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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:11:37 -0700 |
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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/38981-8.txt b/38981-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e7bc53 --- /dev/null +++ b/38981-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5222 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Chase of the Golden Plate, by Jacques Futrelle + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Chase of the Golden Plate + +Author: Jacques Futrelle + +Illustrator: Will Grefé + E. A. Poucher + +Release Date: February 25, 2012 [EBook #38981] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from images made available by the +HathiTrust Digital Library.) + + + + + + + + + +The Chase of the Golden Plate + + +[Illustration: "'You really do not love him, anyway,' he ventured"] + + + + + The Chase of the + Golden Plate + + By + Jacques Futrelle + + With Illustrations by Will Grefé + and Decorations by E. A. Poucher + + + New York + Dodd, Mead & Company + 1906 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY + THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY + DODD, MEAD & COMPANY + + _Published, October, 1906_ + + + + + To + _Three Women I Love_: + + FAMA, + and + MAYZIE, + and + BERTA + + + + +The Chase of the Golden Plate + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +PART I + +THE BURGLAR AND THE GIRL + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Cardinal Richelieu and the Mikado stepped out on a narrow balcony +overlooking the entrance to Seven Oaks, lighted their cigarettes and +stood idly watching the throng as it poured up the wide marble steps. +Here was an over-corpulent Dowager Empress of China, there an Indian +warrior in full paint and toggery, and mincing along behind him two +giggling Geisha girls. Next, in splendid robes of rank, came the Czar of +Russia. The Mikado smiled. + +"An old enemy of mine," he remarked to the Cardinal. + +A Watteau Shepherdess was assisted out of an automobile by Christopher +Columbus and they came up the walk arm-in-arm, while a Pierrette ran +beside them laughing up into their faces. D'Artagnan, Athos, Aramis, and +Porthos swaggered along with insolent, clanking swords. + +"Ah!" exclaimed the Cardinal. "There are four gentlemen whom I know +well." + +Mary Queen of Scots, Pocahontas, the Sultan of Turkey, and Mr. Micawber +chatted amicably together in one language. Behind them came a figure +which immediately arrested attention. It was a Burglar, with dark +lantern in one hand and revolver in the other. A black mask was drawn +down to his lips, a slouch hat shaded his eyes, and a kit of the tools +of his profession swung from one shoulder. + +"By George!" commented the Cardinal. "Now, that's clever." + +"Looks like the real thing," the Mikado added. + +The Burglar stood aside a moment, allowing a diamond-burdened Queen +Elizabeth to pass, then came on up the steps. The Cardinal and the +Mikado passed through an open window into the reception-room to witness +his arrival. + +[Illustration: "A figure which immediately arrested attention"] + +"Her Royal Highness, Queen Elizabeth!" the graven-faced servant +announced. + +The Burglar handed a card to the liveried Voice and noted, with obvious +amusement, a fleeting expression of astonishment on the stolid face. +Perhaps it was there because the card had been offered in that hand +which held the revolver. The Voice glanced at the name on the card and +took a deep breath of relief. + +"Bill, the Burglar!" he announced. + +There was a murmur of astonishment and interest in the reception-hall +and the ballroom beyond. Thus it was that the Burglar found himself the +centre of attention for a moment, while a ripple of laughter ran around. +The entrance of a Clown, bounding in behind him, drew all eyes away, +however, and the Burglar was absorbed in the crowd. + +It was only a few minutes later that Cardinal Richelieu and the Mikado, +seeking diversion, isolated the Burglar and dragged him off to the +smoking-room. There the Czar of Russia, who was on such terms of +intimacy with the Mikado that he called him Mike, joined them, and they +smoked together. + +"How did you ever come to hit on a costume like that?" asked the +Cardinal of the Burglar. + +The Burglar laughed, disclosing two rows of strong, white teeth. A cleft +in the square-cut, clean-shaven chin, visible below the mask, became +more pronounced. A woman would have called it a dimple. + +"I wanted something different," he explained. "I couldn't imagine +anything more extraordinary than a real burglar here ready to do +business, so I came." + +"It's lucky the police didn't see you," remarked the Czar. + +Again the Burglar laughed. He was evidently a good-natured craftsman, +despite his sinister garb. + +"That was my one fear--that I would be pinched before I arrived," he +replied. "'Pinched,' I may explain, is a technical term in my profession +meaning jugged, nabbed, collared, run in. It seemed that my fears had +some foundation, too, for when I drove up in my auto and stepped out a +couple of plain-clothes men stared at me pretty hard." + +He laid aside the dark lantern and revolver to light a fresh cigarette. +The Mikado picked up the lantern and flashed the light on and off +several times, while the Czar sighted the revolver at the floor. + +"Better not do that," suggested the Burglar casually. "It's loaded." + +"Loaded?" repeated the Czar. He laid down the revolver gingerly. + +"Surest thing, you know," and the Burglar laughed quizzically. "I'm the +real thing, you see, so naturally my revolver is loaded. I think I ought +to be able to make quite a good haul, as we say, before unmasking-time." + +"If you're as clever as your appearance would indicate," said the +Cardinal admiringly, "I see no reason why it shouldn't be worth while. +You might, for instance, make a collection of Elizabethan jewels. I +have noticed four Elizabeths so far, and it's early yet." + +"Oh, I'll make it pay," the Burglar assured him lightly. "I'm pretty +clever; practised a good deal, you know. Just to show you that I am an +expert, here is a watch and pin I took from my friend, the Czar, five +minutes ago." + +He extended a well-gloved hand in which lay the watch and diamond pin. +The Czar stared at them a moment in frank astonishment; patted himself +all over in sudden trepidation; then laughed sheepishly. The Mikado +tilted his cigar up to a level with the slant eyes of his mask, and +laughed. + +"In the language of diplomacy, Nick," he told the Czar, "you are what is +known as 'easy.' I thought I had convinced you of that." + +"Gad, you are clever," remarked the Cardinal. "I might have used you +along with D'Artagnan and the others." + +The Burglar laughed again and stood up lazily. + +"Come on, this is stupid," he suggested. "Let's go out and see what's +doing." + +"Say, just between ourselves tell us who you are," urged the Czar. "Your +voice seems familiar, but I can't place you." + +"Wait till unmasking-time," retorted the Burglar good-naturedly. "Then +you'll know. Or if you think you could bribe that stone image who took +my card at the door you might try. He'll remember me. I never saw a man +so startled in all my life as he was when I appeared." + +The quartet sauntered out into the ballroom just as the signal for the +grand march was given. A few minutes later the kaleidoscopic picture +began to move. Stuyvesant Randolph, the host, as Sir Walter Raleigh, and +his superb wife, as Cleopatra, looked upon the mass of colour, and +gleaming shoulders, and jewels, and brilliant uniforms, and found it +good--extremely good. + +Mr. Randolph smiled behind his mask at the striking incongruities on +every hand: Queen Elizabeth and Mr. Micawber; Cardinal Richelieu and a +Pierrette; a Clown dancing attendance on Marie Antoinette. The Czar of +Russia paid deep and devoted attention to a light-footed Geisha girl, +while the Mikado and Folly, a jingling thing in bells and abbreviated +skirts, romped together. + +The grotesque figure of the march was the Burglar. His revolver was +thrust carelessly into a pocket and the dark lantern hung at his belt. +He was pouring a stream of pleasing nonsense into the august ear of Lady +Macbeth, nimbly seeking at the same time to evade the pompous train of +the Dowager Empress. The grand march came to an end and the chattering +throng broke up into little groups. + +Cardinal Richelieu strolled along with a Pierrette on his arm. + +"Business good?" he inquired of the Burglar. + +"Expect it to be," was the reply. + +The Pierrette came and, standing on her tip-toes--silly, impractical +sort of toes they were--made a _moue_ at the Burglar. + +"Oooh!" she exclaimed. "You are perfectly horrid." + +"Thank you," retorted the Burglar. + +He bowed gravely, and the Cardinal, with his companion, passed on. The +Burglar stood gazing after them a moment, then glanced around the room, +curiously, two or three times. He might have been looking for someone. +Finally he wandered away aimlessly through the crowd. + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER II + + +Half an hour later the Burglar stood alone, thoughtfully watching the +dancers as they whirled by. A light hand fell on his arm--he started a +little--and in his ear sounded a voice soft with the tone of a caress. + +"Excellent, Dick, excellent!" + +The Burglar turned quickly to face a girl--a Girl of the Golden West, +with deliciously rounded chin, slightly parted rose-red lips, and +sparkling, eager eyes as blue as--as blue as--well, they were blue eyes. +An envious mask hid cheeks and brow, but above a sombrero was perched +arrogantly on crisp, ruddy-gold hair, flaunting a tricoloured ribbon. A +revolver swung at her hip--the wrong hip--and a Bowie knife, singularly +inoffensive in appearance, was thrust through her girdle. The Burglar +looked curiously a moment, then smiled. + +[Illustration: "An envious mask hid cheeks and brow"] + +"How did you know me?" he asked. + +"By your chin," she replied. "You can never hide yourself behind a mask +that doesn't cover that." + +The Burglar touched his chin with one gloved hand. + +"I forgot that," he remarked ruefully. + +"Hadn't you seen me?" + +"No." + +The Girl drew nearer and laid one hand lightly on his arm; her voice +dropped mysteriously. + +"Is everything ready?" she asked. + +"Oh, yes," he assured her quickly. His voice, too, was lowered +cautiously. + +"Did you come in the auto?" + +"Yes." + +"And the casket?" + +For an instant the Burglar hesitated. + +"The casket?" he repeated. + +"Certainly, the casket. Did you get it all right?" + +The Burglar looked at her with a new, businesslike expression on his +lips. The Girl returned his steady gaze for an instant, then her eyes +dropped. A faint colour glowed in her white chin. The Burglar suddenly +laughed admiringly. + +"Yes, I got it," he said. + +She took a deep breath quickly, and her white hands fluttered a little. + +"We will have to go in a few minutes, won't we?" she asked uneasily. + +"I suppose so," he replied. + +"Certainly before unmasking-time," she said, "because--because I think +there is someone here who knows, or suspects, that----" + +"Suspects what?" demanded the Burglar. + +"Sh-h-h-h!" warned the Girl, and she laid a finger on her lips. "Not so +loud. Someone might hear. Here are some people coming now that I'm +afraid of. They know me. Meet me in the conservatory in five minutes. I +don't want them to see me talking to you." + +She moved away quickly and the Burglar looked after her with admiration +and some impalpable quality other than that in his eyes. He was turning +away toward the conservatory when he ran into the arms of an oversized +man lumpily clad in the dress of a courtier. The lumpy individual stood +back and sized him up. + +"Say, young fellow, that's a swell rig you got there," he remarked. + +The Burglar glanced at him in polite astonishment--perhaps it was the +tone of the remark. + +"Glad you like it," he said coldly, and passed on. + +As he waited in the conservatory the amusement died out of his eyes and +his lips were drawn into a straight, sharp line. He had seen the lumpy +individual speak to another man, indicating generally the direction of +the conservatory as he did so. After a moment the Girl returned in deep +agitation. + +"We must go now--at once," she whispered hurriedly. "They suspect us. I +know it, I know it!" + +"I'm afraid so," said the Burglar grimly. "That's why that detective +spoke to me." + +"Detective?" gasped the Girl. + +"Yes, a detective disguised as a gentleman." + +"Oh, if they are watching us what shall we do?" + +The Burglar glanced out, and seeing the man to whom the lumpy individual +had spoken coming toward the conservatory, turned suddenly to the Girl. + +"Do you really want to go with me?" he asked. + +"Certainly," she replied eagerly. + +"You are making no mistake?" + +"No, Dick, no!" she said again. "But if we are caught----" + +"Do as I say and we won't be caught," declared the Burglar. His tone now +was sharp, commanding. "You go on alone toward the front door. Pass out +as if to get a breath of fresh air. I'll follow in a minute. Watch for +me. This detective is getting too curious for comfort. Outside we'll +take the first auto and run for it." + +He thoughtfully whirled the barrel of his revolver in his fingers as he +stared out into the ballroom. The Girl clung to him helplessly a moment; +her hand trembled on his arm. + +"I'm frightened," she confessed. "Oh, Dick, if----" + +"Don't lose your nerve," he commanded. "If you do we'll both be caught. +Go on now, and do as I say. I'll come--but I may come in a hurry. Watch +for me." + +For just a moment more the Girl clung to his arm. + +"Oh, Dick, you darling!" she whispered. Then, turning, she left him +there. + +From the door of the conservatory the Burglar watched her splendid, +lithe figure as she threaded her way through the crowd. Finally she +passed beyond his view and he sauntered carelessly toward the door. Once +he glanced back. The lumpy individual was following slowly. Then he saw +a liveried servant approach the host and whisper to him excitedly. + +"This is my cue to move," the Burglar told himself grimly. + +Still watching, he saw the servant point directly at him. The host, with +a sudden gesture, tore off his mask and the Burglar accelerated his +pace. + +"Stop that man!" called the host. + +For one brief instant there was the dead silence which follows general +astonishment--and the Burglar ran for the door. Several pairs of hands +reached out from the crowd toward him. + +"There he goes, there!" exclaimed the Burglar excitedly. "That man +ahead! I'll catch him!" + +The ruse opened the way and he went through. The Girl was waiting at the +foot of the steps. + +"They're coming!" he panted as he dragged her along. "Climb in that last +car on the end there!" + +Without a word the Girl ran to the auto and clambered into the front +seat. Several men dashed out of the house. Wonderingly her eyes followed +the vague figure of the Burglar as he sped along in the shadow of a +wall. He paused beneath a window, picked up something and raced for the +car. + +"Stop him!" came a cry. + +The Burglar flung his burden, which fell at the Girl's feet with a +clatter, and leaped. The auto swayed as he landed beside her. With a +quick twist of the wheel he headed out. + +"Hurry, Dick, they're coming!" gasped the Girl. + +The motor beneath them whirred and panted and the car began to move. + +"Halt, or I'll fire," came another cry. + +"Down!" commanded the Burglar. + +His hand fell on the Girl's shoulder heavily and he dragged her below +the level of the seat. Then, bending low over the wheel, he gave the car +half power. It leaped out into the road in the path of its own light, +just as there came a pistol-shot from behind, followed instantly by +another. + +The car sped on. + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER III + + +Stuyvesant Randolph, millionaire, owner of Seven Oaks and host of the +masked ball, was able to tell the police only what happened, and not the +manner of its happening. Briefly, this was that a thief, cunningly +disguised as a Burglar with dark lantern and revolver in hand, had +surreptitiously attended the masked ball by entering at the front door +and presenting an invitation card. And when Mr. Randolph got this far in +his story even _he_ couldn't keep his face straight. + +The sum total of everyone's knowledge, therefore, was this: + +Soon after the grand march a servant entered the smoking room and found +the Burglar there alone, standing beside an open window, looking out. +This smoking room connected, by a corridor, with a small dining room +where the Randolph gold plate was kept in ostentatious seclusion. As +the servant entered the smoking-room the Burglar turned away from the +window and went out into the ballroom. He did not carry a bundle; he did +not appear to be excited. + +Fifteen or twenty minutes later the servant discovered that eleven +plates of the gold service, valued roughly at $15,000, were missing. He +informed Mr. Randolph. The information, naturally enough, did not +elevate the host's enjoyment of the ball, and he did things hastily. + +Meanwhile--that is, between the time when the Burglar left the +smoking-room and the time when he passed out the front door--the Burglar +had talked earnestly with a masked Girl of the West. It was established +that, when she left him in the conservatory, she went out the front +door. There she was joined by the Burglar, and then came their +sensational flight in the automobile--a 40 horse-power car that moved +like the wind. The automobile in which the Burglar had gone to Seven +Oaks was left behind; thus far it had not been claimed. + +The identity of the Burglar and the Girl made the mystery. It was easy +to conjecture--that's what the police said--how the Burglar got away +with the gold plate. He went into the smoking-room, then into the +dining-room, dropped the gold plate into a sack and threw the sack out +of a window. It was beautifully simple. Just what the Girl had to do +with it wasn't very clear; perhaps a score or more articles of jewelry, +which had been reported missing by guests, engaged her attention. + +It was also easy to see how the Burglar and the Girl had been able to +shake off pursuit by the police in two other automobiles. The car they +had chosen was admittedly the fastest of the scores there, the night was +pitch-dark, and, besides, a Burglar like that was liable to do anything. +Two shots had been fired at him by the lumpy courtier, who was really +Detective Cunningham, but they had only spurred him on. + +These things were easy to understand. But the identity of the pair was a +different and more difficult proposition, and there remained the task of +yanking them out of obscurity. This fell to the lot of Detective +Mallory, who represented the Supreme Police Intelligence of the +Metropolitan District, happily combining a No. 11 shoe and a No. 6 hat. +He was a cautious, suspicious, far-seeing man--as police detectives go. +For instance, it was he who explained the method of the theft with a +lucidity that was astounding. + +[Illustration] + +Detective Mallory and two or three of his satellites heard Mr. +Randolph's story, then the statements of his two men who had attended +the ball in costume, and the statements of the servants. After all this +Mr. Mallory chewed his cigar and thought violently for several minutes. +Mr. Randolph looked on expectantly; he didn't want to miss anything. + +"As I understand it, Mr. Randolph," said the Supreme Police Intelligence +at last, "each invitation-card presented at the door by your guests bore +the name of the person to whom it was issued?" + +"Yes," replied Mr. Randolph. + +"Ah!" exclaimed the detective shrewdly. "Then we have a clue." + +"Where are those cards, Curtis?" asked Mr. Randolph of the servant who +had received them at the door. + +"I didn't know they were of further value, sir, and they were thrown +away--into the furnace." + +Mr. Mallory was crestfallen. + +"Did you notice if the card presented at the door by the Burglar on the +evening of the masked ball at Seven Oaks bore a name?" he asked. He +liked to be explicit like that. + +"Yes, sir. I noticed it particularly because the gentleman was dressed +so queerly." + +"Do you remember the name?" + +"No, sir." + +"Would you remember it if you saw it or heard it again?" + +The servant looked at Mr. Randolph helplessly. + +"I don't think I would, sir," he answered. + +"And the Girl? Did you notice the card she gave you?" + +"I don't remember her at all, sir. Many of the ladies wore wraps when +they came in, and her costume would not have been noticeable if she had +on a wrap." + +The Supreme Intelligence was thoughtful for another few minutes. At last +he turned to Mr. Randolph again. + +"You are certain there was only _one_ man at that ball dressed as a +Burglar?" he asked. + +"Yes, thank Heaven," replied Mr. Randolph fervently. "If there'd been +another one they might have taken the piano." + +The Supreme Intelligence frowned. + +"And this girl was dressed like a Western girl?" he asked. + +"Yes. A sort of Spirit-of-the-West costume." + +"And no other woman there wore such a dress?" + +"No," responded Mr. Randolph. + +"No," echoed the two detectives. + +"Now, Mr. Randolph, how many invitations were issued for the ball?" + +"Three or four hundred. It's a big house," Mr. Randolph apologised, "and +we tried to do the thing properly." + +"How many persons do you suppose actually attended the ball?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Three hundred, perhaps." + +Detective Mallory thought again. + +"It's unquestionably the work of two bold and clever professional +crooks," he said at last judicially, and his satellites hung on his +words eagerly. "It has every ear-mark of it. They perhaps planned the +thing weeks before, and forged invitation-cards, or perhaps stole +them--perhaps stole them." + +He turned suddenly and pointed an accusing finger at the servant, +Curtis. + +"Did you notice the handwriting on the card the Burglar gave you?" he +demanded. + +"No, sir. Not particularly." + +"I mean, do you recall if it was different in any way from the +handwriting on the other cards?" insisted the Supreme Intelligence. + +"I don't think it was, sir." + +"If it had been would you have noticed it?" + +"I might have, sir." + +"Were the names written on all the invitation-cards by the same hand, +Mr. Randolph?" + +"Yes: my wife's secretary." + +Detective Mallory arose and paced back and forth across the room with +wrinkles in his brow. + +"Ah!" he said at last, "then we know the cards were not forged, but +stolen from someone to whom they had been sent. We know this much, +therefore----" he paused a moment. + +"Therefore all that must be done," Mr. Randolph finished the sentence, +"is to find from whom the card or cards were stolen, who presented them +at my door, and who got away with the plate." + +The Supreme Intelligence glared at him aggressively. Mr. Randolph's face +was perfectly serious. It was his gold plate, you know. + +"Yes, that's it," Detective Mallory assented. "Now we'll get after this +thing right. Downey, you get that automobile the Burglar left at Seven +Oaks and find its owner; also find the car the Burglar and the Girl +escaped in. Cunningham, you go to Seven Oaks and look over the premises. +See particularly if the Girl left a wrap--she didn't wear one away from +there--and follow that up. Blanton, you take a list of invited guests +that Mr. Randolph will give you, check off those persons who are known +to have been at the ball, and find out all about those who were not, +and--follow that up." + +"That'll take weeks!" complained Blanton. + +The Supreme Intelligence turned on him fiercely. + +"Well?" he demanded. He continued to stare for a moment, and Blanton +wrinkled up in the baleful glow of his superior's scorn. "And," +Detective Mallory added magnanimously, "I will do the rest." + +Thus the campaign was planned against the Burglar and the Girl. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Hutchinson Hatch was a newspaper reporter, a long, lean, hungry looking +young man with an insatiable appetite for facts. This last was, perhaps, +an astonishing trait in a reporter; and Hatch was positively finicky on +the point. That's why his City Editor believed in him. If Hatch had come +in and told his City Editor that he had seen a blue elephant with pink +side-whiskers his City Editor would have _known_ that that elephant was +blue--mentally, morally, physically, spiritually and everlastingly--not +any washed-out green or purple, but blue. + +Hatch was remarkable in other ways, too. For instance, he believed in +the use of a little human intelligence in his profession. As a matter of +fact, on several occasions he had demonstrated that it was really an +excellent thing--human intelligence. His mind was well poised, his +methods thorough, his style direct. + +Along with dozens of others Hatch was at work on the Randolph robbery, +and knew what the others knew--no more. He had studied the case so +closely that he was beginning to believe, strangely enough, that perhaps +the police were right in their theory as to the identity of the Burglar +and the Girl--that is, that they were professional crooks. He could do a +thing like that sometimes--bring his mind around to admit the +possibility of somebody else being right. + +It was on Saturday afternoon--two days after the Randolph affair--that +Hatch was sitting in Detective Mallory's private office at Police +Headquarters laboriously extracting from the Supreme Intelligence the +precise things he had not found out about the robbery. The +telephone-bell rang. Hatch got one end of the conversation--he couldn't +help it. It was something like this: + +"Hello!... Yes, Detective Mallory.... Missing?... What's her name?... +What?... Oh, Dorothy!... Yes?... Merritt?... Oh, Merryman!... Well, what +the deuce is it then?... _SPELL IT!_... M-e-r-e-d-i-t-h. Why didn't you +say that at first?... How long has she been gone?... Huh?... Thursday +evening?... What does she look like?... Auburn hair. Red, you mean?... +Oh, ruddy! I'd like to know what's the difference." + +The detective had drawn up a pad of paper and was jotting down what +Hatch imagined to be the description of a missing girl. Then: + +"Who is this talking?" asked the detective. + +There was a little pause as he got the answer, and, having the answer, +he whistled his astonishment, after which he glanced around quickly at +the reporter, who was staring dreamily out a window. + +"No," said the Supreme Intelligence over the 'phone. "It wouldn't be +wise to make it public. It isn't necessary at all. I understand. I'll +order a search immediately. No. The newspapers will get nothing of it. +Good-by." + +"A story?" inquired Hatch carelessly as the detective hung up the +receiver. + +"Doesn't amount to anything," was the reply. + +"Yes, that's obvious," remarked the reporter drily. + +"Well, whatever it is, it is not going to be made public," retorted the +Supreme Intelligence sharply. He never did like Hatch, anyway. "It's one +of those things that don't do any good in the newspapers, so I'll not +let this one get there." + +Hatch yawned to show that he had no further interest in the matter, and +went out. But there was the germ of an idea in his head which would have +startled Detective Mallory, and he paced up and down outside to develop +it. A girl missing! A red-headed girl missing! A red-headed girl missing +since Thursday! Thursday was the night of the Randolph masked ball. The +missing Girl of the West was red-headed! Mallory had seemed astonished +when he learned the name of the person who reported this last case! +Therefore the person who reported it was high up--perhaps! Certainly +high enough up to ask and receive the courtesy of police +suppression--and the missing girl's name was Dorothy Meredith! + +Hatch stood still for a long time on the curb and figured it out. +Suddenly he rushed off to a telephone and called up Stuyvesant Randolph +at Seven Oaks. He asked the first question with trepidation: + +"Mr. Randolph, can you give me the address of Miss Dorothy Meredith?" + +"Miss Meredith?" came the answer. "Let's see. I think she is stopping +with the Morgan Greytons, at their suburban place." + +The reporter gulped down a shout. "Worked, by thunder!" he exclaimed to +himself. Then, in a deadly, forced calm: + +"She attended the masked ball Thursday evening, didn't she?" + +"Well, she was invited." + +"You didn't see her there?" + +"No. Who _is_ this?" + +Then Hatch hung up the receiver. He was nearly choking with excitement, +for, in addition to all those virtues which have been enumerated, he +possessed, too, the quality of enthusiasm. It was no part of his purpose +to tell anybody anything. Mallory didn't know, he was confident, +anything of the girl having been a possible guest at the ball. And what +Mallory didn't know now wouldn't be found out, all of which was a sad +reflection upon the detective. + +In this frame of mind Hatch started for the suburban place of the +Greytons. He found the house without difficulty. Morgan Greyton was an +aged gentleman of wealth and exclusive ideas--and wasn't in. Hatch +handed a card bearing only his name, to a maid, and after a few minutes +Mrs. Greyton appeared. She was a motherly, sweet-faced old lady of +seventy, with that grave, exquisite courtesy which makes mere man feel +ashamed of himself. Hatch had that feeling when he looked at her and +thought of what he was going to ask. + +"I came up direct from Police Headquarters," he explained +diplomatically, "to learn any details you may be able to give us as to +the disappearance of Miss Meredith." + +"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Greyton. "My husband said he was going to ask +the police to look into the matter. It is most mysterious--most +mysterious! We can't imagine where Dollie is, unless she has eloped. Do +you know that idea keeps coming to me and won't go away?" + +She spoke as if it were a naughty child. + +"If you'll tell me something about Miss Meredith--who she is and all +that?" Hatch suggested. + +"Oh, yes, to be sure," exclaimed Mrs. Greyton. "Dollie is a distant +cousin of my husband's sister's husband," she explained precisely. "She +lives in Baltimore, but is visiting us. She has been here for several +weeks. She's a dear, sweet girl, but I'm afraid--afraid she has eloped." + +The aged voice quivered a little, and Hatch was more ashamed of himself +than ever. + +"Some time ago she met a man named Herbert--Richard Herbert, I think, +and----" + +"Dick Herbert?" the reporter exclaimed suddenly. + +"Do you know the young gentleman?" inquired the old lady eagerly. + +"Yes, it just happens that we were classmates in Harvard," said the +reporter. + +"And is he a nice young man?" + +"A good, clean-cut, straightforward, decent man," replied Hatch. He +could speak with a certain enthusiasm about Dick Herbert. "Go on, +please," he urged. + +"Well, for some reason I don't know, Dollie's father objects to Mr. +Herbert's attentions to her--as a matter of fact, Mr. Meredith has +absolutely prohibited them--but she's a young, headstrong girl, and I +fear that, although she had outwardly yielded to her father's wishes, +she had clandestinely kept up a correspondence with Mr. Herbert. Last +Thursday evening she went out unattended and since then we have not +heard from her--not a word. We can only surmise--my husband and I--that +they have eloped. I know her father and mother will be heart-broken, but +I have always noticed that if a girl sets her heart on a man, she will +get him. And perhaps it's just as well that she _has_ eloped now since +you assure me he is a nice young man." + +Hatch was choking back a question that rose in his throat. He hated to +ask it, because he felt this dear, garrulous old woman would have hated +him for it, if she could have known its purpose. But at last it came. + +"Do you happen to know," he asked, "if Miss Meredith attended the +Randolph ball at Seven Oaks on Thursday evening?" + +"I dare say she received an invitation," was the reply. "She receives +many invitations, but I don't think she went there. It was a costume +affair, I suppose?" + +The reporter nodded. + +"Well, I hardly believe she went there then," Mrs. Greyton replied. "She +has had no costume of any sort made. No, I am positive she has eloped +with Mr. Herbert, but I should like to hear from her to satisfy myself +and explain to her parents. We did not permit Mr. Herbert to come here, +and it will be very hard to explain." + +Hatch heard the slight rustle of a skirt in the hall and glanced toward +the door. No one appeared, and he turned back to Mrs. Greyton. + +"I don't suppose it possible that Miss Meredith has returned to +Baltimore?" he asked. + +"Oh, no!" was the positive reply. "Her father there telegraphed to her +to-day--I opened it--saying he would be here, probably to-night, and +I--I haven't the heart to tell him the truth when he arrives. Somehow, I +have been hoping that we would hear and--and----" + +Then Hatch took his shame in his hand and excused himself. The maid +attended him to the door. + +"How much is it worth to you to know if Miss Meredith went to the masked +ball?" asked the maid cautiously. + +"Eavesdropping, eh?" asked Hatch in disgust. + +The maid shrugged her shoulders. + +"How much is it worth?" she repeated. + +Hatch extended his hand. She took a ten-dollar bill which lay there and +secreted it in some remote recess of her being. + +"Miss Meredith did go to the ball," she said. "She went there to meet +Mr. Herbert. They had arranged to elope from there and she had made all +her plans. I was in her confidence and assisted her." + +"What did she wear?" asked Hatch eagerly. + +"Her costume was that of a Western Girl," the maid responded. "She wore +a sombrero, and carried a Bowie knife and revolver." + +Hatch nearly swallowed his palate. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Hatch started back to the city with his brain full of seven-column +heads. He thoughtfully lighted a cigar just before he stepped on the +car. + +"No smoking," said the conductor. + +The reporter stared at him with dull eyes and then went in and sat down +with the cigar in his mouth. + +"No smoking, I told you," bawled the conductor. + +"Certainly not," exclaimed Hatch indignantly. He turned and glared at +the only other occupant of the car, a little girl. She wasn't smoking. +Then he looked at the conductor and awoke suddenly. + +"Miss Meredith is the girl," Hatch was thinking. "Mallory doesn't even +dream it and never will. He won't send a man out there to do what I did. +The Greytons are anxious to keep it quiet, and they won't say anything +to anybody else until they know what really happened. I've got it +bottled up, and don't know how to pull the cork. Now, the question is: +What possible connection can there be between Dorothy Meredith and the +Burglar? Was Dick Herbert the Burglar? Why, of course _not_! +Then--what?" + +Pondering all these things deeply, Hatch left the car and ran up to see +Dick Herbert. He was too self-absorbed to notice that the blinds of the +house were drawn. He rang, and after a long time a man-servant answered +the bell. + +"Mr. Herbert here?" Hatch asked. + +"Yes, sir, he's here," replied the servant, "but I don't know if he can +see you. He is not very well, sir." + +"Not very well?" Hatch repeated. + +"No, it's not that he's sick, sir. He was hurt and----" + +"Who is it, Blair?" came Herbert's voice from the top of the stair. + +"Mr. Hatch, sir." + +"Come up, Hatch!" Dick called cordially. "Glad to see you. I'm so +lonesome here I don't know what to do with myself." + +The reporter ran up the steps and into Dick's room. + +"Not that one," Dick smiled as Hatch reached for his right hand. "It's +out of business. Try this one----" And he offered his left. + +"What's the matter?" Hatch inquired. + +"Little hurt, that's all," said Dick. "Sit down. I got it knocked out +the other night and I've been here in this big house alone with Blair +ever since. The doctor told me not to venture out yet. It has been +lonesome, too. All the folks are away, up in Nova Scotia, and took the +other servants along. How are you, anyhow?" + +Hatch sat down and stared at Dick thoughtfully. Herbert was a +good-looking, forceful person of twenty-eight or thirty, and a corking +right-guard. Now he seemed a little washed out, and there was a sort of +pallor beneath the natural tan. He was a young man of family, unburdened +by superlative wealth, but possessing in his own person the primary +elements of success. He looked what Hatch had said of him: a "good, +clean-cut, straightforward, decent man." + +"I came up here to say something to you in my professional capacity," +the reporter began at last; "and frankly, I don't know how to say it." + +Dick straightened up in his chair with a startled expression on his +face. He didn't speak, but there was something in his eyes which +interested Hatch immensely. + +"Have you been reading the papers?" the reporter asked--"that is, during +the last couple of days?" + +"Yes." + +"Of course, then, you've seen the stories about the Randolph robbery?" + +Dick smiled a little. + +"Yes," he said. "Clever, wasn't it?" + +"It was," Hatch responded enthusiastically. "It was." He was silent for +a moment as he accepted and lighted a cigarette. "It doesn't happen," he +went on, "that, by any possible chance, you know anything about it, does +it?" + +"Not beyond what I saw in the papers. Why?" + +"I'll be frank and ask you some questions, Dick," Hatch resumed in a +tone which betrayed his discomfort. "Remember I am here in my official +capacity--that is, not as a friend of yours, but as a reporter. You need +not answer the questions if you don't want to." + +Dick arose with a little agitation in his manner and went over and stood +beside the window. + +"What is it all about?" he demanded. "What are the questions?" + +"Do you know where Miss Dorothy Meredith is?" + +Dick turned suddenly and glared at him with a certain lowering of his +eyebrows which Hatch knew from the football days. + +"What about her?" he asked. + +"Where is she?" Hatch insisted. + +"At home, so far as I know. Why?" + +"She is not there," the reporter informed him, "and the Greytons believe +that you eloped with her." + +"Eloped with her?" Dick repeated. "She is not at home?" + +"No. She's been missing since Thursday evening--the evening of the +Randolph affair. Mr. Greyton has asked the police to look for her, and +they are doing so now, but quietly. It is not known to the +newspapers--that is, to other newspapers. Your name has not been +mentioned to the police. Now, isn't it a fact that you did intend to +elope with her on Thursday evening?" + +Dick strode feverishly across the room several times, then stopped in +front of Hatch's chair. + +"This isn't any silly joke?" he asked fiercely. + +"Isn't it a fact that you did intend to elope with her on Thursday +evening?" the reporter went on steadily. + +"I won't answer that question." + +"Did you get an invitation to the Randolph ball?