is, in reality, a secret +organization which performs a vastly important service to the nation as +a whole. When you speak of the Secret Service, the Treasury Department's +organization comes immediately to mind—coupled with a panorama of +counterfeiters, anarchists, revolutionaries, and the like. But the field +of the Secret Service is really limited when compared to the scope of +the other organizations.</p> + +<p>"Look around this room"—and he made a gesture which included the four +walls of the library den in which we were seated, a room in which the +usual decorations had been replaced by a strange collection of unusual +and, in a number of instances, gruesome relics. "Every one of those +objects is a memento of some exploit of the men engaged in Secret +Service," Quinn went on. "That Chinese hatchet up there came very close +to being buried in the skull of a man in San Diego, but its principal +mission in life was the solution of the mystery surrounding the +smuggling of thousands of pounds of opium. That water-stained cap was +fished out of the Missouri after its owner had apparently committed +suicide—but the Pension Bureau located him seven years later, with the +aid of a fortune teller in Seattle. At the side of the bookcase there +you will find several of the original poison-pen letters which created +so much consternation in Kansas City a few years ago, letters which +Allison of the Postal Inspection Service finally traced to their source +after the local authorities had given up the case as impossible of +solution.</p> + +<p>"The woman whose picture appears on the other wall was known as Mrs. +Armitage—and that was about all that they did know about her, save that +she was connected with one of the foreign organizations and that in some +mysterious way she knew everything that was going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> on in the State +Department almost as soon as it was started. And there, under that piece +of silk which figured in one of the boldest smuggling cases that the +Treasury Department ever tackled, is the blurred postmark which +eventually led to the discovery of the man who murdered Montgomery +Marshall—a case in which our old friend Sherlock Holmes would have +reveled. But it's doubtful if he could have solved it any more +skillfully than did one of the Post Office operatives."</p> + +<p>"What's the significance of that white mouse on the mantelpiece?" I +inquired, sensing the fact that Quinn was in one of his story-telling +moods.</p> + +<p>"It hasn't any significance," replied the former government agent, "but +it has a story—one which illustrates my point that all the nation's +detective work isn't handled by the Secret Service, by a long shot. Did +you ever hear of H. Gordon Fowler, alias W. C. Evans?"</p> + +<p>"No," I replied, "I don't think I ever did."</p> + +<p>"Well, a lot of people have—to their sorrow," laughed Quinn, reaching +for his pipe.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>No one appears to know what Fowler's real name is [continued the former +operative]. He traveled under a whole flock of aliases which ran the +gamut of the alphabet from Andrews to Zachary, but, to save mixing +things up, suppose that we assume that his right name was Fowler. He +used it for six months at one time, out in Minneapolis, and got away +with twenty thousand dollars' worth of stuff.</p> + +<p>For some time previous to Fowler's entrance upon the scene various +wholesale houses throughout the country had been made the victims of +what appeared to be a ring of bankruptcy experts—men who would secure +credit for goods, open a store, and then "fail." Meanwhile the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +merchandise would have mysteriously vanished and the proprietor would be +away on a "vacation" from which, of course, he would never return.</p> + +<p>On the face of it this was a matter to be settled solely by the +Wholesalers' Credit Association, but the Postal Inspection Service got +into it through the fact that the mails were palpably being used with +intent to defraud and therefore Uncle Sam came to the aid of the +business men.</p> + +<p>On the day that the matter was reported to Washington the chief of the +Postal Inspection Service pushed the button which operated a buzzer in +the outer office and summoned Hal Preston, the chap who later on was +responsible for the solution of the Marshall murder mystery.</p> + +<p>"Hal," said the chief, with a smile, "here's a case I know you'll like. +It's right in the line of routine and it ought to mean a lot of +traveling around the country—quick jumps at night and all that sort of +stuff."</p> + +<p>Preston grunted, but said nothing. You couldn't expect to draw the big +cases every time, and, besides, there was no telling when something +might break even in the most prosaic of assignments.</p> + +<p>"Grant, Wilcox & Company, in Boston, report that they've been stung +twice in the same place by a gang of bankruptcy sharks," the chief went +on. "And they're not the only ones who have suffered. Here's a list of +the concerns and the men that they've sold to. You'll see that it covers +the country from Hoquiam, Washington, to Montclair, New Jersey—so they +appear to have their organization pretty well in hand. Ordinarily we +wouldn't figure in this thing at all—but the gang made the mistake of +placing their orders through the mail and now it's up to us to land 'em. +Here's the dope. Hop to it!"</p> + +<p>That night, while en route to Mount Clemens, Michigan, where the latest +of the frauds had been perpetrated,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> Preston examined the envelope full +of evidence and came to a number of interesting conclusions. In the +first place the failures had been staged in a number of different +localities—Erie, Pennsylvania, had had one of them under the name of +"Cole & Hill"; there had been another in Sioux City, where Immerling +Brothers had failed; Metcalf and Newman, Illinois, had likewise +contributed their share, as had Minneapolis, Newark, Columbus, White +Plains, and Newburg, New York; San Diego, California; Hoquiam, +Washington, and several other points.</p> + +<p>But the point that brought Hal up with a jerk was the dates attached to +each of these affairs. No two of them had occurred within six months of +the other and several were separated by as much as a year.</p> + +<p>"Who said this was a gang?" he muttered. "Looks a lot more like the work +of a single man with plenty of nerve and, from the amount of stuff he +got away with, he ought to be pretty nearly in the millionaire class by +now. There's over two hundred thousand dollars' worth of goods covered +by this report alone and there's no certainty that it is complete. Well, +here's hoping—it's always easier to trail one man than a whole bunch of +'em."</p> + +<p>In Mount Clemens Preston found further evidence which tended to prove +that the bankruptcy game was being worked by a single nervy individual, +posing under the name of "Henry Gerard."</p> + +<p>Gerard, it appeared, had entered the local field about a year before, +apparently with plenty of capital, and had opened two prosperous stores +on the principal street. In August, about two months before Preston's +arrival, the proprietor of the Gerard stores had left on what was +apparently scheduled for a two weeks' vacation. That was the last that +had been heard of him, in spite of the fact that a number of urgent +creditors had camped upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> his trail very solicitously. The stores had +been looted, only enough merchandise being left to keep up the fiction +of a complete stock, and Gerard had vanished with the proceeds.</p> + +<p>After making a few guarded inquiries in the neighborhood of the store, +Preston sought out the house where Gerard had boarded during his stay in +Mount Clemens. There he found that the missing merchant, in order to +allay suspicion, had paid the rental of his apartment for three months +in advance, and that the place had not been touched since, save by the +local authorities who had been working on the case.</p> + +<p>"You won't find a thing there," the chief of police informed Hal, in +response to a request for information. "Gerard's skipped and that's all +there is to it. We've been over the place with a fine-tooth comb and +there ain't a scrap of evidence. We did find some telegrams torn up in +his waste basket, but if you can make anything out of 'em it's more than +I can," and he handed over an envelope filled with scraps of finely torn +yellow paper.</p> + +<p>"Not the slightest indication of where Gerard went?" inquired Preston as +he tucked the envelope in an inside pocket.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," echoed the chief. "He may be in China now, so far as we +know."</p> + +<p>"Was he married?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody here knows nothin' about him," the chief persisted. "They do say +as how he was right sweet on a girl named Anna Something-or-other who +lived in the same block. But she left town before he did, and she 'ain't +come back, neither."</p> + +<p>"What did you say her name was?"</p> + +<p>"Anna Vaughan, I b'lieve she called herself. You might ask Mrs. Morris +about her. She had a room at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> her place, only a few doors away from +where Gerard stayed."</p> + +<p>The apartment of the man who had vanished, Preston found, was furnished +in the manner typical of a thousand other places. Every stick of +furniture appeared to have seen better days and no two pieces could be +said to match. Evidently Gerard had been practicing economy in his +domestic arrangements in order to save all the money possible for a +quick getaway. What was more, he had carefully removed everything of a +personal nature, save a row of books which decorated the mantel piece in +one of the rooms.</p> + +<p>It was toward these that Preston finally turned in desperation. All but +one of them were the cheaper grade of fiction, none of which bore any +distinguishing marks, but the exception was a new copy of the latest +Railroad Guide. Just as Preston pounced upon this he heard a chuckle +from behind him and, whirling, saw the chief of police just entering the +door.</p> + +<p>"Needn't worry with that, young man," he urged. "I've been all through +it and there ain't nothin' in it. Just thought I'd drop up to see if +you'd found anything," he added, in explanation of his sudden +appearance. "Have you?"</p> + +<p>"No," admitted the postal operative. "Can't say that I have. This is the +first piece of personal property that I've been able to locate and you +say there is nothing in this?"</p> + +<p>"Nary a clue," persisted the chief, but Preston, as if loath to drop the +only tangible reminder of Gerard, idly flipped the pages of the Guide, +and then stood it on edge on the table, the covers slightly opened. +Then, as the chief watched him curiously, he closed the book, opened it +again and repeated the operation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What's the idea? Tryin' to make it do tricks?" the chief asked as Hal +stood the book on edge for the third time.</p> + +<p>"Hardly that. Just working on a little theory of my own," was the +response, as the post-office man made a careful note of the page at +which the Guide had fallen open—the same one which had presented itself +to view on the two other occasions. "Here, would you like to try it?" +and he handed the volume to the chief. But that functionary only +shrugged his shoulders and replaced the Guide upon the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>"Some more of your highfalutin' detective work, eh?" he muttered. "Soon +you'll be claimin' that books can talk."</p> + +<p>"Possibly not out loud," smiled Hal. "But they can be made to tell very +interesting stories now and then, if you know how to handle 'em. There +doesn't seem to be much here, Chief, so I think I'll go back to the +hotel. Let me know if anything comes up, will you?" And with that he +left.</p> + +<p>But before returning to the hotel he stopped at the house where Anna +Vaughan had resided and found out from the rather garrulous landlady +that Gerard had appeared to be rather smitten with the beautiful +stranger.</p> + +<p>"She certainly was dressed to kill," said the woman who ran the +establishment. "A big woman and strong as all outdoors. Mr. Gerard came +here three or four nights a week while she was with us and he didn't +seem to mind the mice at all."</p> + +<p>"Mind the what?" snapped Preston.</p> + +<p>"The mice—the white mice that she used to keep as pets," explained the +landlady. "Had half a dozen or more of them running over her shoulders, +but I told her that I couldn't stand for that. She could keep 'em in +her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> room if she wanted to, but I had to draw the line somewhere. Guess +it was on their account that she didn't have any other visitors. S'far +as I know Mr. Gerard was the only one who called on her."</p> + +<p>"When did Miss Vaughan leave?" Hal inquired.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Vaughan," corrected the woman. "She was a widow—though she was +young and pretty enough to have been married any time she wanted to be. +Guess the men wouldn't stand for them mice, though. She didn't stay very +long—just about six weeks. Left somewheres about the middle of July."</p> + +<p>"About two weeks before Gerard did?"</p> + +<p>"About that—though I don't just remember the date."</p> + +<p>A few more inquiries elicited the fact that Mrs. Vaughan's room had been +rented since her departure, so Preston gave up the idea of looking +through it for possible connecting links with the expert in bankruptcy.</p> + +<p>Returning to the hotel, the operative settled down to an examination of +the scraps of torn telegrams which the chief had handed him. Evidently +they had been significant, he argued, for Gerard had been careful to +tear them into small bits, and it was long past midnight before he had +succeeded in piecing the messages together, pasting the scraps on glass +in case there had been any notations on the reverse of the blank.</p> + +<p>But when he had finished he found that he had only added one more +puzzling aspect to the case.</p> + +<p>There were three telegrams, filed within a week and all dated just +before Gerard had left town.</p> + +<p>"Geraldine, Anna, May, and Florence are in Chicago," read the message +from Evanston, Illinois.</p> + +<p>"George, William, Katherine, Ray, and Stephen still in St. Louis," was +the wire filed from Detroit.</p> + +<p>The third message, from Minneapolis, detailed the fact<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> that "Frank, +Vera, Marguerite, Joe, and Walter are ready to leave St. Paul."</p> + +<p>None of the telegrams was signed, but, merely as a precaution, Preston +wired Evanston, Detroit, and Minneapolis to find out if there was any +record of who had sent them.</p> + +<p>"Agent here recalls message," came the answer from Detroit the next day. +"Filed by woman who refused to give her name. Agent says sender was +quite large, good-looking, and very well dressed."</p> + +<p>"Anna Vaughan!" muttered Preston, as he tucked the telegram in his +pocket and asked to be shown a copy of the latest Railway Guide.</p> + +<p>Referring to a note which he had made on the previous evening, Hal +turned to pages 251-2, the part of the book which had fallen open three +times in succession when he had examined it in Gerard's rooms, and noted +that it was the Atchinson, Topeka & Santa Fé time-table, westbound. +Evidently the missing merchant had invested in a copy of the Guide +rather than run the risk of leaving telltale time-tables around his +apartment, but he had overstepped himself by referring to only one +portion of the book.</p> + +<p>"Not the first time that a crook has been just a little too clever," +mused Preston, with a smile. "If it had been an old copy, there wouldn't +have been any evidence—but a new book, opened several times at the same +place, can be made to tell tales—his honor, the chief of police, to the +contrary."</p> + +<p>It was clear, therefore, that Preston had three leads to work on: Anna +Vaughan, a large, beautiful woman, well-dressed and with an affection +for white mice; the clue that Gerard was somewhere in the Southwest and +at least the first names of fourteen men and women connected with the +gang.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> + +<p>But right there he paused. Was there any gang? The dates of the various +disappearances tended to prove that there wasn't, but the messages +received by Gerard certainly appeared to point to the fact that others +were connected with the conspiracy to defraud.</p> + +<p>Possibly one of the clerks who had been connected with the Gerard stores +would be able to throw a little light upon the situation....</p> + +<p>It wasn't until Hal interviewed the woman who had acted as cashier and +manager for the second store that he found the lead he was after. In +response to his inquiry as to whether she had ever heard the missing +proprietor speak of any of the persons mentioned in the wires, the +cashier at first stated definitely that she hadn't, but added, a moment +later:</p> + +<p>"Come to think of it, he did. Not as people, but as trunks."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" exclaimed the operative. "Trunks?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I remember sometime last spring, when we were figuring on how much +summer goods we ought to carry, I mentioned the matter to Mr. Gerard, +and almost automatically he replied, 'I'll wire for Edna and Grace.' +Thinking he meant saleswomen, I reminded him that we had plenty, +particularly for the slack season. He colored up a bit, caught his +breath, and turned the subject by stating that he always referred to +trunks of goods in terms of people's first names—girls for the feminine +stuff and men's for the masculine. But Edna and Grace weren't on your +list, were they?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Preston. "But that doesn't matter. Besides, didn't the two +trunks of goods arrive?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they came in a couple of weeks later."</p> + +<p>"Before Mrs. Vaughan came to town?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, some time before she arrived."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I thought so," was Preston's reply, and, thanking the girl, he wandered +back to the hotel—convinced that he had solved at least one of the +mysteries, the question of what Gerard did with his surplus "bankrupt +stock." It was evidently packed in trunks and shipped to distant points, +to be forwarded by the Vaughan woman upon instructions from Gerard +himself. The wires he had torn up were merely confirmatory messages, +sent so that he would have the necessary information before making a +getaway.</p> + +<p>"Clever scheme, all right," was Hal's mental comment. "Now the next +point is to find some town in the Southwest where a new store has been +opened within the past two months."</p> + +<p>That night the telegraph office at Mount Clemens did more business than +it had had for the past year. Wires, under the government frank, went +out to every town on the Atchinson, Topeka & Santa Fé and to a number of +adjacent cities. In each case the message was the same:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Wire name of any new clothing store opened within past two +months. Also description of proprietor. Urgent.</p> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Preston</span>,<span class="gap"> </span><span class="gap"> </span><br /> +U. S. P. I. S.<br /> +</div></blockquote> + +<p>Fourteen chiefs of police replied within the next forty-eight hours, but +of these only two—Leavenworth and Fort Worth—contained descriptions +which tallied with that of Henry Gerard.</p> + +<p>So, to facilitate matters, Preston sent another wire:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Has proprietor mentioned in yesterday's wire a wife or woman +friend who keeps white mice as pets?</p></blockquote> + +<p>Fort Worth replied facetiously that the owner of the new store there was +married, but that his wife had a cat—which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> might account for the +absence of the mice. Leavenworth, however, came back with:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Yes, Mrs. Noble, wife of owner of Outlet Store, has white +mice for pets. Why?</p> + +<p>Never mind reason [Preston replied]. Watch Noble and wife +until I arrive. Leaving to-day.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Ten minutes after reaching Leavenworth Preston was ensconced in the +office of the chief of police, outlining the reason for his visit.</p> + +<p>"I'm certain that Noble is the man you want," said the chief, when Hal +had finished. "He came here some six weeks or more ago and at once +leased a store, which he opened a few days later. The description fits +him to a T, except for the fact that he's evidently dispensed with the +mustache. The Vaughan woman is posing as his wife and they've rented a +house on the outskirts of town. What do you want me to do? Nab 'em right +away?"</p> + +<p>"No," directed the operative. "I'd rather attend to that myself, if you +don't object. After trailing them this far, I'd like to go through with +it. You might have some men handy, though, in case there's any fuss."</p> + +<p>Just as Mr. and Mrs. C. K. Noble were sitting down to dinner there was a +ring at their front-door bell and Noble went to see who it was.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to speak to Mr. H. Gordon Fowler," said Preston, his hand +resting carelessly in the side pocket of his coat.</p> + +<p>"No Mr. Fowler lives here," was the growling reply from the inside.</p> + +<p>"Then Mr. W. C. Evans or Mr. Henry Gerard will do!" snapped the +operative, throwing his shoulder against the partly opened door. +Noble—or Fowler, as he was afterward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> known—stepped aside as Hal +plunged through, and then slammed the door behind him.</p> + +<p>"Get him, Anna!" he called, throwing the safety bolt into position.</p> + +<p>The next thing that Preston knew, a pair of arms, bare and feminine but +strong as iron, had seized him around the waist and he was in imminent +danger of being bested by a woman. With a heave and a wriggling twist he +broke the hold and turned, just in time to see Fowler snatch a revolver +from a desk on the opposite side of the room and raise it into position. +Without an instant's hesitation he leaped to one side, dropped his hand +into his coat pocket, and fired. Evidently the bullet took effect, for +the man across the room dropped his gun, spun clean around and then sank +to the floor. As he did so, however, the woman hurled a heavy vase +directly at Preston's head and the operative sank unconscious.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Well, go on!" I snapped, when Quinn paused. "You sound like a serial +story—to be continued in our next. What happened then?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—beyond the fact that three policemen broke in some ten seconds +after Hal fired, grabbed Mrs. Vaughan or whatever her name was, and kept +her from beating Hal to death, as she certainly would have done in +another minute. Fowler wasn't badly hurt. In fact, both of them stood +trial the next spring—Fowler drawing six years and Anna Vaughan one. +Incidentally, they sent 'em back to Leavenworth to do time and, as a +great concession, allowed the woman to take two of her white mice with +her. I managed to get one of the other four, and, when it died, had it +stuffed as a memento of a puzzling case well solved.</p> + +<p>"It's a hobby of mine—keeping these relics. That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> hatchet, for +example.... Remind me to tell you about it some time. The mice were +responsible for finding one man in fifty million—which is something of +a job in itself—but the hatchet figured in an even more exciting +affair...."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> + +<h3>WAH LEE AND THE FLOWER OF HEAVEN</h3> + + +<p>"Yes, there's quite a story attached to that," remarked Bill Quinn one +evening as the conversation first lagged and then drifted away into +silence. We were seated in his den at the time—the "library" which he +had ornamented with relics of a score or more of cases in which the +various governmental detective services had distinguished +themselves—and I came to with a start.</p> + +<p>"What?" I exclaimed. "Story in what?"</p> + +<p>"In that hatchet—the one on the wall there that you were speculating +about. It didn't take a psychological sleuth to follow your eyes and +read the look of speculation in them. That's a trick that a 'sparrow +cop' could pull!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, suppose you pay the penalty for your wisdom—and spin the +yarn," I retorted, none the less glad of the opportunity to hear the +facts behind the sinister red stain which appeared on the blade of the +Chinese weapon, for I knew that Quinn could give them to me if he +wished.</p> + +<p>"Frankly, I don't know the full history of the hatchet," came the answer +from the other side of the fireplace. "Possibly it goes back to the Ming +dynasty—whenever that was—or possibly it was purchased from a +mail-order house in Chicago. Chop suey isn't the only Chinese article +made in this country, you know. But my interest in it commenced with the +night when Ezra Marks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"However, let's start at the beginning."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Marks [continued the former operative] was, as you probably recall, one +of the best men ever connected with the Customs Service. It was he who +solved the biggest diamond-smuggling case on record, and he was also +responsible for the discovery of the manner in which thirty thousand +yards of very valuable silk was being run into the country every year +without visiting the custom office. That's a piece of the silk up there, +over the picture of Mrs. Armitage....</p> + +<p>It wasn't many months before the affair of the Dillingham diamonds that +official Washington in general and the offices of the Customs Service in +particular grew quite excited over the fact that a lot of opium was +finding its way into California. Of course, there's always a fair amount +of "hop" on the market, provided you know where to look for it, and the +government has about as much chance of keeping it out altogether as it +has of breaking up the trade in moonshine whisky. The mountaineer is +going to have his "licker" and the Chink is going to have his dope—no +matter what you do. But it's up to the Internal Revenue Bureau and the +Customs Service to see that neither one arrives in wholesale quantities. +And that was just what was happening on the Coast.</p> + +<p>In fact, it was coming in so fast that the price was dropping every day +and the California authorities fairly burned up the wires 'cross +continent with their howls for help.</p> + +<p>At that time Marks—Ezra by name and "E. Z." by nickname—was +comparatively a new member of the force. He had rendered valuable +service in Boston, however, and the chief sent for him and put the whole +thing in his hands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get out to San Diego as quickly as you know how," snapped the chief, +tossing over a sheaf of yellow telegraph slips. "There's all the +information we have, and apparently you won't get much more out +there—unless you dig it up for yourself. All they seem to know is that +the stuff is coming in by the carload and is being peddled in all the +hop joints at a lower price than ever before. It's up to you to get the +details. Any help you need will be supplied from the San Francisco +office, but my advice is to play a lone hand—you're likely to get +further than if you have a gang with you all the time."</p> + +<p>"That's my idear, Chief," drawled Ezra, who hailed from Vermont and had +all the New Englander's affection for single-handed effort, not because +he had the least objection to sharing the glory, but simply because he +considered it the most efficient way to work. "I'll get right out there +and see how the land lays."</p> + +<p>"Needn't bother to report until you discover something worth while," +added the chief. "I'll know that you're on the job and the farther you +keep away from headquarters the less suspicion you're likely to arouse."</p> + +<p>This was the reason that, beyond the fact they knew that an operative +named Marks had been sent from Washington to look into the opium matter, +the government agents on the Coast were completely in the dark as to the +way in which the affair was being handled. In fact, the chief himself +was pretty well worried when two months slipped by without a word from +Ezra....</p> + +<p>But the big, raw-boned Yankee was having troubles of his own. Likewise, +he took his instructions very seriously and didn't see the least reason +for informing Washington of the very patent fact that he had gotten +nowhere and found out nothing.</p> + +<p>"They know where they can reach me," he argued to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> himself one night, +about the time that the chief began to wonder if his man were floating +around the bay with a piece of Chinese rope about his neck. "Unless I +get a wire they won't hear anything until I have at least a line on this +gang."</p> + +<p>Then, on going over the evidence which he had collected during the weeks +that he had been in San Diego, he found that there was extremely little +of it. Discreet questioning had developed the fact, which he already +knew, that opium was plentiful all along the Coast, and that, +presumably, it was supplied from a point in the south of the state. But +all his efforts to locate the source of the drug brought him up against +a blank wall.</p> + +<p>In order to conduct his investigations with a minimum of suspicion, +Marks had elected to enter San Diego in the guise of a derelict—a +character which he had played to such perfection that two weeks after he +arrived he found himself in court on the charge of vagrancy. Only the +fact that the presiding magistrate did not believe in sentencing first +offenders saved him from ten days in the workhouse, an opportunity which +he was rather sorry to miss because he figured that he might pick up +some valuable leads from the opium addicts among his fellow prisoners.</p> + +<p>The only new point which he had developed during his stay in the +underworld was that some one named Sprague, presumably an American, was +the brains of the opium ring and had perfected the entire plan. But who +Sprague was or where he might be found were matters which were kept in +very watchful secrecy.</p> + +<p>"I give it up," muttered the operative, shrugging his arms into a +threadbare coat and shambling out of the disreputable rooming house +which passed for home. "Work doesn't seem to get me anywhere. Guess I'll +have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> to trust to luck," and he wandered out for his nightly stroll +through the Chinese quarter, hoping against hope that something would +happen.</p> + +<p>It did—in bunches!</p> + +<p>Possibly it was luck, possibly it was fate—which, after all, is only +another name for luck—that brought him into an especially unsavory +portion of the city shortly after midnight.</p> + +<p>He had wandered along for three hours or more, with no objective in view +save occasional visits to dives where he was known, when he heard +something which caused him to whirl and automatically reach for his hip +pocket. It was the cry of a woman, shrill and clear—the cry of a woman +in mortal danger!</p> + +<p>It had only sounded once, but there was a peculiar muffled quality at +the end of the note, suggestive of a hand or a gag having been placed +over the woman's mouth. Then—silence, so still as to be almost +oppressive.</p> + +<p>Puzzled, Marks stood stock still and waited. So far as he could remember +that was the first time that he had heard anything of the kind in +Chinatown. He knew that there were women there, but they were kept well +in the background and, apparently, were content with their lot. The +woman who had screamed, however, was in danger of her life. Behind one +of those flimsy walls some drama was being enacted in defiance of the +law—something was being done which meant danger of the most deadly kind +to him who dared to interfere.</p> + +<p>For a full minute Marks weighed the importance of his official mission +against his sense of humanity. Should he take a chance on losing his +prey merely to try to save a woman's life? Should he attempt to find the +house from which the scream had come and force the door? Should he....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the question was solved for him in a manner even more startling than +the cry in the night.</p> + +<p>While he was still debating the door of a house directly in front of him +opened wide and a blinding glare of light spread fanwise into the +street. Across this there shot the figure of what Marks at first took to +be a man—a figure attired in a long, heavily embroidered jacket and +silken trousers. As it neared him, however, the operative sensed that it +was a woman, and an instant later he knew that it was the woman whose +stifled scream had halted him only a moment before.</p> + +<p>Straight toward Marks she came and, close behind her—their faces set in +a look of deadly implacable rage—raced two large Chinamen.</p> + +<p>Probably realizing that she stood no chance of escape in the open +street, the woman darted behind Marks and prepared to dodge her +pursuers. As she did so the operative caught her panting appeal: "Save +me! For the sake of the God, save me!"</p> + +<p>That was all that was necessary. Ezra sensed in an instant the fact that +he had become embroiled in what bade fair to be a tragedy and braced +himself for action. He knew that he had no chance for holding off both +men, particularly as he did not care to precipitate gun play, but there +was the hope that he might divert them until the girl escaped.</p> + +<p>As the first of the two men leaped toward him, Marks swung straight for +his jaw, but his assailant ducked with what was almost professional +rapidity and the blow was only a glancing one. Before the operative had +time to get set the other man was upon him and, in utter silence save +for their labored breathing and dull thuds as blows went home, they +fought their way back to the far side of the street. As he retreated, +Marks became conscious that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> instead of making her escape, the girl was +still behind him. The reason for this became apparent when the larger of +the Chinamen suddenly raised his arm and the light from the open doorway +glinted on the blade of a murderous short-handled axe—the favorite +weapon of Tong warfare. Straight for his head the blade descended, but +the girl's arm, thrust out of the darkness behind him, diverted the blow +and the hatchet fairly whistled as it passed within an inch of his body.</p> + +<p>Realizing that his only hope of safety lay in reaching the opposite side +of the sidewalk, where he would be able to fight with his back against +the wall, Marks resumed his retreat, his arms moving like flails, his +fists crashing home blows that lost much of their power by reason of the +heavily padded jackets of his opponents. Finally, after seconds that +seemed like hours, one of his blows found the jaw of the man nearest +him, and Marks wheeled to set himself for the onrush of the other—the +man with the hatchet.</p> + +<p>But just at that moment his foot struck the uneven curbing and threw him +off his balance. He was conscious of an arc of light as the blade sang +through the air; he heard a high, half-muffled cry from the girl beside +him; and he remembered trying to throw himself out of the way of the +hatchet. Then there was a stinging, smarting pain in the side of his +head and in his left shoulder—followed by the blackness of oblivion.</p> + +<p>From somewhere, apparently a long distance off, there came a voice which +brought back at least a part of the operative's fast failing +consciousness, a voice which called a name vaguely familiar to him:</p> + +<p>"Sprague! Sprague!"</p> + +<p>"Sprague?" muttered Marks, trying to collect himself. +"Who—is—Sprague?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, as he put it later, he "went off."</p> + +<p>How much time elapsed before he came to he was unable to say, but +subsequent developments indicated that it was at least a day and a +night. He hadn't the slightest idea what had occurred meanwhile—he only +knew that he seemed to drift back to consciousness and a realization +that his head was splitting as if it would burst. Mechanically he +stretched his legs and tried to rise, only to find that what appeared to +be a wooden wall closed him in on all sides, leaving an opening only +directly above him.</p> + +<p>For an appreciable time he lay still, trying to collect his thoughts. He +recalled the fight in the open street, the intervention of the girl, the +fall over the curb and then—there was something that he couldn't +remember, something vital that had occurred just after he had tried to +dodge the hatchet blade.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he murmured, as memory returned, "it was some one calling for +'Sprague—Sprague!'"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" came a whispered command out of the darkness which surrounded +him, and a hand, soft and very evidently feminine, covered his mouth. +"You must not mention that name here. It means the death, instant and +terrible! They are discussing your fate in there now, but if they had +thought that you knew Wah Lee your life would not be worth a yen."</p> + +<p>"Wah Lee? Who is he?" Marks replied, his voice pitched in an undertone. +"I don't remember any Wah Lee. And who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Who I am does not matter," came out of the darkness, "but Wah Lee—he +is the master of life and death—the high priest of the Flower of +Heaven. Had it not been for him you would have been dead before this."</p> + +<p>"But I thought—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That he desired your life? So he did—and does. But they have to plan +the way in which it is to be taken and the disposition which is to be +made of your body. That was what gave me my opportunity for binding up +your wound and watching for you to wake."</p> + +<p>In spite of himself Marks could not repress a slight shudder. So they +were saving him for the sacrifice, eh? They were going to keep him here +until their arrangements were complete and then make away with him, were +they?</p> + +<p>Moving cautiously, so as to avoid attracting attention, the operative +slipped his right hand toward his hip pocket, only to find that his +automatic was missing. As he settled back with a half moan, he felt +something cold slipped into the box beside him, and the girl's voice +whispered:</p> + +<p>"Your revolver. I secured it when they brought you in here. I thought +you might need it later. But be very careful. They must not suspect that +you have wakened."</p> + +<p>"I will," promised Marks, "but who are you? Why should you take such an +interest in me?"</p> + +<p>"You tried to save me from something that is worse than death," replied +the girl. "You failed, but it was not your fault. Could I do less than +to help you?"</p> + +<p>"But what was it you feared?"</p> + +<p>"Marriage! Marriage to the man I loathe above all others—the man who is +responsible for the opium that is drugging my people—the man who is +known as Wah Lee, but who is really an American." Here she hesitated for +a moment and then hissed:</p> + +<p>"Sprague!"</p> + +<p>"Sprague?" Marks echoed, sitting bolt upright. But the girl had gone, +swallowed up somewhere in the impenetrable darkness which filled the +room.</p> + +<p>His brain cleared by the realization that he had blundered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> into the +heart of the opium-runners' den, it took Ezra only a few seconds to +formulate a plan of action. The first thing, of course, was to get away. +But how could that be accomplished when he did not even know where he +was or anything about the house? The girl had said something about the +fact that "they were considering his fate." Who were "they" and where +were they?</p> + +<p>Obviously, the only way to find this out was to do a little scouting on +his own account, so, slowly and carefully, he raised himself clear of +the boxlike arrangement in which he had been placed and tried to figure +out his surroundings. His hand, groping over the side, came into almost +instant contact with the floor and he found it a simple matter to step +out into what appeared to be a cleared space in the center of a +comparatively large room. Then, curious as to the place where he had +been concealed, he felt the box from one end to the other. The sides +were about two feet high and slightly sloping, with an angle near the +head. In fact, both ends of the affair were narrower than the portion +which had been occupied by his shoulders. Piled up at either end of this +box were others, of the same shape and size. What could their purpose +be? Why the odd shape?</p> + +<p>Suddenly the solution of the mystery flashed across the operative's +mind—coffins! Coffins which appeared to be piled up on all sides of the +storeroom. Was this the warehouse for a Chinese undertaker or was it—</p> + +<p>One coffin over which he nearly tripped gave him the answer. It was +partly filled with cans, unlabeled and quite heavy—containers which +Marks felt certain were packed full of opium and smuggled in some manner +inside the coffins.</p> + +<p>Just as he arrived at this conclusion Marks' eye was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> caught by a tiny +streak of light filtering through the wall on the opposite side of the +room. Making his way carefully toward this, he found that the crack +presented a fairly complete view of an adjoining apartment in which +three Chinese, evidently of high degree, were sorting money and entering +accounts in large books.</p> + +<p>As he looked, a fourth figure entered the room—a man who caused him to +catch his breath and flatten himself against the wall, for he recognized +the larger of the two Chinamen who had attacked him the night before—or +whenever it was. This was the man to whom the girl had alluded as "Wah +Lee, High Priest of the Flower of Heaven"—which was merely another way +of saying that he had charge of the opium shipments.</p> + +<p>As he entered the others rose and remained standing until he had seated +himself. Then one of them commenced to speak in rapid, undistinguishable +Chinese. Before he had had time to pronounce more than a few words, +however, Wah Lee interrupted him with a command couched in English to: +"Cut that out! You know I don't understand that gibberish well enough to +follow you."</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon," replied the other. "I always forget. You are so like one +of us that, even in private, I find it hard to remember."</p> + +<p>Wah Lee said nothing, but, slipping off his silken jacket, settled back +at his ease. A moment later Marks was amazed to see him remove his +mandarin's cap, and with it came a wig of coal-black hair!</p> + +<p>For the first time the government agent realized what the girl had meant +when she intimated that Wah Lee and Sprague were one and the same—an +American who was masquerading as Chinese in order to further his +smuggling plans!</p> + +<p>"Word has just arrived," continued the man who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> first spoken, "that +the boat will be off Point Banda to-night. That will allow us to pick up +the coffins before daybreak and bury them until such time as the +American hounds are off their guard."</p> + +<p>"Yes," grunted Sprague, "and let's hope that that's soon. We must have +fifty thousand dollars' worth of the stuff cached on the other side of +the border and orders are coming in faster than we can fill them. I +think it would be best to run this cargo right in. We can stage a +funeral, if necessary, and avoid suspicion in that way. Wait a minute! +I've got a hunch! What about the bum we carried in here last night—the +one that tried to help Anita in her getaway?"</p> + +<p>"Anita?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my girl. I can't remember that rigmarole you people call her. +Anita's her name from now on."</p> + +<p>"He is in the next room, unconscious. Two of the men dumped him in one +of the empty coffins and let him stay there."</p> + +<p>"Good," chuckled Sprague. "We'll just let him remain—run him across the +border, and bring his body back in a big hearse. The coffin and the body +will be real, but there'll be enough cans of dope packed in and around +him and in the carriages of the 'mourners' to make us all rich. It's the +chance of a lifetime for a big play, because no one will ever suspect us +or even inquire into his identity."</p> + +<p>Behind the thin wall which separated him from the next room Marks +stiffened and his fingers wound themselves even more tightly around the +butt of his automatic. It is not given to many men to hear their death +sentence pronounced in a manner as dramatic and cold-blooded as were the +words which came from the outer apartment. By listening intently, Ezra +learned that the coup would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> be sprung sometime within the next few +hours, the conspirators feeling that it would not be safe to delay, as +the opium shipment was due before dawn.</p> + +<p>Moving silently and aided somewhat by the fact that his eyes had become +a little accustomed to the inky blackness, Marks made his way back to +the place where he had awakened. He knew that that was where they would +expect to find him and he also knew that this was the one place to +avoid. So he located the door and, finding it bolted from the outside, +placed himself where he would be at least partly sheltered when the +party entered.</p> + +<p>After what seemed to be an interminable time he finally heard a sound +from the hallway—the soft slip-slip of felt shoes approaching. Then the +bolt was withdrawn and the door opened, admitting the four men whom he +had seen in the other room, and behind them, carrying a lantern, came +the girl.</p> + +<p>Nerving himself for a supreme leap, Marks waited until all five visitors +were inside the room, and then started to slip through the open doorway. +But his movement attracted the attention of the man called Sprague and, +with a cry of warning, he wheeled and fired before the operative could +gain the safety of the hall. Knowing that his body, outlined against the +light from outside, would make an ideal target, Ezra dropped to the +floor and swung his automatic into action. As he did so the girl +extinguished the lantern with a single swift blow, leaving the room in +total blackness, save for the path made by the light in the hallway.</p> + +<p>For probably twenty seconds there wasn't a sound. Then Marks caught a +glimpse of a moving figure and fired, leaping to one side as he did so +in order to avoid the fusillade directed at the flash of his revolver. +By a cry from the other side of the room he knew that his shot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> had gone +home, and a moment later he had an opportunity to wing another of his +assailants, again drawing a volley of shots. The last shot in his clip +was fired with a prayer—but it evidently went home, for only silence, +punctuated by moans from the opposite side of the room, ensued.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"That night," concluded Quinn, "a big sailing vessel was met off Point +Banda and they found a full month's supply of opium aboard of her. A +search of Lower California, near the border, also disclosed a burying +ground with many of the graves packed with cans of the drug. The raid, +of course, was a violation of Mexican neutrality—but they got away with +it."</p> + +<p>"The girl?" I cut in. "What became of her?"</p> + +<p>"When the police reached the house a few moments after Marks had fired +the last shot, they found that Sprague was dead with one of Ezra's +bullets through his brain. The three Chinamen were wounded, but not +fatally. The girl, however, was huddled in a corner, dead. No one ever +discovered whether she stopped one of the bullets from Marks's revolver +or whether she was killed by Sprague's men as a penalty for putting out +the lantern. Undoubtedly, that saved Ezra's life—which was the reason +that he saw that she was given a decent funeral and an adequate memorial +erected over her grave.</p> + +<p>"He also kept her jacket as a memento of the affair, turning the hatchet +over to me for my collection. Under it you will find a copy of the wire +he sent the chief."</p> + +<p>Curious, I went over and read the yellow slip framed beneath the weapon:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Opium smuggled in coffins. American, at head of ring, dead. +Gang broken up. Opium seized. What next?</p> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Marks.</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p></blockquote> + +<p>"Didn't wait long for another assignment, did he?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"No," was the response. "When you're working for Uncle Sam you come to +find that excitement is about the only thing that keeps your nerves +quiet. Sometimes, as in Marks's case, it's the thrill of the actual +combat. But more often it's the search for a tangible clue—the groping +in the dark for something you know exists but which you can't lay your +hands on. That was the trouble with the Cheney case...."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> + +<h3>THE MAN WITH THREE WIVES</h3> + + +<p>One of the first things to strike the eye of the visitor who enters the +library-den of William J. Quinn—known to his friends and former +associates in the United States Secret Service as "Bill"—is a frame +which stands upon the mantel and contains the photographs of three +exceptionally pretty women.</p> + +<p>Anyone who doesn't know that this room is consecrated to relics of the +exploits of the various governmental detective services might be +pardoned for supposing that the three pictures in the single frame are +photographs of relatives. Only closer inspection will reveal the fact +that beneath them appears a transcript from several pages of a certain +book of records—the original of which is kept at the New York City +Hall.</p> + +<p>These pages state that....</p> + +<p>But suppose we let Quinn tell the story, just as he told it one cold +November night while the wind was whistling outside and the cheery +warmth of the fire made things extremely snug within.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Secret Service men [said Quinn] divide all of their cases into two +classes—those which call for quick action and plenty of it and those +which demand a great deal of thought and only an hour or so of actual +physical work. Your typical operative—Allison, who was responsible for +solving the poison-pen puzzle, for example, or Hal Preston,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> who +penetrated the mystery surrounding the murder of Montgomery Marshall—is +essentially a man of action. He likes to tackle a job and get it over +with. It doesn't make any difference if he has to round up a half dozen +counterfeiters at the point of a single revolver—as Tommy Callahan once +did—or break up a gang of train robbers who have sworn never to be +taken alive. As long as he has plenty of thrills and excitement, as long +as he is able to get some joy out of life, he doesn't give a hang for +the risk. That's his business and he loves it.</p> + +<p>But it's the long-drawn-out cases which he has to ponder over and +consider from a score of angles that, in the vernacular of vaudeville, +capture his Angora. Give him an assignment where he can trail his man +for a day or two, get the lay of the land, and then drop on the bunch +like a ton o' brick and everything's fine. Give him one of the other +kind and—well, he's just about as happy as Guy Randall was when they +turned him loose with instructions to get something on Carl Cheney.</p> + +<p>Remember during the early days of the war when the papers were full of +stories from New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Milwaukee and points west +about gatherings of pro-German sympathizers who were determined to aid +the Fatherland? Theoretically, we were neutral at that time and these +people had all the scope they wanted. They did not confine themselves to +talk, however, but laid several plans which were destined to annoy the +government and to keep several hundred operatives busy defeating +them—for they were aimed directly at our policy of neutrality.</p> + +<p>As a campaign fund to assure the success of these operations, the German +sympathizers raised not less than sixteen million dollars—a sum which +naturally excited the cupidity not only of certain individuals within +their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> own ranks, but also of persons on the outside—men who were +accustomed to live by their wits and who saw in this gigantic collection +the opportunity of a lifetime.</p> + +<p>When you consider that you can hire a New York gangster to commit murder +for a couple of hundred dollars—and the "union scale" has been known to +be even lower—it's no wonder that the mere mention of sixteen million +dollars caused many a crook of international reputation to figure how he +could divert at least a part of this to his own bank account. That's the +way, as it afterward turned out, that Carl Cheney looked at it.</p> + +<p>Cheney had rubbed elbows with the police on several occasions prior to +nineteen fourteen. It was suspected that he had been mixed up in a +number of exceptionally clever smuggling schemes and that he had had a +finger in one or two operations which came perilously close to +blackmail. But no one had ever been able to get anything on him. He was +the original Finnigin—"In agin, gone agin." By the time the plan came +to a successful conclusion all that remained of "Count Carl's" +connection with it was a vague and distinctly nebulous shadow—and you +simply can't arrest shadows, no matter how hard you try.</p> + +<p>The New York police were the first to tip Washington off to the fact +that Cheney, who had dropped his aristocratic alias for the time being, +was back in this country and had been seen in the company of a number of +prominent members of a certain German-American club which wasn't in any +too good repute with the Department of Justice by reason of the efforts +of some of its members to destroy the neutral stand of the nation.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Have no indications of what Cheney is doing [the report +admitted], but it will be well to trail him. Apparently he +has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> some connection, officially or unofficially, with +Berlin. Advise what action you wish us to take.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Whereupon the chief wired back:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Operative assigned to Cheney case leaves to-night. Meanwhile +please watch.</p></blockquote> + +<p>It wasn't until after the wire had been sent that Guy Randall was +summoned to the inner sanctum of the Secret Service and informed that he +had been elected to trail the elusive suspect and find out what he was +up to.</p> + +<p>"So far as our records show," stated the chief, "no one has ever been +able to catch this Cheney person in the act of departing from the +straight and narrow path. However, that's a matter of the past. What +we've got to find out is what he is planning now—why he is in New York +and why he has attached himself to the pro-German element which has all +kinds of wild schemes up its sleeve."</p> + +<p>"And I'm the one who's got to handle it?" inquired Guy, with a grimace.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," grinned the chief. "Oh, I know it doesn't look like much of +a job and I grant you that the thrill element will probably be lacking. +But you can't draw a snap every time. All that's asked is that you get +something on Cheney—something which will withstand the assaults of the +lawyers he will undoubtedly hire the minute we lay hands on him. +Therefore you've got to be mighty careful to have the right dope. If +you're satisfied that he's doing nothing out of the way, don't hesitate +to say so. But I don't expect that your report will clear him, for, from +what we already know of the gentleman, he's more likely to be implicated +in some plan aimed directly at a violation of neutrality, and it's +essential<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> that we find out what that is before we take any radical +step."</p> + +<p>"What do you know about Cheney?" was Randall's next question, followed +by an explanation from the chief that the "count" had been suspected in +a number of cases and had barely been able to escape in time.</p> + +<p>"But," added the head of the Secret Service, "he did escape. And that's +what we have to prevent this time. He's a fast worker and a clever +one—which means that you've got to keep continually after him. Call in +all the help you need, but if you take my advice you'll handle the case +alone. You're apt to get a lot further that way."</p> + +<p>Agreeing that this was the best method to pursue, Randall caught the +midnight train for New York and went at once to police headquarters, +where he requested a full description of Cheney's previous activities.</p> + +<p>"You're asking for something what ain't," he was informed, +ungrammatically, but truthfully. "We've never been able to get a thing +on the count, though we're dead certain that he had a finger in several +crooked plays. The Latimer letters were never directly traced to him, +but it's a cinch that he had something to do with their preparation, +just as he had with the blackmailing of old man Branchfield and the +smuggling of the van Husen emeralds. You remember that case, don't you? +The one where the stones were concealed in a life preserver and they +staged a 'man overboard' stunt just as the ship came into the harbor. +Nobody ever got the stones or proved that they were actually +smuggled—but the count happened to be on the ship at the time, just as +he 'happened' to be in Paris when they were sold. We didn't even dare +arrest him, which accounts for the fact that his photograph doesn't +ornament the Rogues' Gallery."</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the idea of trailing him, then?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Just to find out what he is doing. What d'ye call those birds that fly +around at sea just before a gale breaks—stormy petrels? That's the +count! He's a stormy petrel of crookedness. Something goes wrong every +time he hits a town—or, rather, just after he leaves, for he's too +clever to stick around too long. The question now is, What's this +particular storm and when is it goin' to break?"</p> + +<p>"Fine job to turn me loose on," grumbled Randall.</p> + +<p>"It is that," laughed the captain who was dispensing information. "But +you can never tell what you'll run into, me boy. Why I remember once—"</p> + +<p>Randall, however, was out of the office before the official had gotten +well started on his reminiscences. He figured that he had already had +too much of a grouch to listen patiently to some long-winded story dug +out of the musty archives of police history and he made his way at once +to the hotel where Carl Cheney was registered, flaunting his own name in +front of the police whom he must have known were watching him.</p> + +<p>Neither the house detective nor the plain-clothes man who had been +delegated to trail Cheney could add anything of interest to the little +that Randall already knew. The "count," they said, had conducted himself +in a most circumspect manner and had not been actually seen in +conference with any of the Germans with whom he was supposed to be in +league.</p> + +<p>"He's too slick for that," added the man from the Central Office. +"Whenever he's got a conference on he goes up to the Club and you can't +get in there with anything less than a battering ram and raiding squad. +There's no chance to plant a dictaphone, and how else are you going to +get the information?"</p> + +<p>"What does he do at other times?" countered Guy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> preferring not to +reply to the former question until he had gotten a better line on the +case.</p> + +<p>"Behaves himself," was the laconic answer. "Takes a drive in the Park in +the afternoon, dines here or at one of the other hotels, goes to the +theater and usually finishes up with a little supper somewhere among the +white lights."</p> + +<p>"Any women in sight?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—two. A blond from the girl-show that's playin' at the +Knickerbocker and a red-head. Don't know who she is—but they're both +good lookers. No scandal, though. Everything appears to be on the +level—even the women."</p> + +<p>"Well," mused the government operative after a moment's silence, "I +guess I better get on the job. Probably means a long stretch of dull +work, but the sooner I get at it the sooner I'll get over it. Where is +Cheney now?"</p> + +<p>"Up in his room. Hasn't come down to breakfast yet. Yes. There he is +now. Just getting out of the elevator—headed toward the dinin' room," +and the plain-clothes man indicated the tall figure of a man about +forty, a man dressed in the height of fashion, with spats, a cane, and a +morning coat of the most correct cut. "Want me for anything?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing," said Randall, absently. "I'll pick him up now. You might +tell the chief to watch out for a hurry call from me—though I'm afraid +he won't get it."</p> + +<p>As events proved, Randall was dead right. The Central Office heard +nothing from him for several months, and even Washington received only +stereotyped reports indicative of what Cheney was doing—which wasn't +much.</p> + +<p>Shortly after the first of the year, Guy sent a wire to the chief, +asking to be relieved for a day or two in order that he might be free to +come to Washington. Sensing the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> fact that the operative had some plan +which he wished to discuss personally, the chief put another man on +Cheney's trail and instructed Randall to report at the Treasury +Department on the following morning.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" inquired the man at the head of the Service as Guy, +a little thinner than formerly and showing by the wrinkles about his +eyes the strain under which he was working, strolled into the office.</p> + +<p>"Nothing's the matter, Chief—and that's where the trouble lies. You +know I've never kicked about work, no matter how much of it I've had. +But this thing's beginning to get on my nerves. Cheney is planning some +coup. I'm dead certain of that. What it's all about, though, I haven't +the least idea. The plans are being laid in the German-American Club and +there's no chance of getting in there."</p> + +<p>"How about bribing one of the employees to leave?"</p> + +<p>"Can't be done. I've tried it—half a dozen times. They're all Germans +and, as such, in the organization. However, I have a plan. Strictly +speaking, it's outside the law, but that's why I wanted to talk things +over with you...."</p> + +<p>When Randall had finished outlining his plan the chief sat for a moment +in thought. Then, "Are you sure you can put it over?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Of course I can. It's done every other day, anyhow, by the cops +themselves. Why shouldn't we take a leaf out of their book?"</p> + +<p>"I know. But there's always the possibility of a diplomatic protest."</p> + +<p>"Not in this case, Chief. The man's only a waiter and, besides, before +the embassy has a chance to hear about it I'll have found out what I +want to know. Then, if they want to raise a row, let 'em."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>The upshot of the matter was that, about a week later, Franz Heilman, a +waiter employed at the German-American Club in New York, was arrested +one night and haled into Night Court on a charge of carrying concealed +weapons—a serious offense under the Sullivan Act. In vain he protested +that he had never carried a pistol in his life. Patrolman Flaherty, who +had made the arrest, produced the weapon which he claimed to have found +in Heilman's possession and the prisoner was held for trial.</p> + +<p>Bright and early the next morning Randall, disguised by a mustache which +he had trained for just such an occasion and bearing a carefully +falsified letter from a German brewer in Milwaukee, presented himself at +the employee's entrance of the German-American Club and asked for the +steward. To that individual he told his story—how he had tried to get +back to the Fatherland and had failed, how he had been out of work for +nearly a month, and how he would like to secure employment of some kind +at the Club where he would at least be among friends.</p> + +<p>After a thorough examination of the credentials of the supposed +German—who had explained his accent by the statement that he had been +brought to the United States when very young and had been raised in +Wisconsin—the steward informed him that there was a temporary vacancy +in the Club staff which he could fill until Heilman returned.</p> + +<p>"The duties," the steward added, "are very light and the pay, while not +large, will enable you to lay by a little something toward your return +trip to Germany."</p> + +<p>Knowing that his time was limited, Randall determined to let nothing +stand in the way of his hearing all that went on in the room where +Cheney and his associates held their conferences. It was the work of +only a few moments to bore holes in the door which connected this room +with an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> unused coat closet—plugging up the holes with corks stained to +simulate the wood itself—and the instant the conference was on the new +waiter disappeared.</p> + +<p>An hour later he slipped out of the side entrance to the Club and the +steward is probably wondering to this day what became of him. Had he +been able to listen in on the private wire which connected the New York +office of the Secret Service with headquarters at Washington, he would +have had the key to the mystery.</p> + +<p>"Chief," reported Randall, "I've got the whole thing. There's a plot on +foot to raise one hundred and fifty thousand German reservists—men +already in this country—mobilizing them in four divisions, with six +sections. The first two divisions are to assemble at Silvercreek, +Michigan—the first one seizing the Welland Canal and the second +capturing Wind Mill Point, Ontario. The third is to meet at Wilson, N. +Y., and will march on Port Hope. The fourth will go from Watertown, N. +Y., to Kingston, Ontario, while the fifth will assemble somewhere near +Detroit and proceed toward Windsor. The sixth will stage an attack on +Ottawa, operating from Cornwall.</p> + +<p>"They've got their plans all laid for the coup, and Cheney reported +to-day that he intends to purchase some eighty-five boats to carry the +invading force into the Dominion. The only thing that's delaying the +game is the question of provisions for the army. Cheney's holding out +for another advance—from what I gathered he's already received a +lot—and claims that he will be powerless unless he gets it. I didn't +stay to listen to the argument, for I figured that I'd better leave +while the leaving was good."</p> + +<p>The reply that came back from Washington was rather startling to the +operative, who expected only commendation and the statement that his +task was completed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What evidence have you that this invasion is planned?"</p> + +<p>"None besides what I heard through holes which I bored in one of the +doors of the German-American Club this morning."</p> + +<p>"That won't stand in court! We don't dare to arrest this man Cheney on +that. You've got to get something on him."</p> + +<p>"Plant it?"</p> + +<p>"No! Get it straight. And we can't wait for this expedition to start, +either. That would be taking too much of a chance. It's up to you to do +a little speedy work in the research line. Dig back into the count's +past and find something on which we can hold him, for he's very +evidently the brains of the organization, in spite of the fact that he +probably is working only for what he can get of that fund that the +Germans have raised. I understand that it's sixteen million dollars and +that's enough to tempt better men than Cheney. Now go to it, and +remember—you've got to work fast!"</p> + +<p>Disappointed, chagrined by the air of finality with which the receiver +at the Washington end of the line was hung up, Randall wandered out of +the New York office with a scowl on his face and deep lines of thought +between his eyes. If he hadn't been raised in the school which holds +that a man's only irretrievable mistake is to quit under fire, he'd have +thrown up his job right there and let some one else tackle the work of +landing the count. But he had to admit that the chief was right and, +besides, there was every reason to suppose that grave issues hung in the +balance. The invasion of Canada meant the overthrow of American +neutrality, the failure of the plans which the President and the State +Department had so carefully laid.</p> + +<p>Cheney was the crux of the whole situation. Once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> held on a charge that +could be proved in court, the plot would fall through for want of a +capable leader—for the operative had learned enough during his hour in +the cloak-room to know that "the count" was the mainspring of the whole +movement, despite the fact that he undoubtedly expected to reap a rich +financial harvest for himself.</p> + +<p>Selecting a seat on the top of a Fifth Avenue bus, Randall resigned +himself to a consideration of the problem.</p> + +<p>"The whole thing," he figured, "simmers down to Cheney himself. In its +ramifications, of course, it's a question of peace or war—but in +reality it's a matter of landing a crook by legitimate means. I can't +plant a gun on him, like they did on Heilman, and there's mighty little +chance of connecting him with the Branchfield case or the van Husen +emeralds at this late date. His conduct around town has certainly been +blameless enough. Not even any women to speak of. Wait a minute, though! +There were two. The <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'blonde'">blond</ins> from the Knickerbocker and that red-haired +dame. He's still chasing around with the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'blonde'">blond</ins>—but what's become of +Miss Red-head?"</p> + +<p>This train of thought had possibilities. If the girl had been cast +aside, it was probable that she would have no objection to telling what +she knew—particularly as the color of her hair hinted at the possession +of what the owner would call "temperament," while the rest of the world +forgets to add the last syllable.</p> + +<p>It didn't take long to locate the owner of the fiery tresses. A quick +round-up of the head waiters at the cafés which Cheney frequented, a +taxi trip to Washington Square and another to the section above Columbus +Circle, and Randall found that the red-haired beauty was known as Olga +Brainerd, an artist's model, whose face had appeared upon the cover of +practically every popular publication<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> in the country. She had been out +of town for the past two months, he learned, but had just returned and +had taken an apartment in a section of the city which indicated the +possession of considerable capital.</p> + +<p>"Miss Brainerd," said Randall, when he was face to face with the Titian +beauty in the drawing-room of her suite, "I came with a message from +your friend, Carl Cheney."</p> + +<p>Here he paused and watched her expression very closely. As he had hoped, +the girl was unable to master her feelings. Rage and hate wrote +themselves large across her face and her voice fairly snapped as she +started to reply. Randall, however, interrupted her with a smile and the +statement:</p> + +<p>"That's enough! I'm going to lay my cards face up on the table. I am a +Secret Service operative seeking information about Cheney. Here is my +badge, merely to prove that I'm telling the truth. We have reason to +believe that 'the Count,' as he is called, is mixed up with a pro-German +plot which, if successful, would imperil the peace of the country. Can +you tell us anything about him?"</p> + +<p>"Can I?" echoed the girl. "The beast! He promised to marry me, more than +two months ago, and then got infatuated with some blond chit of a chorus +girl. Just because I lost my head and showed him a letter I had +received—a letter warning me against him—he flew into a rage and +threatened.... Well, never mind what he did say. The upshot of the +affair was that he sent me out of town and gave me enough money to last +me some time. But he'll pay for his insults!"</p> + +<p>"Have you the letter you received?" asked Randall, casually—as if it +meant little to him whether the girl produced it or not.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I kept it. Wait a moment and I'll get it for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> you." A few seconds +later she was back with a note, written in a feminine hand—a note which +read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>If you are wise you will ask the man who calls himself Carl +Cheney what he knows of Paul Weiss, of George Winters, and +Oscar Stanley. You might also inquire what has become of +Florence and Rose.</p> + +<div class="signature"> +(Signed) <span class="smcap">Amelia</span>.</div> +</blockquote> + +<p>Randall looked up with a puzzled expression. "What's all this about?" he +inquired. "Sounds like Greek to me."</p> + +<p>"To me, too," agreed the girl. "But it was enough to make Carl purple +with rage and, what's more, to separate him from several thousand +dollars."</p> + +<p>"Weiss, Winters, and Stanley," mused Guy. "Those might easily be +Cheney's former aliases. Florence, Rose, and Amelia? I wonder.... Come +on, girl, we're going to take a ride down to City Hall! I've got a +hunch!"</p> + +<p>Late that afternoon when Carl Cheney arrived at his hotel he was +surprised to find a young man awaiting him in his apartment—a man who +appeared to be perfectly at ease and who slipped over and locked the +door once the count was safely within the room.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" demanded Cheney. "By what right—"</p> + +<p>"It means," snapped Randall, "that the game's up!" Then, raising his +voice, he called, "Mrs. Weiss!" and a tall woman parted the curtains at +the other end of the room; "Mrs. Winters!" and another woman entered; +"Mrs. Stanley!" and a third came in. With his fingers still caressing +the butt of the automatic which nestled in his coat pocket, Randall +continued:</p> + +<p>"Cheney—or whatever your real name is—there won't be any invasion of +Canada. We know all about your plans—in fact, the arsenal on West +Houston Street is in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> possession of the police at this moment. It was a +good idea and undoubtedly you would have cleaned up on it—were it not +for the fact that I am under the far from painful necessity of arresting +you on a charge of bigamy—or would you call it 'trigamy'? The records +at City Hall gave you away, after one of these ladies had been kind +enough to provide us with a clue to the three aliases under which you +conducted your matrimonial operations.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Count. The Germans may need you worse than we do—but we +happen to have you!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> + +<h3>AFTER SEVEN YEARS</h3> + + +<p>Bill Quinn was disgusted. Some one, evidently afflicted with an +ingrowing sense of humor, had sent him the prospectus of a "school" +which professed to be able to teach budding aspirants the art of +becoming a successful detective for the sum of twenty-five dollars, and +Quinn couldn't appreciate the humor.</p> + +<p>"<i>How to Become a Detective—in Ten Lessons</i>," he snorted. "It only +takes one for the man who's got the right stuff in him, and the man that +hasn't better stay out of the game altogether."</p> + +<p>"Well," I retorted, anxious to stir up any kind of an argument that +might lead to one of Quinn's tales about the exploits of Uncle Sam's +sleuths, "just what does it take to make a detective?"</p> + +<p>It was a moment or two before Quinn replied. Then: "There are only three +qualities necessary," he replied. "Common sense, the power of +observation, and perseverance. Given these three, with possibly a dash +of luck thrown in for good measure, and you'll have a crime expert who +could stand the heroes of fiction on their heads.</p> + +<p>"Take Larry Simmons, for example. No one would ever have accused him of +having the qualifications of a detective—any more than they would have +suspected him of being one. But Larry drew a good-sized salary from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> the +Bureau of Pensions because he possessed the three qualities I mentioned. +He had the common sense of a physician, the observation of a trained +newspaper reporter, and the perseverance of a bulldog. Once he sunk his +teeth in a problem he never let loose—which was the reason that very +few people ever put anything over on the Pension Bureau as long as Larry +was on the job.</p> + +<p>"That cap up there," and Quinn pointed to a stained and dilapidated bit +of headgear which hung upon the wall of his den, "is a memento of one of +Simmons's cases. The man who bought it would tell you that I'm dead +right when I say that Larry was persevering. That's putting it mildly."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Quite a while back [continued Quinn, picking up the thread of his story] +there was a man out in Saint Joseph, Missouri, named Dave Holden. No one +appeared to know where he came from and, as he conducted himself quietly +and didn't mix in with his neighbors' affairs, no one cared very much.</p> + +<p>Holden hadn't been in town more than a couple of weeks when one of the +older inhabitants happened to inquire if he were any kin to "Old Dave +Holden," who had died only a year or two before.</p> + +<p>"No," said Holden, "I don't believe I am. My folks all came from Ohio +and I understand that this Holden was a Missourian."</p> + +<p>"That's right," agreed the other, "and a queer character, too. Guess he +was pretty nigh the only man that fought on the Union side in the Civil +War that didn't stick th' government for a pension. Had it comin' to +him, too, 'cause he was a captain when th' war ended. But he always said +he didn't consider that Uncle Sam owed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> him anything for doin' his duty. +Spite of th' protests of his friends, Dave wouldn't ever sign a pension +blank, either."</p> + +<p>A few more questions, carefully directed, gave Holden the history of his +namesake, and that night he lay awake trying to figure out whether the +plan which had popped into his head was safe. It promised some easy +money, but there was the element of risk to be considered.</p> + +<p>"After all," he concluded, "I won't be doing anything that isn't +strictly within the law. My name is David Holden—just as the old man's +was. The worst that they can do is to turn down the application. I won't +be committing forgery or anything of the kind. And maybe it'll slip +through—which would mean a pile of money, because they'll kick in with +all that accumulated during the past fifty years."</p> + +<p>So it was that, in the course of time, an application was filed at the +Bureau of Pensions in Washington for a pension due "David Holden" of +Saint Joseph, Missouri, who had fought in the Civil War with the rank of +captain. But, when the application had been sent over to the War +Department so that it might be compared with the records on file there, +it came back with the red-inked notation that "Capt. David Holden had +died two years before"—giving the precise date of his demise as +evidence.</p> + +<p>The moment that the document reached the desk of the Supervisor of +Pensions he pressed one of the little pearl buttons in front of him and +asked that Larry Simmons be sent in. When Larry arrived the chief handed +him the application without a word.</p> + +<p>"Right! I'll look into this," said Larry, folding the paper and slipping +it into the pocket of his coat.</p> + +<p>"Look into it?" echoed the supervisor. "You'll do more than that! You'll +locate this man Holden—or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> whatever his right name is—and see that he +gets all that's coming to him. There've been too many of these cases +lately. Apparently people think that all they have to do is to file an +application for a pension and then go off and spend the money. Catch the +first train for Saint Joe and wire me when you've landed your man. The +district attorney will attend to the rest of the matter."</p> + +<p>The location of David Holden, as Simmons found, was not the simplest of +jobs. The pension applicant, being comparatively a newcomer, was not +well known in town, and Simmons finally had to fall back upon the +expedient of watching the post-office box which Holden had given as his +address, framing a dummy letter so that the suspect might not think that +he was being watched.</p> + +<p>Holden, however, had rented the box for the sole purpose of receiving +mail from the Pension Bureau. He had given the number to no one else and +the fact that the box contained what appeared to be an advertisement +from a clothing store made him stop and wonder. By that time, however, +Simmons had him well in sight and followed him to the boarding-house on +the outskirts of the town where he was staying.</p> + +<p>That evening, while he was still wondering at the enterprise of a store +that could obtain a post-office box number from a government bureau at +Washington, the solution of the mystery came to him in a decidedly +unexpected manner. The house in which Holden was staying was +old-fashioned, one of the kind that are heated, theoretically at least, +by "registers," open gratings in the wall. Holden's room was directly +over the parlor on the first floor and the shaft which carried the hot +air made an excellent sound-transmitter.</p> + +<p>It so happened that Simmons, after having made a number of inquiries +around town about the original Dave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> Holden, called at the boarding +house that night to discover what the landlady knew about the other man +of the same name, who was seated in the room above.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, like a voice from nowhere, came the statement in a +high-pitched feminine voice: "I really don't know anything about him at +all. Mr. Holden came here about six weeks ago and asked me to take him +in to board. He seemed to be a very nice, quiet gentleman, who was +willing to pay his rent in advance. So I let him have one of the best +rooms in the house."</p> + +<p>At the mention of his name Holden listened intently. Who was inquiring +about him, and why?</p> + +<p>There was only a confused mumble—apparently a man's reply, pitched in a +low tone—and then the voice of the landlady again came clearly through +the register: </p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't do anything like that. Mr. +Holden is...."</p> + +<p>But that was all that the pension applicant waited for. Moving with the +rapidity of a frightened animal, he secured one or two articles of value +from his dresser, crammed a hat into his pocket, slipped on a raincoat, +and vaulted out of the window, alighting on the sloping roof of a shed +just below. Before he had quitted the room, however, he had caught the +words "arrest on a charge of attempting to obtain money under false +pretenses."</p> + +<p>Some two minutes later there was a knock on his door and a voice +demanded admittance. There was no reply. Again the demand, followed by a +rattling of the doorknob and a tentative shake of the door. In all, it +was probably less than five minutes after Larry Simmons had entered the +parlor before he had burst in the door of Holden's room. But the bird +had flown and the open window pointed to the direction of his flight.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately for the operative the night was dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> and the fugitive was +decidedly more familiar with the surrounding country than Larry was. By +the time he had secured the assistance of the police half an hour had +elapsed, and there weren't even any telltale footprints to show in which +direction the missing man had gone.</p> + +<p>"See that men are placed so as to guard the railroad station," Simmons +directed, "and pass the word up and down the line that a medium-sized +man, about thirty-five years of age, with black hair and a rather ruddy +complexion—a man wanted by the government on a charge of false +pretenses—is trying to make his escape. If anyone reports him, let me +know at once."</p> + +<p>That, under the circumstances, was really all that Larry could do. It +ought to be an easy matter to locate the fugitive, he figured, and it +would only be a question of a few days before he was safely in jail.</p> + +<p>Bright and early the next morning the operative was awakened by a +bell-boy who informed him that the chief of police would like to see +him.</p> + +<p>"Show him in," said Larry, fully expecting to see the chief enter with a +handcuffed prisoner. But the head of the police force came in alone, +carrying a bundle, which he gravely presented to Simmons.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" inquired the pension agent.</p> + +<p>"All that's left of your friend Holden," was the reply. "One of my men +reported late last night that he had heard a splash in the river as +though some one had jumped off the wharf, but he couldn't find out +anything more. To tell the truth, he didn't look very hard—because we +had our hands full with a robbery of Green's clothing store. Some one +broke in there and—"</p> + +<p>"Yes—but what about Holden?" Simmons interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Guess you'll have to drag the river for him," answered the chief. "We +found his coat and vest and raincoat on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> the dock this mornin', and on +top of them was this note, addressed to you."</p> + +<p>The note, as Larry found an instant later, read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>I'd rather die in the river than go to jail. Tell your boss +that he can pay two pensions now—one for each of the Dave +Holdens.</p></blockquote> + +<p>The signature, almost illegible, was that of "David Holden (Number +two)."</p> + +<p>"No doubt that your man heard the splash when Holden went overboard last +night?" inquired the operative.</p> + +<p>"Not the least in the world. He told me about it, but I didn't connect +it with the man you were after, and, besides, I was too busy right then +to give it much thought."</p> + +<p>"Any chance of recovering the body?"</p> + +<p>"Mighty little at this time of the year. The current's good and strong +an' the chances are that he won't turn up this side of the Mississippi, +if then. It was only by accident that we found his cap. It had lodged +under the dock and we fished it out less 'n half an hour ago—" and the +chief pointed to a water-soaked piece of cloth which Simmons recognized +as the one which Holden had been wearing the evening before.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't suppose there's anything more that we can do," admitted +Larry. "I'd like to have the river dragged as much as possible, though I +agree with you that the chances for recovering the body are very slim. +Will you look after that?"</p> + +<p>"Sure I will, and anything else you want done." The chief was nothing if +not obliging—a fact which Simmons incorporated in his official report, +which he filed a few days later, a report which stated that "David +Holden, wanted on a charge of attempting to obtain money under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> false +pretenses, had committed suicide by drowning rather than submit to +arrest."</p> + +<blockquote><p>The body has not been recovered [the report admitted], but +this is not to be considered unusual at this time of the year +when the current is very strong. The note left by the +fugitive is attached.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Back from Washington came the wire:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Better luck next time. Anyhow, Holden won't bother us again.</p></blockquote> + +<p>If this were a moving picture [Quinn continued, after a pause], there +would be a subtitle here announcing the fact that seven years are +supposed to elapse. There also probably would be a highly decorated +explanatory title informing the audience that "Uncle Sam Never Forgets +Nor Forgives"—a fact that is so perfectly true that it's a marvel that +people persist in trying to beat the government. Then the scene of the +film would shift to Seattle, Washington.</p> + +<p>They would have to cut back a little to make it clear that Larry Simmons +had, in the meantime, left the Pension Bureau and entered the employment +of the Post-office Department, being desirous of a little more +excitement and a few more thrills than his former job afforded. But he +was still working for Uncle Sam, and his memory—like that of his +employer—was long and tenacious.</p> + +<p>One of the minor cases which had been bothering the department for some +time past was that of a ring of fortune-tellers who, securing +information in devious ways, would pretend that it had come to them from +the spirit world and use it for purposes which closely approximated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +blackmail. Simmons, being in San Francisco at the time, was ordered to +proceed to Seattle and look into the matter.</p> + +<p>Posing as a gentleman of leisure with plenty of money and but little +care as to the way in which he spent it, it wasn't long before he was +steered into what appeared to be the very center of the ring—the +residence of a Madame Ahara, who professed to be able to read the stars, +commune with spirits, and otherwise obtain information of an occult +type. There Larry went through all the usual stages—palmistry, +spiritualism, and clairvoyance—and chuckled when he found, after his +third visit, that his pocket had been picked of a letter purporting to +contain the facts about an escapade in which he had been mixed up a few +years ago. The letter, of course, was a plant placed there for the sole +purpose of providing a lead for madame and her associates to follow. And +they weren't long in taking the tip.</p> + +<p>The very next afternoon the government agent received a telephone call +notifying him that madame had some news of great importance which she +desired to impart—information which had come to her from the other +world and in which she felt certain he would be interested.</p> + +<p>Larry asked if he might bring a friend with him, but the request—as he +had expected—was promptly refused. The would-be blackmailers were too +clever to allow first-hand evidence to be produced against them. They +wished to deal only with principals or, as madame informed him over the +phone, "the message was of such a nature that only he should hear it."</p> + +<p>"Very well," replied Simmons, "I'll be there at eleven this evening."</p> + +<p>It was not his purpose to force the issue at this time. In fact, he +planned to submit to the first demand for money<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> and trust to the +confidence which this would inspire to render the blackmailers less +cautious in the future. But something occurred which upset the entire +scheme and, for a time at least, threatened disaster to the Post-office +schemes.</p> + +<p>Thinking that it might be well to look the ground over before dark, +Larry strolled out to Madame Ahara's about five o'clock in the afternoon +and took up his position on the opposite side of the street, studying +the house from every angle. While he was standing there a man came +out—a man who was dressed in the height of fashion, but whose face was +somehow vaguely familiar. The tightly waxed mustache and the iron-gray +goatee seemed out of place, for Simmons felt that the last time he had +seen the man he had been clean shaven.</p> + +<p>"Where was it?" he thought, as he kept the man in sight, though on the +opposite side of the street. "New York? No. Washington? Hardly. Saint +Louis? No, it was somewhere where he was wearing a cap—a cap that was +water-stained and ... I've got it! In Saint Joseph! The man who +committed suicide the night I went to arrest him for attempting to +defraud the Pension Bureau! It's he, sure as shooting!"</p> + +<p>But just as Simmons started to cross the street the traffic cop raised +his arm, and when the apparently interminable stream of machines had +passed, the man with the mustache was nowhere to be seen. He had +probably slipped into one of the near-by office buildings. But which? +That was a question which worried Larry for a moment or two. Then he +came to the conclusion that there was no sense in trying to find his man +at this moment. The very fact that he was in Seattle was enough. The +police could find him with little difficulty.</p> + +<p>But what had Holden been doing at the clairvoyant's?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> Had he fallen into +the power of the ring or was it possible that he was one of the +blackmailers himself?</p> + +<p>The more Larry thought about the matter, the more he came to the +conclusion that here was an opportunity to kill two birds with a single +stone—to drive home at least the entering wedge of the campaign against +the clairvoyants and at the same time to land the man who had eluded him +seven years before.</p> + +<p>The plan which he finally evolved was daring, but he realized that the +element of time was essential. Holden must not be given another +opportunity to slip through the net.</p> + +<p>That night when Larry kept his appointment at madame's he saw to it that +a cordon of police was thrown around the entire block, with instructions +to allow no one to leave until after a prearranged signal.</p> + +<p>"Don't prevent anyone from coming into the house," Simmons directed, +"but see that not a soul gets away from it. Also, you might be on the +lookout for trouble. The crowd's apt to get nasty and we can't afford to +take chances with them."</p> + +<p>A tall dark-skinned man, attired in an Arabian burnoose and wearing a +turban, answered the ring at the door, precisely as Larry +anticipated—for the stage was always well set to impress visitors. +Madame herself never appeared in the richly decorated room where the +crystal-gazing séances were held, preferring to remain in the background +and to allow a girl, who went by the name of Yvette, to handle visitors, +the explanation being that "Madame receives the spirit messages and +transmits them to Yvette, her assistant."</p> + +<p>Simmons therefore knew that, instead of dealing with an older and +presumably more experienced woman, he would only have to handle a girl, +and it was upon this that he placed his principal reliance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + +<p>Everything went along strictly according to schedule. Yvette, seated on +the opposite side of a large crystal ball in which she read strange +messages from the other world—visions transmitted from the cellar by +means of a cleverly constructed series of mirrors—told the operative +everything that had been outlined in the letter taken from his pocket on +the preceding night, adding additional touches founded on facts which +Larry had been "careless" enough to let slip during his previous visits. +Then she concluded with a very thinly veiled threat of blackmail if the +visitor did not care to kick in with a certain sum of money.</p> + +<p>Larry listened to the whole palaver in silence, but his eyes were busy +trying to pierce the dim light in which the room was shrouded. So far as +he could see, the door through which he had entered formed the only +means of getting into the room—but there were a number of rugs and +draperies upon the walls, any one of which might easily mask a doorway.</p> + +<p>When the girl had finished, the operative leaned forward and hitched his +chair around so that he could speak in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"If you know what's good for you," he cautioned, "don't move! I've got +you covered, in the first place, and, secondly, there's a solid cordon +of police around this house! Careful—not a sound! I'm not after you. I +want the people who're behind you. Madame and her associates. This +blackmailing game has gone about far enough, but I'll see that you get +off with a suspended sentence if you do as I tell you. If not—" and the +very abruptness with which he stopped made the threat all the more +convincing.</p> + +<p>"What—what do you want me to do?" stammered the girl, her voice barely +audible.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Turn state's evidence and tip me off to everyone who's in on this +thing," was Larry's reply, couched in the lowest of tones. "There's not +a chance of escape for any of you, so you might as well do it and get it +over with. Besides that, I want to know where I can find a man with a +waxed mustache and iron-gray goatee who left this house at ten minutes +past five this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Madame!" exclaimed the girl. "Davidson!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—Madame and Davidson, if that's the name he goes by now. It was +Holden the last time I saw him."</p> + +<p>"He"—and the girl's voice was a mere breath—"he is madame!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is no Madame Ahara. Davidson runs the whole thing. He is—"</p> + +<p>But at that moment one of the rugs on the wall which Larry was facing +swung outward and a man sprang into the room, a man whose face was +purple with rage and who leaped sidewise as he saw Larry's hand snap an +automatic into view above the pedestal on which the crystal ball +reposed. In a flash Simmons recognized two things—his danger and the +fact that the man who had just entered was Holden, alias Davidson, +blackmailer and potential thief.</p> + +<p>Before the government agent had time to aim the head of the clairvoyant +ring fired. But his bullet, instead of striking Larry, shattered the +crystal ball into fragments and the room was plunged into total +darkness. In spite of the fact that he knew the shot would bring speedy +relief from outside the house, Simmons determined to capture his man +single-handed and alive. Half-leaping, half-falling from the chair in +which he had been seated, the operative sprang forward in an attempt to +nail his man while the latter was still dazed by the darkness. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> his +foot, catching in one of the thick rugs which carpeted the floor, +tripped him and he fell—a bullet from the other's revolver plowing +through the fleshy part of his arm.</p> + +<p>The flash, however, showed him the position of his adversary, and it was +the work of only a moment to slip forward and seize the blackmailer +around the waist, his right hand gripping the man's wrist and forcing it +upward so that he was powerless to use his revolver. For a full minute +they wrestled in the inky darkness, oblivious to the fact that the sound +of blows on the outer door indicated the arrival of reinforcements.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly Larry let go of the blackmailer's arm and, whirling him +rapidly around, secured a half nelson that threatened to dislocate his +neck.</p> + +<p>"Drop it!" he snarled. "Drop that gun before I wring your head off!" and +the muffled thud as the revolver struck the floor was the signal that +Holden had surrendered. A moment later the light in the center of the +room was snapped on and the police sergeant inquired if Larry needed any +assistance.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Simmons, grimly, "but you might lend me a pair of +bracelets. This bird got away from me once, some seven years ago, and +I'm not taking any more chances!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE POISON-PEN PUZZLE</h3> + + +<p>Beside the bookcase in the room which Bill Quinn likes to dignify by the +name of "library"—though it's only a den, ornamented with relics of +scores of cases in which members of the different government detective +services have figured—hangs a frame containing four letters, each in a +different handwriting.</p> + +<p>Beyond the fact that these letters obviously refer to some secret in the +lives of the persons to whom they are addressed, there is little about +them that is out of the ordinary. A close observer, however, would note +that in none of the four is the secret openly stated. It is only hinted +at, suggested, but by that very fact it becomes more mysterious and +alarming.</p> + +<p>It was upon this that I commented one evening as I sat, discussing +things in general, with Quinn.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he agreed, "the writer of those letters was certainly a genius. +As an author or as an advertising writer or in almost any other +profession where a mastery of words and the ability to leave much to the +imagination is a distinct asset, they would have made a big success."</p> + +<p>"They?" I inquired. "Did more than one person write the letters?"</p> + +<p>"Don't look like the writing of the same person, do they?" countered +Quinn. "Besides, that was one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> many phases of the matter which +puzzled Elmer Allison, and raised the case above the dead level of +ordinary blackmailing schemes."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Allison [Quinn went on, settling comfortably back in his big armchair] +was, as you probably remember, one of the star men of the Postal +Inspection Service, the chap who solved the mystery of the lost one +hundred thousand dollars in Columbus. In fact, he had barely cleared up +the tangle connected with the letters when assigned to look into the +affair of the missing money, with what results you already know.</p> + +<p>The poison-pen puzzle, as it came to be known in the department, first +bobbed up some six months before Allison tackled it. At least, that was +when it came to the attention of the Postal Inspection Service. It's +more than likely that the letters had been arriving for some time +previous to that, because one of the beauties of any blackmailing +scheme—such as this one appeared to be—is that 90 per cent of the +victims fear to bring the matter to the attention of the law. They much +prefer to suffer in silence, kicking in with the amounts demanded, than +to risk the exposure of their family skeletons by appealing to the +proper authorities.</p> + +<p>A man by the name of Tyson, who lived in Madison, Wisconsin, was the +first to complain. He informed the postmaster in his city that his wife +had received two letters, apparently in a feminine handwriting, which he +considered to be very thinly veiled attempts at blackmailing.</p> + +<p>Neither of the letters was long. Just a sentence or two. But their +ingenuity lay in what they suggested rather than in their actual +threats.</p> + +<p>The first one read:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>Does your husband know the details of that trip to Fond du +Lac? He might be interested in what Hastings has to tell him.</p></blockquote> + +<p>The second, which arrived some ten days later, announced:</p> + +<blockquote><p>The photograph of the register of a certain hotel in Fond du +Lac for June 8 might be of interest to your husband—who can +tell?</p></blockquote> + +<p>That was all there was to them, but it doesn't take an expert in plot +building to think of a dozen stories that could lie back of that +supposedly clandestine trip on the eighth of June.</p> + +<p>Tyson didn't go into particulars at the time. He contented himself with +turning the letters over to the department, with the request that the +matter be looked into at once. Said that his wife had handed them to him +and that he knew nothing more about the matter.</p> + +<p>All that the postal authorities could do at the time was to instruct him +to bring in any subsequent communications. But, as the letters stopped +suddenly and Tyson absolutely refused to state whether he knew of anyone +who might be interested in causing trouble between his wife and himself, +there was nothing further to be done. Tracing a single letter, or even +two of them, is like looking for a certain star on a clear night—you've +got to know where to look before you have a chance of finding it—and +the postmark on the letters wasn't of the least assistance.</p> + +<p>Some three or four weeks later a similar case cropped up. This time it +was a woman who brought in the letters—a woman who was red-eyed from +lack of sleep and worry. Again the communications referred to a definite +escapade, but still they made no open demand for money.</p> + +<p>By the time the third case cropped up the postal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> authorities in Madison +were appealing to Washington for assistance. Before Bolton and Clarke, +the two inspectors originally assigned to the case, could reach the +Wisconsin capital another set of the mysterious communications had been +received and called to the attention of the department.</p> + +<p>During the three months which followed no less than six complaints were +filed, all of them alleging the receipt of veiled threats, and neither +the local authorities nor the men from Washington could find a single +nail on which to hang a theory. Finally affairs reached such a stage +that the chief sent for Allison, who had already made something of a +name for himself, and told him to get on the job.</p> + +<p>"Better make the first train for Madison," were the directions which +Elmer received. "So far as we can tell, this appears to be the scheme of +some crazy woman, intent upon causing domestic disturbances, rather than +a well-laid blackmailing plot. There's no report of any actual demand +for money. Just threats or suggestions of revelations which would cause +family dissension. I don't have to tell you that it's wise to keep the +whole business away from the papers as long as you can. They'll get next +to it some time, of course, but if we can keep it quiet until we've +landed the author of the notes it'll be a whole lot better for the +reputation of the department.</p> + +<p>"Bolton and Clarke are in Madison now, but their reports are far from +satisfactory, so you better do a little investigating of your own. +You'll have full authority to handle the case any way that you see fit. +All we ask is action—before somebody stirs up a real row about the +inefficiency of the Service and all that rot."</p> + +<p>Elmer smiled grimly, knowing the difficulties under which the department +worked, difficulties which make it hard for any bureau to obtain the +full facts in a case<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> without being pestered by politicians and harried +by local interests which are far from friendly. For this reason you +seldom know that Uncle Sam is conducting an investigation until the +whole thing is over and done with and the results are ready to be +presented to the grand jury. Premature publicity has ruined many cases +and prevented many a detective from landing the men he's after, which +was the reason that Allison slipped into town on rubber heels, and his +appearance at the office of the postmaster was the first indication that +official had of his arrival.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gordon," said Allison, after they had completed the usual +preliminaries connected with credentials and so forth, "I want to tackle +this case just as if I were the first man who had been called in. I +understand that comparatively little progress has been made—"</p> + +<p>"'Comparatively little' is good," chuckled the postmaster.</p> + +<p>"And I don't wish to be hindered by any erroneous theories which may +have been built up. So if you don't mind we'll run over the whole thing +from the beginning."</p> + +<p>"Well," replied the postmaster, "you know about the Tyson letters and—"</p> + +<p>"I don't know about a thing," Elmer cut in. "Or at least we'll work on +the assumption that I don't. Then I'll be sure not to miss any points +and at the same time I'll get a fresh outline of the entire situation."</p> + +<p>Some two hours later Postmaster Gordon finished his résumé of the +various cases which were puzzling the police and the postal officials, +for a number of the best men on the police force had been quietly at +work trying to trace the poison-pen letters.</p> + +<p>"Are these all the letters that have been received?" Allison inquired, +indicating some thirty communications which lay before him on the desk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All that have been called to the attention of this office. Of course, +there's no telling how many more have been written, about which no +complaint has been made. Knowing human nature, I should say that at +least three times that number have been received and possibly paid for. +But the recipients didn't report the matter—for reasons best known to +themselves. As a matter of fact—But you're not interested in gossip."</p> + +<p>"I most certainly am!" declared Allison. "When you're handling a matter +of this kind, where back-stairs intrigue and servants-hall talk is +likely to play a large part, gossip forms a most important factor. What +does Dame Rumor say in this case?"</p> + +<p>"So far as these letters are concerned, nothing at all. Certain +influences, which it's hardly necessary to explain in detail, have kept +this affair out of the papers—but gossip has it that at least three +divorces within as many months have been caused by the receipt of +anonymous letters, and that there are a number of other homes which are +on the verge of being broken up for a similar reason."</p> + +<p>"That would appear to bear out your contention that other people have +received letters like these, but preferred to take private action upon +them. Also that, if blackmail were attempted, it sometimes +failed—otherwise the matter wouldn't have gotten as far as the divorce +court."</p> + +<p>Then, after a careful study of several of the sample letters on the +desk, Allison continued, "I suppose you have noted the fact that no two +of these appear to have been written by the same person?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but that is a point upon which handwriting experts fail to agree. +Some of them claim that each was written by a different person. Others +maintain that one woman was responsible for all of them, and a third +school<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> holds that either two or three people wrote them. What're you +going to do when experts disagree?"