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you go?" + +Dick was staring straight down into his eyes. + +"I won't answer that, either," he said after a pause. + +"Where were you on the evening of the masked ball?" + +"Nor will I answer that." + +When the newspaper instinct is fully aroused a reporter has no friends. +Hatch had forgotten that he ever knew Dick Herbert. To him the young man +was now merely a thing from which he might wring certain information for +the benefit of the palpitating public. + +"Did the injury to your arm," he went on after the approved manner of +attorney for the prosecution, "prevent you going to the ball?" + +"I won't answer that." + +"What is the nature of the injury?" + +"Now, see here, Hatch," Dick burst out, and there was a dangerous +undertone in his manner, "I shall not answer any more +questions--particularly that last one--unless I know what this is all +about. Several things happened on the evening of the masked ball that I +can't go over with you or anyone else, but as for me having any personal +knowledge of events at the masked ball--well, you and I are not talking +of the same thing at all." + +He paused, started to say something else, then changed his mind and was +silent. + +"Was it a pistol shot?" Hatch went on calmly. + +Dick's lips were compressed to a thin line as he looked at the reporter, +and he controlled himself only by an effort. + +"Where did you get that idea?" he demanded. + +Hatch would have hesitated a long time before he told him where he got +that idea; but vaguely it had some connection with the fact that at +least two shots were fired at the Burglar and the Girl when they raced +away from Seven Oaks. + +While the reporter was rummaging through his mind for an answer to the +question there came a rap at the door and Blair appeared with a card. He +handed it to Dick, who glanced at it, looked a little surprised, then +nodded. Blair disappeared. After a moment there were footsteps on the +stairs and Stuyvesant Randolph entered. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Dick arose and offered his left hand to Mr. Randolph, who calmly ignored +it, turning his gaze instead upon the reporter. + +"I had hoped to find you alone," he said frostily. + +Hatch made as if to rise. + +"Sit still, Hatch," Dick commanded. "Mr. Hatch is a friend of mine, Mr. +Randolph. I don't know what you want to say, but whatever it is, you may +say it freely before him." + +Hatch knew that humour in Dick. It always preceded the psychological +moment when he wanted to climb down someone's throat and open an +umbrella. The tone was calm, the words clearly enunciated, and the face +was white--whiter than it had been before. + +"I shouldn't like to----" Mr. Randolph began. + +"You may say what you want to before Mr. Hatch, or not at all, as you +please," Dick went on evenly. + +Mr. Randolph cleared his throat twice and waved his hands with an +expression of resignation. + +"Very well," he replied. "I have come to request the return of my gold +plate." + +Hatch leaned forward in his chair, gripping its arms fiercely. This was +a question bearing broadly on a subject that he wanted to mention, but +he didn't know how. Mr. Randolph apparently found it easy enough. + +"What gold plate?" asked Dick steadily. + +"The eleven pieces that you, in the garb of a Burglar, took from my +house last Thursday evening," said Mr. Randolph. He was quite calm. + +Dick took a sudden step forward, then straightened up with flushed face. +His left hand closed with a snap and the nails bit into the flesh; the +fingers of the helpless right hand worked nervously. In a minute now +Hatch could see him climbing all over Mr. Randolph. + +But again Dick gained control of himself. It was a sort of recognition +of the fact that Mr. Randolph was fifty years old; Hatch knew it; Mr. +Randolph's knowledge on the subject didn't appear. Suddenly Dick +laughed. + +"Sit down, Mr. Randolph, and tell me about it," he suggested. + +"It isn't necessary to go into details," continued Mr. Randolph, still +standing. "I had not wanted to go this far in the presence of a third +person, but you forced me to do it. Now, will you or will you not return +the plate?" + +"Would you mind telling me just what makes you think I got it?" Dick +insisted. + +"It is as simple as it is conclusive," said Mr. Randolph. "You received +an invitation to the masked ball. You went there in your Burglar garb +and handed your invitation-card to my servant. He noticed you +particularly and read your name on the card. He remembered that name +perfectly. I was compelled to tell the story as I knew it to Detective +Mallory. I did not mention your name; my servant remembered it, had +given it to me in fact, but I forbade him to repeat it to the police. He +told them something about having burned the invitation-cards." + +"Oh, wouldn't that please Mallory?" Hatch thought. + +"I have not even intimated to the police that I have the least idea of +your identity," Mr. Randolph went on, still standing. "I had believed +that it was some prank of yours and that the plate would be returned in +due time. Certainly I could not account for you taking it in any other +circumstances. My reticence, it is needless to say, was in consideration +of your name and family. But now I want the plate. If it was a prank to +carry out the rôle of the Burglar, it is time for it to end. If the fact +that the matter is now in the hands of the police has frightened you +into the seeming necessity of keeping the plate for the present to +protect yourself, you may dismiss that. When the plate is returned to me +I shall see that the police drop the matter." + +Dick had listened with absorbed interest. Hatch looked at him from time +to time and saw only attention--not anger. + +"And the Girl?" asked Dick at last. "Does it happen that you have as +cleverly traced her?" + +"No," Mr. Randolph replied frankly. "I haven't the faintest idea who she +is. I suppose no one knows that but you. I have no interest further than +to recover the plate. I may say that I called here yesterday, Friday, +and asked to see you, but was informed that you had been hurt, so I went +away to give you opportunity to recover somewhat." + +"Thanks," said Dick drily. "Awfully considerate." + +There was a long silence. Hatch was listening with all the multitudinous +ears of a good reporter. + +"Now the plate," Mr. Randolph suggested again impatiently. "Do you deny +that you got it?" + +"I do," replied Dick firmly. + +"I was afraid you would, and, believe me, Mr. Herbert, such a course is +a mistaken one," said Mr. Randolph. "I will give you twenty-four hours +to change your mind. If, at the end of that time, you see fit to return +the plate, I shall drop the matter and use my influence to have the +police do so. If the plate is not returned I shall be compelled to turn +over all the facts to the police with your name." + +"Is that all?" Dick demanded suddenly. + +"Yes, I believe so." + +"Then get out of here before I----" Dick started forward, then dropped +back into a chair. + +Mr. Randolph drew on his gloves and went out, closing the door behind +him. + +For a long time Dick sat there, seemingly oblivious of Hatch's presence, +supporting his head with his left hand, while the right hung down +loosely beside him. Hatch was inclined to be sympathetic, for, strange +as it may seem, some reporters have even the human quality of +sympathy--although there are persons who will not believe it. + +"Is there anything I can do?" Hatch asked at last. "Anything you want to +say?" + +"Nothing," Dick responded wearily. "Nothing. You may think what you +like. There are, as I said, several things of which I cannot speak, +even if it comes to a question--a question of having to face the charge +of theft in open court. I simply _can't_ say anything." + +"But--but----" stammered the reporter. + +"Absolutely not another word," said Dick firmly. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Those satellites of the Supreme Police Intelligence of the Metropolitan +District who had been taking the Randolph mystery to pieces to see what +made it tick, lined up in front of Detective Mallory, in his private +office, at police headquarters, early Saturday evening. They did not +seem happy. The Supreme Intelligence placed his feet on the desk and +glowered; that was a part of the job. + +"Well, Downey?" he asked. + +"I went out to Seven Oaks and got the automobile the Burglar left, as +you instructed," reported Downey. "Then I started out to find its owner, +or someone who knew it. It didn't have a number on it, so the job wasn't +easy, but I found the owner all right, all right." + +Detective Mallory permitted himself to look interested. + +"He lives at Merton, four miles from Seven Oaks," Downey resumed. "His +name is Blake--William Blake. His auto was in the shed a hundred feet or +so from his house on Thursday evening at nine o'clock. It wasn't there +Friday morning." + +"Umph!" remarked Detective Mallory. + +"There is no question but what Blake told me the truth," Downey went on. +"To me it seems provable that the Burglar went out from the city to +Merton by train, stole the auto and ran it on to Seven Oaks. That's all +there seems to be to it. Blake proved ownership of the machine and I +left it with him." + +The Supreme Intelligence chewed his cigar frantically. + +"And the other machine?" he asked. + +"I have here a blood-stained cushion, the back of a seat from the car in +which the Burglar and the Girl escaped," continued Downey in a +walk-right-up-ladies-and-gentlemen sort of voice. "I found the car late +this afternoon at a garage in Pleasantville. We knew, of course, that it +belonged to Nelson Sharp, a guest at the masked ball. According to the +manager of the garage the car was standing in front of his place this +morning when he arrived to open up. The number had been removed." + +[Illustration] + +Detective Mallory examined the cushion which Downey handed to him. +Several dark brown stains told the story--one of the occupants of the +car had been wounded. + +"Well, that's something," commented the Supreme Intelligence. "We know +now that when Cunningham fired at least one of the persons in the car +was hit, and we may make our search accordingly. The Burglar and the +Girl probably left the car where it was found during the preceding +night." + +"It seems so," said Downey. "I shouldn't think they would have dared to +keep it long. Autos of that size and power are too easily traced. I +asked Mr. Sharp to run down and identify the car and he did so. The +stains were new." + +The Supreme Intelligence digested that in silence while his satellites +studied his face, seeking some inkling of the convolutions of that +marvellous mind. + +"Very good, Downey," said Detective Mallory at last. "Now Cunningham?" + +"Nothing," said Cunningham in shame and