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about any of 'em," retorted Allison. "If we're successful +at all we won't have much trouble in proving our case without the +assistance of a bunch of so-called experts who only gum up the testimony +with long words that a jury can't understand. Where are the envelopes in +which these letters were mailed?"</p> + +<p>"Most of the people who brought them in failed to keep the envelopes. +But we did manage to dig up a few. Here they are," and the postmaster +tossed over a packet of about half a dozen, of various shapes and sizes.</p> + +<p>"Hum!" mused the postal operative, "all comparatively inexpensive +stationery. Might have been bought at nearly any corner drug store. Any +clue in the postmarks?"</p> + +<p>"Not the slightest. As you will note, they were mailed either at the +central post office or at the railroad station—places so public that +it's impossible to keep a strict watch for the person who mailed 'em. In +one case—that of the Osgoods—we cautioned the wife to say nothing +whatever about the matter, and then ordered every clerk in the post +office to look out for letters in that handwriting which might be +slipped through the slot. In fact, we closed all the slots save one and +placed a man on guard inside night and day."</p> + +<p>"Well, what happened?" inquired Allison, a trifle impatiently, as the +postmaster paused.</p> + +<p>"The joke was on us. Some two days later a letter which looked +suspiciously like these was mailed. Our man caught it in time to dart +outside and nail the person who posted it. Fortunately we discovered +that she was Mrs. Osgood's sister-in-law and that the letter was a +perfectly innocent one."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No chance of her being mixed up in the affair?"</p> + +<p>"No. Her husband is a prominent lawyer here, and, besides, we've watched +every move she's made since that time. She's one of the few people in +town that we're certain of."</p> + +<p>"Yet, you say her handwriting was similar to that which appears on these +letters?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's one of the many puzzling phases of the whole matter. Every +single letter is written in a hand which closely resembles that of a +relative of the person to whom it is addressed! So much so, in fact, +that at least four of the complainants have insisted upon the arrest of +these relatives, and have been distinctly displeased at our refusal to +place them in jail merely because their handwriting is similar to that +of a blackmailer."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say blackmailer? Do you know of any demand for money which +has been made?"</p> + +<p>"Not directly—but what other purpose could a person have than to +extract money? They'd hardly run the risk of going to the pen in order +to gratify a whim for causing trouble."</p> + +<p>"How about the Tysons and the Osgoods and the other people who brought +these letters in—didn't they receive subsequent demands for money?"</p> + +<p>"They received nothing—not another single letter of any kind."</p> + +<p>"You mean that the simple fact of making a report to your office +appeared to stop the receipt of the threats."</p> + +<p>"Precisely. Now that you put it that way, it does look odd. But that's +what happened."</p> + +<p>Allison whistled. This was the first ray of light that had penetrated a +very dark and mysterious case, and, with its aid, he felt that he might, +after all, be successful.</p> + +<p>Contenting himself with a few more questions, including<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> the names of +the couples whom gossip stated had been separated through the receipt of +anonymous communications, Allison bundled the letters together and +slipped them into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"It's quite possible," he stated, as he opened the door leading out of +the postmaster's private office, "that you won't hear anything more from +me for some time. I hardly think it would be wise to report here too +often, or that if you happen to run into me on the street that you would +register recognition. I won't be using the name of Allison, anyhow, but +that of Gregg—Alvin Gregg—who has made a fortune in the operation of +chain stores and is looking over the field with a view to establishing +connections here. Gregg, by the way, is stopping at the Majestic Hotel, +if you care to reach him," and with that he was gone.</p> + +<p>Allison's first move after establishing his identity at the hotel, was +to send a wire to a certain Alice Norcross in Chicago—a wire which +informed her that "My sister, Mrs. Mabel Kennedy, requests your presence +in Madison, Wisconsin. Urgent and immediate." The signature was "Alvin +Gregg, E. A.," and to an inquisitive telegraph operator who inquired the +meaning of the initials, Allison replied: "Electrical Assistant, of +course," and walked away before the matter could be further discussed.</p> + +<p>The next evening Mrs. Mabel Kennedy registered at the Majestic Hotel, +and went up to the room which Mr. Gregg had reserved for her—the one +next to his.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Alice," he informed her a few moments later, after a +careful survey had satisfied him that the hall was clear of prying ears. +"I told them all about you—that you were my sister 'n' everything. So +it's quite respectable."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Kennedy," or Alice Norcross, as she was known<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> to the members of +the Postal Service whom she had assisted on more than one occasion when +the services of a woman with brains were demanded, merely smiled and +continued to fix her hair before the mirror.</p> + +<p>"I'm not worrying about that," she replied. "You boys can always be +trusted to arrange the details—but traveling always did play the +dickens with my hair! What's the idea, anyhow? Why am I Mrs. Mabel +Kennedy, and what's she supposed to do?"</p> + +<p>In a few words Allison outlined what he was up against—evidently the +operation of a very skillful gang of blackmailers who were not only +perfectly sure of their facts, but who didn't run any risks until their +victims were too thoroughly cowed to offer any resistance.</p> + +<p>"The only weak spot in the whole plan," concluded the operative, "is +that the letters invariably cease when the prospective victims lay their +case before the postmaster."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you think he's implicated?"</p> + +<p>"No—but some one in his office is!" snapped Allison. "Else how would +they know when to lay off? That's the only lead we have, and I don't +want to work from it, but up to it. Do you know anyone who's socially +prominent in Madison?"</p> + +<p>"Not a soul, but it's no trick to get letters of introduction—even for +Mrs. Mabel Kennedy."</p> + +<p>"Fine! Go to it! The minute you get 'em start a social campaign here. +Stage several luncheons, bridge parties, and the like. Be sure to create +the impression of a woman of means—and if you can drop a few hints +about your none too spotless past, so much the better."</p> + +<p>"You want to draw their fire, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely. It's unfortunate that we can't rig up a husband for +you—that would make things easier, but when it's known that I, Alvin +Gregg, am your brother,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> I think it's more than likely that they'll risk +a couple of shots."</p> + +<p>It was about a month later that Mrs. Kennedy called up her brother at +the Hotel Majestic and asked him to come over to her apartment at once.</p> + +<p>"Something stirring?" inquired Allison as he entered the drawing-room of +the suite which his assistant had rented in order to bolster up her +social campaign.</p> + +<p>"The first nibble," replied the girl, holding out a sheet of +violet-tinted paper, on which appeared the words:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Of course your brother and your friends know all about the +night you spent alone with a certain man in a cabin in the +Sierras?</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Great Scott!" ejaculated Allison. "Do you mean to say it worked?"</p> + +<p>"Like clockwork," was the girl's reply. "Acting on your instructions, I +made a special play for Snaith, the postmaster's confidential secretary +and general assistant. I invited him to several of my parties and paid +particular attention to what I said when he was around. The first night +I got off some clever little remark about conventions—laughing at the +fact that it was all right for a woman to spend a day with a man, but +hardly respectable for her to spend the evening. The next time he was +there—and he was the only one in the party who had been present on the +previous occasion—I turned the conversation to snowstorms and admitted +that I had once been trapped in a storm in the Sierra Nevadas and had +been forced to spend the night in a cabin. But I didn't say anything +then about any companion. The third evening—when an entirely different +crowd, with the exception of Snaith, was present—some one brought up +the subject of what constitutes a gentleman, and my contribution was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> a +speech to the effect that 'one never knows what a man is until he is +placed in a position where his brute instincts would naturally come to +the front.'</p> + +<p>"Not a single one of those remarks was incriminating or even +suspicious—but it didn't take a master mind to add them together and +make this note! Snaith was the only man who could add them, because he +was the only one who was present when they were all made!"</p> + +<p>"Fine work!" applauded Allison. "But there's one point you've +overlooked. This letter, unlike the rest of its kind, is postmarked +Kansas City, while Snaith was here day before yesterday when this was +mailed. I know, because Clarke's been camping on his trail for the past +three weeks."</p> + +<p>"Then that means—"</p> + +<p>"That Snaith is only one of the gang—the stool-pigeon—or, in this +case, the lounge-lizard—who collects the information and passes it on +to his chief? Exactly. Now, having Mr. Snaith where I want him and +knowing pretty well how to deal with his breed, I think the rest will be +easy. I knew that somebody in the postmaster's office must be mixed up +in the affair and your very astute friend was the most likely prospect. +Congratulations on landing him so neatly!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said the girl, "but what next?"</p> + +<p>"For you, not a thing. You've handled your part to perfection. The rest +is likely to entail a considerable amount of strong-arm work, and I'd +rather not have you around. Might cramp my style."</p> + +<p>That night—or, rather, about three o'clock on the following +morning—Sylvester Snaith, confidential secretary to the postmaster of +Madison, was awakened by the sound of some one moving stealthily about +the bedroom of his bachelor apartment. Before he could utter a sound<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +the beam of light from an electric torch blazed in his eyes and a curt +voice from the darkness ordered him to put up his hands. Then:</p> + +<p>"What do you know about the anonymous letters which have been sent to a +number of persons in this city?" demanded the voice.</p> + +<p>"Not—not a thing," stammered the clerk, trying to collect his badly +scattered senses.</p> + +<p>"That's a lie! We know that you supplied the information upon which +those letters were based! Now come through with the whole dope or, by +hell I'll—" the blue-steel muzzle of an automatic which was visible +just outside the path of light from the torch completed the threat. +Snaith, thoroughly cowed, "came through"—told more than even Allison +had hoped for when he had planned the night raid on a man whom he had +sized up as a physical coward.</p> + +<p>Less than an hour after the secretary had finished, Elmer was on his way +to Kansas City, armed with information which he proceeded to lay before +the chief of police.</p> + +<p>"'Spencerian Peter,' eh?" grunted the chief. "Sure, I know where to lay +my hands on him—been watching him more or less ever since he got out of +Leavenworth a couple of years back. But I never connected him with this +case."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean—this case?" demanded Allison. "Did you know anything +about the poison-pen letters in Madison?"</p> + +<p>"Madison? No—but I know about the ones that have set certain people +here by the ears for the past month. I thought that was what you wanted +him for. Evidently the game isn't new."</p> + +<p>"Far from it," Elmer replied. "I don't know how much he cleaned up in +Wisconsin, but I'll bet he got away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> with a nice pile. Had a social pet +there, who happened to be the postmaster's right-hand man, collect the +scandal for him and then he'd fix up the letters—faking some relative's +handwriting with that infernal skill of his. Then his Man Friday would +tip him off when they made a holler to headquarters and he'd look for +other suckers rather than run the risk of getting the department on his +trail by playing the same fish too long. That's what finally gave him +away—that and the fact that his assistant was bluffed by an electric +torch and an empty gun."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be hanged," muttered the chief. "You might have been +explaining the situation here—except that we don't know who his society +informant is. I think we better drop in for a call on 'Spencerian' this +evening."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"The call was made on scheduled time," Quinn concluded, "but it was +hardly of a social nature. You wouldn't expect a post-office operative, +a chief of police, and half a dozen cops to stage a pink tea. Their +methods are inclined to be a trifle more abrupt—though Pete, as it +happened, didn't attempt to pull any rough stuff. He dropped his gun the +moment he saw how many guests were present, and it wasn't very long +before they presented him with a formal invitation to resume his none +too comfortable but extremely exclusive apartment in Leavenworth. +Snaith, being only an accomplice, got off with two years. The man who +wrote the letters and who was the principal beneficiary of the money +which they produced, drew ten."</p> + +<p>"And who got the credit for solving the puzzle?" I inquired. "Allison or +the Norcross girl?"</p> + +<p>"Allison," replied Quinn. "Alice Norcross only worked on condition that +her connection with the Service be kept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> quite as much of a secret as +the fact that her real name was Mrs. Elmer Allison."</p> + +<p>"What? She was Allison's wife?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"Quite so," said the former operative. "If you don't believe me, there's +a piece of her wedding dress draped over that picture up there," and he +pointed to a strip of white silk that hung over one of the framed +photographs on the wall.</p> + +<p>"But I thought you said—"</p> + +<p>"That that was part of the famous thirty thousand yards which was nailed +just after it had been smuggled across the Canadian border? I did. But +Allison got hold of a piece of it and had it made up into a dress for +Alice. So that bit up there has a double story. You know one of them. +Remind me to tell you the other sometime."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THIRTY THOUSAND YARDS OF SILK</h3> + + +<p>"I'd sure like to lead the life of one of those fictional detective +heroes," muttered Bill Quinn, formerly of the United States Secret +Service, as he tossed aside the latest volume of crime stories that had +come to his attention. "Nothing to do but trail murderers and find the +person who lifted the diamond necklace and stuff of that kind. They +never have a case that isn't interesting or, for that matter, one in +which they aren't successful. Must be a great life!"</p> + +<p>"But aren't the detective stories of real life interesting and +oftentimes exciting?" I inquired, adding that those which Quinn had +already told me indicated that the career of a government operative was +far from being deadly monotonous.</p> + +<p>"Some of them are," he admitted, "but many of them drag along for months +or even years, sometimes petering out for pure lack of evidence. Those, +of course, are the cases you never hear of—the ones where Uncle Sam's +men fall down on the job. Oh yes, they're fallible, all right. They +can't solve every case—any more than a doctor can save the life of +every patient he attends. But their percentage, though high, doesn't +approach the success of your Sherlock Holmeses and your Thinking +Machines, your Gryces and Sweetwaters and Lecoqs."</p> + +<p>"How is it, then, that every story you've told dealt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> with the success +of a government agent—never with his failure?"</p> + +<p>Quinn smiled reminiscently for a moment.</p> + +<p>Then, "What do doctors do with their mistakes?" he asked. "They bury +'em. And that's what any real detective will do—try to forget, except +for hoping that some day he'll run up against the man who tricked him. +Again, most of the yarns I've told you revolved around some of the +relics of this room"—waving his hand to indicate the walls of his +library—"and these are all mementoes of successful cases. There's no +use in keeping the other kind. Failures are too common and brains too +scarce. That bit of silk up there—"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," I interrupted, "the one that formed part of Alice Norcross's +wedding dress."</p> + +<p>"And figured in one of the most sensational plots to defraud the +government that was ever uncovered," added Quinn. "If Ezra Marks hadn't +located that shipment I wouldn't have had that piece of silk and there +wouldn't be any story to tell. So you see, it's really a circle, after +all."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Marks [Quinn went on] was one of the few men connected with any branch +of the government organizations who really lived up to the press-agent +notices of the detectives you read about. In the first place, he looked +like he might have stepped out of a book—big and long-legged and lanky. +A typical Yankee, with all of the New-Englander's shrewdness and common +sense. If you turned Ezra loose on a case you could be sure that he +wouldn't sit down and try to work it out by deduction. Neither would he +plunge in and attempt by sheer bravado and gun play to put the thing +over. He'd mix the two methods and, more often than not, come back with +the answer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, too, Marks had the very happy faculty of drawing assignments that +turned out to be interesting. Maybe it was luck, but more than likely it +was because he followed plans that made 'em so—preferring to wait until +he had all the strings to a case and then stage a big round-up of the +people implicated. You remember the case of the Englishman who smuggled +uncut diamonds in the bowl of his pipe and the one you wrote under the +title of "Wah Lee and the Flower of Heaven"? Well, those were typical of +Ezra's methods—the first was almost entirely analytical, the second +mainly gun play plus a painstaking survey of the field he had to cover.</p> + +<p>But when Marks was notified that it was up to him to find out who was +running big shipments of valuable silks across the Canadian border, +without the formality of visiting the customhouse and making the +customary payments, he found it advisable to combine the two courses.</p> + +<p>It was through a wholesale dealer in silks in Seattle, Washington, that +the Customs Service first learned of the arrival of a considerable +quantity of this valuable merchandise, offered through certain +underground channels at a price which clearly labeled it as smuggled. +Possibly the dealer was peeved because he didn't learn of the shipment +in time to secure any of it. But his reasons for calling the affair to +the attention of the Treasury Department don't really matter. The main +idea was that the silk was there, that it hadn't paid duty, and that +some one ought to find out how it happened.</p> + +<p>When a second and then a third shipment was reported, Marks was notified +by wire to get to Seattle as fast as he could, and there to confer with +the Collector of the Port.</p> + +<p>It wasn't until after he had arrived that Ezra knew what the trouble +was, for the story of the smuggled silk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> hadn't penetrated as far south +as San Francisco, where he had been engaged in trying to find a cargo of +smuggled coolies.</p> + +<p>"Here's a sample of the silk," announced the Collector of the Port at +Seattle, producing a piece of very heavy material, evidently of foreign +manufacture. "Beyond the fact that we've spotted three of the shipments +and know where to lay our hands on them if wanted, I've got to admit +that we don't know a thing about the case. The department, of course, +doesn't want us to trace the silk from this end. The minute you do that +you lay yourself open to all sorts of legal tangles and delays—to say +nothing of giving the other side plenty of time to frame up a case that +would sound mighty good in court. Besides, I haven't enough men to +handle the job in the short space of time necessary. So you'll have to +dig into it and find out who got the stuff in and how. Then we'll attend +to the fences who've been handling it here."</p> + +<p>"The old game of passing the buck," thought Ezra, as he fingered the +sample of silk meditatively. "I'll do the work and they'll get the +glory. Oh, well—"</p> + +<p>"Any idea of where the shipments came from?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"There's no doubt but that it's of Japanese manufacture, which, of +course, would appear to point to a shipping conspiracy of some nature. +But I hardly think that's true here. Already eighteen bolts of silk have +been reported in Seattle, and, as you know, that's a pretty good sized +consignment. You couldn't stuff 'em into a pill box or carry 'em inside +a walking stick, like you could diamonds. Whoever's handling this job is +doing it across the border, rather than via the shipping route."</p> + +<p>"No chance of a slip-up in your information, is there, Chief?" Ezra +inquired, anxiously. "I'd hate to start<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> combing the border and then +find that the stuff was being slipped in through the port."</p> + +<p>"No," and the Collector of Customs was positive in his reply. "I'm not +taking a chance on that tip. I know what I'm talking about. My men have +been watching the shipping like hawks. Ever since that consignment of +antique ivory got through last year we've gone over every vessel with a +microscope, probing the mattresses and even pawing around in the coal +bins. I'm positive that there isn't a place big enough to conceal a yard +of silk that the boys haven't looked into—to say nothing of eighteen +bolts.</p> + +<p>"Besides," added the Collector, "the arrival of the silk hasn't +coincided with the arrival of any of the ships from Japan—not by any +stretch of the imagination."</p> + +<p>"All right, I'll take up the trail northward then," replied Marks. +"Don't be surprised if you fail to hear from me for a couple of months +or more. If Washington inquires, tell them that I'm up on the border +somewhere and let it go at that."</p> + +<p>"Going to take anybody with you?"</p> + +<p>"Not a soul, except maybe a guide that I'll pick up when I need him. If +there is a concerted movement to ship silk across the line—and it +appears that there is—the more men you have working with you the less +chance there is for success. Border runners are like moonshiners, +they're not afraid of one man, but if they see a posse they run for +cover and keep out of sight until the storm blows over. And there isn't +one chance in a thousand of finding 'em meanwhile. You've got to play +them, just like you would a fish, so the next time you hear from me you +will know that I've either landed my sharks or that they've slipped off +the hook!"</p> + +<p>It was about a month later that the little town of Northport,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> up in the +extreme northeastern corner of Washington, awoke to find a stranger in +its midst. Strangers were something of a novelty in Northport, and this +one—a man named Marks, who stated that he was "prospectin' for some +good lumber"—caused quite a bit of talk for a day or two. Then the town +gossips discovered that he was not working in the interest of a large +company, as had been rumored, but solely on his own hook, so they left +him severely alone. Besides, it was the height of the logging season and +there was too much work to be done along the Columbia River to worry +about strangers.</p> + +<p>Marks hadn't taken this into consideration when he neared the eastern +part of the state, but he was just as well pleased. If logs and logging +served to center the attention of the natives elsewhere, so much the +better. It would give him greater opportunity for observation and +possibly the chance to pick up some information. Up to this time his +trip along the border had been singularly uneventful and lacking in +results. In fact, it was practically a toss-up with him whether he would +continue on into Idaho and Montana, on the hope that he would find +something there, or go back to Seattle and start fresh.</p> + +<p>However, he figured that it wouldn't do any harm to spend a week or two +in the neighborhood of the Columbia—and, as events turned out, it was a +very wise move.</p> + +<p>Partly out of curiosity and partly because it was in keeping with his +self-assumed character of lumber prospector, Marks made a point of +joining the gangs of men who worked all day and sometimes long into the +night keeping the river clear of log jams and otherwise assisting in the +movement of timber downstream. Like everyone who views these operations +for the first time, he marveled at the dexterity of the loggers who +perched upon the treacherous slippery trunks with as little thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> for +danger as if they had been crossing a country road. But their years of +familiarity with the current and the logs themselves had given them a +sense of balance which appeared to inure them to peril.</p> + +<p>Nor was this ability to ride logs confined wholly to the men. Some of +the girls from the near-by country often worked in with the men, +handling the lighter jobs and attending to details which did not call +for the possession of a great amount of strength.</p> + +<p>One of these, Marks noted, was particularly proficient in her work. +Apparently there wasn't a man in Northport who could give her points in +log riding, and the very fact that she was small and wiry provided her +with a distinct advantage over men who were twice her weight. Apart from +her grace and beauty, there was something extremely appealing about the +girl, and Ezra found himself watching her time after time as she almost +danced across the swirling, bark-covered trunks—hardly seeming to touch +them as she moved.</p> + +<p>The girl was by no means oblivious of the stranger's interest in her +ability to handle at least a part of the men's work. She caught his eye +the very first day he came down to the river, and after that, whenever +she noted that he was present she seemed to take a new delight in +skipping lightly from log to log, lingering on each just long enough to +cause it to spin dangerously and then leaping to the next.</p> + +<p>But one afternoon she tried the trick once too often. Either she +miscalculated her distance or a sudden swirl of the current carried the +log for which she was aiming out of her path, for her foot just touched +it, slipped and, before she could recover her balance, she was in the +water—surrounded by logs that threatened to crush the life out of her +at any moment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<p>Startled by her cry for help, three of the lumbermen started toward +her—but the river, like a thing alive, appeared to thwart their efforts +by opening up a rift in the jam on either side, leaving a gap too wide +to be leaped, and a current too strong to be risked by men who were +hampered by their heavy hobnailed shoes.</p> + +<p>Marks, who had been watching the girl, had his coat off almost as soon +as she hit the water. An instant later he had discarded his shoes and +had plunged in, breasting the river with long overhand strokes that +carried him forward at an almost unbelievable speed. Before the men on +the logs knew what was happening, the operative was beside the girl, +using one hand to keep her head above water, and the other to fend off +the logs which were closing in from every side.</p> + +<p>"Quick!" he called. "A rope! A—" but the trunk of a tree, striking his +head a glancing blow, cut short his cry and forced him to devote every +atom of his strength to remaining afloat until assistance arrived. After +an interval which appeared to be measured in hours, rather than seconds, +a rope splashed within reach and the pair were hauled to safety.</p> + +<p>The girl, apparently unhurt by her drenching, shook herself like a wet +spaniel and then turned to where Marks was seated, trying to recover his +breath.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," she said, extending her hand. "I don't know who you are, +stranger, but you're a man!"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't anything to make a fuss about," returned Ezra, rising and +turning suspiciously red around the ears, for it was the first time that +a girl had spoken to him in that way for more years than he cared to +remember. Then, with the Vermont drawl that always came to the surface +when he was excited or embarrassed, he added: "It was worth gettin' wet +to have you speak like that."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> + +<p>This time it was the girl who flushed, and, with a palpable effort to +cover her confusion, she turned away, stopping to call back over her +shoulder, "If you'll come up to dad's place to-night I'll see that +you're properly thanked."</p> + +<p>"Dad's place?" repeated Ezra to one of the men near by. "Where's that?"</p> + +<p>"She means her stepfather's house up the river," replied the lumberman. +"You can't miss it. Just this side the border. Ask anybody where Old Man +Petersen lives."</p> + +<p>Though the directions were rather vague, Marks started "up the river" +shortly before sunset, and found but little difficulty in locating the +big house—half bungalow and half cabin—where Petersen and his +stepdaughter resided, in company with half a dozen foremen of lumber +gangs, and an Indian woman who had acted as nurse and chaperon and cook +and general servant ever since the death of the girl's mother a number +of years before.</p> + +<p>While he was still stumbling along, trying to pierce the gloom which +settled almost instantly after sunset, Marks was startled to see a white +figure rise suddenly before him and to hear a feminine voice remark, "I +wondered if you'd come."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you know I would?" replied Ezra. "Your spill in the river had me +scared stiff for a moment, but it was a mighty lucky accident for me."</p> + +<p>At the girl's suggestion they seated themselves outside, being joined +before long by Petersen himself, who, with more than a trace of his +Slavic ancestry apparent in his voice, thanked Marks for rescuing his +daughter. It was when the older man left them and the girl's figure was +outlined with startling distinctness by the light from the open door, +that Ezra received a shock which brought him to earth with a crash.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the semidarkness he had been merely aware that the girl was wearing a +dress which he would have characterized as "something white." But once +he saw her standing in the center of the path of light which streamed +from the interior of the house there could be no mistake.</p> + +<p>The dress was of white silk!</p> + +<p>More than that, it was made from material which Marks would have sworn +had been cut from the same bolt as the sample which the Collector had +shown him in Seattle!</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Mr. Marks?" inquired the girl, evidently noting the +surprise which Ezra was unable completely to suppress. "Seen a ghost or +something?"</p> + +<p>"I thought for a moment I had," was the operative's reply, as he played +for time. "It must be your dress. My—my sister had one just like it +once."</p> + +<p>"It is rather pretty, isn't it? In spite of the fact that I made it +myself—out of some silk that dad—that dad brought home."</p> + +<p>Ezra thought it best to change the subject, and as soon as he could find +the opportunity said good night, with a promise to be on hand the next +day to see that the plunge in the river wasn't repeated.</p> + +<p>But the next morning he kept as far away from the girl—Fay Petersen—as +he could, without appearing to make a point of the matter. He had +thought the whole thing over from every angle and his conclusion was +always the same. The Petersens were either hand in glove with the gang +that was running the silk across the border or they were doing the +smuggling themselves. The lonely cabin, the proximity to the border, the +air of restraint which he had noted the previous evening (based +principally upon the fact that he had not been invited indoors), the +silk dress—all were signs which pointed at least to a knowledge of the +plot to beat the customs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>More than that, when Marks commenced to make some guarded inquiries +about the family of the girl whom he had saved from drowning, he met +with a decidedly cool reception.</p> + +<p>"Old Man Petersen has some big loggin' interests in these parts," +declared the most loquacious of his informants, "an' they say he's made +a pile o' money in the last few months. Some say it's timber an' others +say it's—well, it ain't nobody's concern how a man makes a livin' in +these parts, s'long as he behaves himself."</p> + +<p>"Isn't Petersen behaving himself?" asked Ezra.</p> + +<p>"Stranger," was the reply, "it ain't always healthy to pry into another +man's affairs. Better be satisfied with goin' to see the girl. That's +more than anybody around here's allowed to do."</p> + +<p>"So there was an air of mystery about the Petersen house, after all!" +Marks thought. It hadn't been his imagination or an idea founded solely +upon the sight of the silk dress!</p> + +<p>The next fortnight found the operative a constant and apparently a +welcome visitor at the house up the river. But, hint as he might, he was +never asked indoors—a fact that made him all the more determined to see +what was going on. While he solaced himself with the thought that his +visits were made strictly in the line of duty, that his only purpose was +to discover Petersen's connection with the smuggled silk, Ezra was +unable entirely to stifle another feeling—something which he hadn't +known since the old days in Vermont, when the announcement of a girl's +wedding to another man had caused him to leave home and seek his +fortunes in Boston.</p> + +<p>Fay Petersen was pretty. There was no denying that fact. Also she was +very evidently prepossessed in favor of the man who had saved her from +the river. But this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> fact, instead of soothing Marks's conscience, only +irritated it the more. Here he was on the verge of making love to a +girl—really in love with her, as he admitted to himself—and at the +same time planning and hoping to send her stepfather to the +penitentiary. He had hoped that the fact that Petersen was not her own +father might make things a little easier for him, but the girl had shown +in a number of ways that she was just as fond of her foster-parent as +she would have been of her own.</p> + +<p>"He's all the daddy I ever knew," she said one night, "and if anything +ever happened to him I think it would drive me crazy," which fell far +short of easing Ezra's mind, though it strengthened his determination to +settle the matter definitely.</p> + +<p>The next evening that he visited the Petersens he left a little earlier +than usual, and only followed the road back to Northport sufficiently +far to make certain that he was not being trailed. Then retracing his +steps, he approached the house from the rear, his soft moccasins moving +silently across the ground, his figure crouched until he appeared little +more than a shadow between the trees.</p> + +<p>Just as he reached the clearing which separated the dwelling from the +woods, he stumbled and almost fell. His foot had caught against +something which felt like the trunk of a fallen tree, but which moved +with an ease entirely foreign to a log of that size.</p> + +<p>Puzzled, Marks waited until a cloud which had concealed the moon had +drifted by, and then commenced his examination. Yes, it was a log—and a +big one, still damp from its immersion in the river. But it was so light +that he could lift it unaided and it rang to a rap from his knuckles. +The end which he first examined was solid, but at the other end the log +was a mere shell, not more than an inch of wood remaining inside the +bark.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was not until he discovered a round plug of wood—a stopper, which +fitted precisely into the open end of the log—that the solution of the +whole mystery dawned upon him. The silk had been shipped across the +border from Canada inside the trunks of trees, hollowed out for the +purpose! Wrapping the bolts in oiled silk would keep them perfectly +waterproof and the plan was so simple as to be impervious to detection, +save by accident.</p> + +<p>Emboldened by his discovery, Marks slipped silently across the cleared +space to the shadow of the house, and thence around to the side, where a +few cautious cuts of his bowie knife opened a peep hole in the shutter +which covered the window. Through this he saw what he had hoped for, yet +feared to find—Petersen and three of his men packing bolts of white +silk in boxes for reshipment. What was more, he caught snatches of their +conversation which told him that another consignment of the smuggled +goods was due from Trail, just across the border, within the week.</p> + +<p>Retreating as noiselessly as he had come, Marks made his way back to +Northport, where he wrote two letters—or, rather, a letter and a note. +The first, addressed to the sheriff, directed that personage to collect +a posse and report to Ezra Marks, of the Customs Service, on the second +day following. This was forwarded by special messenger, but Marks +pocketed the note and slipped it cautiously under the door of the +Petersen house the next evening.</p> + +<p>"It's a fifty-fifty split," he consoled his conscience. "The government +gets the silk and the Petersens get their warning. I don't suppose I'll +get anything but the devil for not landing them!"</p> + +<p>The next morning when the sheriff and his posse arrived they found, only +an empty house, but in the main room were piled boxes containing no less +than thirty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> thousand yards of white silk—valued at something over one +hundred thousand dollars. On top of the boxes was an envelope addressed +to Ezra Marks, Esq., and within it a note which read, "I don't know who +you are, Mr. Customs Officer, but you're a man!"</p> + +<p>There was no signature, but the writing was distinctly feminine.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"And was that all Marks ever heard from her?" I asked, when Quinn +paused.</p> + +<p>"So far as I know," said the former operative. "Of course, Washington +never heard about that part of the case. They were too well satisfied +with Ezra's haul and the incoming cargo, which they also landed, to care +much about the Petersens. So the whole thing was entered on Marks's +record precisely as he had figured it—a fifty-fifty split. You see, +even government agents aren't always completely successful—especially +when they're fighting Cupid as well as crooks!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> + +<h3>THE CLUE IN THE CLASSIFIED COLUMN</h3> + + +<p>Quinn tossed his evening paper aside with a gesture in which disgust was +mingled in equal proportion with annoyance.</p> + +<p>"Why is it," he inquired, testily, "that some fools never learn +anything?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly that's because they're fools," I suggested. "What's the +trouble now?"</p> + +<p>"Look at that!" And the former Secret Service operative recovered the +paper long enough to indicate a short news item near the bottom of the +first page—an item which bore the headline, "New Fifty-Dollar +Counterfeit Discovered."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I agreed, "there always are people foolish enough to change bills +without examining them any too closely. But possibly this one is very +cleverly faked."</p> + +<p>"Fools not to examine them!" echoed Quinn. "That isn't the direction in +which the idiocy lies. The fools are the people who think they can +counterfeit Uncle Sam's currency and get away with it. Barnum must have +been right. There's a sucker born every minute—and those that don't try +to beat the ponies or buck the stock market turn to counterfeiting for a +living. They get it, too, in Leavenworth or Atlanta or some other place +that maintains a federal penitentiary.</p> + +<p>"They never seem to learn anything by others' experience,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> either. You'd +think, after the Thurene case, it would be perfectly apparent that no +one could beat the counterfeiting game for long."</p> + +<p>"The Thurene case? I don't seem to remember that. The name is unusual, +but—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and that wasn't the only part of the affair that was out of the +ordinary," Quinn cut in. "Spencer Graham also contributed some work that +was well off the beaten path—not forgetting the assistance rendered by +a certain young woman."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Probably the most remarkable portion of the case [continued Quinn] was +the fact that Graham didn't get in on it until Thurene had been +arrested. Nevertheless, if it hadn't been for his work in breaking +through an ironclad alibi the government might have been left high and +dry, with a trunkful of suspicions and mighty little else.</p> + +<p>Somewhere around the latter part of August the New York branch of the +Secret Service informed Washington that a remarkably clever counterfeit +fifty-dollar bill had turned up in Albany—a bill in which the engraving +was practically perfect and the only thing missing from the paper was +the silk fiber. This, however, was replaced by tiny red and blue lines, +drawn in indelible ink. The finished product was so exceptionally good +that, if it had not been for the lynxlike eyes of a paying teller—plus +the highly developed sense of touch which bank officials accumulate—the +note would have been changed without a moment's hesitation.</p> + +<p>The man who presented it, who happened to be well known to the bank +officials, was informed that the bill was counterfeit and the matter was +reported through the usual channels. A few days later another bill, +evidently from the same batch, was picked up in Syracuse, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> from that +time on it rained counterfeits so hard that every teller in the state +threw a fit whenever a fifty-dollar bill came in, either for deposit or +for change.</p> + +<p>Hardly had the flow of upstate counterfeits lessened than the bills +began to make their appearance in and around New York, sometimes in +banks, but more often in the resorts patronized by bookmakers from +Jamaica and the other near-by race tracks.</p> + +<p>The significance of this fact didn't strike the Secret Service men +assigned to the case until the horses had moved southward. The instant +one of the bills was reported in Baltimore two operatives were ordered +to haunt the <i>pari-mutuel</i> booths at Pimlico, with instructions to pay +particular attention to the windows where the larger wagers were laid. +An expert in counterfeits also took up his position inside the cage, to +signal the men outside as soon as a phony bill was presented.</p> + +<p>It was during the rush of the betting after the two-year-olds had gone +to the post for the first race that the signal came—indicating that a +man about forty-five years of age, well dressed and well groomed, had +exchanged two of the counterfeits for a one hundred-dollar ticket on the +favorite.</p> + +<p>Hollister and Sheehan, the Secret Service men, took no chances with +their prey. Neither did they run the risk of arresting him prematurely. +Figuring that it was well within the realms of possibility that he had +received the bills in exchange for other money, and that he was +therefore ignorant of the fact that they were spurious, they contented +themselves with keeping close to him during the race and the interval +which followed.</p> + +<p>When the favorite won, the man they were watching cashed his bet and +stowed his winnings away in a trousers pocket. Then, after a prolonged +examination of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> jockeys, the past performances and the weights of +the various horses, he made his way back to the window to place another +bet.</p> + +<p>Again the signal—and this time Hollister and Sheehan closed in on their +man, notifying him that he was under arrest and advising him to come +along without creating any disturbance.</p> + +<p>"Arrest for what?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Passing counterfeit money," replied Hollister, flashing his badge. +Then, as the man started to protest, Sheehan counseled him to reserve +his arguments until later, and the trio made their way out of the +inclosure in silence.</p> + +<p>When searched, in Baltimore, two sums of money were found upon the +suspect—one roll in his left-hand trousers pocket being made up of +genuine currency, including that which he had received for picking the +winner of the first race, and the one in the right-hand pocket being +entirely of counterfeit fifty-dollar bills—forty-eight in number.</p> + +<p>When questioned, the prisoner claimed that his name was Robert J. +Thurene of New Haven, and added that there were plenty of people in the +Connecticut city who would vouch for his respectability.</p> + +<p>"Then why," inquired the chief of the Secret Service, who had come over +from Washington to take charge of the case, "do you happen to have two +thousand four hundred dollars in counterfeit money on you?"</p> + +<p>At that moment Thurene dropped his bomb—or, rather, one of the many +which rendered the case far from monotonous.</p> + +<p>"If you'll search my room at the Belvedere," he suggested, "you'll find +some five thousand dollars more."</p> + +<p>"What?" demanded the chief. "Do you admit that you deliberately brought +seven thousand five hundred dollars of counterfeit money here and tried +to pass it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I admit nothing," corrected the arrested man. "You stated that the +fifty-dollar bills which you found upon me when I was searched against +my will were false. I'll take your word for that. But if they are +counterfeit, I'm merely telling you that there are a hundred more like +them in my room at the hotel."</p> + +<p>"Of course you're willing to state where they came from?" suggested the +chief, who was beginning to sense the fact that something underlay +Thurene's apparent sincerity.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I found them."</p> + +<p>"Old stuff," sneered one of the operatives standing near by. "Not only +an old alibi, but one which you'll have a pretty hard time proving."</p> + +<p>"Do you happen to have a copy of yesterday's <i>News</i> handy?" Thurene +asked.</p> + +<p>When the paper was produced he turned rapidly to the Lost and Found +column and pointed to an advertisement which appeared there:</p> + +<blockquote><p>FOUND—An envelope containing a sum of money. Owner may +recover same by notifying Robert J. Thurene, Belvedere Hotel, +and proving property.</p></blockquote> + +<p>"There," he continued, after reading the advertisement aloud, "that is +the notice which I inserted after finding the money which you say is +counterfeit."</p> + +<p>"Where did you find it?"</p> + +<p>"In the Pennsylvania station, night before last. I had just come in from +New York, and chanced to see the envelope lying under one of the rows of +seats in the center of the waiting room. It attracted my attention, but +when I examined it I was amazed to find that it contained one hundred +and fifty fifty-dollar bills, all apparently brand new. Naturally, I +didn't care to part with the money<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> unless I was certain that I was +giving it up to the rightful owner, so I carried it with me to the hotel +and advertised the loss at once.</p> + +<p>"The next afternoon I went out to the track and found, when it was too +late, that the only money I had with me was that contained in the +envelope. I used a couple of the bills, won, and, being superstitious, +decided to continue betting with that money. That's the reason I used it +this afternoon. Come to think of it, you won't find the original five +thousand dollars in my room. Part of it is the money which I received at +the track and which I replaced in order to make up the sum I found. But +most of the bills are there."</p> + +<p>"You said," remarked the chief, striking another tack, "that your name +is Thurene and that you live in New Haven. What business are you in?"</p> + +<p>"Stationery. You'll find that my rating in Bradstreet's is excellent, +even though my capital may not be large. What's more"—and here the +man's voice became almost aggressive—"any bank in New Haven and any +member of the Chamber of Commerce will vouch for me. I've a record of +ten years there and some ten in Lowell, Mass., which will bear the +closest possible inspection."</p> + +<p>And he was right, at that.</p> + +<p>In the first place, a search of his room at the hotel brought to light a +large official envelope containing just the sum of money he had +mentioned, counterfeit bills and real ones. Secondly, a wire to New +Haven elicited the information that "Robert J. Thurene, answering to +description in inquiry received, has operated a successful stationery +store here for the past ten years. Financial standing excellent. Wide +circle of friends, all of whom vouch for his character and integrity."</p> + +<p>When this wire was forwarded to Washington, the chief<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> having returned +to headquarters, Spencer Graham received a hurry-up call to report in +the main office. There he was informed that he was to take charge of the +Thurene case and see what he could find out.</p> + +<p>"I don't have to tell you," added the chief, "that it's rather a +delicate matter. Either the man is the victim of circumstances—in which +case we'll have to release him with profound apologies and begin all +over again—or he's a mighty clever crook. We can't afford to take any +chances. The case as it finally stands will have to be presented in +court, and, therefore, must be proof against the acid test of shrewd +lawyers for the defense, lawyers who will rely upon the newspaper +advertisement and Thurene's spotless record as indications of his +innocence."</p> + +<p>"That being the case, Chief, why take any chances right now? The case +hasn't gotten into the papers, so why not release Thurene?"</p> + +<p>"And keep him under constant surveillance? That wouldn't be a bad idea. +The moment he started to leave the country we could nab him, and +meanwhile we would have plenty of time to look into the matter. Of +course, there's always the danger of suicide—but that's proof of guilt, +and it would save the Service a lot of work in the long run. Good idea! +We'll do it."</p> + +<p>So it was that Robert J. Thurene of New Haven was released from custody +with the apologies of the Secret Service—who retained the counterfeit +money, but returned the real bills—while Spencer Graham went to work on +the Baltimore end of the case, four operatives took up the job of +trailing the stationer, and Rita Clarke found that she had important +business to transact in Connecticut.</p> + +<p>Anyone who didn't know Rita would never have suspected that, back of her +brown eyes lay a fund of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> information upon a score of +subjects—including stenography, the best methods of filing, cost +accounting, and many other points which rendered her invaluable around +an office. Even if they found this out, there was something else which +she kept strictly to herself—the fact that she was engaged to a certain +operative in the United States Secret Service, sometimes known as Number +Thirty-three, and sometimes as Spencer Graham.</p> + +<p>In reply to Spencer's often-repeated requests that she set a day for +their wedding, Miss Clarke would answer: "And lose the chance to figure +in any more cases? Not so that you could notice it! As long as I'm +single you find that you can use me every now and then, but if I were +married I'd have too many domestic cares. No, Spencer, let's wait until +we get one more <span class="smcap">big</span> case, and then—well, we'll say one month from the +day it's finished."</p> + +<p>Which was the reason that Graham and his fiancée had a double reason for +wanting to bring Thurene to earth.</p> + +<p>The first place that Graham went to in Baltimore was the Pennsylvania +station, where he made a number of extended inquiries of certain +employees there. After that he went to the newspaper office, where he +conferred with the clerk whose business it was to receive the lost and +found advertisements, finally securing a copy of the original notice in +Thurene's handwriting. Also some other information which he jotted down +in a notebook reserved for that purpose.</p> + +<p>Several days spent in Baltimore failed to turn up any additional leads +and Graham returned to Washington with a request for a list of the +various places where counterfeit fifty-dollar bills had been reported +during the past month. The record sounded like the megaphonic call of a +train leaving Grand Central Station—New York,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> Yonkers, Poughkeepsie, +Syracuse, Troy, and points north, with a few other cities thrown in for +good measure. So Spencer informed the chief that he would make his +headquarters in New York for the next ten days or so, wired Rita to the +same effect, and left Washington on the midnight train.</p> + +<p>In New York he discovered only what he had already known, plus one other +very significant bit of evidence—something which would have warranted +him in placing Thurene again under arrest had he not been waiting for +word from Rita. He knew that it would take her at least a month to work +up her end of the case, so Graham put in the intervening time in weaving +his net a little stronger, for he had determined that the next time the +New Haven stationer was taken into custody would be the last—that the +government would have a case which all the lawyers on earth couldn't +break.</p> + +<p>Early in December he received a wire from Rita—a telegram which +contained the single word, "Come"—but that was enough. He was in New +Haven that night, and, in a quiet corner of the Taft grille the girl +gave him an account of what she had found.</p> + +<p>"Getting into Thurene's store was the easiest part of the whole job," +she admitted. "It took me less than a day to spot one of the girls who +wanted to get married, bribe her to leave, and then arrive bright and +early the following morning, in response to the 'stenographer wanted' +advertisement."</p> + +<p>"Thurene's had a lot of practice writing ads lately," remarked Graham, +with a smile.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Tell you later. What'd you find in the store?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing—until day before yesterday. I thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> it best to move +slowly and let matters take their own course as far as possible. So I +contented myself with doing the work which had been handled by the girl +whose place I took—dictation, typing, and the rest. Then I found that +the correspondence files were in shocking shape. I grabbed the +opportunity to do a little night work by offering to bring them up to +date.</p> + +<p>"'Certainly,' said the boss, and then took good care to be on hand when +I arrived after dinner that night. The very way he hung around and +watched every movement I made convinced me that the stuff was somewhere +on the premises. But where? That's what I couldn't figure out.</p> + +<p>"Having demonstrated my ability by three hours of stiff work on the +files, I suggested a few days later that I had a first-hand knowledge of +cost accounting and that I would be glad to help get his books in shape +for the holiday business, the old man who usually attends to this being +sick. Again Thurene assented and again he blew in, 'to explain any +entries which might prove troublesome.' I'll say this for him, +though—there isn't a single incriminating entry on the books. Every +purchase is accounted for, down to the last paper of pins.</p> + +<p>"Then, when I felt that I had wormed myself sufficiently well into his +good graces, I hinted that I might be able to help out by supervising +the system in the engraving department—checking up the purchases, +watching the disbursements, keeping an eye on the stock and so on. +Rather to my surprise, he didn't offer any objection. Said that my work +had been of so much help elsewhere that he would be glad to have me +watch the engravers' work.</p> + +<p>"It was there that I got my first real lead—at least I hope it's a +lead. Back of the engraving department is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> small room, locked and +padlocked, where the boss is supposed to ride his personal hobby of +amateur photography. I asked one of the men the reason for guarding a +dark room so carefully, and he replied that Thurene claimed to be on the +verge of making a great discovery in color photography, but that the +process took a long time and he didn't want to run the risk of having it +disturbed. I'm to have a look at his color process to-night."</p> + +<p>"What?" cried Graham. "He's going to show you what is in the +double-locked room?"</p> + +<p>"That's what he's promised to do. I haven't the least hope of seeing +anything incriminating—all the evidence will probably be well +hidden—but this morning I expressed a casual interest in photography +and remarked that I understood he was working on a new color process. I +did it mainly to see how he would react. But he never batted an eyelid. +'I've been making some interesting experiments recently,' he said, 'and +they ought to reach a climax to-night. If you'd care to see how they +turn out, suppose you meet me here at nine o'clock and we'll examine +them together.'"</p> + +<p>"But Rita," Graham protested, "you don't mean to say that you're going +to put yourself entirely in this man's power?"</p> + +<p>The girl's first answer was a laugh, and then, "What do you mean, 'put +myself in his power'?" she mocked. "You talk like the hero of a +melodrama. This isn't the first time that I've been alone in the store +with him after dark. Besides, he doesn't suspect a thing and it's too +good a chance to miss. Meet me here the first thing in the +morning—around eight-thirty—and I'll give you the details of Thurene's +secret chamber, provided it contains anything interesting."</p> + +<p>"Rita, I can't—" Graham started to argue, but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> girl cut in with, +"You can't stop me? No, you can't. What's more, I'll have to hurry. It's +ten minutes to nine now. See you in the morning."</p> + +<p>The next thing Graham knew she had slipped away from the table and was +on her way out of the grille.</p> + +<p>When Rita reached the Thurene establishment, promptly at nine, she found +the proprietor waiting for her.</p> + +<p>"On time, as usual," he laughed. "Now you'd better keep your hat and +coat on. There's no heat in the dark room and I don't want you to catch +cold. The plates ought to be ready by this time. We'll go right down and +take a look at them."</p> + +<p>Guided by the light from the lantern which the stationer held high in +the air, the girl started down the steps leading to the basement where +the engraving department was located. She heard Thurene close the door +behind him, but failed to hear him slip the bolt which, as they +afterward found, had been well oiled.</p> + +<p>In fact, it was not until they had reached the center of the large room, +in one corner of which was the door to the private photographic +laboratory, that she knew anything was wrong. Then it was too late.</p> + +<p>Before she could move, Thurene leaned forward and seized her—one arm +about her waist, the other over her mouth. Struggle as she might, Rita +was unable to move. Slowly, relentlessly, Thurene turned her around +until she faced him, and then, with a sudden movement of the arm that +encircled her waist, secured a wad of cotton waste, which he had +evidently prepared for just such an emergency. When he had crammed this +in the girl's mouth and tied her hands securely, he moved forward to +open the door to the dark room.</p> + +<p>"Thought I was easy, didn't you?" he sneered. "Didn't think I'd see +through your scheme to get a position here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> and your infernal cleverness +with the books and the accounts? Want to see something of my color +process, eh? Well, you'll have an opportunity to study it at your +leisure, for it'll be twelve good hours before anyone comes down here, +and by that time I'll be where the rest of your crowd can't touch me."</p> + +<p>"Come along! In with you!"</p> + +<p>At that moment there was a crash of glass from somewhere near the +ceiling and something leaped into the room—something that took only two +strides to reach Thurene and back him up against the wall, with the +muzzle of a very businesslike automatic pressed into the pit of his +stomach.</p> + +<p>The whole thing happened so quickly that by the time Rita recovered her +balance and turned around she only saw the stationer with his hands well +above his head and Spencer Graham—her Spencer—holding him up at the +point of a gun.</p> + +<p>"Take this," snapped the operative, producing a penknife, "and cut that +girl's hands loose! No false moves now—or I'm likely to get nervous!"</p> + +<p>A moment later Rita was free and Thurene had resumed his position +against the wall.</p> + +<p>"Frisk him!" ordered Graham, and then, when the girl had produced a +miscellaneous collection of money, keys and jewelry from the man's +pockets, Spencer allowed him to drop his arms long enough to snap a pair +of handcuffs in place.</p> + +<p>"This time," announced the Secret Service man, "you won't be released +merely because of a fake ad. and the testimony of your friends. Pretty +clever scheme, that. Inserting a 'found advertisement' to cover your +possession of counterfeit money in case you were caught. But you +overlooked a couple of points. The station in Baltimore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> was thoroughly +swept just five minutes before your train arrived from New York and +every man on duty there is ready to swear that he wouldn't have +overlooked anything as large as the envelope containing that phony +money. Then, too, the clerk in the <i>News</i> office received your +advertisement shortly after noon the next day—so you didn't advertise +it 'at once,' as you said you did.</p> + +<p>"But your biggest mistake was in playing the game too often. +Here"—producing a page from the classified section of a New York +newspaper—"is the duplicate of your Baltimore ad., inserted to cover +your tracks in case they caught you at Jamaica. I've got the original, +in your handwriting, in my pocket."</p> + +<p>"But how'd you happen to arrive here at the right moment?" exclaimed +Rita.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't any too well convinced that you'd fooled our friend here," +Graham replied. "So I trailed you, and, attracted by the light from +Thurene's lantern, managed to break in that window at the time you +needed me."</p> + +<p>"There's only one thing that puzzles me," the operative continued, +turning to Thurene. "What made you take up counterfeiting? Your business +record was clear enough before that, and, of course, being an engraver, +it wasn't hard for you to find the opportunity. What was the motive?"</p> + +<p>For a full sixty seconds the man was silent and then, from between his +clenched teeth, came two words, "Wall Street."</p> + +<p>"I might have guessed that," replied Graham. "I'll see you safely in +jail first and then have a look through your room. Want to come along, +Rita?"</p> + +<p>"No, thanks, Spencer. I've had enough for one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> evening. Let's see. This +is the sixth of December. Suppose we plan a certain event for the sixth +of January?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"And so they were married and lived happily ever after?" I added, as +Quinn paused.</p> + +<p>"And so they were married," he amended. "I can't say as to the rest of +it—though I'm inclined to believe that they were happy. Anyhow, Rita +knew when she had enough—and that's all you can really ask for in a +wife."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2> + +<h3>IN THE SHADOW OF THE CAPITOL</h3> + + +<p>"It won't be long until they're all back—with their pretty clothes and +their jeweled bags and their air of innocent sophistication—but until +at least a dozen of them gather here Washington won't be itself again."</p> + +<p>Bill Quinn and I had been discussing the change which had come over +Washington since peace had disrupted the activities of the various war +organizations, and then, after a pause, the former member of the Secret +Service had referred to "them" and to "their pretty clothes."</p> + +<p>"Who do you mean?" I inquired. "With the possible exception of some +prominent politicians I don't know anyone whose presence is essential to +make Washington 'itself again.' And certainly nobody ever accused +politicians, with the possible exception of J. Ham Lewis, of wearing +pretty clothes. Even he didn't carry a jeweled bag."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't thinking of Congressmen or Senators or even members of the +Cabinet," replied Quinn with a smile. "Like the poor, they are always +with us, and also like the poor, there are times when we would willingly +dispense with them. But the others—they make life worth living, +particularly for members of the Secret Service, who are apt to be a bit +bored with the monotony of chasing counterfeiters and guarding the +President.</p> + +<p>"The ones I refer to are the beautifully gowned women whose too perfect +English often betrays their foreign<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> origin almost as certainly as would +a dialect. They are sent here by various governments abroad to find out +things which we would like to keep secret and their presence helps to +keep Washington cosmopolitan and—interesting.</p> + +<p>"During the war—well, if you recall the case of Jimmy Callahan and the +electric sign at Norfolk—the affair which I believe you wrote under the +title of 'A Flash in the Night'—you know what happened to those who +were caught plotting against the government. In times of peace, however, +things are different."</p> + +<p>"Why? Isn't a spy always a spy?"</p> + +<p>"So far as their work is concerned they are. But by a sort of +international agreement, tacit but understood, those who seek to pry +into the affairs of other governments during the years of peace are not +treated with the same severity as when a nation is fighting for its +life."</p> + +<p>"But surely we have no secrets that a foreign government would want!" I +protested. "That's one of the earmarks of a republic. Everything is +aired in the open, even dirty linen."</p> + +<p>Quinn didn't answer for a moment, and when he did reply there was a +reminiscent little smile playing around the corners of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the disappearance of the plans of the battleship +<i>Pennsylvania</i>?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I do. But as I recall it the matter was never cleared up."</p> + +<p>"Officially, it wasn't. Unofficially, it was. At least there are several +persons connected with the United States Secret Service who are positive +that Sylvia Sterne lifted the blue prints and afterward—well, we might +as well begin the story at the first chapter."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> + +<p>The name she was known by on this side of the Atlantic [continued the +former government agent] was not that of Sterne, though subsequent +investigations proved that that was what she was called in Paris and +Vienna and Rome and London. When she arrived in Washington her visiting +cards bore the name of the Countess Stefani, and as there are half a +dozen counts of that name to be found in the peerages of as many +principalities, no one inquired too deeply into her antecedents.</p> + +<p>Yes, she admitted that there was a count somewhere in the background, +but she led those who were interested to the conclusion he had never +understood her peculiar temperament and that therefore she was +sojourning in Washington, seeking pleasure and nothing more. A slow, +soulful glance from her violet eyes usually accompanied the +statement—and caused the man to whom the statement was made (it was +always a man) to wonder how anyone could fail to appreciate so charming +a creature.</p> + +<p>"Charming" is really a very good word to apply to the Countess Sylvia. +Her manner was charming and her work was likewise. Charming secrets and +invitations and news out of those with whom she came in contact.</p> + +<p>Her first public appearance, so far as the Secret Service was concerned, +was at one of the receptions at the British embassy. She was there on +invitation, of course, but it was an invitation secured in her own +original way.</p> + +<p>Immediately upon arriving in Washington she had secured an apartment at +Brickley Court, an apartment which chanced to be directly across the +hall from the one occupied by a Mrs. Sheldon, a young widow with a +rather large acquaintance in the diplomatic set.</p> + +<p>Some ten days after the Countess Sylvia took up her residence on +Connecticut Avenue she visited one of the department stores and made +several purchases, ordering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> them sent C. O. D. to her apartment. Only, +instead of giving the number as four thirty-six, her tongue apparently +slipped and she said four thirty-seven, which was Mrs. Sheldon's number. +Of course, if the parcels had been paid for or charged they would have +been left at the desk in the lobby, but, being collect, the boy brought +them to the door of four thirty-seven.</p> + +<p>As was only natural, Mrs. Sheldon was about to order them returned when +the door across the hall opened and the countess, attired in one of her +most fetching house gowns, appeared and explained the mistake.</p> + +<p>"How stupid of me!" she exclaimed. "I must have given the girl the wrong +apartment number. I'm awfully sorry for troubling you, Mrs. Sheldon."</p> + +<p>The widow, being young, could not restrain the look of surprise when her +name was mentioned by a woman who was an utter stranger, but the +countess cut right in with:</p> + +<p>"You probably don't remember me, but we met two years ago on Derby Day +in London. The count and I had the pleasure of meeting you through Lord +Cartwright, but it was just before the big race, and when I looked +around again you had been swallowed up in the crowd."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sheldon had been at the Derby two years before, as the countess +doubtless knew before she arrived in Washington, and also she remembered +having met a number of persons during that eventful afternoon. So the +rest was easy for Sylvia, particularly as the first half hour of their +conversation uncovered the fact that they had many mutual friends, all +of whom, however, were in Europe.</p> + +<p>Through Mrs. Sheldon the countess met a number of the younger and lesser +lights of the Diplomatic Corps and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> the invitation to the reception at +the British Embassy was hers for the suggestion.</p> + +<p>Before the evening was over several men were asking themselves where +they had met that "very charming countess" before. Some thought it must +have been in Paris, others were certain that it was in Vienna, and still +others maintained that her face brought back memories of their detail in +Saint Petersburg (the name of the Russian capital had not then been +altered). Sylvia didn't enlighten any of them. Neither did she volunteer +details, save of the vaguest nature, contenting herself with knowing +glances which hinted much and bits of frothy gossip which conveyed +nothing. The beauty of her face and the delicate curves of her figure +did the rest. Before the evening was over she had met at least the +younger members of all the principal embassies and legations, not to +mention three men whose names appeared upon the roster of the Senate +Committee on Foreign Relations.</p> + +<p>To one of these, Senator Lattimer, she paid particular attention, +assuring him that she would be honored if he would "drop in some +afternoon for tea," an invitation which the gentleman from Iowa accepted +with alacrity a few days later.</p> + +<p>As was afterward apparent, the countess had arranged her schedule with +considerable care. She had arrived in Washington early in the fall, and +by the time the season was well under way she had the entrée to the +majority of the semiprivate functions—teas and receptions and dances to +which a number of guests were invited. Here, of course, she had an +opportunity to pick up a few morsels of information—crumbs which fell +from the tables of diplomacy—but that wasn't what she was after. She +wanted a copy of a certain confidential report referring to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> American +relations abroad, and, what's more, she'd have gotten it if she hadn't +overstepped herself.</p> + +<p>Through what might have been termed in vulgar circles "pumping" Senator +Lattimer, though the countess's casual inquiries from time to time +evinced only a natural interest in the affairs of the world, Sylvia +found out that the report would be completed early in March and that a +copy would be in the Senator's office for at least two days—or, what +interested her more, two nights.</p> + +<p>She didn't intimate that she would like to see it. That would have been +too crude. In fact, she deftly turned the subject and made the Senator +believe that she was interested only in his views with respect to the +stabilization of currency or some such topic far removed from the point +they had mentioned.</p> + +<p>Just before he left, however, Senator Lattimer mentioned that there was +going to be a big display of fireworks around the Washington Monument +the following evening, and inquired if the countess would be interested +in witnessing the celebration.</p> + +<p>"Surely," said she. "Why not let's watch them from the roof here? We +ought to able to get an excellent view."</p> + +<p>"I've got a better idea than that," was the senatorial reply. "We'll go +down to the State, War, and Navy Building. The windows on the south side +ought to be ideal for that purpose and there won't be any trouble about +getting in. I'll see to that," he added, with just a touch of pomposity.</p> + +<p>So it happened that among the dozen or more persons who occupied choice +seats in a room in the Navy Department that next night were the Hon. +Arthur H. Lattimer and the Countess Stefani.</p> + +<p>The next morning it was discovered that plans relating to certain recent +naval improvements—radical changes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> which were to be incorporated in +the battleship <i>Pennsylvania</i>—were missing.</p> + +<p>The chief learned of the loss about nine-thirty, and by ten o'clock +every available man was turned loose on the case, with instructions to +pry into the past records and watch the future actions of the people who +had been in the room on the previous evening.</p> + +<p>Because he particularly requested it, Owen Williams, whose connection +with the Secret Service was not a matter of general information, was +detailed to learn what he could of the Countess Stefani.</p> + +<p>"I've run into her a couple of times recently," he told the chief, "and +there's something not altogether on the level about the lady. I don't +suppose we have time to cable abroad and trace the particular branch of +the family to which she claims to belong, but I have a hunch that she is +not working altogether in the interest of Europe. A certain +yellow-skinned person whom we both know has been seen coming out of +Brickley Court on several occasions within the past month, and—well, +the countess is worth watching."</p> + +<p>"Trail her, then!" snapped the chief. "The department has asked for +quick action in this case, for there are reasons which render it +inadvisable for those plans to get out of the country."</p> + +<p>"Right!" replied Williams, settling his hat at a rather jaunty angle and +picking up his gloves and stick. "I'll keep in close touch with you and +report developments. If you want me within the next couple of hours I'll +probably be somewhere around Brickley Court. The countess never rises +until round noon."</p> + +<p>But that morning, as Williams soon discovered, something appeared to +have interfered with the routine of the fair Sylvia. She had called the +office about nine o'clock,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> made an inquiry about the New York trains, +ordered a chair reserved on the eleven and a taxi for ten forty-five. +All of which gave Owen just enough time to phone the chief, tell him of +the sudden change in his plans, and suggest that the countess's room be +searched during her absence.</p> + +<p>"Tell New York to have some one pick up Stefani as soon as she arrives," +Williams concluded. "I'm going to renew my acquaintance with her en +route, find out where she's staying, and frame an excuse for being at +the same hotel. But I may not be able to accompany her there, so have +some one trail her from the station. I'll make any necessary reports +through the New York office."</p> + +<p>Just after the train pulled out of Baltimore the Countess Stefani saw a +young and distinctly handsome man, whose face was vaguely familiar, rise +from his seat at the far end of the car and come toward her. Then, as he +reached her chair he halted, surprised.</p> + +<p>"This is luck!" he exclaimed. "I never hoped to find you on the train, +Countess! Going through to New York, of course?"</p> + +<p>As he spoke the man's name came back to her, together with the fact that +he had been pointed out as one of the eligible young bachelors who +apparently did but little and yet had plenty of money to do it with.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Williams! You gave me a bit of a start at first. Your face was +in the shadow and I didn't recognize you. Yes, I'm just running up for a +little shopping. Won't be gone for more than a day or two, for I must be +back in time for the de Maury dance on Thursday evening. You are going, +I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Thankful for the opening, Williams occupied the vacant chair next to +hers, and before they reached Havre de Grace they were deep in a +discussion of people and affairs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> in Washington. It was not Williams's +intention, however, to allow the matter to stop there. Delicately, but +certainly, he led the conversation into deeper channels, exerting every +ounce of his personality to convince the countess that this was a moment +for which he had longed, an opportunity to chat uninterruptedly with +"the most charming woman in Washington."</p> + +<p>"This is certainly the shortest five hours I've ever spent," he assured +his companion as the porter announced their arrival at Manhattan +Transfer. "Can't I see something more of you while we are in New York? +I'm not certain when I'll get back to Washington and this glimpse has +been far too short. Are you going to stop with friends?"</p> + +<p>"No—at the Vanderbilt. Suppose you call up to-morrow morning and I'll +see what I can do."</p> + +<p>"Why not a theater party this evening?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, but I have an engagement."</p> + +<p>"Right—to-morrow morning, then," and the operative said good-by with a +clear conscience, having noted that one of the men from the New York +office was already on the job.</p> + +<p>Later in the evening he was informed that the countess had gone directly +to her hotel, had dressed for dinner, and then, after waiting in the +lobby for nearly an hour, had eaten a solitary meal and had gone back to +her room, leaving word at the desk that she was to be notified +immediately if anyone called. But no one had.</p> + +<p>The next morning, instead of phoning, Williams dropped around to the +Vanderbilt and had a short session with the house detective, who had +already been notified that the Countess Stefani was being watched by +Secret Service operatives. The house man, however, verified the report +of the operative who had picked up the countess at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> station—she had +received no callers and had seen no one save the maid.</p> + +<p>"Any phone messages?"</p> + +<p>"Not one."</p> + +<p>"Any mail?"</p> + +<p>"Just a newspaper, evidently one that a friend had mailed from +Washington. The address was in a feminine hand and—"</p> + +<p>"Tell the maid that I want the wrapper of that paper if it's in the +countess's room," interrupted Williams. "I don't want the place searched +for it, but if it happens to be in the wastebasket be sure I get it."</p> + +<p>A moment later he was calling the Countess Stefani, presumably from the +office of a friend of his in Wall Street.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I can't see you to-day," and Sylvia's voice appeared to +register infinite regret. "I wasn't able to complete a little business +deal I had on last night—succumbed to temptation and went to the +theater, so I'll have to pay for it to-day." (Here Williams suppressed a +chuckle, both at the manner in which the lady handled the truth and at +the fact that she was palpably ignorant that she had been shadowed.) +"I'm returning to Washington on the Congressional, but I'll be sure to +see you at the de Maurys', won't I? Please come down—for my sake!"</p> + +<p>"I'll do it," was Owen's reply, "and I can assure you that my return to +Washington will be entirely because I feel that I must see you again. Au +revoir, until Thursday night."</p> + +<p>"On the Congressional Limited, eh?" he muttered as he stepped out of the +booth. "Maybe it's a stall, but I'll make the train just the same. +Evidently one of the lady's plans has gone amiss."</p> + +<p>"Here's the wrapper you wanted," said the house<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> detective, producing a +large torn envelope, slit lengthwise and still showing by its rounded +contour that it had been used to inclose a rolled newspaper.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," replied Williams, as he glanced at the address. "I thought +so."</p> + +<p>"Thought what?"</p> + +<p>"Come over here a minute," and he steered the detective to the desk, +where he asked to be shown the register for the preceding day. Then, +pointing to the name "Countess Sylvia Stefani" on the hotel sheet and to +the same name on the wrapper, he asked, "Note everything?"</p> + +<p>"The handwriting is the same!"</p> + +<p>"Precisely. The countess mailed this paper herself at this hotel before +she left Washington. And, if I'm not very much mistaken, she'll mail +another one to herself in Washington, before she leaves New York."</p> + +<p>"You want it intercepted?"</p> + +<p>"I do not! If Sylvia is willing to trust the Post-office Department with +her secret, I certainly am. But I intend to be on hand when that paper +arrives."</p> + +<p>Sure enough, just before leaving for the station that afternoon, +Williams found out from his ally at the Vanderbilt that the countess had +slipped a folded and addressed newspaper into the mail box in the lobby. +She had then paid her bill and entered a taxi, giving the chauffeur +instructions to drive slowly through Central Park. Sibert, the operative +who was trailing her, reported that several times she appeared to be on +the point of stopping, but had ordered the taxi driver to go +on—evidently being suspicious that she was followed and not wishing to +take any chances.</p> + +<p>Of this, though, Williams knew nothing—for a glance into one of the +cars on the Congressional Limited had been sufficient to assure him that +his prey was aboard. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> spent the rest of the trip in the smoker, so +that he might not run into her.</p> + +<p>In Washington, however, a surprise awaited him.</p> + +<p>Instead of returning at once to Brickley Court, the countess checked her +bag at the station and hired a car by the hour, instructing the driver +to take her to the Chevy Chase Club. Williams, of course, followed in +another car, but had the ill fortune to lose the first taxi in the crush +of machines which is always to be noted on dance nights at the club, and +it was well on toward morning before he could locate the chauffeur he +wanted to reach.</p> + +<p>According to that individual, the lady had not gone into the club, at +all, but, changing her mind, had driven on out into the country, +returning to Washington at midnight.</p> + +<p>"Did she meet anyone?" demanded Williams.</p> + +<p>"Not a soul, sir. Said she just wanted to drive through the country and +that she had to be at the Senate Office Building at twelve o'clock."</p> + +<p>"The Senate Office Building?" echoed the operative. "At midnight? Did +you drop her there?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir. She told me to wait and she was out again in five minutes, +using the little door in the basement—the one that's seldom locked. I +thought she was the wife of one of the Senators. Then I drove her to +Union Station to get her bag, and then to Brickley Court, where she paid +me and got out."</p> + +<p>The moment the chauffeur had mentioned the Senate Office Building a +mental photograph of Senator Lattimer had sprung to Williams's mind, for +the affair between the countess and the Iowa statesman was public +property.</p> + +<p>Telling the chauffeur to wait in the outer room, the operative called +the Lattimer home and insisted on speaking to the Senator.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, it's a matter of vital importance!" he snapped. Then, a few +moments later, when a gruff but sleepy voice inquired what he wanted:</p> + +<p>"This is Williams of the Secret Service speaking, Senator. Have you any +documents of importance—international importance—in your office at the +present moment?"</p> + +<p>"No, nothing of particular value. Wait a minute! A copy of a certain +report to the Committee on Foreign Relations arrived late yesterday and +I remember seeing it on my desk as I left. Why? What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—except that I don't think that report is there now," replied +Williams. "Can you get to your office in ten minutes?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be there!"</p> + +<p>But a thorough search by the two of them failed to reveal any trace of +the document. It had gone—vanished—in spite of the fact that the door +was locked as usual.</p> + +<p>"Senator," announced the government agent, "a certain woman you know +took that paper. She got in here with a false key, lifted the report and +was out again in less than five minutes. The theft occurred shortly +after midnight and—"</p> + +<p>"If you know so much about it, why don't you arrest her?"</p> + +<p>"I shall—before the hour is up. Only I thought you might like to know +in advance how your friend the Countess Stefani worked. She was also +responsible for the theft of the plans of the battleship <i>Pennsylvania</i>, +you know."</p> + +<p>And Williams was out of the room before the look of amazement had faded +from the Senator's face.</p> + +<p>Some thirty minutes later the Countess Sylvia was awakened by the sound +of continued rapping on her door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> In answer to her query, "Who's +there?" a man's voice replied, "Open this door, or I'll break it in!"</p> + +<p>Williams, however, knew that his threat was an idle one, for the doors +at Brickley Court were built of solid oak that defied anything short of +a battering ram. Which was the reason that he had to wait a full five +minutes, during which time he distinctly heard the sound of paper +rattling and then the rasp of a match as it was struck.</p> + +<p>Finally the countess, attired in a bewitching negligée, threw open the +door.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she exclaimed. "So it is you, Mr. Williams! What do you—"</p> + +<p>"You know what I want," growled Owen. "That paper you stole from +Lattimer's office to-night. Also the plans you lifted from the Navy +Department. The ones you mailed in New York yesterday afternoon and +which were waiting for you here!"</p> + +<p>"Find them!" was the woman's mocking challenge as Williams's eyes roved +over the room and finally rested on a pile of crumbled ashes beside an +alcohol lamp on the table. A moment's examination told him that a blue +print had been burned, but it was impossible to tell what it had been, +and there was no trace of any other paper in the ashes.</p> + +<p>"Search her!" he called to a woman in the corridor. "I'm going to rifle +the mail-box downstairs. She can't get away with the same trick three +times!"</p> + +<p>And there, in an innocent-looking envelope addressed to a certain +personage whose name stood high on the diplomatic list, Williams +discovered the report for which a woman risked her liberty and gambled +six months of her life!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"But the plans?" I asked as Quinn finished.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Evidently that was what she had burned. She'd taken care to crumple the +ashes so that it was an impossibility to get a shred of direct evidence, +not that it would have made any difference if she hadn't. The government +never prosecutes matters of this kind, except in time of war. They +merely warn the culprit to leave the country and never return—which is +the reason that, while you'll find a number of very interesting +foreigners in Washington at the present moment, the Countess Sylvia +Stefani is not among them. Neither is the personage to whom her letter +was addressed. He was 'recalled' a few weeks later."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> + +<h3>A MILLION-DOLLAR QUARTER</h3> + + +<p>"What's in the phial?" I inquired one evening, as Bill Quinn, formerly +of the United States Secret Service, picked up a small brown bottle from +the table in his den and slipped it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Saccharine," retorted Quinn, laconically. "Had to come to it in order +to offset the sugar shortage. No telling how long it will continue, and, +meanwhile, we're conserving what we have on hand. So I carry my 'lump +sugar' in my vest pocket, and I'll keep on doing it until conditions +improve. They say the trouble lies at the importing end. Can't secure +enough sugar at the place where the ships are or enough ships at the +place where the sugar is.</p> + +<p>"This isn't the first time that sugar has caused trouble, either. See +that twenty-five-cent piece up there on the wall? Apparently it's an +ordinary everyday quarter. But it cost the government well over a +million dollars, money which should have been paid in as import duty on +tons upon tons of sugar.</p> + +<p>"Yes, back of that quarter lies a case which is absolutely unique in the +annals of governmental detective work—the biggest and most far-reaching +smuggling plot ever discovered and the one which took the longest time +to solve.</p> + +<p>"Nine years seems like a mighty long time to work on a single +assignment, but when you consider that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> Treasury collected more than +two million dollars as a direct result of one man's labor during that +time, you'll see that it was worth while."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The whole thing really started when Dick Carr went to work as a sugar +sampler [continued Quinn, his eyes fixed meditatively upon the quarter +on the wall].</p> + +<p>Some one had tipped the department off to the fact that phony sampling +of some sort was being indulged in and Dick managed to get a place as +assistant on one of the docks where the big sugar ships unloaded. As you +probably know, there's a big difference in the duty on the different +grades of raw sugar; a difference based upon the tests made by expert +chemists as soon as the cargo is landed. Sugar which is only ninety-two +per cent pure, for example, comes in half-a-cent a pound cheaper than +that which is ninety-six per cent pure, and the sampling is accomplished +by inserting a thin glass tube through the wide meshes of the bag or +basket which contains the sugar.</p> + +<p>It didn't take Carr very long to find out that the majority of the +samplers were slipping their tubes into the bags at an angle, instead of +shoving them straight in, and that a number of them made a practice of +moistening the outside of the container before they made their tests. +The idea, of course, was that the sugar which had absorbed moisture, +either during the voyage or after reaching the dock—would not "assay" +as pure as would the dry material in the center of the package. A few +experiments, conducted under the cover of night, showed a difference of +four to six per cent in the grade of the samples taken from the inside +of the bag and that taken from a point close to the surface, +particularly if even a small amount of water had been judiciously +applied.</p> + +<p>The difference, when translated into terms of a half-a-cent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> a pound +import duty, didn't take long to run up into hundreds of thousands of +dollars, and Carr's report, made after several months' investigating, +cost a number of sugar samplers their jobs and brought the wrath of the +government down upon the companies which had been responsible for the +practice.</p> + +<p>After such an exposure as this, you might think that the sugar people +would have been content to take their legitimate profit and to pay the +duty levied by law. But Carr had the idea that they would try to put +into operation some other scheme for defrauding the Treasury and during +years that followed he kept in close touch with the importing situation +and the personnel of the men employed on the docks.</p> + +<p>The active part he had played in the sugar-sampling exposure naturally +prevented his active participation in any attempt to uncover the fraud +from the inside, but it was the direct cause of his being summoned to +Washington when a discharged official of one of the sugar companies +filed a charge that the government was losing five hundred thousand +dollars a year by the illicit operations at a single plant.</p> + +<p>"Frankly, I haven't the slightest idea of how it's being done," +confessed the official in question. "But I am certain that some kind of +a swindle is being perpetrated on a large scale. Here's the proof!"</p> + +<p>With that he produced two documents—one the bill of lading of the +steamer <i>Murbar</i>, showing the amount of sugar on board when she cleared +Java, and the other the official receipt, signed by a representative of +the sugar company, for her cargo when she reached New York.</p> + +<p>"As you will note," continued the informant, "the bill of lading clearly +shows that the <i>Murbar</i> carried eleven million seven hundred thirty-four +thousand six hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> eighty-seven pounds of raw sugar. Yet, when +weighed under the supervision of the customhouse officials a few weeks +later, the cargo consisted of only eleven million thirty-two thousand +and sixteen pounds—a 'shrinkage' of seven hundred two thousand six +hundred seventy-one pounds, about six per cent of the material +shipment."</p> + +<p>"And at the present import duty that would amount to about—"</p> + +<p>"In the neighborhood of twelve thousand dollars loss on this ship +alone," stated the former sugar official. "Allowing for the arrival of +anywhere from fifty to a hundred ships a year, you can figure the annual +deficit for yourself."</p> + +<p>Carr whistled. He had rather prided himself upon uncovering the sampling +frauds a few years previously, but this bade fair to be a far bigger +case—one which would tax every atom of his ingenuity to uncover.</p> + +<p>"How long has this been going on?" inquired the acting Secretary of the +Treasury.</p> + +<p>"I can't say," admitted the informant. "Neither do I care to state how I +came into possession of these documents. But, as you will find when you +look into the matter, they are entirely authoritative and do not refer +to an isolated case. The <i>Murbar</i> is the rule, not the exception. It's +now up to you people to find out how the fraud was worked."</p> + +<p>"He's right, at that," was the comment from the acting Secretary, when +the former sugar official had departed. "The information is undoubtedly +the result of a personal desire to 'get even'—for our friend recently +lost his place with the company in question. However, that hasn't the +slightest bearing upon the truth of his charges. Carr, it's up to you to +find out what there is in 'em!"</p> + +<p>"That's a man-sized order, Mr. Secretary," smiled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> Dick, "especially as +the work I did some time ago on the sampling frauds made me about as +popular as the plague with the sugar people. If I ever poked my nose on +the docks at night you'd be out the price of a big bunch of white roses +the next day!"</p> + +<p>"Which means that you don't care to handle the case?"</p> + +<p>"Not so that you could notice it!" snapped Carr. "I merely wanted you to +realize the handicaps under which I'll be working, so that there won't +be any demand for instant developments. This case is worth a million +dollars if it's worth a cent. And, because it is so big, it will take a +whole lot longer to round up the details than if we were working on a +matter that concerned only a single individual. If you remember, it took +Joe Gregory nearly six months to land Phyllis Dodge, and therefore—"</p> + +<p>"Therefore it ought to take about sixty years to get to the bottom of +this case, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly that long. But I would like an assurance that I can dig into +this in my own way and that there won't be any 'Hurry up!' message sent +from this end every week or two."</p> + +<p>"That's fair enough," agreed the Assistant Secretary. "You know the ins +and outs of the sugar game better than any man in the service. So hop to +it and take your time. We'll content ourselves with sitting back and +awaiting developments."</p> + +<p>Armed with this assurance, Carr went back to New York and began +carefully and methodically to lay his plans for the biggest game ever +hunted by a government detective—a ring protected by millions of +dollars in capital and haunted by the fear that its operations might +some day be discovered.</p> + +<p>In spite of the fact that it was necessary to work entirely in the dark, +Dick succeeded in securing the manifests<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> and bills of lading of three +other sugar ships which had recently been unloaded, together with copies +of the receipts of their cargoes. Every one of these indicated the same +mysterious shrinkage en route, amounting to about six per cent of the +entire shipment, and, as Carr figured it, there were but two +explanations which could cover the matter.</p> + +<p>Either a certain percentage of the sugar had been removed from the hold +and smuggled into the country before the ship reached New York, or there +was a conspiracy of some kind which involved a number of the weighers on +the docks.</p> + +<p>"The first supposition," argued Carr, "is feasible but hardly within the +bounds of probability. If the shortage had occurred in a shipment of +gold or something else which combines high value with small volume, +that's where I'd look for the leak. But when it comes to hundreds of +thousands of pounds of sugar—that's something else. You can't carry +that around in your pockets or even unload it without causing comment +and employing so many assistants that the risk would be extremely great.</p> + +<p>"No, the answer must lie right here on the docks—just as it did in the +sampling cases."</p> + +<p>So it was on the docks that he concentrated his efforts, working through +the medium of a girl named Louise Wood, whom he planted as a file clerk +and general assistant in the offices of the company which owned the +<i>Murbar</i> and a number of other sugar ships.</p> + +<p>This, of course, wasn't accomplished in a day, nor yet in a month. As a +matter of fact, it was February when Carr was first assigned to the case +and it was late in August when the Wood girl went to work. But, as Dick +figured it, this single success was worth all the time and trouble spent +in preparing for it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p> + +<p>It would be hard, therefore, to give any adequate measure of his +disappointment when the girl informed him that everything in her office +appeared to be straight and aboveboard.</p> + +<p>"You know, Dick," reported Louise, after she had been at work for a +couple of months, "I'm not the kind that can have the wool pulled over +my eyes. If there was anything crooked going on, I'd spot it before +they'd more than laid their first plans. But I've had the opportunity of +going over the files and the records and it's all on the level."</p> + +<p>"Then how are you to account for the discrepancies between the bills of +lading and the final receipts?" queried Carr, almost stunned by the +girl's assurance.</p> + +<p>"That's what I don't know," she admitted. "It certainly looks queer, but +of course it is possible that the men who ship the sugar deliberately +falsify the records in order to get more money and that the company pays +these statements as a sort of graft. That I can't say. It doesn't come +under my department, as you know. Neither is it criminal. What I do know +is that the people on the dock have nothing to do with faking the +figures."</p> + +<p>"Sure you haven't slipped up anywhere and given them a suspicion as to +your real work?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely certain. I've done my work and done it well. That's what I +was employed for and that's what's given me access to the files. But, as +for suspicion—there hasn't been a trace of it!"</p> + +<p>It was in vain that Carr questioned and cross-questioned the girl. She +was sure of herself and sure of her information, positive that no +crooked work was being handled by the men who received the sugar when it +was unloaded from the incoming ships.</p> + +<p>Puzzled by the girl's insistence and stunned by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> failure of the plan +upon which he had banked so much, Carr gave the matter up as a bad +job—telling Louise that she could stop her work whenever she wished, +but finally agreeing to her suggestion that she continue to hold her +place on the bare chance of uncovering a lead.</p> + +<p>"Of course," concluded the girl, "you may be right, after all. They may +have covered their tracks so thoroughly that I haven't been able to pick +up the scent. I really don't believe that they have—but it's worth the +gamble to me if it is to you."</p> + +<p>More than a month passed before the significance of this speech dawned +upon Dick, and then only when he chanced to be walking along Fifth +Avenue one Saturday afternoon and saw Louise coming out of Tiffany's +with a small cubical package in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Tiffany's—" he muttered. "I wonder—"</p> + +<p>Then, entering the store, he sought out the manager and stated that he +would like to find out what a lady, whom he described, had just +purchased. The flash of his badge which accompanied this request turned +the trick.</p> + +<p>"Of course, it's entirely against our rules," explained the store +official, "but we are always glad to do anything in our power to assist +the government. Just a moment. I'll call the clerk who waited on her."</p> + +<p>"The lady," he reported a few minutes later, "gave her name as Miss +Louise Wood and her address as—"</p> + +<p>"I know where she lives," snapped Carr. "What did she buy?"</p> + +<p>"A diamond and platinum ring."</p> + +<p>"The price?"</p> + +<p>"Eight hundred and fifty dollars."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said the operative and was out of the office before the +manager could frame any additional inquiries.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the Wood girl answered a rather imperative ring at the door of her +apartment she was distinctly surprised at the identity of her caller, +for she and Carr had agreed that it would not be wise for them to meet +except by appointment in some out-of-the-way place.</p> + +<p>"Dick!" she exclaimed. "What brings you here? Do you think it's safe?"</p> + +<p>"Safe or not," replied the operative, entering and closing the door +behind him. "I'm here and here I'm going to stay until I find out +something. Where did you get the money to pay for that ring you bought +at Tiffany's to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Money? Ring?" echoed the girl. "What are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"You know well enough! Now don't stall. Come through! Where'd you get +it?"</p> + +<p>"An—an aunt died and left it to me," but the girl's pale face and +halting speech belied her words.</p> + +<p>"Try another one," sneered Carr. "Where did you get that eight hundred +and fifty dollars?"</p> + +<p>"What business is it of yours? Can't I spend my own money in my own way +without being trailed and hounded all over the city?"</p> + +<p>"You can spend your own money—the money you earn by working and the +money I pay you for keeping your eyes open on the dock as you please. +But—" and here Carr reached forward and grasped the girl's wrist, +drawing her slowly toward him, so that her eyes looked straight into +his, "when it comes to spending other money—money that you got for +keeping your mouth shut and putting it over on me—that's another +story."</p> + +<p>"I didn't, Dick; I didn't!"</p> + +<p>"Can you look me straight in the eyes and say that they haven't paid you +for being blind? That they didn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> suspect what you came to the dock +for, and declared you in on the split? No! I didn't think you could!"</p> + +<p>With that he flung her on a couch and moved toward the door. Just as his +hand touched the knob he heard a voice behind him, half sob and half +plea, cry, "Dick!"</p> + +<p>Reluctantly he turned.</p> + +<p>"Dick, as there's a God in heaven I didn't mean to double cross you. But +they were on to me from the first. They planted some stamps in my pocket +during the first week I was there and then gave me my choice of bein' +pulled for thieving or staying there at double pay. I didn't want to do +it, but they had the goods on me and I had to. They said all I had to do +was to tell you that nothing crooked was goin' on—and they'll pay me +well for it."</p> + +<p>"While you were also drawing money from me, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Sure I was, Dick. I couldn't ask you to stop my pay. You'd have +suspected. Besides, as soon as you were done with me, they were, too."</p> + +<p>"That's where the eight hundred and fifty dollars came from?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and a lot more. Oh, they pay well, all right!"</p> + +<p>For fully a minute there was silence in the little apartment, broken +only by the sobs of the girl on the couch. Finally Carr broke the +strain.</p> + +<p>"There's only one way for you to square yourself," he announced. "Tell +me everything you know—the truth and every word of it!"</p> + +<p>"That's just it, Dick. I don't know anything—for sure. There's +something goin' on. No doubt of that. But what it is I don't know. They +keep it under cover in the scale house."</p> + +<p>"In the scale house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; they don't allow anyone in there without a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> permit. Somebody +uptown tips 'em off whenever a special agent is coming down, so they can +fix things. But none of the staff knows, though nearly all of them are +drawin' extra money for keeping their mouths shut."</p> + +<p>"Who are the men who appear to be implicated?"</p> + +<p>"Mahoney, the checker for the company, and Derwent, the government +weigher."</p> + +<p>"Derwent!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's in on it, too. I tell you, Dick, the thing's bigger than you +ever dreamed. It's like an octopus, with tentacles that are fastened on +everyone connected with the place."</p> + +<p>"But no clue as to the location of the body of the beast?"</p> + +<p>"Can't you guess? You know the number of their office uptown. But +there's no use hoping to nab them. They're too well protected. I doubt +if you can even get at the bottom of the affair on the dock."</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt it!" Carr's chin had settled itself determinedly and his +mouth was a thin red line. "I'm going to give you a chance to redeem +yourself. Go back to work as usual on Monday. Don't let on, by word or +gesture, that anything has changed. Just await developments. If you'll +do that, I'll see that you're not implicated. More than that, I'll +acknowledge you at the proper time as my agent—planted there to double +cross the fraud gang. You'll have your money and your glory and your +satisfaction of having done the right thing, even though you didn't +intend to do it. Are you on?"</p> + +<p>"I am, Dick. I won't say a word. I promise!"</p> + +<p>"Good! You'll probably see me before long. But don't recognize me. +You'll be just one of the girls and it'll probably be necessary to +include you in the round-up. I'll fix that later. Good-by," and with +that he was off.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> + +<p>Not expecting that Carr would be able to complete his plans for at least +a week, Louise was startled when the operative arrived at the dock on +the following Monday morning. He had spent the previous day in +Washington, arranging details, and his appearance at the company's +office—while apparently casual—was part of the program mapped out in +advance. What was more, Carr had come to the dock from the station, so +as to prevent the "inside man" from flashing a warning of his arrival.