sorrow. "Nothing." + +"Didn't you find anything at all about the premises?" + +"Nothing," repeated Cunningham. "The Girl left no wrap at Seven Oaks. +None of the servants remembers having seen her in the room where the +wraps were checked. I searched all around the place and found a dent in +the ground under the smoking-room window, where the gold plate had been +thrown, and there were what seemed to be footprints in the grass, but it +was all nothing." + +"We can't arrest a dent and footprints," said the Supreme Intelligence +cuttingly. + +The satellites laughed sadly. It was part of the deference they owed to +the Supreme Intelligence. + +"And you, Blanton?" asked Mr. Mallory. "What did you do with the list of +invited guests?" + +"I haven't got a good start yet," responded Blanton hopelessly. "There +are three hundred and sixty names on the list. I have been able to see +possibly thirty. It's worse than making a city directory. I won't be +through for a month. Randolph and his wife checked off a large number of +these whom they knew were there. The others I am looking up as rapidly +as I can." + +The detectives sat moodily thoughtful for uncounted minutes. Finally +Detective Mallory broke the silence. + +[Illustration: "'The stains were new'"] + +"There seems to be no question but that any clew that might have come +from either of the automobiles is disposed of unless it is the fact that +we now know one of the thieves was wounded. I readily see how the +theft could have been committed by a man as bold as this fellow. Now we +must concentrate all our efforts to running down the invited guests and +learning just where they were that evening. All of you will have to get +on this job and hustle it. We know that the Burglar _did_ present an +invitation-card with a name on it." + +The detectives went their respective ways and then Detective Mallory +deigned to receive representatives of the press, among them Hutchinson +Hatch. Hatch was worried. He knew a whole lot of things, but they didn't +do him any good. He felt that he could print nothing as it stood, yet he +would not tell the police, because that would give it to everyone else, +and he had a picture of how the Supreme Intelligence would tangle it if +he got hold of it. + +"Well, boys," said Detective Mallory smilingly, when the press filed in, +"there's nothing to say. Frankly, I will tell you that we have not been +able to learn anything--at least anything that can be given out. You +know, of course, about the finding of the two automobiles that figured +in the case, and the blood-stained cushion?" + +The press nodded collectively. + +"Well, that's all there is yet. My men are still at work, but I'm a +little afraid the gold plate will never be found. It has probably been +melted up. The cleverness of the thieves you can judge for yourself by +the manner in which they handled the automobiles." + +And yet Hatch was not surprised when, late that night, Police +Headquarters made known the latest sensation. This was a bulletin, based +on a telephone message from Stuyvesant Randolph to the effect that the +gold plate had been returned by express to Seven Oaks. This mystified +the police beyond description; but official mystification was as nothing +to Hatch's state of mind. He knew of the scene in Dick Herbert's room +and remembered Mr. Randolph's threat. + +"Then Dick _did_ have the plate," he told himself. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Whole flocks of detectives, reporters, and newspaper artists appeared at +Seven Oaks early next morning. It had been too late to press an +investigation the night before. The newspapers had only time +telephonically to confirm the return of the plate. Now the investigators +unanimously voiced one sentiment: "Show us!" + +Hatch arrived in the party headed by Detective Mallory, with Downey and +Cunningham trailing. Blanton was off somewhere with his little list, +presumably still at it. Mr. Randolph had not come down to breakfast when +the investigators arrived, but had given his servant permission to +exhibit the plate, the wrappings in which it had come, and the string +wherewith it had been tied. + +The plate arrived in a heavy paper-board box, covered twice over with a +plain piece of stiff brown paper, which had no markings save the +address and the "paid" stamp of the express company. Detective Mallory +devoted himself first to the address. It was: + + MR. STUYVESANT RANDOLPH, + "Seven Oaks," + via Merton. + +In the upper left-hand corner were scribbled the words: + + From John Smith, + State Street, + Watertown. + +Detectives Mallory, Downey, and Cunningham studied the handwriting on +the paper minutely. + +"It's a man's," said Detective Downey. + +"It's a woman's," said Detective Cunningham. + +"It's a child's," said Detective Mallory. + +"Whatever it is, it is disguised," said Hatch. + +He was inclined to agree with Detective Cunningham that it was a woman's +purposely altered, and in that event--Great Cćsar! There came that flock +of seven-column heads again! And he couldn't open the bottle! + +The simple story of the arrival of the gold plate at Seven Oaks was told +thrillingly by the servant. + +"It was eight o'clock last night," he said. "I was standing in the hall +here. Mr. and Mrs. Randolph were still at the dinner table. They dined +alone. Suddenly I heard the sound of waggon-wheels on the granolithic +road in front of the house. I listened intently. Yes, it was +waggon-wheels." + +The detectives exchanged significant glances. + +"I heard the waggon stop," the servant went on in an awed tone. "Still I +listened. Then came the sound of footsteps on the walk and then on the +steps. I walked slowly along the hall toward the front door. As I did so +the bell rang." + +"Yes, ting-a-ling-a-ling, we know. Go on," Hatch interrupted +impatiently. + +"I opened the door," the servant continued. "A man stood there with a +package. He was a burly fellow. 'Mr. Randolph live here?' he asked +gruffly. 'Yes,' I said. 'Here's a package for him,' said the man. 'Sign +here.' I took the package and signed a book he gave me, and--and----" + +"In other words," Hatch interrupted again, "an expressman brought the +package here, you signed for it, and he went away?" + +The servant stared at him haughtily. + +"Yes, that's it," he said coldly. + +A few minutes later Mr. Randolph in person appeared. He glanced at Hatch +with a little surprise in his manner, nodded curtly, then turned to the +detectives. + +He could not add to the information the servant had given. His plate had +been returned, pre-paid. The matter was at an end so far as he was +concerned. There seemed to be no need of further investigation. + +"How about the jewelry that was stolen from your other guests?" demanded +Detective Mallory. + +"Of course, there's that," said Mr. Randolph. "It had passed out of my +mind." + +"Instead of being at an end this case has just begun," the detective +declared emphatically. + +Mr. Randolph seemed to have no further interest in the matter. He +started out, then turned back at the door, and made a slight motion to +Hatch which the reporter readily understood. As a result Hatch and Mr. +Randolph were closeted together in a small room across the hall a few +minutes later. + +"May I ask your occupation, Mr. Hatch?" inquired Mr. Randolph. + +"I'm a reporter," was the reply. + +"A reporter?" Mr. Randolph seemed surprised. "Of course, when I saw you +in Mr. Herbert's rooms," he went on after a little pause, "I met you +only as his friend. You saw what happened there. Now, may I ask you what +you intend to publish about this affair?" + +Hatch considered the question a moment. There seemed to be no objection +to telling. + +"I can't publish anything until I know everything, or until the police +act," he confessed frankly. "I had been talking to Dick Herbert in a +general way about this case when you arrived yesterday. I knew several +things, or thought I did, that the police do not even suspect. But, of +course, I can print only just what the police know and say." + +"I'm glad of that--very glad of it," said Mr. Randolph. "It seems to +have been a freak of some sort on Mr. Herbert's part, and, candidly, I +can't understand it. Of course he returned the plate, as I knew he +would." + +"Do you really believe he is the man who came here as the Burglar?" +asked Hatch curiously. + +"I should not have done what you saw me do if I had not been absolutely +certain," Mr. Randolph explained. "One of the things, particularly, that +was called to my attention--I don't know that you know of it--is the +fact that the Burglar had a cleft in his chin. You know, of course, that +Mr. Herbert has such a cleft. Then there is the invitation-card with his +name. Everything together makes it conclusive." + +Mr. Randolph and the reporter shook hands. Three hours later the press +and police had uncovered the Watertown end of the mystery as to how the +express package had been sent. It was explained by the driver of an +express waggon there and absorbed by greedily listening ears. + +"The boss told me to call at No. 410 State Street and get a bundle," the +driver explained. "I think somebody telephoned to him to send the +waggon. I went up there yesterday morning. It's a small house, back a +couple of hundred feet from the street, and has a stone fence around it. +I opened the gate, went in, and rang the bell. + +"No one answered the first ring, and I rang again. Still nobody answered +and I tried the door. It was locked. I walked around the house, thinking +there might be somebody in the back, but it was all locked up. I figured +as how the folks that had telephoned for me wasn't in, and started out +to my waggon, intending to stop by later. + +"Just as I got to the gate, going out, I saw a package set down inside, +hidden from the street behind the stone fence, with a dollar bill on it. +I just naturally looked at it. It was the package directed to Mr. +Randolph. I reasoned as how the folks who 'phoned had to go out and left +the package, so I took it along. I made out a receipt to John Smith, the +name that was in the corner, and pinned it to a post, took the package +and the money and went along. That's all." + +"You don't know if the package was there when you went in?" he was +asked. + +"I dunno. I didn't look. I couldn't help but see it when I came out, so +I took it." + +Then the investigators sought out "the boss." + +"Did the person who 'phoned give you a name?" inquired Detective +Mallory. + +"No, I didn't ask for one." + +"Was it a man or a woman talking?" + +"A man," was the unhesitating reply. "He had a deep, heavy voice." + +The investigators trailed away, dismally despondent, toward No. 410 +State Street. It was unoccupied; inquiry showed that it had been +unoccupied for months. The Supreme Intelligence picked the lock and the +investigators walked in, craning their necks. They expected, at the +least, to find a thieves' rendezvous. There was nothing but dirt, and +dust, and grime. Then the investigators returned to the city. They had +found only that the gold plate had been returned, and they knew that +when they started. + +Hatch went home and sat down with his head in his hands to add up all he +didn't know about the affair. It was surprising how much there was of +it. + +"Dick Herbert either did or didn't go to the ball," he soliloquised. +"_Something_ happened to him that evening. He either did or didn't steal +the gold plate, and every circumstance indicates that he did--which, of +course, he didn't. Dorothy Meredith either was or was not at the ball. +The maid's statement shows that she was, yet no one there recognised +her--which indicates that she wasn't. She either did or didn't run away +with somebody in an automobile. Anyhow, something happened to _her_, +because she's missing. The gold plate is stolen, and the gold plate is +back. I know _that_, thank Heaven! And now, knowing more about this +affair than any other single individual, I don't know _anything_." + + + + +PART II + +THE GIRL AND THE PLATE + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Low-bent over the steering-wheel, the Burglar sent the automobile +scuttling breathlessly along the flat road away from Seven Oaks. At the +first shot he crouched down in the seat, dragging the Girl with him; at +the second, he winced a little and clenched his teeth tightly. The car's +headlights cut a dazzling pathway through the shadows, and trees flitted +by as a solid wall. The shouts of pursuers were left behind, and still +the Girl clung to his arm. + +"Don't do that," he