</p> + +<p>Straight through the office he strode, his right hand swinging at his +side, his left thrust nonchalantly in the pocket of his topcoat.</p> + +<p>Before he had crossed halfway to the door of the scale room he was +interrupted by a burly individual, who demanded his business.</p> + +<p>"I want to see Mr. Derwent or Mr. Mahoney," replied Carr.</p> + +<p>"They're both engaged at present," was the answer. "Wait here, and I'll +tell them."</p> + +<p>"Get out of my road!" growled the operative, pulling back the lapel of +his coat sufficiently to afford a glimpse of his badge. "I'll see them +where they are," and before the guardian of the scale house door had +recovered from his astonishment Carr was well across the portals.</p> + +<p>The first thing that caught his eye was the figure of a man bending over +the weight beam of one of the big scales, while another man was making +some adjustments on the other side of the apparatus.</p> + +<p>Derwent, who was facing the door, was the first to see Carr, but before +he could warn his companion, the special agent was on top of them.</p> + +<p>"Who are you? What business have you in here?" demanded the government +weigher.</p> + +<p>"Carr is my name," replied Dick. "Possibly you've<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> heard of me. If so, +you know my business. Catching sugar crooks!"</p> + +<p>Derwent's face went white for a moment and then flushed a deep red. +Mahoney, however, failed to alter his position. He remained bending over +the weight beam, his finger nails scratching at something underneath.</p> + +<p>"Straighten up there!" ordered Carr. "You—Mahoney—I mean! Straighten +up!"</p> + +<p>"I'll see you in hell first!" snapped the other.</p> + +<p>"You'll be there soon enough if you don't get up!" was Carr's reply, as +his left hand emerged from his coat pocket, bringing to light the +blue-steel barrel of a forty-five. "Get—"</p> + +<p>Just at that moment, from a point somewhere near the door of the scale +room, came a shrill, high-pitched cry—a woman's voice:</p> + +<p>"Dick!" it called. "Lookout! Jump!"</p> + +<p>Instantly, involuntarily, the operative leaped sidewise, and as he did +so a huge bag of raw sugar crashed to the floor, striking directly on +the spot where he had stood.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Lou," called Carr, without turning his head. "You saved me that +time all right! Now, gentlemen, before any more bags drop, suppose we +adjourn uptown. We're less likely to be interrupted there," and he +sounded a police whistle, which brought a dozen assistants on the run.</p> + +<p>"Search Mahoney," he directed. "I don't think Derwent has anything on +him. What's that Mahoney has in his hand?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin' but a quarter, sir, an' what looks like an old wad o' chewin' +gum."</p> + +<p>Puzzled, Carr examined the coin. Then the explanation of the whole +affair flashed upon him as he investigated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> the weight-beam and found +fragments of gum adhering to the lower part, near the free end.</p> + +<p>"So that was the trick, eh?" he inquired. "Quite a delicate bit of +mechanism, this scale—in spite of the fact that it was designed to +weigh tons of material. Even a quarter, gummed on to the end of the +beam, would throw the whole thing out enough to make it well worth +while. I think this coin and the wad of gum will make very interesting +evidence—Exhibits A and B—at the trial, after we've rounded up the +rest of you."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"And that," concluded Quinn, "is the story which lies behind that +twenty-five-cent piece—probably the most valuable bit of money, judged +from the standpoint of what it has accomplished, in the world."</p> + +<p>"Derwent and Mahoney?" I asked. "What happened to them? And did Carr +succeed in landing the men higher up?"</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately," and Quinn smiled rather ruefully, "there is such a +thing as the power of money. The government brought suit against the +sugar companies implicated in the fraud and commenced criminal +proceedings against the men directly responsible for the manipulation of +the scales. (It developed that they had another equally lucrative method +of using a piece of thin corset steel to alter the weights.) But the +case was quashed upon the receipt of a check for more than two million +dollars, covering back duties uncollected, so the personal indictments +were allowed to lapse. It remains, however, the only investigation I +ever heard of in which success was so signal and the amount involved so +large.</p> + +<p>"Todd, of the Department of Justice, handled a big affair not long +afterward, but, while some of the details<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> were even more unusual and +exciting, the theft was only a paltry two hundred and fifty thousand +dollars."</p> + +<p>"Which case was that?"</p> + +<p>"The looting of the Central Trust Company," replied the former +operative, rising and stretching himself. "Get along with you. It's time +for me to lock up."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2> + +<h3>"THE LOOTING OF THE C. T. C."</h3> + + +<p>There was a wintry quality in the night itself that made a comfortable +chair and an open fire distinctly worth the payment of a luxury tax. Add +to this the fact that the chairs in the library den of William J. +Quinn—formerly "Bill Quinn, United States Secret Service"—were roomy +and inviting, while the fire fairly crackled with good cheer, and you'll +know why the conversation, after a particularly good dinner on the +evening in question, was punctuated by pauses and liberally interlarded +with silences.</p> + +<p>Finally, feeling that it was really necessary that I say something, I +remarked upon the fierceness of the wind and the biting, stinging sleet +which accompanied a typical January storm.</p> + +<p>"Makes one long for Florida," I added.</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Quinn, "or even some point farther south. On a night like +this you can hardly blame a man for heading for Honduras, even if he did +carry away a quarter of a million of the bank's deposits with him."</p> + +<p>"Huh? Who's been looting the local treasury?" I asked, thinking that I +was on the point of getting some advance information.</p> + +<p>"No one that I know of," came from the depths of Quinn's big armchair. +"I was just thinking of Florida and warm weather, and that naturally led +to Honduras,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> which, in turn, recalled Rockwell to my mind. Ever hear of +Rockwell?"</p> + +<p>"Don't think I ever did. What was the connection between him and the +quarter-million you mentioned?"</p> + +<p>"Quite a bit. Rather intimate, as you might say. But not quite as much +as he had planned. However, if it hadn't been for Todd—"</p> + +<p>"Todd?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—Ernest E. Todd, of the Department of Justice. 'Extra Ernest,' they +used to call him, because he'd never give up a job until he brought it +in, neatly wrapped and ready for filing. More than one man has had cause +to believe that Todd's parents chose the right name for him. He may not +have been much to look at—but he sure was earnest."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Take the Rockwell case, for example [Quinn went on, after a preliminary +puff or two to see that his pipe was drawing well]. No one had the +slightest idea that the Central Trust Company wasn't in the best of +shape. Its books always balanced to a penny. There was never anything to +cause the examiner to hesitate, and its officials were models of +propriety. Particularly Rockwell, the cashier. Not only was he a pillar +of the church, but he appeared to put his religious principles into +practice on the other six days of the week as well. He wasn't married, +but that only boosted his stock in the eyes of the community, many of +which had daughters of an age when wedding bells sound very tuneful and +orange blossoms are the sweetest flowers that grow.</p> + +<p>When they came to look into the matter later on, nobody seemed to know +much about Mr. Rockwell's antecedents. He'd landed a minor position in +the bank some fifteen years before and had gradually lifted himself to +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> cashiership. Seemed to have an absolute genius for detail and the +handling of financial matters.</p> + +<p>So it was that when Todd went back home on a vacation and happened to +launch some of his ideas on criminology—ideas founded on an intensive +study of Lombroso and other experts—he quickly got himself into deep +water.</p> + +<p>During the course of a dinner at one of the hotels, "E. E." commenced to +expound certain theories relating to crime and the physical appearance +of the criminal.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he inquired, "that it's the simplest thing in the world +to tell whether a man—or even a boy, for that matter—has criminal +tendencies? There are certain unmistakable physical details that point +unerringly to what the world might call 'laxity of conscience,' but +which is nothing less than a predisposition to evil, a tendency to +crime. The lobes of the ears, the height and shape of the forehead, the +length of the little finger, the contour of the hand—all these are of +immense value in determining whether a man will go straight or crooked. +Employers are using them more and more every day. The old-fashioned +phrenologist, with his half-formed theories and wild guesses, has been +displaced by the modern student of character, who relies upon certain +rules which vary so little as to be practically immutable."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say," asked one of the men at the table, "that you can +tell that a man is a criminal simply by looking at him?"</p> + +<p>"If that's the case," cut in another, "why don't you lock 'em all up?"</p> + +<p>"But it isn't the case," was Todd's reply. "The physical characteristics +to which I refer only mean that a man is likely to develop along the +wrong lines. They are like the stars which, as Shakespeare remarked, +'incline, but do not compel.' If you remember, he added, 'The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> fault, +dear Brutus, lies in ourselves.' Therefore, if a detective of the modern +school is working on a case and he comes across a man who bears one or +more of these very certain brands of Cain, he watches that man very +carefully—at least until he is convinced that he is innocent. You can't +arrest a man simply because he looks like a crook, but it is amazing how +often the guideposts point in the right direction."</p> + +<p>"Anyone present that you suspect of forgery or beating his wife?" came +in a bantering voice from the other end of the table.</p> + +<p>"If you're in earnest," answered the government agent, "lay your hands +on the table."</p> + +<p>And everyone present, including Rockwell, cashier of the Central Trust +Company, placed his hands, palm upward, on the cloth—though there was a +distinct hesitation in several quarters.</p> + +<p>Slowly, deliberately, Todd looked around the circle of hands before him. +Then, with quite as much precision, he scanned the faces and +particularly the ears of his associates. Only once did his gaze hesitate +longer than usual, and then not for a sufficient length of time to make +it apparent.</p> + +<p>"No," he finally said. "I'd give every one of you a clean bill of +health. Apparently you're all right. But," and he laughed, "remember, I +said 'apparently.' So don't blame me if there's a murder committed +before morning and one or more of you is arrested for it!"</p> + +<p>That was all there was to the matter until Todd, accompanied by two of +his older friends, left the grill and started to walk home.</p> + +<p>"That was an interesting theory of yours," commented one of the men, +"but wasn't it only a theory? Is there any real foundation of fact?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You mean my statement that you can tell by the shape of a man's head +and hands whether he has a predisposition to crime?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It's far from a theory, inasmuch as it has the support of hundreds of +cases which are on record. Besides, I had a purpose in springing it when +I did. In fact, it partook of the nature of an experiment."</p> + +<p>"You mean you suspected some one present—"</p> + +<p>"Not suspected, but merely wondered if he would submit to the test. I +knew that one of the men at the table would call for it. Some one in a +crowd always does—and I had already noted a startling peculiarity about +the forehead, nose, and ears of a certain dinner companion. I merely +wanted to find out if he had the nerve to withstand my inspection of his +hands. I must say that he did, without flinching."</p> + +<p>"But who was the man?"</p> + +<p>"I barely caught his name," replied Todd, "and this conversation must be +in strict confidence. After all, criminologists do not maintain that +every man who looks like a crook is one. They simply state and prove +that ninety-five per cent of the deliberate criminals, men who plan +their wrong well in advance, bear these marks. And the man who sat +across the table from me to-night has them, to an amazing degree."</p> + +<p>"Across the table from you? Why that was Rockwell, cashier of the +Central Trust!"</p> + +<p>"Precisely," stated Todd, "and the only reason that I am making this +admission is because I happen to know that both of you bank there."</p> + +<p>"But," protested one of the other men, "Rockwell has been with them for +years. He's worked himself up from the very bottom and had hundreds of +chances to make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> away with money if he wanted to. He's as straight as a +die."</p> + +<p>"Very possibly he is," Todd agreed. "That's the reason that I warn you +that what I said was in strict confidence. Neither one of you is to say +a word that would cast suspicion on Rockwell. It would be fatal to his +career. On the other hand, I wanted to give you the benefit of my +judgment, which, if you remember, you requested."</p> + +<p>But it didn't take a character analyst to see that the Department of +Justice man had put his foot in it, so far as his friends were +concerned. They were convinced of the cashier's honesty and no theories +founded on purely physical attributes could swerve them. They kept the +conversation to themselves, but Todd left town feeling that he had lost +the confidence of two of his former friends.</p> + +<p>It was about a month later that he ran into Weldon, the Federal Bank +Examiner for that section of the country, and managed to make a few +discreet inquiries about Rockwell and the Central Trust Company without, +however, obtaining even a nibble.</p> + +<p>"Everything's flourishing," was the verdict. "Accounts straight as a +string and they appear to be doing an excellent business. Fairly heavy +on notes, it's true, but they're all well indorsed. Why'd you ask? Any +reason to suspect anyone?"</p> + +<p>"Not the least," lied Todd. "It's my home town, you know, and I know a +lot of people who bank at the C. T. C. Just like to keep in touch with +how things are going. By the way, when do you plan to make your next +inspection?"</p> + +<p>"Think I'll probably be in there next Wednesday. Want me to say 'Hello' +to anybody?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not popular in certain quarters," Todd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> laughed. "They say I +have too many theories—go off half cocked and all that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless the Department of Justice operative arranged matters so +that he reached his home city on Tuesday of the following week, +discovering, by judicious inquiries, that the visit of the examiner had +not been forecast. In fact, he wasn't expected for a month or more. But +that's the way it is best to work. If bank officials know when to look +out for an examiner, they can often fix things on their books which +would not bear immediate inspection.</p> + +<p>Weldon arrived on schedule early the following morning, and commenced +his examination of the accounts of the First National, as was his habit.</p> + +<p>As soon as Todd knew that he was in town he took up his position outside +the offices of the Central Trust, selecting a vantage point which would +give him a clear view of both entrances of the bank.</p> + +<p>"Possibly," he argued to himself, "I am a damn fool. But just the same, +I have a mighty well-defined hunch that Mr. Rockwell isn't on the level, +and I ought to find out pretty soon."</p> + +<p>Then events began to move even quicker than he had hoped.</p> + +<p>The first thing he noted was that Jafferay, one of the bookkeepers of +the C. T. C., slipped out of a side door of the bank and dropped a +parcel into the mail box which stood beside the entrance. Then, a few +minutes later, a messenger came out and made his way up the street to +the State National, where—as Todd, who was on his heels—had little +trouble in discovering—he cashed a cashier's check for one hundred and +fifty thousand dollars, returning to the Central Trust Company with the +money in his valise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course," Todd reasoned, "Rockwell may be ignorant of the fact that +Weldon doesn't usually get around to the State National until he has +inspected all the other banks. Hence the check will have already gone to +the clearing house and will appear on the books merely as an item of one +hundred and fifty thousand dollars due, rather than as a check from the +Central Trust. Yes, he may be ignorant of the fact—but it does look +funny. Wonder what that bookkeeper mailed?"</p> + +<p>Working along the last line of reasoning, the government operative +stopped at the post office long enough to introduce himself to the +postmaster, present his credentials, and inquire if the mail from the +box outside the Central Trust Company had yet been collected. Learning +that it had, he asked permission to inspect it.</p> + +<p>"You can look it over if you wish," stated the postmaster, "but, of +course, I have no authority to allow you to open any of it. Even the +Postmaster-General himself couldn't do that."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," agreed Todd. "I merely want to see the address on a certain +parcel and I'll make affidavit, if you wish, that I have reason to +suppose that the mails are being used for illegal purposes."</p> + +<p>"That won't be necessary. We'll step down to the parcel room and soon +find out what you want."</p> + +<p>Some five minutes later Todd learned that the parcel which he +recognized—a long roll covered with wrapping paper, so that it was +impossible to gain even an idea of what it contained—was addressed to +Jafferay, the bookkeeper, at his home address.</p> + +<p>"Thanks! Now if you can give me some idea of when this'll be delivered I +won't bother you any more. About five o'clock this afternoon? Fine!" and +the man from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> Washington was out of the post office before anyone could +inquire further concerning his mission.</p> + +<p>A telephone call disclosed the fact that Weldon was then making his +examination of the Central Trust Company books and could not be +disturbed, but Todd managed to get him later in the afternoon and made +an appointment for dinner, on the plea of official business which he +wished to discuss.</p> + +<p>That afternoon he paid a visit to the house of a certain Mr. Jafferay +and spent an hour in a vain attempt to locate the bank examiner.</p> + +<p>Promptly at six o'clock that official walked into Todd's room at the +hotel, to find the operative pacing restlessly up and down, visibly +excited and clutching what appeared to be a roll of paper.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked Weldon. "I'm on time. Didn't keep you waiting +a minute?"</p> + +<p>"No!" snapped Todd, "but where have you been for the last hour? Been +trying to reach you all over town."</p> + +<p>"Great Scott! man, even a human adding machine has a right to take a +little rest now and then. If you must know, I've been getting a shave +and a haircut. Anything criminal in that?"</p> + +<p>"Can't say that there is," and Todd relaxed enough to smile at his +vehemence. "But there is in this," unrolling the parcel that he still +held and presenting several large sheets of ruled paper for the +examiner's attention. "Recognise them?"</p> + +<p>"They appear to be loose leaves from the ledgers at the Central Trust +Company."</p> + +<p>"Precisely. Were they there when you went over the books this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I don't recall them, but it's possible they may have been."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No—they weren't. One of the bookkeepers mailed them to himself, at his +home address, while you were still at the First National. If I hadn't +visited his house this afternoon, in the guise of a book agent, and +taken a long chance by lifting this roll of paper, he'd have slipped +them back in place in the morning and nobody'd been any the wiser."</p> + +<p>"Then you mean that the bookkeeper is responsible for falsifying the +accounts?"</p> + +<p>"Only partially. Was the cash O. K. at the Central Trust?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly."</p> + +<p>"Do you recall any record of a check for one hundred and fifty thousand +dollars upon the State National drawn and cashed this morning?"</p> + +<p>"No, there was no such check."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there was. I was present when the messenger cashed it and he took +the money back to the C. T. C. They knew you wouldn't get around to the +State before morning, and by that time the check would have gone to the +clearing house, giving them plenty of time to make the cash balance to a +penny."</p> + +<p>"Whom do you suspect of manipulating the funds?"</p> + +<p>"The man who signed the check—Rockwell, the cashier! That's why I was +trying to get hold of you. I haven't the authority to demand admittance +to the Central Trust vaults, but you have. Then, if matters are as I +figure them, I'll take charge of the case as an agent of the Department +of Justice."</p> + +<p>"Come on!" was Weldon's response. "We'll get up there right away, No use +losing time over it!"</p> + +<p>At the bank, however, they were told that the combination to the vault +was known to only three persons—the president of the bank, Rockwell, +and the assistant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> cashier. The president, it developed, was out of +town. Rockwell's house failed to answer the phone, and it was a good +half hour before the assistant cashier put in an appearance.</p> + +<p>When, in compliance with Weldon's orders, he swung back the heavy doors +which guarded the vault where the currency was stored, he swung around, +amazed.</p> + +<p>"It's empty!" he whispered. "Not a thing there save the bags of coin. +Why, I put some two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in paper money in +there myself this afternoon!"</p> + +<p>"Who was here at the time?" demanded Todd.</p> + +<p>"Only Mr. Rockwell. I remember distinctly that he said he would have to +work a little longer, but that there wouldn't be any necessity for my +staying. So I put the money in there, locked the door, and went on +home."</p> + +<p>"Do you know where Rockwell is now?"</p> + +<p>"At his house, I suppose. He lives at—"</p> + +<p>"I know where he lives," snapped Todd. "I also know that he isn't there. +I've had the place watched since five o'clock this afternoon—but +Rockwell hasn't shown up. Like the money—I think we can say 'with the +money'—he's gone, disappeared, vanished."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Weldon, "it is up to you to find him. My part of the job +ceased the moment the shortage was disclosed."</p> + +<p>"I know that and if you'll attend to making a report on the matter, +order the arrest of Jafferay, and spread the report of Rockwell's +embezzlement through police circles, I'll get busy on my own hook. +Good-by." And an instant later Todd was hailing a taxi and ordering the +chauffeur to break all the speed laws in reaching the house where +Rockwell boarded.</p> + +<p>Examination of the cashier's room and an extended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> talk with the +landlady failed, however, to disclose anything which might be termed a +clue. The missing official had visited the house shortly after noon, but +had not come back since the bank closed. He had not taken a valise or +suit case with him, declared the mistress of the house, but he had seemed +"just a leetle bit upset."</p> + +<p>Quickly, but efficiently, Todd examined the room—even inspecting the +bits of paper in the wastebasket and pawing over the books which lined +the mantel. Three of the former he slipped into his pocket and then, +turning, inquired:</p> + +<p>"Was Mr. Rockwell fond of cold weather?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," was the reply. "He hated winter. Said he never was +comfortable from November until May. He always—"</p> + +<p>But the "queer gentleman," as the landlady afterward referred to him, +was out of the house before she could detail her pet story of the +cashier's fondness for heat, no matter at what cost.</p> + +<p>No one at the station had seen Rockwell board a train, but inquiry at +the taxicab offices revealed the fact that a man, with his overcoat +collar turned up until it almost met his hat brim, had taken a cab for a +near-by town, where it would be easy for him to make connections either +north or south.</p> + +<p>Stopping only to wire Washington the bare outline of the case, with the +suggestion that the Canadian border be watched, "though it is almost +certain that Rockwell is headed south," Todd picked up the trail at the +railroad ticket office, some ten miles distant, and found that a man +answering to the description of his prey had bought passage as far as +St. Louis. But, despite telegraphic instructions, the Saint Louis police +were unable to apprehend anyone who looked like Rockwell and the +government<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> operative kept right on down the river, stopping at Memphis +to file a message to the authorities in New Orleans.</p> + +<p>It was precisely a week after the looting of the Central Trust Company +that Todd stood on the docks in New Orleans, watching the arrival of the +passengers and baggage destined to go aboard the boat for Honduras. +Singly and in groups they arrived until, when the "all ashore" signal +sounded, the operative began to wonder if he were really on the right +trail. Then, at the last minute, a cab drove up and a woman, apparently +suffering from rheumatism, made her way toward the boat. Scenting a tip, +two stewards sprang to assist her, but Todd beat them to it.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, madam," he said, "may I not—Drat that fly!" and with that +he made a pass at something in front of his face and accidentally +brushed aside the veil which hid the woman's face.</p> + +<p>He had barely time to realize that, as he had suspected, it was +Rockwell, disguised, before the "woman" had slipped out of the light +wrap which she had been wearing and was giving him what he later +admitted was the "scrap of his life." In fact, for several moments he +not only had to fight Rockwell, but several bystanders as well—for they +had only witnessed what they supposed was a totally uncalled for attack +upon a woman. In the mixup that followed Rockwell managed to slip away +and, before Todd had a chance to recover, was halfway across the street, +headed for the entrance to a collection of shanties which provided an +excellent hiding place.</p> + +<p>Tearing himself loose, Todd whipped out his revolver and fired at the +figure just visible in the gathering dusk, scoring a clean shot just +above the ankle—a flesh wound, that ripped the leg muscles without +breaking a bone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> With a groan of despair Rockwell toppled over, clawing +wildly in an attempt to reach his revolver. But Todd was on top of him +before the cashier could swing the gun into action, and a pair of +handcuffs finished the career of the man who had planned to loot the C. +T. C. of a quarter million in cold cash.</p> + +<p>"The next time you try a trick like that," Todd advised him, on the +train that night, "be careful what you leave behind in your room. The +two torn letterheads of the Canadian Pacific nearly misled me, but the +other one referring to the Honduran line, plus the book on Honduras and +the fact that your landlady stated that you hated cold weather, gave you +dead away. Of course, even without that, it was a toss-up between Canada +and Central America. Those are the only two places where an embezzler is +comparatively safe these days. I hope, for the sake of your comfort, +they give you plenty of blankets in Joliet."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Quinn paused a moment to repack his pipe, and then, "So far as I know, +he's still handling the prison finances," he added. "Yes—they found at +the trial that he had had a clean record up to the moment he slipped, +but the criminal tendencies were there and he wasn't able to resist +temptation. He had speculated with the bank funds, covered his shortages +by removing the pages from the ledger and kiting checks through the +State National, and then determined to risk everything in one grand +clean-up.</p> + +<p>"He might have gotten away with it, too, if Todd hadn't spotted the +peculiarities which indicated moral weakness. However, you can't always +tell. No one who knew Mrs. Armitage would have dreamed that she +was—what she was."</p> + +<p>"Well," I inquired, "what was she?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's what puzzled Washington and the State Department for several +months," replied Quinn. "It's too long a story to spin to-night. That's +her picture up there, if you care to study her features."</p> + +<p>And I went home wondering what were the crimes of which such a beautiful +woman could have been guilty.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE CASE OF MRS. ARMITAGE</h3> + + +<p>To look at him no one would have thought that Bill Quinn had a trace of +sentiment in his make-up. Apparently he was just the grizzled old +veteran of a hundred battles with crime, the last of which—a raid on a +counterfeiter's den in Long Island—had laid him up with a game leg and +a soft berth in the Treasury Department, where, for years he had been an +integral part of the United States Secret Service.</p> + +<p>But in the place of honor in Quinn's library-den there hung the +photograph of a stunningly handsome woman, her sable coat thrown back +just enough to afford a glimpse of a throat of which Juno might have +been proud, while in her eyes there sparkled a light which seemed to +hint at much but reveal little. It was very evident that she belonged to +a world entirely apart from that of Quinn, yet the very fact that her +photograph adorned the walls of his den proved that she had been +implicated in some case which had necessitated Secret Service +investigation—for the den was the shrine of relics relating to cases in +which Quinn's friends had figured.</p> + +<p>Finally, one evening I gathered courage to inquire about her.</p> + +<p>"Armitage was her name," Quinn replied. "Lelia Armitage. At least that +was the name she was known by in Washington, and even the investigations +which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> followed Melville Taylor's exposure of her foreign connections +failed to reveal that she had been known by any other, save her maiden +name of Lawrence."</p> + +<p>"Where is she now?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to ask me something easier," and Quinn smiled, a trifle +wistfully, I thought. "Possibly in London, perhaps in Paris, maybe in +Rio or the Far East. But wherever she is, the center of attention is not +very far away from her big violet-black eyes. Also the police of the +country where she is residing probably wish that they had never been +burdened with her."</p> + +<p>"You mean—"</p> + +<p>"That she was a crook? Not as the word is usually understood. But more +than one string of valuable pearls or diamonds has disappeared when +milady Armitage was in the neighborhood—though they were never able to +prove that she had lifted a thing. No, her principal escapade in this +country brought her into contact with the Secret Service, rather than +the police officials—which is probably the reason she was nailed with +the goods. You remember the incident of the 'leak' in the peace note, +when certain Wall Street interests cleaned up millions of dollars?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly. Was she to blame for that?"</p> + +<p>"They never settled who was to blame for it, but Mrs. Armitage was +dealing through a young and decidedly attractive Washington broker at +the time and her account mysteriously multiplied itself half a dozen +times.</p> + +<p>"Then there was the affair of the Carruthers Code, the one which +ultimately led to her exposure at the hands of Taylor and Madelaine +James."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The Carruthers Code [Quinn went on] was admittedly the cleverest and yet +the simplest system of cipher communication<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> ever devised on this side +of the Atlantic, with the possible exception of the one mentioned in +Jules Verne's "Giant Raft"—the one that Dr. Heinrich Albert used with +such success. Come to think of it, Verne wasn't an American, was he? He +ought to have been, though. He invented like one.</p> + +<p>In some ways the Carruthers system was even more efficient than the +Verne cipher. You could use it with less difficulty, for one thing, and +the key was susceptible of an almost infinite number of variations. Its +only weakness lay in the fact that the secret had to be written +down—and it was in connection with the slip of paper which contained +this that Mrs. Armitage came into prominence.</p> + +<p>For some two years Lelia Armitage had maintained a large and expensive +establishment on Massachusetts Avenue, not far from Sheridan Circle. +Those who claimed to know stated that there had been a Mr. Armitage, but +that he had died, leaving his widow enough to make her luxuriously +comfortable for the remainder of her life. In spite of the incidents of +the jeweled necklaces, no one took the trouble to inquire into Mrs. +Armitage's past until the leak in connection with the peace note and the +subsequent investigation of Paul Connor's brokerage house led to the +discovery that her name was among those who had benefited most largely +by the advance information.</p> + +<p>It was at that time that Melville Taylor was detailed to dig back into +her history and see what he could discover. As was only natural, he went +at once to Madelaine James, who had been of assistance to the Service in +more than one Washington case which demanded feminine finesse, plus an +intimate knowledge of social life in the national capital.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Madelaine," he inquired, "what do you know of a certain Mrs. Lelia +Armitage?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing particularly—except that one sees her everywhere. Apparently +has plenty of money. Supposed to have gotten it from her husband, who +has been dead for some time. Dresses daringly but expensively, +and—while there are at least a score of men, ranging all the way from +lieutenants in the army to captains of industry, who would like to marry +her—she has successfully evaded scandal and almost gotten away from +gossip."</p> + +<p>"Where'd she come from?"</p> + +<p>"London, I believe, by way of New York. Maiden name was Lawrence and the +late but not very lamented Mr. Armitage was reputed to have made his +money in South Africa."</p> + +<p>"All of which," commented Taylor, "is rather vague—particularly for +purposes of a detailed report."</p> + +<p>"Report? In what connection?"</p> + +<p>"Her name appears on the list of Connor's clients as one of the ones who +cleaned up on the 'leak.' Sold short and made a barrel of money when +stocks came down. The question is, Where did she get the tip?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly from Paul Connor himself."</p> + +<p>"Possibly—but I wish you'd cultivate her acquaintance and see if you +can pick up anything that would put us on the right track."</p> + +<p>But some six weeks later when Taylor was called upon to make a report of +his investigations he had to admit that the sheet was a blank.</p> + +<p>"Chief," he said, "either the Armitage woman is perfectly innocent or +else she's infernally clever. I've pumped everyone dry about her, and a +certain friend of mine, whom you know, has made a point of getting next +to the lady herself. She's dined there a couple of times<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> and has talked +to her at a dozen teas and receptions. But without success. Mrs. +Armitage has been very frank and open about what she calls her 'good +fortune' on the stock market. Says she followed her intuition and sold +short when everyone else was buying. What's more, she says it with such +a look of frank honesty that, according to Madelaine, you almost have to +believe her."</p> + +<p>"Has Miss James been able to discover anything of the lady's past +history?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing more than we already know—born in England—husband made a +fortune in South Africa—died and left it to her. Have you tried tracing +her from the other side?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but they merely disclaim all knowledge of her. Don't even +recognize the description. That may mean anything. Well," and chief +sighed rather disconsolately, for the leak puzzle had been a knotty one +from the start, "I guess we'd better drop her. Too many other things +going on to worry about a woman whose only offense seems to be an +intuitive knowledge of the way Wall Street's going to jump."</p> + +<p>It was at that moment that Mahoney, assistant to the chief, came in with +the information that the Secretary of State desired the presence of the +head of the Secret Service in his office immediately.</p> + +<p>In answer to a snapped, "Come along—this may be something that you can +take care of right away!" Taylor followed the chief to the State +Department, where they were soon closeted with one of the under +secretaries.</p> + +<p>"You are familiar with the Carruthers Code?" inquired the Assistant +Secretary.</p> + +<p>"I know the principle on which it operates," the chief replied, "but I +can't say that I've ever come into contact with it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So far as we know," went on the State Department official, "it is the +most efficient cipher system in the world—simple, easy to operate, +almost impossible to decode without the key, and susceptible of being +changed every day, or every hour if necessary, without impairing its +value. However, in common with every other code, it has this +weakness—once the key is located the entire system is practically +valueless.</p> + +<p>"When did you discover the disappearance of the code secret?" asked +Taylor, examining his cigarette with an exaggerated display of interest.</p> + +<p>"How did you know it was lost?" demanded the Under Secretary.</p> + +<p>"I didn't—but the fact that your chief sent for mine and then you +launch into a dissertation on the subject of the code itself is open to +but one construction—some one has lifted the key to the cipher."</p> + +<p>"Yes, some one has. At least, it was in this safe last night"—here a +wave of his hand indicated a small and rather old-fashioned strong box +in the corner—"and it wasn't there when I arrived this morning. I +reported the matter to the Secretary and he asked me to give you the +details."</p> + +<p>"You are certain that the cipher was there last evening?" asked the +chief.</p> + +<p>"Not the cipher itself—at least not a code-book as the term is +generally understood," explained the Under Secretary. "That's one of the +beauties of the Carruthers system. You don't have to lug a bulky book +around with you all the time. A single slip of paper—a cigarette paper +would answer excellently—will contain the data covering a man's +individual code. The loss or theft of one of these would be +inconvenient, but not fatal. The loss of the master key, which was in +that safe, is irreparable. If it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> once gets out of the country it means +that the decoding of our official messages is merely a question of time, +no matter how often we switch the individual ciphers."</p> + +<p>"What was the size of the master key, as you call it?"</p> + +<p>"Merely a slip of government bond, about six inches long by some two +inches deep."</p> + +<p>"Was it of such a nature that it could have been easily copied?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but anything other than a careful tracing or a photographic copy +would be valueless. The position of the letters and figures mean as much +as the marks themselves. Whoever took it undoubtedly knows this and will +endeavor to deliver the original—as a mark of good faith, if nothing +else."</p> + +<p>"Was this the only copy in existence?"</p> + +<p>"There are two others—one in the possession of the Secretary, the other +in the section which has charge of decoding messages. Both of these are +safe, as I ascertained as soon as I discovered that my slip was +missing."</p> + +<p>A few more questions failed to bring out anything more about the mystery +beyond the fact that the Assistant Secretary was certain that he had +locked the safe the evening before and he knew that he had found it +locked when he arrived that morning.</p> + +<p>"All of which," as Taylor declared, "means but little. The safe is of +the vintage of eighteen seventy, the old-fashioned kind where you can +hear the tumblers drop clean across the room. Look!" and he pointed to +the japanned front of the safe where a circular mark, some two inches in +diameter, was visible close to the dial.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but what is it?" demanded the Secretary.</p> + +<p>"The proof that you locked the safe last night," Taylor responded. +"Whoever abstracted the cipher key opened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> the safe with the aid of some +instrument that enabled them clearly to detect the fall of the tumblers. +Probably a stethoscope, such as physicians use for listening to a +patient's heart. Perfectly simple when you know how—particularly with +an old model like this."</p> + +<p>Finding that there was no further information available, Taylor and the +chief left the department, the chief to return to headquarters, Taylor +to endeavor to pick up the trail wherever he could.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't look like an inside job," was the parting comment of the +head of the Secret Service. "Anyone who had access to the safe would +have made some excuse to discover the combination, rather than rely on +listening to the click of the tumblers. Better get after the night +watchman and see if he can give you a line on any strangers who were +around the building last night."</p> + +<p>But the night watchman when roused from his sound forenoon's sleep was +certain that no one had entered the building on the previous evening +save those who had business there.</p> + +<p>"Everybody's got to use a pass now, you know," he stated. "I was on the +job all night myself an' divvle a bit of anything out of the ordinary +did I see. There was Mr. McNight and Mr. Lester and Mr. Greene on the +job in the telegraph room, and the usual crowd of correspondents over in +the press room, and a score of others who works there regular, an' Mrs. +Prentice, an'—"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. who?" interrupted Taylor.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Prentice, wife of th' Third Assistant Secretary. She comes down +often when her husband is working late, but last night he must have gone +home just before she got there, for she came back a few minutes later +and said that the office was dark."</p> + +<p>Whatever Taylor's thoughts were at the moment he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> kept them to +himself—for Prentice was the man from whose safe the cipher key had +been abstracted!</p> + +<p>So he contented himself with inquiring whether the watchman was certain +that the woman who entered the building was Mrs. Prentice.</p> + +<p>"Shure an' I'm certain," was the reply. "I've seen her and that green +evening cape of hers trimmed with fur too often not to know her."</p> + +<p>"Do you know how long it was between the time that she entered the +building and the time she left?" persisted Taylor.</p> + +<p>"That I do not, sir. Time is something that you don't worry about much +when it's a matter of guarding the door to a building—particularly at +night. But I'd guess somewhere about five or ten minutes?"</p> + +<p>"Rather long for her to make her way to the office of her husband, find +he wasn't there, and come right back, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—but you must remember I wasn't countin' the minutes, so to +speak. Maybe it was only three—maybe it was ten. Anyhow, it was just +nine-thirty when she left. I remember looking at the clock when she went +out."</p> + +<p>From the watchman's house, located well over in the northeastern section +of the city, Taylor made his way to Madelaine James's apartment on +Connecticut Avenue, discovering that young lady on the point of setting +off to keep a luncheon engagement.</p> + +<p>"I won't keep you a minute, Madelaine," promised the Secret Service +operative. "Just want to ask what you know about Mrs. Mahlon Prentice?"</p> + +<p>"Wife of the Third Assistant Secretary of State?"</p> + +<p>Taylor nodded.</p> + +<p>"She's a Chicago woman, I believe. Came here a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> couple of years ago when +her husband received his appointment. Rather good-looking and very +popular. I happened to be at a dinner with her last evening and—"</p> + +<p>"You what?"</p> + +<p>"I was at a dinner at the Westovers' last night," repeated the James +girl, "and Mrs. Prentice was among those present. Looked stunning, too. +What's the trouble?"</p> + +<p>"What time was the dinner?" Taylor countered.</p> + +<p>"Eight o'clock, but of course it didn't start until nearly +eight-thirty."</p> + +<p>"And what time did Mrs. Prentice leave?"</p> + +<p>"A few minutes after I did. She was just going up for her wraps as I +came downstairs at eleven o'clock."</p> + +<p>"You are certain that she was there all evening—that she didn't slip +out for half an hour or so?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm sure, Mell," the girl replied, a trace of petulance in +her voice. "Why all the questions? Do you suspect the wife of the Third +Assistant Secretary of State of robbing a bank?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bank," Taylor admitted, "but it happens that the safe in her +husband's office was opened last night and a highly important slip of +paper abstracted. What's more, the watchman on duty in the building is +ready to swear that Mrs. Prentice came in shortly before nine-thirty, +and went out some five or ten minutes later, stating that her husband +had evidently finished his work and left."</p> + +<p>"That's impossible! No matter what the watchman says, there are a score +of people who dined with Mrs. Prentice last evening and who know that +she didn't leave the Westovers' until after eleven. Dinner wasn't over +by nine-thirty, and she couldn't have gotten to the State Department and +back in less than twenty minutes at the inside. It's ridiculous, that's +all!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But the watchman!" exclaimed Taylor. "He knows Mrs. Prentice and says +he couldn't miss that green-and-fur coat of hers in the dark. Besides, +she spoke to him as she was leaving."</p> + +<p>Madelaine James was silent for a moment, and a tiny frown appeared +between her eyes, evidence of the fact that she was doing some deep +thinking.</p> + +<p>Then: "Of course she spoke! Anyone who would go to the trouble of +copying Mrs. Prentice's distinctive cloak would realize that some +additional disguise was necessary. Last night, if you remember, was +quite cold. Therefore it would be quite natural that the woman who +impersonated Mrs. Prentice should have her collar turned up around her +face and probably a drooping hat as well. The collar, in addition to +concealing her features, would muffle her voice, while the watchman, not +suspecting anything, would take it for granted that the green cloak was +worn by the wife of the Under Secretary—particularly when she spoke to +him in passing."</p> + +<p>"You mean, then, that some one deliberately impersonated Mrs. Prentice +and took a chance on getting past the watchman merely because she wore a +cloak of the same color?"</p> + +<p>"The same color—the same style—practically the same coat," argued Miss +James. "What's more, any woman who would have the nerve to try that +would probably watch Prentice's office from the outside, wait for the +light to go out, and then stage her visit not more than five minutes +later, so's to make it appear plausible. How was the safe opened?"</p> + +<p>"Stethoscope. Placed the cup on the outside, and then listened to the +tumblers as they fell. Simplest thing in the world with an antiquated +box like that."</p> + +<p>"What's missing?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span></p> + +<p>By this time Taylor felt that their positions had been reversed. He, who +had come to question, was now on the witness stand, while Madelaine +James was doing the cross-examining. But he didn't mind. He knew the way +the girl's mind worked, quickly and almost infallibly—her knowledge of +women in general and Washington society in particular making her an +invaluable ally in a case like this.</p> + +<p>"A slip of paper some six inches long and two inches wide," he said, +with a smile. "The key to the Carruthers Code, probably the most +efficient cipher in the world, but now rendered worthless unless the +original slip is located before it reaches some foreign power."</p> + +<p>"Right!" snapped Miss James. "Get busy on your end of the matter. See +what you can find out concerning this mysterious woman in the green +cloak. I'll work along other and what you would probably call strictly +unethical lines. I've got what a man would term a 'hunch,' but in a +woman it is 'intuition'—and therefore far more likely to be right. See +you later!" and with that she was off toward her car.</p> + +<p>"But what about your luncheon engagement?" Taylor called after her.</p> + +<p>"Bother lunch," she laughed back over her shoulder. "If my hunch is +right I'll make your chief pay for my meals for the next year!"</p> + +<p>The next that Taylor heard from his ally was a telephone call on the +following evening, instructing him to dig up his evening clothes and to +be present at a certain reception that evening.</p> + +<p>"I have reason to believe," said Madelaine's voice, "that the lady of +the second green cloak will be present. Anyhow, there'll be several of +your friends there—including myself, Mrs. Armitage, and an ambassador +who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> doesn't stand any too well with the Administration. In fact, I have +it on good authority that he's on the verge of being recalled. Naturally +we don't want him to take a slip of paper, some six inches by two, with +him!"</p> + +<p>"How do you know he hasn't it already?"</p> + +<p>"He doesn't return from New York until six o'clock this evening, and the +paper is far too valuable to intrust to the mails or to an underling. +Remember, I'm not certain that it is he who is supposed to get the paper +eventually, but I do know who impersonated Mrs. Prentice, and I likewise +know that the lady in question has not communicated with any foreign +official in person. Beyond that we'll have to take a chance on the +evening's developments," and the receiver was replaced before Taylor +could frame any one of the score of questions he wanted to ask.</p> + +<p>Even at the reception that night he was unable to get hold of Madelaine +James long enough to find out just what she did know. In fact, it was +nearly midnight before he caught the signal that caused him to enter one +of the smaller and rather secluded rooms apart from the main hall.</p> + +<p>There he found a tableau that was totally unexpected.</p> + +<p>In one corner of the room, her back against the wall and her teeth bared +in a snarl which distorted her usually attractive features into a mask +of hate, stood Mrs. Armitage. Her hands were crossed in front of her in +what appeared to be an unnatural attitude until Taylor caught a glimpse +of polished steel and realized that the woman had been handcuffed.</p> + +<p>"There," announced Madelaine, "in spite of your friend the watchman, +stands 'Mrs. Prentice.' You'll find the green cloak in one of the +closets at her home, and the stethoscope is probably concealed somewhere +around the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> house. However, that doesn't matter. The main thing is that +we have discovered the missing slip of paper. You'll find it on the +table over there."</p> + +<p>Taylor followed the girl's gesture toward a table at the side of the +room. But there, instead of the cipher key that he had expected, he saw +only—a gold bracelet!</p> + +<p>"What's the idea?" he demanded. "Where's the paper?"</p> + +<p>"Snap open the bracelet," directed the girl. "What do you see?"</p> + +<p>"It looks like—by gad! it is!—a tightly wrapped spindle of paper!" and +a moment later the original of the Carruthers Code reposed safely in the +Secret Service agent's vest pocket. As he tossed the empty bracelet back +on the table he heard a sound behind him and turned just in time to see +the woman in the corner slip to the floor in a dead faint.</p> + +<p>"Now that we've got her," inquired Madelaine James, "what'll we do with +her?"</p> + +<p>"Take off the handcuffs, leave the room, and close the door," directed +Taylor. "She'll hardly care to make any fuss when she comes to, and the +fact that she is unconscious gives us an excellent opportunity for +departing without a scene."</p> + +<p>"But what I'd like to know," he asked, as they strolled back toward the +main ballroom, "is how you engineered the affair?"</p> + +<p>"I told you I had an intuition," came the reply, "and you laughed at me. +Yes you did, too! It wasn't apparent on your face, but I could feel that +inside yourself you were saying, 'Just another fool idea.' But Mrs. +Armitage was preying on my mind. I didn't like the way she had slipped +one over on us in connection with the leak on the peace note. Then, too, +she seemed to have no visible means of support, but plenty of money.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I felt certain that she wasn't guilty of blackmail or any of the more +sordid kinds of crime, but the fact that she was on terms of familiarity +with a number of diplomats, and that she seemed to have a fondness for +army and navy officials, led me to believe that she was a sort of super +spy, sent over here for a specific purpose. The instant you mentioned +the Carruthers Code she sprang to my mind. A bill, slipped into the +fingers of her maid, brought the information about the green cloak, and +the rest was easy.</p> + +<p>"I figured that she'd have the cipher key on her to-night, for it was +her first opportunity of passing it along to the man I felt certain she +was working for. Sure enough, as she passed him about half an hour ago +she tapped her bracelet, apparently absent-mindedly. As soon as he was +out of sight I sent one of the maids with a message that some one wanted +to see her in one of the smaller rooms. Thinking that it was the +ambassador, she came at once. I was planted behind the door, handcuffed +her before she knew what I was doing, and then signaled you!</p> + +<p>"Quite elementary, my dear Melville, quite elementary!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"That," added Quinn, "was the last they heard of Mrs. Armitage. Taylor +reported the matter at once, but the chief said that as they had the +code they better let well enough alone. The following day the woman left +Washington, and no one has heard from her since—except for a package +that reached Taylor some months later. There was nothing in it except +that photograph yonder, and, as Taylor was interested only in his bride, +<i>née</i> Madelaine James, he turned it over to me for my collection."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2> + +<h3>FIVE INCHES OF DEATH</h3> + + +<p>"Quinn," I said one evening when the veteran of the United States Secret +Service appeared to be in one of his story-spinning moods, "you've told +me of cases that have to do with smuggling and spies, robberies and +fingerprints and frauds, but you've never mentioned the one crime that +is most common in the annals of police courts and detective bureaus."</p> + +<p>"Murder?" inquired Quinn, his eyes shifting to the far wall of his +library-den.</p> + +<p>"Precisely. Haven't government detectives ever been instrumental in +solving a murder mystery?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they've been mixed up in quite a few of them. There was the little +matter of the Hallowell case—where the crime and the criminal were +connected by a shoelace—and the incident of 'The Red Circle.' But +murder, as such, does not properly belong in the province of the +government detective. Only when it is accompanied by some breach of the +federal laws does it come under the jurisdiction of the men from +Washington. Like the Montgomery murder mystery, for example."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, the one connected with the postmark that's framed on your wall +over there!" I exclaimed. "I'd forgotten about that. Hal Preston handled +it, didn't he—the same man responsible for running down 'The Trail of +the White Mice'?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's the one," said Quinn, and I was glad to see him settle +luxuriously back in his old armchair—for that meant that he was +preparing to recall the details of an adventure connected with a member +of one of the government detective services.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>If it hadn't been for the fact that Preston was in California at the +time, working on the case of a company that was using the mails for +illegal purposes, it is extremely doubtful if the mystery would ever +have been solved [Quinn continued]; certainly not in time to prevent the +escape of the criminal.</p> + +<p>But Hal's investigations took him well up into the foot-hills of the +Sierra Nevadas, and one morning he awoke to find the whole town in which +he was stopping ablaze with a discussion of the "Montgomery mystery," as +they called it.</p> + +<p>It appeared from the details which Preston picked up in the lobby of his +hotel that Marshall Montgomery had settled down in that section of the +country some three years before, but that he had surrounded himself with +an air of aloofness and detachment which had made him none too popular. +Men who had called to see him on matters of business had left smarting +under the sting of an ill-concealed snub, while it was as much as a book +agent's life was worth to try to gain entrance to the house.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't that he was stingy or close-fisted," explained one of the men +who had known Montgomery. "He bought more Liberty Bonds than anyone else +in town—but he bought them through his bank. Mailed the order in, just +as he did with his contributions to the Red Cross and the other +charitable organizations. Wouldn't see one of the people who went out to +his place. In fact,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> they couldn't get past the six or eight bulldogs +that guard the house."</p> + +<p>"And yet," said Preston, "I understand that in spite of his precautions +he was killed last night?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody knows just when he was killed," replied the native, "or how. +That's the big question. When his servant, a Filipino whom he brought +with him, went to wake him up this morning he found Montgomery's door +locked. That in itself was nothing unusual—for every door and window in +the place was securely barred before nine o'clock in the evening. But +when Tino, the servant, had rapped several times without receiving any +reply, he figured something must be wrong. So he got a stepladder, +propped it up against the side of the house, and looked in through the +window. What he saw caused him to send in a hurry call for the police."</p> + +<p>"Well," snapped Preston, "what did he see?"</p> + +<p>"Montgomery, stretched out on the floor near the door, stone dead—with +a pool of blood that had formed from a wound in his hand!"</p> + +<p>"In his hand?" Preston echoed. "Had he bled to death?"</p> + +<p>"Apparently not—but that's where the queer angle to the case comes in. +The door was locked from the inside—not only locked, but bolted, so +there was no possibility of anyone having entered the room. The windows +were tightly guarded by a patented burglar-proof device which permitted +them to be open about three inches from the bottom, but prevented their +being raised from the outside."</p> + +<p>"Was there a chimney or any other possible entrance to the room?"</p> + +<p>"None at all. Three windows and a door. Montgomery's body was sprawled +out on the rug near the doorway—a revolver in his right hand, a bullet +hole through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> the palm of his left. The first supposition, of course, +was that he had accidentally shot himself and had bled to death. But +there wasn't enough blood for that. Just a few drops on the table and a +small pool near the body. They're going to hold an autopsy later in the +day and—"</p> + +<p>It was at that moment that the Post-office operative became conscious +that some one was calling his name, and, turning, he beckoned to the +bell-boy who was paging him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Preston? Gentleman over there'd like to speak to you." Then the boy +added in a whisper, "Chief o' police."</p> + +<p>Excusing himself, Preston crossed the lobby to where a large and +official-looking man was standing, well out of hearing distance of the +guests who passed.</p> + +<p>"Is this Mr. Preston of the Postal Inspection Service?" inquired the +head of the local police force, adding, after the government operative +had nodded. "I am the chief of police here."</p> + +<p>"Glad to meet you, Chief," was Preston's response. "I haven't had the +pleasure of making your acquaintance, though of course I know you by +sight." (He neglected to add how recently this knowledge had been +acquired.) "What can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Have you heard about the murder of Montgomery Marshall?"</p> + +<p>"Only the few details that I picked up in the lobby just now. But a case +of that kind is entirely out of my line, you know."</p> + +<p>"Ordinarily it would be," agreed the other, "but here's something that I +think puts a different complexion on things," and he extended a +bloodstained scrap of paper for Preston to examine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That was found under the dead man's hand," the chief continued. "As you +will note, it originally formed part of the wrapping of a +special-delivery parcel which reached Montgomery about eight o'clock +last night—just before the house was locked up, in fact. Tino, the +Filipino servant, signed for it and took it in, placing it upon the +table in the room in which his master was found this morning. The scrap +of paper you are holding is just enough to show the postmark +'Sacramento'—but it's quite evident that the package had something to +do with the murder."</p> + +<p>"Which is the reason that you want me to look into it, eh?"</p> + +<p>"That's the idea. I knew that you were in town, and the very fact that +this box came through the mails makes it necessary for the Post-office +Department to take cognizance of what otherwise would be a job for the +police force alone. Am I right?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," replied Preston. "Provided you have reason to believe that +there was some connection between the special-delivery package and the +crime itself. What was in the box?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing!" repeated the chief. "Perfectly empty—at least when we +found it. The lid was lying on the table, the rest of the box on the +floor. The major portion of the wrapping paper had been caught under a +heavy paper weight and it appears that Montgomery, in falling, caught at +the table to save himself and probably ripped away the scrap of paper I +have just given you."</p> + +<p>"But I thought his body was found near the door?"</p> + +<p>"It was, but that isn't far from the table, which is jammed against the +wall in front of one of the windows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span> Come on up to the house with me +and we'll go over the whole thing."</p> + +<p>Glad of the excuse to look into a crime which appeared to be +inexplicable, Preston accompanied the chief to the frame dwelling on the +outskirts of town where Montgomery Marshall, hermit, had spent the last +three years of his life.</p> + +<p>The house was set well back from the road, with but a single gateway in +a six-foot wall of solid masonry, around the top of which ran several +strands of barbed wire.</p> + +<p>"Montgomery erected the wall himself," explained the chief. "Had it put +up before he ever moved into the house, and then, in addition, kept a +bunch of the fiercest dogs I ever knew."</p> + +<p>"All of which goes to prove that he feared an attack," Preston muttered. +"In spite of his precautions, however, they got him! The question now +is: Who are 'they' and how did they operate?"</p> + +<p>The room in which the body had been found only added to the air of +mystery which surrounded the entire problem.</p> + +<p>In spite of what he had been told Preston had secretly expected to find +some kind of an opening through which a man could have entered. But +there was none. The windows, as the Postal operative took care to test +for himself, were tightly locked, though open a few inches from the +bottom. The bolt on the door very evidently had been shattered by the +entrance of the police, and the dark-brown stain on the rug near the +door showed plainly where the body had been found.</p> + +<p>"When we broke in," explained the chief, "Montgomery was stretched out +there, facing the door. The doctor said that he had been dead about +twelve hours, but that it was impossible for the wound in his hand to +have caused his death."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How about a poisoned bullet, fired through the opening in the window?"</p> + +<p>"Not a chance! The only wound on the body was the one through the palm +of his hand. The bullet had struck on the outside of the fleshy part +near the wrist and had plowed its way through the bone, coming out near +the base of the index finger at the back. And it was a bullet from his +own revolver! We found it embedded in the top of the table there." And +the chief pointed to a deep scar in the mahogany and to the marks made +by the knives of the police when they had dug the bullet out.</p> + +<p>"But how do you know it wasn't a bullet of the same caliber, fired from +outside the window?" persisted Preston.</p> + +<p>For answer the chief produced Montgomery's revolver, with five +cartridges still in the chambers.</p> + +<p>"If you'll note," he said, "each of these cartridges is scored or +seamed. That's an old trick—makes the lead expand when it hits and +tears an ugly hole, just like a 'dum-dum.' The bullet we dug out of the +table was not only a forty-five, as these are, but it had been altered +in precisely the same manner. So, unless you are inclined to the +coincidence that the murderer used a poisoned bullet of the same size +and make and character as those in Montgomery's gun, you've got to +discard that theory."</p> + +<p>"Does look like pulling the long arm of coincidence out of its socket," +Preston agreed. "So I guess we'll have to forget it. Where's the box you +were talking about?"</p> + +<p>"The lid is on the table, just as we found it. The lower portion of the +box is on the floor, where the dead man apparently knocked it when he +fell. Except for the removal of the body, nothing in the room has been +touched."</p> + +<p>Stooping, Preston picked up the box and then proceeded to study it in +connection with the lid and the torn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> piece of wrapping paper upon the +table. It was after he had examined the creases in the paper, fitting +them carefully around the box itself, that he inquired: "Do you notice +anything funny about the package, Chief?"</p> + +<p>"Only that there's a hole at one end of it, just about big enough to put +a lead pencil through."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and that same hole appears in the wrapping paper," announced +Preston. "Couple that with the fact that the box was empty when you +found it and I think we will have—"</p> + +<p>"What?" demanded the chief, as Preston paused.</p> + +<p>"The solution to the whole affair," was the reply. "Or, at least, as +much of it as refers to the manner in which Montgomery met his death. By +the way, what do you know about the dead man?"</p> + +<p>"Very little. He came here some three years ago, bought this place, +paying cash for it; had the wall built, and then settled down. Never +appeared to do any work, but was never short of money. Has a balance of +well over fifty thousand dollars in the bank right now. Beyond the fact +that he kept entirely to himself and refused to allow anyone but Tino, +his servant, to enter the gate, he really had few eccentricities. Some +folks say that he was a miser, but there are a dozen families here that +wouldn't have had any Christmas dinner last year if it hadn't been for +him—while his contribution to the Red Cross equaled that of anyone in +town."</p> + +<p>"Apart from his wanting to be alone, then, he was pretty close to being +human?"</p> + +<p>"That's it, exactly—and most of us have some peculiarity. If we didn't +have we'd be even more unusual."</p> + +<p>"What about Tino, the servant?" queried Preston.</p> + +<p>"I don't think there's any lead there," the chief replied. "I hammered +away at him for an hour this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span> morning. He doesn't speak English any too +well, but I gathered that Montgomery picked him up in the Philippines +just before he came over here. The boy was frightened half out of his +senses when I told him that his master had been killed. You've got to +remember, though, that if Tino had wanted to do it he had a thousand +opportunities in the open. Besides, what we've got to find out first is +how Montgomery met his death?"</p> + +<p>"Does the Filipino know anything about his master's past?" asked +Preston, ignoring the chief's last remark.</p> + +<p>"He says not. Montgomery was on his way back to the States from Africa +or some place—stopped off in the islands—spent a couple of months +there—hired Tino and sailed for San Francisco."</p> + +<p>"Africa—" mused the Postal operative. Then, taking another track, he +inquired whether the chief had found out if Montgomery was in the habit +of getting much mail, especially from foreign points.</p> + +<p>"Saunders, the postmaster, says he didn't average a letter a month—and +those he did get looked like advertisements. They remembered this +special-delivery package last night because it was the first time that +the man who brought it out had ever come to the house. He rang the bell +at the gate, he says, turned the box over to Tino, and went along."</p> + +<p>"Any comment about the package?"</p> + +<p>"Only that it was very light and contained something that wabbled +around. I asked him because I figured at the time that the revolver +might have been in it. But the Filipino has identified that as +Montgomery's own gun. Says he'd had it as long as he'd known him."</p> + +<p>"Then all we know about this mysterious box," summarized Preston, "is +that it was mailed from Sacramento, that it wasn't heavy, that it had a +hole about a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> quarter-inch wide at one end, and that it contained +something that—what was the word the special-delivery man +used—'wabbled'?"</p> + +<p>"That's the word. I remember because I asked him if he didn't mean +'rattled,' and he said, 'No, wabbled, sort o' dull-like.'"</p> + +<p>"At any rate, that clears up one angle of the case. The box was not +empty when it was delivered! Granting that the Filipino was telling the +truth, it was not empty when he placed it on the table in this room! +That means that it was not empty when Marshall Montgomery, after locking +and bolting his door, took off the wrapping paper and lifted the lid! +You've searched the room thoroughly, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Every inch of it. We didn't leave a—"</p> + +<p>But the chief suddenly halted, his sentence unfinished. To the ears of +both men there had come a sound, faint but distinct. The sound of the +rattling of paper somewhere in the room.</p> + +<p>Involuntarily Preston whirled and scrutinized the corner from which the +sound appeared to have come. The chief's hand had slipped to his hip +pocket, but after a moment of silence he withdrew it and a slightly +shamefaced look spread over his face.</p> + +<p>"Sounded like a ghost, didn't it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ghosts don't rattle papers," snapped Preston. "At least self-respecting +ones don't, and the other kind haven't any right to run around loose. So +suppose we try to trap this one."</p> + +<p>"Trap it? How?"</p> + +<p>"Like you'd trap a mouse—only with a different kind of bait. Is there +any milk in the house?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly—I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Go down to the refrigerator and find out, will you?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span> I'll stay here +until you return. And bring a saucer with you."</p> + +<p>A few moments later, when the chief returned, bearing a bottle of milk +and a saucer, he found Preston still standing beside the table, his eyes +fixed upon a corner of the room from which the sound of rattling paper +had come.</p> + +<p>"Now all we need is a box," said the Postal operative. "I saw one out in +the hall that will suit our purposes excellently."</p> + +<p>Securing the box, he cut three long and narrow strips from the sides, +notched them and fitted them together in a rough replica of the figure +4, with the lower point of the upright stick resting on the floor beside +the saucer of milk and the wooden box poised precariously at the +junction of the upright and the slanting stick.</p> + +<p>"A figure-four trap, eh?" queried the chief. "What do you expect to +catch?"</p> + +<p>"A mixture of a ghost and the figure of Justice," was Preston's +enigmatic reply. "Come on—we'll lock the door and return later to see +if the trap has sprung. Meanwhile, I'll send some wires to Sacramento, +San Francisco, and other points throughout the state."</p> + +<p>The telegram, of which he gave a copy to the local chief of police, "in +order to save the expense of sending it," read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Wire immediately if you know anything of recent arrival from +Africa—probably American or English—who landed within past +three days. Wanted in connection with Montgomery murder.</p></blockquote> + +<p>The message to San Francisco ended with the phrase "Watch outgoing boats +closely," and that to Sacramento "Was in your city yesterday."</p> + +<p>Hardly an hour later the phone rang and a voice from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> police +headquarters in Sacramento asked to speak to "Postal Inspector Preston."</p> + +<p>"Just got your wire," said the voice, "and I think we've got your man. +Picked him up on the street last night, unconscious. Hospital people say +he's suffering from poisoning of some kind and don't expect him to live. +Keeps raving about diamonds and some one he calls 'Marsh.' Papers on him +show he came into San Francisco two days ago on the <i>Manu</i>. Won't tell +his name, but has mentioned Cape Town several times."</p> + +<p>"Right!" cried Preston. "Watch him carefully until I get there. I'll +make the first train out."</p> + +<p>That afternoon Preston, accompanied by two chiefs of police, made his +way into a little room off the public ward in the hospital in +Sacramento. In bed, his face drawn and haggard until the skin seemed +like parchment stretched tightly over his cheekbones, lay a man at the +point of death—a man who was only kept alive, according to the +physicians, by some almost superhuman effort of the will.</p> + +<p>"It's certain that he's been poisoned," said the doctor in charge of the +case, "but he won't tell us how. Just lies there and glares and demands +a copy of the latest newspaper. Every now and then he drifts off into +delirium, but just when we think he's on the point of death he +recovers."</p> + +<p>Motioning to the others to keep in the background, Preston made his way +to the bedside of the dying man. Then, bending forward, he said, very +clearly and distinctly: "Marshall Montgomery is dead!"</p> + +<p>Into the eyes of the other man there sprang a look of concentrated +hatred that was almost tangible—a glare that turned, a moment later, +into supreme relief.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" he muttered. "Now I'm ready to die!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tell me," said Preston, quietly—"tell me what made you do it."</p> + +<p>"He did!" gasped the man on the bed. "He and his damned brutality. When +I knew him his name was Marsh. We dug for diamonds together in South +Africa—found them, too—enough to make us both rich for life. But our +water was running low—barely enough for one of us. He, the skunk, hit +me over the head and left me to die—taking the water and the stones +with him."</p> + +<p>He paused a moment, his breath rattling in his throat, and then +continued:</p> + +<p>"It took me five years to find him—but you say he's dead? You're not +lying?"</p> + +<p>Preston shook his head slowly and the man on the bed settled back and +closed his eyes, content.</p> + +<p>"Ask him," insisted the chief of police, "how he killed Montgomery?"</p> + +<p>In a whisper that was barely audible came the words: "Sheep-stinger. Got +me first." Then his jaws clicked and there was the unmistakable gurgle +which meant that the end had come.</p> + +<p>"Didn't he say 'sheep-stinger'?" asked the chief of police, after the +doctor had stated that the patient had slipped away from the hands of +the law.</p> + +<p>"That's what it sounded like to me," replied Preston. "But suppose we go +back to Montgomery's room and see what our ghost trap has caught. I told +you I expected to land a figure of Justice—and if ever a man deserved +to be killed it appears to have been this same Montgomery Marshall, or +Marsh, as this man knew him."</p> + +<p>The instant they entered the room it was apparent that the trap had +sprung, the heavy box falling forward and completely covering the saucer +of milk and whatever had disturbed the carefully balanced sticks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span></p> + +<p>Warning the chief to be careful, Preston secured a poker from an +adjoining room, covered the box with his automatic, and then carefully +lifted the box, using the poker as a lever.</p> + +<p>A second later he brought the head of the poker down on something that +writhed and twisted and then lay still, blending in with the pattern of +the carpet in such a manner as to be almost invisible.</p> + +<p>"A snake!" cried the chief. "But such a tiny one! Do you mean to say +that its bite is sufficiently poisonous to kill a man?"</p> + +<p>"Not only one, but two," Preston declared, "as you've seen for yourself. +See that black mark, like an inverted V, upon the head? That's +characteristic of the cobra family, and this specimen—common to the +veldts of South Africa where he is known as the 'sheep stinger'—is +first cousin to the big king cobras. Montgomery's former partner +evidently brought him over from Africa with this idea in mind. But when +he was packing him in the box—the airhole in the end of it gave me the +first inkling, by the way—he got careless and the snake bit him. Only +medical attention saved his life until this afternoon, else he'd have +passed along before Montgomery. I think that closes the case, Chief, and +in spite of the fact that the mails were used for a distinctly illegal +purpose, I believe your department ought to handle the matter—not +mine."</p> + +<p>"But the trap—the milk? How'd you happen to hit on that?"</p> + +<p>"When you told me what the special-delivery man said about the contents +of the package 'wabbling' I figured that the box must have contained a +snake," explained the Postal operative. "An animal would have made some +noise, while a snake, if well fed, will lie silent for hours at a time. +The constant motion, however, would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> made it irritable—so that it +struck the moment Montgomery removed the lid of the box. That explains +the wound in his hand. He knew his danger and deliberately fired, hoping +to cauterize the wound and drive out the poison. It was too quick for +him, though, or possibly the shock stunned him so that he fell.</p> + +<p>"Then, in spite of the fact that your men claimed to have searched the +room thoroughly, that noise in the corner warned me that whatever killed +Montgomery was still here. Going on the theory that the majority of +snakes are fond of milk, I rigged up the trap. And there you are!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Yes," concluded Quinn, "the majority of the cases handled by government +detectives have to do with counterfeiting or smuggling or other crimes +against the federal law—offenses which ought to be exciting but which +are generally dull and prosaic. Every now and then, though, they stumble +across a real honest-to-goodness thrill, a story that's worth the +telling.</p> + +<p>"I've got to be away for the next couple of months or so, but drop +around when I get back and I'll see if I can't recall some more of the +problems that have been solved by one of the greatest, though least +known, detective agencies on the face of the earth."</p> + +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<h3> +THE END +</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Transcriber's Notes:</p> + +<p>Contents page changes made to agree with chapter headings: +"Lost—$100,000!"—quotes and exclamation point added. "The Double +Code"—quotes added. "Thirty Thousand," and again on P. 253—hyphen +removed (more frequent without).</p> + +<p>After Contents page, "On Secret Service" displays twice—once alone on a +page, and again above the Chapter I heading. One of the redundancies has +been deleted.</p> + +<p>Missing or incorrect punctuation repaired.</p> + +<p>Spelling errors fixed.</p> + +<p>Hyphenation variants changed to most frequently used version.</p> + +<p>P. 54 "Simpson lives" original reads "Simpson lived."</p> + +<p>P. 58 Thought break added for consistency.</p> + +<p>P. 89 "Douglass" changed to more frequently used "Douglas."</p> + +<p>P. 177 Code table: Original shows first number under q as "19." Corrected to +"17."</p> + +<p>P. 198 "well dressed" changed to "well-dressed."</p> + +<p>P. 221 two occurrences of "blonde" changed to more frequently used +"blond."</p> + +<p>Abbreviations "sub." and "ad." in original retained.</p> + +<p>"Charleston" and "Charlestown," "down town" and "downtown" (used equally), +"everyone" and "every one [of]," "résumé" (for summary) and "resume" (for assume +anew), "loath" (for unwilling) and "loathe" (for abhor), "mix-up" and "mixup" +(used equally), "anyone" and "any one" (a single, particular one) were used in +this text and retained.</p> + +<p>Also retained "flivvered" (P. 104).</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's On Secret Service, by William Nelson Taft + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON SECRET SERVICE *** + +***** This file should be named 38131-h.htm or 38131-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/1/3/38131/ + +Produced by David Edwards, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/38131-h/images/half-title.png b/38131-h/images/half-title.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..96682be --- /dev/null +++ b/38131-h/images/half-title.png diff --git a/38131-h/images/onsecretservice-cover.jpg b/38131-h/images/onsecretservice-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..69c6817 --- /dev/null +++ b/38131-h/images/onsecretservice-cover.jpg diff --git a/38131-h/images/titlepage.png b/38131-h/images/titlepage.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..405d196 --- /dev/null +++ b/38131-h/images/titlepage.png diff --git a/38131.txt b/38131.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7e339b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/38131.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12333 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of On Secret Service, by William Nelson Taft + +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: On Secret Service + Detective-Mystery Stories Based on Real Cases Solved By + Government Agents + +Author: William Nelson Taft + +Release Date: November 25, 2011 [EBook #38131] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON SECRET SERVICE *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: These stories have introductions which end with +thought breaks, sometimes with a closing quotation mark from the +storyteller. When the storyteller continues the story after the thought +break, opening quotation marks are consistently omitted. + +Remaining transcriber's notes are located at the end of the text.] + + +[Cover Illustration: On Secret Service, +William Nelson Taft] + + + + +ON SECRET SERVICE + +[Decoration] + + + + + ON SECRET SERVICE + + _Detective-Mystery Stories + Based on Real Cases Solved + By Government Agents_ + + BY + WILLIAM NELSON TAFT + + [Illustration] + + HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + * * * * * + + + ON SECRET SERVICE + + Copyright, 1921, by Harper & Brothers + Printed in the United States of America + + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + I. A FLASH IN THE NIGHT 1 + + II. THE MINT MYSTERY 15 + + III. THE YPIRANGA CASE 28 + + IV. THE CLUE ON SHELF 45 42 + + V. PHYLLIS DODGE, SMUGGLER EXTRAORDINARY 57 + + VI. A MATTER OF RECORD 73 + + VII. THE SECRET STILL 88 + + VIII. THE TAXICAB TANGLE 103 + + IX. A MATCH FOR THE GOVERNMENT 118 + + X. THE GIRL AT THE SWITCHBOARD 133 + + XI. "LOST--$100,000!" 149 + + XII. "THE DOUBLE CODE" 164 + + XIII. THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE MICE 180 + + XIV. WAH LEE AND THE FLOWER OF HEAVEN 195 + + XV. THE MAN WITH THREE WIVES 210 + + XVI. AFTER SEVEN YEARS 225 + + XVII. THE POISON-PEN PUZZLE 239 + + XVIII. THIRTY THOUSAND YARDS OF SILK 254 + + XIX. THE CLUE IN THE CLASSIFIED COLUMN 268 + + XX. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CAPITOL 283 + + XXI. A MILLION-DOLLAR QUARTER 298 + + XXII. "THE LOOTING OF THE C. T. C." 313 + + XXIII. THE CASE OF MRS. ARMITAGE 328 + + XXIV. FIVE INCHES OF DEATH 343 + + + + +ON SECRET SERVICE + + + + +I + +A FLASH IN THE NIGHT + + +We were sitting in the lobby of the Willard, Bill Quinn and I, watching +the constant stream of politicians, pretty women, and petty office +seekers who drift constantly through the heart of Washington. + +Suddenly, under his breath, I heard Quinn mutter, "Hello!" and, +following his eyes, I saw a trim, dapper, almost effeminate-looking chap +of about twenty-five strolling through Peacock Alley as if he didn't +have a care in the world. + +"What's the matter?" I inquired. "Somebody who oughtn't to be here?" + +"Not at all. He's got a perfect right to be anywhere he pleases, but I +didn't know he was home. Last time I heard of him he was in Seattle, +mixed up with those riots that Ole Hanson handled so well." + +"Bolshevist?" + +"Hardly," and Quinn smiled. "Don't you know Jimmy Callahan? Well, it's +scarcely the province of a Secret Service man to impress his face upon +everyone ... the secret wouldn't last long. No, Jimmy was working on the +other end of the Seattle affair. Trying to locate the men behind the +move--and I understand he did it fairly well, too. But what else would +you expect from the man who solved that submarine tangle in Norfolk?" + +Quinn must have read the look of interest in my face, for he continued, +almost without a pause: "Did you ever hear the inside of that case? One +of the most remarkable in the whole history of the Secret Service, and +that's saying a good deal. I don't suppose it would do any harm to spill +it, so let's move over there in a corner and I'll relate a few details +of a case where the second hand of a watch played a leading role." + + * * * * * + +The whole thing started back in the spring of 1918 [said Quinn, who held +down a soft berth in the Treasury Department as a reward for a game leg +obtained during a counterfeiting raid on Long Island]. + +Along about then, if you remember, the Germans let loose a lot of +boasting statements as to what they were going to do to American ships +and American shipping. Transports were going to be sunk, commerce +crippled and all that sort of thing. While not a word of it got into the +papers, there were a bunch of people right here in Washington who took +these threats seriously--for the Hun's most powerful weapon appeared to +be in his submarines, and if a fleet of them once got going off the +coast we'd lose a lot of valuable men and time landing them. + +Then came the sinking of the _Carolina_ and those other ships off the +Jersey coast. Altogether it looked like a warm summer. + +One afternoon the Chief sent for Callahan, who'd just come back from +taking care of some job down on the border, and told him his troubles. + +"Jimmy," said the Chief, "somebody on this side is giving those damn +Huns a whole lot of information that they haven't any business getting. +You know about those boats they've sunk already, of course. They're +only small fry. What they're laying for is a transport, another +_Tuscania_ that they can stab in the dark and make their getaway. The +point that's worrying us is that the U-boats must be getting their +information from some one over here. The sinking of the _Carolina_ +proves that. No submarine, operating on general cruising orders, could +possibly have known when that ship was due or what course she was going +to take. Every precaution was taken at San Juan to keep her sailing a +secret, but of course you can't hide every detail of that kind. She got +out. Some one saw her, wired the information up the coast here and the +man we've got to nab tipped the U-boat off. + +"Of course we could go at it from Porto Rico, but that would mean +wasting a whole lot more time than we can afford. It's not so much a +question of the other end of the cable as it is who transmitted the +message to the submarine--and how! + +"It's your job to find out before they score a real hit." + +Callahan, knowing the way things are handled in the little suite on the +west side of the Treasury Building, asked for the file containing the +available information and found it very meager indeed. + +Details of the sinking of the _Carolina_ were included, among them the +fact that the _U-37_ had been waiting directly in the path of the +steamer, though the latter was using a course entirely different from +the one the New York and Porto Rico S. S. Company's boats generally +took. The evidence of a number of passengers was that the submarine +didn't appear a bit surprised at the size of her prey, but went about +the whole affair in a businesslike manner. The meat of the report was +contained in the final paragraph, stating that one of the German +officers had boasted that they "would get a lot more ships in the same +way," adding, "Don't worry--we'll be notified when they are going to +sail." + +Of course, Callahan reasoned, this might be simply a piece of Teutonic +bravado--but there was more than an even chance that it was the truth, +particularly when taken in conjunction with the sinking of the _Texel_ +and the _Pinar del Rio_ and the fact that the _Carolina's_ course was so +accurately known. + +But how in the name of Heaven had they gotten their information? + +Callahan knew that the four principal ports of embarkation for +troops--Boston, New York, Norfolk, and Charleston--were shrouded in a +mantle of secrecy which it was almost impossible to penetrate. Some +months before, when he had been working on the case which grew out of +the disappearance of the plans of the battleship _Pennsylvania_, he had +had occasion to make a number of guarded inquiries in naval circles in +New York, and he recalled that it had been necessary not only to show +his badge, but to submit to the most searching scrutiny before he was +allowed to see the men he wished to reach. He therefore felt certain +that no outsider could have dug up the specific information in the short +space of time at their disposal. + +But, arguing that it had been obtained, the way in which it had been +passed on to the U-boat also presented a puzzle. + +Was there a secret submarine base on the coast? + +Had some German, more daring than the rest, actually come ashore and +penetrated into the very lines of the Service? + +Had he laid a plan whereby he could repeat this operation as often as +necessary? + +Or did the answer lie in a concealed wireless, operating upon +information supplied through underground channels? + +These were only a few of the questions which raced through Callahan's +mind. The submarine base he dismissed as impracticable. He knew that the +_Thor_, the _Unita_, the _Macedonia_, and nine other vessels had, at the +beginning of the war, cleared from American ports under false papers +with the intention of supplying German warships with oil, coal, and +food. He also knew that, of the million and a half dollars' worth of +supplies, less than one-sixth had ever been transshipped. Therefore, +having failed so signally here, the Germans would hardly try the same +scheme again. + +The rumor that German officers had actually come into New York, where +they were supposed to have been seen in a theater, was also rather +far-fetched. So the wireless theory seemed to be the most tenable. But +even a wireless cannot conceal its existence from the other stations +indefinitely. Of course, it was possible that it might be located on +some unfrequented part of the coast--but then how could the operator +obtain the information which he transmitted to the U-boat? + +Callahan gave it up in despair--for that night. He was tired and he felt +that eight hours' sleep would do him more good than thrashing around +with a problem for which there appeared to be no solution; a problem +which, after all, he couldn't even be sure existed. + +Maybe, he thought, drowsily, as he turned off the light--maybe the +German on the U-boat was only boasting, after all--or, maybe.... + +The first thing Jimmy did the next morning was to call upon the head of +the recently organized Intelligence Bureau of the War Department--not +the Intelligence Division which has charge of censorship and the +handling of news, but the bureau which bears the same relation to the +army that the Secret Service does to the Treasury Department. + +"From what ports are transports sailing within the next couple of +weeks?" he inquired of the officer in charge. + +"From Boston, New York, Norfolk, and Charleston," was the reply--merely +confirming Callahan's previous belief. He had hoped that the ground +would be more limited, because he wanted to have the honor of solving +this problem by himself, and it was hardly possible for him to cover the +entire Atlantic Coast. + +"Where's the biggest ship sailing from?" was his next question. + +"There's one that clears Norfolk at daylight on Monday morning with +twelve thousand men aboard...." + +"Norfolk?" interrupted Callahan. "I thought most of the big ones left +from New York or Boston." + +"So they do, generally. But these men are from Virginia and North +Carolina. Therefore it's easier to ship them right out of Norfolk--saves +time and congestion of the railroads. As it happens, the ship they're +going on is one of the largest that will clear for ten days or more. All +of the other big ones are on the other side." + +"Then," cut in Callahan, "if the Germans wanted to make a ten-strike +they'd lay for that boat?" + +"They sure would--and one torpedo well placed would make the _Tuscania_ +look like a Sunday-school picnic. But what's the idea? Got a tip that +the Huns are going to try to grab her?" + +"No, not a tip," Callahan called back over his shoulder, for he was +already halfway out of the door; "just a hunch--and I'm going to play it +for all it's worth!" + +The next morning, safely ensconced at the Monticello under the name of +"Robert P. Oliver, of Williamsport, Pa." Callahan admitted to himself +that he was indeed working on nothing more than a "hunch," and not a +very well-defined one at that. The only point that appeared actually to +back up his theory that the information was coming from Norfolk was the +fact that the U-boat was known to be operating between New York and the +Virginia capes. New York itself was well guarded and the surrounding +country was continually patrolled by operatives of all kinds. It was the +logical point to watch, and therefore it would be much more difficult to +obtain and transmit information there than it would be in the vicinity +of Norfolk, where military and naval operations were not conducted on as +large a scale nor with as great an amount of secrecy. + +Norfolk, Callahan found, was rather proud of her new-found glory. For +years she had basked in the social prestige of the Chamberlin, the +annual gathering of the Fleet at Hampton Roads and the military pomp and +ceremony attendant upon the operations of Fortress Monroe. But the war +had brought a new thrill. Norfolk was now one of the principal ports of +embarkation for the men going abroad. Norfolk had finally taken her rank +with New York and Boston--the rank to which her harbor entitled her. + +Callahan reached Norfolk on Wednesday morning. The _America_, according +to the information he had received from the War Department, would clear +at daybreak Monday--but at noon on Saturday the Secret Service operative +had very little more knowledge than when he arrived. He had found that +there was a rumor to the effect that two U-boats were waiting off the +Capes for the transport, which, of course, would have the benefit of the +usual convoy. + +"But," as one army officer phrased it, "what's the use of a convoy if +they know just where you are? Germany would willingly lose a sub. or two +to get us, and, with the sea that's been running for the past ten days, +there'd be no hope of saving more than half the boys." + +Spurred by the rapidity with which time was passing and the fact that he +sensed a thrill of danger--an intuition of impending peril--around the +_America_, Callahan spent the better part of Friday night and all +Saturday morning running down tips that proved to be groundless. A man +with a German name was reported to be working in secret upon some +invention in an isolated house on Willoughby Spit; a woman, concerning +whom little was known, had been seen frequently in the company of two +lieutenants slated to sail on the _America_; a house in Newport News +emitted strange "clacking" sounds at night. + +But the alleged German proved to be a photographer of unassailable +loyalty, putting in extra hours trying to develop a new process of color +printing. The woman came from one of the oldest families in Richmond and +had known the two lieutenants for years. The house in Newport News +proved to be the residence of a young man who hoped some day to sell a +photoplay scenario, the irregular clacking noise being made by a +typewriter operated none too steadily. + +"That's what happens to most of the 'clues' that people hand you," +Callahan mused as he sat before his open window on Saturday evening, +with less than thirty-six hours left before the _America_ was scheduled +to leave. "Some fellows have luck with them, but I'll be hanged if I +ever did. Here I'm working in the dark on a case that I'm not even +positive exists. That infernal submarine may be laying off Boston at +this minute, waiting for the ship that leaves there Tuesday. Maybe they +don't get any word from shore at all.... Maybe they just...." + +But here he was brought up with a sudden jar that concentrated all his +mental faculties along an entirely different road. + +Gazing out over the lights of the city, scarcely aware that he saw them, +his subconscious mind had been following for the past three minutes +something apparently usual, but in reality entirely out of the ordinary. + +"By George!" he muttered, "I wonder...." + +Then, taking his watch from his pocket, his eyes alternated between a +point several blocks distant--a point over the roofs of the houses--and +the second hand of his timepiece. Less than a minute elapsed before he +reached for a pencil and commenced to jot down dots and dashes on the +back of an envelope. When, a quarter of an hour later, he found that the +dashes had become monotonous--as he expected they would--he reached for +the telephone and asked to be connected with the private wire of the +Navy Department in Washington. + +"Let me speak to Mr. Thurber at once," he directed. "Operative Callahan, +S. S., speaking.... Hello! that you, Thurber?... This is Callahan. I'm +in Norfolk and I want to know whether you can read this code. You can +figure it out if anybody can. Ready?... Dash, dash, dash, dot, dash, +dash, dot--" and he continued until he had repeated the entire series of +symbols that he had plucked out of the night. + +"Sounds like a variation of the International Morse," came the comment +from the other end of the wire--from Thurber, librarian of the Navy +Department and one of the leading American authorities on code and +ciphers. "May take a little time to figure it out, but it doesn't look +difficult. Where can I reach you?" + +"I'm at the Monticello--name of Robert P. Oliver. Put in a call for me +as soon as you see the light on it. I've got something important to do +right now," and he hung up without another word. + +A quick grab for his hat, a pat under his arm, to make sure that the +holster holding the automatic was in place, and Callahan was on his way +downstairs. + +Once in the street, he quickened his pace and was soon gazing skyward at +the corner of two deserted thoroughfares not many blocks from the +Monticello. A few minutes' consultation with his watch confirmed his +impression that everything was right again and he commenced his search +for the night watchman. + +"Who," he inquired of that individual, "has charge of the operation of +that phonograph sign on the roof?" + +"Doan know fuh certain, suh, but Ah think it's operated by a man down +the street a piece. He's got charge of a bunch of them sort o' things. +Mighty funny kinder way to earn a livin', Ah calls it--flashing on an' +off all night long...." + +"But where's he work from?" interrupted Callahan, fearful that the +negro's garrulousness might delay him unduly. + +"Straight down this street three blocks, suh. Then turn one block to yo' +left and yo' cain't miss the place. Electrical Advertisin' Headquarters +they calls it. Thank you, suh," and Callahan was gone almost before the +watchman could grasp the fact that he held a five-dollar bill instead of +a dollar, as he thought. + +It didn't take the Secret Service man long to locate the place he +sought, and on the top floor he found a dark, swarthy individual bending +over the complicated apparatus which operated a number of the electric +signs throughout the city. Before the other knew it, Callahan was in the +room--his back to the door and his automatic ready for action. + +"Up with your hands!" snapped Callahan. "Higher! That's better. Now tell +me where you got that information you flashed out to sea to-night by +means of that phonograph sign up the street. Quick! I haven't any time +to waste." + +"_Si, si, senor_," stammered the man who faced him. "But I understand +not the English very well." + +"All right," countered Callahan. "Let's try it in Spanish," and he +repeated his demands in that language. + +Volubly the Spaniard--or Mexican, as he later turned out to +be--maintained that he had received no information, nor had he +transmitted any. He claimed his only duty was to watch the "drums" which +operated the signs mechanically. + +"No drum in the world could make that sign flash like it did to-night," +Callahan cut in. "For more than fifteen minutes you sent a variation of +the Morse code seaward. Come on--I'll give you just one minute to tell +me, or I'll bend this gun over your head." + +Before the minute had elapsed, the Mexican commenced his confession. He +had been paid a hundred dollars a week, he claimed, to flash a certain +series of signals every Saturday night, precisely at nine o'clock. The +message itself--a series of dots and dashes which he produced from his +pocket as evidence of his truthfulness--had reached him on Saturday +morning for the two preceding weeks. He didn't know what it meant. All +he did was to disconnect the drum which operated the sign and move the +switch himself. Payment for each week's work, he stated, was inclosed +with the next week's message. Where it came from he didn't know, but the +envelope was postmarked Washington. + +With his revolver concealed in his coat pocket, but with its muzzle in +the small of the Mexican's back, Callahan marched his captive back to +the hotel and up into his room. As he opened the door the telephone rang +out, and, ordering the other to stand with his face to the wall in a +corner--"and be damn sure not to make a move"--the government agent +answered the call. As he expected, it was Thurber. + +"The code's a cinch," came the voice over the wire from Washington. "But +the message is infernally important. It's in German, and evidently you +picked it up about two sentences from the start. The part you gave me +states that the transport _America_, with twelve thousand men aboard, +will leave Norfolk at daylight Monday. The route the ship will take is +distinctly stated, as is the personnel of her convoy. Where'd you get +the message?" + +"Flashes in the night," answered Callahan. "I noticed that an electric +sign wasn't behaving regularly--so I jotted down its signals and passed +them on to you. The next important point is whether the message is +complete enough for you to reconstruct the code. Have you got all the +letters?" + +"Yes, every one of them." + +"Then take down this message, put it into that dot-and-dash code and +send it to me by special messenger on one of the navy torpedo boats +to-night. It's a matter of life and death to thousands of men!" and +Callahan dictated three sentences over the wire. "Got that?" he +inquired. "Good! Get busy and hurry it down. I've got to have it in the +morning." + +"Turn around," he directed the Mexican, as he replaced the receiver. +"Were you to send these messages only on Saturday night?" + +"_Si, senor._ Save that I was told that there might be occasions when I +had to do the same thing on Sunday night, too." + +"At nine o'clock?" + +"_Si, senor._" + +Callahan smiled. Things were breaking better than he had dared hope. It +meant that the U-boat would be watching for the signal the following +night. Then, with proper emphasis of the automatic, he gave the Mexican +his orders. He was to return to his office with Callahan and go about +his business as usual, with the certainty that if he tried any +foolishness the revolver could act more quickly than he. Accompanied by +the government agent, he was to come back to the Monticello and spend +the night in Callahan's room, remaining there until the next evening +when he would--promptly at nine o'clock and under the direction of an +expert in telegraphy--send the message which Callahan would hand him. + +That's practically all there is to the story. + + * * * * * + +"All?" I echoed, when Quinn paused. "What do you mean, 'all'? What was +the message Callahan sent? What happened to the Mexican? Who sent the +letter and the money from Washington?" + +"Nothing much happened to the Mexican," replied my informant, with a +smile. "They found that he was telling the truth, so they just sent him +over the border with instructions not to show himself north of the Rio +Grande. As for the letter--that took the Post Office, the Department of +Justice, and the Secret Service the better part of three months to +trace. But they finally located the sender, two weeks after she (yes, it +was a woman, and a darned pretty one at that) had made her getaway. I +understand they got her in England and sentenced her to penal servitude +for some twenty years or more. In spite of the war, the Anglo-Saxon race +hasn't completely overcome its prejudice against the death penalty for +women." + +"But the message Callahan sent?" I persisted. + +"That was short and to the point. As I recall it, it ran something like +this: 'Urgent--Route of _America_ changed. She clears at daylight, but +takes a course exactly ten miles south of one previously stated. Be +there." + +"The U-boat was there, all right. But so were four hydroplanes and half +a dozen destroyers, all carrying the Stars and Stripes!" + + + + +II + +THE MINT MYSTERY + + +"Mr Drummond! Wire for Mr. Drummond! Mr. Drummond, please!" + +It was the monotonous, oft-repeated call of a Western Union +boy--according to my friend Bill Quinn, formerly of the United States +Secret Service--that really was responsible for solving the mystery +which surrounded the disappearance of $130,000 in gold from the +Philadelphia Mint. + +"The boy himself didn't have a thing to do with the gold or the finding +of it," admitted Quinn, "but his persistence was responsible for +locating Drummond, of the Secret Service, just as he was about to start +on a well-earned vacation in the Maine woods. Uncle Sam's sleuths don't +get any too much time off, you know, and a month or so in a part of the +world where they don't know anything about international intrigues and +don't care about counterfeiting is a blessing not to be despised. + +"That's the reason the boy had to be persistent when he was paging +Drummond. + +"The operative had a hunch that it was a summons to another case and he +was dog tired. But the boy kept singing out the name through the train +and finally landed his man, thus being indirectly responsible for the +solution of a mystery that might have remained unsolved for weeks--and +incidentally saved the government nearly every cent of the one hundred +and thirty thousand dollars." + + * * * * * + +When Drummond opened the telegram [continued Quinn] he found that it was +a summons to Philadelphia, signed by Hamlin, Assistant Secretary of the +Treasury. + +"Preston needs you at once. Extremely important," read the wire--and, as +Drummond was fully aware that Preston was Director of the United States +Mint, it didn't take much deduction to figure that something had gone +wrong in the big building on Spring Garden Street where a large part of +the country's money is coined. + +But even the lure of the chase--something you read a lot about in +detective stories, but find too seldom in the real hard work of tracing +criminals--did not offset Drummond's disappointment in having to defer +his vacation. Grumbling, he gathered his bags and cut across New York to +the Pennsylvania Station, where he was fortunate enough to be able to +make a train on the point of leaving for Philadelphia. At the Mint he +found Director Preston and Superintendent Bosbyshell awaiting him. + +"Mr. Hamlin wired that he had instructed you to come up at once," said +the director. "But we had hardly hoped that you could make it so soon." + +"Wire reached me on board a train that would have pulled out of Grand +Central Station in another three minutes," growled Drummond. "I was on +my way to Maine to forget all about work for a month. But," and his face +broke into a smile, "since they did find me, what's the trouble?" + +"Trouble enough," replied the director. "Some hundred and thirty +thousand dollars in gold is missing from the Mint!" + +"What!" Even Drummond was shaken out of his professional calm, not to +mention his grouch. Robbery of the United States Treasury or one of the +government Mints was a favorite dream with criminals, but--save for the +memorable occasion when a gang was found trying to tunnel under +Fifteenth Street in Washington--there had been no time when the scheme +was more than visionary. + +"Are you certain? Isn't there any chance for a mistake?" + +The questions were perfunctory, rather than hopeful. + +"Unfortunately, not the least," continued Preston. "Somebody has made +away with a hundred and thirty thousand dollars worth of the +government's money. Seven hundred pounds of gold is missing and there +isn't a trace to show how or where it went. The vault doors haven't been +tampered with. The combination of the grille inside the vault is intact. +Everything, apparently, is as it should be--but fifty bars of gold are +missing." + +"And each bar," mused Drummond, "weighs--" + +"Fourteen pounds," cut in the superintendent. + +Drummond looked at him in surprise. + +"I beg your pardon," said Preston. "This is Mr. Bosbyshell, +superintendent of the Mint. This thing has gotten on my nerves so that I +didn't have the common decency to introduce you. Mr. Bosbyshell was with +me when we discovered that the gold was missing." + +"When was that?" + +"Yesterday afternoon," replied the director. "Every now and then--at +irregular intervals--we weigh all the gold in the Mint, to make sure +that everything is as it should be. Nothing wrong was discovered until +we reached Vault Six, but there fifty bars were missing. There wasn't +any chance of error. The records showed precisely how much should have +been there and the scales showed how much there was, to the fraction of +an ounce. + +"But even if we had only counted the bars, instead of weighing each one +separately, the theft would have been instantly discovered, for the +vault contained exactly fifty bars less than it should have. It was then +that I wired Washington and asked for assistance from the Secret +Service." + +"Thus spoiling my vacation," muttered Drummond. "How many men know the +combination to the vault door?" + +"Only two," replied the superintendent. "Cochrane, who is the official +weigher, and myself. Cochrane is above suspicion. He's been here for the +past thirty years and there hasn't been a single complaint against him +in all that time." + +Drummond looked as if he would like to ask Preston if the same could be +said for the superintendent, but he contented himself with listening as +Bosbyshell continued: + +"But even if Cochrane or I--yes, I'm just as much to be suspected as +he--could have managed to open the vault door unseen, we could not have +gotten inside the iron grille which guards the gold in the interior of +the vault. That is always kept locked, with a combination known to two +other men only. There's too much gold in each one of these vaults to +take any chance with, which is the reason for this double protection. +Two men--Cochrane and I--handle the combination to the vault door and +open it whenever necessary. Two others--Jamison and Strubel--are the +only ones that know how to open the grille door. One of them has to be +present whenever the bars are put in or taken away, for the men who can +get inside the vault cannot enter the grille, and the men who can +manipulate the grille door can't get into the vault." + +"It certainly sounds like a burglar-proof combination," commented +Drummond. "Is there any possibility for conspiracy between"--and he +hesitated for the fraction of a second--"between Cochrane and either of +the men who can open the grille door?" + +"Apparently not the least in the world," replied Preston. "So far as we +know they are all as honest as the day--" + +"But the fact remains," Drummond interrupted, "that the gold is +missing." + +"Exactly--but the grille door was sealed with the official governmental +stamp when we entered the vault yesterday. That stamp is applied only in +the presence of both men who know the combination. So the conspiracy, if +there be any, must have included Cochrane, Strubel, and Jamison--instead +of being a two-man job." + +"How much gold did you say was missing?" inquired the Treasury +operative, taking another tack. + +"Seven hundred pounds--fifty bars of fourteen pounds each," answered +Bosbyshell. "That's another problem that defies explanation. How could +one man carry away all that gold without being seen? He'd need a dray to +cart it off, and we're very careful about what goes out of the Mint. +There's a guard at the front door all the time, and no one is allowed to +leave with a package of any kind until it has been examined and passed." + +A grunt was Drummond's only comment--and those who knew the Secret +Service man best would have interpreted the sound to mean studious +digestion of facts, rather than admission of even temporary defeat. + +It was one of the government detective's pet theories that every crime, +no matter how puzzling, could be solved by application of common-sense +principles and the rules of logic. "The criminal with brains," he was +fond of saying, "will deliberately try to throw you off the scent. Then +you've got to take your time and separate the wheat from the chaff--the +false leads from the true. But the man who commits a crime on the spur +of the moment--or who flatters himself that he hasn't left a single clue +behind--is the one who's easy to catch. The cleverest crook in the world +can't enter a room without leaving his visiting card in some way or +other. It's up to you to find that card and read the name on it. And +common sense is the best reading glass." + +Requesting that his mission be kept secret, Drummond said that he would +like to examine Vault No. Six. + +"Let Cochrane open the vault for me and then have Jamison and Strubel +open the grille," he directed. + +"Unless Mr. Bosbyshell opened the vault door," Preston reminded him, +"there's no one but Cochrane who could do it. It won't be necessary, +however, to have either of the others open the grille--the door was +taken from its hinges this morning in order the better to examine the +place and it hasn't yet been replaced." + +"All right," agreed Drummond. "Let's have Cochrane work the outer +combination, then. I'll have a look at the other two later." + +Accompanied by the director and the superintendent, Drummond made his +way to the basement where they were joined by the official weigher, a +man well over fifty, who was introduced by Preston to "Mr. Drummond, a +visitor who is desirous of seeing the vaults." + +"I understand that you are the only man who can open them," said the +detective. "Suppose we look into this one," as he stopped, as if by +accident, before Vault No. 6. + +Cochrane, without a word, bent forward and commenced to twirl the +combination. A few spins to the right, a few to the left, back to the +right, to the left once more--and he pulled at the heavy door +expectantly. But it failed to budge. + +Again he bent over the combination, spinning it rapidly. Still the door +refused to open. + +"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to help me with this, Superintendent," +Cochrane said, finally. "It doesn't seem to work, somehow." + +But, under Bosbyshell's manipulation, the door swung back almost +instantly. + +"Nothing wrong with the combination," commented Preston. + +Drummond smiled. "Has the combination been changed recently?" he asked. + +"Not for the past month," Bosbyshell replied. "We usually switch all of +them six times a year, just as a general precaution--but this has been +the same for the past few weeks. Ever since the fifteenth of last month, +to be precise." + +Inside the vault Drummond found that, as Preston had stated, the door to +the grille had been taken from its hinges, to facilitate the work of the +men who had weighed the gold, and had not been replaced. + +"Where are the gold bars?" asked the detective. "The place looks like it +had been well looted." + +"They were all taken out this morning, to be carefully weighed," was +Preston's reply. + +"I'd like to see some of them stacked up there along the side of the +grille, if it isn't too much trouble." + +"Surely," said Bosbyshell. "I'll have the men bring them in at once." + +As soon as the superintendent had left the room, Drummond requested that +the door of the grille be placed in its usual position, and Cochrane set +it up level with the floor, leaning against the supports at the side. + +"Is that the way it always stays?" inquired the Secret Service man. + +"No, sir, but it's pretty heavy to handle, and I thought you just wanted +to get a general idea of things." + +"I'd like to see it in place, if you don't mind. Here, I'll help you +with it--but we better slip our coats off, for it looks like a +man's-sized job," and he removed his coat as he spoke. + +After Cochrane had followed his example, the two of them hung the heavy +door from its hinges and stepped back to get the effect. But Drummond's +eyes were fixed, not upon the entrance to the grille, but on the middle +of Cochrane's back, and, when the opportunity offered an instant later, +he shifted his gaze to the waist of the elder man's trousers. Something +that he saw there caused the shadow of a smile to flit across his face. + +"Thanks," he said. "That will do nicely," and he made a quick gesture to +Preston that he would like to have Cochrane leave the vault. + +"Very much obliged, Mr. Cochrane," said the director. "We won't bother +you any more. You might ask those men to hurry in with the bars, if you +will." + +And the weigher, pausing only to secure his coat, left the vault. + +"Why all the stage setting?" inquired Preston. "You don't suspect...." + +"I don't suspect a thing," Drummond smiled, searching for his own coat, +"beyond the fact that the solution to the mystery is so simple as to be +almost absurd. By the way, have you noticed those scratches on the bars +of the grille, about four feet from the floor?" + +"No, I hadn't," admitted the director. "But what of them? These vaults +aren't new, you know, and I dare say you'd find similar marks on the +grille bars in any of the others." + +"I hope not," Drummond replied, grimly, "for that would almost +certainly mean a shortage of gold in other sections of the Mint. +Incidentally, has all the rest of the gold been weighed?" + +"Every ounce of it." + +"Nothing missing?" + +"Outside of the seven hundred pounds from this vault, not a particle." + +"Good--then I'll be willing to lay a small wager that you can't find the +duplicates of these scratches anywhere else in the Mint." And Drummond +smiled at the director's perplexity. + +When the men arrived with a truck loaded with gold bars, they stacked +them--at the superintendent's direction--along the side of the grille +nearest the vault entrance. + +"Is that the way they are usually arranged?" inquired Drummond. + +"Yes--the grille bars are of tempered steel and the openings between +them are too small to permit anyone to put his hand through. Therefore, +as we are somewhat pressed for space, we stack them up right along the +outer wall of the grille and then work back. It saves time and labor in +bringing them in." + +"Is this the way the door of the grille ordinarily hangs?" + +Bosbyshell inspected it a moment before he replied. + +"Yes," he said. "It appears to be all right. It was purposely made to +swing clear of the floor and the ceiling so that it might not become +jammed. The combination and the use of the seal prevents its being +opened by anyone who has no business in the grille." + +"And the seal was intact when you came in yesterday afternoon?" + +"It was." + +"Thanks," said Drummond; "that was all I wanted to know," and he made +his way upstairs with a smile which seemed to say that his vacation in +the Maine woods had not been indefinitely postponed. + +Once back in the director's office, the government operative asked +permission to use the telephone, and, calling the Philadelphia office of +the Secret Service, requested that three agents be assigned to meet him +down town as soon as possible. + +"Have you a record of the home address of the people employed in the +Mint?" Drummond inquired of the director, as he hung up the receiver. + +"Surely," said Preston, producing a typewritten list from the drawer of +his desk. + +"I'll borrow this for a while, if I may. I'll probably be back with it +before three o'clock--and bring some news with me, too," and the +operative was out of the room before Preston could frame a single +question. + +As a matter of fact, the clock in the director's office pointed to +two-thirty when Drummond returned, accompanied by the three men who had +been assigned to assist him. + +"Have you discovered anything?" Preston demanded. + +"Let's have Cochrane up here first," Drummond smiled. "I can't be +positive until I've talked to him. You might have the superintendent in, +too. He'll be interested in developments, I think." + +Bosbyshell was the first to arrive, and, at Drummond's request, took up +a position on the far side of the room. As soon as he had entered, two +of the other Secret Service men ranged themselves on the other side of +the doorway and, the moment Cochrane came in, closed the door behind +him. + +"Cochrane," said Drummond, "what did you do with the seven hundred +pounds of gold that you took from Vault No. Six during the past few +weeks?" + +"What--what--" stammered the weigher. + +"There's no use bluffing," continued the detective. "We've got the goods +on you. The only thing missing is the gold itself, and the sooner you +turn it over the more lenient the government will be with you. I know +how you got the bars out of the grille--a piece of bent wire was +sufficient to dislodge them from the top of the pile nearest the grille +bars and it was easy to slip them under the door. No wonder the seal was +never tampered with. It wasn't necessary for you to go inside the grille +at all. + +"But, more than that, I know how you carried the bars, one at a time, +out of the Mint. It took these three men less than an hour this +afternoon to find the tailor who fixed the false pocket in the front of +your trousers--the next time you try a job of this kind you better +attend to all these details yourself--and it needed only one look at +your suspenders this morning to see that they were a good deal wider and +heavier than necessary. That long coat you are in the habit of wearing +is just the thing to cover up any suspicious bulge in your garments and +the guard at the door, knowing you, would never think of telling you to +stop unless you carried a package or something else contrary to orders. + +"The people in your neighborhood say that they've seen queer bluish +lights in the basement of your house on Woodland Avenue. So I suspect +you've been melting that gold up and hiding it somewhere, ready for a +quick getaway. + +"Yes, Cochrane, we've got the goods on you and if you want to save half +of a twenty-year sentence--which at your age means life--come across +with the information. Where is the gold?" + +"In the old sewer pipe," faltered the weigher, who appeared to have aged +ten years while Drummond was speaking. "In the old sewer pipe that +leads from my basement." + +"Good!" exclaimed Drummond. "I think Mr. Preston will use his influence +with the court to see that your sentence isn't any heavier than +necessary. It's worth that much to guard the Mint against future losses +of the same kind, isn't it, Mr. Director?" + +"It surely is," replied Preston. "But how in the name of Heaven did you +get the answer so quickly?" + +Drummond delayed his answer until Cochrane, accompanied by the three +Secret Service men, had left the room. Then-- + +"Nothing but common sense," he said. "You remember those scratches I +called your attention to--the ones on the side of the grille bars? They +were a clear indication of the way in which the gold had been taken from +the grille--knocked down from the top of the pile with a piece of wire +and pulled under the door of the grille. That eliminated Jamison and +Strubel immediately. They needn't have gone to that trouble, even if it +had been possible for them to get into the vault in the first place. + +"But I had my suspicions of Cochrane when he was unable to open the +vault door. That pointed to nervousness, and nervousness indicated a +guilty conscience. I made the hanging of the grille door an excuse to +get him to shed his coat--though I did want to see whether the door came +all the way down to the floor--and I noted that his suspenders were very +broad and his trousers abnormally wide around the waist. He didn't want +to take any chances with that extra fourteen pounds of gold, you know. +It would never do to drop it in the street. + +"The rest is merely corroborative. I found that bluish lights had been +observed in the basement of Cochrane's house, and one of my men located +the tailor who had enlarged his trousers. That's really all there was +to it." + +With that Drummond started to the door, only to be stopped by Director +Preston's inquiry as to where he was going. + +"On my vacation, which you interrupted this morning," replied the Secret +Service man. + +"It's a good thing I did," Preston called after him. "If Cochrane had +really gotten away with that gold we might never have caught him." + + * * * * * + +"Which," as Bill Quinn said, when he finished his narrative, "is the +reason I claim that the telegraph boy who persisted in paging Drummond +is the one who was really responsible for the saving of some hundred and +thirty thousand dollars that belonged to Uncle Sam." + +"But, surely," I said, "that case was an exception. In rapidity of +action, I mean. Don't governmental investigations usually take a long +time?" + +"Frequently," admitted Quinn, "they drag on and on for months--sometimes +years. But it's seldom that Uncle Sam fails to land his man--even though +the trail leads into the realms of royalty, as in the Ypiranga case. +That happened before the World War opened, but it gave the State +Department a mighty good line on what to expect from Germany." + + + + +III + +THE YPIRANGA CASE + + +"Mexico," said Bill Quinn, who now holds a soft berth in the Treasury +Department by virtue of an injury received in the line of duty--during a +raid on counterfeiters a few years ago, to be precise--"is back on the +first page of the papers again after being crowded off for some four +years because of the World War. Funny coincidence, that, when you +remember that it was this same Mexico that gave us our first indication +of the way we might expect Germany to behave." + +"Huh?" I said, a bit startled. "What do you mean? The first spark of the +war was kindled in Serbia, not Mexico. Outside of the rumblings of the +Algeciras case and one or two other minor affairs, there wasn't the +slightest indication of the conflict to come." + +"No?" and Quinn's eyebrows went up in interrogation. "How about the +Ypiranga case?" + +"The which?" + +"The Ypiranga case--the one where Jack Stewart stumbled across a clue in +a Mexico City cafe which led all the way to Berlin and back to +Washington and threatened to precipitate a row before the Kaiser was +quite ready for it?" + +"No," I admitted, "that's a page of underground history that I haven't +read--and I must confess that I don't know Stewart, either." + +"Probably not," said the former Secret Service man. "He wasn't +connected with any of the branches of the government that get into print +very often. As a matter of fact, the very existence of the organization +to which he belonged isn't given any too much publicity. Everyone knows +of the Secret Service and the men who make the investigations for the +Department of Justice and the Post-office Department--but the Department +of State, for obvious reasons, conducts its inquiries in a rather more +diplomatic manner. Its agents have to pose as commercial investigators, +or something else equally as prosaic. Their salaries are, as a general +thing, paid out of the President's private allowance or out of the fund +given to the department 'for use as it may see fit.' Less than half a +dozen people know the actual status of the organization or the names of +its members at any one time, and its exploits are recorded only in the +archives of the State Department." + +"But who," I persisted, as Quinn stopped, "was Jack Stewart and what was +the nature of the affair upon which he stumbled in Mexico City?" + + * * * * * + +Stewart [replied Quinn] was just a quiet, ordinary sort of chap, the +kind that you'd expect to find behind a desk in the State Department, +sorting out consular reports and handling routine stuff. Nothing +exceptional about him at all--which was probably one reason for his +being selected for work as a secret agent of the Department. It doesn't +do, you know, to pick men who are conspicuous, either in their dress or +manner. Too easy to spot and remember them. The chap who's swallowed up +in the crowd is the one who can get by with a whole lot of quiet work +without being suspected. + +When they sent Jack down to Mexico they didn't have the slightest idea +he'd uncover anything as big as he did. The country south of the Rio +Grande, if you recall, had been none too quiet for some time prior to +1914. Taft had had his troubles with it ever since the end of the Diaz +regime, and when Wilson came in the "Mexican question" was a legacy that +caused the men in the State Department to spend a good many sleepless +nights. + +All sorts of rumors, most of them wild and bloody, floated up through +official and unofficial channels. The one fact that seemed to be certain +was that Mexico was none too friendly to the United States, and that +some other nation was behind this feeling, keeping it constantly stirred +up and overlooking no opportunity to add fuel to the flame. Three or +four other members of the State Department's secret organization had +been wandering around picking up leads for some months past and, upon +the return of one of these to Washington, Stewart was sent to replace +him. + +His instructions were simple and delightfully indefinite. He was to +proceed to Mexico City, posing as the investigator for a financial house +in New York which was on the lookout for a soft concession from the +Mexican government. This would give him an opportunity to seek the +acquaintance of Mexican officials and lend an air of plausibility to +practically any line that he found it necessary to follow. But, once at +the capital with his alibis well established, he was to overlook nothing +which might throw light upon the question that had been bothering +Washington for some time past--just which one of the foreign powers was +fanning the Mexican unrest and to what lengths it was prepared to go? + +Of course, the State Department suspected--just as we now know--that +Berlin was behind the movement, but at that time there was no indication +of the reason. In the light of later events, however, the plan is plain. +Germany, feeling certain that the greatest war Europe had ever known +was a matter of the immediate future, was laying her plans to keep other +nations out of the conflict. She figured that Mexico was the best foil +for the United States and that our pitifully small army would have its +hands full with troubles at home. If not, she intended to let Japan +enter into the equation--as shown by the Zimmerman note some two years +later. + +When Stewart got to Mexico City, it did not take him long to discover +that there was an undercurrent of animosity to the United States which +made itself felt in numberless ways. Some of the Mexican papers, +apparently on a stronger financial basis than ever before, were +outspoken in their criticism of American dollars and American dealings. +The people as a whole, long dominated by Diaz, were being stirred to +resentment of the "Gringoes," who "sought to purchase the soul of a +nation as well as its mineral wealth." The improvements which American +capital had made were entirely overlooked, and the spotlight of +subsidized publicity was thrown upon the encroachments of the hated +Yankees. + +All this Stewart reported to Washington, and in reply was politely +informed that, while interesting, it was hardly news. The State +Department had known all this for months. The question was: Where was +the money coming from and what was the immediate object of the game? + +"Take your time and don't bother us unless you find something definite +to report," was the substance of the instructions cabled to Stewart. + +The secret agent, therefore, contented himself with lounging around the +very inviting cafes of the Mexican capital and making friends with such +officials as might be able to drop scraps of information. + +It was November when he first hit Mexico City. It was nearly the middle +of April before he picked up anything at all worth while. Of course, in +the meantime he had uncovered a number of leads--but every one of them +was blind. For a day or two, or a week at most, they would hold out +glowing promise of something big just around the corner. Then, when he +got to the end of the rainbow, he would find an empty pail in place of +the pot of gold he had hoped for. + +It wasn't surprising, therefore, that Stewart was growing tired of the +life of continual mystery, of developments that never developed, of +secrets that were empty and surprises that faded away into nothing. + +It was on the 13th of April, while seated at a little table in front of +a sidewalk cafe on the Calles de Victoria, that the American agent +obtained his first real clue to the impending disaster. + +When two Mexicans whom he knew by sight, but not by name, sat down at a +table near his he pricked up his ears purely by instinct, rather than +through any real hope of obtaining information of value. + +The arrival of the usual sugared drinks was followed by a few words of +guarded conversation, and then one of the Mexicans remarked, in a tone a +trifle louder than necessary, that "the United States is a nation of +cowardly women, dollar worshipers who are afraid to fight, and braggarts +who would not dare to back up their threats." + +It was an effort for Stewart to remain immersed in the newspaper propped +up in front of him. Often as he had heard these sentiments expressed, +his Southern blood still rose involuntarily--until his logic reminded +him that his mission was not to start a quarrel, but to end one. He knew +that no good could ensue from his taking up the challenge, and the very +fact that the speaker had raised his voice gave him the tip that the +words were uttered for his especial benefit, to find out whether he +understood Spanish--for he made no attempt to disguise his nationality. + +With a smile which did not show on his lips, Stewart summoned the waiter +and in atrocious Spanish ordered another glass of lemonade. His complete +knowledge of the language was the one thing which he had managed to keep +entirely under cover ever since reaching Mexico, for he figured that the +natives would speak more freely in his presence if they believed he +could not gather what they were discussing. + +The trick worked to perfection. + +"Pig-headed Yankee," commented the Mexican who had first spoken. +"Lemonade! Pah!--they haven't the nerve to take a man's drink!" and he +drained his glass of _pulque_ at a single gulp. + +The other, who had not spoken above a whisper, raised his glass and +regarded it in silence for a moment. Then--"Prosit," he said, and drank. + +"_Nom di Dio_," warned his companion. "Be careful! The American hog does +not speak Spanish well enough to understand those who use it fluently, +but he may speak German." + +Stewart smothered a smile behind his paper. Spanish had always been a +hobby of his--but he only knew about three words in German! + +"I understand," continued the Mexican, "that Victoriano is preparing for +the coup, just as I always figured he would" (Stewart knew that +"Victoriano" was the familiar form in which the populace referred to +Victoriano Huerta, self-appointed President of Mexico and the man who +had steadfastly defied the American government in every way possible, +taking care not to allow matters to reach such a hot stage that he could +handle them through diplomatic promises to see that things "improved in +the future"). + +"_El Presidente_ has always been careful to protect himself"--the +speaker went on--"but now that you have brought definite assurance from +our friends that the money and the arms will be forthcoming within the +fortnight there is nothing further to fear from the Yankee pigs. It will +be easy to stir up sentiment against them here overnight, and before +they can mass their handful of troops along the Rio Grande we will have +retaken Texas and wiped out the insult of 'forty-eight. What is the +latest news from the ship?" + +"The ----?" inquired the man across the table, but his Teutonic +intonation of what was evidently a Spanish name was so jumbled that all +Stewart could catch was the first syllable--something that sounded like +"_Eep_." + +"Is that the name?" asked the Mexican. + +"Yes," replied the other. "She sailed from Hamburg on the seventh. +Allowing two weeks for the passage--she isn't fast, you know--that would +bring her into Vera Cruz about the twenty-first. Once there, the arms +can be landed and...." + +The events of the next few minutes moved so rapidly that, when Stewart +had time to catch his breath, he found it difficult to reconstruct the +affair with accuracy. + +He recalled that he had been so interested in the conversation at the +next table that he had failed to notice the approach of the only other +man he knew in the State Department's secret organization--Dawson, who +had been prowling around the West Coast on an errand similar to his. +Before he knew it Dawson had clapped him on the back and exclaimed: +"Hello, Jack! Didn't expect to see you here--thought you'd be looking +over things in the vicinity of the Palace." + +The words themselves were innocent enough, but--they were spoken in +fluent, rapid Spanish and Stewart had shown that he understood! + +"_Sapristi!_" hissed the Mexican. "Did you see?" and he bent forward to +whisper hurriedly to his companion. + +Stewart recovered himself instantly, but the damage had been done. + +"Hello, Dawson," he answered in English, trusting that the men at the +next table had not noted his slip. "Sit down and have something? Rotten +weather, isn't it? And not a lead in sight. These Mexicans seem to be +afraid to enter into any contract that ties them up more than a +year--and eighteen revolutions can happen in that time." + +As Dawson seated himself, Stewart gave him a hasty sign to be careful. +Watching the Mexican and his companion out of the corner of his eye, he +steered the conversation into harmless channels, but a moment later the +pair at the next table called the waiter, gave some whispered +instructions, and left. + +"What's the matter?" asked Dawson. + +"Nothing--except that I involuntarily registered a knowledge of Spanish +when you spoke to me just now, and I've spent several months building up +a reputation for knowing less about the language than anyone in Mexico +City. As luck would have it, there was a couple seated at the next table +who were giving me what sounded like the first real dope I've had since +I got here. I'll tell you about it later. The question now is to get +back to the hotel before that precious pair get in their dirty work. A +code message to Washington is all I ask--but, if I'm not mistaken, we +are going to have our work cut out for us on the way back." + +"Scott! Serious as that, is it?" muttered Dawson. "Well, there are two +of us and I'd like to see their whole dam' army try to stop us. Let's +go!" + +"Wait a minute," counseled Stewart. "There's no real hurry, for they +wouldn't dare try to start anything in the open. In case we get +separated or--if anything should happen--wire the Department in code +that a vessel with a Spanish name--something that begins with 'Eep'--has +cleared Hamburg, loaded with guns and ammunition. Expected at Vera Cruz +about the twenty-first. Germany's behind the whole plot. Now I'll settle +up and we'll move." + +But as he reached for his pocketbook a Mexican swaggering along the +sidewalk deliberately stumbled against his chair and sent him sprawling. +Dawson was on his feet in an instant, his fists clenched and ready for +action. + +But Stewart had noted that the Mexican had three companions and that one +of the men who had occupied the adjoining table was watching the affair +from a vantage point half a block away. + +With a leap that was catlike in its agility, Stewart seized the +swaggering native by the legs in a football tackle, and upset him +against his assistants. + +"Quick, this way!" he called to Dawson, starting up the street away from +the watcher at the far corner. As he ran, his hand slipped into his coat +pocket where the small, but extremely efficient, automatic with which +all government agents are supplied usually rested. But the gun wasn't +there! Apparently it had slipped out in the scuffle a moment before. + +Hardly had he realized that he was unarmed before he and Dawson were +confronted by five other natives coming from the opposite direction. The +meager lighting system of the Mexican capital, however, was rather a +help than a detriment, for in the struggle which followed it was +practically impossible to tell friend from foe. The two Americans, +standing shoulder to shoulder, had the added advantage of +teamwork--something which the natives had never learned. + +"Don't use your gun if you can help it," Stewart warned. "We don't want +the police in on this!" + +As he spoke his fist shot out and the leader of the attacking party +sprawled in the street. No sound came from Dawson, beyond a grunt, as he +landed on the man he had singled out of the bunch. The ten seconds that +followed were jammed with action, punctuated with the shrill cries for +reinforcements from the Mexicans, and brightened here and there by the +dull light from down the street which glinted off the long knives--the +favorite weapon of the Latin-American fighter. + +Stewart and Dawson realized that they must not only fight, but fight +fast. Every second brought closer the arrival of help from the rear, but +Dawson waited until he could hear the reinforcements almost upon them +before he gave the word to break through. Then-- + +"Come on, Jack!" he called. "Let's go!" + +Heads down, fists moving with piston-like precision, the two Americans +plowed their way through. Dawson swore later that he felt at least one +rib give under the impact of the blows and he knew that he nursed a sore +wrist for days, but Stewart claimed that his energies were concentrated +solely on the scrap and that he didn't have time to receive any +impression of what was going on. He knew that he had to fight his way +out--that it was essential for one of them to reach the telegraph office +or the embassy with the news they carried. + +It was a case of fight like the devil and trust to luck and the darkness +for aid. + +Almost before they knew it, they had broken through the trio in front of +them and had turned down the Calles Ancha, running in a form that would +have done credit to a college track team. Behind them they heard the +muffled oaths of their pursuers as they fell over the party they had +just left. + +"They don't want to attract the police any more than we do," gasped +Dawson. "They don't dare shoot!" + +But as he spoke there came the z-z-i-pp of a bullet, accompanied by the +sharp crack of a revolver somewhere behind them. + +"Careful," warned Stewart. "We've got to skirt that street light ahead. +Duck and--" + +But with that he crumpled up, a bullet through his hip. + +Without an instant's hesitation Dawson stooped, swung his companion over +his shoulder, and staggered on, his right hand groping for his +automatic. Once out of the glare of the arc light, he felt that he would +be safe, at least for a moment. + +Then, clattering toward them, he heard a sound that spelled safety--one +of the open nighthawk cabs that prowl around the streets of the Mexican +capital. + +Shifting Stewart so that his feet rested on the ground, he wheeled and +raked the street behind him with a fusillade from his automatic. There +was only a dull mass of whitish clothing some fifty yards away at which +to aim, but he knew that the counter-attack would probably gain a few +precious seconds of time--time sufficient to stop the cab and to put his +plan into operation. + +The moment the cab came into the circle of light from the street lamp +Dawson dragged his companion toward it, seized the horse's bridle with +his free hand and ordered the driver to halt. + +Before the cabby had recovered his wits the two Americans were in the +vehicle and Dawson had his revolver pressed none too gently into the +small of the driver's back. The weapon was empty, but the Mexican +didn't know that, and he responded instantly to Dawson's order to turn +around and drive "as if seventy devils of Hades were after him!" + +Outside of a few stray shots that followed as they disappeared up the +street, the drive to the Embassy was uneventful, and, once under the +shelter of the American flag, the rest was easy. + +Stewart, it developed, had sustained only a flesh wound through the +muscles of his hip--painful, but not dangerous. Within ten minutes after +he had reached O'Shaughnessy's office he was dictating a code wire to +Washington--a cable which stated that a vessel with a Spanish name, +commencing with something that sounded like "Eep," had cleared Hamburg +on the seventh, loaded with arms and ammunition destined to advance the +interests of Mexican revolutionists and to hamper the efforts of the +United States to preserve order south of the border. + +The wire reached Washington at noon of the following day and was +instantly transmitted to Berlin, with instructions to Ambassador Gerard +to look into the matter and report immediately. + + Vessel in question is probably the _Ypiranga_ [stated a code + the following morning]. Cleared Hamburg on date mentioned, + presumably loaded with grain. Rumors here of large shipment + of arms to some Latin American republic. Practically certain + that Wilhelmstrasse is behind the move, but impossible to + obtain confirmation. Motive unknown. + +Ten minutes after this message had been decoded the newspaper +correspondents at the White House noted that a special Cabinet meeting +had been called, but no announcement was made of its purpose or of the +business transacted, beyond the admission that "the insult to the flag +at Tampico had been considered." + +Promptly at noon the great wireless station at Arlington flashed a +message to Admiral Mayo, in command of the squadron off the Mexican +coast. In effect, it read: + + Proceed immediately to Vera Cruz. Await arrival of steamer + _Ypiranga_, loaded with arms. Prevent landing at any cost. + Blockade upon pretext of recent insult to flag. Atlantic + Fleet ordered to your support. + + * * * * * + +"The rest of the story," concluded Quinn, "is a matter of history. How +the fleet bottled up the harbor at Vera Cruz, how it was forced to send +a landing party ashore under fire, and how seventeen American sailors +lost their lives during the guerrilla attack which followed. All that +was spread across the front pages of American papers in big black +type--but the fact that a steamer named the _Ypiranga_ had been held up +by the American fleet and forced to anchor at a safe distance offshore, +under the guns of the flagship, was given little space. Apparently it +was a minor incident--but in reality it was the crux of the whole +situation, an indication of Germany's rancor, which was to burst its +bounds before four months had passed, another case in which the arm of +Uncle Sam had been long enough to stretch halfway across a continent and +nip impending disaster." + +"But," I inquired, as he paused, "what became of Dawson and Stewart?" + +"That I don't know," replied Quinn. "The last time I heard of Jack he +had a captain's commission in France and was following up his feud with +the Hun that started in Mexico City four months before the rest of the +world dreamed of war. Dawson, I believe, is still in the Department, and +rendered valuable assistance in combating German propaganda in Chile and +Peru. He'll probably be rewarded with a consular job in some +out-of-the-way hole, for, now that the war is over, the organization to +which he belongs will gradually dwindle to its previous small +proportions. + +"Strange, wasn't it, how that pair stumbled across one of the first +tentacles of the World War in front of a cafe in Mexico City? That's one +beauty of government detective work--you never know when the monotony is +going to be blown wide open by the biggest thing you ever happened upon. + +"There was little Mary McNilless, who turned up the clue which prevented +an explosion, compared to which the Black Tom affair would have been a +Sunday-school party. She never dreamed that she would prevent the loss +of millions of dollars' worth of property and at least a score of lives, +but she did--without moving from her desk." + +"How?" I asked. + +But Quinn yawned, looked at his watch, and said: "That's entirely too +long a story to spin right now. It's past my bedtime, and Mrs. Quinn's +likely to be fussy if I'm not home by twelve at least. She says that now +I have an office job she can at least count on my being round to guard +the house--something that she never could do before. So let's leave Mary +for another time. Goodnight"--and he was off. + + + + +IV + +THE CLUE ON SHELF 45 + + +"Of course, it is possible that patriotism might have prompted Mary +McNilless to locate the clue which prevented an explosion that would +have seriously hampered the munitions industry of the United States--but +the fact remains that she did it principally because she was in love +with Dick Walters, and Dick happened to be in the Secret Service. It was +one case where Cupid scored over Mars." + +Bill Quinn eased the game leg which he won as the trophy of a +counterfeiting raid some years before into a more comfortable position, +reached for his pipe and tobacco pouch, and settled himself for another +reminiscence of the Service with which he had formerly been actively +connected. + +"Mary was--and doubtless still is--one of those red-headed, blue-eyed +Irish beauties whom nature has peppered with just enough freckles to +make them alluring, evidences that the sun itself couldn't help kissing +her. But, from all I've been able to gather, the sun was in a class by +itself. Until Dick Walters came upon the scene, Miss McNilless held +herself strictly aloof from masculine company and much preferred to +spend an evening with her books than to take a trip to Coney or any of +the other resorts where a girl's kisses pass as current coin in payment +for three or four hours' outing. + +"Dick was just the kind of chap that would have appealed to Mary, or to +'most any other girl, for that matter. Maybe you remember him. He used +to be at the White House during Taft's regime, but they shifted most of +the force soon after Wilson came in and Dick was sent out to the Coast +on an opium hunt that kept him busy for more than a year. In fact, he +came east just in time to be assigned to the von Ewald case--and, +incidentally, to fall foul of Mary and Cupid, a pair that you couldn't +tie, much less beat." + + * * * * * + +The von Ewald case [Quinn continued, after pausing a moment to repack +his pipe] was one of the many exploits of the Secret Service that never +got in the papers. To be strictly truthful, it wasn't as much a triumph +for the S. S. as it was for Mary McNilless--and, besides, we weren't at +war with Germany at that time, so it had to be kept rather dark. + +But Germany was at war with us. You remember the Black Tom explosion in +August, nineteen sixteen? Well, if the plans of von Ewald and his +associates hadn't been frustrated by a little red-headed girl with +exceptional powers of observation, there would have been a detonation in +Wilmington, Delaware, that would have made the Black Tom affair, with +its damage of thirty millions of dollars, sound like the college yell of +a deaf-and-dumb institute. + +As far back as January, nineteen sixteen, the Secret Service knew that +there were a number of Germans in New York who desired nothing so much +as to hinder the munitions industry of the United States, despite the +fact that we were a neutral nation. + +From Harry Newton, the leader in the second plot to destroy the Welland +Canal, and from Paul Seib, who was implicated in the attempt to destroy +shipping at Hoboken, they forced the information that the conspirators +received their orders and drew their pay from a man of many aliases, +known to his associates as "Number eight fifty-nine" and occasionally, +to the world at large, as "von Ewald." + +This much was known in Washington--but, when you came to analyze the +information, it didn't amount to a whole lot. It's one thing to know +that some one is plotting murder and arson on a wholesale scale, but +discovering the identity of that individual is an entirely different +proposition, one which called for all the finesse and obstinacy for +which the governmental detective services are famous. + +Another factor that complicated the situation was that speed was +essential. The problem was entirely different from a counterfeiting or +smuggling case, where you can be content to let the people on the other +side of the table make as many moves as they wish, with the practical +certainty that you'll land them sooner or later. "Give them plenty of +rope and they'll land in Leavenworth" is a favorite axiom in the +Service--but here you had to conserve your rope to the uttermost. Every +day that passed meant that some new plot was that much nearer +completion--that millions of dollars in property and the lives of +no-one-knew-how-many people were still in danger. + +So the order went forward from the headquarters of the Service, "Get the +man known as von Ewald and get him quick!" + +Secret Service men, Postal inspectors, and Department of Justice agents +were called in from all parts of the country and rushed to New York, +until the metropolis looked like the headquarters of a convention of +governmental detectives. Grogan, the chap that landed Perry, the +master-counterfeiter, was there, as were George MacMasters and Sid +Shields, who prevented the revolution in Cuba three or four years ago. +Jimmy Reynolds was borrowed from the Internal Revenue Bureau, and +Althouse, who spoke German like a native, was brought up from the +border where he had been working on a propaganda case just across the +line. + +There must have been forty men turned loose on this assignment alone, +and, in the course of the search for von Ewald, there were a number of +other developments scarcely less important than the main issue. At least +two of these--the Trenton taxicab tangle and the affair of the girl at +the switchboard--are exploits worthy of separate mention. + +But, in spite of the great array of detective talent, no one could get a +line on von Ewald. + +In April, when Dick Walters returned from the Coast, the other men in +the Service were frankly skeptical as to whether there was a von Ewald +at all. They had come to look upon him as a myth, a bugaboo. They +couldn't deny that there must be some guiding spirit to the Teutonic +plots, but they rather favored the theory that several men, rather than +one, were to blame. + +Walters' instructions were just like the rest--to go to New York and +stick on the job until the German conspirator was apprehended. + +"Maybe it's one man, maybe there're half a dozen," the chief admitted, +"but we've got to nail 'em. The very fact that they haven't started +anything of consequence since the early part of the year would appear to +point to renewed activity very shortly. It's up to you and the other men +already in New York to prevent the success of any of these plots." + +Walters listened patiently to all the dope that had been gathered and +then figured, as had every new man, that it was up to him to do a little +sleuthing of his own. + +The headquarters of the German agents was supposed to be somewhere in +Greenwich Village, on one of those half-grown alleys that always +threatens to meet itself coming back. But more than a score of +government operatives had combed that part of the town without securing +a trace of anything tangible. On the average of once a night the phone +at headquarters would ring and some one at the other end would send in a +hurry call for help up in the Bronx or in Harlem or some other distant +part of the city where he thought he had turned up a clue. The men on +duty would leap into the machine that always waited at the curb and +fracture every speed law ever made--only to find, when they arrived, +that it was a false alarm. + +Finally, after several weeks of that sort of thing, conditions commenced +to get on Dick's nerves. + +"I'm going to tackle this thing on my own," he announced. "Luck is going +to play as much of a part in landing von Ewald as anything else--and +luck never hunted with more than one man. Good-by! See you fellows +later." + +But it was a good many weeks--August, to be precise--before the men in +the Federal Building had the opportunity of talking to Walters. He would +report over the phone, of course, and drop down there every few +days--but he'd only stay long enough to find out if there was any real +news or any orders from Washington. Then he'd disappear uptown. + +"Dick's sure got a grouch these days," was the comment that went around +after Walters had paid one of his flying visits. + +"Yeh," grunted Barry, who was on duty that night, "either the von Ewald +case's got on his nerves or he's found a girl that can't see him." + +Neither supposition missed the mark very far. + +Walters was getting sick and tired of the apparently fruitless chase +after an elusive German. He had never been known to flinch in the face +of danger--often went out of his way to find it, in fact--but this +constant search for a man whom nobody knew, a man of whom there wasn't +the slightest description, was nerve-racking, to say the least. + +Then, too, he had met Mary McNilless. + +He'd wandered into the Public Library one evening just before closing +time, and, like many another man, had fallen victim to Mary's red hair +and Mary's Irish eyes. But a brick wall was a soft proposition compared +to Mary McNilless. Snubbing good-looking young men who thought that the +tailors were missing an excellent model was part of the day's work with +the little library girl--though she secretly admitted to herself that +this one was a bit above the average. + +Dick didn't get a rise that night, though, or for some days after. Every +evening at seven found him at the desk over which Miss McNilless +presided, framing some almost intelligent question about books in order +to prolong the conversation. Mary would answer politely and--that was +all. + +But, almost imperceptibly, a bond of friendship sprang up between them. +Maybe it was the fact that Dick's mother had been Irish, too, or +possibly it was because he admitted to himself that this girl was +different from the rest, and, admitting it, laid the foundation for a +deep-souled respect that couldn't help but show in his manner. + +Within the month Dick was taking her home, and in six weeks they were +good pals, bumming around to queer, out-of-the-way restaurants and +planning outings which Dick, in his heart, knew could never +materialize--not until von Ewald had been run to cover, at any rate. + +Several times Mary tried to find out her companion's +profession--diplomatically, of course, but nevertheless she was curious. +Naturally, Dick couldn't tell her. Said he had "just finished a job on +the Coast and was taking a vacation in New York." But Mary had sense +enough to know that he wasn't at leisure. Also that he was working on +something that kept his mind constantly active--for several times he had +excused himself in a hurry and then returned, anywhere from half an hour +to an hour later, with a rather crestfallen expression. + +After they had reached the "Dick and Mary" stage she came right out one +night and asked him. + +"Hon," he told her, "that's one thing that I've got to keep from you for +a while. It's nothing that you would be ashamed of, though, but +something that will make you mighty proud. At least," he added, "It'll +make you proud if I don't fall down on the job almighty hard. Meanwhile, +all I can do is to ask you to trust me. Will you?" + +The tips of her fingers rested on the back of his hand for just a moment +before she said, "You know I will, Dick"--and neither of them mentioned +the subject from that time on. + +On the night of the Black Tom explosion, early in August, Dick didn't +show up at the Library at the usual hour, and, while this didn't worry +Mary, because it had happened several times before, she began to be +annoyed when three nights passed the same way. Of course, she had no way +of knowing that the Service had received a tip from a stool pigeon on +the pay roll of the New York police force that "a bunch of Germans were +planning a big explosion of some kind" just a few hours before the earth +rocked with the force of the blow-up in Jersey. Every government +operative in the city had been informed of the rumor, but few of them +had taken it seriously and not one had any reason to expect that the +plot would culminate so close to New York. But the echo of the first +blast had hardly died away before there were a dozen agents on the spot, +weaving a network around the entire district. All they got for their +pains, however, was a few suspects who very evidently didn't know a +thing. + +So it was a very tired and disgusted Dick who entered the Library four +nights later and almost shambled up to Mary's desk. + +"I'll be off duty in half an hour," she told him. "From the way you +look, you need a little comforting." + +"I do that," he admitted. "Don't make me wait any longer than you have +to," and he amused himself by glancing over the late seekers after +knowledge. + +When they had finally seated themselves in a cozy corner of a little +restaurant in the upper Forties, Dick threw caution to the winds and +told Mary all about his troubles. + +"I haven't the least business to do it," he confessed, "and if the chief +found it out I'd be bounced so fast that it would make my head swim. +But, in the first place, I want you to marry me, and I know you wouldn't +think of doing that unless you knew something more about me." + +There was just the flicker of a smile around Mary's mouth as she said, +almost perfunctorily, "No, of course not!" But her intuition told her +that this wasn't the time to joke, and, before Walters could go on, she +added, "I know you well enough, Dick, not to worry about that end of +it." + +So Walters told her everything from the beginning--and it didn't take +more than five minutes at that. Outside of the fact that his people +lived in Des Moines, that he had been in the Secret Service for eight +years, and that he hadn't been able to do a thing toward the +apprehension of a certain German spy that the government was extremely +anxious to locate, there was pitifully little to tell. + +"The whole thing," he concluded, "came to a head the other night--the +night I didn't show up. We knew that something was going to break, +somewhere, but we couldn't discover where until it was too late to +prevent the explosion across the river. Now that they've gotten away +with that, they'll probably lay their lines for something even bigger." + +"Well, now that I've told you, what d'you think?" + +"You mean you'd like to marry me?" Mary asked with a smile. + +"I don't know how to put it any plainer," Dick admitted--and what +followed caused the waiter to wheel around and suddenly commence dusting +off a table that already was bright enough to see your face in. + +"There wasn't the slightest clue left after the Black Tom affair?" Mary +asked, as she straightened her hat. + +"Not one. We did find two of the bombs that hadn't exploded--devilishly +clever arrangements, with a new combination of chemicals. Something was +evidently wrong with the mixture, though, for they wouldn't go off, even +when our experts started to play with them. The man who made them +evidently wasn't quite sure of his ground. But there wasn't a thing +about the bombs themselves that would provide any indication of where +they came from." + +"The man who made them must have had a pretty thorough knowledge of +chemistry," Mary mused. + +"Mighty near perfect," admitted Walters. "At least six exploded on time, +and, from what I understand, they were loaded to the muzzle with a +mixture that no one but an expert would dare handle." + +"And," continued Mary, with just a hint of excitement in her voice, "the +bomb-maker would continue to investigate the subject. He would want to +get the latest information, the most recent books, the--" + +"What are you driving at?" Walters interrupted. + +"Just this," and Mary leaned across the table so that there was no +possibility of being overheard. "We girls have a good deal of time on +our hands, so we get into the habit of making conjectures and forming +theories about the 'regulars'--the people who come into the Library +often enough for us to know them by sight. + +"Up to a month ago there was a man who dropped into the reference room +nearly every day to consult books from Shelf Forty-five. Naturally he +came up to my desk, and, as he usually arrived during the slack periods, +I had plenty of time to study him. Maybe it was because I had been +reading Lombroso, or possibly it's because I am just naturally +observant, but I noticed that, in addition to each of his ears being +practically lobeless, one of them was quite pointed at the top--almost +like a fox's. + +"For a week he didn't show up, and then one day another man came in and +asked for a book from Shelf Forty-five. Just as he turned away I had a +shock. Apparently he wasn't in the least like the other man in anything +save height--but neither of his ears had any lobes to speak of and the +top of them was pointed! When he returned the book I looked him over +pretty thoroughly and came to the conclusion that, in spite of the fact +that his general appearance differed entirely from the other man's, they +were really one and the same!" + +"But what," grumbled Walters, "has that to do with the Black Tom +explosion?" + +"The last time this man came to the Library," said Mary, "was two days +before the night you failed to arrive--two days before the explosion. +And--Do you know what books are kept on Shelf Forty-five?" + +"No. What?" + +"The latest works on the chemistry of explosives!" + +Walters sat up with a jerk that threatened to overthrow the table. + +"Mary," he said, in a whisper, "I've a hunch that you've succeeded where +all the rest of us fell down! The disguises and the constant reference +to books on explosives are certainly worth looking into. What name did +this man give?" + +"Names," she corrected. "I don't recall what they were or the addresses, +either. But it would be easy to find them on the cards. We don't have +very many calls for books from Shelf Forty-five." + +"It doesn't matter, though," and Walters slipped back into his +disconsolate mood. "He wouldn't leave a lead as open as that, of +course." + +"No, certainly not," agreed Mary. "But the last time he was there he +asked for Professor Stevens's new book. It hadn't come in then, but I +told him we expected it shortly. So, unless you men have scared him off, +he'll be back in a day or two--possibly in a new disguise. Why don't you +see the librarian, get a place as attendant in the reference room, and +I'll tip you off the instant I spot that pointed ear. That's one thing +he can't hide!" + +The next morning there was a new employee in the reference room. No one +knew where he came from and no one--save the librarian and Mary +McNilless--knew what he was there for, because his principal occupation +appeared to be lounging around inconspicuously in the neighborhood of +the information desk. There he stayed for three days, wondering whether +this clue, like all the rest, would dissolve into thin air. + +About five o'clock on the afternoon of the third day a man strolled up +to Mary's desk and asked if Professor Stevens's book had come in yet. It +was reposing at that moment on Shelf Forty-five, as Mary well knew, but +she said she'd see, and left the room, carefully arranging her hair at +the back of her neck with her left hand--a signal which she and Dick had +agreed upon the preceding evening. + +Before she returned the new attendant had vanished, but Dick Walters, in +his usual garb, was loitering around the only entrance to the reference +room, watching the suspect out of the corner of his eye. + +"I'm sorry," Mary reported, "but the Stevens book won't be in until +to-morrow," and she was barely able to keep the anxiety out of her voice +as she spoke. + +Had Dick gotten her signal? Would he be able to trail his man? Could he +capture him without being injured? These and a score of other questions +rushed through her mind as she saw the German leave the room. Once +outside--well, she'd have to wait for Dick to tell her what happened +then. + +The man who was interested in the chemistry of explosives apparently +wasn't in the least afraid of being followed, for he took a bus uptown, +alighted at Eighty-third Street, and vanished into one of the +innumerable small apartment houses in that section of the city. Walters +kept close behind him, and he entered the lobby of the apartment house +in time to hear his quarry ascending to the fourth floor. Then he +signaled to the four men who had followed him up the Avenue in a +government-owned machine--men who had been stationed outside the Library +in the event of just such an occurrence--and instructed two of them to +guard the rear of the house, while the other two remained in front. + +"I'm going to make this haul myself," Walters stated, "but I want you +boys to cover up in case anything happens to me. No matter what occurs, +don't let him get away. Shoot first and ask questions afterward!" and he +had re-entered the house almost before he finished speaking. + +On the landing at the third floor he paused long enough to give the men +at the rear a chance to get located. Then--a quick ring at the bell on +the fourth floor and he waited for action. + +Nothing happened. Another ring--and still no response. + +As he pressed the button for the third time the door swung slowly +inward, affording only a glimpse of a dark, uninviting hall. But, once +he was inside, the door closed silently and he heard a bolt slipped into +place. Simultaneously a spot light, arranged over the doorway, flashed +on and Dick was almost dazzled by the glare. Out of the darkness came +the guttural inquiry: + +"What do you want?" + +"Not a thing in the world," replied Walters, "except to know if a man +named Simpson lives here." + +"No," came the voice, "he does not. Get out!" + +"Sure I will if you'll pull back that bolt. What's the idea, anyhow? +You're as mysterious as if you were running a bomb factory or +something--" + +As he spoke he ducked, for if the words had the effect he hoped, the +other would realize that he was cornered and attempt to escape. + +A guttural German oath, followed by a rapid movement of the man's hand +toward his hip pocket was the reply. In a flash Dick slipped forward, +bending low to avoid the expected attack, and seized the German in a +half nelson that defied movement. Backing out of the circle of light, he +held the helpless man in front of him--as a shelter in case of an +attack from other occupants of the apartment--and called for assistance. +The crash of glass at the rear told him that reinforcements had made +their way up the fire escape and had broken in through the window. A +moment later came the sound of feet on the stairs and the other two +operatives were at the door, revolvers drawn and ready for action. + +But there wasn't any further struggle. Von Ewald--or whatever his real +name was, for that was never decided--was alone and evidently realized +that the odds were overwhelming. Meekly, almost placidly, he allowed the +handcuffs to be slipped over his wrists and stood by as the Secret +Service men searched the apartment. Not a line or record was found to +implicate anyone else--but what they did discover was a box filled with +bombs precisely like those picked up on the scene of the Black Tom +explosion, proof sufficient to send the German to the penitentiary for +ten years--for our laws, unfortunately, do not permit of the death +penalty for spies unless caught red-handed by the military authorities. + +That he was the man for whom they were searching--the mysterious "No. +859"--was apparent from the fact that papers concealed in his desk +contained full details as to the arrangement of the Nemours plant at +Wilmington, Delaware, with a dozen red dots indicative of the best +places to plant bombs. Of his associates and the manner in which he +managed his organization there wasn't the slightest trace. But the Black +Tom explosion, if you recall, was the last big catastrophe of its kind +in America--and the capture of von Ewald was the reason that more of the +German plots didn't succeed. + +The Treasury Department realized this fact when Mary McNilless, on the +morning of the day she was to be married to Dick Walters, U. S. S. S., +received a very handsome chest of silver, including a platter engraved, +"To Miss Mary McNilless, whose cleverness and keen perception saved +property valued at millions of dollars." + +No one ever found out who sent it, but it's a safe bet that the order +came from Washington by way of Wilmington, where the Nemours plant still +stands--thanks to the quickness of Mary's Irish eyes. + + + + +V + +PHYLLIS DODGE, SMUGGLER EXTRAORDINARY + + +Bill Quinn tossed aside his evening paper and, cocking his feet upon a +convenient chair, remarked that, now that peace was finally signed, +sealed, and delivered, there ought to be a big boom in the favorite +pastime of the idle rich. + +"Meaning what?" I inquired. + +"Smuggling, of course," said Quinn, who only retired from Secret Service +when an injury received in action forced him to do so. + +"Did you ever travel on a liner when four out of every five people on +board didn't admit that they were trying to beat the customs officials +one way or another--and the only reason the other one didn't follow suit +was because he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. That's how Uncle +Sam's detectives pick up a lot of clues. The amateur crook never +realizes that silence is golden and that oftentimes speech leads to a +heavy fine. + +"Now that the freedom of the seas is an accomplished fact the whole crew +of would-be smugglers will doubtless get to work again, only to be +nabbed in port. Inasmuch as ocean travel has gone up with the rest of +the cost of living, it'll probably be a sport confined to the +comparatively rich, for a couple of years anyhow. + +"It was different in the old days. Every steamer that came in was loaded +to the eyes and you never knew when you were going to spot a hidden +necklace or a packet of diamonds that wasn't destined to pay duty. There +were thrills to the game, too, believe me. + +"Why, just take the case of Phyllis Dodge...." + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Dodge [Quinn continued, after he had packed his pipe to a condition +where it was reasonably sure to remain lighted for some time] was, +theoretically at least, a widow. Her full name, as it appeared on many +passenger lists during the early part of 1913, was Mrs. Mortimer C. +Dodge, of Cleveland, Ohio. When the customs officials came to look into +the matter they weren't able to find anyone in Cleveland who knew her, +but then it's no penal offense to give the purser a wrong address, or +even a wrong name, for that matter. + +While there may have been doubts about Mrs. Dodge's widowhood--or +whether she had ever been married, for that matter--there could be none +about her beauty. In the language of the classics, she was there. Black +hair, brown eyes, a peaches-and-cream complexion that came and went +while you watched it, and a figure that would have made her fortune in +the Follies. Joe Gregory said afterward that trailing her was one of the +easiest things he had ever done. + +To get the whole story of Phyllis and her extraordinary +cleverness--extraordinary because it was so perfectly obvious--we'll +have to cut back a few months before she came on the scene. + +For some time the Treasury Department had been well aware that a number +of precious stones, principally pearl necklaces, were being smuggled +into the country. Agents abroad--the department maintains a regular +force in Paris, London, Rotterdam, and other European points, you +know--had reported the sale of the jewels and they had turned up a few +weeks later in New York or Chicago. But the Customs Service never +considers it wise to trace stones back from their owners on this side. +There are too many ramifications to any well-planned smuggling scheme, +and it is too easy for some one to claim that he had found them in a +long-forgotten chest in the attic or some such story as that. The burden +of proof rests upon the government in a case of this kind and, except in +the last extremity, it always tries to follow the chase from the other +end--to nab the smuggler in the act and thus build up a jury-proof case. + +Reports of the smuggling cases had been filtered into the department +half a dozen times in as many months, and the matter finally got on the +chief's nerves to such a degree that he determined to thrash it out if +it took every man he had. + +In practically every case the procedure was the same--though the only +principals known were different each time. + +Rotterdam, for example, would report: "Pearl necklace valued at $40,000, +sold to-day to man named Silverburg. Have reason to believe it is +destined for States"--and then would follow a technical description of +the necklace. Anywhere from six weeks to three months later the necklace +would turn up in the possession of a jeweler who bore a shady +reputation. Sometimes the article wouldn't appear at all, which might +have been due to the fact that they weren't brought into this country or +that the receivers had altered them beyond recognition. However, the +European advices pointed to the latter supposition--which didn't soothe +the chief's nerves the least bit. + +Finally, along in the middle of the spring of nineteen thirteen, there +came a cable from Paris announcing the sale of the famous Yquem +emerald--a gorgeous stone that you couldn't help recognizing once you +got the description. The purchaser was reported to be an American named +Williamson. He paid cash for it, so his references and his antecedents +were not investigated at the time. + +Sure enough, it wasn't two months later when a report came in from +Chicago that a pork-made millionaire had added to his collection a stone +which tallied to the description of the Yquem emerald. + +"Shall we go after it from this end, Chief?" inquired one of the men on +the job in Washington. "We can make the man who bought it tell us where +he got it and then sweat the rest of the game out of the go-betweens." + +"Yes," snorted the chief, "and be laughed out of court on some +trumped-up story framed by a well-paid lawyer. Not a chance! I'm going +to land those birds and land 'em with the goods. We can't afford to take +any chances with this crowd. They've evidently got money and brains, a +combination that you've got to stay awake nights to beat. No--we'll nail +'em in New York just as they're bringing the stones in. + +"Send a wire to Gregory to get on the job at once and tell New York to +turn loose every man they've got--though they've been working on the +case long enough, Heaven knows!" + +The next morning when Gregory and his society manner strolled into the +customhouse in New York he found the place buzzing. Evidently the +instructions from Washington had been such as to make the entire force +fear for their jobs unless the smuggling combination was broken up +quickly. It didn't take Joe very long to get the details. They weren't +many and he immediately discarded the idea of possible collusion between +the buyers of the stones abroad. It looked to be a certainty on the face +of it, but, once you had discovered that, what good did it do you? It +wasn't possible to jail a man just because he bought some jewels in +Europe--and, besides, the orders from Washington were very clear that +the case was to be handled strictly from this side--at least, the final +arrest was to be made on American soil, to avoid extradition +complications and the like. + +So when Joe got all the facts they simply were that some valuable jewels +had been purchased in Europe and had turned up in America, without going +through the formality of visiting the customhouse, anywhere from six +weeks to three months later. + +"Not much to work on," grumbled Gregory, "and I suppose, as usual, that +the chief will be as peevish as Hades if we don't nab the guilty party +within the week." + +"It's more than possible," admitted one of the men who had handled the +case. + +Gregory studied the dates on which the jewels had been purchased and +those on which they had been located in this country for a few moments +in silence. Then: + +"Get me copies of the passenger lists of every steamer that has docked +here in the past year," he directed. "Of course it's possible that these +things might have been landed at Boston or Philadelphia, but New York's +the most likely port." + +When the lists had been secured Gregory stuffed them into his suit case +and started for the door. + +"Where you going?" inquired McMahon, the man in charge of the New York +office. + +"Up to the Adirondacks for a few days," Gregory replied. + +"What's the idea? Think the stuff is being brought over by airplane and +landed inland? Liners don't dock upstate, you know." + +"No," said Gregory, "but that's where I'm going to dock until I can +digest this stuff," and he tapped his suit case. "Somewhere in this +bunch of booklets there's a clue to this case and it's up to me to spot +it. Good-by." + +Five days later when he sauntered back into the New York office the suit +case was surprisingly light. Apparently every one of the passenger lists +had vanished. As a matter of fact, they had been boiled down to three +names which were carefully inscribed in Joe's notebook. + +"Did you pick up any jewels in the Catskills?" was the question that +greeted him when he entered. + +"Wasn't in the Catskills," he growled. "Went up to a camp in the +Adirondacks--colder'n blazes. Any more stuff turn up?" + +"No, but a wire came from Washington just after you left to watch out +for a hundred-thousand-dollar string of pearls sold at a private auction +in London last week to an American named--" + +"I don't care what _his_ name was," Gregory cut in. "What was the date +they were sold?" + +"The sixteenth." + +Gregory glanced at the calendar. + +"And to-day is the twenty-second," he mused. "What boats are due in the +next three days?" + +"The _Cretic_ docks this afternoon and the _Tasmania_ ought to get in +to-morrow. That'll be all until the end of the week." + +"Right!" snapped Gregory. "Don't let a soul off the _Cretic_ until I've +had a look at her passenger list. It's too late to go down the harbor +now, but not a person's to get off that ship until I've had a chance to +look 'em over. Also cable for a copy of the _Tasmania's_ passenger list. +Hurry it up!" + +Less than ten minutes after he had slipped on board the _Cretic_, +however, Gregory gave the signal which permitted the gangplank to be +lowered and the passengers to proceed as usual--except for the fact that +the luggage of everyone and the persons of not a few were searched with +more than the average carefulness. But not a trace of the pearls was +found, as Joe had anticipated. A careful inspection of the passenger +list and a few moments with the purser had convinced him that none of +his three suspects were on board. + +Shortly after he returned to the office, the list of the _Tasmania's_ +passengers began to come over the cables. Less than half a page had been +received when Gregory uttered a sudden exclamation, reached for his +notebook, compared a name in it with one which appeared on the cabled +report, and indulged in the luxury of a deep-throated chuckle. + +"Greg's got a nibble somewhere," commented one of the bystanders. + +"Yes," admitted his companion, "but landin' the fish is a different +matter. Whoever's on the other end of that line is a mighty cagy +individual." + +But, though he undoubtedly overheard the remark, Gregory didn't seem to +be the least bit worried. In fact, his hat was at a more rakish angle +than usual and his cane fairly whistled through the air as he wandered +up the Avenue half an hour later. + +The next the customs force heard of him was when he boarded the +quarantine boat the next morning, clambering on the liner a little later +with all the skill of a pilot. + +"You have a passenger on board by the name of Dodge," he informed the +purser, after he had shown his badge. "Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge. What do +you know about her?" + +"Not a thing in the world," said the purser, "except that she is a most +beautiful and apparently attractive woman. Crossed with us once +before--" + +"Twice," corrected Gregory. "Came over in January and went right back." + +"That's right," said the purser, "so she did. I'd forgotten that. But, +beyond that fact, there isn't anything that I can add." + +"Seem to be familiar with anyone on board?" + +"Not particularly. Mixes with the younger married set and I've noticed +her on deck with the Mortons quite frequently. Probably met them on her +return trip last winter. They were along then, if I remember rightly." + +"Thanks," said the customs operative. "You needn't mention anything +about my inquiries, of course," and he mixed with the throng of +newspaper reporters who were picking up news in various sections of the +big vessel. + +When the _Tasmania_ docked, Gregory was the first one off. + +"Search Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge to the skin," he directed the matron. +"Take down her hair, tap the heels of her shoes, and go through all the +usual stunts, but be as gentle as you can about it. Say that we've +received word that some uncut diamonds--not pearls, mind you--are +concealed on the _Tasmania_ and that orders have been given to go over +everybody thoroughly. Pass the word along the line to give out the same +information, so she won't be suspicious. I don't think you'll find +anything, but you never can tell." + +At that, Joe was right. The matron didn't locate a blessed thing out of +the way. Mrs. Dodge had brought in a few dutiable trinkets, but they +were all down on her declaration, and within the hour she was headed +uptown in a taxi, accompanied by a maid who had met her as she stepped +out of the customs office. + +Not far behind them trailed another taxi, top up and Gregory's eyes +glued to the window behind the chauffeur. + +The first machine finally drew up at the Astor, and Mrs. Dodge and the +maid went in, followed by a pile of luggage which had been searched +until it was a moral certainty that not a needle would have been +concealed in it. + +Gregory waited until they were out of sight and then followed. + +In answer to his inquiries at the desk he learned that Mrs. Dodge had +stopped at the hotel several times before and the house detective +assured him that there was nothing suspicious about her conduct. + +"How about the maid?" inquired Gregory. + +"Don't know a thing about her, either, except that she is the same one +she had before. Pretty little thing, too--though not as good-looking as +her mistress." + +For the next three days Joe hung around the hotel or followed the lady +from the _Tasmania_ wherever she went. Something in the back of his +head--call it intuition or a hunch or whatever you please, but it's the +feeling that a good operative gets when he's on the right trail--told +him that he was "warm," as the kids say. Appearances seemed to deny that +fact. Mrs. Dodge went only to the most natural places--a few visits to +the stores, a couple to fashionable modistes and milliners, and some +drives through the Park, always accompanied by her maid and always in +the most sedate and open manner. + +But on the evening of the third day the house detective tipped Joe off +that his prey was leaving in the morning. + +"Guess she's going back to Europe," reported the house man. "Gave orders +to have a taxi ready at nine and her trunks taken down to the docks +before them. Better get busy if you want to land her." + +"I'm not ready for that just yet," Gregory admitted with a scowl. + +When Mrs. Dodge's taxi drove off the following morning Joe wasn't far +away, and, acting on orders which he had delivered over the phone, no +less than half a dozen operatives watched the lady and the maid very +closely when they reached the dock. + +Not a thing came of it, however. Both of them went to the stateroom +which had been reserved and the maid remained to help with the unpacking +until the "All-ashore-that-'re-going-ashore" was bellowed through the +boat. Then she left and stood on the pier until the ship had cleared the +dock. + +"It beats me," muttered Gregory. "But I'm willing to gamble my job that +I'm right." And that night he wired to Washington to keep a close +lookout for the London pearls, adding that he felt certain they would +turn up before long. + +"In that case," muttered the chief at the other end of the wire, "why in +Heaven's name didn't he get them when they came in?" + +Sure enough, not a fortnight had passed before St. Louis reported that a +string of pearls, perfectly matched, answering to the description of the +missing jewels, had been offered for sale there through private +channels. + +The first reaction was a telegram to Gregory that fairly burned the +wires, short but to the point. "Either the man who smuggled that +necklace or your job in ten days," it read. + +And Gregory replied, "Give me three weeks and you'll have one or the +other." + +Meanwhile he had been far from inactive. Still playing his hunch that +Phyllis Dodge had something to do with the smuggling game, he had put in +time cultivating the only person on this side that appeared to know +her--the maid. + +It was far from a thankless task, for Alyce--she spelled it with a +"y"--was pretty and knew it. Furthermore, she appeared to be entirely +out of her element in a cheap room on Twenty-fourth Street. Most of the +time she spent in wandering up the Avenue, and it was there that Gregory +made her acquaintance--through the expedient of bumping her bag out of +her hands and restoring it with one of his courtly bows. The next minute +he was strolling alongside, remarking on the beauty of the weather. + +But, although he soon got to know Alyce well enough to take her to the +theater and to the cabarets, it didn't seem to get him anywhere. She was +perfectly frank about her position. Said she was a hair dresser by trade +and that she acted as lady's maid to a Mrs. Dodge, who spent the better +part of her time abroad. + +"In fact," she said, "Mrs. Dodge is only here three or four days every +two months or so." + +"And she pays you for your time in between?" + +"Oh yes," Alyce replied; "she's more than generous." + +"I should say she was," Gregory thought to himself--but he considered it +best to change the subject. + +During the days that followed, Joe exerted every ounce of his +personality in order to make the best possible impression. Posing as a +man who had made money in the West, he took Alyce everywhere and treated +her royally. Finally, when he considered the time ripe, he injected a +little love into the equation and hinted that he thought it was about +time to settle down and that he appeared to have found the proper person +to settle with. + +But there, for the first time, Alyce balked. She didn't refuse him, but +she stated in so many words that she had a place that suited her for the +time being, and that, until the fall, at least, she preferred to keep on +with it. + +"That suits me all right," declared Gregory. "Take your time about it. +Meanwhile we'll continue to be good friends and trail around together, +eh?" + +"Certainly," said Alyce, "er--that is--until Tuesday." + +"Tuesday?" inquired Joe. "What's coming off Tuesday?" + +"Mrs. Dodge will arrive on the _Atlantic_," was the reply, "and I'll +have to be with her for three days at least." + +"Three days--" commenced Gregory, and halted himself. It wasn't wise to +show too much interest. But that night he called the chief on long +distance and inquired if there had been any recent reports of suspicious +jewel sales abroad. "Yes," came the voice from Washington, "pearls +again. Loose ones, this time. And your three weeks' grace is up at noon +Saturday." The click that followed as the receiver hung up was finality +itself. + +The same procedure, altered in a few minor details, was followed when +Mrs. Dodge landed. Again she was searched to the skin; again her luggage +was gone over with microscopic care, and again nothing was found. + +This time she stayed at the Knickerbocker, but Alyce was with her as +usual. + +Deprived of his usual company and left to his own devices, Gregory took +a long walk up the Drive and tried to thrash out the problem. + +"Comes over on a different boat almost every trip," he thought, "so that +eliminates collusion with any of the crew. Doesn't stay at the same +hotel two times running, so there's nothing there. Has the same maid and +always returns--" + +Then it was that motorists on Riverside Drive were treated to the sight +of a young and extremely prepossessing man, dressed in the height of +fashion, throwing his hat in the air and uttering a yell that could be +heard for blocks. After which he disappeared hurriedly in the direction +of the nearest drug store. + +A hasty search through the phone book gave him the number he wanted--the +offices of the Black Star line. + +"Is Mr. MacPherson, the purser of the _Atlantic_, there?" he inquired. +Then: "Hello! Mr. MacPherson? This is Gregory, Customs Division. You +remember me, don't you? Worked on the Maitland diamond case with you two +years ago.... Wonder if you could tell me something I want to know--is +Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge booked to go back with you to-morrow?... She is? +What's the number of her stateroom? And--er--what was the number of the +room she had coming over?... I thank you." + +If the motorists whom Gregory had startled on the Drive had seen him +emerge from the phone booth they would have marveled at the look of keen +satisfaction and relief that was spread over his face. The cat that +swallowed the canary was tired of life, compared with Joe at that +moment. + +Next morning the Customs operatives were rather surprised to see Gregory +stroll down to the _Atlantic_ dock about ten o'clock. + +"Thought you were somewhere uptown on the chief's pet case," said one of +them. + +"So I was," answered Joe. "But that's practically cleaned up." + +With that he went aboard, and no one saw him until just before the +"All-ashore" call. Then he took up his place beside the gangplank, with +three other men placed near by in case of accident. + +"Follow my lead," he directed. "I'll speak to the girl. Two of you stick +here to make certain that she doesn't get away, and you, Bill, beat it +on board then and tell the captain that the boat's not to clear until we +give the word. We won't delay him more than ten minutes at the outside." + +When Alyce came down the gangplank a few minutes later, in the midst of +people who had been saying good-by to friends and relatives, she spotted +Joe waiting for her, and started to move hurriedly away. Gregory caught +up with her before she had gone a dozen feet. + +"Good morning, Alyce," he said. "Thought I'd come down to meet you. +What've you got in the bag there?" indicating her maid's handbag. + +"Not--not a thing," said the girl, flushing. Just then the matron joined +the party, as previously arranged, and Joe's tone took on its official +hardness. + +"Hurry up and search her! We don't want to keep the boat any longer than +we have to." + +Less than a minute later the matron thrust her head out of the door long +enough to report: "We found 'em--the pearls. She had 'em in the front of +her dress." + +Gregory was up the gangplank in a single bound. A moment later he was +knocking at the door of Mrs. Dodge's stateroom. The instant the knob +turned he was inside, informing Phyllis that she was under arrest on a +charge of bringing jewels into the United States without the formality +of paying duty. Of course, the lady protested--but the _Atlantic_ +sailed, less than ten minutes behind schedule time, without her. + +Promptly at twelve the phone on the desk of the chief of the Customs +Division in Washington buzzed noisily. + +"Gregory speaking," came through the receiver. "My time's up--and I've +got the party you want. Claims to be from Cleveland and sails under the +name of Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge--first name Phyllis. She's confessed and +promises to turn state's evidence if we'll go light with her." + + * * * * * + +"That," added Quinn, "was the finish of Mrs. Dodge, so far as the +government was concerned. In order to land the whole crew--the people +who were handling the stuff on this side as well as the ones who were +mixed up in the scheme abroad--they let her go scot-free, with the +proviso that she's to be rushed to Atlanta if she ever pokes her nose +into the United States again. The last I heard of her she was in Monaco, +tangled up in a blackmail case there. + +"Gregory told me all about it sometime later. Said that the first hunch +had come to him when he studied the passengers' lists in the wilds of +the Adirondacks. Went there to be alone and concentrate. He found that +of all the people listed, only three--two men and a Mrs. Dodge--had made +the trip frequently in the past six months. The frequency of Mrs. +Dodge's travel evidently made it impracticable for her to use different +aliases. Some one would be sure to spot her. + +"But it wasn't until that night on Riverside Drive that the significance +of the data struck him. Each time she took the same boat on which she +had come over! Did she have the same stateroom? The phone call to +MacPherson established the fact that she did--this time at least. The +rest was almost as obvious as the original plan. The jewels were brought +aboard, passed on to Phyllis, and she tucked them away somewhere in her +stateroom. Her bags and her person could, of course, be searched with +perfect safety. Then, what was more natural than that her maid should +accompany her on board when she was leaving? Nobody ever pays any +attention to people who board the boat at _this_ end, so Alyce was able +to walk off with the stuff under the very eyes of the customs +authorities--and they found later that she had the nerve to place it in +the hands of the government for the next twenty-four hours. She sent it +by registered mail to Pittsburgh and it was passed along through an +underground "fence" channel until a prospective purchaser appeared. + +"Perfectly obvious and perfectly simple--that's why the plan succeeded +until Gregory began to make love to Alyce and got the idea that Mrs. +Dodge was going right back to Europe hammered into his head. It had +occurred to him before, but he hadn't placed much value on it.... + +"O-o-o-o!" yawned Quinn. "I'm getting dry. Trot out some grape juice and +put on that Kreisler record--'Drigo's Serenade.' I love to hear it. +Makes me think of the time when they landed that scoundrel Weimar." + + + + +VI + +A MATTER OF RECORD + + +"What was that you mentioned last week--something about the record of +Kreisler's 'Drigo's Serenade' reminding you of the capture of some one?" +I asked Bill Quinn one summer evening as he painfully hoisted his game +leg upon the porch railing. + +"Sure it does," replied Quinn. "Never fails. Put it on again so I can +get the necessary atmosphere, as you writers call it, and possibly I'll +spill the yarn--provided you guarantee to keep the ginger ale flowing +freely. That and olive oil are about the only throat lubricants left +us." + +So I slipped on the record, rustled a couple of bottles from the ice +box, and settled back comfortably, for when Quinn once started on one of +his reminiscences of government detective work he didn't like to be +interrupted. + +"That's the piece, all right," Bill remarked, as the strains of the +violin drifted off into the night. "Funny how a few notes of music like +that could nail a criminal while at the same time it was saving the +lives of nobody knows how many other people--" + + * * * * * + +Remember Paul Weimar [continued Quinn, picking up the thread of his +story]. He was the most dangerous of the entire gang that helped von +Bernstorff, von Papen, and the rest of that crew plot against the United +States at a time when we were supposed to be entirely neutral. + +An Austrian by birth, Weimar was as thoroughly a Hun at heart as anyone +who ever served the Hohenzollerns and, in spite of his size, he was as +slippery as they make 'em. Back in the past somewhere he had been a +detective in the service of the Atlas Line, but for some years before +the war was superintendent of the police attached to the +Hamburg-American boats. That, of course, gave him the inside track in +every bit of deviltry he wanted to be mixed up in, for he had made it +his business to cultivate the acquaintance of wharf rats, dive keepers, +and all the rest of the scum of the Seven Seas that haunts the docks. + +Standing well over six feet, Weimar had a pair of fists that came in +mighty handy in a scuffle, and a tongue that could curl itself around +all the blasphemies of a dozen languages. There wasn't a water front +where they didn't hate him--neither was there a water front where they +didn't fear him. + +Of course, when the war broke in August, 1914, the Hamburg-American line +didn't have any further official use for Weimar. Their ships were tied +up in neutral or home ports and Herr Paul was out of a job--for at least +ten minutes. But he was entirely too valuable a man for the German +organization to overlook for longer than that, and von Papen, in +Washington, immediately added him to his organization--with blanket +instructions to go the limit on any dirty work he cared to undertake. +Later, he worked for von Bernstorff; Doctor Dumba, the Austrian +ambassador; and Doctor von Nuber, the Austrian consul in New York--but +von Papen had first claim upon his services and did not hesitate to +press them, as proven by certain entries in the checkbook of the +military attache during the spring and summer of 1915. + +Of course, it didn't take the Secret Service and the men from the +Department of Justice very long to get on to the fact that Weimar was +altogether too close to the German embassy for the safety and comfort of +the United States government. But what were they to do about it? We +weren't at war then and you couldn't arrest a man merely because he +happened to know von Papen and the rest of his precious companions. You +had to have something on him--something that would stand up in +court--and Paul Weimar was too almighty clever to let that happen. + +When you remember that it took precisely one year to land this +Austrian--one year of constant watching and unceasing espionage--you +will see how well he conducted himself. + +And the government's sleuths weren't the only ones who were after him, +either. + +Captain Kenney, of the New York Police Force, lent mighty efficient aid +and actually invented a new system of trailing in order to find out just +what he was up to. + +In the old days, you told a man to go out and follow a suspect and that +was all there was to it. The "shadow" would trail along half a block or +so in the rear, keeping his man always in view, and bring home a full +account of what he had done all day. But you couldn't do that with +Weimar--he was too foxy. From what some of the boys have told me, I +think he took a positive delight in throwing them off the scent, whether +he had anything up his sleeve or not. + +One day, for example, you could have seen his big bulk swinging +nonchalantly up Broadway, as if he didn't have a care in the world. A +hundred feet or more behind him was Bob Dugan, one of Kenney's men. When +Weimar disappeared into the Subway station at Times Square, Dugan was +right behind him, and when the Austrian boarded the local for Grand +Central Station, Dugan was on the same train--on the same car, in fact. +But when they reached the station, things began to happen. Weimar left +the local and commenced to stroll up and down the platform, waiting +until a local train and an express arrived at the same time. That was +his opportunity. He made a step or two forward, as if to board the +express, and Dugan--not wishing to make himself too conspicuous--slipped +on board just as the doors were closing, only to see Weimar push back +and jam his way on the local! + +Variations of that stunt occurred time after time. Even the detailing of +two men to follow him failed in its purpose, for the Austrian would +enter a big office building, leap into an express elevator just as it +was about to ascend, slip the operator a dollar to stop at one of the +lower floors, and be lost for the day or until some one picked him up by +accident. + +So Cap Kenney called in four of his best men and told them that it was +essential that Weimar be watched. + +"Two of you," he directed, "stick with him all the time. Suppose you +locate him the first thing in the morning at his house on Twenty-fourth +Street, for example. You, Cottrell, station yourself two blocks up the +street. Gary, you go the same distance down. Then, no matter which way +he starts he'll have one of you in front of him and one behind. The man +in front will have to use his wits to guess which way he intends to go +and to beat him to it. If he boards a car, the man in front can pick him +up with the certainty that the other will cover the trail in the rear. +In that way you ought to be able to find out where he is going and, +possibly, what he is doing there." + +The scheme, thanks to the quick thinking of the men assigned to the job, +worked splendidly for months--at least it worked in so far as keeping a +watch on Weimar was concerned. But that was all. In the summer of 1915 +the government knew precisely where Weimar had been for the past six +months, with whom he had talked, and so on--but the kernel of the nut +was missing. There wasn't the least clue to what he had talked about and +what deviltry he had planned! + +Without that information, all the dope the government had was about as +useful as a movie to a blind man. + +Washington was so certain that Weimar had the key to a number of very +important developments--among them the first attempt to blow up the +Welland Canal--that the chief of the Secret Service made a special trip +to New York to talk to Kenney. + +"Isn't it possible," he suggested, "to plant your men close enough to +Weimar to find out, for example, what he talks about over the phone?" + +Kenney smiled, grimly. + +"Chief," he said, "that's been done. We've tapped every phone that +Weimar's likely to use in the neighborhood of his house and every time +he talks from a public station one of our men cuts in from near-by--by +an arrangement with Central--and gets every word. But that bird is too +wary to be caught with chaff of that kind. He's evidently worked out a +verbal code of some kind that changes every day. He tells the man at the +other end, for example, to be at the drug store on the corner of +Seventy-third and Broadway at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon and wait +for a phone call in the name of Williams. Our man is always at the place +at the appointed hour, but no call ever arrives. 'Seventy-third and +Broadway' very evidently means some other address, but it's useless to +try and guess which one. You'd have to have a man at every pay station +in town to follow that lead." + +"How about overhearing his directions to the men he meets in the open?" + +"Not a chance in the world. His rendezvous are always public places--the +Pennsylvania or Grand Central Station, a movie theater, a hotel lobby, +or the like. There he can put his back against the wall and make sure +that no one is listening in. He's on to all the tricks of the trade and +it will take a mighty clever man--or a bunch of them--to nail him." + +"H-m-m!" mused the chief. "Well, at that, I believe I've got the man." + +"Anyone I know?" + +"Yes, I think you do--Morton Maxwell. Remember him? Worked on the +Castleman diamond case here a couple of years ago for the customs people +and was also responsible for uncovering the men behind the sugar-tax +fraud. He isn't in the Service, but he's working for the Department of +Justice, and I'm certain they'll turn him loose on this if I ask them +to. Maxwell can get to the bottom of Weimar's business, if anyone can. +Let me talk to Washington--" + +And within an hour after the chief had hung up the receiver Morton +Maxwell, better known as "Mort," was headed toward New York with +instructions to report at Secret Service headquarters in that city. + +Once there, the chief and Kenney went over the whole affair with him. +Cottrell and Gary and the other men who had been engaged in shadowing +the elusive Weimar were called in to tell their part of the story, and +every card was laid upon the table. + +When the conference concluded, sometime after midnight, the chief turned +to Maxwell and inquired: + +"Well, what's your idea about it?" + +For a full minute Mort smoked on in silence and gazed off into space. +Men who had just met him were apt to think this a pose, a play to the +grand stand--but those who knew him best realized that Maxwell's alert +mind was working fastest in such moments and that he much preferred not +to make any decision until he had turned things over in his head. + +"There's just one point which doesn't appear to have been covered," he +replied. Then, as Kenney started to cut in, "No, Chief, I said +_appeared_ not to have been covered. Very possibly you have all the +information on it and forgot to hand it out. Who does this Weimar live +with?" + +"He lives by himself in a house on Twenty-fourth Street, near Seventh +Avenue--boards there, but has the entire second floor. So far as we've +been able to find out he has never been married. No trace of any wife on +this side, anyhow. Never travels with women--probably afraid they'd talk +too much." + +"Has he any relatives?" + +"None that I know of--" + +"Wait a minute," Cottrell interrupted. "I dug back into Weimar's record +before the war ended his official connection with the steamship company, +and one of the points I picked up was that he had a cousin--a man named +George Buch--formerly employed on one of the boats. + +"Where is Buch now?" asked Maxwell. + +"We haven't been able to locate him," admitted the police detective. +"Not that we've tried very hard, because the trail didn't lead in his +direction. I don't even know that he is in this country, but it's likely +that he is because he was on one of the boats that was interned here +when the war broke." + +Again it was a full minute before Maxwell spoke. + +"Buch," he said, finally, "appears to be the only link between Weimar +and the outer world. It's barely possible that he knows something, and, +as we can't afford to overlook any clue, suppose we start work along +that line. I'll dig into it myself the first thing in the morning, and I +certainly would appreciate any assistance that your men could give me, +Chief. Tell them to make discreet inquiries about Buch, his appearance, +habits, etc., and to try and find out whether he is on this side. Now +I'm going to turn in, for something seems to tell me that the busy +season has arrived." + +At that Maxwell wasn't far wrong. The weeks that followed were well +filled with work, but it was entirely unproductive of results. Weimar +was shadowed day and night, his telephones tapped and his mail examined. +But, save for the fact that his connection with the German embassy +became increasingly apparent, no further evidence was forthcoming. + +The search for Buch was evidently futile, for that personage appeared to +have disappeared from the face of the earth. All that Maxwell and the +other men who worked on the matter could discover was that Buch--a young +Austrian whose description they secured--had formerly been an intimate +of Weimar. The latter had obtained his appointment to a minor office in +the Hamburg-American line and Buch was commonly supposed to be a stool +pigeon for the master plotter. + +But right there the trail stopped. + +No one appeared to know whether the Austrian was in New York, or the +United States, for that matter, though one informant did admit that it +was quite probable. + +"Buch and the big fellow had a row the last time over," was the +information Maxwell secured at the cost of a few drinks. "Something +about some money that Weimar is supposed to have owed him--fifteen +dollars or some such amount. I didn't hear about it until afterward, but +it appears to have been a pretty lively scrap while it lasted. Of +course, Buch didn't have a chance against the big fellow--he could +handle a bull. But the young Austrian threatened to tip his hand--said +he knew a lot of stuff that would be worth a good deal more money than +was coming to him, and all that sort of thing. But the ship docked the +next day and I haven't seen or heard of him since." + +The idea of foul play at once leaped into Maxwell's mind, but +investigation of police records failed to disclose the discovery of +anybody answering to the description of George Buch and, as Captain +Kenney pointed out, it is a decidedly difficult matter to dispose of a +corpse in such a way as not to arouse at least the suspicions of the +police. + +As a last resort, about the middle of September, Maxwell had a reward +posted on the bulletin board of every police station in New York and the +surrounding country for the "apprehension of George Buch, Austrian, age +about twenty-four. Height, five feet eight inches. Hair, blond. +Complexion, fair. Eyes, blue. Sandy mustache." + +As Captain Kenney pointed out, though, the description would apply to +several thousand men of German parentage in the city, and to a good many +more who didn't have a drop of Teutonic blood in their veins. + +"True enough," Maxwell was forced to admit, "but we can't afford to +overlook a bet--even if it is a thousand-to-one shot." + +As luck would have it, the thousand-to-one shot won! + +On September 25, 1917, Detective Gary returned to headquarters, +distinctly crestfallen. Weimar had given him the slip. + +In company with another man, whom the detective did not know, the +Austrian had been walking up Sixth Avenue that afternoon when a machine +swung in from Thirty-sixth Street and the Austrian had leaped aboard +without waiting for it to come to a full stop. + +"Of course, there wasn't a taxi in sight," said Gary, ruefully, "and +before I could convince the nearest chauffeur that my badge wasn't phony +they'd gone!" + +"That's the first time in months," Gary replied. "He knows that he's +followed, all right, and he's cagy enough to keep in the open and +pretend to be aboveboard." + +"Right," commented the Department of Justice operative, "and this move +would appear to indicate that something was doing. Better phone all your +stations to watch out for him, Cap." + +But nothing more was seen or heard of Herr Weimar for five days. + +Meanwhile events moved rapidly for Maxwell. + +On September 26th, the day after the Austrian disappeared, one of the +policemen whose beat lay along Fourteenth Street, near Third Avenue, +asked to see the government detective. + +"My name's Riley," announced the copper, with a brogue as broad as the +toes of his shoes. "Does this Austrian, this here Buch feller ye're +lookin' for, like music? Is he nuts about it?" + +"Music?" echoed Maxwell. "I'm sure I don't know.... But wait a minute! +Yes, that's what that chap who used to know him on the boat told me. +Saying he was forever playing a fiddle when he was off duty and that +Weimar threw it overboard one day in a fit of rage. Why? What's the +connection?" + +"Nothin' in particular, save that a little girl I'm rather sweet on +wurruks in a music store on Fourteenth Street an' she an' I was talkin' +things over last night an' I happened to mintion th' reward offered for +this Buch feller. 'Why!' says she, 'that sounds just like the Dutchy +that used to come into th' shop a whole lot a year or so ago. He was +crazy about music an' kep' himself pretty nigh broke a-buyin' those +expensive new records. Got me to save him every violin one that came +out.'" + +"Um, yes," muttered Maxwell, "but has the young lady seen anything of +this chap lately?" + +"That she has not," Riley replied, "an' right there's th' big idear. +Once a week, regular, another Dutchman comes in an' buys a record, an' +he told Katy--that's me gurrul's name--last winter that th' selections +were for a man that used to be a stiddy customer of hers but who was now +laid up in bed." + +"In bed for over a year!" exclaimed Maxwell, his face lighting up. "Held +prisoner somewhere in the neighborhood of that shop on Fourteenth +Street, because the big Austrian hasn't the nerve to make away with him +and yet fears that he knows too much! Look here, Riley--suppose you and +Miss Katy take a few nights off--I'll substitute for her and make it all +right with the man who owns the store. Then I can get a line on this +buyer of records for sick men." + +"Wouldn't it be better, sir, if we hung around outside th' store an' let +Katy give us the high sign when he come in? Then we could both trail him +back to where he lives." + +"You're right, Riley, it would! Where'll I meet you to-night?" + +"At the corner of Fourteenth Street and Thoid Av'nue, at eight o'clock. +Katy says th' man never gets there before nine." + +"I'll be there," said Maxwell--and he was. + +But nothing out of the ordinary rewarded their vigil the first night, +nor the second. On the third night, however, just after the clock in the +Metropolitan Tower had boomed nine times, a rather nondescript +individual sauntered into the music store, and Riley's quick eyes saw +the girl behind the counter put her left hand to her chest. Then she +coughed. + +"That's th' signal, sir," warned the policeman in a whisper. "An' that's +the guy we're after." + +Had the man turned around as he made his way toward a dark and +forbidding house on Thirteenth Street, not far from Fourth Avenue, he +might have caught sight of two shadows skulking along not fifty feet +behind him. But, at that, he would have to have been pretty quick--for +Maxwell was taking no chances on losing his prey and he had cautioned +the policeman not to make a sound. + +When their quarry ascended the steps of No. 247 Riley started to move +after him, but the Department of Justice operative halted him. + +"There's no hurry," stated Maxwell. "He doesn't suspect we're here, and, +besides, it doesn't make any difference if he does lock the door--I've +got a skeleton key handy that's guaranteed to open anything." + +Riley grunted, but stayed where he was until Maxwell gave the signal to +advance. + +Once inside the door, which responded to a single turn to the key, the +policeman and the government agent halted in the pitch-black darkness +and listened. Then from an upper floor came the sound for which Maxwell +had been waiting--the first golden notes of a violin played by a master +hand. The distance and the closed doorway which intervened killed all +the harsh mechanical tone of the phonograph and only the wonderful +melody of "Drigo's Serenade" came down to them. + +On tiptoe, though they knew their movements would be masked by the +sounds of the music, Riley and Maxwell crept up to the third floor and +halted outside the door from which the sounds came. + +"Wait until the record is over," directed Maxwell, "and then break down +that door. Have your gun handy and don't hesitate to shoot anyone who +tries to injure Buch. I'm certain he's held prisoner here and it may be +that the men who are guarding him have instructions not to let him +escape at any cost. Ready? Let's go!" + +The final note of the Kreisler record had not died away before Riley's +shoulder hit the flimsy door and the two detectives were in the room. + +Maxwell barely had time to catch a glimpse of a pale, wan figure on the +bed and to sense the fact that there were two other men in the room, +when there was a shout from Riley and a spurt of flame from his +revolver. With a cry, the man nearest the bed dropped his arm and a +pistol clattered to the floor--the barrel still singing from the impact +of the policeman's bullet. The second man, realizing that time was +precious, leaped straight toward Maxwell, his fingers reaching for the +agent's throat. With a half laugh Mort clubbed his automatic and brought +the butt down with sickening force on his assailant's head. Then he +swung around and covered the man whom Riley had disarmed. + +"Don't worry about him, sir," said the policeman. "His arm'll be numb +half an hour from now. What do you want to do with th' lad in th' bed?" + +"Get him out of here as quickly as we can. We won't bother with these +swine. They have the law on their side, anyway, because we broke in here +without a warrant. I only want Buch." + +When he had propped the young Austrian up in a comfortable chair in the +Federal Building and had given him a glass of brandy to strengthen his +nerves--the Lord only knows that they'll have to do in the +future--Maxwell got the whole story and more than he had dared hoped +for. Buch, following his quarrel with Weimar, had been held prisoner in +the house on Thirteenth Street for over a year because, as Maxwell had +figured, the Austrian didn't have the nerve to kill him and didn't dare +let him loose. Barely enough food was allowed to keep him alive, and the +only weakness that his cousin had shown was in permitting the purchase +of one phonograph record a week in order to cheer him up a little. + +"Naturally," said Buch, "I chose the Kreisler records, because he's an +Austrian and a marvelous violinist." + +"Did Weimar ever come to see you?" inquired Maxwell. + +"He came in every now and then to taunt me and to say that he was going +to have me thrown in the river some day soon. That didn't frighten me, +but there were other things that did. He came in last week, for example, +and boasted that he was going to blow up a big canal and I was afraid he +might be caught or killed. That would have meant no more money for the +men who were guarding me and I was too weak to walk even to the window +to call for help...." + +"A big canal!" Maxwell repeated. "He couldn't mean the Panama! No, +that's impossible. I have it! The Welland Canal!" And in an instant he +was calling the Niagara police on the long-distance phone, giving a +detailed description of Weimar and his companions. + + * * * * * + +"As it turned out," concluded Quinn, reaching for his empty glass, +"Weimar had already been looking over the ground. He was arrested, +however, before the dynamite could be planted, and, thanks to Buch's +evidence, indicted for violation of Section Thirteen of the Penal Code. + +"Thus did a phonograph record and thirty pieces of silver--the thirty +half-dollars that Weimar owed Buch--lead directly to the arrest of one +of the most dangerous spies in the German service. Let's have Mr. +Drigo's Serenade once more and pledge Mort Maxwell's health in ginger +ale--unless you have a still concealed around the house. And if you have +I will be in duty bound to tell Jimmy Reynolds about it--he's the lad +that holds the record for persistency and cleverness in discovering +moonshiners." + + + + +VII + +THE SECRET STILL + + +"July 1, 1919," said Bill Quinn, as he appropriately reached for a +bottle containing a very soft drink, "by no means marked the beginning +of the government's troubles in connection with the illicit manufacture +of liquor. + +"Of course, there's been a whole lot in the papers since the Thirst of +July about people having private stills in their cellars, making drinks +with a kick out of grape juice and a piece of yeast, and all that sort +of thing. One concern in Pittsburgh, I understand, has also noted a +tremendous and absolutely abnormal increase in the demand for its +hot-water heating plants--the copper coils of which make an ideal +substitute for a still--but I doubt very much if there's going to be a +real movement in the direction of the private manufacture of alcoholic +beverages. The Internal Revenue Department is too infernally watchful +and its agents too efficient for much of that to get by. + +"When you get right down to it, there's no section in the country where +the art of making 'licker' flourishes to such an extent as it does in +eastern Tennessee and western North Carolina. Moonshine there is not +only a recognized article of trade, but its manufacture is looked upon +as an inalienable right. It's tough sledding for any revenue officer who +isn't mighty quick on the trigger, and even then--as Jimmy Reynolds +discovered a few years back--they're likely to get him unless he mixes +brains with his shooting ability." + + * * * * * + +Reynolds [continued Quinn, easing his injured leg into a more +comfortable position] was as valuable a man as any whose name ever +appeared in the Government Blue Book. He's left the bureau now and +settled down to a life of comparative ease as assistant district +attorney of some middle Western city. I've forgotten which one, but +there was a good reason for his not caring to remain in the East. The +climate west of the Mississippi is far more healthy for Jimmy these +days. + +At the time of the Stiles case Jim was about twenty-nine, straight as an +arrow, and with a bulldog tenacity that just wouldn't permit of his +letting go of a problem until the solution was filed in the official +pigeonholes which answer to the names of archives. It was this trait +which led Chambers, then Commissioner of Internal Revenue, to send for +him, after receipt of a message that two of his best men--Douglas and +Wood, I think their names were--had been brought back to Maymead, +Tennessee, with bullet holes neatly drilled through their hearts. + +"Jim," said the Commissioner, "this case has gone just far enough. It's +one thing for the mountaineers of Tennessee to make moonshine whisky and +defy the laws of the United States. But when they deliberately murder +two of my best men and pin a rudely scribbled note to 'Bewair of this +country' on the front of their shirts, that's going entirely too far. +I'm going to clean out that nest of illicit stills if it takes the rest +of my natural life and every man in the bureau! + +"More than that, I'll demand help from the War Department, if necessary! +By Gad! I'll teach 'em!" and the inkwell on the Commissioner's desk +leaped into the air as Chambers's fist registered determination. + +Reynolds reached for a fresh cigar from the supply that always reposed +in the upper drawer of the Commissioner's desk and waited until it was +well lighted before he replied. + +"All well and good, Chief," he commented, "but how would the army help +you any? You could turn fifty thousand men in uniform loose in those +mountains, and the odds are they wouldn't locate the bunch you're after. +Fire isn't the weapon to fight those mountaineers with. They're too +wise. What you need is brains." + +"Possibly you can supply that deficiency," retorted the Commissioner, a +little nettled. + +"Oh, I didn't mean that you, personally, needed the brains," laughed +Reynolds. "The pronoun was used figuratively and collectively. At that, +I would like to have a whirl at the case if you've nothing better for me +to do--" + +"There isn't anything better for anyone to do at the present time," +Chambers interrupted. "That's why I sent for you. We know that whisky is +being privately distilled in large quantities somewhere in the mountains +not far from Maymead. Right there our information ends. Our men have +tried all sorts of dodges to land the crowd behind the stills, but the +only thing they've been able to learn is that a man named Stiles is one +of the ruling spirits. His cabin is well up in the mountains and it was +while they were prospecting round that part of the country that Douglas +and Wood were shot. Now what's your idea of handling the case?" + +"The first thing that I want, Chief, is to be allowed to work on this +absolutely alone, and that not a soul, in bureau or out of it is to know +what I'm doing." + +"Easy enough to arrange that," assented the Commissioner, "but--" + +"There isn't any 'but,'" Reynolds cut in. "You've tried putting a number +of men to work on this and they've failed. Now try letting one handle +it. For the past two years I've had a plan in the back of my head that +I've been waiting the right opportunity to use. So far as I can see it's +foolproof and I'm willing to take all the responsibility in connection +with it." + +"Care to outline it?" inquired Chambers. + +"Not right at the moment," was Reynolds's reply, "because it would seem +too wild and scatterbrained. I don't mind telling you, though, that for +the next six weeks my address will be in care of the warden of the +penitentiary of Morgantown, West Virginia, if you wish to reach me." + +"Morgantown?" echoed the Commissioner. "What in Heaven's name are you +going to do there?" + +"Lay the stage setting for the first act," smiled Jimmy. "Likewise +collect what authors refer to as local color--material that's essential +to what I trust will be the happy ending of this drama--happy, at least, +from the government's point of view. But, while you know that I'm at +Morgantown, I don't want anyone else to know it and I'd much prefer that +you didn't communicate with me there unless it's absolutely necessary." + +"All right, I won't. You're handling the case from now on." + +"Alone?" + +"Entirely--if you wish it." + +"Yes, Chief, I do wish it. I can promise you one of two things within +the next three months: either you'll have all the evidence you want +about the secret still and the men behind it or--well, you know where to +ship my remains!" + +With that and a quick handshake he was gone. + +During the weeks that followed, people repeatedly asked the +Commissioner: + +"What's become of Jimmy Reynolds? Haven't seen him round here for a +month of Sundays." + +But the Commissioner would assume an air of blank ignorance, mutter +something about, "He's out of town somewhere," and rapidly change the +subject. + +About six weeks or so later a buzzard which was flapping its lazy way +across the mountains which divide Tennessee from North Carolina saw, far +below, a strange sight. A man, haggard and forlorn, his face covered +with a half-inch of stubble, his cheeks sunken, his clothing torn by +brambles and bleached by the sun and rain until it was almost impossible +to tell its original texture, stumbled along with his eyes fixed always +on the crest of a hill some distance off. It was as if he were making a +last desperate effort to reach his goal before the sun went down. + +Had the buzzard been so minded, his keen eyes might have noted the fact +that the man's clothes were marked by horizontal stripes, while his head +was covered with hair the same length all over, as if he had been shaved +recently and the unkempt thatch had sprouted during the last ten days. + +Painfully but persistently the man in convict's clothes pressed forward. +When the sun was a little more than halfway across the heavens he +glimpsed a cabin tucked away on the side of a mountain spur not far +away. At the sight he pressed forward with renewed vigor, but distances +are deceptive in that part of the country and it was not until nearly +dark that he managed to reach his destination. + +In fact, the Stiles family was just sitting down to what passes for +supper in that part of the world--fat bacon and corn bread, +mostly--when there was the sound of a man's footstep some fifty feet +away. + +Instantly the houn' dog rose from his accustomed place under the table +and crouched, ready to repel invaders. Old Man Stiles--his wife called +him Joe, but to the entire countryside he was just "Old Man +Stiles"--reached for his rifle with a muttered imprecation about +"Rev'nue officers who never let a body be." + +But the mountaineer had hardly risen from his seat when there was a +sound as of a heavy body falling against the door--and then silence. + +Stiles looked inquiringly at his wife and then at Ruth, their adopted +daughter. None of them spoke for an appreciable time, but the hound +continued to whine and finally backed off into a corner. + +"Guess I'll have to see what et is," drawled the master of the cabin, +holding his rifle ready for action. + +Slowly he moved toward the door and cautiously, very cautiously, he +lifted the bolt that secured it. Even if it were a revenue officer, he +argued to himself, his conscience was clear and his premises could stand +the formality of a search because, save for a certain spot known to +himself alone, there was nothing that could be considered incriminating. + +As the door swung back the body of a man fell into the room--a man whose +clothing was tattered and whose features were concealed under a week's +growth of stubbly beard. Right into the cabin he fell, for the door had +supported his body, and, once that support was removed, he lay as one +dead. + +In fact, it wasn't until at least five minutes had elapsed that Stiles +came to the conclusion that the intruder was really alive, after all. +During that time he had worked over him in the rough mountain fashion, +punching and pulling and manhandling him in an effort to secure some +sign of life. Finally the newcomer's eyes opened and he made an effort +to sit up. + +"Wait a minute, stranger," directed Stiles, motioning his wife toward a +closet in the corner of the room. Mrs. Stiles--or 'Ma,' as she was known +in that part of the country--understood the movement. Without a word she +opened the cupboard and took down a flask filled with a clear +golden-yellow liquid. Some of this she poured into a cracked cup on the +table and handed it to her husband. + +"Here," directed the mountaineer, "throw yo' haid back an' drink this. +Et's good fur what ails yer." + +The moment after he had followed instructions the stranger gulped, +gurgled, and gasped as the moonshine whisky burnt its way down his +throat. The man-sized drink, taken on a totally empty stomach, almost +nauseated him. Then it put new life in his veins and he tried to +struggle to his feet. + +Ruth Stiles was beside him in an instant and, with her father's help, +assisted him to a chair at the table. + +"Stranger," said Stiles, stepping aside and eying the intruder +critically, "I don't know who or what you are, but I do know that yo' +look plumb tuckered out. Nobody's goin' hungry in my house, so fall to +an' we'll discuss other matters later." + +Whereupon he laid his rifle in its accustomed place, motioned to his +wife and daughter to resume their places at the table, and dragged up +another chair for himself. + +Beyond a word or two of encouragement to eat all he wanted of the very +plain fare, none of the trio addressed the newcomer during the remainder +of the meal. All three of them had noted the almost-obliterated stripes +that encircled his clothing and their significance was unmistakable. +But Stiles himself was far from being convinced. He had heard too much +of the tricks of government agents to be misled by what might prove, +after all, only a clever disguise. + +Therefore, when the womenfolk had cleared away the supper things and the +two men had the room to themselves, the mountaineer offered his guest a +pipeful of tobacco and saw to it that he took a seat before the fire +where the light would play directly upon his features. Then he opened +fire. + +"Stranger," he inquired, "what might yo' name be?" + +"Patterson," said the other. "Jim Patterson." + +"Whar you come from?" + +"Charlestown first an' Morgantown second. Up for twelve years for +manslaughter--railroaded at that," was Patterson's laconic reply. + +"How'd you get away?" + +At that the convict laughed, but there was more of a snarl than humor in +his tone as he answered: "Climbed th' wall when th' guards weren't +lookin'. They took a coupla pot shots at me, but none of them came +within a mile. Then I beat it south, travelin' by night an' hidin' by +day. Stole what I could to eat, but this country ain't overly well +filled with farms. Hadn't had a bite for two days, 'cept some berries, +when I saw your cabin an' came up here." + +Stiles puffed away in silence for a moment. Then he rose, as if to fetch +something from the other side of the room. Once behind Patterson, +however, he reached forward and, seizing the stubble that covered his +face, yanked it as hard as he could. + +"What th'----?" yelled the convict, springing to his feet and +involuntarily raising his clenched hand. + +"Ca'm yo'self, stranger, ca'm yo'self," directed the mountaineer, with +a half smile. "Jes' wanted to see for myself ef that beard was real, +that's all. Thought you might be a rev'nue agent in disguise." + +"A rev'nue agent?" queried Patterson, and then as if the thought had +just struck him that he was in the heart of the moonshining district, he +added: "That's rich! Me, just out of th' pen an' you think I'm a bull. +That's great. Here"--reaching into the recesses of his frayed +shirt--"here's something that may convince you." + +And he handed over a tattered newspaper, more than a week old, and +pointed to an article on the first page. + +"There, read that!" + +"Ruth does all th' reading for this fam'ly," was Stiles's muttered +rejoinder. "Ruth! Oh, Ruth! Come here a minute an' read somethin' to yo' +pappy!" + +Patterson had not failed to note, during supper, that Ruth Stiles came +close to being a perfect specimen of a mountain flower, rough and +undeveloped, but with more than a trace of real beauty, both in her face +and figure. Standing in front of the fire, with its flickering light +casting a sort of halo around her, she was almost beautiful--despite her +homespun dress and shapeless shoes. + +Without a word the convict handed her the paper and indicated the +article he had pointed out a moment before. + +"Reward offered for convict's arrest," she read. "James Patterson, doing +time for murder, breaks out of Morgantown. Five hundred dollars for +capture. Prisoner scaled wall and escaped in face of guards' fire." Then +followed an account of the escape, the first of its kind in several +years. + +"Even if you can't read," said Patterson, "there's my picture under the +headline--the picture they took for the rogues' gallery," and he pointed +to a fairly distinct photograph which adorned the page. + +Stiles took the paper closer to the fire to secure a better look, +glanced keenly at the convict, and extended his hand. + +"Guess that's right, stranger," he admitted. "You're no rev'nue agent." + +Later in the evening, as she lay awake, thinking about the man who had +shattered the monotony of their mountain life, Ruth Stiles wondered if +Patterson had not given vent to what sounded suspiciously like a sigh of +relief at that moment. But she was too sleepy to give much thought to +it, and, besides, what if he had?... + +In the other half of the cabin, divided from the women's room only by a +curtain of discolored calico, slept Patterson and Stiles--the former +utterly exhausted by his travels, the latter resting with keen hair +trigger consciousness of danger always only a short distance away. +Nothing happened, however, to disturb the peace of the Stiles domicile. +Even the hound slept quietly until the rosy tint of the eastern sky +announced another day. + +After breakfast, at which the fat-back and corn bread were augmented by +a brownish liquid which passed for coffee, Stiles informed his guest +that he "reckoned he'd better stick close to th' house fer a few days," +as there was no telling whether somebody might not be on his trail. + +Patterson agreed that this was the proper course and put in his time +helping with the various chores, incidentally becoming a little better +acquainted with Ruth Stiles. That night he lay awake for several hours, +but nothing broke the stillness save a few indications of animal life +outside the cabin and the labored breathing of the mountaineer in the +bunk below him. + +For three nights nothing occurred. But on the fourth night, Saturday, +supper was served a little earlier than usual and Patterson noted just a +suspicion of something almost electrical in the air. He gave no +indication of what he had observed, however, and retired to his bunk in +the usual manner. After an hour or more had elapsed he heard Stiles slip +quietly off his mattress and a moment later there was the guarded +scratch of a match as a lantern was lighted. + +Suspecting what would follow, Patterson closed his eyes and continued +his deep, regular breathing. But he could sense the fact that the +lantern had been swung up to a level with his bunk and he could almost +feel the mountaineer's eyes as Stiles made certain that he was asleep. +Stifling an impulse to snore or do something to convince his host that +he wasn't awake, Patterson lay perfectly still until he heard the door +close. Then he raised himself guardedly on one elbow and attempted to +look through the window beside the bunk. But a freshly applied coat of +whitewash prevented that, so he had to content himself with listening. + +Late in the night--so late that it was almost morning--he heard the +sounds of men conversing in whispers outside the cabin, but he could +catch nothing beyond his own name. Soon Stiles re-entered the room, +slipped into bed, and was asleep instantly. + +So things went for nearly three weeks. The man who had escaped from +prison made himself very useful around the cabin, and, almost against +his will, found that he was falling a victim to the beauty and charm of +the mountain girl. + +"I mustn't do it," he told himself over and over again. "I can't let +myself! It's bad enough to come here and accept the old man's +hospitality, but the girl's a different proposition." + +It was Ruth herself who solved the riddle some three weeks after +Patterson's arrival. They were wandering through the woods together, +looking for sassafras roots, when she happened to mention that Stiles +was not her own father. + +"He's only my pappy," she said, "my adopted father. My real father was +killed when I was a little girl. Shot through the head because he had +threatened to tell where a still was hidden. He never did believe in +moonshining. Said it was as bad as stealin' from the government. So +somebody shot him and Ma Stiles took me in, 'cause she said she was +sorry for me even if my pa was crazy." + +"Do you believe that moonshining is right?" asked her companion. + +"Anything my pa believed was the truth," replied the girl, her eyes +flashing. "Everybody round these parts knows that Pappy Stiles helps run +the big still the rev'nue officers been lookin' for the past three +years. Two of 'em were shot not long ago, too--but that don't make it +right. 'Specially when my pa said it was wrong. What you smilin' at?" + +Patterson resisted an inclination to tell her that the smile was one of +relief and replied that he was just watching the antics of a chipmunk a +little way off. But that night he felt a thrill of joy as he lay, +listening as always, in his bunk. + +Things had been breaking rather fast of late. The midnight gatherings +had become more frequent and, convinced that he had nothing to fear from +his guest, Stiles was not as cautious as formerly. He seldom took the +trouble to see that the escaped prisoner was asleep and he had even been +known to leave the door unlatched as he went out into the night. + +That night, for example, was one of the nights that he was +careless--and, as usually happens, he paid dearly for it. + +Waiting until Stiles was well out of the house, Patterson slipped +silently out of his bunk in his stocking feet and, inch by inch, +reopened the door. Outside, the moon was shining rather brightly, but, +save for the retreating figure of the mountaineer--outlined by the +lantern he carried--there was nothing else to be seen. + +Very carefully Patterson followed, treading softly so as to avoid even +the chance cracking of a twig. Up the mountainside went Stiles and, some +fifty feet behind him, crouched the convict, his faded garments blending +perfectly with the underbrush. After half a mile or so of following a +rude path, Stiles suddenly disappeared from view--not as if he had +turned a corner, but suddenly, as if the earth had swallowed him. + +After a moment Patterson determined to investigate. When he reached the +spot where he had last seen Stiles he looked around and almost stumbled +against the key to the entire mystery. There in the side of the mountain +was an opening, the entrance to a natural cave, and propped against it +was a large wooden door, completely covered with vines. + +"Not a chance of finding it in the daytime unless you knew where it +was," thought the convict as he slipped silently into the cave. Less +than thirty feet farther was an abrupt turn, and, glancing round this, +Patterson saw what he had been hoping for--a crowd of at least a dozen +mountaineers gathered about a collection of small but extremely +efficient stills. Ranged in rows along the sides of the cave were scores +of kegs, the contents of which were obvious from the surroundings. + +Pausing only long enough to make certain of his bearings, the convict +returned to the cabin and, long before Stiles came back, was sound +asleep. + +It was precisely four weeks from the day when the buzzard noted the man +on the side of the mountain, when a sheriff's posse from another county, +accompanied by half a dozen revenue officers, rode clattering through +Maymead and on in the direction of the Stiles cabin. Before the +mountaineers had time to gather, the posse had surrounded the hill, +rifles ready for action. + +Stiles himself met them in front of his rude home and, in response to +his challenge as to what they wanted, the sheriff replied that he had +come for a prisoner who had escaped from Morgantown a month or so +before. Stiles was on the verge of declaring that he had never heard of +the man when, to his amazement, Patterson appeared from the woods and +surrendered. + +The instant the convict had gained the shelter of the government guns, +however, a startling change took place. He held a moment's whispered +conversation with one of the revenue officials and the latter slipped +him a spare revolver from his holster. Then--"Hands up!" ordered the +sheriff, and Stiles's hands shot above his head. + +Leaving three men to guard the cabin and keep watch over Old Man Stiles, +whose language was searing the shrubbery, the remainder of the posse +pushed up the mountain, directed by the pseudoconvict. It took them some +time to locate the door to the cave, but, once inside, they found all +the evidence they wanted--evidence not only directly indicative of +moonshining, but the two badges which had belonged to Douglas and Wood +and which the mountaineers had kept as souvenirs of the shooting, thus +unwittingly providing a firm foundation for the government's case in +court. + +The next morning, when Commissioner Chambers reached his office, he +found upon his desk a wire which read: + + Stiles gang rounded up without the firing of a single shot. + Direct evidence of complicity in Woods-Douglas murders. + Secret still is a secret no longer. + +The signature to the telegram was "James Reynolds, alias Jim Patterson." + +"Jim Patterson," mused the commissioner. "Where have I heard that +name.... Of course. He's the prisoner that broke out of Morgantown a +couple of months ago! Jimmy sure did lay the local color on thick!" + + * * * * * + +"But," I inquired, as Quinn paused, "don't you consider that rather a +dirty trick on Reynolds's part--worming himself into the confidence of +the mountaineers and then betraying them? Besides, what about the girl?" + +"Dirty trick!" snorted the former Secret Service agent. "Would you think +about ethics if some one had murdered two of the men you work next to in +the office? It was the same thing in this case. Jimmy knew that if he +didn't turn up that gang they'd probably account for a dozen of his +pals--to say nothing of violating the law every day they lived! What +else was there for him to do? + +"The girl? Oh, Reynolds married her. They sometimes do that, even in +real life, you know. As I said, they're living out in the Middle West, +for Ruth declared she never wanted to see a mountain again, and both of +them admitted that it wouldn't be healthy to stick around within walking +distance of Tennessee. That mountain crowd is a bad bunch to get r'iled, +and it must be 'most time for Stiles and his friends to get out of jail. + +"It's a funny thing the way these government cases work out. Here was +one that took nearly three months to solve, and the answer was the +direct result of hard work and careful planning--while the Trenton +taxicab tangle, for example, was just the opposite!" + + + + +VIII + +THE TAXICAB TANGLE + + +We'd been sitting on the front porch--Bill Quinn and I--discussing +things in general for about half an hour when the subject of +transportation cropped up and, as a collateral idea, my mind jumped to +taxicabs, for the reason that the former Secret Service operative had +promised to give me the details of a case which he referred to as "The +Trenton Taxicab Tangle." + +"Yes," he replied, reminiscently, when I reminded him of the +alliterative title and inquired to what it might refer, "that was one of +the branch cases which grew out of the von Ewald chase--you remember +Mary McNilless and the clue of Shelf Forty-five? Well, Dick Walters, the +man who landed von Ewald, wasn't the only government detective working +on that case in New York--not by some forty-five or fifty--and Mary +wasn't the only pretty woman mixed up in it, either. There was that girl +at the Rennoc switchboard.... + +"That's another story, though. What you want is the taxicab clue." + + * * * * * + +If you remember the incidents which led up to the von Ewald affair +[continued Quinn, as he settled comfortably back in his chair] you will +recall that the German was the slipperiest of slippery customers. When +Walters stumbled on his trail, through the quick wit of Mary McNilless, +there wasn't the slightest indication that there was such a man. He was +a myth, a bugaboo--elusive as the buzz of a mosquito around your ear. + +During the months they scoured New York in search for him, a number of +other cases developed. Some of these led to very interesting +conclusions, but the majority, as usual, flivvered into thin air. + +The men at headquarters, the very cream of the government services, +gathered from all parts of the country, were naturally unable to +separate the wheat from the chaff in advance. Night after night they +went out on wild-goose chases and sometimes they spent weeks in +following a promising lead--to find only blue sky and peaceful scenery +at the end of it. + +Alan Whitney, who had put in two or three years rounding up +counterfeiters for the Service, and who had been transferred to the +Postal Inspection Service at the time of those registered mail robberies +in the Middle West--only to be detailed to Secret Service work in +connection with the von Ewald case--was one of the bitterest opponents +of this forced inaction. + +"I don't mind trouble," Whitney would growl, "but I do hate this eternal +strain of racing around every time the bell goes off and then finding +that some bonehead pulled the alarm for the sheer joy of seeing the +engines come down the street. There ought to be a law against +irresponsible people sending in groundless 'tips'--just as there's a law +against scandal or libel or any other information that's not founded on +fact." + +But, just the same, Al would dig into every new clue with as much +interest and energy as the rest of the boys--for there's always the +thrill of thinking that the tip you're working on may be the right one +after all. + +Whitney was in the office one morning when the phone rang and the chief +answered it. + +"Yes," he heard the chief say, "this is the right place--but if your +information is really important I would suggest that you come down and +give it in person. Telephones are not the most reliable instruments in +the world." + +A pause followed and the chief's voice again: + +"Well, of course we are always very glad to receive information that +tends to throw any light on those matters, but I must confess that yours +sounds a little vague and far-fetched. Maybe the people in the taxi +merely wanted to find a quiet place to talk.... They got out and were +away for nearly two hours? Hum! Thanks very much. I'll send one of our +men over to talk to you about it, if you don't mind. What's the +address?" + +A moment or two later, after the chief had replaced the receiver, he +called out to Whitney and with a smile that he could barely conceal told +him to catch the next train to Trenton, where, at a certain address, he +would find a Miss Vera Norton, who possessed--or thought she +possessed--information which would be of value to the government in +running down the people responsible for recent bomb outrages and +munition-plant explosions. + +"What's the idea, Chief?" inquired Al. + +"This young lady--at least her voice sounded young over the phone--says +that she got home late from a party last night. She couldn't sleep +because she was all jazzed up from dancing or something, so she sat near +her window, which looks out upon a vacant lot on the corner. Along about +two o'clock a taxicab came putt-putting up the street, stopped at the +corner, and two men carrying black bags hopped out. The taxicab remained +there until nearly four o'clock--three-forty-eight, Miss Norton's watch +said--and then the two men came back, without the bags, jumped in, and +rolled off. That's all she knows, or, at least, all she told. + +"When she picked up the paper round eleven o'clock this mornin' the +first thing that caught her eye was the attempt to blow up the powder +plant 'bout two miles from the Norton home. One paragraph of the story +stated that fragments of a black bag had been picked up near the scene +of the explosion, which only wrecked one of the outhouses, and the young +lady leaped to the conclusion that her two night-owls were mixed up in +the affair. So she called up to tip us off and get her name in history. +Better run over and talk to her. There might be something to the +information, after all." + +"Yes, there _might_," muttered Whitney, "but it's getting so nowadays +that if you walk down the street with a purple tie on, when some one +thinks you ought to be wearing a green one, they want you arrested as a +spy. Confound these amateurs, anyhow! I'm a married man, Chief. Why +don't you send Giles or one of the bachelors on this?" + +"For just that reason," was the reply. "Giles or one of the others would +probably be impressed by the Norton's girl's blond hair--it must be +blond from the way she talked--and spend entirely too much time running +the whole thing to earth. Go on over and get back as soon as you can. We +can't afford to overlook anything these days--neither can we afford to +waste too much time on harvesting crops of goat feathers. Beat it!" + +And Whitney, still protesting, made his way to the tube and was lucky +enough to catch a Trenton train just about to pull out of the station. + +Miss Vera Norton, he found, was a blond--and an extremely pretty one, at +that. Moreover, she appeared to have more sense than the chief had given +her credit for. After Whitney had talked to her for a few minutes he +admitted to himself that it was just as well that Giles hadn't tackled +the case--he might never have come back to New York, and Trenton isn't a +big enough place for a Secret Service man to hide in safety, even when +lured by a pair of extremely attractive gray-blue eyes. + +Apart from her physical charms, however, Whitney was forced to the +conclusion that what she had seen was too sketchy to form anything that +could be termed a real clue. + +"No," she stated, in reply to a question as to whether she could +identify the men in the taxi, "it was too dark and too far off for me to +do that. The arc light on the corner, however, gave me the impression +that they were of medium height and rather thick set. Both of them were +dressed in dark suits of some kind and each carried a black leather bag. +That's what made me think that maybe they were mixed up in that +explosion last night." + +"What kind of bags were they?" + +"Gladstones, I believe you call them. Those bags that are flat on the +bottom and then slant upward and lock at the top." + +"How long was the taxi there?" + +"I don't know just when it did arrive, for I didn't look at my watch +then, but it left at twelve minutes to four. I was getting mighty +sleepy, but I determined to see how long it would stay in one place, for +it costs money to hire a car by the hour--even one of those +Green-and-White taxis." + +"Oh, it was a Green-and-White, eh?" + +"Yes, and I got the number, too," Miss Norton's voice fairly thrilled +with the enthusiasm of her detective ability. "After the men had gotten +out of the car I remembered that my opera glasses were on the bureau and +I used them to get a look at the machine. I couldn't see anything of the +chauffeur beyond the fact that he was hunched down on the front seat, +apparently asleep, and the men came back in such a hurry that I didn't +have time to get a good look at them through the glasses." + +"But the number," Whitney reminded her. + +"I've got it right here," was the reply, as the young lady dug down into +her handbag and drew out a card. "N. Y. four, three, three, five, six, +eight," she read. "I got that when the taxi turned around and headed +back--to New York, I suppose. But what on earth would two men want to +take a taxi from New York all the way to Trenton for? Why didn't they +come on the train?" + +"That, Miss Norton," explained Whitney, "is the point of your story that +makes the whole thing look rather suspicious. I will confess that when +the chief told me what you had said over the phone I didn't place much +faith in it. There might have been a thousand good reasons for men +allowing a local taxi to wait at the corner, but the very fact of its +bearing a New York number makes it a distinctly interesting incident." + +"Then you think that it may be a clue, after all?" + +"It's a clue, all right," replied the operative, "but what it's a clue +to I can't say until we dig farther into the matter. It is probable that +these two men had a date for a poker party or some kind of celebration, +missed the train in New York, and took a taxi over rather than be left +out of the party. But at the same time it's distinctly within the realms +of possibility that the men you saw were implicated in last night's +explosion. It'll take some time to get at the truth of the matter and, +meanwhile, might I ask you to keep this information to yourself?" + +"Indeed I shall!" was the reply. "I won't tell a soul, honestly." + +After that promise, Al left the Norton house and made his way across +town to where the munitions factory reared its hastily constructed head +against the sky. Row after row of flimsy buildings, roofed with tar +paper and giving no outward evidence of their sinister mission in +life--save for the high barbed-wire fence that inclosed them--formed the +entire plant, for there shells were not made, but loaded, and the +majority of the operations were by hand. + +When halted at the gate, Whitney found that even his badge was of no use +in securing entrance. Evidently made cautious by the events of the +preceding night, the guard refused to admit anyone, and even hesitated +about taking Al's card to the superintendent. The initials "U. S. S. S." +finally secured him admittance and such information as was available. + +This, however, consisted only of the fact that some one had cut the +barbed wire at an unguarded point and had placed a charge of explosive +close to one of the large buildings. The one selected was used +principally as a storehouse. Otherwise, as the superintendent indicated +by an expressive wave of his hand, "it would have been good night to the +whole place." + +"Evidently they didn't use a very heavy charge," he continued, "relying +upon the subsequent explosions from the shells inside to do the damage. +If they'd hit upon any other building there'd be nothing but a hole in +the ground now. As it is, the damage won't run over a few thousand +dollars." + +"Were the papers right in reporting that you picked some fragments of a +black bag not far from the scene of the explosion?" Whitney asked. + +"Yes, here they are," and the superintendent produced three pieces of +leather from a drawer in his desk. "Two pieces of the top and what is +evidently a piece of the side." + +Whitney laid them on the desk and examined them carefully for a few +moments. Then: + +"Notice anything funny about these?" he inquired. + +"No. What's the matter?" + +"Not a thing in the world, except that the bag must have had a very +peculiar lock." + +"What's that?" + +"Here--I'll show you," and Whitney tried to put the two pieces of metal +which formed the lock together. But, inasmuch as both of them were +slotted, they wouldn't join. + +"Damnation!" exclaimed the superintendent. "What do you make of that?" + +"That there were two bags instead of one," stated Whitney, calmly. +"Coupled with a little information which I ran into before I came over +here, it begins to look as if we might land the men responsible for this +job before they're many hours older." + +Ten minutes later he was on his way back to New York, not to report at +headquarters, but to conduct a few investigations at the headquarters of +the Green-and-White Taxicab Company. + +"Can you tell me," he inquired of the manager in charge, "just where +your taxi bearing the license number four, three, three, five, six, +eight was last night?" + +"I can't," said the manager, "but we'll get the chauffeur up here and +find out in short order. + +"Hello!" he called over an office phone. "Who has charge of our cab +bearing license number four, three, three, five, six, eight?... Murphy? +Is he in?... Send him up--I'd like to talk to him." + +A few moments later a beetle-jawed and none too cleanly specimen of the +genus taxi driver swaggered in and didn't even bother to remove his cap +before sitting down. + +"Murphy," said the Green-and-White manager, "where was your cab last +night?" + +"Well, let's see," commenced the chauffeur. "I took a couple to the +Amsterdam The-ayter in time for th' show an' then picked up a fare on +Broadway an' took him in the Hunnerd-an'-forties some place. Then I +cruised around till the after-theater crowd began to come up an'--an' I +got one more fare for Yonkers. Another long trip later on made it a +pretty good night." + +"Murphy," cut in Whitney, edging forward into the conversation, "where +and at just what hour of the night did those two Germans offer you a +hundred dollars for the use of your car all evening?" + +"They didn't offer me no hunnerd dollars," growled the chauffeur, "they +gave me...." Then he checked himself suddenly and added, in an +undertone, "I don't know nothin' 'bout no Goimans." + +"The hell you don't!" snarled Whitney, edging toward the door. "Back up +against that desk and keep your hands on top of it, or I'll pump holes +clean through you!" + +His right hand was in his coat pocket, the fingers closed around what +was very palpably the butt of an automatic. Murphy could see the outline +of the weapon and obeyed instructions, while Whitney slammed the door +with his left hand. + +"Now look here," he snapped, taking a step nearer to the taxi driver, "I +want the truth and I want it quick! Also, it's none of your business why +I want it! But you better come clean if you know what's good for you. +Out with it! Where did you meet 'em and where did you drive 'em?" + +Realizing that escape was cut off and thoroughly cowed by the display of +force, Murphy told the whole story--or as much of it as he knew. + +"I was drivin' down Broadway round Twenty-eig't Street last night, 'bout +ten o'clock," he confessed. "I'd taken that couple to the the-ayter, +just as I told you, an' that man up to Harlem. Then one of these t'ree +guys hailed me...." + +"Three?" interrupted Whitney. + +"That's what I said--t'ree! They said they wanted to borrow my machine +until six o'clock in th' mornin' an' would give me two hunnerd dollars +for it. I told 'em there was nothin' doin' an' they offered me +two-fifty, swearin' that they'd have it back at th' same corner at six +o'clock sharp. Two hunnerd an' fifty bones being a whole lot more than I +could make in a night, I gambled with 'em an' let 'em have th' machine, +makin' sure that I got the coin foist. They drove off, two of 'em +inside, an' I put in th' rest of th' night shootin' pool. When I got to +th' corner of Twenty-eig't at six o'clock this mornin', there wasn't any +sign of 'em--but th' car was there, still hot from the hard ride they +give her. That's all I know--'shelp me Gawd!" + +"Did the men have any bags with them?" + +"Bags? No, not one." + +"What did they look like?" + +"The one that talked with me was 'bout my heig't an' dressed in a dark +suit. He an' th' others had their hats pulled down over their eyes, so's +I couldn't see their faces." + +"Did he talk with a German accent?" + +"He sure did. I couldn't hardly make out what he was sayin'. But his +money talked plain enough." + +"Yes, and it's very likely to talk loud enough to send you to the pen if +you're not careful!" was Whitney's reply. "If you don't want to land +there, keep your mouth shut about this. D'you get me?" + +"I do, boss, I do." + +"And you've told me all the truth--every bit of it?" + +"Every little bit." + +"All right. Clear out!" + +When Murphy left the room, Whitney turned to the manager and, with a wry +smile, remarked: "Well, we've discovered where the car came from and how +they got it. But that's all. We're really as much in the dark as +before." + +"No," replied the manager, musingly. "Not quite as much. Possibly you +don't know it, but we have a device on every car that leaves this garage +to take care of just such cases as this--to prevent drivers from running +their machines all over town without pulling down the lever and then +holding out the fares on us. Just a minute and I'll show you. + +"Joe," he called, "bring me the record tape of Murphy's machine for last +night and hold his car till you hear from me." + +"This tape," he explained, a few minutes later, "is operated something +along the lines of a seismograph or any other instrument for detecting +change in direction. An inked needle marks these straight lines and +curves all the time the machine is moving, and when it is standing still +it oscillates slightly. By glancing at these tapes we can tell when any +chauffeur is holding out on us, for it forms a clear record--not only of +the distance the machine has traveled, but of the route it followed." + +"Doesn't the speedometer give you the distance?" asked Whitney. + +"Theoretically, yes. But it's a very simple matter to disconnect a +speedometer, while this record is kept in a locked box and not one +driver in ten even knows it's there. Now, let's see what Murphy's record +tape tells us.... + +"Yes, here's the trip to the theater around eight-thirty. See the sharp +turn from Fifth Avenue into Forty-second Street, the momentary stop in +front of the Amsterdam, and the complete sweep as he turned around to +get back to Broadway. Then there's the journey up to the Bronx or Harlem +or wherever he went, another complete turn and an uninterrupted trip +back down on Broadway." + +"Then this," cut in Whitney, unable to keep the excitement out of his +voice, "is where he stopped to speak to the Germans?" + +"Precisely," agreed the other, "and, as you'll note, that stop was +evidently longer than either of the other two. They paid their fares, +while Murphy's friends had to be relieved of two hundred and fifty +dollars." + +"From there on is what I'm interested in," announced Whitney. "What does +the tape say?" + +"It doesn't _say_ anything," admitted the manager, with a smile. "But it +_indicates_ a whole lot. In fact, it blazes a blood-red trail that you +ought to be able to follow with very little difficulty. See, when the +machine started it kept on down Broadway--in fact, there's no sign of a +turn for several blocks." + +"How many?" + +"That we can't tell--now. But we can figure it up very accurately later. +The machine then turned to the right and went west for a short distance +only--stopped for a few moments--and then went on, evidently toward the +ferry, for here's a delay to get on board, here's a wavy line evidently +made by the motion of the boat when the hand ought to have been +practically at rest, and here's where they picked up the trip to +Trenton. Evidently they didn't have to stop until they got there, +because we have yards of tape before we reach a stop point, and then the +paper is worn completely through by the action of the needle in +oscillating, indicative of a long period of inaction. The return trip is +just as plain." + +"But," Whitney objected, "the whole thing hinges on where they went +before going to Trenton. Murphy said they didn't have any bags, so they +must have gone home or to some rendezvous to collect them. How are we +going to find the corner where the machine turned?" + +"By taking Murphy's car and driving it very carefully south on Broadway +until the tape indicates precisely the distance marked on this one--the +place where the turn was made. Then, driving down that street, the +second distance shown on the tape will give you approximately the house +you're looking for!" + +"Good Lord," exclaimed Whitney, "that's applying science to it! Sherlock +Holmes wasn't so smart, after all!" + +Al and the manager agreed that there was too much traffic on Broadway in +the daytime or early evening to attempt the experiment, but shortly +after midnight, belated pedestrians might have wondered why a +Green-and-White taxicab containing two men proceeded down Broadway at a +snail's pace, while every now and then it stopped and one of the men got +out to examine something inside. + +"I think this is the corner," whispered the garage manager to Whitney, +when they reached Eighth Street, "but to be sure, we'll go back and try +it over again, driving at a normal pace. It's lucky that this is a new +instrument and therefore very accurate." + +The second trial produced the same result as the first--the place they +sought lay a few blocks west of Broadway, on Eighth. + +Before they tried to find out the precise location of the house, Whitney +phoned to headquarters and requested loan of a score of men to assist +him in the contemplated raid. + +"Tell 'em to have their guns handy," he ordered, "because we may have +to surround the block and search every house." + +But the taxi tape rendered that unnecessary. It indicated any one of +three adjoining houses on the north side of the street, because, as the +manager pointed out, the machine had not turned round again until it +struck a north-and-south thoroughfare, hence the houses must be on the +north side. + +By this time the reserves were on hand and, upon instructions from +Whitney, spread out in a fan-shaped formation, completely surrounding +the houses, front and rear. At a blast from a police whistle they +mounted the steps and, not waiting for the doors to be opened, went +through them shoulders first. + +It was Whitney, who had elected to assist in the search of the center +house, who captured his prey in a third-floor bedroom. + +Before the Germans knew what was happening Al was in the room, his +flashlight playing over the floor and table in a hasty search for +incriminating evidence. It didn't take long to find it, either. In one +corner, only partly concealed by a newspaper whose flaring headlines +referred to the explosion of the night before, was a collection of bombs +which, according to later expert testimony was sufficient to blow a +good-sized hole in the city of New York. + +That was all they discovered at the time, but a judicious use of the +third degree--coupled with promises of leniency--induced one of the +prisoners to loosen up the next day and he told the whole +story--precisely as the taxi tape and Vera Norton had told it. The only +missing ingredient was the power behind the plot--the mysterious "No. +859"--whom Dick Walters later captured because of the clue on Shelf +forty-five. + + * * * * * + +"So you see," commented Quinn as he finished, "the younger Pitt wasn't +so far wrong when he cynically remarked that 'there is a Providence that +watches over children, imbeciles, and the United States.' In this case +the principal clues were a book from the Public Library, the chance +observations of a girl who couldn't sleep and a piece of white paper +with some red markings on it. + +"At that, though, it's not the first time that German agents have gotten +into trouble over a scrap of paper." + +"What happened to Vera Norton?" I inquired. + +"Beyond a little personal glory, not a thing in the world," replied +Quinn. "Didn't I tell you that Al was married? You're always looking for +romance, even in everyday life. Besides, if he had been a bachelor, +Whitney was too busy trying to round up the other loose ends of the +Ewald case. 'Number eight fifty-nine' hadn't been captured then, you +remember. + +"Give me a match--my pipe's gone out. No, I can't smoke it here; it's +too late. But speaking of small clues that lead to big things, some day +soon I'll tell you the story of how a match--one just like this, for all +I know--led to the uncovering of one of the most difficult smuggling +cases that the Customs Service ever tried to solve." + + + + +IX + +A MATCH FOR THE GOVERNMENT + + +"I wonder how long it will take," mused Bill Quinn, as he tossed aside a +copy of his favorite fictional monthly, "to remove the ethical +restrictions which the war placed upon novels and short stories? Did you +ever notice the changing style in villains, for example? A decade or so +ago it was all the rage to have a Japanese do the dirty work--for then +we were taking the 'yellow peril' rather seriously and it was reflected +in our reading matter. The tall, well-dressed Russian, with a sinister +glitter in his black eyes, next stepped upon the scene, to be followed +by the villain whose swarthy complexion gave a hint of his Latin +ancestry. + +"For the past few years, of course, every real villain has had to have +at least a touch of Teutonic blood to account for the various +treacheries which he tackles. I don't recall a single novel--or a short +story, either--that has had an English or French villain who is foiled +in the last few pages. I suppose you'd call it the _entente cordiale_ of +the novelists, a sort of concerted attempt by the writing clan to do +their bit against the Hun. And mighty good propaganda it was, too.... + +"But, unfortunately, the detective of real life can't always tell by +determining a man's nationality whether he's going to turn out to be a +crook or a hero. When you come right down to it, every country has about +the same proportion of each and it's only by the closest observation +that one can arrive at a definite and fact-supported conclusion. + +"Details--trifles unnoticed in themselves--play a far larger part in the +final denouement than any preconceived ideas or fanciful theories. There +was the case of Ezra Marks and the Dillingham diamonds, for example...." + + * * * * * + +Ezra [continued the former Secret Service operative, when he had eased +his game leg into a position where it no longer gave him active trouble] +was all that the name implied. Born in Vermont, of a highly puritanical +family, he had been named for his paternal grandfather and probably also +for some character from the Old Testament. I'm not awfully strong on +that Biblical stuff myself. + +It wasn't long after he grew up, however, that life on the farm began to +pall. He found a copy of the life of Alan Pinkerton somewhere and read +it through until he knew it from cover to cover. As was only natural in +a boy of his age, he determined to become a great detective, and drifted +down to Boston with that object in view. But, once in the city, he found +that "detecting" was a little more difficult than he had imagined, and +finally agreed to compromise by accepting a very minor position in the +Police Department. Luckily, his beat lay along the water front and he +got tangled up in two or three smuggling cases which he managed to +unravel in fine shape, and, in this way, attracted the attention of the +Customs Branch of the Treasury Department, which is always on the +lookout for new timber. It's a hard life, you know, and one which +doesn't constitute a good risk for an insurance company. So there are +always gaps to be filled--and Ezra plugged up one of them very nicely. + +As might have been expected, the New Englander was hardly ever addressed +by his full name. "E. Z." was the title they coined for him, and "E. Z." +he was from that time on--at least to everyone in the Service. The +people on the other side of the fence, however, the men and women who +look upon the United States government as a joke and its laws as hurdles +over which they can jump whenever they wish--found that this Mark was +far from an easy one. He it was who handled the Wang Foo opium case in +San Diego in nineteen eleven. He nailed the gun runners at El Paso when +half a dozen other men had fallen down on the assignment, and there were +at least three Canadian cases which bore the imprint of his latent +genius on the finished reports. + +His particular kind of genius was distinctly out of the ordinary, too. +He wasn't flashy and he was far from a hard worker. He just stuck around +and watched everything worth watching until he located the tip he +wanted. Then he went to it--and the case was finished! + +The chap who stated that "genius is the capacity for infinite attention +to details" had Ezra sized up to a T. And it was one of these +details--probably the most trifling one of all--that led to his most +startling success. + +Back in the spring of nineteen twelve the European agents of the +Treasury Department reported to Washington that a collection of uncut +diamonds, most of them rather large, had been sold to the German +representative of a firm in Rotterdam. From certain tips which they +picked up, however, the men abroad were of the opinion that the stones +were destined for the United States and advised that all German boats be +carefully watched, because the Dillingham diamonds--as the collection +was known--had been last heard of en route to Hamburg and it was to be +expected that they would clear from there. + +The cablegram didn't cause any wild excitement in the Treasury +Department. European agents have a habit of trying to stir up trouble in +order to make it appear that they are earning their money and then they +claim that the people over here are not always alert enough to follow +their tips. It's the old game of passing the buck. You have to expect it +in any business. + +But, as events turned out, the men on the other side were dead right. + +Almost before Washington had time officially to digest the cable and to +mail out the stereotyped warnings based upon it, a report filtered in +from Wheeling, West Virginia, that one of the newly made coal +millionaires in that section had invested in some uncut diamonds as +large as the end of your thumb. The report came in merely as a routine +statement, but it set the customs authorities to thinking. + +Uncut stones, you know, are hard to locate, either when they are being +brought in or after they actually arrive. Their color is dull and +slatelike and there is little to distinguish them from other and far +less valuable pebbles. Of course, there might not be the slightest +connection in the world between the Wheeling diamonds and those of the +Dillingham collection--but then, on the other hand, there might.... + +Hence, it behooved the customs people to put on a little more speed and +to watch the incoming steamers just as carefully as they knew how. + +Some weeks passed and the department had sunk back into a state of +comfortable ease--broken only occasionally by a minor case or two--when +a wire arrived one morning stating that two uncut diamonds had appeared +in New York under conditions which appeared distinctly suspicious. The +owner had offered them at a price 'way under the market figure, and +then, rather than reply to one or two questions relative to the history +of the stones, had disappeared. There was no record of the theft of any +diamonds answering to the description of those seen in Maiden Lane, and +the police force inquired if Washington thought they could have been +smuggled. + +"Of course they could," snorted the chief. "But there's nothing to prove +it. Until we get our hands upon them and a detailed description of the +Dillingham stones, it's impossible to tell." + +So he cabled abroad for an accurate list of the diamonds which had been +sold a couple of months earlier, with special instructions to include +any identifying marks, as it was essential to spot the stones before a +case could be built up in court. + +The following Tuesday a long dispatch from Rotterdam reached the +department, stating, among other things, that one of the Dillingham +diamonds could be distinguished by a heart-shaped flaw located just +below the surface. That same afternoon came another wire from New York +to the effect that two rough stones, answering to the description of the +ones alluded to in a previous message, had turned up in the jewelry +district after passing through half a dozen underground channels. + +"Has one of the diamonds a heart-shaped flaw in it?" the chief inquired +by wire. + +"It has," came back the response. "How did you know it?" + +"I didn't," muttered the head of the Customs Service, "but I took a +chance. The odds were twenty to one against me, but I've seen these long +shots win before. Now," ringing for Mahoney, his assistant, "we'll see +what can be done to keep the rest of that collection from drifting +in--if it hasn't already arrived." + +"Where's Marks located now?" the chief inquired when Mahoney entered. + +"Somewhere in the vicinity of Buffalo, I believe. He's working on that +Chesbro case, the one in connection with--" + +"I know," cut in the chief. "But that's pin money compared with this +matter of the Dillingham diamonds. Thousands of dollars are at stake +here, against hundreds there. Besides, if this thing ever leaks out to +the papers we'll never hear the last of it. The New York office isn't in +any too strong as it is. Wire Marks to drop the trail of those silk +hounds and beat it to New York as fast as he can. He'll find real work +awaiting him there--something that ought to prove a test of the +reputation he's built up on the other three borders. Hurry it up!" + +"E. Z." found the message awaiting him when he returned to his hotel +that night, and without the slightest symptom of a grouch grabbed the +next train for New York. As he told me later, he didn't mind in the +least dropping the silk matter, because he had put in the better part of +a month on it and didn't seem any closer than when he started. + +It took Ezra less than five minutes to get all the dope the New York +office had on the case--and it took him nearly six months to solve it. + +"The two diamonds in Wheeling and the two that turned up here are the +only ones we know about," said the man in charge of the New York office. +"The original Dillingham collection contained twenty-one rough +stones--but whether the other seventeen have already been brought in or +whether the people who are handling them have shipped them elsewhere is +wholly problematical. The chief learned about the heart-shaped flaw from +our man at Rotterdam, so that identifies one of the stones. But at the +same time it doesn't help us in the least--for we can't handle the case +from this end." + +"Same rules as on the Coast, eh?" inquired Marks. + +"Precisely. You've got to tackle the other end of the game. No rummaging +around here, trying to pick up the trail that ends with the stone in +Maiden Lane. As you know, this bunch is pretty well organized, wheels +within wheels and fences on fences. You get something on one of them and +the rest of the crowd will perjure themselves black in the face to get +him off, with the result that your case will be laughed out of court and +the man you're really after--the chap who's running the stones under +your nose--is a thousand miles away with a grin on his face. You've got +to land him first and the others later, if the chief wants them. The +chances are, though, that he'll be well satisfied to have the goods on +the crook that's doing the main part of the work." + +"Well," drawled Marks, "I trust he gets his satisfaction. Got any ideas +on the matter?" + +"Nary an idea. The stones were sold abroad and presumably they were +headed for Hamburg--which would appear to point to a German boat. Four +of them, supposedly--one of them, certainly--turned up here without +passing through the office or paying the customary duty. Now go to it!" + +When Marks got back to his hotel and started to think the problem over, +he had to admit that there wasn't very much to "go to." It was the +thinnest case he had ever tackled--a perfect circle of a problem, +without the slightest sign of a beginning, save the one which was +barred. + +Anxious as he was to make good, he had to concede that the department's +policy of working from the other end of the case was the right course to +follow. He had heard of too many arrests that fell flat, too many weary +weeks of work that went for nothing--because the evidence was +insufficient--not to realize the justice of the regulations that +appeared to hamper him. + +"No," he thought, as he half dreamed over a pipe-load of tobacco, "the +case seems to be impregnable. But there must be some way to jimmy into +it if you try long enough." + +His first move was the fairly obvious one of searching the newspaper +files to discover just what ships had docked during the ten days +previous to the appearance of the stones in Wheeling. But this led +nowhere, because that week had been a very busy one in maritime circles. +The _Celtic_, the _Mauretania_, the _Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse_, the +_Kronprinzessin Cecelie_, the _Deutschland_ and a host of other smaller +vessels had landed within that time. + +Just as a check upon his observations, he examined the records for the +week preceding the first appearance of the diamonds in New York. Here +again he ran into a snag, but one which enabled him to eliminate at +least half of the vessels he had considered before. However, there still +remained a sufficient number to make it impossible to watch all of them +or even to fix upon two or three which appeared more suspicious than the +others. + +The information from abroad pointed to the fact that a German boat was +carrying the diamonds, but, Marks figured, there was nothing in the +world to prevent the stones from being taken into England or France or +Italy and reshipped from there. They had turned up in the United States, +so why couldn't they have been slipped through the customs of other +countries just as easily? + +The one point about the whole matter that appeared significant to him +was that two stones had been reported in each case--a pair in Wheeling +and another pair in New York. This evidence would be translated either +to mean that the smugglers preferred to offer the diamonds in small +lots, so as not to center suspicion too sharply in their movements, or +that the space which they used to conceal the stones was extremely +limited. + +Marks inclined to the latter theory, because two stones, rather than +one, had been offered in each instance. If the whole lot had been run +in, he argued, the men responsible would market them singly, rather than +in pairs. This would not detract in the slightest from the value of the +stones, as it isn't easy to match rough diamonds and thus increase their +market value. + +Having settled this matter to his own satisfaction and being convinced +that, as not more than two stones were being run in at one time, it +would take at least eight more trips to import the entire shipment, +"E. Z." settled down to a part of the government detective's work which +is the hardest and the most necessary in his life--that which can best +be characterized by the phrase "watchful waiting." + +For weeks at a time he haunted the docks and wharves along the New York +water front. His tall, angular figure became a familiar sight at every +landing place and his eyes roamed restlessly over the crowds that came +down the gangplank. In a number of instances he personally directed the +searching of bags and baggage which appeared to be suspicious. Save for +locating a few bolts of valuable lace and an oil painting concealed in +the handle of a walking stick which was patently hollow, he failed to +turn up a thing. + +The only ray of hope that he could glimpse was the fact that, since he +had been assigned to the case, four more stones had been reported--again +in pairs. This proved that his former reasoning had been correct and +also that the smugglers evidently intended to bring in all of the +twenty-one stones, two at a time. But when he came to catalog the hiding +places which might be used to conceal two articles of the size of the +stones already spotted, he was stumped. The list included a walking +stick, the heels of a pair of women's shoes, two dummy pieces of candy +concealed in a box of real confections, a box of talcum, a bag of +marbles, the handle of an umbrella, or any one of a number of other +trinkets which travelers carry as a matter of course or bring home as +curios or gifts. + +Finally, after two solid months of unproductive work, he boarded the +midnight train for Washington and strolled into the chief's office the +following morning, to lay his cards on the table. + +"Frankly," he admitted, "I haven't accomplished a thing. I'm as far from +breaking into the circle as I was at the beginning, and, so far as I can +see, there isn't any hope of doing it for some time to come." + +"Well," inquired the chief, "do you want to be relieved of the case or +do you want me to drop the matter entirely--to confess that the Customs +Service has been licked by a single clever smuggler?" + +"Not at all!" and Marks's tone indicated that such a thought had never +entered his head. "I want the Service to stick with the case and I want +to continue to handle it. But I do want a definite assurance of time." + +"How much time?" + +"That I can't say. The only lead I've located--and that isn't sufficient +to be dignified by the term 'clue'--will take weeks and probably months +to run to earth. I don't see another earthly trail to follow, but I +would like to have time to see whether this one leads anywhere." + +"All right," agreed the chief, fully realizing what "E. Z." was up +against and not being hurried by any pressure from the outside--for the +case had been carefully kept out of the newspapers--"this is September. +Suppose we say the first of the year? How does that suit you?" + +"Fair enough, if that's the best you can do." + +"I'm afraid it is," was the comment from across the desk, "because +that's all the case is worth to us. Your time is valuable and we can't +afford to spend a year on any case--unless it's something as big as the +sugar frauds. Stick with it until New Year's, and if nothing new +develops before then we'll have to admit we're licked and turn you loose +on something else." + +"Thanks, Chief," said Marks, getting up from his chair. "You can depend +upon my doing everything possible in the next three months to locate the +leak and I surely appreciate your kindness in not delivering an +ultimatum that you want the smuggler or my job. But then I guess you +know that I couldn't work any harder than I'm going to, anyhow." + +"Possibly," agreed the head of the Service, "and then, again, it may be +because I have confidence that you'll turn the trick within the year. +Want any help from this end?" + +"No, thanks. This looks like a one-man game and it ought not to take +more than one man to finish it. A whole bunch of people always clutter +up the place and get you tangled in their pet theories and personal +ideas. What I would like, though, is to be kept in close touch with any +further developments concerning stones that appear later on--where they +are located--their exact weight and diameter, and any other facts that +might indicate a possible hiding place." + +"You'll get that, all right," promised the chief. "And I trust that +you'll develop a red-hot trail of your own before January first." + +With that Marks shook hands and started back to New York, fairly well +pleased with the results of his trip, but totally disgusted with the +lack of progress which he had made since leaving Buffalo. + +Early in October a message from Washington informed him that a couple of +uncut diamonds had turned up in Cincinnati, stones which answered to the +description of a pair in the Dillingham collection. + +Around the 10th of November another pair was heard from in Boston, and +anyone who was familiar with Marks and his methods would have noted a +tightening of the muscles around his mouth and a narrowing of his eyes +which always indicated that he was nearing the solution of a difficulty. + +After receiving the November message he stopped haunting the wharves and +commenced to frequent the steamship offices of the Hamburg-American, +North German Lloyd and Llanarch lines. The latter, as you probably know, +is operated by Welsh and British capital and runs a few small boats +carrying passengers who would ordinarily travel second class, together +with a considerable amount of freight. + +When the first day of December dawned, Marks drew a deep-red circle +around the name of the month on his calendar and emitted a prayerful +oath, to the effect he'd "be good and eternally damned if that month +didn't contain an unexpected Christmas present for a certain person." He +made no pretense of knowing who the person was--but he did feel that he +was considerably closer to his prey than he had been five months before. + +Fate, as some one has already remarked, only deals a man a certain +number of poor hands before his luck changes. Sometimes it gets worse, +but, on the average, it improves. In Ezra Marks's case Fate took the +form of a storm at sea, one of those winter hurricanes that sweep +across the Atlantic and play havoc with shipping. + +Ezra was patiently waiting for one of three boats. Which one, he didn't +know--but by the process of elimination he had figured to a mathematical +certainty that one of them ought to carry two uncut diamonds which were +destined never to visit the customs office. Little by little, through +the months that had passed, he had weeded out the ships which failed to +make port at the time the diamonds arrived--calculating the time by the +dates on which the stones appeared elsewhere--and there were only three +ships left. One of them was a North German Lloyder, the second belonged +to the Hamburg-American fleet, and the third possessed an +unpronounceable Welsh name and flew the pennant of the Llanarch line. + +As it happened, the two German ships ran into the teeth of the gale and +were delayed three days in their trip, while the Welsh boat missed the +storm entirely and docked on time. + +Two days later came a message from Washington to the effect that two +diamonds, uncut, had been offered for sale in Philadelphia. + +"Have to have one more month," replied Marks. "Imperative! Can +practically guarantee success by fifteenth of January"--for that was the +date on which the Welsh ship was due to return. + +"Extension granted," came the word from Washington. "Rely on you to make +good. Can't follow case any longer than a month under any +circumstances." + +Marks grinned when he got that message. The trap was set, and, unless +something unforeseen occurred, "E. Z." felt that the man and the method +would both be in the open before long. + +When the Welsh ship was reported off quarantine in January, Marks +bundled himself into a big fur coat and went down the bay in one of the +government boats, leaving instructions that, the moment the ship docked, +she was to be searched from stem to stern. + +"Don't overlook as much as a pill box or a rat hole," he warned his +assistants, and more than a score of men saw to it that his instructions +were carried out to the letter. + +Beyond exhibiting his credentials, Marks made no effort to explain why +the ship was under suspicion. He watched the deck closely to prevent the +crew from throwing packages overboard, and as soon as they reached dock +he requested all officers to join him in one of the big rooms belonging +to the Customs Service. There he explained his reasons for believing +that some one on board was guilty of defrauding the government out of +duty on a number of uncut diamonds. + +"What's more," he concluded, at the end of an address which was +purposely lengthy in order to give his men time to search the ship, "I +am willing to stake my position against the fact that two more diamonds +are on board the ship at this moment!" + +Luckily, no one took him up--for he was wrong. + +The captain, pompous and self-assertive, preferred to rise and rant +against the "infernal injustice of this high-handed method." + +Marks settled back to listen in silence and his fingers strayed to the +side pocket of his coat where his pet pipe reposed. His mind strayed to +the thought of how his men were getting along on the ship, and he +absent-mindedly packed the pipe and struck a match to light it. + +It was then that his eye fell upon the man seated beside him--Halley, +the British first mate of the steamer. He had seen him sitting there +before, but had paid little attention to him. Now he became aware of +the fact that the mate was smoking a huge, deep-bowled meerschaum pipe. +At least, it had been in his mouth ever since he entered, ready to be +smoked, but unlighted. + +Almost without thinking about it, Marks leaned forward and presented the +lighted match, holding it above the mate's pipe. + +"Light?" he inquired, in a matter-of-fact tone. + +To his amazement, the other started back as if he had been struck, and +then, recovering himself, muttered: "No, thanks. I'm not smoking." + +"Not smoking?" was the thought that flashed through Marks's head, "then +why--" + +But the solution of the matter flashed upon him almost instantly. Before +the mate had time to move, Marks's hand snapped forward and seized the +pipe. With the same movement he turned it upside down and rapped the +bowl upon the table. Out fell a fair amount of tobacco, followed by two +slate-colored pebbles which rolled across the table under the very eyes +of the captain! + +"I guess that's all the evidence we need!" Marks declared, with a laugh +of relief. "You needn't worry about informing your consul and entering a +protest, Captain Williams. I'll take charge of your mate and these +stones and you can clear when you wish." + + + + +X + +THE GIRL AT THE SWITCHBOARD + + +"When you come right down to it," mused Bill Quinn, "women came as near +to winning the late but unlamented war as did any other single factor. + +"The Food Administration placarded their statement that 'Food Will Win +the War' broadcast throughout the country, and that was followed by a +whole flock of other claimants, particularly after the armistice was +signed. But there were really only two elements that played a leading +role in the final victory--men and guns. And women backed these to the +limit of their powerful ability--saving food, buying bonds, doing extra +work, wearing a smile when their hearts were torn, and going 'way out of +their usual sphere in hundreds of cases--and making good in practically +every one of them. + +"So far as we know, the Allied side presented no analogy to Mollie +Pitcher or the other heroines of past conflicts, for war has made such +forward steps that personal heroism on the part of women is almost +impossible. Of course, we had Botchkareva and her 'Regiment of Death,' +not to mention Edith Cavell, but the list is not a long one. + +"When it is finally completed, however, there are a few names which the +public hasn't yet heard which will stand well toward the front. For +example, there was Virginia Lang--" + +"Was she the girl at the switchboard that you mentioned in connection +with the von Ewald case?" I interrupted. + +"That's the one," said Quinn, "and, what's more, she played a leading +role in that melodrama, a play in which they didn't use property guns or +cartridges." + + * * * * * + +Miss Lang [continued Quinn] was one of the few women I ever heard of +that practically solved a Secret Service case "on her own." Of course, +in the past, the different governmental detective services have found it +to their advantage to go outside the male sex for assistance. + +There have been instances where women in the employ of the Treasury +Department rendered valuable service in trailing smugglers--the matter +of the Deauville diamonds is a case in point--and even the Secret +Service hasn't been above using women to assist in running +counterfeiters to earth, while the archives of the State Department +would reveal more than one interesting record of feminine co-operation +in connection with underground diplomacy. + +But in all these cases the women were employed to handle the work and +they were only doing what they were paid for, while Virginia Lang-- + +Well, in the first place, she was one of the girls in charge of the +switchboard at the Rennoc in New York. You know the place--that big +apartment hotel on Riverside Drive where the lobby is only a shade less +imposing than the bell-boys and it costs you a month's salary to speak +to the superintendent. They never have janitors in a place like that. + +Virginia herself--I came to know her fairly well in the winter of +nineteen seventeen, after Dave Carroll had gone to the front--was well +qualified by nature to be the heroine of any story. Rather above the +average in size, she had luckily taken advantage of her physique to +round out her strength with a gymnasium course. But in spite of being a +big woman, she had the charm and personality which are more often found +in those less tall. When you couple this with a head of wonderful hair, +a practically perfect figure, eyes into which a man could look and, +looking, lose himself, lips which would have caused a lip stick to blush +and--Oh, what's the use? Words only caricature a beautiful woman, and, +besides, if you haven't gotten the effect already, there's nothing that +I could tell you that would help any. + +In the spring of nineteen sixteen, when the von Ewald chase was at its +height, Miss Lang was employed at the Rennoc switchboard and it speaks +well for her character when I can tell you that not one of the bachelor +tenants ever tried a second time to put anything over. Virginia's eyes +could snap when they wanted to and Virginia's lips could frame a cutting +retort as readily as a pleasant phrase. + +In a place like the Rennoc, run as an apartment hotel, the guests change +quite frequently, and it was some task to keep track of all of them, +particularly when there were three girls working in the daytime, though +only one was on at night. They took it by turns--each one working one +week in four at night and the other three holding down the job from +eight to six. So, as it happened, Virginia did not see Dave Carroll +until he had been there nearly a month. He blew in from Washington early +one evening and straightway absented himself from the hotel until +sometime around seven the following morning, following the schedule +right through, every night. + +Did you ever know Carroll? He and I worked together on the Farron case +out in St. Louis, the one where a bookmaker at the races tipped us off +to the biggest counterfeiting scheme ever attempted in this country, and +after that he took part in a number of other affairs, including the one +which prevented the Haitian revolution in nineteen thirteen. + +Dave wasn't what you would call good-looking, though he did have a way +with women. The first night that he came downstairs--after a good day's +sleep--and spotted Virginia Lang on the switchboard, he could have been +pardoned for wandering over and trying to engage her in a conversation. +But the only rise he got was from her eyebrows. They went up in that +"I-am-sure-I-have-never-met-you" manner which is guaranteed to be cold +water to the most ardent male, and the only reply she vouchsafed was +"What number did you wish?" + +"You appear to have mine," Dave laughed, and then asked for Rector 2800, +the private branch which connected with the Service headquarters. + +When he came out of the booth he was careful to confine himself to +"Thank you" and the payment of his toll. But there was something about +him that made Virginia Lang feel he was "different"--a word which, with +women, may mean anything--or nothing. Then she returned to the reading +of her detective story, a type of literature to which she was much +addicted. + +Carroll, as you have probably surmised, was one of the more than +twoscore Government operatives sent to New York to work on the von Ewald +case. His was a night shift, with roving orders to wander round the +section in the neighborhood of Columbus Circle and stand ready to get +anywhere in the upper section of the city in a hurry in case anything +broke. But, beyond reporting to headquarters regularly every hour, the +assignment was not exactly eventful. + +The only thing that was known about von Ewald at that time was that a +person using such a name--or alias--was in charge of the German +intrigues against American neutrality. Already nearly a score of bomb +outrages, attempts to destroy shipping, plots against munition plants, +and the like had been laid at his door, but the elusive Hun had yet to +be spotted. Indeed, there were many men in the Service who doubted the +existence of such a person, and of these Carroll was one. + +But he shrugged his shoulders and stoically determined to bear the +monotony of strolling along Broadway and up, past the Plaza, to Fifth +Avenue and back again every night--a program which was varied only by an +occasional seance at Reisenweber's or Pabst's, for that was in the days +before the one-half of one per cent represented the apotheosis of liquid +refreshment. + +It was while he was walking silently along Fifty-ninth Street, on the +north side, close to the Park, a few nights after his brush with +Virginia Lang, that Carroll caught the first definite information about +the case that anyone had obtained. + +He hadn't noted the men until he was almost upon them, for the night was +dark and the operative's rubber heels made no sound upon the pavement. +Possibly he wouldn't have noticed them then if it hadn't been for a +phrase or two of whispered German that floated out through the +shrubbery. + +"He will stay at Conner's" was what reached Carroll's ears. "That will +be our chance--a rare opportunity to strike two blows at once, one at +our enemy and the other at this smug, self-satisfied nation which is +content to make money out of the slaughter of Germany's sons. Once he is +in the hotel, the rest will be easy." + +"How?" inquired a second voice. + +"A bomb, so arranged to explode with the slightest additional pressure, +in a--" + +"Careful," growled a third man. "Eight fifty-nine would hardly care to +have his plans spread all over New York. This cursed shrubbery is so +dense that there is no telling who may be near. Come!" + +And Carroll, crouched on the outside of the fence which separates the +street from the Park, knew that seconds were precious if he was to get +any further information. A quick glance down the street showed him that +the nearest gate was too far away to permit of entrance in that manner. +So, slipping his automatic into the side pocket of his coat he leaped +upward and grasped the top of the iron fence. On the other side he could +hear the quick scuffle of feet as the Germans, alarmed, began to retreat +rapidly. + +A quick upward heave, a purchase with his feet, and he was over, his +revolver in his hand the instant he lighted on the other side. + +"Halt!" he called, more from force of habit than from anything else, for +he had no idea that any of the trio would stop. + +But evidently one of them did, for from behind the shelter of a near-by +bush came the quick spat of a revolver and a tongue of flame shot toward +him. The bullet, however, sung harmlessly past and he replied with a +fusillade of shots that ripped through the bush and brought a shower of +German curses from the other side. Then another of the conspirators +opened fire from a point at right angles to the first, and the ruse was +successful, for it diverted Carroll's attention long enough to permit +the escape of the first man, and the operative was still flat on the +ground, edging his way cautiously forward when the Park police arrived, +the vanguard of a curious crowd attracted by the shots. + +"What's the trouble?" demanded the "sparrow cop." + +"None at all," replied Dave, as he slipped the still warm revolver into +his pocket and brushed some dirt from his sleeve. "Guy tried to hold me +up, that's all, and I took a pot shot at him. Cut it! Secret Service!" +and he cautiously flashed his badge in the light of the electric torch +which the park policeman held. + +"Huh!" grunted the guard, as he made his way to the bush from behind +which Carroll had been attacked. "You evidently winged him. There's +blood on the grass here, but no sign of the bird himself. Want any +report to headquarters?" he added, in an undertone. + +"Not a word," said Carroll. "I'm working this end of the game and I want +to finish it without assistance. It's the only thing that's happened in +a month to break the monotony and there's no use declaring anyone else +in on it. By the way, do you know of any place in town known as +Conner's?" + +"Conner's? Never heard of it. Sounds as though it might be a dive in the +Bowery. Plenty of queer places down there." + +"No, it's hardly likely to be in that section of the city," Dave stated. +"Farther uptown, I think. But it's a new one on me." + +"On me, too," agreed the guard, "and I thought I knew the town like a +book." + +When he reported to headquarters a few moments later, Carroll told the +chief over the wire of his brush with the trio of Germans, as well as +what he had heard. There was more than a quiver of excitement in the +voice from the other end of the wire, for this was the first actual +proof of the existence of the mysterious "No. 859." + +"Still believe von Ewald is a myth?" inquired the Chief. + +"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that," was the answer, "because +the bullet that just missed me was pretty material. Evidently some one +is planning these bomb outrages and it's up to us to nab him--if only +for the sake of the Service." + +"Did you catch the name of the man to whom your friends were alluding?" +asked the chief. + +"No, they just referred to him as 'he.'" + +"That might mean any one of a number of people," mused the chief. "Sir +Cecil Spring-Rice is in town, you know. Stopping at the Waldorf. Then +there's the head of the French Mission at the Vanderbilt with a bunch of +people, and Lord Wimbledon, who's spent five million dollars for horses +in the West, stopping at the same place you are. You might keep an eye +on him and I'll send Kramer and Fleming up to trail the other two." + +"Did you ever hear of the place they called Conner's, Chief?" + +"No, but that doesn't mean anything. It may be a code word--a +prearranged name to camouflage the hotel in the event anyone were +listening in." + +"Possibly," replied Carroll, just before he hung up, "but somehow I have +a hunch that it wasn't. I'll get back on the job and let you know if +anything further develops." + +His adventure for the night appeared to have ended, for he climbed into +bed the following morning without having been disturbed, but lay awake +for an hour or more--obsessed with the idea that he really held the clue +to the whole affair, but unable to figure out just what it was. + +Where was it that they intended to place the bomb? Why would they +arrange it so as to explode upon pressure, rather than concussion or by +a time fuse? Where was Conner's? Who was the man they were plotting +against? + +These were some of the questions which raced through his brain, and he +awoke in the late afternoon still haunted by the thought that he really +ought to know more than he did. + +That night at dinner he noted, almost subconsciously, that he was served +by a new waiter, a fact that rather annoyed him because he had been +particularly pleased at the service rendered by the other man. + +"Where's Felix?" he inquired, as the new attendant brought his soup. + +"He isn't on to-night, sir," was the reply. "He had an accident and +won't be here for a couple of days." + +"An accident?" + +"Yes, sir," was the laconic answer. + +"Anything serious?" + +"No, sir. He--he hurt his hand," and the waiter disappeared without +another word. Carroll thought nothing more of it at the time, but later, +over his coffee and a good cigar, a sudden idea struck him. Could it be +that Felix was one of the men whom he had surprised the night before, +the one he had fired at and hit? No, that was too much of a coincidence. +But then Felix was manifestly of foreign origin, and, while he claimed +to be Swiss, there was a distinct Teutonic rasp to his words upon +occasion. + +Signaling to his waiter, Dave inquired whether he knew where Felix +lived. "I'd like to know if there is anything that I can do for him," he +gave as his reason for asking. + +"I haven't the slightest idea," came the answer, and Carroll was aware +that the man was lying, for his demeanor was sullen rather than +subservient and the customary "sir" was noticeable by its absence. + +Once in the lobby, Dave noticed that the pretty telephone operator was +again at the switchboard, and the idea occurred to him that he might +find out Felix's address from the hotel manager or head waiter. + +"I understand that my waiter has been hurt in an accident," the +operative explained to the goddess of the wires, "and I'd like to find +out where he lives. Who would be likely to know?" + +"The head waiter ought to be able to tell you," was the reply, +accompanied by the flash of what Carroll swore to be the whitest teeth +he had ever seen. "Just a moment and I will get him on the wire for +you." Then, after a pause, "Booth Number Five, please." + +But Carroll got no satisfaction from that source, either. The head +waiter maintained that he knew nothing of Felix's whereabouts and hung +up the receiver in a manner which was distinctly final, not to say +impolite. The very air of mystery that surrounded the missing man was +sufficient to incline him to the belief that, after all, there might be +something to the idea that Felix was the man he had shot at the night +before. In that event, it was practically certain that Lord Wimbledon +was the object of the Germans' attention--but that didn't solve the +question of where the bomb was to be placed, nor the location of +"Conner's." + +"Just the same," he muttered, half aloud, "I'm going to stick around +here to-night." + +"Why that momentous decision?" came a voice almost at his elbow, a voice +which startled and charmed him with its inflection. + +Looking up, he caught the eyes of the pretty telephone girl, laughing at +him. + +"Talking to yourself is a bad habit," she warned him with a smile which +seemed to hold an apology for her brusqueness of the night before, +"particularly in your business." + +"My business?" echoed Dave. "What do you know about that?" + +"Not a thing in the world--except," and here her voice dropped to a +whisper--"except that you are a government detective and that you've +discovered something about Lord Wimbledon, probably some plot against +His Lordship." + +"Where--how--what in the world made you think that?" stammered Carroll, +almost gasping for breath. + +"Very simple," replied the girl. "Quite elementary, as Sherlock Holmes +used to say. You called the headquarters number every night when you +came down--the other girls tipped me off to that, for they know that I'm +fond of detective stories. Then everybody around here knows that Felix, +the waiter that you inquired about, is really German, though he pretends +to be Swiss, and that he, the head waiter, and the pastry cook are thick +as thieves." + +"You'd hardly expect me to say 'Yes,' would you? Particularly as I am +supposed to be a government operative." + +"Now I know you are," smiled the girl. "Very few people use the word +'operative.' They'd say 'detective' or 'agent.' But don't worry, I won't +give you away." + +"Please don't," laughed Carroll, half banteringly, half in earnest, for +it would never do to have it leak out that a girl had not only +discovered his identity, but his mission. Then, as an after-thought, "Do +you happen to know of any hotel or place here in town known as +'Conner's'?" he asked. + +"Why, of course," was the reply, amazing in its directness. "The +manager's name--" But then she halted abruptly, picked up a plug, and +said, "What number, please?" into the receiver. + +Carroll sensed that there was a reason for her stopping in the middle of +her sentence and, looking around, found the pussy-footed head waiter +beside him, apparently waiting for a call. Silently damning the custom +that made it obligatory for waiters to move without making a sound, +Carroll wandered off across the lobby, determined to take a stroll +around the block before settling down to his night's vigil. A stop at +the information desk, however, rewarded him with the news that Lord +Wimbledon was giving a dinner in his apartments the following evening to +the British ambassador--that being all the hotel knew officially about +his Grace's movements. + +"I'll take care to have half a dozen extra men on the job," Carroll +assured himself, "for that's undoubtedly the time they would pick if +they could get away with it. A single bomb then would do a pretty bit of +damage." + +The evening brought no further developments, but shortly after midnight +he determined to call the Rennoc, in the hope that the pretty telephone +girl was still on duty and that she might finish telling him what she +knew of Conner's. + +"Hotel Rennoc," came a voice which he recognized instantly. + +"This is Dave Carroll speaking," said the operative. "Can you tell me +now what it was you started to say about Conner's?" + +"Not now," came the whispered reply. Then, in a louder voice, "Just a +moment, please, and I'll see if he's registered." During the pause which +followed Dave realized that the girl must be aware that she was watched +by some one. Was it the silent-moving head waiter? + +"No, he hasn't arrived yet," was the next phrase that came over the +wires, clearly and distinctly, followed by instructions, couched in a +much lower tone, "Meet me, Drive entrance, one-five sure," and then a +click as the plug was withdrawn. + +It was precisely five minutes past one when Carroll paused in front of +the Riverside Drive doorway to the Rennoc, considering it the part of +discretion to keep on the opposite side of the driveway. A moment later +a woman, alone, left the hotel, glanced around quickly, and then crossed +to where he was standing. + +"Follow me up the street," she directed in an undertone as she passed. +"Michel has been watching like a hawk." + +Dave knew that Michel was the head waiter, and out of the corner of his +eye he saw a shadow slip out of another of the hotel doorways, farther +down the Drive, and start toward them. But when he looked around a +couple of blocks farther up the drive, there was no one behind them. + +"Why all the mystery?" he inquired, as he stepped alongside the girl. + +"Something's afoot in the Rennoc," she replied, "and they think I +suspect what it is and have told you about it. Michel hasn't taken his +eyes off me all evening. I heard him boast one night that he could read +lips, so I didn't dare tell you anything when you called up, even though +he was across the lobby. Conner's, the place you asked about, is the +Rennoc. Spell it backward. Conner is the manager--hence the name of the +hotel." + +"Then," said Carroll, "that means that they've got a plan under way to +bomb Lord Wimbledon and probably the British ambassador at that dinner +to-morrow evening. I overheard one of them say last night that a bomb, +arranged to explode at the slightest pressure, would be placed in the--" +and then he stopped. + +"In the cake!" gasped the girl, as if by intuition. But her next words +showed that her deduction had a more solid foundation. "This is to be a +birthday dinner, in honor of Lord Percy Somebody who's in Lord +Wimbledon's party, as well as in honor of Lord Cecil. The pastry cook, +who's almost certainly mixed up in the plot, has plenty of opportunity +to put the bomb there, where it would never be suspected. The instant +they cut the cake--" + +But her voice trailed off in midair as something solid came down on her +head with a crash. At the same moment Dave was sent reeling by a blow +from a blackjack, a blow which sent him spinning across the curb and +into the street. He was dimly aware that two men were leaping toward him +and that a third was attacking the telephone girl. + +Panting, gasping, fighting for time in which to clear his head of the +effects of the first blow, Carroll fought cautiously, but desperately, +realizing that his opponents desired to avoid gun-play for fear of +attracting the police. A straight left to the jaw caught one of the men +coming in and knocked him sprawling, but the second, whom Carroll +recognized as Michel, was more wary. He dodged and feinted with the +skill of a professional boxer, and then launched an uppercut which went +home on the point of Dave's jaw. + +It was at that moment that the operative became aware of another +participant in the fray--a figure in white with what appeared to be a +halo of gold around her head. The thought flashed through his mind that +he must be dreaming, but he had sense enough left to leap aside when a +feminine voice called "Look out!" and the arc light glinted off the +blade of a knife as it passed perilously close to his ribs. Then the +figure in white brought something down on Michel's head and, wheeling, +seized the wrist of the third man in a grip of iron. + +Ten seconds later the entire trio was helpless and Carroll was blowing a +police whistle for assistance. + +"There was really nothing to it at all," protested the telephone girl, +during the ride in the patrol. "They made the mistake of trying to let +Felix, with his wounded hand, take care of me. I didn't have two years +of gym work and a complete course in jiu jitsu for nothing, and that +blackjack came in mighty handy a moment or two later. All Felix +succeeded in doing was to knock my hat off, and I shed my coat the +instant I had attended to him." + +"That's why I thought you were a goddess in white," murmured Dave. + +"No goddess at all, just a girl from the switchboard who was glad to +have a chance at the brutes. Anyhow, that few minutes beats any book I +ever read for action!" + +Dave's hand stole out in the darkness as they jolted forward, and when +it found what it was seeking, "Girl," he said, "do you realize that I +don't even know your name?" + +"Lang," said a voice in the dark. "My friends call me Virginia." + +"After what you just did for me, I think we ought to be at least good +friends," laughed Carroll, and the thrill of the fight which has just +passed was as nothing when she answered: + +"At least that ... Dave!" + + * * * * * + +Quinn paused for a moment to repack his pipe and I took advantage of the +interruption to ask what happened at the Wimbledon dinner the following +night. + +"Not a thing in the world," replied Quinn. "Everything went off like +clockwork--everything but the bomb. As the Podunk _Gazette_ would say, +'A very pleasant time was had by all.' But you may be sure that they +were careful to examine the cake and the other dishes before they were +sampled by the guests. Michel, Felix, and the cook were treated to a +good dose of the third degree at headquarters, but without results. They +wouldn't even admit that they knew any such person as 'Number +Eight-fifty-nine' or von Ewald. Two of them got off with light sentences +for assault and battery. The pastry cook, however, went to the pen when +they found a quantity of high explosives in his room." + +"And Miss Lang?" + +"If you care to look up the marriage licenses for October, nineteen +sixteen, you'll find that one was issued in the names of David Carroll +and Virginia Lang. She's the wife of a captain now, for Dave left the +Service the following year and went to France to finish his fight with +the Hun. I saw him not long ago and the only thing that's worrying him +is where he is going to find his quota of excitement, for he says that +there is nothing left in the Service but chasing counterfeiters and +guarding the resident, and he can't stand the idea of staying in the +army and drawing his pay for wearing a uniform." + + + + +XI + +"LOST--$100,000!" + + +"I stopped on my way here to-night and laid in a supply of something +that I don't often use--chewing gum," said Bill Quinn, formerly of the +Secret Service, as he settled back comfortably to enjoy an evening's +chat. "There are some professional reformers who maintain that the great +American habit of silently working the jaws over a wad of chewing gum is +harmful in the extreme, but if you'll look into the matter you'll find +that agitators of that type want you to cut out all habits except those +which they are addicted to. + +"Personally, I'm not a habitual worshiper at the shrine of the great god +Goom, but there's no use denying the fact that it does soothe one's +nerves occasionally. Incidentally, it has other uses--as Elmer Allison +discovered not very long ago." + +"Yes?" I inquired, sensing the fact that Quinn had a story up his sleeve +and was only awaiting the opportunity to spring it. "Didn't you mention +a post-office case in which a wad of gum played a prominent role?" + +"That's the one," said the former government operative, easing his +wounded leg into a less cramped position. "Here, have a couple of sticks +just to get the proper atmosphere and I'll see if I can recall the +details." + + * * * * * + +For some reason that's hard to define [Quinn went on, after he had +peeled two of the dun-colored sticks and commenced work on them] crooks +in general and amateur crooks in particular seem to regard the United +States mails as particularly easy prey. Possibly they figure that, as +millions of dollars are handled by the Post-office Department every +year, a little here and there won't be missed. But if they knew the high +percentage of mail robberies that are solved they wouldn't be so keen to +tackle the game. + +Lifting valuables, once they have passed into the hands of Uncle Sam's +postman, is a comparatively easy crime to commit. There are dozens of +ways of doing it--methods which range all the way from fishing letters +out of a post-box with a piece of string and a hairpin, to holding up +the mail car in a deserted portion of a railroad track. But getting away +with it is, as our Yiddish friends say, something else again. + +The annals of the Postal Inspection Service are filled with incidents +which indicate that the High Cost of Living is down around zero compared +to the High Cost of Crime, when said crime is aimed at the mails. There +are scores of men in Atlanta, Leavenworth, and other Federal prisons +whose advice would be to try murder, forgery, or arson rather than +attempt to earn a dishonest living by stealing valuable letters. + +The majority of persons realize that it pays to register their money and +insure their packages because, once this precaution has been attended +to, the government exercises special care in the handling of these and +makes it extremely difficult for crooks to get anywhere near them. If a +registered letter disappears there is a clean-cut trail of signed +receipts to follow and somebody has to bear the burden of the loss. But +even with these precautions, the Registered Section is looted every now +and then. + +One of the biggest cases of this kind on record was that which occurred +in Columbus when letters with an aggregate value of one hundred thousand +dollars just vanished into thin air. Of course, they didn't all +disappear at one time, but that made it all the more mysterious--because +the thefts were spread out over a period of some five or six weeks and +they went on, just as regularly as clockwork, in spite of the +precautions to the contrary. + +The first of the losses, as I recall it, was a shipment of ten thousand +dollars in large bills sent by a Chicago bank to a financial concern in +Columbus. When working on that single case, of course, the officials of +the department were more or less in the dark as to the precise place +that the disappearance had taken place, in spite of the fact that there +were the usual signed slips indicating that the package had been +received at the Columbus Post Office. But clerks who are in a hurry +sometimes sign receipts without being any too careful to check up the +letters or packages to which they refer--a highly reprehensible +practice, but one which is the outgrowth of the shortage of help. It was +quite within the bounds of possibility, for example, for the package to +have been abstracted from the Chicago office without the loss being +discovered until Columbus checked up on the mail which was due there. + +But a week or ten days later came the second of the mysterious +disappearances--another envelope containing bills of large denomination, +this time en route from Pittsburgh to Columbus. When