commanded abruptly. "You'll make me smash into +something." + +"Why, Dick, they shot at us!" she protested indignantly. + +The Burglar glanced at her, and, when he turned his eyes to the smooth +road again, there was a flicker of a smile about the set lips. + +"Yes, I had some such impression myself," he acquiesced grimly. + +"Why, they might have killed us!" the Girl went on. + +"It is just barely possible that they had some such absurd idea when +they shot," replied the Burglar. "Guess you never got caught in a pickle +like this before?" + +"I certainly never did!" replied the Girl emphatically. + +The whir and grind of their car drowned other sounds--sounds from +behind--but from time to time the Burglar looked back, and from time to +time he let out a new notch in the speed-regulator. Already the pace was +terrific, and the Girl bounced up and down beside him at each trivial +irregularity in the road, while she clung frantically to the seat. + +"Is it necessary to go so awfully fast?" she gasped at last. + +The wind was beating on her face, her mask blew this way and that; the +beribboned sombrero clung frantically to a fast-failing strand of ruddy +hair. She clutched at the hat and saved it, but her hair tumbled down +about her shoulders, a mass of gold, and floated out behind. + +"Oh," she chattered, "I can't keep my hat on!" + +The Burglar took another quick look behind, then his foot went out +against the speed-regulator and the car fairly leaped with suddenly +increased impetus. The regulator was in the last notch now, and the car +was one that had raced at Ormonde Beach. + +"Oh, dear!" exclaimed the Girl again. "Can't you go a little slower?" + +"Look behind," directed the Burglar tersely. + +She glanced back and gave a little cry. Two giant eyes stared at her +from a few hundred yards away as another car swooped along in pursuit, +and behind this ominously glittering pair was still another. + +"They're chasing us, aren't they?" + +"They are," replied the Burglar grimly, "but if these tires hold, they +haven't got a chance. A breakdown would----" He didn't finish the +sentence. There was a sinister note in his voice, but the Girl was still +looking back and did not heed it. To her excited imagination it seemed +that the giant eyes behind were creeping up, and again she clutched the +Burglar's arm. + +"Don't do that, I say," he commanded again. + +"But, Dick, they mustn't catch us--they mustn't!" + +"They won't." + +"But if they should----" + +"They won't," he repeated. + +"It would be perfectly awful!" + +"Worse than that." + +For a time the Girl silently watched him bending over the wheel, and a +singular feeling of security came to her. Then the car swept around a +bend in the road, careening perilously, and the glaring eyes were lost. +She breathed more freely. + +"I never knew you handled an auto so well," she said admiringly. + +"I do lots of things people don't know I do," he replied. "Are those +lights still there?" + +"No, thank goodness!" + +The Burglar touched a lever with his left hand and the whir of the +machine became less pronounced. After a moment it began to slow down. +The Girl noticed it and looked at him with new apprehension. + +"Oh, we're stopping!" she exclaimed. + +"I know it." + +They ran on for a few hundred feet; then the Burglar set the brake and, +after a deal of jolting, the car stopped. He leaped out and ran around +behind. As the Girl watched him uneasily there came a sudden crash and +the auto trembled a little. + +"What is it?" she asked quickly. + +"I smashed that tail lamp," he answered. "They can see it, and it's too +easy for them to follow." + +He stamped on the shattered fragments in the road, then came around to +the side to climb in again, extending his left hand to the Girl. + +"Quick, give me your hand," he requested. + +She did so wonderingly and he pulled himself into the seat beside her +with a perceptible effort. The car shivered, then started on again, +slowly at first, but gathering speed each moment. The Girl was staring +at her companion curiously, anxiously. + +"Are you hurt?" she asked at last. + +He did not answer at the moment, not until the car had regained its +former speed and was hurtling headlong through the night. + +"My right arm's out of business," he explained briefly, then: "I got +that second bullet in the shoulder." + +"Oh, Dick, Dick," she exclaimed, "and you hadn't said anything about it! +You need assistance!" + +A sudden rush of sympathy caused her to lay her hands again on his left +arm. He shook them off roughly with something like anger in his manner. + +"Don't do that!" he commanded for the third time. "You'll make me smash +hell out of this car." + +Startled by the violence of his tone, she recoiled dumbly, and the car +swept on. As before, the Burglar looked back from time to time, but the +lights did not reappear. For a long time the Girl was silent and finally +he glanced at her. + +"I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I didn't mean to speak so sharply, +but--but it's true." + +"It's really of no consequence," she replied coldly. "I am sorry--very +sorry." + +"Thank you," he replied. + +"Perhaps it might be as well for you to stop the car and let me out," +she went on after a moment. + +The Burglar either didn't hear or wouldn't heed. The dim lights of a +small village rose up before them, then faded away again; a dog barked +lonesomely beside the road. The streaming lights of their car revealed a +tangle of crossroads just ahead, offering a definite method of shaking +off pursuit. Their car swerved widely, and the Burglar's attention was +centred on the road ahead. + +"Does your arm pain you?" asked the Girl at last timidly. + +"No," he replied shortly. "It's a sort of numbness. I'm afraid I'm +losing blood, though." + +"Hadn't we better go back to the village and see a doctor?" + +"Not _this_ evening," he responded promptly in a tone which she did not +understand. "I'll stop somewhere soon and bind it up." + +At last, when the village was well behind, the car came to a dark little +road which wandered off aimlessly through a wood, and the Burglar slowed +down to turn into it. Once in the shelter of the overhanging branches +they proceeded slowly for a hundred yards or more, finally coming to a +standstill. + +"We must do it here," he declared. + +He leaped from the car, stumbled and fell. In an instant the Girl was +beside him. The reflected light from the auto showed her dimly that he +was trying to rise, showed her the pallor of his face where the chin +below the mask was visible. + +"I'm afraid it's pretty bad," he said weakly. Then he fainted. + +The Girl, stooping, raised his head to her lap and pressed her lips to +his feverishly, time after time. + +"Dick, Dick!" she sobbed, and tears fell upon the Burglar's sinister +mask. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +When the Burglar awoke to consciousness he was as near heaven as any +mere man ever dares expect to be. He was comfortable--quite +comfortable--wrapped in a delicious, languorous lassitude which forbade +him opening his eyes to realisation. A woman's hand lay on his forehead, +caressingly, and dimly he knew that another hand cuddled cosily in one +of his own. He lay still, trying to remember, before he opened his eyes. +Someone beside him breathed softly, and he listened, as if to music. + +Gradually the need of action--just what action and to what purpose did +not occur to him--impressed itself on his mind. He raised the disengaged +hand to his face and touched the mask, which had been pushed back on his +forehead. Then he recalled the ball, the shot, the chase, the hiding in +the woods. He opened his eyes with a start. Utter darkness lay about +him--for a moment he was not certain whether it was the darkness of +blindness or of night. + +"Dick, are you awake?" asked the Girl softly. + +He knew the voice and was content. + +"Yes," he answered languidly. + +He closed his eyes again and some strange, subtle perfume seemed to +envelop him. He waited. Warm lips were pressed to his own, thrilling him +strangely, and the Girl rested a soft cheek against his. + +"We have been very foolish, Dick," she said, sweetly chiding, after a +moment. "It was all my fault for letting you expose yourself to danger, +but I didn't dream of such a thing as this happening. I shall never +forgive myself, because----" + +"But----" he began protestingly. + +"Not another word about it now," she hurried on. "We must go very soon. +How do you feel?" + +"I'm all right, or will be in a minute," he responded, and he made as if +to rise. "Where is the car?" + +"Right here. I extinguished the lights and managed to stop the engine +for fear those horrid people who were after us might notice." + +"Good girl!" + +"When you jumped out and fainted I jumped out, too. I'm afraid I was not +very clever, but I managed to bind your arm. I took my handkerchief and +pressed it against the wound after ripping your coat, then I bound it +there. It stopped the flow of blood, but, Dick, dear, you must have +medical attention just as soon as possible." + +The Burglar moved his shoulder a little and winced. + +"Just as soon as I did that," the Girl went on, "I made you comfortable +here on a cushion from the car." + +"Good girl!" he said again. + +"Then I sat down to wait until you got better. I had no stimulant or +anything, and I didn't dare to leave you, so--so I just waited," she +ended with a weary little sigh. + +"How long was I knocked out?" he queried. + +"I don't know; half an hour, perhaps." + +"The bag is all right, I suppose?" + +"The bag?" + +"The bag with the stuff--the one I threw in the car when we started?" + +"Oh, yes, I suppose so! Really, I hadn't thought of it." + +"Hadn't thought of it?" repeated the Burglar, and there was a trace of +astonishment in his voice. "By George, you're a wonder!" he added. + +He started to get on his feet, then dropped back weakly. + +"Say, girlie," he requested, "see if you can find the bag in the car +there and hand it out. Let's take a look." + +"Where is it?" + +"Somewhere in front. I felt it at my feet when I jumped out." + +There was a rustle of skirts in the darkness, and after a moment a faint +muffled clank as of one heavy metal striking dully against another. + +"Goodness!" exclaimed the Girl. "It's heavy enough. What's in it?" + +"What's in it?" repeated the Burglar, and he chuckled. "A fortune, +nearly. It's worth being punctured for. Let me see." + +In the darkness he took the bag from her hands and fumbled with it a +moment. She heard the metallic sound again and then several heavy +objects were poured out on the ground. + +"A good fourteen pounds of pure gold," commented the Burglar. "By +George, I haven't but one match, but we'll see what it's like." + +The match was struck, sputtered for a moment, then flamed up, and the +Girl, standing, looked down upon the Burglar on his knees beside a heap +of gold plate. She stared at the glittering mass as if fascinated, and +her eyes opened wide. + +"Why, Dick, what is that?" she asked. + +"It's Randolph's plate," responded the Burglar complacently. "I don't +know how much it's worth, but it must be several thousands, on dead +weight." + +"What are you doing with it?" + +"What am I doing with it?" repeated the Burglar. He was about to look up +when the match burned his finger and he dropped it. "That's a silly +question." + +"But how came it in your possession?" the Girl insisted. + +"I acquired it by the simple act of--of dropping it into a bag and +bringing it along. That and you in the same evening----" He stretched +out a hand toward her, but she was not there. He chuckled a little as he +turned and picked up eleven plates, one by one, and replaced them in the +bag. + +"Nine--ten--eleven," he counted. "What luck did _you_ have?" + +"Dick Herbert, explain to me, please, what you are doing with that gold +plate?" There was an imperative command in the voice. + +The Burglar paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. + +"Oh, I'm taking it to have it fixed!" he responded lightly. + +"Fixed? Taking it this way at this time of the night?" + +[Illustration: "'It must be several thousands, on dead weight'"] + +"Sure," and he laughed pleasantly. + +"You mean you--you--you _stole_ it?" The words came with an effort. + +"Well, I'd hardly call it that," remarked the Burglar. "That's a harsh +word. Still, it's in my possession; it wasn't given to me, and I didn't +buy it. You may draw your own conclusions." + +The bag lay beside him and his left hand caressed it idly, lovingly. For +a long time there was silence. + +"What luck did _you_ have?" he asked again. + +There was a startled gasp, a gurgle and accusing indignation in the +Girl's low, tense voice. + +"You--you _stole_ it!" + +"Well, if you prefer it that way--yes." + +The Burglar was staring steadily into the darkness toward that point +whence came the voice, but the night was so dense that not a trace of +the Girl was visible. He laughed again. + +"It seems to me it was lucky I decided to take it at just this time and +in these circumstances," he went on tauntingly--"lucky for you, I mean. +If I hadn't been there you would have been caught." + +Again came the startled gasp. + +"What's the matter?" demanded the Burglar sharply, after another +silence. "Why don't you say something?" + +He was still peering unseeingly into the darkness. The bag of gold plate +moved slightly under his hand. He opened his fingers to close them more +tightly. It was a mistake. The bag was drawn away; his hand +grasped--air. + +"Stop that game now!" he commanded angrily. "Where are you?" + +He struggled to his feet. His answer was the crackling of a twig to his +right. He started in that direction and brought up with a bump against +the automobile. He turned, still groping blindly, and embraced a tree +with undignified fervour. To his left he heard another slight noise and +ran that way. Again he struck an obstacle. Then he began to say things, +expressive things, burning things from the depths of an impassioned +soul. The treasure had gone--disappeared into the shadows. The Girl was +gone. He called, there was no answer. He drew his revolver fiercely, +then reconsidered and flung it down angrily. + +"And I thought _I_ had nerve!" he declared. It was a compliment. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Extravagantly brilliant the sun popped up out of the east--not an +unusual occurrence--and stared unblinkingly down upon a country road. +There were the usual twittering birds and dew-spangled trees and nodding +wild-flowers; also a dust that was shoe-top deep. The dawny air stirred +lazily and rustling leaves sent long, sinuous shadows scampering back +and forth. + +Looking upon it all without enthusiasm or poetic exaltation was a +Girl--a pretty Girl--a very pretty Girl. She sat on a stone beside the +yellow roadway, a picture of weariness. A rough burlap sack, laden +heavily, yet economically as to space, wallowed in the dust beside her. +Her hair was tawny gold, and rebellious strands drooped listlessly about +her face. A beribboned sombrero lay in her lap, supplementing a certain +air of dilapidated bravado, due in part to a short skirt, heavy gloves +and boots, a belt with a knife and revolver. + +A robin, perched impertinently on a stump across the road, examined her +at his leisure. She stared back at Signor Redbreast, and for this +recognition he warbled a little song. + +"I've a good mind to cry!" exclaimed the Girl suddenly. + +Shamed and startled, the robin flew away. A mistiness came into the +Girl's blue eyes and lingered there a moment, then her white teeth +closed tightly and the glimmer of outraged emotion passed. + +"Oh," she sighed again, "I'm so tired and hungry and I just know I'll +never get anywhere at all!" + +But despite the expressed conviction she arose and straightened up as if +to resume her journey, turning to stare down at the bag. It was an +unsightly symbol of blasted hopes, man's perfidy, crushed aspirations +and--Heaven only knows what besides. + +"I've a good mind to leave you right there," she remarked to the bag +spitefully. "Perhaps I might hide it." She considered the question. "No, +that wouldn't do. I must take it with me--and--and--Oh, Dick! Dick! +What in the world was the matter with you, anyway?" + +Then she sat down again and wept. The robin crept back to look and +modestly hid behind a leaf. From this coign of vantage he watched her as +she again arose and plodded off through the dust with the bag swinging +over one shoulder. At last--there is an at last to everything--a small +house appeared from behind a clump of trees. The Girl looked with +incredulous eyes. It was really a house. Really! A tiny curl of smoke +hovered over the chimney. + +"Well, thank goodness, I'm somewhere, anyhow," she declared with her +first show of enthusiasm. "I can get a cup of coffee or something." + +She covered the next fifty yards with a new spring in her leaden heels +and with a new and firmer grip on the precious bag. Then--she stopped. + +"Gracious!" and perplexed lines suddenly wrinkled her brow. "If I should +go in there with a pistol and a knife they'd think I was a +brigand--or--or a thief, and I suppose I am," she added as she stopped +and rested the bag on the ground. "At least I have stolen goods in my +possession. Now, what shall I say if they ask questions? What am I? +They wouldn't believe me if I told them really. Short skirt, boots and +gloves: I know! I'm a bicyclist. My wheel broke down, and----" + +Whereupon she gingerly removed the revolver from her belt and flung it +into the underbrush--not at all in the direction she had intended--and +the knife followed to keep it company. Having relieved herself of these +sinister things, she straightened her hat, pushed back the rebellious +hair, yanked at her skirt, and walked bravely up to the little house. + +An Angel lived there--an Angel in a dizzily beflowered wrapper and a +crabbed exterior. She listened to a rapidly constructed and wholly +inconsistent story of a bicycle accident, which ended with a plea for a +cup of coffee. Silently she proceeded to prepare it. After the pot was +bubbling cheerfully and eggs had been put on and biscuits thrust into a +stove to be warmed over, the Angel sat down at the table opposite the +Girl. + +"Book agent?" she asked. + +"Oh, no!" replied the Girl. + +"Sewing-machines?" + +"No." + +There was a pause as the Angel settled and poured a cup of coffee. + +"Make to order, I s'pose?" + +"No," the Girl replied uncertainly. + +"What _do_ you sell?" + +"Nothing, I--I----" She stopped. + +"What you got in the bag?" the Angel persisted. + +"Some--some--just some--stuff," stammered the Girl, and her face +suddenly flushed crimson. + +"What kind of stuff?" + +The Girl looked into the frankly inquisitive eyes and was overwhelmed by +a sense of her own helplessness. Tears started, and one pearly drop ran +down her perfect nose and splashed in the coffee. That was the last +straw. She leaned forward suddenly with her head on her arms and wept. + +"Please, please don't ask questions!" she pleaded. "I'm a poor, foolish, +helpless, misguided, disillusioned woman!" + +"Yes'm," said the Angel. She took up the eggs, then came over and put a +kindly arm about the Girl's shoulders. "There, there!" she said +soothingly. "Don't take on like that! Drink some coffee, and eat a bite, +and you'll feel better!" + +"I have had no sleep at all and no food since yesterday, and I've walked +miles and miles and miles," the Girl rushed on feverishly. "It's all +because--because----" She stopped suddenly. + +"Eat something," commanded the Angel. + +The Girl obeyed. The coffee was weak and muddy and delightful; the +biscuits were yellow and lumpy and delicious; the eggs were eggs. The +Angel sat opposite and watched the Girl as she ate. + +"Husband beat you?" she demanded suddenly. + +The Girl blushed and choked. + +"No," she hastened to say. "I have no husband." + +"Well, there ain't no serious trouble in this world till you marry a +man that beats you," said the Angel judicially. It was the final word. + +The Girl didn't answer, and, in view of the fact that she had sufficient +data at hand to argue the point, this repression required heroism. +Perhaps she will never get credit for it. She finished the breakfast in +silence and leaned back with some measure of returning content in her +soul. + +"In a hurry?" asked the Angel. + +"No, I have no place to go. What is the nearest village or town?" + +"Watertown, but you'd better stay and rest a while. You look all +tuckered out." + +"Oh, thank you so much," said the Girl gratefully. "But it would be so +much trouble for----" + +The Angel picked up the burlap bag, shook it inquiringly, then started +toward the short stairs leading up. + +"Please, please!" exclaimed the Girl suddenly. "I--I--let me have that, +please!" + +The Angel relinquished the bag without a word. The Girl took it, +tremblingly, then, suddenly dropping it, clasped the Angel in her arms +and placed upon her unresponsive lips a kiss for which a mere man would +have endangered his immortal soul. The Angel wiped her mouth with the +back of her hand and went on up the stairs with the Girl following. + +For a time the Girl lay, with wet eyes, on a clean little bed, thinking. +Humiliation, exhaustion, man's perfidy, disillusionment, and the +kindness of an utter stranger all occupied her until she fell asleep. +Then she was chased by a policeman with automobile lights for eyes, and +there was a parade of hard-boiled eggs and yellow, lumpy biscuits. + +When she awoke the room was quite dark. She sat up a little bewildered +at first; then she remembered. After a moment she heard the voice of the +Angel, below. It rippled on querulously; then she heard the gruff voice +of a man. + +"Diamond rings?" + +The Girl sat up in bed and listened intently. Involuntarily her hands +were clasped together. Her rings were still safe. The Angel's voice went +on for a moment again. + +"Something in a bag?" inquired the man. + +Again the Angel spoke. + +Terror seized upon the Girl; imagination ran riot, and she rose from the +bed, trembling. She groped about the dark room noiselessly. Every shadow +lent her new fears. Then from below came the sound of heavy footsteps. +She listened fearfully. They came on toward the stairs, then paused. A +match was struck and the step sounded on the stairs. + +After a moment there was a knock at the door, a pause, then another +knock. Finally the door was pushed open and a huge figure--the figure of +a man--appeared, sheltering a candle with one hand. He peered about the +room as if perplexed. + +"Ain't nobody up here," he called gruffly down the stairs. + +[Illustration] + +There was a sound of hurrying feet and the Angel entered, her face +distorted by the flickering candlelight. + +"For the land's sakes!" she exclaimed. + +"Went away without even saying thank you," grumbled the man. He crossed +the room and closed a window. "You ain't got no better sense than a +chicken," he told the Angel. "Take in anybody that comes." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +If Willie's little brother hadn't had a pain in his tummy this story +might have gone by other and devious ways to a different conclusion. But +fortunately he did have, so it happened that at precisely 8.47 o'clock +of a warm evening Willie was racing madly along a side street of +Watertown, drug-store-bound, when he came face to face with a Girl--a +pretty Girl--a very pretty Girl. She was carrying a bag that clanked a +little at each step. + +"Oh, little boy!" she called. + +"Hunh?" and Willie stopped so suddenly that he endangered his +equilibrium, although that isn't how he would have said it. + +"Nice little boy," said the Girl soothingly, and she patted his tousled +head while he gnawed a thumb in pained embarrassment. "I'm very tired. I +have been walking a great distance. Could you tell me, please, where a +lady, unattended, might get a night's lodging somewhere near here?" + +"Hunh?" gurgled Willie through the thumb. + +Wearily the Girl repeated it all and at its end Willie giggled. It was +the most exasperating incident of a long series of exasperating +incidents, and the Girl's grip on the bag tightened a little. Willie +never knew how nearly he came to being hammered to death with fourteen +pounds of solid gold. + +"Well?" inquired the Girl at last. + +"Dunno," said Willie. "Jimmy's got the stomach-ache," he added +irrelevantly. + +"Can't you think of a hotel or boarding-house near by?" the Girl +insisted. + +"Dunno," replied Willie. "I'm going to the drug store for a pair o' +gorrick." + +The Girl bit her lip, and that act probably saved Willie from the dire +consequences of his unconscious levity, for after a moment the Girl +laughed aloud. + +"Where is the drug store?" she asked. + +"'Round the corner. I'm going." + +"I'll go along, too, if you don't mind," the Girl said, and she turned +and walked beside him. Perhaps the drug clerk would be able to +illuminate the situation. + +"I swallyed a penny oncst," Willie confided