a third loss +occurred the following fortnight, the headquarters of the Postal +Inspection Service in Washington became distinctly excited and every man +who could be spared was turned loose in an effort to solve the problem. +Orders were given to shadow all the employees who had access to the +registered mail with a view to discovering whether they had made any +change in their personal habits, whether they had displayed an unusual +amount of money within the past month, or whether their family had shown +signs of exceptional prosperity. + +It was while the chief was waiting for these reports that Elmer Allison +blew into Washington unexpectedly and strolled into the room in the big +gray-stone tower of what was then the Post-office Department Building, +with the news that he had solved the "poison-pen case" in Kansas City +and was ready to tackle something else. + +The chief, to put it mildly, was surprised and inquired why in the name +of the seven hinges of Hades Allison hadn't made his report directly to +the office by mail. + +"That was a pretty important case, Chief," Elmer replied, "and I didn't +want to take any chances of the findings being lost in the registered +mail." Then, grinning, he continued, "Understand you've been having a +bit of trouble out in Columbus?" + +"Who told you about that?" growled the chief. + +"Oh, you can't keep things like that under your hat even if you do +succeed in keeping them out of the papers," retorted Allison. "A little +bird tipped me off to it three weeks ago and--" + +"And you determined to leap back here as soon as you could so that you +would be assigned to the case, eh?" + +"You guessed it, Chief. I wanted a try at the Columbus affair and I was +afraid I wouldn't get it unless I put the matter personally up to you. +How 'bout it?" + +"As it happens, you lost about two days of valuable time in coming here, +instead of wiring for further instructions from Kansas City," the chief +told him. "I had intended taking you off that anonymous letter case by +noon to-morrow, whether you'd finished it or not, for this is a far more +important detail. Somebody's gotten away with fifty thousand dollars so +far, and there's no--" + +"Pardon me, sir, but here's a wire which has just arrived from Rogers, +in Columbus. Thought you'd like to see it at once," and the chief's +secretary laid a yellow slip face upward on his desk. Allison, who was +watching closely, saw a demonstration of the reason why official +Washington maintained that the chief of the Postal Inspection Service +had the best "poker face" in the capital. Not a muscle in his +countenance changed as he read the telegram and then glanced up at +Allison, continuing his sentence precisely where he had been +interrupted: + +"Reason to suppose that the thief is going to stop there. This wire from +Rogers, the postmaster at Columbus, announces the loss of a fourth +package of bills. Fifty thousand this time. That's the biggest yet and +it brings the total deficit up to one hundred thousand dollars. Rogers +says that the banks are demanding instant action and threatening to take +the case to headquarters, which means that it'll spread all over the +papers. Congress will start an investigation, some of us will lose our +official heads, and, in the mix-up, the man who's responsible for the +losses will probably make a clean getaway." + +Then, with a glance at the clock which faced his desk, "There's a train +for Columbus in twenty minutes, Allison. Can you make it?" + +"It's less than ten minutes to the station," replied the operative. +"That gives me plenty of leeway." + +"Well, move and move fast," snapped the chief. "I'll wire Columbus that +you've been given complete charge of the case; but try to keep it away +from the papers as long as you can. The department has come in for +enough criticism lately without complicating the issue from the +outside. Good luck." And Allison was out of the door almost before he +had finished speaking. + +Allison reached Columbus that night, but purposely delayed reporting for +work until the following morning. In the first place there was no +telling how long the case would run and he felt that it was the part of +wisdom to get all the rest he could in order to start fresh. The +"poison-pen" puzzle hadn't been exactly easy to solve, and his visit to +Washington, though brief, had been sufficiently long for him to absorb +some of the nervous excitement which permeated the department. Then, +too, he figured that Postmaster Rogers would be worn out by another day +of worry and that both of them would be the better for a night's +undisturbed sleep. + +Nine o'clock the next morning, however, saw him seated in one of the +comfortable chairs which adorned the postmaster's private office. +Rogers, who did not put in an appearance until ten, showed plainly the +results of the strain under which he was laboring, for he was a +political appointee who had been in office only a comparatively short +time, a man whose temperament resented the attacks launched by the +opposition and who felt that publication of the facts connected with the +lost one hundred thousand dollars would spell ruin, both to his own +hopes and those of the local organization. + +Allison found that the chief had wired an announcement of his coming the +day before and that Rogers was almost pitifully relieved to know that +the case was in the hands of the man who had solved nearly a score of +the problems which had arisen in the Service during the past few years. + +"How much do you know about the case?" inquired the postmaster. + +"Only what I learned indirectly and from what the chief told me," was +Allison's reply. "I understand that approximately one hundred thousand +dollars is missing from this post office" (here Rogers instinctively +winced as he thought of the criticism which this announcement would +cause if it were made outside the office), "but I haven't any of the +details." + +"Neither have we, unfortunately," was the answer. "If we had had a few +more we might have been able to prevent the last theft. You know about +that, of course." + +"The fifty thousand dollars? Yes. The chief told me that you had wired." + +"Well, that incident is typical of the other three. Banks in various +parts of the country have been sending rather large sums of money +through the mails to their correspondents here. There's nothing unusual +in that at this time of the year. But within the past five or six weeks +there have been four packages--or, rather, large envelopes--of money +which have failed to be accounted for. They ranged all the way from ten +thousand dollars, the first loss, to the fifty thousand dollars which +disappeared within the past few days. I purposely delayed wiring +Washington until we could make a thorough search of the whole place, +going over the registry room with a fine-tooth comb--" + +"Thus warning every man in it that he was under suspicion," muttered +Allison. + +"What was that?" Rogers inquired. + +"Nothing--nothing at all. Just talking to myself. Far from a good habit, +but don't mind it. I've got some queer ones. You didn't find anything, +of course?" + +"In the building? No, not a thing. But I thought it best to make a +thorough clean-up here before I bothered Washington with a report." + +"What about the men who've been working on the case up to this time?" + +"Not one of them has been able to turn up anything that could be +dignified by the term clue, as I believe you detectives call it." + +"Yes, that's the right word," agreed the operative. "At least all +members of the Detective-Story-Writers' Union employ it frequently +enough to make it fit the case. What lines have Boyd and the other men +here been following?" + +"At my suggestion they made a careful examination into the private lives +of all employees of the post-office, including myself," Rogers answered, +a bit pompously. "I did not intend to evade the slightest responsibility +in the matter, so I turned over my bankbook, the key to my safe-deposit +vault and even allowed them to search my house from cellar to garret." + +"Was this procedure followed with respect to all the other employees in +the building?" + +"No, only one or two of the highest--personal friends of mine whom I +could trust to keep silent. I didn't care to swear out search warrants +for the residences of all the people who work here, and that's what it +would have meant if they had raised any objection. In their cases the +investigation was confined to inquiries concerning their expenditures in +the neighborhood, unexpected prosperity, and the like." + +"With what result?" + +"None at all. From all appearances there isn't a soul in this building +who has had ten cents more during the past six weeks than he possessed +in any like period for two years back." + +"Did Boyd or any of the other department operatives ask to see the plans +of the post office?" inquired Allison, taking another tack. + +"The what?" + +"The plans of the post-office--the blue print prepared at the time that +the building was erected." + +"No. Why should they?" + +"I thought they might have been interested in it, that's all," was +Allison's answer, but anyone who knew him would have noted that his tone +was just a trifle too nonchalant to be entirely truthful. + +"By the way," added the operative, "might I see it?" + +"The blue print?" + +"Yes. You will probably find it in the safe. If you'll have some one +look it up, I'll be back in half an hour to examine it," said Allison. +"Meanwhile, I'll talk to Boyd and the other men already on the ground +and see if I can dig anything out of what they've discovered." + +But Boyd and his associates were just as relieved as Rogers had been to +find that the case had been placed in Allison's hands. Four weeks and +more of steady work had left them precisely where they had +commenced--"several miles back of that point," as one of them admitted, +"for three more stunts have been pulled off right under our eyes." The +personal as well as the official record of every man and woman in the +Columbus post office had been gone over with a microscope, without the +slightest result. If the germ of dishonesty was present, it was +certainly well hidden. + +"We'll try another and more powerful lens," Allison stated, as he turned +back to the postmaster's private office. "By the way, Boyd, have you or +any of your men been in the Service more than four years?" + +"No, I don't think any of us has. What has that got to do with it?" + +"Not a thing in the world, as far as your ability is concerned, but +there is one point that every one of you overlooked--because you never +heard of it. I'm going to try it out myself now and I'll let you know +what develops." + +With that Allison turned and sauntered back into Rogers's office. + +There, spread upon the desk, was the missing blue print, creased and +dusty from disuse. + +"First time you ever saw this, eh?" Allison inquired of the postmaster. + +"The first time I even knew it was there," admitted that official. +"How'd you know where to find it?" + +"I didn't--but there's an ironclad rule of the department that plans of +this nature are to be kept under lock and key for just such emergencies +as this. But I guess your predecessor was too busy to worry you with +details." + +Rogers grunted. It was an open secret that the postmaster who had +preceded him had not been any too friendly to his successor. + +Allison did not pursue the subject but spread the plan upon an +unoccupied table so that he could examine it with care. + +"If you'll be good enough to lock that door, Postmaster," he directed, +"I'll show you something else about your building that you didn't know. +But I don't want anybody else coming in while we're discussing it." + +Puzzled, but feeling that the government detective ought to be allowed +to handle things in his own way, Rogers turned the key in the lock and +came over to the table where Allison stood. + +"Do you see that little square marked with a white star and the letter +'L'?" asked Elmer. + +"Yes, what is it?" + +"What is this large room next to it?" countered the operative. + +"That's the--why, that's the registry room!" + +"Precisely. And concealed in the wall in a spot known only to persons +familiar with this blue print, is a tiny closet, or 'lookout.' That's +what the 'L' means and that's the reason that there's a strict rule +about guarding plans of this nature very carefully." + +"You mean to say that a place has been provided for supervision of the +registry division--a room from which the clerks can be watched without +their knowledge?" + +"Exactly--and such a precaution has been taken in practically every post +office of any size in the country. Only the older men in the Service +know about it, which is the reason that neither Boyd nor any of his men +asked to see this set of plans. The next step is to find the key to the +lookout and start in on a very monotonous spell of watchful waiting. You +have the bunch of master keys, of course?" + +"Yes, they're in the safe where the plans were kept. Just a moment and +I'll get them." + +When Rogers produced the collection of keys, Allison ran hurriedly over +them and selected one which bore, on the handle, a small six-pointed +star corresponding to the mark on the blue print. + +"Want to go up with me and investigate the secret chamber?" he inquired. + +"I certainly do," agreed Rogers. "But there's one point where this room +won't help us in the slightest. How did the thief get the mail +containing the money out of the building? You know the system that +maintains in the registry room? It's practically impossible for a sheet +of paper to be taken out of there, particularly when we are on guard, as +we are now." + +"That's true," Allison admitted, "but it's been my experience that +problems which appear the most puzzling are, after all, the simplest of +explanation. You remember the Philadelphia mint robbery--the one that +Drummond solved in less than six hours? This may prove to be just as +easy." + +There Allison was wrong, dead wrong--as he had to admit some ten days +later, when, worn with the strain of sitting for hours at a time with +his eyes glued to the ventilator which masked the opening to the +lookout, he finally came to the conclusion that something would have to +be done to speed things up. It was true that no new robberies had +occurred in the meantime, but neither had any of the old ones been +punished. The lost one hundred thousand dollars was still lost; though +the department, with the aid of the Treasury officials, had seen that +the banks were reimbursed. + +"The decoy letter," thought Allison, "is probably the oldest dodge in +the world. But, who knows, it may work again in this case--provided we +stage-manage it sufficiently carefully." + +With the assistance of the cashier of one of the local banks Elmer +arranged to have a dummy package of money forwarded by mail from New +York. It was supposed to contain thirty-five thousand dollars in cash, +and all the formalities were complied with precisely as if thirty-five +thousand-dollar bills were really inside the envelope, instead of as +many sheets of blank paper carefully arranged. + +On the morning of the day the envelope was due to reach Columbus, +Allison took up his position close to the grille in the lookout, his +eyes strained to catch the slightest suspicious movement below. Hour +after hour passed uneventfully until, almost immediately below him, he +saw a man drop something on the floor. Two envelopes had slipped from +his hands and he stooped to pick them up--that was all. + +But what carried a thrill to the operative in the lookout was the fact +that one of the envelopes was the dummy sent from New York and that, +when the man straightened up, he had only _one_ of the two in his hands. +The dummy had disappeared! + +Allison rubbed his eyes and looked again. No, he was right. The postal +clerk had, in some manner, disposed of the envelope supposed to contain +thirty-five thousand dollars and he was going about his work in +precisely the same way as before. + +"Wait a minute," Allison argued to himself. "There's something missing +besides the envelope! What is it?" + +A moment later he had the clue to the whole affair--the jaws of the +clerk, which Allison had previously and subconsciously noted were always +hard at work on a wad of gum, now were at rest for the first time since +the operative had entered the lookout! The chewing gum and the dummy +packet had disappeared at the same time! + +It didn't take Elmer more than thirty seconds to reach Rogers's office, +and he entered with the startling announcement that "an envelope +containing thirty-five thousand dollars had just disappeared from the +registry room." + +"What?" demanded the postmaster. "How do you know? I haven't received +any report of it." + +"No, and you probably wouldn't for some time," Elmer retorted. "But it +happens that I saw it disappear." + +"Then you know where it is?" + +"I can lay my hands on it--and probably the rest of the missing +money--inside of one minute. Let's pay a visit to the registry room." + +Before entering the section, however, Allison took the precaution of +posting men at both of the doors. + +"After I'm inside," he directed, "don't allow anyone to leave on any +pretext whatever. And stand ready for trouble in case it develops. Come +on, Mr. Rogers." + +Once in the room devoted to the handling of registered mail, Allison +made directly for the desk under the lookout. The occupant regarded +their approach with interest but, apparently, without a trace of +anxiety. + +"I'd like to have that letter supposed to contain thirty-five thousand +dollars which you dropped on the floor a few moments ago," Elmer +remarked in a quiet, almost conversational tone. + +Except for a sudden start, the clerk appeared the picture of innocence. + +"What letter?" he parried. + +"You know what one!" snapped Allison, dropping his suave manner and +moving his hand significantly toward his coat pocket. "Will you produce +it--or shall I?" + +"I--I don't know what you are talking about," stammered the clerk. + +"No? Well, I'll show you!" and the operative's hands flashed forward and +there was a slight click as a pair of handcuffs snapped into place. +"Now, Mr. Rogers, you'll be good enough to watch me carefully, as your +evidence will probably be needed in court. I'll show you as simple and +clever a scheme as I've ever run across." + +With that Allison dropped to the floor, wormed his way under the +table-desk, tugged at something for a moment and then rose, holding five +large envelopes in his hands! + +"There's your lost one hundred thousand dollars," he explained, "and a +dummy packet of thirty-five thousand dollars to boot. Thought you could +get away with it indefinitely, eh?" he inquired of the handcuffed clerk. +"If you'd stopped with the one hundred thousand dollars, as you'd +probably intended to do, you might have. But that extra letter turned +the trick. Too bad it contained only blank paper"--and he ripped the +envelope open to prove his assertion. + +"But--but--I don't understand," faltered Rogers. "How did this man work +it right under our eyes?" + +"He didn't," declared Allison. "He tried to work it right under mine, +but he couldn't get away with it. The plan was simplicity itself. He'd +slip an envelope which he knew contained a large sum of money out of the +pile as it passed him--he hadn't signed for them, so he wasn't taking +any special risk--drop it on the floor, stoop over, and, if he wasn't +being watched, attach it to the _bottom_ of his desk with a wad of +chewing gum. You boasted that you went over the room with a fine-tooth +comb, but who would think of looking on the under side of this table. +The idea, of course, was that he'd wait for the storm to blow +over--because the letters could remain in their hiding places for +months, if necessary--and then start on a lifelong vacation with his +spoils as capital. But he made the error of overcapitalization and I +very much fear that he'll put in at least ten years at Leavenworth or +Morgantown. But I'd like to bet he never chews another piece of gum!" + + * * * * * + +"That," continued Quinn, as he tossed another pink wrapper into the +wastebasket, "I consider the simplest and cleverest scheme to beat the +government that I ever heard of--better even than Cochrane's plan in +connection with the robbery of the Philadelphia mint, because it didn't +necessitate any outside preparation at all. The right job, a piece of +gum, and there you are. But you may be sure that whenever an important +letter disappears nowadays, one of the first places searched by the +Postal Inspection operatives is the lower side of the desks and tables. +You can't get away with a trick twice in the same place." + + + + +XII + +"THE DOUBLE CODE" + + +It was one night in early fall that Bill Quinn and I were browsing +around the library in the house that he had called "home" ever since a +counterfeiter's bullet incapacitated him from further active work in the +Secret Service. Prior to that time he had lived, as he put it, "wherever +he hung his hat," but now there was a comfortable little house with a +den where Quinn kept the more unusual, and often gruesome, relics which +brought back memories of the past. + +There, hanging on the wall with a dark-brown stain still adorning the +razorlike edge, was a Chinese hatchet which had doubtless figured in +some tong war on the Coast. Below was an ordinary twenty-five-cent +piece, attached to the wall paper with chewing gum--"just as it once +aided in robbing the Treasury of nearly a million dollars," Quinn +assured me. In another part of the room was a frame containing what +appeared to be a bit torn from the wrapping of a package, with the +canceled stamp and a half-obliterated postmark as the only clues to the +murder of the man who had received it, and, beside the bookcases, which +contained a wide range of detective literature, hung a larger frame in +which were the finger prints of more than a score of criminals, men +bearing names practically unknown to the public, but whose exploits were +bywords in the various governmental detective services. + +It was while glancing over the contents of the bookcase that I noted one +volume which appeared strangely out of place in this collection of the +fictional romances of crime. + +"What's this doing here?" I inquired, taking down a volume of _The Giant +Raft_, by Jules Verne. "Verne didn't write detective stories, did he?" + +"No," replied Quinn, "and it's really out of place in the bookcase. If +possible, I'd like to have it framed and put on the wall with the rest +of the relics--for it's really more important than any of them, from the +standpoint of value to the nation. That quarter on the wall over +there--the one which figured in the Sugar Fraud case--cost the +government in the neighborhood of a million dollars, but this book +probably saved a score of millions and hundreds of lives as well. If it +hadn't been for the fact that Thurber of the Navy Department knew his +Jules Vernes even better than he did his Bible, it's quite possible +that-- + +"Well, there's no use telling the end of the story before the beginning. +Make yourself comfortable and I'll see if I can recall the details of +the case." + + * * * * * + +Remember Dr. Heinrich Albert? [Quinn inquired, after we had both +stretched out in front of the open fire]. Theoretically, the Herr Doktor +was attached to the German embassy in Washington merely in an advisory +and financial capacity. He and Haniel von Heimhausen--the same counselor +that the present German government wanted to send over here as +ambassador after the signing of the peace treaty--were charged with the +solution of many of the legal difficulties which arose in connection +with the business of the big red brick dwelling on Massachusetts Avenue. +But while von Heimhausen was occupied with the legal end of the game, +Doctor Albert attended to many of the underground details which went +unsuspected for many years. + +It was he, for example, who managed the bidding for the wireless station +in the Philippines--the plan which permitted the German government to +dictate the location of the station and to see to it that the towers +were so placed where they would be most useful to Berlin. He undoubtedly +worked with von Papen and Boy-Ed during the early years of the +war--years in which this precious trio, either with or without the +knowledge of Count von Bernstorff, sought by every means to cripple +American shipping, violate American neutrality, and make a laughingstock +of American diplomatic methods. What's more, they got away with it for +months, not because the Secret Service and the Department of Justice +weren't hot on their trail, but because the Germans were too cagy to be +caught and you can't arrest a diplomat just on suspicion. + +During the months which followed the first of August, nineteen fourteen, +practically every one of the government's detective services was called +upon in some way to pry into the affairs of the embassy staff. But the +brunt of the work naturally devolved upon the two organizations directly +concerned with preventing flagrant breaches of neutrality--the Secret +Service and the Department of Justice. + +Every time that Doctor Albert, or any other official of the German +government, left Washington he was trailed by anywhere from one to five +men. Every move he made was noted and reported to headquarters, with the +result that the State Department had a very good idea of the names of +the men who were being used to forward Germany's ends, even though it +knew comparatively little about what was actually planned. The attaches +were entirely too clever to carry on compromising conversations in the +open, and their appointments were made in such a manner as effectually +to prevent the planting of a dictaphone or any other device by which +they might be overheard. + +The directions to the men who were responsible for the working of the +two Services were: + + Every attache of the German embassy is to be guarded with + extreme care, day and night. Reports are to be made through + the usual channels and, in the event that something unusual + is observed, Divisional Headquarters is to be notified + instantly, the information being transmitted to Washington + before any final action is taken. + +This last clause, of course, was inserted to prevent some hot-headed +operative from going off half-cocked and thus spoiling the State +Department's plans. As long as Albert and his associates were merely +"guarded" they couldn't enter any formal complaint. But, given half a +chance, they would have gotten on their official dignity and demanded +that the espionage cease. + +From the State Department's point of view it was an excellent rule, but +Gene Barlow and the other Service men assigned to follow Albert couldn't +see it in that light. + +"What's the idea, anyhow?" Gene growled one night as his pet taxicab +dashed down Massachusetts Avenue in the wake of the big touring car that +was carrying the German attache to the Union Station. "Here we have to +be on the job at all hours, just to watch this Dutchman and see what he +does. And," with a note of contempt, "he never does anything worth +reporting. Sees half a dozen people, lunches at the German-American +Club, drops in at two or three offices downtown, and then back here +again. If they'd only let us waylay him and get hold of that black bag +that he always carts around there'd be nothing to it. Some day I'm +going to do that little thing, just to see what happens." + +But Barlow took it out in threats. Secret Service men find pleasure in +stating what they are going to do "some day"--but the quality of +implicit obedience has been drilled into them too thoroughly for them to +forget it, which is possibly the reason why they take such a sheer and +genuine delight in going ahead when the restrictions are finally lifted. + +It was in New York, more than two years after the war had commenced, +that Barlow got his first opportunity to "see what would happen." In the +meantime, he had been assigned to half a dozen other cases, but always +returned to the shadowing of Doctor Albert because he was the one man +who had been eminently successful in that work. The German had an almost +uncanny habit of throwing his pursuers off the trail whenever he wanted +to and in spite of the efforts of the cleverest men in the Service had +disappeared from time to time. The resumption of unrestricted submarine +warfare and the delicacy of the diplomatic situation which ensued made +it imperative that the "man with the saber scar," as Doctor Albert was +known, be kept constantly under surveillance. + +"Stick to him, Gene, and don't bother about reporting until you are +certain that he will stay put long enough for you to phone," were the +instructions that Barlow received. "The doctor must be watched every +moment that he's away from the Embassy and it's up to you to do it." + +"Anything else beside watching him?" inquired the operative, hopefully. + +"No," smiled the chief, "there isn't to be any rough stuff. We're on the +verge of an explosion as it is, and anyone who pulls the hair trigger +will not only find himself out of a job, but will have the doubtful +satisfaction of knowing that he's responsible for wrecking some very +carefully laid plans. Where Albert goes, who he talks with and, if +possible, a few details of what they discuss, is all that's wanted." + +"Wouldn't like to have a piece of the Kaiser's mustache or anything of +that kind, would you, Chief?" Barlow retorted. "I could get that for you +a whole lot easier than I could find out what the man with the saber +scar talks about. He's the original George B. Careful. Never was known +to take a chance. Wouldn't bet a nickel against a hundred dollars that +the sun would come up to-morrow and always sees to it that his +conferences are held behind bolted doors. They even pull down the shades +so that no lip reader with a pair of field glasses can get a tip as to +what they're talking about." + +"That's the reason you were picked for this case," was the chief's +reply. "Any strong-arm man could whale Albert over the head and throw +him in the river. That wouldn't help any. What we need is information +concerning what his plans are, and it takes a clever man to get that." + +"All bull and a yard wide!" laughed Gene, but the compliment pleased +him, nevertheless. "I'll watch him, but let me know when the lid comes +off and I can use other methods." + +The chief promised that he would--and it was not more than three weeks +later that he had an opportunity to make good. + +"Barlow," he directed, speaking over the long-distance phone to the +operative in New York, "the Department of Justice has just reported that +Doctor Albert is in receipt of a document of some kind--probably a +letter of instruction from Berlin--which it is vital that we have at +once. Our information is that the message is written on a slip of oiled +paper carried inside a dummy lead pencil. It's possible that the doctor +has destroyed it, but it isn't probable. Can you get it?" + +"How far am I allowed to go?" inquired Gene, hoping for permission to +stage a kidnaping of the German attache, but fully expecting these +instructions which followed--orders that he was to do nothing that would +cause an open breach, nothing for which Doctor Albert could demand +reparation or even an apology. + +"In other words," Barlow said to himself, as he hung up the phone, "I'm +to accomplish the impossible, blindfolded and with my hands tied. Wonder +whether Paula would have a hunch--" + +Paula was Barlow's sweetheart, a pretty little brunette who earned a +very good salary as private secretary to one of the leading lights of +Wall Street--which accounted for the fact that the operative had learned +to rely upon her quick flashes of intuitive judgment for help in a +number of situations which had required tact as well as action. They +were to be married whenever Gene's professional activities subsided +sufficiently to allow him to remain home at least one night a month, +but, meanwhile, Paula maintained that she would as soon be the wife of +an African explorer--"Because at least I would know that he wouldn't be +back for six months, while I haven't any idea whether you'll be out of +town two days or two years." + +After they had talked the Albert matter over from all angles, Paula +inquired, "Where would your friend with the saber scar be likely to +carry the paper?" + +"Either in his pocket or in the black bag that he invariably has with +him." + +"Hum!" she mused, "if it's in his pocket I don't see that there is +anything you can do, short of knocking him down and taking it away from +him, and that's barred by the rules of the game. But if it is in the +mysterious black bag.... Is the doctor in town now?" + +"Yes, he's at the Astor, probably for two or three days. I left Dwyer +and French on guard there while I, presumably, snatched a little sleep. +But I'd rather have your advice than any amount of rest." + +"Thanks," was the girl's only comment, for her mind was busy with the +problem. "There's apparently no time to lose, so I'll inform the office +the first thing in the morning that I won't be down, meet you in front +of the Astor, and we'll see what happens. Just let me stick with you, +inconspicuously, and I think that I can guarantee at least an +opportunity to lift the bag without giving the German a chance to raise +a row." + +Thus it was that, early the next day, Gene Barlow was joined by a +distinctly personable young woman who, after a moment's conversation, +strolled up and down Broadway in front of the hotel. + +Some twenty minutes later a man whose face had been disfigured by a +saber slash received at Heidelberg came down the steps and asked for a +taxi. But Barlow, acting under directions from Paula, had seen that +there were no taxis to be had. A flash of his badge and some coin of the +realm had fixed that. So Dr. Heinrich Albert, of the German embassy, was +forced to take a plebeian surface car--as Paula had intended that he +should. The Secret Service operative and his pretty companion boarded +the same car a block farther down, two other government agents having +held it sufficiently long at Forty-fourth Street to permit of this move. + +Worming their way through the crowd when their prey changed to the Sixth +Avenue Elevated, Gene and Paula soon reached points of vantage on either +side of the German, who carried his black bag tightly grasped in his +right hand, and the trio kept this formation until they reached Fiftieth +Street, when the girl apparently started to make her way toward the +door. Something caused her to stumble, however, and she pitched forward +right into the arms of the German, who by that time had secured a seat +and had placed his bag beside him, still guarding it with a protecting +arm. + +Before the foreigner had time to gather his wits, he found himself with +a pretty girl literally in his lap--a girl who was manifestly a lady and +who blushed to the tips of her ears as she apologized for her +awkwardness. Even if the German had been a woman-hater there would have +been nothing for him to do but to assist her to her feet, and that, +necessarily, required the use of both hands. As it happened, Doctor +Albert was distinctly susceptible to feminine charms, and there was +something about this girl's smile which was friendly, though +embarrassed. + +So he spent longer than was strictly essential in helping her to the +door--she appeared to have turned her ankle--and then returned to his +seat only to find that his portfolio was missing! + +Recriminations and threats were useless. A score of people had left the +car and, as the guard heartlessly refused to stop the train before the +next station, there was naturally not a trace of the girl or the man who +had accompanied her. By that time, in fact, Barlow and Paula had slipped +into the shelter of a neighboring hotel lobby and were busy inspecting +the contents of Doctor Albert's precious brief case. + +"Even if there's nothing in it," laughed the girl, "we've had the +satisfaction of scaring him to death." + +Gene said nothing, but pawed through the papers in frantic haste. + +"A slip of oiled paper," he muttered. "By the Lord Harry! here it is!" +and he produced a pencil which his trained fingers told him was lighter +than it should be. With a wrench he broke off the metal tip that held +the eraser, and from within the wooden spindle removed a tightly wrapped +roll of very thin, almost transparent paper, covered with unintelligible +lettering. + +"What's on it?" demanded Paula. + +"I'll never tell you," was Barlow's reply. "It would take a better man +than I am to decipher this," and he read off: + + "I i i t f b b t t x o...." + +"Code?" interrupted the girl. + +"Sure it is--and apparently a peach." The next moment he had slipped the +paper carefully into an inside pocket, crammed the rest of the papers +back into the brief case, and was disappearing into a phone booth. + +"Better get down to work, dear," he called over his shoulder. "I'm going +to report to the office here and then take this stuff down to +Washington!" And that was the last that Paula saw of him for a week. + +Six hours later Barlow entered the chief's office in the Treasury +Department and reported that he had secured the code message. + +"So New York phoned," was the only comment from the man who directed the +destinies of the Secret Service. "Take it right up to the Navy +Department and turn it over to Thurber, the librarian. He'll be able to +read it, if anybody can." + +Thurber, Gene knew, was the man who was recognizedly the leading +authority on military codes and ciphers in the United States, the man +who had made a hobby as well as a business of decoding mysterious +messages and who had finally deciphered the famous "square letter" code, +though it took him months to do it. + +"He'll have to work faster than that this time," thought Barlow, as he +made his way toward the librarian's office on the fourth floor of the +big gray-stone building. "Time's at a premium and Germany moves too fast +to waste any of it." + +But Thurber was fully cognizant of the necessity for quick action. He +had been warned that Barlow was bringing the dispatch and the entire +office was cleared for work. + +Spreading the oiled paper on a table top made of clear glass, the +Librarian turned on a battery of strong electric lights underneath so +that any watermark or secret writing would have been at once apparent. +But there was nothing on the sheet except line after line of meaningless +letters. + +"It's possible, of course, that there may be some writing in invisible +ink on the sheet," admitted the cipher expert. "But the fact that oiled +paper is used would seem to preclude that. The code itself may be any +one of several varieties and it's a matter of trying 'em all until you +hit upon the right one." + +"I thought that Poe's story of 'The Gold Bug' claimed that any cipher +could be read if you selected the letter that appeared most frequently +and substituted for it the letter 'e,' which is used most often in +English, and so on down the list," stated Barlow. + +"So it did. But there are lots of things that Poe didn't know about +codes." Thurber retorted, his eyes riveted to the sheet before him. +"Besides, that was fiction and the author knew just how the code was +constructed, while this is fact and we have to depend upon hard work and +blind luck. + +"There are any number of arbitrary systems which might have been used in +writing this message," he continued. "The army clock code is one of +them--the one in which a number is added to every letter figure, +dependent upon the hour at which the message is written. But I don't +think that applies in this case. The cipher doesn't look like it--though +I'll have to admit that it doesn't look like any that I've come across +before. Let's put it on the blackboard and study it from across the +room. That often helps in concentrating." + +"You're not going to write the whole thing on the board?" queried the +operative. + +"No, only the first fifteen letters or so," and Thurber put down this +line: + + I i i t f b b t t x o r q w s b b + +"Translated into what we call 'letter figures,'" he went on, "that would +be 9 9 9 20 6 2 2 20 20 24 15 18 17 23 19 2 2--the system where 'a' is +denoted by 1, 'b' by 2, and so on. No, that's still meaningless. That +repetition of the letter 'i' at the beginning of the message is what +makes it particularly puzzling. + +"If you don't mind, I'll lock the door and get to work on this in +earnest. Where can I reach you by phone?" + +Barlow smiled at this polite dismissal and, stating that he would be at +headquarters for the rest of the evening and that they would know where +to reach him after that, left the office--decidedly doubtful as to +Thurber's ability to read the message. + +Long after midnight Gene answered a ring from the phone beside his bed +and through a haze of sleep heard the voice of the navy librarian +inquiring if he still had the other papers which had been in Doctor +Albert's bag. + +"No," replied the operative, "but I can get them. They are on top of the +chief's desk. Nothing in them, though. Went over them with a +microscope." + +"Just the same," directed Thurber, "I'd like to have them right away. I +think I'm on the trail, but the message is impossible to decipher unless +we get the code word. It may be in some of the other papers." + +Barlow found the librarian red-eyed from his lack of sleep and the +strain of the concentration over the code letter. But when they had gone +over the papers found in the black bag, even Thurber had to admit that +he was checkmated. + +"Somewhere," he maintained, "is the one word which will solve the whole +thing. I know the type of cipher. It's one that is very seldom used; in +fact, the only reference to it that I know of is in Jules Verne's novel +_The Giant Raft_. It's a question of taking a key word, using the letter +figures which denote this, and adding these to the letter figures of the +original letter. That will give you a series of numbers which it is +impossible to decipher unless you know the key word. I feel certain that +this is a variation of that system, for the fact that two letters appear +together so frequently would seem to indicate that the numbers which +they represent are higher than twenty-six, the number of the letters in +the alphabet." + +"One word!" muttered Barlow. Then, seizing what was apparently a +memorandum sheet from the pile of Albert's papers, he exclaimed: "Here's +a list that neither the chief nor I could make anything of. See? It has +twelve numbers, which might be the months of the year, with a name or +word behind each one!" + +"Yes," replied Thurber, disconsolately, "I saw that the first thing. But +this is October and the word corresponding to the number ten is +'Wilhelmstrasse'--and that doesn't help at all. I tried it." + +"Then try 'Hohenzollern,' the September word!" snapped Barlow. "This +message was presumably written in Berlin and therefore took some time to +get over here." + +"By George! that's so! A variation of the 'clock code' as well as +Verne's idea. Here, read off the letters and I'll put them on the board +with the figures representing Hohenzollern underneath. Take the first +fifteen as before." + +When they had finished, the blackboard bore the following, the first +line being the original code letters, the second the letter figures of +these, and the third the figures of the word "Hohenzollern" with the +first "h" repeated for the fifteenth letter: + + I i i t f b b t t x o r q w s b b + + I ii t f bb tt x o r q w s bb + 9 35 20 6 28 46 24 15 18 17 23 19 28 + 8 15 8 5 14 26 15 12 12 5 18 14 8 + +"Why thirty-five for that double 'i' and twenty-eight for the double +'b's'?" asked Barlow. + +"Add twenty-six--the total number of letters in the alphabet--to the +letter figure for the letter itself," said Thurber. "That's the one +beauty of this code, one of the things which helps to throw you off the +scent. Now subtracting the two lines we have: + + "1 20 12 1 14 20 9 3 6 12 5 5 20 + +"We've got it!" he cried an instant later, as he stepped back to look at +the figures and read off: + + "A t l a n t i c f l e e t + +"It was a double code, after all," Thurber stated when he had deciphered +the entire message by the same procedure and had reported his discovery +to the Secretary of the Navy over the phone. "Practically infallible, +too, save for the fact that I, as well as Doctor Albert, happened to be +familiar with Jules Verne. That, plus the doctor's inability to rely on +his memory and therefore leaving his key words in his brief case, +rendered the whole thing pretty easy." + +"Yes," thought Gene, "plus my suggestion of the September word, rather +than the October one, and plus Paula's quick wit--that's really all +there was to it!" But he kept his thoughts to himself, preferring to +allow Thurber to reap all the rewards that were coming to him for the +solution of the "double code." + + * * * * * + +"Do you know what the whole message was?" I inquired, as Quinn stopped +his narrative. + +"You'll find it pasted on the back of that copy of _The Giant Raft_," +replied the former operative. "That's why I claim that the book ought to +be preserved as a souvenir of an incident that saved millions of dollars +and hundreds of lives." + +Turning to the back of the Verne book I saw pasted there the following +significant lines: + + Atlantic Fleet sails (from) Hampton Roads (at) six (o'clock) + morning of seventeenth. Eight U-boats will be waiting. Advise + necessary parties and be ready (to) seek safety. Success (of) + attack inevitable. + +"That means that if Thurber hadn't been able to decipher that code the +greater part of our fleet would have been sunk by an unexpected +submarine attack, launched by a nation with whom we weren't even at +war?" I demanded, when I had finished the message. + +"Precisely," agreed Quinn. "But if you'll look up the records you'll +find that the fleet did not sail on schedule, while Dr. Heinrich Albert +and the entire staff from the house on Massachusetts Avenue were +deported before many more weeks had passed. There was no sense in +raising a fuss about the incident at the time, for von Bernstorff would +have denied any knowledge of the message and probably would have charged +that the whole thing was a plant, designed to embroil the United States +in the war. So it was allowed to rest for the time being and merely +jotted down as another score to be wiped off the slate later on. + +"But you have to admit that a knowledge of Jules Verne came in very +handy--quite as much so, in fact, as did a knowledge of the habits and +disposition of white mice in another case." + +"Which one was that?" + +Quinn merely pointed to the top of his bookcase, where there reposed a +stuffed white mouse, apparently asleep. + +"That's a memento of the case," replied the former operative. "I'll tell +you of it the next time you drop in." + + + + +XIII + +THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE MICE + + +"The United States Secret Service," announced Bill Quinn, "is by long +odds the best known branch of the governmental detective bureaus. The +terror which the continental crook feels at the sound of the name +'Scotland Yard' finds its echo on this side of the Atlantic whenever a +criminal knows that he has run afoul of the U. S. S. S. For Uncle Sam +never forgives an injury or forgets a wrong. Sooner or later he's going +to get his man--no matter how long it takes nor how much money it costs. + +"But the Secret Service, strictly speaking, is only one branch of the +organization. There are others which work just as quietly and just as +effectively. The Department of Justice, which had charge of the +violation of neutrality laws, banking, and the like; the Treasury +Department, which, through the Customs Service and the Bureau of +Internal Revenue, wages constant war on the men and women who think they +can evade the import regulations and the laws against illicit +manufacture of alcohol; the Pension Bureau of the Interior Department, +which is called upon to handle hundreds of frauds every year; and the +Post Office Department, which guards the millions of dollars intrusted +to the mails. + +"Each of these has its own province. Each works along its own line in +conjunction with the others, and each of them is, in reality, a secret +organization which performs a vastly important service to the nation as +a whole. When you speak of the Secret Service, the Treasury Department's +organization comes immediately to mind--coupled with a panorama of +counterfeiters, anarchists, revolutionaries, and the like. But the field +of the Secret Service is really limited when compared to the scope of +the other organizations. + +"Look around this room"--and he made a gesture which included the four +walls of the library den in which we were seated, a room in which the +usual decorations had been replaced by a strange collection of unusual +and, in a number of instances, gruesome relics. "Every one of those +objects is a memento of some exploit of the men engaged in Secret +Service," Quinn went on. "That Chinese hatchet up there came very close +to being buried in the skull of a man in San Diego, but its principal +mission in life was the solution of the mystery surrounding the +smuggling of thousands of pounds of opium. That water-stained cap was +fished out of the Missouri after its owner had apparently committed +suicide--but the Pension Bureau located him seven years later, with the +aid of a fortune teller in Seattle. At the side of the bookcase there +you will find several of the original poison-pen letters which created +so much consternation in Kansas City a few years ago, letters which +Allison of the Postal Inspection Service finally traced to their source +after the local authorities had given up the case as impossible of +solution. + +"The woman whose picture appears on the other wall was known as Mrs. +Armitage--and that was about all that they did know about her, save that +she was connected with one of the foreign organizations and that in some +mysterious way she knew everything that was going on in the State +Department almost as soon as it was started. And there, under that piece +of silk which figured in one of the boldest smuggling cases that the +Treasury Department ever tackled, is the blurred postmark which +eventually led to the discovery of the man who murdered Montgomery +Marshall--a case in which our old friend Sherlock Holmes would have +reveled. But it's doubtful if he could have solved it any more +skillfully than did one of the Post Office operatives." + +"What's the significance of that white mouse on the mantelpiece?" I +inquired, sensing the fact that Quinn was in one of his story-telling +moods. + +"It hasn't any significance," replied the former government agent, "but +it has a story--one which illustrates my point that all the nation's +detective work isn't handled by the Secret Service, by a long shot. Did +you ever hear of H. Gordon Fowler, alias W. C. Evans?" + +"No," I replied, "I don't think I ever did." + +"Well, a lot of people have--to their sorrow," laughed Quinn, reaching +for his pipe. + + * * * * * + +No one appears to know what Fowler's real name is [continued the former +operative]. He traveled under a whole flock of aliases which ran the +gamut of the alphabet from Andrews to Zachary, but, to save mixing +things up, suppose that we assume that his right name was Fowler. He +used it for six months at one time, out in Minneapolis, and got away +with twenty thousand dollars' worth of stuff. + +For some time previous to Fowler's entrance upon the scene various +wholesale houses throughout the country had been made the victims of +what appeared to be a ring of bankruptcy experts--men who would secure +credit for goods, open a store, and then "fail." Meanwhile the +merchandise would have mysteriously vanished and the proprietor would be +away on a "vacation" from which, of course, he would never return. + +On the face of it this was a matter to be settled solely by the +Wholesalers' Credit Association, but the Postal Inspection Service got +into it through the fact that the mails were palpably being used with +intent to defraud and therefore Uncle Sam came to the aid of the +business men. + +On the day that the matter was reported to Washington the chief of the +Postal Inspection Service pushed the button which operated a buzzer in +the outer office and summoned Hal Preston, the chap who later on was +responsible for the solution of the Marshall murder mystery. + +"Hal," said the chief, with a smile, "here's a case I know you'll like. +It's right in the line of routine and it ought to mean a lot of +traveling around the country--quick jumps at night and all that sort of +stuff." + +Preston grunted, but said nothing. You couldn't expect to draw the big +cases every time, and, besides, there was no telling when something +might break even in the most prosaic of assignments. + +"Grant, Wilcox & Company, in Boston, report that they've been stung +twice in the same place by a gang of bankruptcy sharks," the chief went +on. "And they're not the only ones who have suffered. Here's a list of +the concerns and the men that they've sold to. You'll see that it covers +the country from Hoquiam, Washington, to Montclair, New Jersey--so they +appear to have their organization pretty well in hand. Ordinarily we +wouldn't figure in this thing at all--but the gang made the mistake of +placing their orders through the mail and now it's up to us to land 'em. +Here's the dope. Hop to it!" + +That night, while en route to Mount Clemens, Michigan, where the latest +of the frauds had been perpetrated, Preston examined the envelope full +of evidence and came to a number of interesting conclusions. In the +first place the failures had been staged in a number of different +localities--Erie, Pennsylvania, had had one of them under the name of +"Cole & Hill"; there had been another in Sioux City, where Immerling +Brothers had failed; Metcalf and Newman, Illinois, had likewise +contributed their share, as had Minneapolis, Newark, Columbus, White +Plains, and Newburg, New York; San Diego, California; Hoquiam, +Washington, and several other points. + +But the point that brought Hal up with a jerk was the dates attached to +each of these affairs. No two of them had occurred within six months of +the other and several were separated by as much as a year. + +"Who said this was a gang?" he muttered. "Looks a lot more like the work +of a single man with plenty of nerve and, from the amount of stuff he +got away with, he ought to be pretty nearly in the millionaire class by +now. There's over two hundred thousand dollars' worth of goods covered +by this report alone and there's no certainty that it is complete. Well, +here's hoping--it's always easier to trail one man than a whole bunch of +'em." + +In Mount Clemens Preston found further evidence which tended to prove +that the bankruptcy game was being worked by a single nervy individual, +posing under the name of "Henry Gerard." + +Gerard, it appeared, had entered the local field about a year before, +apparently with plenty of capital, and had opened two prosperous stores +on the principal street. In August, about two months before Preston's +arrival, the proprietor of the Gerard stores had left on what was +apparently scheduled for a two weeks' vacation. That was the last that +had been heard of him, in spite of the fact that a number of urgent +creditors had camped upon his trail very solicitously. The stores had +been looted, only enough merchandise being left to keep up the fiction +of a complete stock, and Gerard had vanished with the proceeds. + +After making a few guarded inquiries in the neighborhood of the store, +Preston sought out the house where Gerard had boarded during his stay in +Mount Clemens. There he found that the missing merchant, in order to +allay suspicion, had paid the rental of his apartment for three months +in advance, and that the place had not been touched since, save by the +local authorities who had been working on the case. + +"You won't find a thing there," the chief of police informed Hal, in +response to a request for information. "Gerard's skipped and that's all +there is to it. We've been over the place with a fine-tooth comb and +there ain't a scrap of evidence. We did find some telegrams torn up in +his waste basket, but if you can make anything out of 'em it's more than +I can," and he handed over an envelope filled with scraps of finely torn +yellow paper. + +"Not the slightest indication of where Gerard went?" inquired Preston as +he tucked the envelope in an inside pocket. + +"Not a bit," echoed the chief. "He may be in China now, so far as we +know." + +"Was he married?" + +"Nobody here knows nothin' about him," the chief persisted. "They do say +as how he was right sweet on a girl named Anna Something-or-other who +lived in the same block. But she left town before he did, and she 'ain't +come back, neither." + +"What did you say her name was?" + +"Anna Vaughan, I b'lieve she called herself. You might ask Mrs. Morris +about her. She had a room at her place, only a few doors away from +where Gerard stayed." + +The apartment of the man who had vanished, Preston found, was furnished +in the manner typical of a thousand other places. Every stick of +furniture appeared to have seen better days and no two pieces could be +said to match. Evidently Gerard had been practicing economy in his +domestic arrangements in order to save all the money possible for a +quick getaway. What was more, he had carefully removed everything of a +personal nature, save a row of books which decorated the mantel piece in +one of the rooms. + +It was toward these that Preston finally turned in desperation. All but +one of them were the cheaper grade of fiction, none of which bore any +distinguishing marks, but the exception was a new copy of the latest +Railroad Guide. Just as Preston pounced upon this he heard a chuckle +from behind him and, whirling, saw the chief of police just entering the +door. + +"Needn't worry with that, young man," he urged. "I've been all through +it and there ain't nothin' in it. Just thought I'd drop up to see if +you'd found anything," he added, in explanation of his sudden +appearance. "Have you?" + +"No," admitted the postal operative. "Can't say that I have. This is the +first piece of personal property that I've been able to locate and you +say there is nothing in this?" + +"Nary a clue," persisted the chief, but Preston, as if loath to drop the +only tangible reminder of Gerard, idly flipped the pages of the Guide, +and then stood it on edge on the table, the covers slightly opened. +Then, as the chief watched him curiously, he closed the book, opened it +again and repeated the operation. + +"What's the idea? Tryin' to make it do tricks?" the chief asked as Hal +stood the book on edge for the third time. + +"Hardly that. Just working on a little theory of my own," was the +response, as the post-office man made a careful note of the page at +which the Guide had fallen open--the same one which had presented itself +to view on the two other occasions. "Here, would you like to try it?" +and he handed the volume to the chief. But that functionary only +shrugged his shoulders and replaced the Guide upon the mantelpiece. + +"Some more of your highfalutin' detective work, eh?" he muttered. "Soon +you'll be claimin' that books can talk." + +"Possibly not out loud," smiled Hal. "But they can be made to tell very +interesting stories now and then, if you know how to handle 'em. There +doesn't seem to be much here, Chief, so I think I'll go back to the +hotel. Let me know if anything comes up, will you?" And with that he +left. + +But before returning to the hotel he stopped at the house where Anna +Vaughan had resided and found out from the rather garrulous landlady +that Gerard had appeared to be rather smitten with the beautiful +stranger. + +"She certainly was dressed to kill," said the woman who ran the +establishment. "A big woman and strong as all outdoors. Mr. Gerard came +here three or four nights a week while she was with us and he didn't +seem to mind the mice at all." + +"Mind the what?" snapped Preston. + +"The mice--the white mice that she used to keep as pets," explained the +landlady. "Had half a dozen or more of them running over her shoulders, +but I told her that I couldn't stand for that. She could keep 'em in +her room if she wanted to, but I had to draw the line somewhere. Guess +it was on their account that she didn't have any other visitors. S'far +as I know Mr. Gerard was the only one who called on her." + +"When did Miss Vaughan leave?" Hal inquired. + +"Mrs. Vaughan," corrected the woman. "She was a widow--though she was +young and pretty enough to have been married any time she wanted to be. +Guess the men wouldn't stand for them mice, though. She didn't stay very +long--just about six weeks. Left somewheres about the middle of July." + +"About two weeks before Gerard did?" + +"About that--though I don't just remember the date." + +A few more inquiries elicited the fact that Mrs. Vaughan's room had been +rented since her departure, so Preston gave up the idea of looking +through it for possible connecting links with the expert in bankruptcy. + +Returning to the hotel, the operative settled down to an examination of +the scraps of torn telegrams which the chief had handed him. Evidently +they had been significant, he argued, for Gerard had been careful to +tear them into small bits, and it was long past midnight before he had +succeeded in piecing the messages together, pasting the scraps on glass +in case there had been any notations on the reverse of the blank. + +But when he had finished he found that he had only added one more +puzzling aspect to the case. + +There were three telegrams, filed within a week and all dated just +before Gerard had left town. + +"Geraldine, Anna, May, and Florence are in Chicago," read the message +from Evanston, Illinois. + +"George, William, Katherine, Ray, and Stephen still in St. Louis," was +the wire filed from Detroit. + +The third message, from Minneapolis, detailed the fact that "Frank, +Vera, Marguerite, Joe, and Walter are ready to leave St. Paul." + +None of the telegrams was signed, but, merely as a precaution, Preston +wired Evanston, Detroit, and Minneapolis to find out if there was any +record of who had sent them. + +"Agent here recalls message," came the answer from Detroit the next day. +"Filed by woman who refused to give her name. Agent says sender was +quite large, good-looking, and very well dressed." + +"Anna Vaughan!" muttered Preston, as he tucked the telegram in his +pocket and asked to be shown a copy of the latest Railway Guide. + +Referring to a note which he had made on the previous evening, Hal +turned to pages 251-2, the part of the book which had fallen open three +times in succession when he had examined it in Gerard's rooms, and noted +that it was the Atchinson, Topeka & Santa Fe time-table, westbound. +Evidently the missing merchant had invested in a copy of the Guide +rather than run the risk of leaving telltale time-tables around his +apartment, but he had overstepped himself by referring to only one +portion of the book. + +"Not the first time that a crook has been just a little too clever," +mused Preston, with a smile. "If it had been an old copy, there wouldn't +have been any evidence--but a new book, opened several times at the same +place, can be made to tell tales--his honor, the chief of police, to the +contrary." + +It was clear, therefore, that Preston had three leads to work on: Anna +Vaughan, a large, beautiful woman, well-dressed and with an affection +for white mice; the clue that Gerard was somewhere in the Southwest and +at least the first names of fourteen men and women connected with the +gang. + +But right there he paused. Was there any gang? The dates of the various +disappearances tended to prove that there wasn't, but the messages +received by Gerard certainly appeared to point to the fact that others +were connected with the conspiracy to defraud. + +Possibly one of the clerks who had been connected with the Gerard stores +would be able to throw a little light upon the situation.... + +It wasn't until Hal interviewed the woman who had acted as cashier and +manager for the second store that he found the lead he was after. In +response to his inquiry as to whether she had ever heard the missing +proprietor speak of any of the persons mentioned in the wires, the +cashier at first stated definitely that she hadn't, but added, a moment +later: + +"Come to think of it, he did. Not as people, but as trunks." + +"What's that?" exclaimed the operative. "Trunks?" + +"Yes. I remember sometime last spring, when we were figuring on how much +summer goods we ought to carry, I mentioned the matter to Mr. Gerard, +and almost automatically he replied, 'I'll wire for Edna and Grace.' +Thinking he meant saleswomen, I reminded him that we had plenty, +particularly for the slack season. He colored up a bit, caught his +breath, and turned the subject by stating that he always referred to +trunks of goods in terms of people's first names--girls for the feminine +stuff and men's for the masculine. But Edna and Grace weren't on your +list, were they?" + +"No," replied Preston. "But that doesn't matter. Besides, didn't the two +trunks of goods arrive?" + +"Yes, they came in a couple of weeks later." + +"Before Mrs. Vaughan came to town?" + +"Oh yes, some time before she arrived." + +"I thought so," was Preston's reply, and, thanking the girl, he wandered +back to the hotel--convinced that he had solved at least one of the +mysteries, the question of what Gerard did with his surplus "bankrupt +stock." It was evidently packed in trunks and shipped to distant points, +to be forwarded by the Vaughan woman upon instructions from Gerard +himself. The wires he had torn up were merely confirmatory messages, +sent so that he would have the necessary information before making a +getaway. + +"Clever scheme, all right," was Hal's mental comment. "Now the next +point is to find some town in the Southwest where a new store has been +opened within the past two months." + +That night the telegraph office at Mount Clemens did more business than +it had had for the past year. Wires, under the government frank, went +out to every town on the Atchinson, Topeka & Santa Fe and to a number of +adjacent cities. In each case the message was the same: + + Wire name of any new clothing store opened within past two + months. Also description of proprietor. Urgent. + + PRESTON, + U. S. P. I. S. + +Fourteen chiefs of police replied within the next forty-eight hours, but +of these only two--Leavenworth and Fort Worth--contained descriptions +which tallied with that of Henry Gerard. + +So, to facilitate matters, Preston sent another wire: + + Has proprietor mentioned in yesterday's wire a wife or woman + friend who keeps white mice as pets? + +Fort Worth replied facetiously that the owner of the new store there was +married, but that his wife had a cat--which might account for the +absence of the mice. Leavenworth, however, came back with: + + Yes, Mrs. Noble, wife of owner of Outlet Store, has white + mice for pets. Why? + + Never mind reason [Preston replied]. Watch Noble and wife + until I arrive. Leaving to-day. + +Ten minutes after reaching Leavenworth Preston was ensconced in the +office of the chief of police, outlining the reason for his visit. + +"I'm certain that Noble is the man you want," said the chief, when Hal +had finished. "He came here some six weeks or more ago and at once +leased a store, which he opened a few days later. The description fits +him to a T, except for the fact that he's evidently dispensed with the +mustache. The Vaughan woman is posing as his wife and they've rented a +house on the outskirts of town. What do you want me to do? Nab 'em right +away?" + +"No," directed the operative. "I'd rather attend to that myself, if you +don't object. After trailing them this far, I'd like to go through with +it. You might have some men handy, though, in case there's any fuss." + +Just as Mr. and Mrs. C. K. Noble were sitting down to dinner there was a +ring at their front-door bell and Noble went to see who it was. + +"I'd like to speak to Mr. H. Gordon Fowler," said Preston, his hand +resting carelessly in the side pocket of his coat. + +"No Mr. Fowler lives here," was the growling reply from the inside. + +"Then Mr. W. C. Evans or Mr. Henry Gerard will do!" snapped the +operative, throwing his shoulder against the partly opened door. +Noble--or Fowler, as he was afterward known--stepped aside as Hal +plunged through, and then slammed the door behind him. + +"Get him, Anna!" he called, throwing the safety bolt into position. + +The next thing that Preston knew, a pair of arms, bare and feminine but +strong as iron, had seized him around the waist and he was in imminent +danger of being bested by a woman. With a heave and a wriggling twist he +broke the hold and turned, just in time to see Fowler snatch a revolver +from a desk on the opposite side of the room and raise it into position. +Without an instant's hesitation he leaped to one side, dropped his hand +into his coat pocket, and fired. Evidently the bullet took effect, for +the man across the room dropped his gun, spun clean around and then sank +to the floor. As he did so, however, the woman hurled a heavy vase +directly at Preston's head and the operative sank unconscious. + + * * * * * + +"Well, go on!" I snapped, when Quinn paused. "You sound like a serial +story--to be continued in our next. What happened then?" + +"Nothing--beyond the fact that three policemen broke in some ten seconds +after Hal fired, grabbed Mrs. Vaughan or whatever her name was, and kept +her from beating Hal to death, as she certainly would have done in +another minute. Fowler wasn't badly hurt. In fact, both of them stood +trial the next spring--Fowler drawing six years and Anna Vaughan one. +Incidentally, they sent 'em back to Leavenworth to do time and, as a +great concession, allowed the woman to take two of her white mice with +her. I managed to get one of the other four, and, when it died, had it +stuffed as a memento of a puzzling case well solved. + +"It's a hobby of mine--keeping these relics. That hatchet, for +example.... Remind me to tell you about it some time. The mice were +responsible for finding one man in fifty million--which is something of +a job in itself--but the hatchet figured in an even more exciting +affair...." + + + + +XIV + +WAH LEE AND THE FLOWER OF HEAVEN + + +"Yes, there's quite a story attached to that," remarked Bill Quinn one +evening as the conversation first lagged and then drifted away into +silence. We were seated in his den at the time--the "library" which he +had ornamented with relics of a score or more of cases in which the +various governmental detective services had distinguished +themselves--and I came to with a start. + +"What?" I exclaimed. "Story in what?" + +"In that hatchet--the one on the wall there that you were speculating +about. It didn't take a psychological sleuth to follow your eyes and +read the look of speculation in them. That's a trick that a 'sparrow +cop' could pull!" + +"Well, then, suppose you pay the penalty for your wisdom--and spin the +yarn," I retorted, none the less glad of the opportunity to hear the +facts behind the sinister red stain which appeared on the blade of the +Chinese weapon, for I knew that Quinn could give them to me if he +wished. + +"Frankly, I don't know the full history of the hatchet," came the answer +from the other side of the fireplace. "Possibly it goes back to the Ming +dynasty--whenever that was--or possibly it was purchased from a +mail-order house in Chicago. Chop suey isn't the only Chinese article +made in this country, you know. But my interest in it commenced with the +night when Ezra Marks-- + +"However, let's start at the beginning." + + * * * * * + +Marks [continued the former operative] was, as you probably recall, one +of the best men ever connected with the Customs Service. It was he who +solved the biggest diamond-smuggling case on record, and he was also +responsible for the discovery of the manner in which thirty thousand +yards of very valuable silk was being run into the country every year +without visiting the custom office. That's a piece of the silk up there, +over the picture of Mrs. Armitage.... + +It wasn't many months before the affair of the Dillingham diamonds that +official Washington in general and the offices of the Customs Service in +particular grew quite excited over the fact that a lot of opium was +finding its way into California. Of course, there's always a fair amount +of "hop" on the market, provided you know where to look for it, and the +government has about as much chance of keeping it out altogether as it +has of breaking up the trade in moonshine whisky. The mountaineer is +going to have his "licker" and the Chink is going to have his dope--no +matter what you do. But it's up to the Internal Revenue Bureau and the +Customs Service to see that neither one arrives in wholesale quantities. +And that was just what was happening on the Coast. + +In fact, it was coming in so fast that the price was dropping every day +and the California authorities fairly burned up the wires 'cross +continent with their howls for help. + +At that time Marks--Ezra by name and "E. Z." by nickname--was +comparatively a new member of the force. He had rendered valuable +service in Boston, however, and the chief sent for him and put the whole +thing in his hands. + +"Get out to San Diego as quickly as you know how," snapped the chief, +tossing over a sheaf of yellow telegraph slips. "There's all the +information we have, and apparently you won't get much more out +there--unless you dig it up for yourself. All they seem to know is that +the stuff is coming in by the carload and is being peddled in all the +hop joints at a lower price than ever before. It's up to you to get the +details. Any help you need will be supplied from the San Francisco +office, but my advice is to play a lone hand--you're likely to get +further than if you have a gang with you all the time." + +"That's my idear, Chief," drawled Ezra, who hailed from Vermont and had +all the New Englander's affection for single-handed effort, not because +he had the least objection to sharing the glory, but simply because he +considered it the most efficient way to work. "I'll get right out there +and see how the land lays." + +"Needn't bother to report until you discover something worth while," +added the chief. "I'll know that you're on the job and the farther you +keep away from headquarters the less suspicion you're likely to arouse." + +This was the reason that, beyond the fact they knew that an operative +named Marks had been sent from Washington to look into the opium matter, +the government agents on the Coast were completely in the dark as to the +way in which the affair was being handled. In fact, the chief himself +was pretty well worried when two months slipped by without a word from +Ezra.... + +But the big, raw-boned Yankee was having troubles of his own. Likewise, +he took his instructions very seriously and didn't see the least reason +for informing Washington of the very patent fact that he had gotten +nowhere and found out nothing. + +"They know where they can reach me," he argued to himself one night, +about the time that the chief began to wonder if his man were floating +around the bay with a piece of Chinese rope about his neck. "Unless I +get a wire they won't hear anything until I have at least a line on this +gang." + +Then, on going over the evidence which he had collected during the weeks +that he had been in San Diego, he found that there was extremely little +of it. Discreet questioning had developed the fact, which he already +knew, that opium was plentiful all along the Coast, and that, +presumably, it was supplied from a point in the south of the state. But +all his efforts to locate the source of the drug brought him up against +a blank wall. + +In order to conduct his investigations with a minimum of suspicion, +Marks had elected to enter San Diego in the guise of a derelict--a +character which he had played to such perfection that two weeks after he +arrived he found himself in court on the charge of vagrancy. Only the +fact that the presiding magistrate did not believe in sentencing first +offenders saved him from ten days in the workhouse, an opportunity which +he was rather sorry to miss because he figured that he might pick up +some valuable leads from the opium addicts among his fellow prisoners. + +The only new point which he had developed during his stay in the +underworld was that some one named Sprague, presumably an American, was +the brains of the opium ring and had perfected the entire plan. But who +Sprague was or where he might be found were matters which were kept in +very watchful secrecy. + +"I give it up," muttered the operative, shrugging his arms into a +threadbare coat and shambling out of the disreputable rooming house +which passed for home. "Work doesn't seem to get me anywhere. Guess I'll +have to trust to luck," and he wandered out for his nightly stroll +through the Chinese quarter, hoping against hope that something would +happen. + +It did--in bunches! + +Possibly it was luck, possibly it was fate--which, after all, is only +another name for luck--that brought him into an especially unsavory +portion of the city shortly after midnight. + +He had wandered along for three hours or more, with no objective in view +save occasional visits to dives where he was known, when he heard +something which caused him to whirl and automatically reach for his hip +pocket. It was the cry of a woman, shrill and clear--the cry of a woman +in mortal danger! + +It had only sounded once, but there was a peculiar muffled quality at +the end of the note, suggestive of a hand or a gag having been placed +over the woman's mouth. Then--silence, so still as to be almost +oppressive. + +Puzzled, Marks stood stock still and waited. So far as he could remember +that was the first time that he had heard anything of the kind in +Chinatown. He knew that there were women there, but they were kept well +in the background and, apparently, were content with their lot. The +woman who had screamed, however, was in danger of her life. Behind one +of those flimsy walls some drama was being enacted in defiance of the +law--something was being done which meant danger of the most deadly kind +to him who dared to interfere. + +For a full minute Marks weighed the importance of his official mission +against his sense of humanity. Should he take a chance on losing his +prey merely to try to save a woman's life? Should he attempt to find the +house from which the scream had come and force the door? Should he.... + +But the question was solved for him in a manner even more startling than +the cry in the night. + +While he was still debating the door of a house directly in front of him +opened wide and a blinding glare of light spread fanwise into the +street. Across this there shot the figure of what Marks at first took to +be a man--a figure attired in a long, heavily embroidered jacket and +silken trousers. As it neared him, however, the operative sensed that it +was a woman, and an instant later he knew that it was the woman whose +stifled scream had halted him only a moment before. + +Straight toward Marks she came and, close behind her--their faces set in +a look of deadly implacable rage--raced two large Chinamen. + +Probably realizing that she stood no chance of escape in the open +street, the woman darted behind Marks and prepared to dodge her +pursuers. As she did so the operative caught her panting appeal: "Save +me! For the sake of the God, save me!" + +That was all that was necessary. Ezra sensed in an instant the fact that +he had become embroiled in what bade fair to be a tragedy and braced +himself for action. He knew that he had no chance for holding off both +men, particularly as he did not care to precipitate gun play, but there +was the hope that he might divert them until the girl escaped. + +As the first of the two men leaped toward him, Marks swung straight for +his jaw, but his assailant ducked with what was almost professional +rapidity and the blow was only a glancing one. Before the operative had +time to get set the other man was upon him and, in utter silence save +for their labored breathing and dull thuds as blows went home, they +fought their way back to the far side of the street. As he retreated, +Marks became conscious that instead of making her escape, the girl was +still behind him. The reason for this became apparent when the larger of +the Chinamen suddenly raised his arm and the light from the open doorway +glinted on the blade of a murderous short-handled axe--the favorite +weapon of Tong warfare. Straight for his head the blade descended, but +the girl's arm, thrust out of the darkness behind him, diverted the blow +and the hatchet fairly whistled as it passed within an inch of his body. + +Realizing that his only hope of safety lay in reaching the opposite side +of the sidewalk, where he would be able to fight with his back against +the wall, Marks resumed his retreat, his arms moving like flails, his +fists crashing home blows that lost much of their power by reason of the +heavily padded jackets of his opponents. Finally, after seconds that +seemed like hours, one of his blows found the jaw of the man nearest +him, and Marks wheeled to set himself for the onrush of the other--the +man with the hatchet. + +But just at that moment his foot struck the uneven curbing and threw him +off his balance. He was conscious of an arc of light as the blade sang +through the air; he heard a high, half-muffled cry from the girl beside +him; and he remembered trying to throw himself out of the way of the +hatchet. Then there was a stinging, smarting pain in the side of his +head and in his left shoulder--followed by the blackness of oblivion. + +From somewhere, apparently a long distance off, there came a voice which +brought back at least a part of the operative's fast failing +consciousness, a voice which called a name vaguely familiar to him: + +"Sprague! Sprague!" + +"Sprague?" muttered Marks, trying to collect himself. +"Who--is--Sprague?" + +Then, as he put it later, he "went off." + +How much time elapsed before he came to he was unable to say, but +subsequent developments indicated that it was at least a day and a +night. He hadn't the slightest idea what had occurred meanwhile--he only +knew that he seemed to drift back to consciousness and a realization +that his head was splitting as if it would burst. Mechanically he +stretched his legs and tried to rise, only to find that what appeared to +be a wooden wall closed him in on all sides, leaving an opening only +directly above him. + +For an appreciable time he lay still, trying to collect his thoughts. He +recalled the fight in the open street, the intervention of the girl, the +fall over the curb and then--there was something that he couldn't +remember, something vital that had occurred just after he had tried to +dodge the hatchet blade. + +"Yes," he murmured, as memory returned, "it was some one calling for +'Sprague--Sprague!'" + +"Hush!" came a whispered command out of the darkness which surrounded +him, and a hand, soft and very evidently feminine, covered his mouth. +"You must not mention that name here. It means the death, instant and +terrible! They are discussing your fate in there now, but if they had +thought that you knew Wah Lee your life would not be worth a yen." + +"Wah Lee? Who is he?" Marks replied, his voice pitched in an undertone. +"I don't remember any Wah Lee. And who are you?" + +"Who I am does not matter," came out of the darkness, "but Wah Lee--he +is the master of life and death--the high priest of the Flower of +Heaven. Had it not been for him you would have been dead before this." + +"But I thought--" + +"That he desired your life? So he did--and does. But they have to plan +the way in which it is to be taken and the disposition which is to be +made of your body. That was what gave me my opportunity for binding up +your wound and watching for you to wake." + +In spite of himself Marks could not repress a slight shudder. So they +were saving him for the sacrifice, eh? They were going to keep him here +until their arrangements were complete and then make away with him, were +they? + +Moving cautiously, so as to avoid attracting attention, the operative +slipped his right hand toward his hip pocket, only to find that his +automatic was missing. As he settled back with a half moan, he felt +something cold slipped into the box beside him, and the girl's voice +whispered: + +"Your revolver. I secured it when they brought you in here. I thought +you might need it later. But be very careful. They must not suspect that +you have wakened." + +"I will," promised Marks, "but who are you? Why should you take such an +interest in me?" + +"You tried to save me from something that is worse than death," replied +the girl. "You failed, but it was not your fault. Could I do less than +to help you?" + +"But what was it you feared?" + +"Marriage! Marriage to the man I loathe above all others--the man who is +responsible for the opium that is drugging my people--the man who is +known as Wah Lee, but who is really an American." Here she hesitated for +a moment and then hissed: + +"Sprague!" + +"Sprague?" Marks echoed, sitting bolt upright. But the girl had gone, +swallowed up somewhere in the impenetrable darkness which filled the +room. + +His brain cleared by the realization that he had blundered into the +heart of the opium-runners' den, it took Ezra only a few seconds to +formulate a plan of action. The first thing, of course, was to get away. +But how could that be accomplished when he did not even know where he +was or anything about the house? The girl had said something about the +fact that "they were considering his fate." Who were "they" and where +were they? + +Obviously, the only way to find this out was to do a little scouting on +his own account, so, slowly and carefully, he raised himself clear of +the boxlike arrangement in which he had been placed and tried to figure +out his surroundings. His hand, groping over the side, came into almost +instant contact with the floor and he found it a simple matter to step +out into what appeared to be a cleared space in the center of a +comparatively large room. Then, curious as to the place where he had +been concealed, he felt the box from one end to the other. The sides +were about two feet high and slightly sloping, with an angle near the +head. In fact, both ends of the affair were narrower than the portion +which had been occupied by his shoulders. Piled up at either end of this +box were others, of the same shape and size. What could their purpose +be? Why the odd shape? + +Suddenly the solution of the mystery flashed across the operative's +mind--coffins! Coffins which appeared to be piled up on all sides of the +storeroom. Was this the warehouse for a Chinese undertaker or was it-- + +One coffin over which he nearly tripped gave him the answer. It was +partly filled with cans, unlabeled and quite heavy--containers which +Marks felt certain were packed full of opium and smuggled in some manner +inside the coffins. + +Just as he arrived at this conclusion Marks' eye was caught by a tiny +streak of light filtering through the wall on the opposite side of the +room. Making his way carefully toward this, he found that the crack +presented a fairly complete view of an adjoining apartment in which +three Chinese, evidently of high degree, were sorting money and entering +accounts in large books. + +As he looked, a fourth figure entered the room--a man who caused him to +catch his breath and flatten himself against the wall, for he recognized +the larger of the two Chinamen who had attacked him the night before--or +whenever it was. This was the man to whom the girl had alluded as "Wah +Lee, High Priest of the Flower of Heaven"--which was merely another way +of saying that he had charge of the opium shipments. + +As he entered the others rose and remained standing until he had seated +himself. Then one of them commenced to speak in rapid, undistinguishable +Chinese. Before he had had time to pronounce more than a few words, +however, Wah Lee interrupted him with a command couched in English to: +"Cut that out! You know I don't understand that gibberish well enough to +follow you." + +"Beg pardon," replied the other. "I always forget. You are so like one +of us that, even in private, I find it hard to remember." + +Wah Lee said nothing, but, slipping off his silken jacket, settled back +at his ease. A moment later Marks was amazed to see him remove his +mandarin's cap, and with it came a wig of coal-black hair! + +For the first time the government agent realized what the girl had meant +when she intimated that Wah Lee and Sprague were one and the same--an +American who was masquerading as Chinese in order to further his +smuggling plans! + +"Word has just arrived," continued the man who had first spoken, "that +the boat will be off Point Banda to-night. That will allow us to pick up +the coffins before daybreak and bury them until such time as the +American hounds are off their guard." + +"Yes," grunted Sprague, "and let's hope that that's soon. We must have +fifty thousand dollars' worth of the stuff cached on the other side of +the border and orders are coming in faster than we can fill them. I +think it would be best to run this cargo right in. We can stage a +funeral, if necessary, and avoid suspicion in that way. Wait a minute! +I've got a hunch! What about the bum we carried in here last night--the +one that tried to help Anita in her getaway?" + +"Anita?" + +"Yes, my girl. I can't remember that rigmarole you people call her. +Anita's her name from now on." + +"He is in the next room, unconscious. Two of the men dumped him in one +of the empty coffins and let him stay there." + +"Good," chuckled Sprague. "We'll just let him remain--run him across the +border, and bring his body back in a big hearse. The coffin and the body +will be real, but there'll be enough cans of dope packed in and around +him and in the carriages of the 'mourners' to make us all rich. It's the +chance of a lifetime for a big play, because no one will ever suspect us +or even inquire into his identity." + +Behind the thin wall which separated him from the next room Marks +stiffened and his fingers wound themselves even more tightly around the +butt of his automatic. It is not given to many men to hear their death +sentence pronounced in a manner as dramatic and cold-blooded as were the +words which came from the outer apartment. By listening intently, Ezra +learned that the coup would be sprung sometime within the next few +hours, the conspirators feeling that it would not be safe to delay, as +the opium shipment was due before dawn. + +Moving silently and aided somewhat by the fact that his eyes had become +a little accustomed to the inky blackness, Marks made his way back to +the place where he had awakened. He knew that that was where they would +expect to find him and he also knew that this was the one place to +avoid. So he located the door and, finding it bolted from the outside, +placed himself where he would be at least partly sheltered when the +party entered. + +After what seemed to be an interminable time he finally heard a sound +from the hallway--the soft slip-slip of felt shoes approaching. Then the +bolt was withdrawn and the door opened, admitting the four men whom he +had seen in the other room, and behind them, carrying a lantern, came +the girl. + +Nerving himself for a supreme leap, Marks waited until all five visitors +were inside the room, and then started to slip through the open doorway. +But his movement attracted the attention of the man called Sprague and, +with a cry of warning, he wheeled and fired before the operative could +gain the safety of the hall. Knowing that his body, outlined against the +light from outside, would make an ideal target, Ezra dropped to the +floor and swung his automatic into action. As he did so the girl +extinguished the lantern with a single swift blow, leaving the room in +total blackness, save for the path made by the light in the hallway. + +For probably twenty seconds there wasn't a sound. Then Marks caught a +glimpse of a moving figure and fired, leaping to one side as he did so +in order to avoid the fusillade directed at the flash of his revolver. +By a cry from the other side of the room he knew that his shot had gone +home, and a moment later he had an opportunity to wing another of his +assailants, again drawing a volley of shots. The last shot in his clip +was fired with a prayer--but it evidently went home, for only silence, +punctuated by moans from the opposite side of the room, ensued. + + * * * * * + +"That night," concluded Quinn, "a big sailing vessel was met off Point +Banda and they found a full month's supply of opium aboard of her. A +search of Lower California, near the border, also disclosed a burying +ground with many of the graves packed with cans of the drug. The raid, +of course, was a violation of Mexican neutrality--but they got away with +it." + +"The girl?" I cut in. "What became of her?" + +"When the police reached the house a few moments after Marks had fired +the last shot, they found that Sprague was dead with one of Ezra's +bullets through his brain. The three Chinamen were wounded, but not +fatally. The girl, however, was huddled in a corner, dead. No one ever +discovered whether she stopped one of the bullets from Marks's revolver +or whether she was killed by Sprague's men as a penalty for putting out +the lantern. Undoubtedly, that saved Ezra's life--which was the reason +that he saw that she was given a decent funeral and an adequate memorial +erected over her grave. + +"He also kept her jacket as a memento of the affair, turning the hatchet +over to me for my collection. Under it you will find a copy of the wire +he sent the chief." + +Curious, I went over and read the yellow slip framed beneath the weapon: + + Opium smuggled in coffins. American, at head of ring, dead. + Gang broken up. Opium seized. What next? + + MARKS. + +"Didn't wait long for another assignment, did he?" I inquired. + +"No," was the response. "When you're working for Uncle Sam you come to +find that excitement is about the only thing that keeps your nerves +quiet. Sometimes, as in Marks's case, it's the thrill of the actual +combat. But more often it's the search for a tangible clue--the groping +in the dark for something you know exists but which you can't lay your +hands on. That was the trouble with the Cheney case...." + + + + +XV + +THE MAN WITH THREE WIVES + + +One of the first things to strike the eye of the visitor who enters the +library-den of William J. Quinn--known to his friends and former +associates in the United States Secret Service as "Bill"--is a frame +which stands upon the mantel and contains the photographs of three +exceptionally pretty women. + +Anyone who doesn't know that this room is consecrated to relics of the +exploits of the various governmental detective services might be +pardoned for supposing that the three pictures in the single frame are +photographs of relatives. Only closer inspection will reveal the fact +that beneath them appears a transcript from several pages of a certain +book of records--the original of which is kept at the New York City +Hall. + +These pages state that.... + +But suppose we let Quinn tell the story, just as he told it one cold +November night while the wind was whistling outside and the cheery +warmth of the fire made things extremely snug within. + + * * * * * + +Secret Service men [said Quinn] divide all of their cases into two +classes--those which call for quick action and plenty of it and those +which demand a great deal of thought and only an hour or so of actual +physical work. Your typical operative--Allison, who was responsible for +solving the poison-pen puzzle, for example, or Hal Preston, who +penetrated the mystery surrounding the murder of Montgomery Marshall--is +essentially a man of action. He likes to tackle a job and get it over +with. It doesn't make any difference if he has to round up a half dozen +counterfeiters at the point of a single revolver--as Tommy Callahan once +did--or break up a gang of train robbers who have sworn never to be +taken alive. As long as he has plenty of thrills and excitement, as long +as he is able to get some joy out of life, he doesn't give a hang for +the risk. That's his business and he loves it. + +But it's the long-drawn-out cases which he has to ponder over and +consider from a score of angles that, in the vernacular of vaudeville, +capture his Angora. Give him an assignment where he can trail his man +for a day or two, get the lay of the land, and then drop on the bunch +like a ton o' brick and everything's fine. Give him one of the other +kind and--well, he's just about as happy as Guy Randall was when they +turned him loose with instructions to get something on Carl Cheney. + +Remember during the early days of the war when the papers were full of +stories from New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Milwaukee and points west +about gatherings of pro-German sympathizers who were determined to aid +the Fatherland? Theoretically, we were neutral at that time and these +people had all the scope they wanted. They did not confine themselves to +talk, however, but laid several plans which were destined to annoy the +government and to keep several hundred operatives busy defeating +them--for they were aimed directly at our policy of neutrality. + +As a campaign fund to assure the success of these operations, the German +sympathizers raised not less than sixteen million dollars--a sum which +naturally excited the cupidity not only of certain individuals within +their own ranks, but also of persons on the outside--men who were +accustomed to live by their wits and who saw in this gigantic collection +the opportunity of a lifetime. + +When you consider that you can hire a New York gangster to commit murder +for a couple of hundred dollars--and the "union scale" has been known to +be even lower--it's no wonder that the mere mention of sixteen million +dollars caused many a crook of international reputation to figure how he +could divert at least a part of this to his own bank account. That's the +way, as it afterward turned out, that Carl Cheney looked at it. + +Cheney had rubbed elbows with the police on several occasions prior to +nineteen fourteen. It was suspected that he had been mixed up in a +number of exceptionally clever smuggling schemes and that he had had a +finger in one or two operations which came perilously close to +blackmail. But no one had ever been able to get anything on him. He was +the original Finnigin--"In agin, gone agin." By the time the plan came +to a successful conclusion all that remained of "Count Carl's" +connection with it was a vague and distinctly nebulous shadow--and you +simply can't arrest shadows, no matter how hard you try. + +The New York police were the first to tip Washington off to the fact +that Cheney, who had dropped his aristocratic alias for the time being, +was back in this country and had been seen in the company of a number of +prominent members of a certain German-American club which wasn't in any +too good repute with the Department of Justice by reason of the efforts +of some of its members to destroy the neutral stand of the nation. + + Have no indications of what Cheney is doing [the report + admitted], but it will be well to trail him. Apparently he + has some connection, officially or unofficially, with + Berlin. Advise what action you wish us to take. + +Whereupon the chief wired back: + + Operative assigned to Cheney case leaves to-night. Meanwhile + please watch. + +It wasn't until after the wire had been sent that Guy Randall was +summoned to the inner sanctum of the Secret Service and informed that he +had been elected to trail the elusive suspect and find out what he was +up to. + +"So far as our records show," stated the chief, "no one has ever been +able to catch this Cheney person in the act of departing from the +straight and narrow path. However, that's a matter of the past. What +we've got to find out is what he is planning now--why he is in New York +and why he has attached himself to the pro-German element which has all +kinds of wild schemes up its sleeve." + +"And I'm the one who's got to handle it?" inquired Guy, with a grimace. + +"Precisely," grinned the chief. "Oh, I know it doesn't look like much of +a job and I grant you that the thrill element will probably be lacking. +But you can't draw a snap every time. All that's asked is that you get +something on Cheney--something which will withstand the assaults of the +lawyers he will undoubtedly hire the minute we lay hands on him. +Therefore you've got to be mighty careful to have the right dope. If +you're satisfied that he's doing nothing out of the way, don't hesitate +to say so. But I don't expect that your report will clear him, for, from +what we already know of the gentleman, he's more likely to be implicated +in some plan aimed directly at a violation of neutrality, and it's +essential that we find out what that is before we take any radical +step." + +"What do you know about Cheney?" was Randall's next question, followed +by an explanation from the chief that the "count" had been suspected in +a number of cases and had barely been able to escape in time. + +"But," added the head of the Secret Service, "he did escape. And that's +what we have to prevent this time. He's a fast worker and a clever +one--which means that you've got to keep continually after him. Call in +all the help you need, but if you take my advice you'll handle the case +alone. You're apt to get a lot further that way." + +Agreeing that this was the best method to pursue, Randall caught the +midnight train for New York and went at once to police headquarters, +where he requested a full description of Cheney's previous activities. + +"You're asking for something what ain't," he was informed, +ungrammatically, but truthfully. "We've never been able to get a thing +on the count, though we're dead certain that he had a finger in several +crooked plays. The Latimer letters were never directly traced to him, +but it's a cinch that he had something to do with their preparation, +just as he had with the blackmailing of old man Branchfield and the +smuggling of the van Husen emeralds. You remember that case, don't you? +The one where the stones were concealed in a life preserver and they +staged a 'man overboard' stunt just as the ship came into the harbor. +Nobody ever got the stones or proved that they were actually +smuggled--but the count happened to be on the ship at the time, just as +he 'happened' to be in Paris when they were sold. We didn't even dare +arrest him, which accounts for the fact that his photograph doesn't +ornament the Rogues' Gallery." + +"Well, what's the idea of trailing him, then?" + +"Just to find out what he is doing. What d'ye call those birds that fly +around at sea just before a gale breaks--stormy petrels? That's the +count! He's a stormy petrel of crookedness. Something goes wrong every +time he hits a town--or, rather, just after he leaves, for he's too +clever to stick around too long. The question now is, What's this +particular storm and when is it goin' to break?" + +"Fine job to turn me loose on," grumbled Randall. + +"It is that," laughed the captain who was dispensing information. "But +you can never tell what you'll run into, me boy. Why I remember once--" + +Randall, however, was out of the office before the official had gotten +well started on his reminiscences. He figured that he had already had +too much of a grouch to listen patiently to some long-winded story dug +out of the musty archives of police history and he made his way at once +to the hotel where Carl Cheney was registered, flaunting his own name in +front of the police whom he must have known were watching him. + +Neither the house detective nor the plain-clothes man who had been +delegated to trail Cheney could add anything of interest to the little +that Randall already knew. The "count," they said, had conducted himself +in a most circumspect manner and had not been actually seen in +conference with any of the Germans with whom he was supposed to be in +league. + +"He's too slick for that," added the man from the Central Office. +"Whenever he's got a conference on he goes up to the Club and you can't +get in there with anything less than a battering ram and raiding squad. +There's no chance to plant a dictaphone, and how else are you going to +get the information?" + +"What does he do at other times?" countered Guy, preferring not to +reply to the former question until he had gotten a better line on the +case. + +"Behaves himself," was the laconic answer. "Takes a drive in the Park in +the afternoon, dines here or at one of the other hotels, goes to the +theater and usually finishes up with a little supper somewhere among the +white lights." + +"Any women in sight?" + +"Yes--two. A blond from the girl-show that's playin' at the +Knickerbocker and a red-head. Don't know who she is--but they're both +good lookers. No scandal, though. Everything appears to be on the +level--even the women." + +"Well," mused the government operative after a moment's silence, "I +guess I better get on the job. Probably means a long stretch of dull +work, but the sooner I get at it the sooner I'll get over it. Where is +Cheney now?" + +"Up in his room. Hasn't come down to breakfast yet. Yes. There he is +now. Just getting out of the elevator--headed toward the dinin' room," +and the plain-clothes man indicated the tall figure of a man about +forty, a man dressed in the height of fashion, with spats, a cane, and a +morning coat of the most correct cut. "Want me for anything?" + +"Not a thing," said Randall, absently. "I'll pick him up now. You might +tell the chief to watch out for a hurry call from me--though I'm afraid +he won't get it." + +As events proved, Randall was dead right. The Central Office heard +nothing from him for several months, and even Washington received only +stereotyped reports indicative of what Cheney was doing--which wasn't +much. + +Shortly after the first of the year, Guy sent a wire to the chief, +asking to be relieved for a day or two in order that he might be free to +come to Washington. Sensing the fact that the operative had some plan +which he wished to discuss personally, the chief put another man on +Cheney's trail and instructed Randall to report at the Treasury +Department on the following morning. + +"What's the matter?" inquired the man at the head of the Service as Guy, +a little thinner than formerly and showing by the wrinkles about his +eyes the strain under which he was working, strolled into the office. + +"Nothing's the matter, Chief--and that's where the trouble lies. You +know I've never kicked about work, no matter how much of it I've had. +But this thing's beginning to get on my nerves. Cheney is planning some +coup. I'm dead certain of that. What it's all about, though, I haven't +the least idea. The plans are being laid in the German-American Club and +there's no chance of getting in there." + +"How about bribing one of the employees to leave?" + +"Can't be done. I've tried it--half a dozen times. They're all Germans +and, as such, in the organization. However, I have a plan. Strictly +speaking, it's outside the law, but that's why I wanted to talk things +over with you...." + +When Randall had finished outlining his plan the chief sat for a moment +in thought. Then, "Are you sure you can put it over?" he inquired. + +"Of course I can. It's done every other day, anyhow, by the cops +themselves. Why shouldn't we take a leaf out of their book?" + +"I know. But there's always the possibility of a diplomatic protest." + +"Not in this case, Chief. The man's only a waiter and, besides, before +the embassy has a chance to hear about it I'll have found out what I +want to know. Then, if they want to raise a row, let 'em." + +The upshot of the matter was that, about a week later, Franz Heilman, a +waiter employed at the German-American Club in New York, was arrested +one night and haled into Night Court on a charge of carrying concealed +weapons--a serious offense under the Sullivan Act. In vain he protested +that he had never carried a pistol in his life. Patrolman Flaherty, who +had made the arrest, produced the weapon which he claimed to have found +in Heilman's possession and the prisoner was held for trial. + +Bright and early the next morning Randall, disguised by a mustache which +he had trained for just such an occasion and bearing a carefully +falsified letter from a German brewer in Milwaukee, presented himself at +the employee's entrance of the German-American Club and asked for the +steward. To that individual he told his story--how he had tried to get +back to the Fatherland and had failed, how he had been out of work for +nearly a month, and how he would like to secure employment of some kind +at the Club where he would at least be among friends. + +After a thorough examination of the credentials of the supposed +German--who had explained his accent by the statement that he had been +brought to the United States when very young and had been raised in +Wisconsin--the steward informed him that there was a temporary vacancy +in the Club staff which he could fill until Heilman returned. + +"The duties," the steward added, "are very light and the pay, while not +large, will enable you to lay by a little something toward your return +trip to Germany." + +Knowing that his time was limited, Randall determined to let nothing +stand in the way of his hearing all that went on in the room where +Cheney and his associates held their conferences. It was the work of +only a few moments to bore holes in the door which connected this room +with an unused coat closet--plugging up the holes with corks stained to +simulate the wood itself--and the instant the conference was on the new +waiter disappeared. + +An hour later he slipped out of the side entrance to the Club and the +steward is probably wondering to this day what became of him. Had he +been able to listen in on the private wire which connected the New York +office of the Secret Service with headquarters at Washington, he would +have had the key to the mystery. + +"Chief," reported Randall, "I've got the whole thing. There's a plot on +foot to raise one hundred and fifty thousand German reservists--men +already in this country--mobilizing them in four divisions, with six +sections. The first two divisions are to assemble at Silvercreek, +Michigan--the first one seizing the Welland Canal and the second +capturing Wind Mill Point, Ontario. The third is to meet at Wilson, N. +Y., and will march on Port Hope. The fourth will go from Watertown, N. +Y., to Kingston, Ontario, while the fifth will assemble somewhere near +Detroit and proceed toward Windsor. The sixth will stage an attack on +Ottawa, operating from Cornwall. + +"They've got their plans all laid for the coup, and Cheney reported +to-day that he intends to purchase some eighty-five boats to carry the +invading force into the Dominion. The only thing that's delaying the +game is the question of provisions for the army. Cheney's holding out +for another advance--from what I gathered he's already received a +lot--and claims that he will be powerless unless he gets it. I didn't +stay to listen to the argument, for I figured that I'd better leave +while the leaving was good." + +The reply that came back from Washington was rather startling to the +operative, who expected only commendation and the statement that his +task was completed. + +"What evidence have you that this invasion is planned?" + +"None besides what I heard through holes which I bored in one of the +doors of the German-American Club this morning." + +"That won't stand in court! We don't dare to arrest this man Cheney on +that. You've got to get something on him." + +"Plant it?" + +"No! Get it straight. And we can't wait for this expedition to start, +either. That would be taking too much of a chance. It's up to you to do +a little speedy work in the research line. Dig back into the count's +past and find something on which we can hold him, for he's very +evidently the brains of the organization, in spite of the fact that he +probably is working only for what he can get of that fund that the +Germans have raised. I understand that it's sixteen million dollars and +that's enough to tempt better men than Cheney. Now go to it, and +remember--you've got to work fast!" + +Disappointed, chagrined by the air of finality with which the receiver +at the Washington end of the line was hung up, Randall wandered out of +the New York office with a scowl on his face and deep lines of thought +between his eyes. If he hadn't been raised in the school which holds +that a man's only irretrievable mistake is to quit under fire, he'd have +thrown up his job right there and let some one else tackle the work of +landing the count. But he had to admit that the chief was right and, +besides, there was every reason to suppose that grave issues hung in the +balance. The invasion of Canada meant the overthrow of American +neutrality, the failure of the plans which the President and the State +Department had so carefully laid. + +Cheney was the crux of the whole situation. Once held on a charge that +could be proved in court, the plot would fall through for want of a +capable leader--for the operative had learned enough during his hour in +the cloak-room to know that "the count" was the mainspring of the whole +movement, despite the fact that he undoubtedly expected to reap a rich +financial harvest for himself. + +Selecting a seat on the top of a Fifth Avenue bus, Randall resigned +himself to a consideration of the problem. + +"The whole thing," he figured, "simmers down to Cheney himself. In its +ramifications, of course, it's a question of peace or war--but in +reality it's a matter of landing a crook by legitimate means. I can't +plant a gun on him, like they did on Heilman, and there's mighty little +chance of connecting him with the Branchfield case or the van Husen +emeralds at this late date. His conduct around town has certainly been +blameless enough. Not even any women to speak of. Wait a minute, though! +There were two. The blond from the Knickerbocker and that red-haired +dame. He's still chasing around with the blond--but what's become of +Miss Red-head?" + +This train of thought had possibilities. If the girl had been cast +aside, it was probable that she would have no objection to telling what +she knew--particularly as the color of her hair hinted at the possession +of what the owner would call "temperament," while the rest of the world +forgets to add the last syllable. + +It didn't take long to locate the owner of the fiery tresses. A quick +round-up of the head waiters at the cafes which Cheney frequented, a +taxi trip to Washington Square and another to the section above Columbus +Circle, and Randall found that the red-haired beauty was known as Olga +Brainerd, an artist's model, whose face had appeared upon the cover of +practically every popular publication in the country. She had been out +of town for the past two months, he learned, but had just returned and +had taken an apartment in a section of the city which indicated the +possession of considerable capital. + +"Miss Brainerd," said Randall, when he was face to face with the Titian +beauty in the drawing-room of her suite, "I came with a message from +your friend, Carl Cheney." + +Here he paused and watched her expression very closely. As he had hoped, +the girl was unable to master her feelings. Rage and hate wrote +themselves large across her face and her voice fairly snapped as she +started to reply. Randall, however, interrupted her with a smile and the +statement: + +"That's enough! I'm going to lay my cards face up on the table. I am a +Secret Service operative seeking information about Cheney. Here is my +badge, merely to prove that I'm telling the truth. We have reason to +believe that 'the Count,' as he is called, is mixed up with a pro-German +plot which, if successful, would imperil the peace of the country. Can +you tell us anything about him?" + +"Can I?" echoed the girl. "The beast! He promised to marry me, more than +two months ago, and then got infatuated with some blond chit of a chorus +girl. Just because I lost my head and showed him a letter I had +received--a letter warning me against him--he flew into a rage and +threatened.... Well, never mind what he did say. The upshot of the +affair was that he sent me out of town and gave me enough money to last +me some time. But he'll pay for his insults!" + +"Have you the letter you received?" asked Randall, casually--as if it +meant little to him whether the girl produced it or not. + +"Yes. I kept it. Wait a moment and I'll get it for you." A few seconds +later she was back with a note, written in a feminine hand--a note which +read: + + If you are wise you will ask the man who calls himself Carl + Cheney what he knows of Paul Weiss, of George Winters, and + Oscar Stanley. You might also inquire what has become of + Florence and Rose. + + (Signed) AMELIA. + +Randall looked up with a puzzled expression. "What's all this about?" he +inquired. "Sounds like Greek to me." + +"To me, too," agreed the girl. "But it was enough to make Carl purple +with rage and, what's more, to separate him from several thousand +dollars." + +"Weiss, Winters, and Stanley," mused Guy. "Those might easily be +Cheney's former aliases. Florence, Rose, and Amelia? I wonder.... Come +on, girl, we're going to take a ride down to City Hall! I've got a +hunch!" + +Late that afternoon when Carl Cheney arrived at his hotel he was +surprised to find a young man awaiting him in his apartment--a man who +appeared to be perfectly at ease and who slipped over and locked the +door once the count was safely within the room. + +"What does this mean?" demanded Cheney. "By what right--" + +"It means," snapped Randall, "that the game's up!" Then, raising his +voice, he called, "Mrs. Weiss!" and a tall woman parted the curtains at +the other end of the room; "Mrs. Winters!" and another woman entered; +"Mrs. Stanley!" and a third came in. With his fingers still caressing +the butt of the automatic which nestled in his coat pocket, Randall +continued: + +"Cheney--or whatever your real name is--there won't be any invasion of +Canada. We know all about your plans--in fact, the arsenal on West +Houston Street is in possession of the police at this moment. It was a +good idea and undoubtedly you would have cleaned up on it--were it not +for the fact that I am under the far from painful necessity of arresting +you on a charge of bigamy--or would you call it 'trigamy'? The records +at City Hall gave you away, after one of these ladies had been kind +enough to provide us with a clue to the three aliases under which you +conducted your matrimonial operations. + +"Come on, Count. The Germans may need you worse than we do--but we +happen to have you!" + + + + +XVI + +AFTER SEVEN YEARS + + +Bill Quinn was disgusted. Some one, evidently afflicted with an +ingrowing sense of humor, had sent him the prospectus of a "school" +which professed to be able to teach budding aspirants the art of +becoming a successful detective for the sum of twenty-five dollars, and +Quinn couldn't appreciate the humor. + +"_How to Become a Detective--in Ten Lessons_," he snorted. "It only +takes one for the man who's got the right stuff in him, and the man that +hasn't better stay out of the game altogether." + +"Well," I retorted, anxious to stir up any kind of an argument that +might lead to one of Quinn's tales about the exploits of Uncle Sam's +sleuths, "just what does it take to make a detective?" + +It was a moment or two before Quinn replied. Then: "There are only three +qualities necessary," he replied. "Common sense, the power of +observation, and perseverance. Given these three, with possibly a dash +of luck thrown in for good measure, and you'll have a crime expert who +could stand the heroes of fiction on their heads. + +"Take Larry Simmons, for example. No one would ever have accused him of +having the qualifications of a detective--any more than they would have +suspected him of being one. But Larry drew a good-sized salary from the +Bureau of Pensions because he possessed the three qualities I mentioned. +He had the common sense of a physician, the observation of a trained +newspaper reporter, and the perseverance of a bulldog. Once he sunk his +teeth in a problem he never let loose--which was the reason that very +few people ever put anything over on the Pension Bureau as long as Larry +was on the job. + +"That cap up there," and Quinn pointed to a stained and dilapidated bit +of headgear which hung upon the wall of his den, "is a memento of one of +Simmons's cases. The man who bought it would tell you that I'm dead +right when I say that Larry was persevering. That's putting it mildly." + + * * * * * + +Quite a while back [continued Quinn, picking up the thread of his story] +there was a man out in Saint Joseph, Missouri, named Dave Holden. No one +appeared to know where he came from and, as he conducted himself quietly +and didn't mix in with his neighbors' affairs, no one cared very much. + +Holden hadn't been in town more than a couple of weeks when one of the +older inhabitants happened to inquire if he were any kin to "Old Dave +Holden," who had died only a year or two before. + +"No," said Holden, "I don't believe I am. My folks all came from Ohio +and I understand that this Holden was a Missourian." + +"That's right," agreed the other, "and a queer character, too. Guess he +was pretty nigh the only man that fought on the Union side in the Civil +War that didn't stick th' government for a pension. Had it comin' to +him, too, 'cause he was a captain when th' war ended. But he always said +he didn't consider that Uncle Sam owed him anything for doin' his duty. +Spite of th' protests of his friends, Dave wouldn't ever sign a pension +blank, either." + +A few more questions, carefully directed, gave Holden the history of his +namesake, and that night he lay awake trying to figure out whether the +plan which had popped into his head was safe. It promised some easy +money, but there was the element of risk to be considered. + +"After all," he concluded, "I won't be doing anything that isn't +strictly within the law. My name is David Holden--just as the old man's +was. The worst that they can do is to turn down the application. I won't +be committing forgery or anything of the kind. And maybe it'll slip +through--which would mean a pile of money, because they'll kick in with +all that accumulated during the past fifty years." + +So it was that, in the course of time, an application was filed at the +Bureau of Pensions in Washington for a pension due "David Holden" of +Saint Joseph, Missouri, who had fought in the Civil War with the rank of +captain. But, when the application had been sent over to the War +Department so that it might be compared with the records on file there, +it came back with the red-inked notation that "Capt. David Holden had +died two years before"--giving the precise date of his demise as +evidence. + +The moment that the document reached the desk of the Supervisor of +Pensions he pressed one of the little pearl buttons in front of him and +asked that Larry Simmons be sent in. When Larry arrived the chief handed +him the application without a word. + +"Right! I'll look into this," said Larry, folding the paper and slipping +it into the pocket of his coat. + +"Look into it?" echoed the supervisor. "You'll do more than that! You'll +locate this man Holden--or whatever his right name is--and see that he +gets all that's coming to him. There've been too many of these cases +lately. Apparently people think that all they have to do is to file an +application for a pension and then go off and spend the money. Catch the +first train for Saint Joe and wire me when you've landed your man. The +district attorney will attend to the rest of the matter." + +The location of David Holden, as Simmons found, was not the simplest of +jobs. The pension applicant, being comparatively a newcomer, was not +well known in town, and Simmons finally had to fall back upon the +expedient of watching the post-office box which Holden had given as his +address, framing a dummy letter so that the suspect might not think that +he was being watched. + +Holden, however, had rented the box for the sole purpose of receiving +mail from the Pension Bureau. He had given the number to no one else and +the fact that the box contained what appeared to be an advertisement +from a clothing store made him stop and wonder. By that time, however, +Simmons had him well in sight and followed him to the boarding-house on +the outskirts of the town where he was staying. + +That evening, while he was still wondering at the enterprise of a store +that could obtain a post-office box number from a government bureau at +Washington, the solution of the mystery came to him in a decidedly +unexpected manner. The house in which Holden was staying was +old-fashioned, one of the kind that are heated, theoretically at least, +by "registers," open gratings in the wall. Holden's room was directly +over the parlor on the first floor and the shaft which carried the hot +air made an excellent sound-transmitter. + +It so happened that Simmons, after having made a number of inquiries +around town about the original Dave Holden, called at the boarding +house that night to discover what the landlady knew about the other man +of the same name, who was seated in the room above. + +Suddenly, like a voice from nowhere, came the statement in a +high-pitched feminine voice: "I really don't know anything about him at +all. Mr. Holden came here about six weeks ago and asked me to take him +in to board. He seemed to be a very nice, quiet gentleman, who was +willing to pay his rent in advance. So I let him have one of the best +rooms in the house." + +At the mention of his name Holden listened intently. Who was inquiring +about him, and why? + +There was only a confused mumble--apparently a man's reply, pitched in a +low tone--and then the voice of the landlady again came clearly through +the register: + +"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't do anything like that. Mr. Holden is...." + +But that was all that the pension applicant waited for. Moving with the +rapidity of a frightened animal, he secured one or two articles of value +from his dresser, crammed a hat into his pocket, slipped on a raincoat, +and vaulted out of the window, alighting on the sloping roof of a shed +just below. Before he had quitted the room, however, he had caught the +words "arrest on a charge of attempting to obtain money under false +pretenses." + +Some two minutes later there was a knock on his door and a voice +demanded admittance. There was no reply. Again the demand, followed by a +rattling of the doorknob and a tentative shake of the door. In all, it +was probably less than five minutes after Larry Simmons had entered the +parlor before he had burst in the door of Holden's room. But the bird +had flown and the open window pointed to the direction of his flight. + +Unfortunately for the operative the night was dark and the fugitive was +decidedly more familiar with the surrounding country than Larry was. By +the time he had secured the assistance of the police half an hour had +elapsed, and there weren't even any telltale footprints to show in which +direction the missing man had gone. + +"See that men are placed so as to guard the railroad station," Simmons +directed, "and pass the word up and down the line that a medium-sized +man, about thirty-five years of age, with black hair and a rather ruddy +complexion--a man wanted by the government on a charge of false +pretenses--is trying to make his escape. If anyone reports him, let me +know at once." + +That, under the circumstances, was really all that Larry could do. It +ought to be an easy matter to locate the fugitive, he figured, and it +would only be a question of a few days before he was safely in jail. + +Bright and early the next morning the operative was awakened by a +bell-boy who informed him that the chief of police would like to see +him. + +"Show him in," said Larry, fully expecting to see the chief enter with a +handcuffed prisoner. But the head of the police force came in alone, +carrying a bundle, which he gravely presented to Simmons. + +"What's this?" inquired the pension agent. + +"All that's left of your friend Holden," was the reply. "One of my men +reported late last night that he had heard a splash in the river as +though some one had jumped off the wharf, but he couldn't find out +anything more. To tell the truth, he didn't look very hard--because we +had our hands full with a robbery of Green's clothing store. Some one +broke in there and--" + +"Yes--but what about Holden?" Simmons interrupted. + +"Guess you'll have to drag the river for him," answered the chief. "We +found his coat and vest and raincoat on the dock this mornin', and on +top of them was this note, addressed to you." + +The note, as Larry found an instant later, read: + + I'd rather die in the river than go to jail. Tell your boss + that he can pay two pensions now--one for each of the Dave + Holdens. + +The signature, almost illegible, was that of "David Holden (Number +two)." + +"No doubt that your man heard the splash when Holden went overboard last +night?" inquired the operative. + +"Not the least in the world. He told me about it, but I didn't connect +it with the man you were after, and, besides, I was too busy right then +to give it much thought." + +"Any chance of recovering the body?" + +"Mighty little at this time of the year. The current's good and strong +an' the chances are that he won't turn up this side of the Mississippi, +if then. It was only by accident that we found his cap. It had lodged +under the dock and we fished it out less 'n half an hour ago--" and the +chief pointed to a water-soaked piece of cloth which Simmons recognized +as the one which Holden had been wearing the evening before. + +"Well, I don't suppose there's anything more that we can do," admitted +Larry. "I'd like to have the river dragged as much as possible, though I +agree with you that the chances for recovering the body are very slim. +Will you look after that?" + +"Sure I will, and anything else you want done." The chief was nothing if +not obliging--a fact which Simmons incorporated in his official report, +which he filed a few days later, a report which stated that "David +Holden, wanted on a charge of attempting to obtain money under false +pretenses, had committed suicide by drowning rather than submit to +arrest." + + The body has not been recovered [the report admitted], but + this is not to be considered unusual at this time of the year + when the current is very strong. The note left by the + fugitive is attached. + +Back from Washington came the wire: + + Better luck next time. Anyhow, Holden won't bother us again. + +If this were a moving picture [Quinn continued, after a pause], there +would be a subtitle here announcing the fact that seven years are +supposed to elapse. There also probably would be a highly decorated +explanatory title informing the audience that "Uncle Sam Never Forgets +Nor Forgives"--a fact that is so perfectly true that it's a marvel that +people persist in trying to beat the government. Then the scene of the +film would shift to Seattle, Washington. + +They would have to cut back a little to make it clear that Larry Simmons +had, in the meantime, left the Pension Bureau and entered the employment +of the Post-office Department, being desirous of a little more +excitement and a few more thrills than his former job afforded. But he +was still working for Uncle Sam, and his memory--like that of his +employer--was long and tenacious. + +One of the minor cases which had been bothering the department for some +time past was that of a ring of fortune-tellers who, securing +information in devious ways, would pretend that it had come to them from +the spirit world and use it for purposes which closely approximated +blackmail. Simmons, being in San Francisco at the time, was ordered to +proceed to Seattle and look into the matter. + +Posing as a gentleman of leisure with plenty of money and but little +care as to the way in which he spent it, it wasn't long before he was +steered into what appeared to be the very center of the ring--the +residence of a Madame Ahara, who professed to be able to read the stars, +commune with spirits, and otherwise obtain information of an occult +type. There Larry went through all the usual stages--palmistry, +spiritualism, and clairvoyance--and chuckled when he found, after his +third visit, that his pocket had been picked of a letter purporting to +contain the facts about an escapade in which he had been mixed up a few +years ago. The letter, of course, was a plant placed there for the sole +purpose of providing a lead for madame and her associates to follow. And +they weren't long in taking the tip. + +The very next afternoon the government agent received a telephone call +notifying him that madame had some news of great importance which she +desired to impart--information which had come to her from the other +world and in which she felt certain he would be interested. + +Larry asked if he might bring a friend with him, but the request--as he +had expected--was promptly refused. The would-be blackmailers were too +clever to allow first-hand evidence to be produced against them. They +wished to deal only with principals or, as madame informed him over the +phone, "the message was of such a nature that only he should hear it." + +"Very well," replied Simmons, "I'll be there at eleven this evening." + +It was not his purpose to force the issue at this time. In fact, he +planned to submit to the first demand for money and trust to the +confidence which this would inspire to render the blackmailers less +cautious in the future. But something occurred which upset the entire +scheme and, for a time at least, threatened disaster to the Post-office +schemes. + +Thinking that it might be well to look the ground over before dark, +Larry strolled out to Madame Ahara's about five o'clock in the afternoon +and took up his position on the opposite side of the street, studying +the house from every angle. While he was standing there a man came +out--a man who was dressed in the height of fashion, but whose face was +somehow vaguely familiar. The tightly waxed mustache and the iron-gray +goatee seemed out of place, for Simmons felt that the last time he had +seen the man he had been clean shaven. + +"Where was it?" he thought, as he kept the man in sight, though on the +opposite side of the street. "New York? No. Washington? Hardly. Saint +Louis? No, it was somewhere where he was wearing a cap--a cap that was +water-stained and ... I've got it! In Saint Joseph! The man who +committed suicide the night I went to arrest him for attempting to +defraud the Pension Bureau! It's he, sure as shooting!" + +But just as Simmons started to cross the street the traffic cop raised +his arm, and when the apparently interminable stream of machines had +passed, the man with the mustache was nowhere to be seen. He had +probably slipped into one of the near-by office buildings. But which? +That was a question which worried Larry for a moment or two. Then he +came to the conclusion that there was no sense in trying to find his man +at this moment. The very fact that he was in Seattle was enough. The +police could find him with little difficulty. + +But what had Holden been doing at the clairvoyant's? Had he fallen into +the power of the ring or was it possible that he was one of the +blackmailers himself? + +The more Larry thought about the matter, the more he came to the +conclusion that here was an opportunity to kill two birds with a single +stone--to drive home at least the entering wedge of the campaign against +the clairvoyants and at the same time to land the man who had eluded him +seven years before. + +The plan which he finally evolved was daring, but he realized that the +element of time was essential. Holden must not be given another +opportunity to slip through the net. + +That night when Larry kept his appointment at madame's he saw to it that +a cordon of police was thrown around the entire block, with instructions +to allow no one to leave until after a prearranged signal. + +"Don't prevent anyone from coming into the house," Simmons directed, +"but see that not a soul gets away from it. Also, you might be on the +lookout for trouble. The crowd's apt to get nasty and we can't afford to +take chances with them." + +A tall dark-skinned man, attired in an Arabian burnoose and wearing a +turban, answered the ring at the door, precisely as Larry +anticipated--for the stage was always well set to impress visitors. +Madame herself never appeared in the richly decorated room where the +crystal-gazing seances were held, preferring to remain in the background +and to allow a girl, who went by the name of Yvette, to handle visitors, +the explanation being that "Madame receives the spirit messages and +transmits them to Yvette, her assistant." + +Simmons therefore knew that, instead of dealing with an older and +presumably more experienced woman, he would only have to handle a girl, +and it was upon this that he placed his principal reliance. + +Everything went along strictly according to schedule. Yvette, seated on +the opposite side of a large crystal ball in which she read strange +messages from the other world--visions transmitted from the cellar by +means of a cleverly constructed series of mirrors--told the operative +everything that had been outlined in the letter taken from his pocket on +the preceding night, adding additional touches founded on facts which +Larry had been "careless" enough to let slip during his previous visits. +Then she concluded with a very thinly veiled threat of blackmail if the +visitor did not care to kick in with a certain sum of money. + +Larry listened to the whole palaver in silence, but his eyes were busy +trying to pierce the dim light in which the room was shrouded. So far as +he could see, the door through which he had entered formed the only +means of getting into the room--but there were a number of rugs and +draperies upon the walls, any one of which might easily mask a doorway. + +When the girl had finished, the operative leaned forward and hitched his +chair around so that he could speak in a whisper. + +"If you know what's good for you," he cautioned, "don't move! I've got +you covered, in the first place, and, secondly, there's a solid cordon +of police around this house! Careful--not a sound! I'm not after you. I +want the people who're behind you. Madame and her associates. This +blackmailing game has gone about far enough, but I'll see that you get +off with a suspended sentence if you do as I tell you. If not--" and the +very abruptness with which he stopped made the threat all the more +convincing. + +"What--what do you want me to do?" stammered the girl, her voice barely +audible. + +"Turn state's evidence and tip me off to everyone who's in on this +thing," was Larry's reply, couched in the lowest of tones. "There's not +a chance of escape for any of you, so you might as well do it and get it +over with. Besides that, I want to know where I can find a man with a +waxed mustache and iron-gray goatee who left this house at ten minutes +past five this afternoon." + +"Madame!" exclaimed the girl. "Davidson!" + +"Yes--Madame and Davidson, if that's the name he goes by now. It was +Holden the last time I saw him." + +"He"--and the girl's voice was a mere breath--"he is madame!" + +"What?" + +"Yes, there is no Madame Ahara. Davidson runs the whole thing. He is--" + +But at that moment one of the rugs on the wall which Larry was facing +swung outward and a man sprang into the room, a man whose face was +purple with rage and who leaped sidewise as he saw Larry's hand snap an +automatic into view above the pedestal on which the crystal ball +reposed. In a flash Simmons recognized two things--his danger and the +fact that the man who had just entered was Holden, alias Davidson, +blackmailer and potential thief. + +Before the government agent had time to aim the head of the clairvoyant +ring fired. But his bullet, instead of striking Larry, shattered the +crystal ball into fragments and the room was plunged into total +darkness. In spite of the fact that he knew the shot would bring speedy +relief from outside the house, Simmons determined to capture his man +single-handed and alive. Half-leaping, half-falling from the chair in +which he had been seated, the operative sprang forward in an attempt to +nail his man while the latter was still dazed by the darkness. But his +foot, catching in one of the thick rugs which carpeted the floor, +tripped him and he fell--a bullet from the other's revolver plowing +through the fleshy part of his arm. + +The flash, however, showed him the position of his adversary, and it was +the work of only a moment to slip forward and seize the blackmailer +around the waist, his right hand gripping the man's wrist and forcing it +upward so that he was powerless to use his revolver. For a full minute +they wrestled in the inky darkness, oblivious to the fact that the sound +of blows on the outer door indicated the arrival of reinforcements. + +Then suddenly Larry let go of the blackmailer's arm and, whirling him +rapidly around, secured a half nelson that threatened to dislocate his +neck. + +"Drop it!" he snarled. "Drop that gun before I wring your head off!" and +the muffled thud as the revolver struck the floor was the signal that +Holden had surrendered. A moment later the light in the center of the +room was snapped on and the police sergeant inquired if Larry needed any +assistance. + +"No," replied Simmons, grimly, "but you might lend me a pair of +bracelets. This bird got away from me once, some seven years ago, and +I'm not taking any more chances!" + + + + +XVII + +THE POISON-PEN PUZZLE + + +Beside the bookcase in the room which Bill Quinn likes to dignify by the +name of "library"--though it's only a den, ornamented with relics of +scores of cases in which members of the different government detective +services have figured--hangs a frame containing four letters, each in a +different handwriting. + +Beyond the fact that these letters obviously refer to some secret in the +lives of the persons to whom they are addressed, there is little about +them that is out of the ordinary. A close observer, however, would note +that in none of the four is the secret openly stated. It is only hinted +at, suggested, but by that very fact it becomes more mysterious and +alarming. + +It was upon this that I commented one evening as I sat, discussing +things in general, with Quinn. + +"Yes," he agreed, "the writer of those letters was certainly a genius. +As an author or as an advertising writer or in almost any other +profession where a mastery of words and the ability to leave much to the +imagination is a distinct asset, they would have made a big success." + +"They?" I inquired. "Did more than one person write the letters?" + +"Don't look like the writing of the same person, do they?" countered +Quinn. "Besides, that was one of the many phases of the matter which +puzzled Elmer Allison, and raised the case above the dead level of +ordinary blackmailing schemes." + + * * * * * + +Allison [Quinn went on, settling comfortably back in his big armchair] +was, as you probably remember, one of the star men of the Postal +Inspection Service, the chap who solved the mystery of the lost one +hundred thousand dollars in Columbus. In fact, he had barely cleared up +the tangle connected with the letters when assigned to look into the +affair of the missing money, with what results you already know. + +The poison-pen puzzle, as it came to be known in the department, first +bobbed up some six months before Allison tackled it. At least, that was +when it came to the attention of the Postal Inspection Service. It's +more than likely that the letters had been arriving for some time +previous to that, because one of the beauties of any blackmailing +scheme--such as this one appeared to be--is that 90 per cent of the +victims fear to bring the matter to the attention of the law. They much +prefer to suffer in silence, kicking in with the amounts demanded, than +to risk the exposure of their family skeletons by appealing to the +proper authorities. + +A man by the name of Tyson, who lived in Madison, Wisconsin, was the +first to complain. He informed the postmaster in his city that his wife +had received two letters, apparently in a feminine handwriting, which he +considered to be very thinly veiled attempts at blackmailing. + +Neither of the letters was long. Just a sentence or two. But their +ingenuity lay in what they suggested rather than in their actual +threats. + +The first one read: + + Does your husband know the details of that trip to Fond du + Lac? He might be interested in what Hastings has to tell him. + +The second, which arrived some ten days later, announced: + + The photograph of the register of a certain hotel in Fond du + Lac for June 8 might be of interest to your husband--who can + tell? + +That was all there was to them, but it doesn't take an expert in plot +building to think of a dozen stories that could lie back of that +supposedly clandestine trip on the eighth of June. + +Tyson didn't go into particulars at the time. He contented himself with +turning the letters over to the department, with the request that the +matter be looked into at once. Said that his wife had handed them to him +and that he knew nothing more about the matter. + +All that the postal authorities could do at the time was to instruct him +to bring in any subsequent communications. But, as the letters stopped +suddenly and Tyson absolutely refused to state whether he knew of anyone +who might be interested in causing trouble between his wife and himself, +there was nothing further to be done. Tracing a single letter, or even +two of them, is like looking for a certain star on a clear night--you've +got to know where to look before you have a chance of finding it--and +the postmark on the letters wasn't of the least assistance. + +Some three or four weeks later a similar case cropped up. This time it +was a woman who brought in the letters--a woman who was red-eyed from +lack of sleep and worry. Again the communications referred to a definite +escapade, but still they made no open demand for money. + +By the time the third case cropped up the postal authorities in Madison +were appealing to Washington for assistance. Before Bolton and Clarke, +the two inspectors originally assigned to the case, could reach the +Wisconsin capital another set of the mysterious communications had been +received and called to the attention of the department. + +During the three months which followed no less than six complaints were +filed, all of them alleging the receipt of veiled threats, and neither +the local authorities nor the men from Washington could find a single +nail on which to hang a theory. Finally affairs reached such a stage +that the chief sent for Allison, who had already made something of a +name for himself, and told him to get on the job. + +"Better make the first train for Madison," were the directions which +Elmer received. "So far as we can tell, this appears to be the scheme of +some crazy woman, intent upon causing domestic disturbances, rather than +a well-laid blackmailing plot. There's no report of any actual demand +for money. Just threats or suggestions of revelations which would cause +family dissension. I don't have to tell you that it's wise to keep the +whole business away from the papers as long as you can. They'll get next +to it some time, of course, but if we can keep it quiet until we've +landed the author of the notes it'll be a whole lot better for the +reputation of the department. + +"Bolton and Clarke are in Madison now, but their reports are far from +satisfactory, so you better do a little investigating of your own. +You'll have full authority to handle the case any way that you see fit. +All we ask is action--before somebody stirs up a real row about the +inefficiency of the Service and all that rot." + +Elmer smiled grimly, knowing the difficulties under which the department +worked, difficulties which make it hard for any bureau to obtain the +full facts in a case without being pestered by politicians and harried +by local interests which are far from friendly. For this reason you +seldom know that Uncle Sam is conducting an investigation until the +whole thing is over and done with and the results are ready to be +presented to the grand jury. Premature publicity has ruined many cases +and prevented many a detective from landing the men he's after, which +was the reason that Allison slipped into town on rubber heels, and his +appearance at the office of the postmaster was the first indication that +official had of his arrival. + +"Mr. Gordon," said Allison, after they had completed the usual +preliminaries connected with credentials and so forth, "I want to tackle +this case just as if I were the first man who had been called in. I +understand that comparatively little progress has been made--" + +"'Comparatively little' is good," chuckled the postmaster. + +"And I don't wish to be hindered by any erroneous theories which may +have been built up. So if you don't mind we'll run over the whole thing +from the beginning." + +"Well," replied the postmaster, "you know about the Tyson letters and--" + +"I don't know about a thing," Elmer cut in. "Or at least we'll work on +the assumption that I don't. Then I'll be sure not to miss any points +and at the same time I'll get a fresh outline of the entire situation." + +Some two hours later Postmaster Gordon finished his resume of the +various cases which were puzzling the police and the postal officials, +for a number of the best men on the police force had been quietly at +work trying to trace the poison-pen letters. + +"Are these all the letters that have been received?" Allison inquired, +indicating some thirty communications which lay before him on the desk. + +"All that have been called to the attention of this office. Of course, +there's no telling how many more have been written, about which no +complaint has been made. Knowing human nature, I should say that at +least three times that number have been received and possibly paid for. +But the recipients didn't report the matter--for reasons best known to +themselves. As a matter of fact--But you're not interested in gossip." + +"I most certainly am!" declared Allison. "When you're handling a matter +of this kind, where back-stairs intrigue and servants-hall talk is +likely to play a large part, gossip forms a most important factor. What +does Dame Rumor say in this case?" + +"So far as these letters are concerned, nothing at all. Certain +influences, which it's hardly necessary to explain in detail, have kept +this affair out of the papers--but gossip has it that at least three +divorces within as many months have been caused by the receipt of +anonymous letters, and that there are a number of other homes which are +on the verge of being broken up for a similar reason." + +"That would appear to bear out your contention that other people have +received letters like these, but preferred to take private action upon +them. Also that, if blackmail were attempted, it sometimes +failed--otherwise the matter wouldn't have gotten as far as the divorce +court." + +Then, after a careful study of several of the sample letters on the +desk, Allison continued, "I suppose you have noted the fact that no two +of these appear to have been written by the same person?" + +"Yes, but that is a point upon which handwriting experts fail to agree. +Some of them claim that each was written by a different person. Others +maintain that one woman was responsible for all of them, and a third +school holds that either two or three people wrote them. What're you +going to do when experts disagree?" + +"Don't worry about any of 'em," retorted Allison. "If we're successful +at all we won't have much trouble in proving our case without the +assistance of a bunch of so-called experts who only gum up the testimony +with long words that a jury can't understand. Where are the envelopes in +which these letters were mailed?" + +"Most of the people who brought them in failed to keep the envelopes. +But we did manage to dig up a few. Here they are," and the postmaster +tossed over a packet of about half a dozen, of various shapes and sizes. + +"Hum!" mused the postal operative, "all comparatively inexpensive +stationery. Might have been bought at nearly any corner drug store. Any +clue in the postmarks?" + +"Not the slightest. As you will note, they were mailed either at the +central post office or at the railroad station--places so public that +it's impossible to keep a strict watch for the person who mailed 'em. In +one case--that of the Osgoods--we cautioned the wife to say nothing +whatever about the matter, and then ordered every clerk in the post +office to look out for letters in that handwriting which might be +slipped through the slot. In fact, we closed all the slots save one and +placed a man on guard inside night and day." + +"Well, what happened?" inquired Allison, a trifle impatiently, as the +postmaster paused. + +"The joke was on us. Some two days later a letter which looked +suspiciously like these was mailed. Our man caught it in time to dart +outside and nail the person who posted it. Fortunately we discovered +that she was Mrs. Osgood's sister-in-law and that the letter was a +perfectly innocent one." + +"No chance of her being mixed up in the affair?" + +"No. Her husband is a prominent lawyer here, and, besides, we've watched +every move she's made since that time. She's one of the few people in +town that we're certain of." + +"Yet, you say her handwriting was similar to that which appears on these +letters?" + +"Yes, that's one of the many puzzling phases of the whole matter. Every +single letter is written in a hand which closely resembles that of a +relative of the person to whom it is addressed! So much so, in fact, +that at least four of the complainants have insisted upon the arrest of +these relatives, and have been distinctly displeased at our refusal to +place them in jail merely because their handwriting is similar to that +of a blackmailer." + +"Why do you say blackmailer? Do you know of any demand for money which +has been made?" + +"Not directly--but what other purpose could a person have than to +extract money? They'd hardly run the risk of going to the pen in order +to gratify a whim for causing trouble." + +"How about the Tysons and the Osgoods and the other people who brought +these letters in--didn't they receive subsequent demands for money?" + +"They received nothing--not another single letter of any kind." + +"You mean that the simple fact of making a report to your office +appeared to stop the receipt of the threats." + +"Precisely. Now that you put it that way, it does look odd. But that's +what happened." + +Allison whistled. This was the first ray of light that had penetrated a +very dark and mysterious case, and, with its aid, he felt that he might, +after all, be successful. + +Contenting himself with a few more questions, including the names of +the couples whom gossip stated had been separated through the receipt of +anonymous communications, Allison bundled the letters together and +slipped them into his pocket. + +"It's quite possible," he stated, as he opened the door leading out of +the postmaster's private office, "that you won't hear anything more from +me for some time. I hardly think it would be wise to report here too +often, or that if you happen to run into me on the street that you would +register recognition. I won't be using the name of Allison, anyhow, but +that of Gregg--Alvin Gregg--who has made a fortune in the operation of +chain stores and is looking over the field with a view to establishing +connections here. Gregg, by the way, is stopping at the Majestic Hotel, +if you care to reach him," and with that he was gone. + +Allison's first move after establishing his identity at the hotel, was +to send a wire to a certain Alice Norcross in Chicago--a wire which +informed her that "My sister, Mrs. Mabel Kennedy, requests your presence +in Madison, Wisconsin. Urgent and immediate." The signature was "Alvin +Gregg, E. A.," and to an inquisitive telegraph operator who inquired the +meaning of the initials, Allison replied: "Electrical Assistant, of +course," and walked away before the matter could be further discussed. + +The next evening Mrs. Mabel Kennedy registered at the Majestic Hotel, +and went up to the room which Mr. Gregg had reserved for her--the one +next to his. + +"It's all right, Alice," he informed her a few moments later, after a +careful survey had satisfied him that the hall was clear of prying ears. +"I told them all about you--that you were my sister 'n' everything. So +it's quite respectable." + +"Mrs. Kennedy," or Alice Norcross, as she was known to the members of +the Postal Service whom she had assisted on more than one occasion when +the services of a woman with brains were demanded, merely smiled and +continued to fix her hair before the mirror. + +"I'm not worrying about that," she replied. "You boys can always be +trusted to arrange the details--but traveling always did play the +dickens with my hair! What's the idea, anyhow? Why am I Mrs. Mabel +Kennedy, and what's she supposed to do?" + +In a few words Allison outlined what he was up against--evidently the +operation of a very skillful gang of blackmailers who were not only +perfectly sure of their facts, but who didn't run any risks until their +victims were too thoroughly cowed to offer any resistance. + +"The only weak spot in the whole plan," concluded the operative, "is +that the letters invariably cease when the prospective victims lay their +case before the postmaster." + +"You mean that you think he's implicated?" + +"No--but some one in his office is!" snapped Allison. "Else how would +they know when to lay off? That's the only lead we have, and I don't +want to work from it, but up to it. Do you know anyone who's socially +prominent in Madison?" + +"Not a soul, but it's no trick to get letters of introduction--even for +Mrs. Mabel Kennedy." + +"Fine! Go to it! The minute you get 'em start a social campaign here. +Stage several luncheons, bridge parties, and the like. Be sure to create +the impression of a woman of means--and if you can drop a few hints +about your none too spotless past, so much the better." + +"You want to draw their fire, eh?" + +"Precisely. It's unfortunate that we can't rig up a husband for +you--that would make things easier, but when it's known that I, Alvin +Gregg, am your brother, I think it's more than likely that they'll risk +a couple of shots." + +It was about a month later that Mrs. Kennedy called up her brother at +the Hotel Majestic and asked him to come over to her apartment at once. + +"Something stirring?" inquired Allison as he entered the drawing-room of +the suite which his assistant had rented in order to bolster up her +social campaign. + +"The first nibble," replied the girl, holding out a sheet of +violet-tinted paper, on which appeared the words: + + Of course your brother and your friends know all about the + night you spent alone with a certain man in a cabin in the + Sierras? + +"Great Scott!" ejaculated Allison. "Do you mean to say it worked?" + +"Like clockwork," was the girl's reply. "Acting on your instructions, I +made a special play for Snaith, the postmaster's confidential secretary +and general assistant. I invited him to several of my parties and paid +particular attention to what I said when he was around. The first night +I got off some clever little remark about conventions--laughing at the +fact that it was all right for a woman to spend a day with a man, but +hardly respectable for her to spend the evening. The next time he was +there--and he was the only one in the party who had been present on the +previous occasion--I turned the conversation to snowstorms and admitted +that I had once been trapped in a storm in the Sierra Nevadas and had +been forced to spend the night in a cabin. But I didn't say anything +then about any companion. The third evening--when an entirely different +crowd, with the exception of Snaith, was present--some one brought up +the subject of what constitutes a gentleman, and my contribution was a +speech to the effect that 'one never knows what a man is until he is +placed in a position where his brute instincts would naturally come to +the front.' + +"Not a single one of those remarks was incriminating or even +suspicious--but it didn't take a master mind to add them together and +make this note! Snaith was the only man who could add them, because he +was the only one who was present when they were all made!" + +"Fine work!" applauded Allison. "But there's one point you've +overlooked. This letter, unlike the rest of its kind, is postmarked +Kansas City, while Snaith was here day before yesterday when this was +mailed. I know, because Clarke's been camping on his trail for the past +three weeks." + +"Then that means--" + +"That Snaith is only one of the gang--the stool-pigeon--or, in this +case, the lounge-lizard--who collects the information and passes it on +to his chief? Exactly. Now, having Mr. Snaith where I want him and +knowing pretty well how to deal with his breed, I think the rest will be +easy. I knew that somebody in the postmaster's office must be mixed up +in the affair and your very astute friend was the most likely prospect. +Congratulations on landing him so neatly!" + +"Thanks," said the girl, "but what next?" + +"For you, not a thing. You've handled your part to perfection. The rest +is likely to entail a considerable amount of strong-arm work, and I'd +rather not have you around. Might cramp my style." + +That night--or, rather, about three o'clock on the following +morning--Sylvester Snaith, confidential secretary to the postmaster of +Madison, was awakened by the sound of some one moving stealthily about +the bedroom of his bachelor apartment. Before he could utter a sound +the beam of light from an electric torch blazed in his eyes and a curt +voice from the darkness ordered him to put up his hands. Then: + +"What do you know about the anonymous letters which have been sent to a +number of persons in this city?" demanded the voice. + +"Not--not a thing," stammered the clerk, trying to collect his badly +scattered senses. + +"That's a lie! We know that you supplied the information upon which +those letters were based! Now come through with the whole dope or, by +hell I'll--" the blue-steel muzzle of an automatic which was visible +just outside the path of light from the torch completed the threat. +Snaith, thoroughly cowed, "came through"--told more than even Allison +had hoped for when he had planned the night raid on a man whom he had +sized up as a physical coward. + +Less than an hour after the secretary had finished, Elmer was on his way +to Kansas City, armed with information which he proceeded to lay before +the chief of police. + +"'Spencerian Peter,' eh?" grunted the chief. "Sure, I know where to lay +my hands on him--been watching him more or less ever since he got out of +Leavenworth a couple of years back. But I never connected him with this +case." + +"What do you mean--this case?" demanded Allison. "Did you know anything +about the poison-pen letters in Madison?" + +"Madison? No--but I know about the ones that have set certain people +here by the ears for the past month. I thought that was what you wanted +him for. Evidently the game isn't new." + +"Far from it," Elmer replied. "I don't know how much he cleaned up in +Wisconsin, but I'll bet he got away with a nice pile. Had a social pet +there, who happened to be the postmaster's right-hand man, collect the +scandal for him and then he'd fix up the letters--faking some relative's +handwriting with that infernal skill of his. Then his Man Friday would +tip him off when they made a holler to headquarters and he'd look for +other suckers rather than run the risk of getting the department on his +trail by playing the same fish too long. That's what finally gave him +away--that and the fact that his assistant was bluffed by an electric +torch and an empty gun." + +"Well, I'll be hanged," muttered the chief. "You might have been +explaining the situation here--except that we don't know who his society +informant is. I think we better drop in for a call on 'Spencerian' this +evening." + + * * * * * + +"The call was made on scheduled time," Quinn concluded, "but it was +hardly of a social nature. You wouldn't expect a post-office operative, +a chief of police, and half a dozen cops to stage a pink tea. Their +methods are inclined to be a trifle more abrupt--though Pete, as it +happened, didn't attempt to pull any rough stuff. He dropped his gun the +moment he saw how many guests were present, and it wasn't very long +before they presented him with a formal invitation to resume his none +too comfortable but extremely exclusive apartment in Leavenworth. +Snaith, being only an accomplice, got off with two years. The man who +wrote the letters and who was the principal beneficiary of the money +which they produced, drew ten." + +"And who got the credit for solving the puzzle?" I inquired. "Allison or +the Norcross girl?" + +"Allison," replied Quinn. "Alice Norcross only worked on condition that +her connection with the Service be kept quite as much of a secret as +the fact that her real name was Mrs. Elmer Allison." + +"What? She was Allison's wife?" I demanded. + +"Quite so," said the former operative. "If you don't believe me, there's +a piece of her wedding dress draped over that picture up there," and he +pointed to a strip of white silk that hung over one of the framed +photographs on the wall. + +"But I thought you said--" + +"That that was part of the famous thirty thousand yards which was nailed +just after it had been smuggled across the Canadian border? I did. But +Allison got hold of a piece of it and had it made up into a dress for +Alice. So that bit up there has a double story. You know one of them. +Remind me to tell you the other sometime." + + + + +XVIII + +THIRTY THOUSAND YARDS OF SILK + + +"I'd sure like to lead the life of one of those fictional detective +heroes," muttered Bill Quinn, formerly of the United States Secret +Service, as he tossed aside the latest volume of crime stories that had +come to his attention. "Nothing to do but trail murderers and find the +person who lifted the diamond necklace and stuff of that kind. They +never have a case that isn't interesting or, for that matter, one in +which they aren't successful. Must be a great life!" + +"But aren't the detective stories of real life interesting and +oftentimes exciting?" I inquired, adding that those which Quinn had +already told me indicated that the career of a government operative was +far from being deadly monotonous. + +"Some of them are," he admitted, "but many of them drag along for months +or even years, sometimes petering out for pure lack of evidence. Those, +of course, are the cases you never hear of--the ones where Uncle Sam's +men fall down on the job. Oh yes, they're fallible, all right. They +can't solve every case--any more than a doctor can save the life of +every patient he attends. But their percentage, though high, doesn't +approach the success of your Sherlock Holmeses and your Thinking +Machines, your Gryces and Sweetwaters and Lecoqs." + +"How is it, then, that every story you've told dealt with the success +of a government agent--never with his failure?" + +Quinn smiled reminiscently for a moment. + +Then, "What do doctors do with their mistakes?" he asked. "They bury +'em. And that's what any real detective will do--try to forget, except +for hoping that some day he'll run up against the man who tricked him. +Again, most of the yarns I've told you revolved around some of the +relics of this room"--waving his hand to indicate the walls of his +library--"and these are all mementoes of successful cases. There's no +use in keeping the other kind. Failures are too common and brains too +scarce. That bit of silk up there--" + +"Oh yes," I interrupted, "the one that formed part of Alice Norcross's +wedding dress." + +"And figured in one of the most sensational plots to defraud the +government that was ever uncovered," added Quinn. "If Ezra Marks hadn't +located that shipment I wouldn't have had that piece of silk and there +wouldn't be any story to tell. So you see, it's really a circle, after +all." + + * * * * * + +Marks [Quinn went on] was one of the few men connected with any branch +of the government organizations who really lived up to the press-agent +notices of the detectives you read about. In the first place, he looked +like he might have stepped out of a book--big and long-legged and lanky. +A typical Yankee, with all of the New-Englander's shrewdness and common +sense. If you turned Ezra loose on a case you could be sure that he +wouldn't sit down and try to work it out by deduction. Neither would he +plunge in and attempt by sheer bravado and gun play to put the thing +over. He'd mix the two methods and, more often than not, come back with +the answer. + +Then, too, Marks had the very happy faculty of drawing assignments that +turned out to be interesting. Maybe it was luck, but more than likely it +was because he followed plans that made 'em so--preferring to wait until +he had all the strings to a case and then stage a big round-up of the +people implicated. You remember the case of the Englishman who smuggled +uncut diamonds in the bowl of his pipe and the one you wrote under the +title of "Wah Lee and the Flower of Heaven"? Well, those were typical of +Ezra's methods--the first was almost entirely analytical, the second +mainly gun play plus a painstaking survey of the field he had to cover. + +But when Marks was notified that it was up to him to find out who was +running big shipments of valuable silks across the Canadian border, +without the formality of visiting the customhouse and making the +customary payments, he found it advisable to combine the two courses. + +It was through a wholesale dealer in silks in Seattle, Washington, that +the Customs Service first learned of the arrival of a considerable +quantity of this valuable merchandise, offered through certain +underground channels at a price which clearly labeled it as smuggled. +Possibly the dealer was peeved because he didn't learn of the shipment +in time to secure any of it. But his reasons for calling the affair to +the attention of the Treasury Department don't really matter. The main +idea was that the silk was there, that it hadn't paid duty, and that +some one ought to find out how it happened. + +When a second and then a third shipment was reported, Marks was notified +by wire to get to Seattle as fast as he could, and there to confer with +the Collector of the Port. + +It wasn't until after he had arrived that Ezra knew what the trouble +was, for the story of the smuggled silk hadn't penetrated as far south +as San Francisco, where he had been engaged in trying to find a cargo of +smuggled coolies. + +"Here's a sample of the silk," announced the Collector of the Port at +Seattle, producing a piece of very heavy material, evidently of foreign +manufacture. "Beyond the fact that we've spotted three of the shipments +and know where to lay our hands on them if wanted, I've got to admit +that we don't know a thing about the case. The department, of course, +doesn't want us to trace the silk from this end. The minute you do that +you lay yourself open to all sorts of legal tangles and delays--to say +nothing of giving the other side plenty of time to frame up a case that +would sound mighty good in court. Besides, I haven't enough men to +handle the job in the short space of time necessary. So you'll have to +dig into it and find out who got the stuff in and how. Then we'll attend +to the fences who've been handling it here." + +"The old game of passing the buck," thought Ezra, as he fingered the +sample of silk meditatively. "I'll do the work and they'll get the +glory. Oh, well--" + +"Any idea of where the shipments came from?" he inquired. + +"There's no doubt but that it's of Japanese manufacture, which, of +course, would appear to point to a shipping conspiracy of some nature. +But I hardly think that's true here. Already eighteen bolts of silk have +been reported in Seattle, and, as you know, that's a pretty good sized +consignment. You couldn't stuff 'em into a pill box or carry 'em inside +a walking stick, like you could diamonds. Whoever's handling this job is +doing it across the border, rather than via the shipping route." + +"No chance of a slip-up in your information, is there, Chief?" Ezra +inquired, anxiously. "I'd hate to start combing the border and then +find that the stuff was being slipped in through the port." + +"No," and the Collector of Customs was positive in his reply. "I'm not +taking a chance on that tip. I know what I'm talking about. My men have +been watching the shipping like hawks. Ever since that consignment of +antique ivory got through last year we've gone over every vessel with a +microscope, probing the mattresses and even pawing around in the coal +bins. I'm positive that there isn't a place big enough to conceal a yard +of silk that the boys haven't looked into--to say nothing of eighteen +bolts. + +"Besides," added the Collector, "the arrival of the silk hasn't +coincided with the arrival of any of the ships from Japan--not by any +stretch of the imagination." + +"All right, I'll take up the trail northward then," replied Marks. +"Don't be surprised if you fail to hear from me for a couple of months +or more. If Washington inquires, tell them that I'm up on the border +somewhere and let it go at that." + +"Going to take anybody with you?" + +"Not a soul, except maybe a guide that I'll pick up when I need him. If +there is a concerted movement to ship silk across the line--and it +appears that there is--the more men you have working with you the less +chance there is for success. Border runners are like moonshiners, +they're not afraid of one man, but if they see a posse they run for +cover and keep out of sight until the storm blows over. And there isn't +one chance in a thousand of finding 'em meanwhile. You've got to play +them, just like you would a fish, so the next time you hear from me you +will know that I've either landed my sharks or that they've slipped off +the hook!" + +It was about a month later that the little town of Northport, up in the +extreme northeastern corner of Washington, awoke to find a stranger in +its midst. Strangers were something of a novelty in Northport, and this +one--a man named Marks, who stated that he was "prospectin' for some +good lumber"--caused quite a bit of talk for a day or two. Then the town +gossips discovered that he was not working in the interest of a large +company, as had been rumored, but solely on his own hook, so they left +him severely alone. Besides, it was the height of the logging season and +there was too much work to be done along the Columbia River to worry +about strangers. + +Marks hadn't taken this into consideration when he neared the eastern +part of the state, but he was just as well pleased. If logs and logging +served to center the attention of the natives elsewhere, so much the +better. It would give him greater opportunity for observation and +possibly the chance to pick up some information. Up to this time his +trip along the border had been singularly uneventful and lacking in +results. In fact, it was practically a toss-up with him whether he would +continue on into Idaho and Montana, on the hope that he would find +something there, or go back to Seattle and start fresh. + +However, he figured that it wouldn't do any harm to spend a week or two +in the neighborhood of the Columbia--and, as events turned out, it was a +very wise move. + +Partly out of curiosity and partly because it was in keeping with his +self-assumed character of lumber prospector, Marks made a point of +joining the gangs of men who worked all day and sometimes long into the +night keeping the river clear of log jams and otherwise assisting in the +movement of timber downstream. Like everyone who views these operations +for the first time, he marveled at the dexterity of the loggers who +perched upon the treacherous slippery trunks with as little thought for +danger as if they had been crossing a country road. But their years of +familiarity with the current and the logs themselves had given them a +sense of balance which appeared to inure them to peril. + +Nor was this ability to ride logs confined wholly to the men. Some of +the girls from the near-by country often worked in with the men, +handling the lighter jobs and attending to details which did not call +for the possession of a great amount of strength. + +One of these, Marks noted, was particularly proficient in her work. +Apparently there wasn't a man in Northport who could give her points in +log riding, and the very fact that she was small and wiry provided her +with a distinct advantage over men who were twice her weight. Apart from +her grace and beauty, there was something extremely appealing about the +girl, and Ezra found himself watching her time after time as she almost +danced across the swirling, bark-covered trunks--hardly seeming to touch +them as she moved. + +The girl was by no means oblivious of the stranger's interest in her +ability to handle at least a part of the men's work. She caught his eye +the very first day he came down to the river, and after that, whenever +she noted that he was present she seemed to take a new delight in +skipping lightly from log to log, lingering on each just long enough to +cause it to spin dangerously and then leaping to the next. + +But one afternoon she tried the trick once too often. Either she +miscalculated her distance or a sudden swirl of the current carried the +log for which she was aiming out of her path, for her foot just touched +it, slipped and, before she could recover her balance, she was in the +water--surrounded by logs that threatened to crush the life out of her +at any moment. + +Startled by her cry for help, three of the lumbermen started toward +her--but the river, like a thing alive, appeared to thwart their efforts +by opening up a rift in the jam on either side, leaving a gap too wide +to be leaped, and a current too strong to be risked by men who were +hampered by their heavy hobnailed shoes. + +Marks, who had been watching the girl, had his coat off almost as soon +as she hit the water. An instant later he had discarded his shoes and +had plunged in, breasting the river with long overhand strokes that +carried him forward at an almost unbelievable speed. Before the men on +the logs knew what was happening, the operative was beside the girl, +using one hand to keep her head above water, and the other to fend off +the logs which were closing in from every side. + +"Quick!" he called. "A rope! A--" but the trunk of a tree, striking his +head a glancing blow, cut short his cry and forced him to devote every +atom of his strength to remaining afloat until assistance arrived. After +an interval which appeared to be measured in hours, rather than seconds, +a rope splashed within reach and the pair were hauled to safety. + +The girl, apparently unhurt by her drenching, shook herself like a wet +spaniel and then turned to where Marks was seated, trying to recover his +breath. + +"Thanks," she said, extending her hand. "I don't know who you are, +stranger, but you're a man!" + +"It wasn't anything to make a fuss about," returned Ezra, rising and +turning suspiciously red around the ears, for it was the first time that +a girl had spoken to him in that way for more years than he cared to +remember. Then, with the Vermont drawl that always came to the surface +when he was excited or embarrassed, he added: "It was worth gettin' wet +to have you speak like that." + +This time it was the girl who flushed, and, with a palpable effort to +cover her confusion, she turned away, stopping to call back over her +shoulder, "If you'll come up to dad's place to-night I'll see that +you're properly thanked." + +"Dad's place?" repeated Ezra to one of the men near by. "Where's that?" + +"She means her stepfather's house up the river," replied the lumberman. +"You can't miss it. Just this side the border. Ask anybody where Old Man +Petersen lives." + +Though the directions were rather vague, Marks started "up the river" +shortly before sunset, and found but little difficulty in locating the +big house--half bungalow and half cabin--where Petersen and his +stepdaughter resided, in company with half a dozen foremen of lumber +gangs, and an Indian woman who had acted as nurse and chaperon and cook +and general servant ever since the death of the girl's mother a number +of years before. + +While he was still stumbling along, trying to pierce the gloom which +settled almost instantly after sunset, Marks was startled to see a white +figure rise suddenly before him and to hear a feminine voice remark, "I +wondered if you'd come." + +"Didn't you know I would?" replied Ezra. "Your spill in the river had me +scared stiff for a moment, but it was a mighty lucky accident for me." + +At the girl's suggestion they seated themselves outside, being joined +before long by Petersen himself, who, with more than a trace of his +Slavic ancestry apparent in his voice, thanked Marks for rescuing his +daughter. It was when the older man left them and the girl's figure was +outlined with startling distinctness by the light from the open door, +that Ezra received a shock which brought him to earth with a crash. + +In the semidarkness he had been merely aware that the girl was wearing a +dress which he would have characterized as "something white." But once +he saw her standing in the center of the path of light which streamed +from the interior of the house there could be no mistake. + +The dress was of white silk! + +More than that, it was made from material which Marks would have sworn +had been cut from the same bolt as the sample which the Collector had +shown him in Seattle! + +"What's the matter, Mr. Marks?" inquired the girl, evidently noting the +surprise which Ezra was unable completely to suppress. "Seen a ghost or +something?" + +"I thought for a moment I had," was the operative's reply, as he played +for time. "It must be your dress. My--my sister had one just like it +once." + +"It is rather pretty, isn't it? In spite of the fact that I made it +myself--out of some silk that dad--that dad brought home." + +Ezra thought it best to change the subject, and as soon as he could find +the opportunity said good night, with a promise to be on hand the next +day to see that the plunge in the river wasn't repeated. + +But the next morning he kept as far away from the girl--Fay Petersen--as +he could, without appearing to make a point of the matter. He had +thought the whole thing over from every angle and his conclusion was +always the same. The Petersens were either hand in glove with the gang +that was running the silk across the border or they were doing the +smuggling themselves. The lonely cabin, the proximity to the border, the +air of restraint which he had noted the previous evening (based +principally upon the fact that he had not been invited indoors), the +silk dress--all were signs which pointed at least to a knowledge of the +plot to beat the customs. + +More than that, when Marks commenced to make some guarded inquiries +about the family of the girl whom he had saved from drowning, he met +with a decidedly cool reception. + +"Old Man Petersen has some big loggin' interests in these parts," +declared the most loquacious of his informants, "an' they say he's made +a pile o' money in the last few months. Some say it's timber an' others +say it's--well, it ain't nobody's concern how a man makes a livin' in +these parts, s'long as he behaves himself." + +"Isn't Petersen behaving himself?" asked Ezra. + +"Stranger," was the reply, "it ain't always healthy to pry into another +man's affairs. Better be satisfied with goin' to see the girl. That's +more than anybody around here's allowed to do." + +"So there was an air of mystery about the Petersen house, after all!" +Marks thought. It hadn't been his imagination or an idea founded solely +upon the sight of the silk dress! + +The next fortnight found the operative a constant and apparently a +welcome visitor at the house up the river. But, hint as he might, he was +never asked indoors--a fact that made him all the more determined to see +what was going on. While he solaced himself with the thought that his +visits were made strictly in the line of duty, that his only purpose was +to discover Petersen's connection with the smuggled silk, Ezra was +unable entirely to stifle another feeling--something which he hadn't +known since the old days in Vermont, when the announcement of a girl's +wedding to another man had caused him to leave home and seek his +fortunes in Boston. + +Fay Petersen was pretty. There was no denying that fact. Also she was +very evidently prepossessed in favor of the man who had saved her from +the river. But this fact, instead of soothing Marks's conscience, only +irritated it the more. Here he was on the verge of making love to a +girl--really in love with her, as he admitted to himself--and at the +same time planning and hoping to send her stepfather to the +penitentiary. He had hoped that the fact that Petersen was not her own +father might make things a little easier for him, but the girl had shown +in a number of ways that she was just as fond of her foster-parent as +she would have been of her own. + +"He's all the daddy I ever knew," she said one night, "and if anything +ever happened to him I think it would drive me crazy," which fell far +short of easing Ezra's mind, though it strengthened his determination to +settle the matter definitely. + +The next evening that he visited the Petersens he left a little earlier +than usual, and only followed the road back to Northport sufficiently +far to make certain that he was not being trailed. Then retracing his +steps, he approached the house from the rear, his soft moccasins moving +silently across the ground, his figure crouched until he appeared little +more than a shadow between the trees. + +Just as he reached the clearing which separated the dwelling from the +woods, he stumbled and almost fell. His foot had caught against +something which felt like the trunk of a fallen tree, but which moved +with an ease entirely foreign to a log of that size. + +Puzzled, Marks waited until a cloud which had concealed the moon had +drifted by, and then commenced his examination. Yes, it was a log--and a +big one, still damp from its immersion in the river. But it was so light +that he could lift it unaided and it rang to a rap from his knuckles. +The end which he first examined was solid, but at the other end the log +was a mere shell, not more than an inch of wood remaining inside the +bark. + +It was not until he discovered a round plug of wood--a stopper, which +fitted precisely into the open end of the log--that the solution of the +whole mystery dawned upon him. The silk had been shipped across the +border from Canada inside the trunks of trees, hollowed out for the +purpose! Wrapping the bolts in oiled silk would keep them perfectly +waterproof and the plan was so simple as to be impervious to detection, +save by accident. + +Emboldened by his discovery, Marks slipped silently across the cleared +space to the shadow of the house, and thence around to the side, where a +few cautious cuts of his bowie knife opened a peep hole in the shutter +which covered the window. Through this he saw what he had hoped for, yet +feared to find--Petersen and three of his men packing bolts of white +silk in boxes for reshipment. What was more, he caught snatches of their +conversation which told him that another consignment of the smuggled +goods was due from Trail, just across the border, within the week. + +Retreating as noiselessly as he had come, Marks made his way back to +Northport, where he wrote two letters--or, rather, a letter and a note. +The first, addressed to the sheriff, directed that personage to collect +a posse and report to Ezra Marks, of the Customs Service, on the second +day following. This was forwarded by special messenger, but Marks +pocketed the note and slipped it cautiously under the door of the +Petersen house the next evening. + +"It's a fifty-fifty split," he consoled his conscience. "The government +gets the silk and the Petersens get their warning. I don't suppose I'll +get anything but the devil for not landing them!" + +The next morning when the sheriff and his posse arrived they found, only +an empty house, but in the main room were piled boxes containing no less +than thirty thousand yards of white silk--valued at something over one +hundred thousand dollars. On top of the boxes was an envelope addressed +to Ezra Marks, Esq., and within it a note which read, "I don't know who +you are, Mr. Customs Officer, but you're a man!" + +There was no signature, but the writing was distinctly feminine. + + * * * * * + +"And was that all Marks ever heard from her?" I asked, when Quinn +paused. + +"So far as I know," said the former operative. "Of course, Washington +never heard about that part of the case. They were too well satisfied +with Ezra's haul and the incoming cargo, which they also landed, to care +much about the Petersens. So the whole thing was entered on Marks's +record precisely as he had figured it--a fifty-fifty split. You see, +even government agents aren't always completely successful--especially +when they're fighting Cupid as well as crooks!" + + + + +XIX + +THE CLUE IN THE CLASSIFIED COLUMN + + +Quinn tossed his evening paper aside with a gesture in which disgust was +mingled in equal proportion with annoyance. + +"Why is it," he inquired, testily, "that some fools never learn +anything?" + +"Possibly that's because they're fools," I suggested. "What's the +trouble now?" + +"Look at that!" And the former Secret Service operative recovered the +paper long enough to indicate a short news item near the bottom of the +first page--an item which bore the headline, "New Fifty-Dollar +Counterfeit Discovered." + +"Yes," I agreed, "there always are people foolish enough to change bills +without examining them any too closely. But possibly this one is very +cleverly faked." + +"Fools not to examine them!" echoed Quinn. "That isn't the direction in +which the idiocy lies. The fools are the people who think they can +counterfeit Uncle Sam's currency and get away with it. Barnum must have +been right. There's a sucker born every minute--and those that don't try +to beat the ponies or buck the stock market turn to counterfeiting for a +living. They get it, too, in Leavenworth or Atlanta or some other place +that maintains a federal penitentiary. + +"They never seem to learn anything by others' experience, either. You'd +think, after the Thurene case, it would be perfectly apparent that no +one could beat the counterfeiting game for long." + +"The Thurene case? I don't seem to remember that. The name is unusual, +but--" + +"Yes, and that wasn't the only part of the affair that was out of the +ordinary," Quinn cut in. "Spencer Graham also contributed some work that +was well off the beaten path--not forgetting the assistance rendered by +a certain young woman." + + * * * * * + +Probably the most remarkable portion of the case [continued Quinn] was +the fact that Graham didn't get in on it until Thurene had been +arrested. Nevertheless, if it hadn't been for his work in breaking +through an ironclad alibi the government might have been left high and +dry, with a trunkful of suspicions and mighty little else. + +Somewhere around the latter part of August the New York branch of the +Secret Service informed Washington that a remarkably clever counterfeit +fifty-dollar bill had turned up in Albany--a bill in which the engraving +was practically perfect and the only thing missing from the paper was +the silk fiber. This, however, was replaced by tiny red and blue lines, +drawn in indelible ink. The finished product was so exceptionally good +that, if it had not been for the lynxlike eyes of a paying teller--plus +the highly developed sense of touch which bank officials accumulate--the +note would have been changed without a moment's hesitation. + +The man who presented it, who happened to be well known to the bank +officials, was informed that the bill was counterfeit and the matter was +reported through the usual channels. A few days later another bill, +evidently from the same batch, was picked up in Syracuse, and from that +time on it rained counterfeits so hard that every teller in the state +threw a fit whenever a fifty-dollar bill came in, either for deposit or +for change. + +Hardly had the flow of upstate counterfeits lessened than the bills +began to make their appearance in and around New York, sometimes in +banks, but more often in the resorts patronized by bookmakers from +Jamaica and the other near-by race tracks. + +The significance of this fact didn't strike the Secret Service men +assigned to the case until the horses had moved southward. The instant +one of the bills was reported in Baltimore two operatives were ordered +to haunt the _pari-mutuel_ booths at Pimlico, with instructions to pay +particular attention to the windows where the larger wagers were laid. +An expert in counterfeits also took up his position inside the cage, to +signal the men outside as soon as a phony bill was presented. + +It was during the rush of the betting after the two-year-olds had gone +to the post for the first race that the signal came--indicating that a +man about forty-five years of age, well dressed and well groomed, had +exchanged two of the counterfeits for a one hundred-dollar ticket on the +favorite. + +Hollister and Sheehan, the Secret Service men, took no chances with +their prey. Neither did they run the risk of arresting him prematurely. +Figuring that it was well within the realms of possibility that he had +received the bills in exchange for other money, and that he was +therefore ignorant of the fact that they were spurious, they contented +themselves with keeping close to him during the race and the interval +which followed. + +When the favorite won, the man they were watching cashed his bet and +stowed his winnings away in a trousers pocket. Then, after a prolonged +examination of the jockeys, the past performances and the weights of +the various horses, he made his way back to the window to place another +bet. + +Again the signal--and this time Hollister and Sheehan closed in on their +man, notifying him that he was under arrest and advising him to come +along without creating any disturbance. + +"Arrest for what?" he demanded. + +"Passing counterfeit money," replied Hollister, flashing his badge. +Then, as the man started to protest, Sheehan counseled him to reserve +his arguments until later, and the trio made their way out of the +inclosure in silence. + +When searched, in Baltimore, two sums of money were found upon the +suspect--one roll in his left-hand trousers pocket being made up of +genuine currency, including that which he had received for picking the +winner of the first race, and the one in the right-hand pocket being +entirely of counterfeit fifty-dollar bills--forty-eight in number. + +When questioned, the prisoner claimed that his name was Robert J. +Thurene of New Haven, and added that there were plenty of people in the +Connecticut city who would vouch for his respectability. + +"Then why," inquired the chief of the Secret Service, who had come over +from Washington to take charge of the case, "do you happen to have two +thousand four hundred dollars in counterfeit money on you?" + +At that moment Thurene dropped his bomb--or, rather, one of the many +which rendered the case far from monotonous. + +"If you'll search my room at the Belvedere," he suggested, "you'll find +some five thousand dollars more." + +"What?" demanded the chief. "Do you admit that you deliberately brought +seven thousand five hundred dollars of counterfeit money here and tried +to pass it?" + +"I admit nothing," corrected the arrested man. "You stated that the +fifty-dollar bills which you found upon me when I was searched against +my will were false. I'll take your word for that. But if they are +counterfeit, I'm merely telling you that there are a hundred more like +them in my room at the hotel." + +"Of course you're willing to state where they came from?" suggested the +chief, who was beginning to sense the fact that something underlay +Thurene's apparent sincerity. + +"Certainly. I found them." + +"Old stuff," sneered one of the operatives standing near by. "Not only +an old alibi, but one which you'll have a pretty hard time proving." + +"Do you happen to have a copy of yesterday's _News_ handy?" Thurene +asked. + +When the paper was produced he turned rapidly to the Lost and Found +column and pointed to an advertisement which appeared there: + + FOUND--An envelope containing a sum of money. Owner may + recover same by notifying Robert J. Thurene, Belvedere Hotel, + and proving property. + +"There," he continued, after reading the advertisement aloud, "that is +the notice which I inserted after finding the money which you say is +counterfeit." + +"Where did you find it?" + +"In the Pennsylvania station, night before last. I had just come in from +New York, and chanced to see the envelope lying under one of the rows of +seats in the center of the waiting room. It attracted my attention, but +when I examined it I was amazed to find that it contained one hundred +and fifty fifty-dollar bills, all apparently brand new. Naturally, I +didn't care to part with the money unless I was certain that I was +giving it up to the rightful owner, so I carried it with me to the hotel +and advertised the loss at once. + +"The next afternoon I went out to the track and found, when it was too +late, that the only money I had with me was that contained in the +envelope. I used a couple of the bills, won, and, being superstitious, +decided to continue betting with that money. That's the reason I used it +this afternoon. Come to think of it, you won't find the original five +thousand dollars in my room. Part of it is the money which I received at +the track and which I replaced in order to make up the sum I found. But +most of the bills are there." + +"You said," remarked the chief, striking another tack, "that your name +is Thurene and that you live in New Haven. What business are you in?" + +"Stationery. You'll find that my rating in Bradstreet's is excellent, +even though my capital may not be large. What's more"--and here the +man's voice became almost aggressive--"any bank in New Haven and any +member of the Chamber of Commerce will vouch for me. I've a record of +ten years there and some ten in Lowell, Mass., which will bear the +closest possible inspection." + +And he was right, at that. + +In the first place, a search of his room at the hotel brought to light a +large official envelope containing just the sum of money he had +mentioned, counterfeit bills and real ones. Secondly, a wire to New +Haven elicited the information that "Robert J. Thurene, answering to +description in inquiry received, has operated a successful stationery +store here for the past ten years. Financial standing excellent. Wide +circle of friends, all of whom vouch for his character and integrity." + +When this wire was forwarded to Washington, the chief having returned +to headquarters, Spencer Graham received a hurry-up call to report in +the main office. There he was informed that he was to take charge of the +Thurene case and see what he could find out. + +"I don't have to tell you," added the chief, "that it's rather a +delicate matter. Either the man is the victim of circumstances--in which +case we'll have to release him with profound apologies and begin all +over again--or he's a mighty clever crook. We can't afford to take any +chances. The case as it finally stands will have to be presented in +court, and, therefore, must be proof against the acid test of shrewd +lawyers for the defense, lawyers who will rely upon the newspaper +advertisement and Thurene's spotless record as indications of his +innocence." + +"That being the case, Chief, why take any chances right now? The case +hasn't gotten into the papers, so why not release Thurene?" + +"And keep him under constant surveillance? That wouldn't be a bad idea. +The moment he started to leave the country we could nab him, and +meanwhile we would have plenty of time to look into the matter. Of +course, there's always the danger of suicide--but that's proof of guilt, +and it would save the Service a lot of work in the long run. Good idea! +We'll do it." + +So it was that Robert J. Thurene of New Haven was released from custody +with the apologies of the Secret Service--who retained the counterfeit +money, but returned the real bills--while Spencer Graham went to work on +the Baltimore end of the case, four operatives took up the job of +trailing the stationer, and Rita Clarke found that she had important +business to transact in Connecticut. + +Anyone who didn't know Rita would never have suspected that, back of +her brown eyes lay a fund of information upon a score of +subjects--including stenography, the best methods of filing, cost +accounting, and many other points which rendered her invaluable around +an office. Even if they found this out, there was something else which +she kept strictly to herself--the fact that she was engaged to a +certain operative in the United States Secret Service, sometimes known +as Number Thirty-three, and sometimes as Spencer Graham. + +In reply to Spencer's often-repeated requests that she set a day for +their wedding, Miss Clarke would answer: "And lose the chance to figure +in any more cases? Not so that you could notice it! As long as I'm +single you find that you can use me every now and then, but if I were +married I'd have too many domestic cares. No, Spencer, let's wait until +we get one more BIG case, and then--well, we'll say one month from the +day it's finished." + +Which was the reason that Graham and his fiancee had a double reason for +wanting to bring Thurene to earth. + +The first place that Graham went to in Baltimore was the Pennsylvania +station, where he made a number of extended inquiries of certain +employees there. After that he went to the newspaper office, where he +conferred with the clerk whose business it was to receive the lost and +found advertisements, finally securing a copy of the original notice in +Thurene's handwriting. Also some other information which he jotted down +in a notebook reserved for that purpose. + +Several days spent in Baltimore failed to turn up any additional leads +and Graham returned to Washington with a request for a list of the +various places where counterfeit fifty-dollar bills had been reported +during the past month. The record sounded like the megaphonic call of a +train leaving Grand Central Station--New York, Yonkers, Poughkeepsie, +Syracuse, Troy, and points north, with a few other cities thrown in for +good measure. So Spencer informed the chief that he would make his +headquarters in New York for the next ten days or so, wired Rita to the +same effect, and left Washington on the midnight train. + +In New York he discovered only what he had already known, plus one other +very significant bit of evidence--something which would have warranted +him in placing Thurene again under arrest had he not been waiting for +word from Rita. He knew that it would take her at least a month to work +up her end of the case, so Graham put in the intervening time in weaving +his net a little stronger, for he had determined that the next time the +New Haven stationer was taken into custody would be the last--that the +government would have a case which all the lawyers on earth couldn't +break. + +Early in December he received a wire from Rita--a telegram which +contained the single word, "Come"--but that was enough. He was in New +Haven that night, and, in a quiet corner of the Taft grille the girl +gave him an account of what she had found. + +"Getting into Thurene's store was the easiest part of the whole job," +she admitted. "It took me less than a day to spot one of the girls who +wanted to get married, bribe her to leave, and then arrive bright and +early the following morning, in response to the 'stenographer wanted' +advertisement." + +"Thurene's had a lot of practice writing ads lately," remarked Graham, +with a smile. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing. Tell you later. What'd you find in the store?" + +"Not a thing--until day before yesterday. I thought it best to move +slowly and let matters take their own course as far as possible. So I +contented myself with doing the work which had been handled by the girl +whose place I took--dictation, typing, and the rest. Then I found that +the correspondence files were in shocking shape. I grabbed the +opportunity to do a little night work by offering to bring them up to +date. + +"'Certainly,' said the boss, and then took good care to be on hand when +I arrived after dinner that night. The very way he hung around and +watched every movement I made convinced me that the stuff was somewhere +on the premises. But where? That's what I couldn't figure out. + +"Having demonstrated my ability by three hours of stiff work on the +files, I suggested a few days later that I had a first-hand knowledge of +cost accounting and that I would be glad to help get his books in shape +for the holiday business, the old man who usually attends to this being +sick. Again Thurene assented and again he blew in, 'to explain any +entries which might prove troublesome.' I'll say this for him, +though--there isn't a single incriminating entry on the books. Every +purchase is accounted for, down to the last paper of pins. + +"Then, when I felt that I had wormed myself sufficiently well into his +good graces, I hinted that I might be able to help out by supervising +the system in the engraving department--checking up the purchases, +watching the disbursements, keeping an eye on the stock and so on. +Rather to my surprise, he didn't offer any objection. Said that my work +had been of so much help elsewhere that he would be glad to have me +watch the engravers' work. + +"It was there that I got my first real lead--at least I hope it's a +lead. Back of the engraving department is a small room, locked and +padlocked, where the boss is supposed to ride his personal hobby of +amateur photography. I asked one of the men the reason for guarding a +dark room so carefully, and he replied that Thurene claimed to be on the +verge of making a great discovery in color photography, but that the +process took a long time and he didn't want to run the risk of having it +disturbed. I'm to have a look at his color process to-night." + +"What?" cried Graham. "He's going to show you what is in the +double-locked room?" + +"That's what he's promised to do. I haven't the least hope of seeing +anything incriminating--all the evidence will probably be well +hidden--but this morning I expressed a casual interest in photography +and remarked that I understood he was working on a new color process. I +did it mainly to see how he would react. But he never batted an eyelid. +'I've been making some interesting experiments recently,' he said, 'and +they ought to reach a climax to-night. If you'd care to see how they +turn out, suppose you meet me here at nine o'clock and we'll examine +them together.'" + +"But Rita," Graham protested, "you don't mean to say that you're going +to put yourself entirely in this man's power?" + +The girl's first answer was a laugh, and then, "What do you mean, 'put +myself in his power'?" she mocked. "You talk like the hero of a +melodrama. This isn't the first time that I've been alone in the store +with him after dark. Besides, he doesn't suspect a thing and it's too +good a chance to miss. Meet me here the first thing in the +morning--around eight-thirty--and I'll give you the details of Thurene's +secret chamber, provided it contains anything interesting." + +"Rita, I can't--" Graham started to argue, but the girl cut in with, +"You can't stop me? No, you can't. What's more, I'll have to hurry. It's +ten minutes to nine now. See you in the morning." + +The next thing Graham knew she had slipped away from the table and was +on her way out of the grille. + +When Rita reached the Thurene establishment, promptly at nine, she found +the proprietor waiting for her. + +"On time, as usual," he laughed. "Now you'd better keep your hat and +coat on. There's no heat in the dark room and I don't want you to catch +cold. The plates ought to be ready by this time. We'll go right down and +take a look at them." + +Guided by the light from the lantern which the stationer held high in +the air, the girl started down the steps leading to the basement where +the engraving department was located. She heard Thurene close the door +behind him, but failed to hear him slip the bolt which, as they +afterward found, had been well oiled. + +In fact, it was not until they had reached the center of the large room, +in one corner of which was the door to the private photographic +laboratory, that she knew anything was wrong. Then it was too late. + +Before she could move, Thurene leaned forward and seized her--one arm +about her waist, the other over her mouth. Struggle as she might, Rita +was unable to move. Slowly, relentlessly, Thurene turned her around +until she faced him, and then, with a sudden movement of the arm that +encircled her waist, secured a wad of cotton waste, which he had +evidently prepared for just such an emergency. When he had crammed this +in the girl's mouth and tied her hands securely, he moved forward to +open the door to the dark room. + +"Thought I was easy, didn't you?" he sneered. "Didn't think I'd see +through your scheme to get a position here and your infernal cleverness +with the books and the accounts? Want to see something of my color +process, eh? Well, you'll have an opportunity to study it at your +leisure, for it'll be twelve good hours before anyone comes down here, +and by that time I'll be where the rest of your crowd can't touch me." + +"Come along! In with you!" + +At that moment there was a crash of glass from somewhere near the +ceiling and something leaped into the room--something that took only two +strides to reach Thurene and back him up against the wall, with the +muzzle of a very businesslike automatic pressed into the pit of his +stomach. + +The whole thing happened so quickly that by the time Rita recovered her +balance and turned around she only saw the stationer with his hands well +above his head and Spencer Graham--her Spencer--holding him up at the +point of a gun. + +"Take this," snapped the operative, producing a penknife, "and cut that +girl's hands loose! No false moves now--or I'm likely to get nervous!" + +A moment later Rita was free and Thurene had resumed his position +against the wall. + +"Frisk him!" ordered Graham, and then, when the girl had produced a +miscellaneous collection of money, keys and jewelry from the man's +pockets, Spencer allowed him to drop his arms long enough to snap a pair +of handcuffs in place. + +"This time," announced the Secret Service man, "you won't be released +merely because of a fake ad. and the testimony of your friends. Pretty +clever scheme, that. Inserting a 'found advertisement' to cover your +possession of counterfeit money in case you were caught. But you +overlooked a couple of points. The station in Baltimore was thoroughly +swept just five minutes before your train arrived from New York and +every man on duty there is ready to swear that he wouldn't have +overlooked anything as large as the envelope containing that phony +money. Then, too, the clerk in the _News_ office received your +advertisement shortly after noon the next day--so you didn't advertise +it 'at once,' as you said you did. + +"But your biggest mistake was in playing the game too often. +Here"--producing a page from the classified section of a New York +newspaper--"is the duplicate of your Baltimore ad., inserted to cover +your tracks in case they caught you at Jamaica. I've got the original, +in your handwriting, in my pocket." + +"But how'd you happen to arrive here at the right moment?" exclaimed +Rita. + +"I wasn't any too well convinced that you'd fooled our friend here," +Graham replied. "So I trailed you, and, attracted by the light from +Thurene's lantern, managed to break in that window at the time you +needed me." + +"There's only one thing that puzzles me," the operative continued, +turning to Thurene. "What made you take up counterfeiting? Your business +record was clear enough before that, and, of course, being an engraver, +it wasn't hard for you to find the opportunity. What was the motive?" + +For a full sixty seconds the man was silent and then, from between his +clenched teeth, came two words, "Wall Street." + +"I might have guessed that," replied Graham. "I'll see you safely in +jail first and then have a look through your room. Want to come along, +Rita?" + +"No, thanks, Spencer. I've had enough for one evening. Let's see. This +is the sixth of December. Suppose we plan a certain event for the sixth +of January?" + + * * * * * + +"And so they were married and lived happily ever after?" I added, as +Quinn paused. + +"And so they were married," he amended. "I can't say as to the rest of +it--though I'm inclined to believe that they were happy. Anyhow, Rita +knew when she had enough--and that's all you can really ask for in a +wife." + + + + +XX + +IN THE SHADOW OF THE CAPITOL + + +"It won't be long until they're all back--with their pretty clothes and +their jeweled bags and their air of innocent sophistication--but until +at least a dozen of them gather here Washington won't be itself again." + +Bill Quinn and I had been discussing the change which had come over +Washington since peace had disrupted the activities of the various war +organizations, and then, after a pause, the former member of the Secret +Service had referred to "them" and to "their pretty clothes." + +"Who do you mean?" I inquired. "With the possible exception of some +prominent politicians I don't know anyone whose presence is essential to +make Washington 'itself again.' And certainly nobody ever accused +politicians, with the possible exception of J. Ham Lewis, of wearing +pretty clothes. Even he didn't carry a jeweled bag." + +"I wasn't thinking of Congressmen or Senators or even members of the +Cabinet," replied Quinn with a smile. "Like the poor, they are always +with us, and also like the poor, there are times when we would willingly +dispense with them. But the others--they make life worth living, +particularly for members of the Secret Service, who are apt to be a bit +bored with the monotony of chasing counterfeiters and guarding the +President. + +"The ones I refer to are the beautifully gowned women whose too perfect +English often betrays their foreign origin almost as certainly as would +a dialect. They are sent here by various governments abroad to find out +things which we would like to keep secret and their presence helps to +keep Washington cosmopolitan and--interesting. + +"During the war--well, if you recall the case of Jimmy Callahan and the +electric sign at Norfolk--the affair which I believe you wrote under the +title of 'A Flash in the Night'--you know what happened to those who +were caught plotting against the government. In times of peace, however, +things are different." + +"Why? Isn't a spy always a spy?" + +"So far as their work is concerned they are. But by a sort of +international agreement, tacit but understood, those who seek to pry +into the affairs of other governments during the years of peace are not +treated with the same severity as when a nation is fighting for its +life." + +"But surely we have no secrets that a foreign government would want!" I +protested. "That's one of the earmarks of a republic. Everything is +aired in the open, even dirty linen." + +Quinn didn't answer for a moment, and when he did reply there was a +reminiscent little smile playing around the corners of his mouth. + +"Do you remember the disappearance of the plans of the battleship +_Pennsylvania_?" he asked. + +"Yes, I think I do. But as I recall it the matter was never cleared up." + +"Officially, it wasn't. Unofficially, it was. At least there are several +persons connected with the United States Secret Service who are positive +that Sylvia Sterne lifted the blue prints and afterward--well, we might +as well begin the story at the first chapter." + + * * * * * + +The name she was known by on this side of the Atlantic [continued the +former government agent] was not that of Sterne, though subsequent +investigations proved that that was what she was called in Paris and +Vienna and Rome and London. When she arrived in Washington her visiting +cards bore the name of the Countess Stefani, and as there are half a +dozen counts of that name to be found in the peerages of as many +principalities, no one inquired too deeply into her antecedents. + +Yes, she admitted that there was a count somewhere in the background, +but she led those who were interested to the conclusion he had never +understood her peculiar temperament and that therefore she was +sojourning in Washington, seeking pleasure and nothing more. A slow, +soulful glance from her violet eyes usually accompanied the +statement--and caused the man to whom the statement was made (it was +always a man) to wonder how anyone could fail to appreciate so charming +a creature. + +"Charming" is really a very good word to apply to the Countess Sylvia. +Her manner was charming and her work was likewise. Charming secrets and +invitations and news out of those with whom she came in contact. + +Her first public appearance, so far as the Secret Service was concerned, +was at one of the receptions at the British embassy. She was there on +invitation, of course, but it was an invitation secured in her own +original way. + +Immediately upon arriving in Washington she had secured an apartment at +Brickley Court, an apartment which chanced to be directly across the +hall from the one occupied by a Mrs. Sheldon, a young widow with a +rather large acquaintance in the diplomatic set. + +Some ten days after the Countess Sylvia took up her residence on +Connecticut Avenue she visited one of the department stores and made +several purchases, ordering them sent C. O. D. to her apartment. Only, +instead of giving the number as four thirty-six, her tongue apparently +slipped and she said four thirty-seven, which was Mrs. Sheldon's number. +Of course, if the parcels had been paid for or charged they would have +been left at the desk in the lobby, but, being collect, the boy brought +them to the door of four thirty-seven. + +As was only natural, Mrs. Sheldon was about to order them returned when +the door across the hall opened and the countess, attired in one of her +most fetching house gowns, appeared and explained the mistake. + +"How stupid of me!" she exclaimed. "I must have given the girl the wrong +apartment number. I'm awfully sorry for troubling you, Mrs. Sheldon." + +The widow, being young, could not restrain the look of surprise when her +name was mentioned by a woman who was an utter stranger, but the +countess cut right in with: + +"You probably don't remember me, but we met two years ago on Derby Day +in London. The count and I had the pleasure of meeting you through Lord +Cartwright, but it was just before the big race, and when I looked +around again you had been swallowed up in the crowd." + +Mrs. Sheldon had been at the Derby two years before, as the countess +doubtless knew before she arrived in Washington, and also she remembered +having met a number of persons during that eventful afternoon. So the +rest was easy for Sylvia, particularly as the first half hour of their +conversation uncovered the fact that they had many mutual friends, all +of whom, however, were in Europe. + +Through Mrs. Sheldon the countess met a number of the younger and lesser +lights of the Diplomatic Corps and the invitation to the reception at +the British Embassy was hers for the suggestion. + +Before the evening was over several men were asking themselves where +they had met that "very charming countess" before. Some thought it must +have been in Paris, others were certain that it was in Vienna, and still +others maintained that her face brought back memories of their detail in +Saint Petersburg (the name of the Russian capital had not then been +altered). Sylvia didn't enlighten any of them. Neither did she volunteer +details, save of the vaguest nature, contenting herself with knowing +glances which hinted much and bits of frothy gossip which conveyed +nothing. The beauty of her face and the delicate curves of her figure +did the rest. Before the evening was over she had met at least the +younger members of all the principal embassies and legations, not to +mention three men whose names appeared upon the roster of the Senate +Committee on Foreign Relations. + +To one of these, Senator Lattimer, she paid particular attention, +assuring him that she would be honored if he would "drop in some +afternoon for tea," an invitation which the gentleman from Iowa accepted +with alacrity a few days later. + +As was afterward apparent, the countess had arranged her schedule with +considerable care. She had arrived in Washington early in the fall, and +by the time the season was well under way she had the entree to the +majority of the semiprivate functions--teas and receptions and dances to +which a number of guests were invited. Here, of course, she had an +opportunity to pick up a few morsels of information--crumbs which fell +from the tables of diplomacy--but that wasn't what she was after. She +wanted a copy of a certain confidential report referring to American +relations abroad, and, what's more, she'd have gotten it if she hadn't +overstepped herself. + +Through what might have been termed in vulgar circles "pumping" Senator +Lattimer, though the countess's casual inquiries from time to time +evinced only a natural interest in the affairs of the world, Sylvia +found out that the report would be completed early in March and that a +copy would be in the Senator's office for at least two days--or, what +interested her more, two nights. + +She didn't intimate that she would like to see it. That would have been +too crude. In fact, she deftly turned the subject and made the Senator +believe that she was interested only in his views with respect to the +stabilization of currency or some such topic far removed from the point +they had mentioned. + +Just before he left, however, Senator Lattimer mentioned that there was +going to be a big display of fireworks around the Washington Monument +the following evening, and inquired if the countess would be interested +in witnessing the celebration. + +"Surely," said she. "Why not let's watch them from the roof here? We +ought to able to get an excellent view." + +"I've got a better idea than that," was the senatorial reply. "We'll go +down to the State, War, and Navy Building. The windows on the south side +ought to be ideal for that purpose and there won't be any trouble about +getting in. I'll see to that," he added, with just a touch of pomposity. + +So it happened that among the dozen or more persons who occupied choice +seats in a room in the Navy Department that next night were the Hon. +Arthur H. Lattimer and the Countess Stefani. + +The next morning it was discovered that plans relating to certain recent +naval improvements--radical changes which were to be incorporated in +the battleship _Pennsylvania_--were missing. + +The chief learned of the loss about nine-thirty, and by ten o'clock +every available man was turned loose on the case, with instructions to +pry into the past records and watch the future actions of the people who +had been in the room on the previous evening. + +Because he particularly requested it, Owen Williams, whose connection +with the Secret Service was not a matter of general information, was +detailed to learn what he could of the Countess Stefani. + +"I've run into her a couple of times recently," he told the chief, "and +there's something not altogether on the level about the lady. I don't +suppose we have time to cable abroad and trace the particular branch of +the family to which she claims to belong, but I have a hunch that she is +not working altogether in the interest of Europe. A certain +yellow-skinned person whom we both know has been seen coming out of +Brickley Court on several occasions within the past month, and--well, +the countess is worth watching." + +"Trail her, then!" snapped the chief. "The department has asked for +quick action in this case, for there are reasons which render it +inadvisable for those plans to get out of the country." + +"Right!" replied Williams, settling his hat at a rather jaunty angle and +picking up his gloves and stick. "I'll keep in close touch with you and +report developments. If you want me within the next couple of hours I'll +probably be somewhere around Brickley Court. The countess never rises +until round noon." + +But that morning, as Williams soon discovered, something appeared to +have interfered with the routine of the fair Sylvia. She had called the +office about nine o'clock, made an inquiry about the New York trains, +ordered a chair reserved on the eleven and a taxi for ten forty-five. +All of which gave Owen just enough time to phone the chief, tell him of +the sudden change in his plans, and suggest that the countess's room be +searched during her absence. + +"Tell New York to have some one pick up Stefani as soon as she arrives," +Williams concluded. "I'm going to renew my acquaintance with her en +route, find out where she's staying, and frame an excuse for being at +the same hotel. But I may not be able to accompany her there, so have +some one trail her from the station. I'll make any necessary reports +through the New York office." + +Just after the train pulled out of Baltimore the Countess Stefani saw a +young and distinctly handsome man, whose face was vaguely familiar, rise +from his seat at the far end of the car and come toward her. Then, as he +reached her chair he halted, surprised. + +"This is luck!" he exclaimed. "I never hoped to find you on the train, +Countess! Going through to New York, of course?" + +As he spoke the man's name came back to her, together with the fact that +he had been pointed out as one of the eligible young bachelors who +apparently did but little and yet had plenty of money to do it with. + +"Oh, Mr. Williams! You gave me a bit of a start at first. Your face was +in the shadow and I didn't recognize you. Yes, I'm just running up for a +little shopping. Won't be gone for more than a day or two, for I must be +back in time for the de Maury dance on Thursday evening. You are going, +I suppose?" + +Thankful for the opening, Williams occupied the vacant chair next to +hers, and before they reached Havre de Grace they were deep in a +discussion of people and affairs in Washington. It was not Williams's +intention, however, to allow the matter to stop there. Delicately, but +certainly, he led the conversation into deeper channels, exerting every +ounce of his personality to convince the countess that this was a moment +for which he had longed, an opportunity to chat uninterruptedly with +"the most charming woman in Washington." + +"This is certainly the shortest five hours I've ever spent," he assured +his companion as the porter announced their arrival at Manhattan +Transfer. "Can't I see something more of you while we are in New York? +I'm not certain when I'll get back to Washington and this glimpse has +been far too short. Are you going to stop with friends?" + +"No--at the Vanderbilt. Suppose you call up to-morrow morning and I'll +see what I can do." + +"Why not a theater party this evening?" + +"I'm sorry, but I have an engagement." + +"Right--to-morrow morning, then," and the operative said good-by with a +clear conscience, having noted that one of the men from the New York +office was already on the job. + +Later in the evening he was informed that the countess had gone directly +to her hotel, had dressed for dinner, and then, after waiting in the +lobby for nearly an hour, had eaten a solitary meal and had gone back to +her room, leaving word at the desk that she was to be notified +immediately if anyone called. But no one had. + +The next morning, instead of phoning, Williams dropped around to the +Vanderbilt and had a short session with the house detective, who had +already been notified that the Countess Stefani was being watched by +Secret Service operatives. The house man, however, verified the report +of the operative who had picked up the countess at the station--she had +received no callers and had seen no one save the maid. + +"Any phone messages?" + +"Not one." + +"Any mail?" + +"Just a newspaper, evidently one that a friend had mailed from +Washington. The address was in a feminine hand and--" + +"Tell the maid that I want the wrapper of that paper if it's in the +countess's room," interrupted Williams. "I don't want the place searched +for it, but if it happens to be in the wastebasket be sure I get it." + +A moment later he was calling the Countess Stefani, presumably from the +office of a friend of his in Wall Street. + +"I'm afraid I can't see you to-day," and Sylvia's voice appeared to +register infinite regret. "I wasn't able to complete a little business +deal I had on last night--succumbed to temptation and went to the +theater, so I'll have to pay for it to-day." (Here Williams suppressed a +chuckle, both at the manner in which the lady handled the truth and at +the fact that she was palpably ignorant that she had been shadowed.) +"I'm returning to Washington on the Congressional, but I'll be sure to +see you at the de Maurys', won't I? Please come down--for my sake!" + +"I'll do it," was Owen's reply, "and I can assure you that my return to +Washington will be entirely because I feel that I must see you again. Au +revoir, until Thursday night." + +"On the Congressional Limited, eh?" he muttered as he stepped out of the +booth. "Maybe it's a stall, but I'll make the train just the same. +Evidently one of the lady's plans has gone amiss." + +"Here's the wrapper you wanted," said the house detective, producing a +large torn envelope, slit lengthwise and still showing by its rounded +contour that it had been used to inclose a rolled newspaper. + +"Thanks," replied Williams, as he glanced at the address. "I thought +so." + +"Thought what?" + +"Come over here a minute," and he steered the detective to the desk, +where he asked to be shown the register for the preceding day. Then, +pointing to the name "Countess Sylvia Stefani" on the hotel sheet and to +the same name on the wrapper, he asked, "Note everything?" + +"The handwriting is the same!" + +"Precisely. The countess mailed this paper herself at this hotel before +she left Washington. And, if I'm not very much mistaken, she'll mail +another one to herself in Washington, before she leaves New York." + +"You want it intercepted?" + +"I do not! If Sylvia is willing to trust the Post-office Department with +her secret, I certainly am. But I intend to be on hand when that paper +arrives." + +Sure enough, just before leaving for the station that afternoon, +Williams found out from his ally at the Vanderbilt that the countess had +slipped a folded and addressed newspaper into the mail box in the lobby. +She had then paid her bill and entered a taxi, giving the chauffeur +instructions to drive slowly through Central Park. Sibert, the operative +who was trailing her, reported that several times she appeared to be on +the point of stopping, but had ordered the taxi driver to go +on--evidently being suspicious that she was followed and not wishing to +take any chances. + +Of this, though, Williams knew nothing--for a glance into one of the +cars on the Congressional Limited had been sufficient to assure him that +his prey was aboard. He spent the rest of the trip in the smoker, so +that he might not run into her. + +In Washington, however, a surprise awaited him. + +Instead of returning at once to Brickley Court, the countess checked her +bag at the station and hired a car by the hour, instructing the driver +to take her to the Chevy Chase Club. Williams, of course, followed in +another car, but had the ill fortune to lose the first taxi in the crush +of machines which is always to be noted on dance nights at the club, and +it was well on toward morning before he could locate the chauffeur he +wanted to reach. + +According to that individual, the lady had not gone into the club, at +all, but, changing her mind, had driven on out into the country, +returning to Washington at midnight. + +"Did she meet anyone?" demanded Williams. + +"Not a soul, sir. Said she just wanted to drive through the country and +that she had to be at the Senate Office Building at twelve o'clock." + +"The Senate Office Building?" echoed the operative. "At midnight? Did +you drop her there?" + +"I did, sir. She told me to wait and she was out again in five minutes, +using the little door in the basement--the one that's seldom locked. I +thought she was the wife of one of the Senators. Then I drove her to +Union Station to get her bag, and then to Brickley Court, where she paid +me and got out." + +The moment the chauffeur had mentioned the Senate Office Building a +mental photograph of Senator Lattimer had sprung to Williams's mind, for +the affair between the countess and the Iowa statesman was public +property. + +Telling the chauffeur to wait in the outer room, the operative called +the Lattimer home and insisted on speaking to the Senator. + +"Yes, it's a matter of vital importance!" he snapped. Then, a few +moments later, when a gruff but sleepy voice inquired what he wanted: + +"This is Williams of the Secret Service speaking, Senator. Have you any +documents of importance--international importance--in your office at the +present moment?" + +"No, nothing of particular value. Wait a minute! A copy of a certain +report to the Committee on Foreign Relations arrived late yesterday and +I remember seeing it on my desk as I left. Why? What's the matter?" + +"Nothing--except that I don't think that report is there now," replied +Williams. "Can you get to your office in ten minutes?" + +"I'll be there!" + +But a thorough search by the two of them failed to reveal any trace of +the document. It had gone--vanished--in spite of the fact that the door +was locked as usual. + +"Senator," announced the government agent, "a certain woman you know +took that paper. She got in here with a false key, lifted the report and +was out again in less than five minutes. The theft occurred shortly +after midnight and--" + +"If you know so much about it, why don't you arrest her?" + +"I shall--before the hour is up. Only I thought you might like to know +in advance how your friend the Countess Stefani worked. She was also +responsible for the theft of the plans of the battleship _Pennsylvania_, +you know." + +And Williams was out of the room before the look of amazement had faded +from the Senator's face. + +Some thirty minutes later the Countess Sylvia was awakened by the sound +of continued rapping on her door. In answer to her query, "Who's +there?" a man's voice replied, "Open this door, or I'll break it in!" + +Williams, however, knew that his threat was an idle one, for the doors +at Brickley Court were built of solid oak that defied anything short of +a battering ram. Which was the reason that he had to wait a full five +minutes, during which time he distinctly heard the sound of paper +rattling and then the rasp of a match as it was struck. + +Finally the countess, attired in a bewitching negligee, threw open the +door. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed. "So it is you, Mr. Williams! What do you--" + +"You know what I want," growled Owen. "That paper you stole from +Lattimer's office to-night. Also the plans you lifted from the Navy +Department. The ones you mailed in New York yesterday afternoon and +which were waiting for you here!" + +"Find them!" was the woman's mocking challenge as Williams's eyes roved +over the room and finally rested on a pile of crumbled ashes beside an +alcohol lamp on the table. A moment's examination told him that a blue +print had been burned, but it was impossible to tell what it had been, +and there was no trace of any other paper in the ashes. + +"Search her!" he called to a woman in the corridor. "I'm going to rifle +the mail-box downstairs. She can't get away with the same trick three +times!" + +And there, in an innocent-looking envelope addressed to a certain +personage whose name stood high on the diplomatic list, Williams +discovered the report for which a woman risked her liberty and gambled +six months of her life! + + * * * * * + +"But the plans?" I asked as Quinn finished. + +"Evidently that was what she had burned. She'd taken care to crumple the +ashes so that it was an impossibility to get a shred of direct evidence, +not that it would have made any difference if she hadn't. The government +never prosecutes matters of this kind, except in time of war. They +merely warn the culprit to leave the country and never return--which is +the reason that, while you'll find a number of very interesting +foreigners in Washington at the present moment, the Countess Sylvia +Stefani is not among them. Neither is the personage to whom her letter +was addressed. He was 'recalled' a few weeks later." + + + + +XXI + +A MILLION-DOLLAR QUARTER + + +"What's in the phial?" I inquired one evening, as Bill Quinn, formerly +of the United States Secret Service, picked up a small brown bottle from +the table in his den and slipped it into his pocket. + +"Saccharine," retorted Quinn, laconically. "Had to come to it in order +to offset the sugar shortage. No telling how long it will continue, and, +meanwhile, we're conserving what we have on hand. So I carry my 'lump +sugar' in my vest pocket, and I'll keep on doing it until conditions +improve. They say the trouble lies at the importing end. Can't secure +enough sugar at the place where the ships are or enough ships at the +place where the sugar is. + +"This isn't the first time that sugar has caused trouble, either. See +that twenty-five-cent piece up there on the wall? Apparently it's an +ordinary everyday quarter. But it cost the government well over a +million dollars, money which should have been paid in as import duty on +tons upon tons of sugar. + +"Yes, back of that quarter lies a case which is absolutely unique in the +annals of governmental detective work--the biggest and most far-reaching +smuggling plot ever discovered and the one which took the longest time +to solve. + +"Nine years seems like a mighty long time to work on a single +assignment, but when you consider that the Treasury collected more than +two million dollars as a direct result of one man's labor during that +time, you'll see that it was worth while." + + * * * * * + +The whole thing really started when Dick Carr went to work as a sugar +sampler [continued Quinn, his eyes fixed meditatively upon the quarter +on the wall]. + +Some one had tipped the department off to the fact that phony sampling +of some sort was being indulged in and Dick managed to get a place as +assistant on one of the docks where the big sugar ships unloaded. As you +probably know, there's a big difference in the duty on the different +grades of raw sugar; a difference based upon the tests made by expert +chemists as soon as the cargo is landed. Sugar which is only ninety-two +per cent pure, for example, comes in half-a-cent a pound cheaper than +that which is ninety-six per cent pure, and the sampling is accomplished +by inserting a thin glass tube through the wide meshes of the bag or +basket which contains the sugar. + +It didn't take Carr very long to find out that the majority of the +samplers were slipping their tubes into the bags at an angle, instead of +shoving them straight in, and that a number of them made a practice of +moistening the outside of the container before they made their tests. +The idea, of course, was that the sugar which had absorbed moisture, +either during the voyage or after reaching the dock--would not "assay" +as pure as would the dry material in the center of the package. A few +experiments, conducted under the cover of night, showed a difference of +four to six per cent in the grade of the samples taken from the inside +of the bag and that taken from a point close to the surface, +particularly if even a small amount of water had been judiciously +applied. + +The difference, when translated into terms of a half-a-cent a pound +import duty, didn't take long to run up into hundreds of thousands of +dollars, and Carr's report, made after several months' investigating, +cost a number of sugar samplers their jobs and brought the wrath of the +government down upon the companies which had been responsible for the +practice. + +After such an exposure as this, you might think that the sugar people +would have been content to take their legitimate profit and to pay the +duty levied by law. But Carr had the idea that they would try to put +into operation some other scheme for defrauding the Treasury and during +years that followed he kept in close touch with the importing situation +and the personnel of the men employed on the docks. + +The active part he had played in the sugar-sampling exposure naturally +prevented his active participation in any attempt to uncover the fraud +from the inside, but it was the direct cause of his being summoned to +Washington when a discharged official of one of the sugar companies +filed a charge that the government was losing five hundred thousand +dollars a year by the illicit operations at a single plant. + +"Frankly, I haven't the slightest idea of how it's being done," +confessed the official in question. "But I am certain that some kind of +a swindle is being perpetrated on a large scale. Here's the proof!" + +With that he produced two documents--one the bill of lading of the +steamer _Murbar_, showing the amount of sugar on board when she cleared +Java, and the other the official receipt, signed by a representative of +the sugar company, for her cargo when she reached New York. + +"As you will note," continued the informant, "the bill of lading clearly +shows that the _Murbar_ carried eleven million seven hundred thirty-four +thousand six hundred eighty-seven pounds of raw sugar. Yet, when +weighed under the supervision of the customhouse officials a few weeks +later, the cargo consisted of only eleven million thirty-two thousand +and sixteen pounds--a 'shrinkage' of seven hundred two thousand six +hundred seventy-one pounds, about six per cent of the material +shipment." + +"And at the present import duty that would amount to about--" + +"In the neighborhood of twelve thousand dollars loss on this ship +alone," stated the former sugar official. "Allowing for the arrival of +anywhere from fifty to a hundred ships a year, you can figure the annual +deficit for yourself." + +Carr whistled. He had rather prided himself upon uncovering the sampling +frauds a few years previously, but this bade fair to be a far bigger +case--one which would tax every atom of his ingenuity to uncover. + +"How long has this been going on?" inquired the acting Secretary of the +Treasury. + +"I can't say," admitted the informant. "Neither do I care to state how I +came into possession of these documents. But, as you will find when you +look into the matter, they are entirely authoritative and do not refer +to an isolated case. The _Murbar_ is the rule, not the exception. It's +now up to you people to find out how the fraud was worked." + +"He's right, at that," was the comment from the acting Secretary, when +the former sugar official had departed. "The information is undoubtedly +the result of a personal desire to 'get even'--for our friend recently +lost his place with the company in question. However, that hasn't the +slightest bearing upon the truth of his charges. Carr, it's up to you to +find out what there is in 'em!" + +"That's a man-sized order, Mr. Secretary," smiled Dick, "especially as +the work I did some time ago on the sampling frauds made me about as +popular as the plague with the sugar people. If I ever poked my nose on +the docks at night you'd be out the price of a big bunch of white roses +the next day!" + +"Which means that you don't care to handle the case?" + +"Not so that you could notice it!" snapped Carr. "I merely wanted you to +realize the handicaps under which I'll be working, so that there won't +be any demand for instant developments. This case is worth a million +dollars if it's worth a cent. And, because it is so big, it will take a +whole lot longer to round up the details than if we were working on a +matter that concerned only a single individual. If you remember, it took +Joe Gregory nearly six months to land Phyllis Dodge, and therefore--" + +"Therefore it ought to take about sixty years to get to the bottom of +this case, eh?" + +"Hardly that long. But I would like an assurance that I can dig into +this in my own way and that there won't be any 'Hurry up!' message sent +from this end every week or two." + +"That's fair enough," agreed the Assistant Secretary. "You know the ins +and outs of the sugar game better than any man in the service. So hop to +it and take your time. We'll content ourselves with sitting back and +awaiting developments." + +Armed with this assurance, Carr went back to New York and began +carefully and methodically to lay his plans for the biggest game ever +hunted by a government detective--a ring protected by millions of +dollars in capital and haunted by the fear that its operations might +some day be discovered. + +In spite of the fact that it was necessary to work entirely in the dark, +Dick succeeded in securing the manifests and bills of lading of three +other sugar ships which had recently been unloaded, together with copies +of the receipts of their cargoes. Every one of these indicated the same +mysterious shrinkage en route, amounting to about six per cent of the +entire shipment, and, as Carr figured it, there were but two +explanations which could cover the matter. + +Either a certain percentage of the sugar had been removed from the hold +and smuggled into the country before the ship reached New York, or there +was a conspiracy of some kind which involved a number of the weighers on +the docks. + +"The first supposition," argued Carr, "is feasible but hardly within the +bounds of probability. If the shortage had occurred in a shipment of +gold or something else which combines high value with small volume, +that's where I'd look for the leak. But when it comes to hundreds of +thousands of pounds of sugar--that's something else. You can't carry +that around in your pockets or even unload it without causing comment +and employing so many assistants that the risk would be extremely great. + +"No, the answer must lie right here on the docks--just as it did in the +sampling cases." + +So it was on the docks that he concentrated his efforts, working through +the medium of a girl named Louise Wood, whom he planted as a file clerk +and general assistant in the offices of the company which owned the +_Murbar_ and a number of other sugar ships. + +This, of course, wasn't accomplished in a day, nor yet in a month. As a +matter of fact, it was February when Carr was first assigned to the case +and it was late in August when the Wood girl went to work. But, as Dick +figured it, this single success was worth all the time and trouble spent +in preparing for it. + +It would be hard, therefore, to give any adequate measure of his +disappointment when the girl informed him that everything in her office +appeared to be straight and aboveboard. + +"You know, Dick," reported Louise, after she had been at work for a +couple of months, "I'm not the kind that can have the wool pulled over +my eyes. If there was anything crooked going on, I'd spot it before +they'd more than laid their first plans. But I've had the opportunity of +going over the files and the records and it's all on the level." + +"Then how are you to account for the discrepancies between the bills of +lading and the final receipts?" queried Carr, almost stunned by the +girl's assurance. + +"That's what I don't know," she admitted. "It certainly looks queer, but +of course it is possible that the men who ship the sugar deliberately +falsify the records in order to get more money and that the company pays +these statements as a sort of graft. That I can't say. It doesn't come +under my department, as you know. Neither is it criminal. What I do know +is that the people on the dock have nothing to do with faking the +figures." + +"Sure you haven't slipped up anywhere and given them a suspicion as to +your real work?" + +"Absolutely certain. I've done my work and done it well. That's what I +was employed for and that's what's given me access to the files. But, as +for suspicion--there hasn't been a trace of it!" + +It was in vain that Carr questioned and cross-questioned the girl. She +was sure of herself and sure of her information, positive that no +crooked work was being handled by the men who received the sugar when it +was unloaded from the incoming ships. + +Puzzled by the girl's insistence and stunned by the failure of the plan +upon which he had banked so much, Carr gave the matter up as a bad +job--telling Louise that she could stop her work whenever she wished, +but finally agreeing to her suggestion that she continue to hold her +place on the bare chance of uncovering a lead. + +"Of course," concluded the girl, "you may be right, after all. They may +have covered their tracks so thoroughly that I haven't been able to pick +up the scent. I really don't believe that they have--but it's worth the +gamble to me if it is to you." + +More than a month passed before the significance of this speech dawned +upon Dick, and then only when he chanced to be walking along Fifth +Avenue one Saturday afternoon and saw Louise coming out of Tiffany's +with a small cubical package in her hand. + +"Tiffany's--" he muttered. "I wonder--" + +Then, entering the store, he sought out the manager and stated that he +would like to find out what a lady, whom he described, had just +purchased. The flash of his badge which accompanied this request turned +the trick. + +"Of course, it's entirely against our rules," explained the store +official, "but we are always glad to do anything in our power to assist +the government. Just a moment. I'll call the clerk who waited on her." + +"The lady," he reported a few minutes later, "gave her name as Miss +Louise Wood and her address as--" + +"I know where she lives," snapped Carr. "What did she buy?" + +"A diamond and platinum ring." + +"The price?" + +"Eight hundred and fifty dollars." + +"Thanks," said the operative and was out of the office before the +manager could frame any additional inquiries. + +When the Wood girl answered a rather imperative ring at the door of her +apartment she was distinctly surprised at the identity of her caller, +for she and Carr had agreed that it would not be wise for them to meet +except by appointment in some out-of-the-way place. + +"Dick!" she exclaimed. "What brings you here? Do you think it's safe?" + +"Safe or not," replied the operative, entering and closing the door +behind him. "I'm here and here I'm going to stay until I find out +something. Where did you get the money to pay for that ring you bought +at Tiffany's to-day?" + +"Money? Ring?" echoed the girl. "What are you talking about?" + +"You know well enough! Now don't stall. Come through! Where'd you get +it?" + +"An--an aunt died and left it to me," but the girl's pale face and +halting speech belied her words. + +"Try another one," sneered Carr. "Where did you get that eight hundred +and fifty dollars?" + +"What business is it of yours? Can't I spend my own money in my own way +without being trailed and hounded all over the city?" + +"You can spend your own money--the money you earn by working and the +money I pay you for keeping your eyes open on the dock as you please. +But--" and here Carr reached forward and grasped the girl's wrist, +drawing her slowly toward him, so that her eyes looked straight into +his, "when it comes to spending other money--money that you got for +keeping your mouth shut and putting it over on me--that's another +story." + +"I didn't, Dick; I didn't!" + +"Can you look me straight in the eyes and say that they haven't paid you +for being blind? That they didn't suspect what you came to the dock +for, and declared you in on the split? No! I didn't think you could!" + +With that he flung her on a couch and moved toward the door. Just as his +hand touched the knob he heard a voice behind him, half sob and half +plea, cry, "Dick!" + +Reluctantly he turned. + +"Dick, as there's a God in heaven I didn't mean to double cross you. But +they were on to me from the first. They planted some stamps in my pocket +during the first week I was there and then gave me my choice of bein' +pulled for thieving or staying there at double pay. I didn't want to do +it, but they had the goods on me and I had to. They said all I had to do +was to tell you that nothing crooked was goin' on--and they'll pay me +well for it." + +"While you were also drawing money from me, eh?" + +"Sure I was, Dick. I couldn't ask you to stop my pay. You'd have +suspected. Besides, as soon as you were done with me, they were, too." + +"That's where the eight hundred and fifty dollars came from?" + +"Yes, and a lot more. Oh, they pay well, all right!" + +For fully a minute there was silence in the little apartment, broken +only by the sobs of the girl on the couch. Finally Carr broke the +strain. + +"There's only one way for you to square yourself," he announced. "Tell +me everything you know--the truth and every word of it!" + +"That's just it, Dick. I don't know anything--for sure. There's +something goin' on. No doubt of that. But what it is I don't know. They +keep it under cover in the scale house." + +"In the scale house?" + +"Yes; they don't allow anyone in there without a permit. Somebody +uptown tips 'em off whenever a special agent is coming down, so they can +fix things. But none of the staff knows, though nearly all of them are +drawin' extra money for keeping their mouths shut." + +"Who are the men who appear to be implicated?" + +"Mahoney, the checker for the company, and Derwent, the government +weigher." + +"Derwent!" + +"Yes, he's in on it, too. I tell you, Dick, the thing's bigger than you +ever dreamed. It's like an octopus, with tentacles that are fastened on +everyone connected with the place." + +"But no clue as to the location of the body of the beast?" + +"Can't you guess? You know the number of their office uptown. But +there's no use hoping to nab them. They're too well protected. I doubt +if you can even get at the bottom of the affair on the dock." + +"I don't doubt it!" Carr's chin had settled itself determinedly and his +mouth was a thin red line. "I'm going to give you a chance to redeem +yourself. Go back to work as usual on Monday. Don't let on, by word or +gesture, that anything has changed. Just await developments. If you'll +do that, I'll see that you're not implicated. More than that, I'll +acknowledge you at the proper time as my agent--planted there to double +cross the fraud gang. You'll have your money and your glory and your +satisfaction of having done the right thing, even though you didn't +intend to do it. Are you on?" + +"I am, Dick. I won't say a word. I promise!" + +"Good! You'll probably see me before long. But don't recognize me. +You'll be just one of the girls and it'll probably be necessary to +include you in the round-up. I'll fix that later. Good-by," and with +that he was off. + +Not expecting that Carr would be able to complete his plans for at least +a week, Louise was startled when the operative arrived at the dock on +the following Monday morning. He had spent the previous day in +Washington, arranging details, and his appearance at the company's +office--while apparently casual--was part of the program mapped out in +advance. What was more, Carr had come to the dock from the station, so +as to prevent the "inside man" from flashing a warning of his arrival. + +Straight through the office he strode, his right hand swinging at his +side, his left thrust nonchalantly in the pocket of his topcoat. + +Before he had crossed halfway to the door of the scale room he was +interrupted by a burly individual, who demanded his business. + +"I want to see Mr. Derwent or Mr. Mahoney," replied Carr. + +"They're both engaged at present," was the answer. "Wait here, and I'll +tell them." + +"Get out of my road!" growled the operative, pulling back the lapel of +his coat sufficiently to afford a glimpse of his badge. "I'll see them +where they are," and before the guardian of the scale house door had +recovered from his astonishment Carr was well across the portals. + +The first thing that caught his eye was the figure of a man bending over +the weight beam of one of the big scales, while another man was making +some adjustments on the other side of the apparatus. + +Derwent, who was facing the door, was the first to see Carr, but before +he could warn his companion, the special agent was on top of them. + +"Who are you? What business have you in here?" demanded the government +weigher. + +"Carr is my name," replied Dick. "Possibly you've heard of me. If so, +you know my business. Catching sugar crooks!" + +Derwent's face went white for a moment and then flushed a deep red. +Mahoney, however, failed to alter his position. He remained bending over +the weight beam, his finger nails scratching at something underneath. + +"Straighten up there!" ordered Carr. "You--Mahoney--I mean! Straighten +up!" + +"I'll see you in hell first!" snapped the other. + +"You'll be there soon enough if you don't get up!" was Carr's reply, as +his left hand emerged from his coat pocket, bringing to light the +blue-steel barrel of a forty-five. "Get--" + +Just at that moment, from a point somewhere near the door of the scale +room, came a shrill, high-pitched cry--a woman's voice: + +"Dick!" it called. "Lookout! Jump!" + +Instantly, involuntarily, the operative leaped sidewise, and as he did +so a huge bag of raw sugar crashed to the floor, striking directly on +the spot where he had stood. + +"Thanks, Lou," called Carr, without turning his head. "You saved me that +time all right! Now, gentlemen, before any more bags drop, suppose we +adjourn uptown. We're less likely to be interrupted there," and he +sounded a police whistle, which brought a dozen assistants on the run. + +"Search Mahoney," he directed. "I don't think Derwent has anything on +him. What's that Mahoney has in his hand?" + +"Nothin' but a quarter, sir, an' what looks like an old wad o' chewin' +gum." + +Puzzled, Carr examined the coin. Then the explanation of the whole +affair flashed upon him as he investigated the weight-beam and found +fragments of gum adhering to the lower part, near the free end. + +"So that was the trick, eh?" he inquired. "Quite a delicate bit of +mechanism, this scale--in spite of the fact that it was designed to +weigh tons of material. Even a quarter, gummed on to the end of the +beam, would throw the whole thing out enough to make it well worth +while. I think this coin and the wad of gum will make very interesting +evidence--Exhibits A and B--at the trial, after we've rounded up the +rest of you." + + * * * * * + +"And that," concluded Quinn, "is the story which lies behind that +twenty-five-cent piece--probably the most valuable bit of money, judged +from the standpoint of what it has accomplished, in the world." + +"Derwent and Mahoney?" I asked. "What happened to them? And did Carr +succeed in landing the men higher up?" + +"Unfortunately," and Quinn smiled rather ruefully, "there is such a +thing as the power of money. The government brought suit against the +sugar companies implicated in the fraud and commenced criminal +proceedings against the men directly responsible for the manipulation of +the scales. (It developed that they had another equally lucrative method +of using a piece of thin corset steel to alter the weights.) But the +case was quashed upon the receipt of a check for more than two million +dollars, covering back duties uncollected, so the personal indictments +were allowed to lapse. It remains, however, the only investigation I +ever heard of in which success was so signal and the amount involved so +large. + +"Todd, of the Department of Justice, handled a big affair not long +afterward, but, while some of the details were even more unusual and +exciting, the theft was only a paltry two hundred and fifty thousand +dollars." + +"Which case was that?" + +"The looting of the Central Trust Company," replied the former +operative, rising and stretching himself. "Get along with you. It's time +for me to lock up." + + + + +XXII + +"THE LOOTING OF THE C. T. C." + + +There was a wintry quality in the night itself that made a comfortable +chair and an open fire distinctly worth the payment of a luxury tax. Add +to this the fact that the chairs in the library den of William J. +Quinn--formerly "Bill Quinn, United States Secret Service"--were roomy +and inviting, while the fire fairly crackled with good cheer, and you'll +know why the conversation, after a particularly good dinner on the +evening in question, was punctuated by pauses and liberally interlarded +with silences. + +Finally, feeling that it was really necessary that I say something, I +remarked upon the fierceness of the wind and the biting, stinging sleet +which accompanied a typical January storm. + +"Makes one long for Florida," I added. + +"Yes," agreed Quinn, "or even some point farther south. On a night like +this you can hardly blame a man for heading for Honduras, even if he did +carry away a quarter of a million of the bank's deposits with him." + +"Huh? Who's been looting the local treasury?" I asked, thinking that I +was on the point of getting some advance information. + +"No one that I know of," came from the depths of Quinn's big armchair. +"I was just thinking of Florida and warm weather, and that naturally led +to Honduras, which, in turn, recalled Rockwell to my mind. Ever hear of +Rockwell?" + +"Don't think I ever did. What was the connection between him and the +quarter-million you mentioned?" + +"Quite a bit. Rather intimate, as you might say. But not quite as much +as he had planned. However, if it hadn't been for Todd--" + +"Todd?" + +"Yes--Ernest E. Todd, of the Department of Justice. 'Extra Ernest,' they +used to call him, because he'd never give up a job until he brought it +in, neatly wrapped and ready for filing. More than one man has had cause +to believe that Todd's parents chose the right name for him. He may not +have been much to look at--but he sure was earnest." + + * * * * * + +Take the Rockwell case, for example [Quinn went on, after a preliminary +puff or two to see that his pipe was drawing well]. No one had the +slightest idea that the Central Trust Company wasn't in the best of +shape. Its books always balanced to a penny. There was never anything to +cause the examiner to hesitate, and its officials were models of +propriety. Particularly Rockwell, the cashier. Not only was he a pillar +of the church, but he appeared to put his religious principles into +practice on the other six days of the week as well. He wasn't married, +but that only boosted his stock in the eyes of the community, many of +which had daughters of an age when wedding bells sound very tuneful and +orange blossoms are the sweetest flowers that grow. + +When they came to look into the matter later on, nobody seemed to know +much about Mr. Rockwell's antecedents. He'd landed a minor position in +the bank some fifteen years before and had gradually lifted himself to +the cashiership. Seemed to have an absolute genius for detail and the +handling of financial matters. + +So it was that when Todd went back home on a vacation and happened to +launch some of his ideas on criminology--ideas founded on an intensive +study of Lombroso and other experts--he quickly got himself into deep +water. + +During the course of a dinner at one of the hotels, "E. E." commenced to +expound certain theories relating to crime and the physical appearance +of the criminal. + +"Do you know," he inquired, "that it's the simplest thing in the world +to tell whether a man--or even a boy, for that matter--has criminal +tendencies? There are certain unmistakable physical details that point +unerringly to what the world might call 'laxity of conscience,' but +which is nothing less than a predisposition to evil, a tendency to +crime. The lobes of the ears, the height and shape of the forehead, the +length of the little finger, the contour of the hand--all these are of +immense value in determining whether a man will go straight or crooked. +Employers are using them more and more every day. The old-fashioned +phrenologist, with his half-formed theories and wild guesses, has been +displaced by the modern student of character, who relies upon certain +rules which vary so little as to be practically immutable." + +"Do you mean to say," asked one of the men at the table, "that you can +tell that a man is a criminal simply by looking at him?" + +"If that's the case," cut in another, "why don't you lock 'em all up?" + +"But it isn't the case," was Todd's reply. "The physical characteristics +to which I refer only mean that a man is likely to develop along the +wrong lines. They are like the stars which, as Shakespeare remarked, +'incline, but do not compel.' If you remember, he added, 'The fault, +dear Brutus, lies in ourselves.' Therefore, if a detective of the modern +school is working on a case and he comes across a man who bears one or +more of these very certain brands of Cain, he watches that man very +carefully--at least until he is convinced that he is innocent. You can't +arrest a man simply because he looks like a crook, but it is amazing how +often the guideposts point in the right direction." + +"Anyone present that you suspect of forgery or beating his wife?" came +in a bantering voice from the other end of the table. + +"If you're in earnest," answered the government agent, "lay your hands +on the table." + +And everyone present, including Rockwell, cashier of the Central Trust +Company, placed his hands, palm upward, on the cloth--though there was a +distinct hesitation in several quarters. + +Slowly, deliberately, Todd looked around the circle of hands before him. +Then, with quite as much precision, he scanned the faces and +particularly the ears of his associates. Only once did his gaze hesitate +longer than usual, and then not for a sufficient length of time to make +it apparent. + +"No," he finally said. "I'd give every one of you a clean bill of +health. Apparently you're all right. But," and he laughed, "remember, I +said 'apparently.' So don't blame me if there's a murder committed +before morning and one or more of you is arrested for it!" + +That was all there was to the matter until Todd, accompanied by two of +his older friends, left the grill and started to walk home. + +"That was an interesting theory of yours," commented one of the men, +"but wasn't it only a theory? Is there any real foundation of fact?" + +"You mean my statement that you can tell by the shape of a man's head +and hands whether he has a predisposition to crime?" + +"Yes." + +"It's far from a theory, inasmuch as it has the support of hundreds of +cases which are on record. Besides, I had a purpose in springing it when +I did. In fact, it partook of the nature of an experiment." + +"You mean you suspected some one present--" + +"Not suspected, but merely wondered if he would submit to the test. I +knew that one of the men at the table would call for it. Some one in a +crowd always does--and I had already noted a startling peculiarity about +the forehead, nose, and ears of a certain dinner companion. I merely +wanted to find out if he had the nerve to withstand my inspection of his +hands. I must say that he did, without flinching." + +"But who was the man?" + +"I barely caught his name," replied Todd, "and this conversation must be +in strict confidence. After all, criminologists do not maintain that +every man who looks like a crook is one. They simply state and prove +that ninety-five per cent of the deliberate criminals, men who plan +their wrong well in advance, bear these marks. And the man who sat +across the table from me to-night has them, to an amazing degree." + +"Across the table from you? Why that was Rockwell, cashier of the +Central Trust!" + +"Precisely," stated Todd, "and the only reason that I am making this +admission is because I happen to know that both of you bank there." + +"But," protested one of the other men, "Rockwell has been with them for +years. He's worked himself up from the very bottom and had hundreds of +chances to make away with money if he wanted to. He's as straight as a +die." + +"Very possibly he is," Todd agreed. "That's the reason that I warn you +that what I said was in strict confidence. Neither one of you is to say +a word that would cast suspicion on Rockwell. It would be fatal to his +career. On the other hand, I wanted to give you the benefit of my +judgment, which, if you remember, you requested." + +But it didn't take a character analyst to see that the Department of +Justice man had put his foot in it, so far as his friends were +concerned. They were convinced of the cashier's honesty and no theories +founded on purely physical attributes could swerve them. They kept the +conversation to themselves, but Todd left town feeling that he had lost +the confidence of two of his former friends. + +It was about a month later that he ran into Weldon, the Federal Bank +Examiner for that section of the country, and managed to make a few +discreet inquiries about Rockwell and the Central Trust Company without, +however, obtaining even a nibble. + +"Everything's flourishing," was the verdict. "Accounts straight as a +string and they appear to be doing an excellent business. Fairly heavy +on notes, it's true, but they're all well indorsed. Why'd you ask? Any +reason to suspect anyone?" + +"Not the least," lied Todd. "It's my home town, you know, and I know a +lot of people who bank at the C. T. C. Just like to keep in touch with +how things are going. By the way, when do you plan to make your next +inspection?" + +"Think I'll probably be in there next Wednesday. Want me to say 'Hello' +to anybody?" + +"No, I'm not popular in certain quarters," Todd laughed. "They say I +have too many theories--go off half cocked and all that sort of thing." + +Nevertheless the Department of Justice operative arranged matters so +that he reached his home city on Tuesday of the following week, +discovering, by judicious inquiries, that the visit of the examiner had +not been forecast. In fact, he wasn't expected for a month or more. But +that's the way it is best to work. If bank officials know when to look +out for an examiner, they can often fix things on their books which +would not bear immediate inspection. + +Weldon arrived on schedule early the following morning, and commenced +his examination of the accounts of the First National, as was his habit. + +As soon as Todd knew that he was in town he took up his position outside +the offices of the Central Trust, selecting a vantage point which would +give him a clear view of both entrances of the bank. + +"Possibly," he argued to himself, "I am a damn fool. But just the same, +I have a mighty well-defined hunch that Mr. Rockwell isn't on the level, +and I ought to find out pretty soon." + +Then events began to move even quicker than he had hoped. + +The first thing he noted was that Jafferay, one of the bookkeepers of +the C. T. C., slipped out of a side door of the bank and dropped a +parcel into the mail box which stood beside the entrance. Then, a few +minutes later, a messenger came out and made his way up the street to +the State National, where--as Todd, who was on his heels--had little +trouble in discovering--he cashed a cashier's check for one hundred and +fifty thousand dollars, returning to the Central Trust Company with the +money in his valise. + +"Of course," Todd reasoned, "Rockwell may be ignorant of the fact that +Weldon doesn't usually get around to the State National until he has +inspected all the other banks. Hence the check will have already gone to +the clearing house and will appear on the books merely as an item of one +hundred and fifty thousand dollars due, rather than as a check from the +Central Trust. Yes, he may be ignorant of the fact--but it does look +funny. Wonder what that bookkeeper mailed?" + +Working along the last line of reasoning, the government operative +stopped at the post office long enough to introduce himself to the +postmaster, present his credentials, and inquire if the mail from the +box outside the Central Trust Company had yet been collected. Learning +that it had, he asked permission to inspect it. + +"You can look it over if you wish," stated the postmaster, "but, of +course, I have no authority to allow you to open any of it. Even the +Postmaster-General himself couldn't do that." + +"Certainly," agreed Todd. "I merely want to see the address on a certain +parcel and I'll make affidavit, if you wish, that I have reason to +suppose that the mails are being used for illegal purposes." + +"That won't be necessary. We'll step down to the parcel room and soon +find out what you want." + +Some five minutes later Todd learned that the parcel which he +recognized--a long roll covered with wrapping paper, so that it was +impossible to gain even an idea of what it contained--was addressed to +Jafferay, the bookkeeper, at his home address. + +"Thanks! Now if you can give me some idea of when this'll be delivered I +won't bother you any more. About five o'clock this afternoon? Fine!" and +the man from Washington was out of the post office before anyone could +inquire further concerning his mission. + +A telephone call disclosed the fact that Weldon was then making his +examination of the Central Trust Company books and could not be +disturbed, but Todd managed to get him later in the afternoon and made +an appointment for dinner, on the plea of official business which he +wished to discuss. + +That afternoon he paid a visit to the house of a certain Mr. Jafferay +and spent an hour in a vain attempt to locate the bank examiner. + +Promptly at six o'clock that official walked into Todd's room at the +hotel, to find the operative pacing restlessly up and down, visibly +excited and clutching what appeared to be a roll of paper. + +"What's the matter?" asked Weldon. "I'm on time. Didn't keep you waiting +a minute?" + +"No!" snapped Todd, "but where have you been for the last hour? Been +trying to reach you all over town." + +"Great Scott! man, even a human adding machine has a right to take a +little rest now and then. If you must know, I've been getting a shave +and a haircut. Anything criminal in that?" + +"Can't say that there is," and Todd relaxed enough to smile at his +vehemence. "But there is in this," unrolling the parcel that he still +held and presenting several large sheets of ruled paper for the +examiner's attention. "Recognise them?" + +"They appear to be loose leaves from the ledgers at the Central Trust +Company." + +"Precisely. Were they there when you went over the books this morning?" + +"I don't recall them, but it's possible they may have been." + +"No--they weren't. One of the bookkeepers mailed them to himself, at his +home address, while you were still at the First National. If I hadn't +visited his house this afternoon, in the guise of a book agent, and +taken a long chance by lifting this roll of paper, he'd have slipped +them back in place in the morning and nobody'd been any the wiser." + +"Then you mean that the bookkeeper is responsible for falsifying the +accounts?" + +"Only partially. Was the cash O. K. at the Central Trust?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Do you recall any record of a check for one hundred and fifty thousand +dollars upon the State National drawn and cashed this morning?" + +"No, there was no such check." + +"Yes, there was. I was present when the messenger cashed it and he took +the money back to the C. T. C. They knew you wouldn't get around to the +State before morning, and by that time the check would have gone to the +clearing house, giving them plenty of time to make the cash balance to a +penny." + +"Whom do you suspect of manipulating the funds?" + +"The man who signed the check--Rockwell, the cashier! That's why I was +trying to get hold of you. I haven't the authority to demand admittance +to the Central Trust vaults, but you have. Then, if matters are as I +figure them, I'll take charge of the case as an agent of the Department +of Justice." + +"Come on!" was Weldon's response. "We'll get up there right away, No use +losing time over it!" + +At the bank, however, they were told that the combination to the vault +was known to only three persons--the president of the bank, Rockwell, +and the assistant cashier. The president, it developed, was out of +town. Rockwell's house failed to answer the phone, and it was a good +half hour before the assistant cashier put in an appearance. + +When, in compliance with Weldon's orders, he swung back the heavy doors +which guarded the vault where the currency was stored, he swung around, +amazed. + +"It's empty!" he whispered. "Not a thing there save the bags of coin. +Why, I put some two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in paper money in +there myself this afternoon!" + +"Who was here at the time?" demanded Todd. + +"Only Mr. Rockwell. I remember distinctly that he said he would have to +work a little longer, but that there wouldn't be any necessity for my +staying. So I put the money in there, locked the door, and went on +home." + +"Do you know where Rockwell is now?" + +"At his house, I suppose. He lives at--" + +"I know where he lives," snapped Todd. "I also know that he isn't there. +I've had the place watched since five o'clock this afternoon--but +Rockwell hasn't shown up. Like the money--I think we can say 'with the +money'--he's gone, disappeared, vanished." + +"Then," said Weldon, "it is up to you to find him. My part of the job +ceased the moment the shortage was disclosed." + +"I know that and if you'll attend to making a report on the matter, +order the arrest of Jafferay, and spread the report of Rockwell's +embezzlement through police circles, I'll get busy on my own hook. +Good-by." And an instant later Todd was hailing a taxi and ordering the +chauffeur to break all the speed laws in reaching the house where +Rockwell boarded. + +Examination of the cashier's room and an extended talk with the +landlady failed, however, to disclose anything which might be termed a +clue. The missing official had visited the house shortly after noon, but +had not come back since the bank closed. He had not taken a valise or +suit case with him, declared the mistress of the house, but he had seemed +"just a leetle bit upset." + +Quickly, but efficiently, Todd examined the room--even inspecting the +bits of paper in the wastebasket and pawing over the books which lined +the mantel. Three of the former he slipped into his pocket and then, +turning, inquired: + +"Was Mr. Rockwell fond of cold weather?" + +"No, indeed," was the reply. "He hated winter. Said he never was +comfortable from November until May. He always--" + +But the "queer gentleman," as the landlady afterward referred to him, +was out of the house before she could detail her pet story of the +cashier's fondness for heat, no matter at what cost. + +No one at the station had seen Rockwell board a train, but inquiry at +the taxicab offices revealed the fact that a man, with his overcoat +collar turned up until it almost met his hat brim, had taken a cab for a +near-by town, where it would be easy for him to make connections either +north or south. + +Stopping only to wire Washington the bare outline of the case, with the +suggestion that the Canadian border be watched, "though it is almost +certain that Rockwell is headed south," Todd picked up the trail at the +railroad ticket office, some ten miles distant, and found that a man +answering to the description of his prey had bought passage as far as +St. Louis. But, despite telegraphic instructions, the Saint Louis police +were unable to apprehend anyone who looked like Rockwell and the +government operative kept right on down the river, stopping at Memphis +to file a message to the authorities in New Orleans. + +It was precisely a week after the looting of the Central Trust Company +that Todd stood on the docks in New Orleans, watching the arrival of the +passengers and baggage destined to go aboard the boat for Honduras. +Singly and in groups they arrived until, when the "all ashore" signal +sounded, the operative began to wonder if he were really on the right +trail. Then, at the last minute, a cab drove up and a woman, apparently +suffering from rheumatism, made her way toward the boat. Scenting a tip, +two stewards sprang to assist her, but Todd beat them to it. + +"Pardon me, madam," he said, "may I not--Drat that fly!" and with that +he made a pass at something in front of his face and accidentally +brushed aside the veil which hid the woman's face. + +He had barely time to realize that, as he had suspected, it was +Rockwell, disguised, before the "woman" had slipped out of the light +wrap which she had been wearing and was giving him what he later +admitted was the "scrap of his life." In fact, for several moments he +not only had to fight Rockwell, but several bystanders as well--for they +had only witnessed what they supposed was a totally uncalled for attack +upon a woman. In the mixup that followed Rockwell managed to slip away +and, before Todd had a chance to recover, was halfway across the street, +headed for the entrance to a collection of shanties which provided an +excellent hiding place. + +Tearing himself loose, Todd whipped out his revolver and fired at the +figure just visible in the gathering dusk, scoring a clean shot just +above the ankle--a flesh wound, that ripped the leg muscles without +breaking a bone. With a groan of despair Rockwell toppled over, clawing +wildly in an attempt to reach his revolver. But Todd was on top of him +before the cashier could swing the gun into action, and a pair of +handcuffs finished the career of the man who had planned to loot the C. +T. C. of a quarter million in cold cash. + +"The next time you try a trick like that," Todd advised him, on the +train that night, "be careful what you leave behind in your room. The +two torn letterheads of the Canadian Pacific nearly misled me, but the +other one referring to the Honduran line, plus the book on Honduras and +the fact that your landlady stated that you hated cold weather, gave you +dead away. Of course, even without that, it was a toss-up between Canada +and Central America. Those are the only two places where an embezzler is +comparatively safe these days. I hope, for the sake of your comfort, +they give you plenty of blankets in Joliet." + + * * * * * + +Quinn paused a moment to repack his pipe, and then, "So far as I know, +he's still handling the prison finances," he added. "Yes--they found at +the trial that he had had a clean record up to the moment he slipped, +but the criminal tendencies were there and he wasn't able to resist +temptation. He had speculated with the bank funds, covered his shortages +by removing the pages from the ledger and kiting checks through the +State National, and then determined to risk everything in one grand +clean-up. + +"He might have gotten away with it, too, if Todd hadn't spotted the +peculiarities which indicated moral weakness. However, you can't always +tell. No one who knew Mrs. Armitage would have dreamed that she +was--what she was." + +"Well," I inquired, "what was she?" + +"That's what puzzled Washington and the State Department for several +months," replied Quinn. "It's too long a story to spin to-night. That's +her picture up there, if you care to study her features." + +And I went home wondering what were the crimes of which such a beautiful +woman could have been guilty. + + + + +XXIII + +THE CASE OF MRS. ARMITAGE + + +To look at him no one would have thought that Bill Quinn had a trace of +sentiment in his make-up. Apparently he was just the grizzled old +veteran of a hundred battles with crime, the last of which--a raid on a +counterfeiter's den in Long Island--had laid him up with a game leg and +a soft berth in the Treasury Department, where, for years he had been an +integral part of the United States Secret Service. + +But in the place of honor in Quinn's library-den there hung the +photograph of a stunningly handsome woman, her sable coat thrown back +just enough to afford a glimpse of a throat of which Juno might have +been proud, while in her eyes there sparkled a light which seemed to +hint at much but reveal little. It was very evident that she belonged to +a world entirely apart from that of Quinn, yet the very fact that her +photograph adorned the walls of his den proved that she had been +implicated in some case which had necessitated Secret Service +investigation--for the den was the shrine of relics relating to cases in +which Quinn's friends had figured. + +Finally, one evening I gathered courage to inquire about her. + +"Armitage was her name," Quinn replied. "Lelia Armitage. At least that +was the name she was known by in Washington, and even the investigations +which followed Melville Taylor's exposure of her foreign connections +failed to reveal that she had been known by any other, save her maiden +name of Lawrence." + +"Where is she now?" I asked. + +"You'll have to ask me something easier," and Quinn smiled, a trifle +wistfully, I thought. "Possibly in London, perhaps in Paris, maybe in +Rio or the Far East. But wherever she is, the center of attention is not +very far away from her big violet-black eyes. Also the police of the +country where she is residing probably wish that they had never been +burdened with her." + +"You mean--" + +"That she was a crook? Not as the word is usually understood. But more +than one string of valuable pearls or diamonds has disappeared when +milady Armitage was in the neighborhood--though they were never able to +prove that she had lifted a thing. No, her principal escapade in this +country brought her into contact with the Secret Service, rather than +the police officials--which is probably the reason she was nailed with +the goods. You remember the incident of the 'leak' in the peace note, +when certain Wall Street interests cleaned up millions of dollars?" + +"Perfectly. Was she to blame for that?" + +"They never settled who was to blame for it, but Mrs. Armitage was +dealing through a young and decidedly attractive Washington broker at +the time and her account mysteriously multiplied itself half a dozen +times. + +"Then there was the affair of the Carruthers Code, the one which +ultimately led to her exposure at the hands of Taylor and Madelaine +James." + + * * * * * + +The Carruthers Code [Quinn went on] was admittedly the cleverest and yet +the simplest system of cipher communication ever devised on this side +of the Atlantic, with the possible exception of the one mentioned in +Jules Verne's "Giant Raft"--the one that Dr. Heinrich Albert used with +such success. Come to think of it, Verne wasn't an American, was he? He +ought to have been, though. He invented like one. + +In some ways the Carruthers system was even more efficient than the +Verne cipher. You could use it with less difficulty, for one thing, and +the key was susceptible of an almost infinite number of variations. Its +only weakness lay in the fact that the secret had to be written +down--and it was in connection with the slip of paper which contained +this that Mrs. Armitage came into prominence. + +For some two years Lelia Armitage had maintained a large and expensive +establishment on Massachusetts Avenue, not far from Sheridan Circle. +Those who claimed to know stated that there had been a Mr. Armitage, but +that he had died, leaving his widow enough to make her luxuriously +comfortable for the remainder of her life. In spite of the incidents of +the jeweled necklaces, no one took the trouble to inquire into Mrs. +Armitage's past until the leak in connection with the peace note and the +subsequent investigation of Paul Connor's brokerage house led to the +discovery that her name was among those who had benefited most largely +by the advance information. + +It was at that time that Melville Taylor was detailed to dig back into +her history and see what he could discover. As was only natural, he went +at once to Madelaine James, who had been of assistance to the Service in +more than one Washington case which demanded feminine finesse, plus an +intimate knowledge of social life in the national capital. + +"Madelaine," he inquired, "what do you know of a certain Mrs. Lelia +Armitage?" + +"Nothing particularly--except that one sees her everywhere. Apparently +has plenty of money. Supposed to have gotten it from her husband, who +has been dead for some time. Dresses daringly but expensively, +and--while there are at least a score of men, ranging all the way from +lieutenants in the army to captains of industry, who would like to marry +her--she has successfully evaded scandal and almost gotten away from +gossip." + +"Where'd she come from?" + +"London, I believe, by way of New York. Maiden name was Lawrence and the +late but not very lamented Mr. Armitage was reputed to have made his +money in South Africa." + +"All of which," commented Taylor, "is rather vague--particularly for +purposes of a detailed report." + +"Report? In what connection?" + +"Her name appears on the list of Connor's clients as one of the ones who +cleaned up on the 'leak.' Sold short and made a barrel of money when +stocks came down. The question is, Where did she get the tip?" + +"Possibly from Paul Connor himself." + +"Possibly--but I wish you'd cultivate her acquaintance and see if you +can pick up anything that would put us on the right track." + +But some six weeks later when Taylor was called upon to make a report of +his investigations he had to admit that the sheet was a blank. + +"Chief," he said, "either the Armitage woman is perfectly innocent or +else she's infernally clever. I've pumped everyone dry about her, and a +certain friend of mine, whom you know, has made a point of getting next +to the lady herself. She's dined there a couple of times and has talked +to her at a dozen teas and receptions. But without success. Mrs. +Armitage has been very frank and open about what she calls her 'good +fortune' on the stock market. Says she followed her intuition and sold +short when everyone else was buying. What's more, she says it with such +a look of frank honesty that, according to Madelaine, you almost have to +believe her." + +"Has Miss James been able to discover anything of the lady's past +history?" + +"Nothing more than we already know--born in England--husband made a +fortune in South Africa--died and left it to her. Have you tried tracing +her from the other side?" + +"Yes, but they merely disclaim all knowledge of her. Don't even +recognize the description. That may mean anything. Well," and chief +sighed rather disconsolately, for the leak puzzle had been a knotty one +from the start, "I guess we'd better drop her. Too many other things +going on to worry about a woman whose only offense seems to be an +intuitive knowledge of the way Wall Street's going to jump." + +It was at that moment that Mahoney, assistant to the chief, came in with +the information that the Secretary of State desired the presence of the +head of the Secret Service in his office immediately. + +In answer to a snapped, "Come along--this may be something that you can +take care of right away!" Taylor followed the chief to the State +Department, where they were soon closeted with one of the under +secretaries. + +"You are familiar with the Carruthers Code?" inquired the Assistant +Secretary. + +"I know the principle on which it operates," the chief replied, "but I +can't say that I've ever come into contact with it." + +"So far as we know," went on the State Department official, "it is the +most efficient cipher system in the world--simple, easy to operate, +almost impossible to decode without the key, and susceptible of being +changed every day, or every hour if necessary, without impairing its +value. However, in common with every other code, it has this +weakness--once the key is located the entire system is practically +valueless. + +"When did you discover the disappearance of the code secret?" asked +Taylor, examining his cigarette with an exaggerated display of interest. + +"How did you know it was lost?" demanded the Under Secretary. + +"I didn't--but the fact that your chief sent for mine and then you +launch into a dissertation on the subject of the code itself is open to +but one construction--some one has lifted the key to the cipher." + +"Yes, some one has. At least, it was in this safe last night"--here a +wave of his hand indicated a small and rather old-fashioned strong box +in the corner--"and it wasn't there when I arrived this morning. I +reported the matter to the Secretary and he asked me to give you the +details." + +"You are certain that the cipher was there last evening?" asked the +chief. + +"Not the cipher itself--at least not a code-book as the term is +generally understood," explained the Under Secretary. "That's one of the +beauties of the Carruthers system. You don't have to lug a bulky book +around with you all the time. A single slip of paper--a cigarette paper +would answer excellently--will contain the data covering a man's +individual code. The loss or theft of one of these would be +inconvenient, but not fatal. The loss of the master key, which was in +that safe, is irreparable. If it once gets out of the country it means +that the decoding of our official messages is merely a question of time, +no matter how often we switch the individual ciphers." + +"What was the size of the master key, as you call it?" + +"Merely a slip of government bond, about six inches long by some two +inches deep." + +"Was it of such a nature that it could have been easily copied?" + +"Yes, but anything other than a careful tracing or a photographic copy +would be valueless. The position of the letters and figures mean as much +as the marks themselves. Whoever took it undoubtedly knows this and will +endeavor to deliver the original--as a mark of good faith, if nothing +else." + +"Was this the only copy in existence?" + +"There are two others--one in the possession of the Secretary, the other +in the section which has charge of decoding messages. Both of these are +safe, as I ascertained as soon as I discovered that my slip was +missing." + +A few more questions failed to bring out anything more about the mystery +beyond the fact that the Assistant Secretary was certain that he had +locked the safe the evening before and he knew that he had found it +locked when he arrived that morning. + +"All of which," as Taylor declared, "means but little. The safe is of +the vintage of eighteen seventy, the old-fashioned kind where you can +hear the tumblers drop clean across the room. Look!" and he pointed to +the japanned front of the safe where a circular mark, some two inches in +diameter, was visible close to the dial. + +"Yes, but what is it?" demanded the Secretary. + +"The proof that you locked the safe last night," Taylor responded. +"Whoever abstracted the cipher key opened the safe with the aid of some +instrument that enabled them clearly to detect the fall of the tumblers. +Probably a stethoscope, such as physicians use for listening to a +patient's heart. Perfectly simple when you know how--particularly with +an old model like this." + +Finding that there was no further information available, Taylor and the +chief left the department, the chief to return to headquarters, Taylor +to endeavor to pick up the trail wherever he could. + +"It doesn't look like an inside job," was the parting comment of the +head of the Secret Service. "Anyone who had access to the safe would +have made some excuse to discover the combination, rather than rely on +listening to the click of the tumblers. Better get after the night +watchman and see if he can give you a line on any strangers who were +around the building last night." + +But the night watchman when roused from his sound forenoon's sleep was +certain that no one had entered the building on the previous evening +save those who had business there. + +"Everybody's got to use a pass now, you know," he stated. "I was on the +job all night myself an' divvle a bit of anything out of the ordinary +did I see. There was Mr. McNight and Mr. Lester and Mr. Greene on the +job in the telegraph room, and the usual crowd of correspondents over in +the press room, and a score of others who works there regular, an' Mrs. +Prentice, an'--" + +"Mrs. who?" interrupted Taylor. + +"Mrs. Prentice, wife of th' Third Assistant Secretary. She comes down +often when her husband is working late, but last night he must have gone +home just before she got there, for she came back a few minutes later +and said that the office was dark." + +Whatever Taylor's thoughts were at the moment he kept them to +himself--for Prentice was the man from whose safe the cipher key had +been abstracted! + +So he contented himself with inquiring whether the watchman was certain +that the woman who entered the building was Mrs. Prentice. + +"Shure an' I'm certain," was the reply. "I've seen her and that green +evening cape of hers trimmed with fur too often not to know her." + +"Do you know how long it was between the time that she entered the +building and the time she left?" persisted Taylor. + +"That I do not, sir. Time is something that you don't worry about much +when it's a matter of guarding the door to a building--particularly at +night. But I'd guess somewhere about five or ten minutes?" + +"Rather long for her to make her way to the office of her husband, find +he wasn't there, and come right back, wasn't it?" + +"Yes, sir--but you must remember I wasn't countin' the minutes, so to +speak. Maybe it was only three--maybe it was ten. Anyhow, it was just +nine-thirty when she left. I remember looking at the clock when she went +out." + +From the watchman's house, located well over in the northeastern section +of the city, Taylor made his way to Madelaine James's apartment on +Connecticut Avenue, discovering that young lady on the point of setting +off to keep a luncheon engagement. + +"I won't keep you a minute, Madelaine," promised the Secret Service +operative. "Just want to ask what you know about Mrs. Mahlon Prentice?" + +"Wife of the Third Assistant Secretary of State?" + +Taylor nodded. + +"She's a Chicago woman, I believe. Came here a couple of years ago when +her husband received his appointment. Rather good-looking and very +popular. I happened to be at a dinner with her last evening and--" + +"You what?" + +"I was at a dinner at the Westovers' last night," repeated the James +girl, "and Mrs. Prentice was among those present. Looked stunning, too. +What's the trouble?" + +"What time was the dinner?" Taylor countered. + +"Eight o'clock, but of course it didn't start until nearly +eight-thirty." + +"And what time did Mrs. Prentice leave?" + +"A few minutes after I did. She was just going up for her wraps as I +came downstairs at eleven o'clock." + +"You are certain that she was there all evening--that she didn't slip +out for half an hour or so?" + +"Of course I'm sure, Mell," the girl replied, a trace of petulance in +her voice. "Why all the questions? Do you suspect the wife of the Third +Assistant Secretary of State of robbing a bank?" + +"Not a bank," Taylor admitted, "but it happens that the safe in her +husband's office was opened last night and a highly important slip of +paper abstracted. What's more, the watchman on duty in the building is +ready to swear that Mrs. Prentice came in shortly before nine-thirty, +and went out some five or ten minutes later, stating that her husband +had evidently finished his work and left." + +"That's impossible! No matter what the watchman says, there are a score +of people who dined with Mrs. Prentice last evening and who know that +she didn't leave the Westovers' until after eleven. Dinner wasn't over +by nine-thirty, and she couldn't have gotten to the State Department and +back in less than twenty minutes at the inside. It's ridiculous, that's +all!" + +"But the watchman!" exclaimed Taylor. "He knows Mrs. Prentice and says +he couldn't miss that green-and-fur coat of hers in the dark. Besides, +she spoke to him as she was leaving." + +Madelaine James was silent for a moment, and a tiny frown appeared +between her eyes, evidence of the fact that she was doing some deep +thinking. + +Then: "Of course she spoke! Anyone who would go to the trouble of +copying Mrs. Prentice's distinctive cloak would realize that some +additional disguise was necessary. Last night, if you remember, was +quite cold. Therefore it would be quite natural that the woman who +impersonated Mrs. Prentice should have her collar turned up around her +face and probably a drooping hat as well. The collar, in addition to +concealing her features, would muffle her voice, while the watchman, not +suspecting anything, would take it for granted that the green cloak was +worn by the wife of the Under Secretary--particularly when she spoke to +him in passing." + +"You mean, then, that some one deliberately impersonated Mrs. Prentice +and took a chance on getting past the watchman merely because she wore a +cloak of the same color?" + +"The same color--the same style--practically the same coat," argued Miss +James. "What's more, any woman who would have the nerve to try that +would probably watch Prentice's office from the outside, wait for the +light to go out, and then stage her visit not more than five minutes +later, so's to make it appear plausible. How was the safe opened?" + +"Stethoscope. Placed the cup on the outside, and then listened to the +tumblers as they fell. Simplest thing in the world with an antiquated +box like that." + +"What's missing?" + +By this time Taylor felt that their positions had been reversed. He, who +had come to question, was now on the witness stand, while Madelaine +James was doing the cross-examining. But he didn't mind. He knew the way +the girl's mind worked, quickly and almost infallibly--her knowledge of +women in general and Washington society in particular making her an +invaluable ally in a case like this. + +"A slip of paper some six inches long and two inches wide," he said, +with a smile. "The key to the Carruthers Code, probably the most +efficient cipher in the world, but now rendered worthless unless the +original slip is located before it reaches some foreign power." + +"Right!" snapped Miss James. "Get busy on your end of the matter. See +what you can find out concerning this mysterious woman in the green +cloak. I'll work along other and what you would probably call strictly +unethical lines. I've got what a man would term a 'hunch,' but in a +woman it is 'intuition'--and therefore far more likely to be right. See +you later!" and with that she was off toward her car. + +"But what about your luncheon engagement?" Taylor called after her. + +"Bother lunch," she laughed back over her shoulder. "If my hunch is +right I'll make your chief pay for my meals for the next year!" + +The next that Taylor heard from his ally was a telephone call on the +following evening, instructing him to dig up his evening clothes and to +be present at a certain reception that evening. + +"I have reason to believe," said Madelaine's voice, "that the lady of +the second green cloak will be present. Anyhow, there'll be several of +your friends there--including myself, Mrs. Armitage, and an ambassador +who doesn't stand any too well with the Administration. In fact, I have +it on good authority that he's on the verge of being recalled. Naturally +we don't want him to take a slip of paper, some six inches by two, with +him!" + +"How do you know he hasn't it already?" + +"He doesn't return from New York until six o'clock this evening, and the +paper is far too valuable to intrust to the mails or to an underling. +Remember, I'm not certain that it is he who is supposed to get the paper +eventually, but I do know who impersonated Mrs. Prentice, and I likewise +know that the lady in question has not communicated with any foreign +official in person. Beyond that we'll have to take a chance on the +evening's developments," and the receiver was replaced before Taylor +could frame any one of the score of questions he wanted to ask. + +Even at the reception that night he was unable to get hold of Madelaine +James long enough to find out just what she did know. In fact, it was +nearly midnight before he caught the signal that caused him to enter one +of the smaller and rather secluded rooms apart from the main hall. + +There he found a tableau that was totally unexpected. + +In one corner of the room, her back against the wall and her teeth bared +in a snarl which distorted her usually attractive features into a mask +of hate, stood Mrs. Armitage. Her hands were crossed in front of her in +what appeared to be an unnatural attitude until Taylor caught a glimpse +of polished steel and realized that the woman had been handcuffed. + +"There," announced Madelaine, "in spite of your friend the watchman, +stands 'Mrs. Prentice.' You'll find the green cloak in one of the +closets at her home, and the stethoscope is probably concealed somewhere +around the house. However, that doesn't matter. The main thing is that +we have discovered the missing slip of paper. You'll find it on the +table over there." + +Taylor followed the girl's gesture toward a table at the side of the +room. But there, instead of the cipher key that he had expected, he saw +only--a gold bracelet! + +"What's the idea?" he demanded. "Where's the paper?" + +"Snap open the bracelet," directed the girl. "What do you see?" + +"It looks like--by gad! it is!--a tightly wrapped spindle of paper!" and +a moment later the original of the Carruthers Code reposed safely in the +Secret Service agent's vest pocket. As he tossed the empty bracelet back +on the table he heard a sound behind him and turned just in time to see +the woman in the corner slip to the floor in a dead faint. + +"Now that we've got her," inquired Madelaine James, "what'll we do with +her?" + +"Take off the handcuffs, leave the room, and close the door," directed +Taylor. "She'll hardly care to make any fuss when she comes to, and the +fact that she is unconscious gives us an excellent opportunity for +departing without a scene." + +"But what I'd like to know," he asked, as they strolled back toward the +main ballroom, "is how you engineered the affair?" + +"I told you I had an intuition," came the reply, "and you laughed at me. +Yes you did, too! It wasn't apparent on your face, but I could feel that +inside yourself you were saying, 'Just another fool idea.' But Mrs. +Armitage was preying on my mind. I didn't like the way she had slipped +one over on us in connection with the leak on the peace note. Then, too, +she seemed to have no visible means of support, but plenty of money. + +"I felt certain that she wasn't guilty of blackmail or any of the more +sordid kinds of crime, but the fact that she was on terms of familiarity +with a number of diplomats, and that she seemed to have a fondness for +army and navy officials, led me to believe that she was a sort of super +spy, sent over here for a specific purpose. The instant you mentioned +the Carruthers Code she sprang to my mind. A bill, slipped into the +fingers of her maid, brought the information about the green cloak, and +the rest was easy. + +"I figured that she'd have the cipher key on her to-night, for it was +her first opportunity of passing it along to the man I felt certain she +was working for. Sure enough, as she passed him about half an hour ago +she tapped her bracelet, apparently absent-mindedly. As soon as he was +out of sight I sent one of the maids with a message that some one wanted +to see her in one of the smaller rooms. Thinking that it was the +ambassador, she came at once. I was planted behind the door, handcuffed +her before she knew what I was doing, and then signaled you! + +"Quite elementary, my dear Melville, quite elementary!" + + * * * * * + +"That," added Quinn, "was the last they heard of Mrs. Armitage. Taylor +reported the matter at once, but the chief said that as they had the +code they better let well enough alone. The following day the woman left +Washington, and no one has heard from her since--except for a package +that reached Taylor some months later. There was nothing in it except +that photograph yonder, and, as Taylor was interested only in his bride, +_nee_ Madelaine James, he turned it over to me for my collection." + + + + +XXIV + +FIVE INCHES OF DEATH + + +"Quinn," I said one evening when the veteran of the United States Secret +Service appeared to be in one of his story-spinning moods, "you've told +me of cases that have to do with smuggling and spies, robberies and +fingerprints and frauds, but you've never mentioned the one crime that +is most common in the annals of police courts and detective bureaus." + +"Murder?" inquired Quinn, his eyes shifting to the far wall of his +library-den. + +"Precisely. Haven't government detectives ever been instrumental in +solving a murder mystery?" + +"Yes, they've been mixed up in quite a few of them. There was the little +matter of the Hallowell case--where the crime and the criminal were +connected by a shoelace--and the incident of 'The Red Circle.' But +murder, as such, does not properly belong in the province of the +government detective. Only when it is accompanied by some breach of the +federal laws does it come under the jurisdiction of the men from +Washington. Like the Montgomery murder mystery, for example." + +"Oh yes, the one connected with the postmark that's framed on your wall +over there!" I exclaimed. "I'd forgotten about that. Hal Preston handled +it, didn't he--the same man responsible for running down 'The Trail of +the White Mice'?" + +"That's the one," said Quinn, and I was glad to see him settle +luxuriously back in his old armchair--for that meant that he was +preparing to recall the details of an adventure connected with a member +of one of the government detective services. + + * * * * * + +If it hadn't been for the fact that Preston was in California at the +time, working on the case of a company that was using the mails for +illegal purposes, it is extremely doubtful if the mystery would ever +have been solved [Quinn continued]; certainly not in time to prevent the +escape of the criminal. + +But Hal's investigations took him well up into the foot-hills of the +Sierra Nevadas, and one morning he awoke to find the whole town in which +he was stopping ablaze with a discussion of the "Montgomery mystery," as +they called it. + +It appeared from the details which Preston picked up in the lobby of his +hotel that Marshall Montgomery had settled down in that section of the +country some three years before, but that he had surrounded himself with +an air of aloofness and detachment which had made him none too popular. +Men who had called to see him on matters of business had left smarting +under the sting of an ill-concealed snub, while it was as much as a book +agent's life was worth to try to gain entrance to the house. + +"It wasn't that he was stingy or close-fisted," explained one of the men +who had known Montgomery. "He bought more Liberty Bonds than anyone else +in town--but he bought them through his bank. Mailed the order in, just +as he did with his contributions to the Red Cross and the other +charitable organizations. Wouldn't see one of the people who went out to +his place. In fact, they couldn't get past the six or eight bulldogs +that guard the house." + +"And yet," said Preston, "I understand that in spite of his precautions +he was killed last night?" + +"Nobody knows just when he was killed," replied the native, "or how. +That's the big question. When his servant, a Filipino whom he brought +with him, went to wake him up this morning he found Montgomery's door +locked. That in itself was nothing unusual--for every door and window in +the place was securely barred before nine o'clock in the evening. But +when Tino, the servant, had rapped several times without receiving any +reply, he figured something must be wrong. So he got a stepladder, +propped it up against the side of the house, and looked in through the +window. What he saw caused him to send in a hurry call for the police." + +"Well," snapped Preston, "what did he see?" + +"Montgomery, stretched out on the floor near the door, stone dead--with +a pool of blood that had formed from a wound in his hand!" + +"In his hand?" Preston echoed. "Had he bled to death?" + +"Apparently not--but that's where the queer angle to the case comes in. +The door was locked from the inside--not only locked, but bolted, so +there was no possibility of anyone having entered the room. The windows +were tightly guarded by a patented burglar-proof device which permitted +them to be open about three inches from the bottom, but prevented their +being raised from the outside." + +"Was there a chimney or any other possible entrance to the room?" + +"None at all. Three windows and a door. Montgomery's body was sprawled +out on the rug near the doorway--a revolver in his right hand, a bullet +hole through the palm of his left. The first supposition, of course, +was that he had accidentally shot himself and had bled to death. But +there wasn't enough blood for that. Just a few drops on the table and a +small pool near the body. They're going to hold an autopsy later in the +day and--" + +It was at that moment that the Post-office operative became conscious +that some one was calling his name, and, turning, he beckoned to the +bell-boy who was paging him. + +"Mr. Preston? Gentleman over there'd like to speak to you." Then the boy +added in a whisper, "Chief o' police." + +Excusing himself, Preston crossed the lobby to where a large and +official-looking man was standing, well out of hearing distance of the +guests who passed. + +"Is this Mr. Preston of the Postal Inspection Service?" inquired the +head of the local police force, adding, after the government operative +had nodded. "I am the chief of police here." + +"Glad to meet you, Chief," was Preston's response. "I haven't had the +pleasure of making your acquaintance, though of course I know you by +sight." (He neglected to add how recently this knowledge had been +acquired.) "What can I do for you?" + +"Have you heard about the murder of Montgomery Marshall?" + +"Only the few details that I picked up in the lobby just now. But a case +of that kind is entirely out of my line, you know." + +"Ordinarily it would be," agreed the other, "but here's something that I +think puts a different complexion on things," and he extended a +bloodstained scrap of paper for Preston to examine. + +"That was found under the dead man's hand," the chief continued. "As you +will note, it originally formed part of the wrapping of a +special-delivery parcel which reached Montgomery about eight o'clock +last night--just before the house was locked up, in fact. Tino, the +Filipino servant, signed for it and took it in, placing it upon the +table in the room in which his master was found this morning. The scrap +of paper you are holding is just enough to show the postmark +'Sacramento'--but it's quite evident that the package had something to +do with the murder." + +"Which is the reason that you want me to look into it, eh?" + +"That's the idea. I knew that you were in town, and the very fact that +this box came through the mails makes it necessary for the Post-office +Department to take cognizance of what otherwise would be a job for the +police force alone. Am I right?" + +"Perfectly," replied Preston. "Provided you have reason to believe that +there was some connection between the special-delivery package and the +crime itself. What was in the box?" + +"Not a thing!" + +"What?" + +"Not a thing!" repeated the chief. "Perfectly empty--at least when we +found it. The lid was lying on the table, the rest of the box on the +floor. The major portion of the wrapping paper had been caught under a +heavy paper weight and it appears that Montgomery, in falling, caught at +the table to save himself and probably ripped away the scrap of paper I +have just given you." + +"But I thought his body was found near the door?" + +"It was, but that isn't far from the table, which is jammed against the +wall in front of one of the windows. Come on up to the house with me +and we'll go over the whole thing." + +Glad of the excuse to look into a crime which appeared to be +inexplicable, Preston accompanied the chief to the frame dwelling on the +outskirts of town where Montgomery Marshall, hermit, had spent the last +three years of his life. + +The house was set well back from the road, with but a single gateway in +a six-foot wall of solid masonry, around the top of which ran several +strands of barbed wire. + +"Montgomery erected the wall himself," explained the chief. "Had it put +up before he ever moved into the house, and then, in addition, kept a +bunch of the fiercest dogs I ever knew." + +"All of which goes to prove that he feared an attack," Preston muttered. +"In spite of his precautions, however, they got him! The question now +is: Who are 'they' and how did they operate?" + +The room in which the body had been found only added to the air of +mystery which surrounded the entire problem. + +In spite of what he had been told Preston had secretly expected to find +some kind of an opening through which a man could have entered. But +there was none. The windows, as the Postal operative took care to test +for himself, were tightly locked, though open a few inches from the +bottom. The bolt on the door very evidently had been shattered by the +entrance of the police, and the dark-brown stain on the rug near the +door showed plainly where the body had been found. + +"When we broke in," explained the chief, "Montgomery was stretched out +there, facing the door. The doctor said that he had been dead about +twelve hours, but that it was impossible for the wound in his hand to +have caused his death." + +"How about a poisoned bullet, fired through the opening in the window?" + +"Not a chance! The only wound on the body was the one through the palm +of his hand. The bullet had struck on the outside of the fleshy part +near the wrist and had plowed its way through the bone, coming out near +the base of the index finger at the back. And it was a bullet from his +own revolver! We found it embedded in the top of the table there." And +the chief pointed to a deep scar in the mahogany and to the marks made +by the knives of the police when they had dug the bullet out. + +"But how do you know it wasn't a bullet of the same caliber, fired from +outside the window?" persisted Preston. + +For answer the chief produced Montgomery's revolver, with five +cartridges still in the chambers. + +"If you'll note," he said, "each of these cartridges is scored or +seamed. That's an old trick--makes the lead expand when it hits and +tears an ugly hole, just like a 'dum-dum.' The bullet we dug out of the +table was not only a forty-five, as these are, but it had been altered +in precisely the same manner. So, unless you are inclined to the +coincidence that the murderer used a poisoned bullet of the same size +and make and character as those in Montgomery's gun, you've got to +discard that theory." + +"Does look like pulling the long arm of coincidence out of its socket," +Preston agreed. "So I guess we'll have to forget it. Where's the box you +were talking about?" + +"The lid is on the table, just as we found it. The lower portion of the +box is on the floor, where the dead man apparently knocked it when he +fell. Except for the removal of the body, nothing in the room has been +touched." + +Stooping, Preston picked up the box and then proceeded to study it in +connection with the lid and the torn piece of wrapping paper upon the +table. It was after he had examined the creases in the paper, fitting +them carefully around the box itself, that he inquired: "Do you notice +anything funny about the package, Chief?" + +"Only that there's a hole at one end of it, just about big enough to put +a lead pencil through." + +"Yes, and that same hole appears in the wrapping paper," announced +Preston. "Couple that with the fact that the box was empty when you +found it and I think we will have--" + +"What?" demanded the chief, as Preston paused. + +"The solution to the whole affair," was the reply. "Or, at least, as +much of it as refers to the manner in which Montgomery met his death. By +the way, what do you know about the dead man?" + +"Very little. He came here some three years ago, bought this place, +paying cash for it; had the wall built, and then settled down. Never +appeared to do any work, but was never short of money. Has a balance of +well over fifty thousand dollars in the bank right now. Beyond the fact +that he kept entirely to himself and refused to allow anyone but Tino, +his servant, to enter the gate, he really had few eccentricities. Some +folks say that he was a miser, but there are a dozen families here that +wouldn't have had any Christmas dinner last year if it hadn't been for +him--while his contribution to the Red Cross equaled that of anyone in +town." + +"Apart from his wanting to be alone, then, he was pretty close to being +human?" + +"That's it, exactly--and most of us have some peculiarity. If we didn't +have we'd be even more unusual." + +"What about Tino, the servant?" queried Preston. + +"I don't think there's any lead there," the chief replied. "I hammered +away at him for an hour this morning. He doesn't speak English any too +well, but I gathered that Montgomery picked him up in the Philippines +just before he came over here. The boy was frightened half out of his +senses when I told him that his master had been killed. You've got to +remember, though, that if Tino had wanted to do it he had a thousand +opportunities in the open. Besides, what we've got to find out first is +how Montgomery met his death?" + +"Does the Filipino know anything about his master's past?" asked +Preston, ignoring the chief's last remark. + +"He says not. Montgomery was on his way back to the States from Africa +or some place--stopped off in the islands--spent a couple of months +there--hired Tino and sailed for San Francisco." + +"Africa--" mused the Postal operative. Then, taking another track, he +inquired whether the chief had found out if Montgomery was in the habit +of getting much mail, especially from foreign points. + +"Saunders, the postmaster, says he didn't average a letter a month--and +those he did get looked like advertisements. They remembered this +special-delivery package last night because it was the first time that +the man who brought it out had ever come to the house. He rang the bell +at the gate, he says, turned the box over to Tino, and went along." + +"Any comment about the package?" + +"Only that it was very light and contained something that wabbled +around. I asked him because I figured at the time that the revolver +might have been in it. But the Filipino has identified that as +Montgomery's own gun. Says he'd had it as long as he'd known him." + +"Then all we know about this mysterious box," summarized Preston, "is +that it was mailed from Sacramento, that it wasn't heavy, that it had a +hole about a quarter-inch wide at one end, and that it contained +something that--what was the word the special-delivery man +used--'wabbled'?" + +"That's the word. I remember because I asked him if he didn't mean +'rattled,' and he said, 'No, wabbled, sort o' dull-like.'" + +"At any rate, that clears up one angle of the case. The box was not +empty when it was delivered! Granting that the Filipino was telling the +truth, it was not empty when he placed it on the table in this room! +That means that it was not empty when Marshall Montgomery, after locking +and bolting his door, took off the wrapping paper and lifted the lid! +You've searched the room thoroughly, of course?" + +"Every inch of it. We didn't leave a--" + +But the chief suddenly halted, his sentence unfinished. To the ears of +both men there had come a sound, faint but distinct. The sound of the +rattling of paper somewhere in the room. + +Involuntarily Preston whirled and scrutinized the corner from which the +sound appeared to have come. The chief's hand had slipped to his hip +pocket, but after a moment of silence he withdrew it and a slightly +shamefaced look spread over his face. + +"Sounded like a ghost, didn't it?" he asked. + +"Ghosts don't rattle papers," snapped Preston. "At least self-respecting +ones don't, and the other kind haven't any right to run around loose. So +suppose we try to trap this one." + +"Trap it? How?" + +"Like you'd trap a mouse--only with a different kind of bait. Is there +any milk in the house?" + +"Possibly--I don't know." + +"Go down to the refrigerator and find out, will you? I'll stay here +until you return. And bring a saucer with you." + +A few moments later, when the chief returned, bearing a bottle of milk +and a saucer, he found Preston still standing beside the table, his eyes +fixed upon a corner of the room from which the sound of rattling paper +had come. + +"Now all we need is a box," said the Postal operative. "I saw one out in +the hall that will suit our purposes excellently." + +Securing the box, he cut three long and narrow strips from the sides, +notched them and fitted them together in a rough replica of the figure +4, with the lower point of the upright stick resting on the floor beside +the saucer of milk and the wooden box poised precariously at the +junction of the upright and the slanting stick. + +"A figure-four trap, eh?" queried the chief. "What do you expect to +catch?" + +"A mixture of a ghost and the figure of Justice," was Preston's +enigmatic reply. "Come on--we'll lock the door and return later to see +if the trap has sprung. Meanwhile, I'll send some wires to Sacramento, +San Francisco, and other points throughout the state." + +The telegram, of which he gave a copy to the local chief of police, "in +order to save the expense of sending it," read: + + Wire immediately if you know anything of recent arrival from + Africa--probably American or English--who landed within past + three days. Wanted in connection with Montgomery murder. + +The message to San Francisco ended with the phrase "Watch outgoing boats +closely," and that to Sacramento "Was in your city yesterday." + +Hardly an hour later the phone rang and a voice from police +headquarters in Sacramento asked to speak to "Postal Inspector Preston." + +"Just got your wire," said the voice, "and I think we've got your man. +Picked him up on the street last night, unconscious. Hospital people say +he's suffering from poisoning of some kind and don't expect him to live. +Keeps raving about diamonds and some one he calls 'Marsh.' Papers on him +show he came into San Francisco two days ago on the _Manu_. Won't tell +his name, but has mentioned Cape Town several times." + +"Right!" cried Preston. "Watch him carefully until I get there. I'll +make the first train out." + +That afternoon Preston, accompanied by two chiefs of police, made his +way into a little room off the public ward in the hospital in +Sacramento. In bed, his face drawn and haggard until the skin seemed +like parchment stretched tightly over his cheekbones, lay a man at the +point of death--a man who was only kept alive, according to the +physicians, by some almost superhuman effort of the will. + +"It's certain that he's been poisoned," said the doctor in charge of the +case, "but he won't tell us how. Just lies there and glares and demands +a copy of the latest newspaper. Every now and then he drifts off into +delirium, but just when we think he's on the point of death he +recovers." + +Motioning to the others to keep in the background, Preston made his way +to the bedside of the dying man. Then, bending forward, he said, very +clearly and distinctly: "Marshall Montgomery is dead!" + +Into the eyes of the other man there sprang a look of concentrated +hatred that was almost tangible--a glare that turned, a moment later, +into supreme relief. + +"Thank God!" he muttered. "Now I'm ready to die!" + +"Tell me," said Preston, quietly--"tell me what made you do it." + +"He did!" gasped the man on the bed. "He and his damned brutality. When +I knew him his name was Marsh. We dug for diamonds together in South +Africa--found them, too--enough to make us both rich for life. But our +water was running low--barely enough for one of us. He, the skunk, hit +me over the head and left me to die--taking the water and the stones +with him." + +He paused a moment, his breath rattling in his throat, and then +continued: + +"It took me five years to find him--but you say he's dead? You're not +lying?" + +Preston shook his head slowly and the man on the bed settled back and +closed his eyes, content. + +"Ask him," insisted the chief of police, "how he killed Montgomery?" + +In a whisper that was barely audible came the words: "Sheep-stinger. Got +me first." Then his jaws clicked and there was the unmistakable gurgle +which meant that the end had come. + +"Didn't he say 'sheep-stinger'?" asked the chief of police, after the +doctor had stated that the patient had slipped away from the hands of +the law. + +"That's what it sounded like to me," replied Preston. "But suppose we go +back to Montgomery's room and see what our ghost trap has caught. I told +you I expected to land a figure of Justice--and if ever a man deserved +to be killed it appears to have been this same Montgomery Marshall, or +Marsh, as this man knew him." + +The instant they entered the room it was apparent that the trap had +sprung, the heavy box falling forward and completely covering the saucer +of milk and whatever had disturbed the carefully balanced sticks. + +Warning the chief to be careful, Preston secured a poker from an +adjoining room, covered the box with his automatic, and then carefully +lifted the box, using the poker as a lever. + +A second later he brought the head of the poker down on something that +writhed and twisted and then lay still, blending in with the pattern of +the carpet in such a manner as to be almost invisible. + +"A snake!" cried the chief. "But such a tiny one! Do you mean to say +that its bite is sufficiently poisonous to kill a man?" + +"Not only one, but two," Preston declared, "as you've seen for yourself. +See that black mark, like an inverted V, upon the head? That's +characteristic of the cobra family, and this specimen--common to the +veldts of South Africa where he is known as the 'sheep stinger'--is +first cousin to the big king cobras. Montgomery's former partner +evidently brought him over from Africa with this idea in mind. But when +he was packing him in the box--the airhole in the end of it gave me the +first inkling, by the way--he got careless and the snake bit him. Only +medical attention saved his life until this afternoon, else he'd have +passed along before Montgomery. I think that closes the case, Chief, and +in spite of the fact that the mails were used for a distinctly illegal +purpose, I believe your department ought to handle the matter--not +mine." + +"But the trap--the milk? How'd you happen to hit on that?" + +"When you told me what the special-delivery man said about the contents +of the package 'wabbling' I figured that the box must have contained a +snake," explained the Postal operative. "An animal would have made some +noise, while a snake, if well fed, will lie silent for hours at a time. +The constant motion, however, would have made it irritable--so that it +struck the moment Montgomery removed the lid of the box. That explains +the wound in his hand. He knew his danger and deliberately fired, hoping +to cauterize the wound and drive out the poison. It was too quick for +him, though, or possibly the shock stunned him so that he fell. + +"Then, in spite of the fact that your men claimed to have searched the +room thoroughly, that noise in the corner warned me that whatever killed +Montgomery was still here. Going on the theory that the majority of +snakes are fond of milk, I rigged up the trap. And there you are!" + + * * * * * + +"Yes," concluded Quinn, "the majority of the cases handled by government +detectives have to do with counterfeiting or smuggling or other crimes +against the federal law--offenses which ought to be exciting but which +are generally dull and prosaic. Every now and then, though, they stumble +across a real honest-to-goodness thrill, a story that's worth the +telling. + +"I've got to be away for the next couple of months or so, but drop +around when I get back and I'll see if I can't recall some more of the +problems that have been solved by one of the greatest, though least +known, detective agencies on the face of the earth." + + + THE END + + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Contents page changes made to agree with chapter headings: +"Lost--$100,000!"--quotes and exclamation point added. "The Double +Code"--quotes added. "Thirty Thousand," and again on P. 253--hyphen +removed (more frequent without). + +After Contents page, "On Secret Service" displays twice--once alone on +a page, and again above the Chapter I heading. One of the redundancies +has been deleted. + +Missing or incorrect punctuation repaired. + +Spelling errors fixed. + +Hyphenation variants changed to most frequently used version. + +P. 54 "Simpson lives" original reads "Simpson lived." + +P. 58 Thought break added for consistency. + +P. 89 "Douglass" changed to more frequently used "Douglas." + +P. 177 Code table: Original shows first number under q as "19." +Corrected to "17." + +P. 198 "well dressed" changed to "well-dressed." + +P. 221 two occurrences of "blonde" changed to more frequently used +"blond." + +Abbreviations "sub." and "ad." in original retained. + +"Charleston" and "Charlestown," "down town" and "downtown" (used +equally), "everyone" and "every one [of]," "resume" (for summary) and +"resume" (for assume anew), "loath" (for unwilling) and "loathe" (for +abhor), "mix-up" and "mixup" (used equally), "anyone" and "any one" (a +single, particular one) were used in this text and retained. + +Also retained "flivvered" (P. 104). + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's On Secret Service, by William Nelson Taft + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON SECRET SERVICE *** + +***** This file should be named 38131.txt or 38131.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/1/3/38131/ + +Produced by David Edwards, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/38131.zip b/38131.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc496ff --- /dev/null +++ b/38131.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f960df5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #38131 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38131) |