suddenly. + +"Too bad!" commented the Girl. + +"Unh unnh," Willie denied emphatically. "'Cause when I cried, Paw gimme +a quarter." He was silent a moment, then: "If I'd 'a' swallyed that, I +reckin he'd gimme a dollar. Gee!" + +This is the optimism that makes the world go round. The philosophy took +possession of the Girl and cheered her. When she entered the drug store +she walked with a lighter step and there was a trace of a smile about +her pretty mouth. A clerk, the only attendant, came forward. + +"I want a pair o' gorrick," Willie announced. + +The Girl smiled, and the clerk, paying no attention to the boy, went +toward her. + +"Better attend to him first," she suggested. "It seems urgent." + +The clerk turned to Willie. + +"Paregoric?" he inquired. "How much?" + +"About a quart, I reckin," replied the boy. "Is that enough?" + +"Quite enough," commented the clerk. He disappeared behind the +prescription screen and returned after a moment with a small phial. The +boy took it, handed over a coin, and went out, whistling. The Girl +looked after him with a little longing in her eyes. + +"Now, madam?" inquired the clerk suavely. + +"I only want some information," she replied. "I was out on my +bicycle"--she gulped a little--"when it broke down, and I'll have to +remain here in town over night, I'm afraid. Can you direct me to a quiet +hotel or boarding-house where I might stay?" + +"Certainly," replied the clerk briskly. "The Stratford, just a block up +this street. Explain the circumstances, and it will be all right, I'm +sure." + +The Girl smiled at him again and cheerfully went her way. That small boy +had been a leaven to her drooping spirits. She found the Stratford +without difficulty and told the usual bicycle lie, with a natural growth +of detail and a burning sense of shame. She registered as Elizabeth +Carlton and was shown to a modest little room. + +Her first act was to hide the gold plate in the closet; her second was +to take it out and hide it under the bed. Then she sat down on a couch +to think. For an hour or more she considered the situation in all its +hideous details, planning her desolate future--women like to plan +desolate futures--then her eye chanced to fall upon an afternoon paper, +which, with glaring headlines, announced the theft of the Randolph gold +plate. She read it. It told, with startling detail, things that had and +had not happened in connection therewith. + +This comprehended in all its horror, she promptly arose and hid the bag +between the mattress and the springs. Soon after she extinguished the +light and retired with little shivers running up and down all over her. +She snuggled her head down under the cover. She didn't sleep much--she +was still thinking--but when she arose next morning her mind was made +up. + +First she placed the eleven gold plates in a heavy card-board box, then +she bound it securely with brown paper and twine and addressed it: +"Stuyvesant Randolph, Seven Oaks, via Merton." She had sent express +packages before and knew how to proceed, therefore when the necessity of +writing a name in the upper left-hand corner appeared--the sender--she +wrote in a bold, desperate hand: "John Smith, Watertown." + +When this was all done to her satisfaction, she tucked the package under +one arm, tried to look as if it weren't heavy, and sauntered downstairs +with outward self-possession and inward apprehension. She faced the +clerk cordially, while a singularly distracting smile curled her lips. + +"My bill, please?" she asked. + +"Two dollars, madam," he responded gallantly. + +[Illustration] + +"I don't happen to have any money with me," she explained charmingly. +"Of course, I had expected to go back on my wheel, but, since it is +broken, perhaps you would be willing to take this until I return to the +city and can mail a check?" + +She drew a diamond ring from an aristocratic finger and offered it to +the clerk. He blushed furiously, and she reproved him for it with a cold +stare. + +"It's quite irregular," he explained, "but, of course, in the +circumstances, it will be all right. It is not necessary for us to keep +the ring at all, if you will give us your city address." + +"I prefer that you keep it," she insisted firmly, "for, besides, I shall +have to ask you to let me have fare back to the city--a couple of +dollars? Of course it will be all right?" + +It was half an hour before the clerk fully awoke. He had given the Girl +two real dollars and held her ring clasped firmly in one hand. She was +gone. She might just as well have taken the hotel along with her so far +as any objection from that clerk would have been concerned. + +Once out of the hotel the Girl hurried on. + +"Thank goodness, that's over," she exclaimed. + +For several blocks she walked on. Finally her eye was attracted by a "To +Let" sign on a small house--it was No. 410 State Street. She walked in +through a gate cut in the solid wall of stone and strolled up to the +house. Here she wandered about for a time, incidentally tearing off the +"To Let" sign. Then she came down the path toward the street again. Just +inside the stone fence she left her express package, after scribbling +the name of the street on it with a pencil. A dollar bill lay on top. +She hurried out and along a block or more to a small grocery. + +"Will you please 'phone to the express company and have them send a +wagon to No. 410 State Street for a package?" she asked sweetly of a +heavy-voiced grocer. + +"Certainly, ma'am," he responded with alacrity. + +She paused until he had done as she requested, then dropped into a +restaurant for a cup of coffee. She lingered there for a long time, and +then went out to spend a greater part of the day wandering up and down +State Street. At last an express wagon drove up, the driver went in and +returned after a little while with the package. + +[Illustration] + +"And, thank goodness, that's off my hands!" sighed the Girl. "Now I'm +going home." + + * * * * * + +Late that evening, Saturday, Miss Dollie Meredith returned to the home +of the Greytons and was clasped to the motherly bosom of Mrs. Greyton, +where she wept unreservedly. + +[Illustration: "A dollar bill lay on top"] + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was late Sunday afternoon. Hutchinson Hatch did not run lightly up +the steps of the Greyton home and toss his cigar away as he rang the +bell. He did go up the steps, but it was reluctantly, dragging one foot +after the other, this being an indication rather of his mental condition +than of physical weariness. He did not throw away his cigar as he rang +the bell because he wasn't smoking--but he did ring the bell. The maid +whom he had seen on his previous visit opened the door. + +"Is Mrs. Greyton in?" he asked with a nod of recognition. + +"No, sir." + +"Mr. Greyton?" + +"No, sir." + +"Did Mr. Meredith arrive from Baltimore?" + +"Yes, sir. Last midnight." + +"Ah! Is _he_ in?" + +"No, sir." + +The reporter's disappointment showed clearly in his face. + +"I don't suppose you've heard anything further from Miss Meredith?" he +ventured hopelessly. + +"She's upstairs, sir." + +Anyone who has ever stepped on a tack knows just how Hatch felt. He +didn't stand on the order of being invited in--he went in. Being in, he +extracted a plain calling-card from his pocketbook with twitching +fingers and handed it to the waiting maid. + +"When did she return?" he asked. + +"Last night, about nine, sir." + +"Where has she been?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"Kindly hand her my card and explain to her that it is imperative that I +see her for a few minutes," the reporter went on. "Impress upon her the +absolute necessity of this. By the way, I suppose you know where I came +from, eh?" + +"Police headquarters, yes, sir." + +Hatch tried to look like a detective, but a gleam of intelligence in his +face almost betrayed him. + +"You might intimate as much to Miss Meredith," he instructed the maid +calmly. + +The maid disappeared. Hatch went in and sat down in the reception-room, +and said "Whew!" several times. + +"The gold plate returned to Randolph last night by express," he mused, +"and she returned also, last night. Now what does that mean?" + +After a minute or so the maid reappeared to state that Miss Meredith +would see him. Hatch received the message gravely and beckoned +mysteriously as he sought for a bill in his pocketbook. + +"Do you have any idea where Miss Meredith was?" + +"No, sir. She didn't even tell Mrs. Greyton or her father." + +"What was her appearance?" + +"She seemed very tired, sir, and hungry. She still wore the masked ball +costume." + +The bill changed hands and Hatch was left alone again. There was a long +wait, then a rustle of skirts, a light step, and Miss Dollie Meredith +entered. + +She was nervous, it is true, and pallid, but there was a suggestion of +defiance as well as determination on her pretty mouth. Hatch stared at +her in frank admiration for a moment, then, with an effort, proceeded to +business. + +"I presume, Miss Meredith," he said solemnly, "that the maid informed +you of my identity?" + +"Yes," replied Dollie weakly. "She said you were a detective." + +"Ah!" exclaimed the reporter meaningly, "then we understand each other. +Now, Miss Meredith, will you tell me, please, just where you have been?" + +"No." + +The answer was so prompt and so emphatic that Hatch was a little +disconcerted. He cleared his throat and started over again. + +"Will you inform me, then, in the interest of justice, where you were on +the evening of the Randolph ball?" An ominous threat lay behind the +words, Hatch hoped she believed. + +"I will not." + +"Why did you disappear?" + +"I will not tell you." + +[Illustration: "There was a suggestion of defiance as well as +determination on her pretty mouth"] + +Hatch paused to readjust himself. He was going at things backward. When +next he spoke his tone had lost the official tang--he talked like a +human being. + +"May I ask if you happen to know Richard Herbert?" + +The pallor of the girl's face was relieved by a delicious sweep of +colour. + +"I will not tell you," she answered. + +"And if I say that Mr. Herbert happens to be a friend of mine?" + +"Well, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" + +Two distracting blue eyes were staring him out of countenance; two +scarlet lips were drawn tightly together in reproof of a man who boasted +such a friendship; two cheeks flamed with indignation that he should +have mentioned the name. Hatch floundered for a moment, then cleared his +throat and took a fresh start. + +"Will you deny that you saw Richard Herbert on the evening of the masked +ball?" + +"I will not." + +"Will you admit that you saw him?" + +"I will not." + +"Do you know that he was wounded?" + +"Certainly." + +Now, Hatch had always held a vague theory that the easiest way to make a +secret known was to intrust it to a woman. At this point he revised his +draw, threw his hand in the pack, and asked for a new deal. + +"Miss Meredith," he said soothingly after a pause, "will you admit or +deny that you ever heard of the Randolph robbery?" + +"I will not," she began, then: "Certainly I know of it." + +"You know that a man and a woman are accused of and sought for the +theft?" + +"Yes, I know that." + +"You will admit that you know the man was in Burglar's garb, and that +the woman was dressed in a Western costume?" + +"The newspapers say that, yes," she replied sweetly. + +"You know, too, that Richard Herbert went to that ball in Burglar's garb +and that you went there dressed as a Western girl?" The reporter's tone +was strictly professional now. + +Dollie stared into the stern face of her interrogator and her courage +oozed away. The colour left her face and she wept violently. + +"I beg your pardon," Hatch expostulated. "I beg your pardon. I didn't +mean it just that way, but----" + +He stopped helplessly and stared at this wonderful woman with the red +hair. Of all things in the world tears were quite the most +disconcerting. + +[Illustration] + +"I beg your pardon," he repeated awkwardly. + +Dollie looked up with tear-stained, pleading eyes, then arose and placed +both her hands on Hatch's arm. It was a pitiful, helpless sort of a +gesture; Hatch shuddered with sheer delight. + +"I don't know how you found out about it," she said tremulously, "but, +if you've come to arrest me, I'm ready to go with you." + +"Arrest you?" gasped the reporter. + +"Certainly. I'll go and be locked up. That's what they do, isn't it?" +she questioned innocently. + +The reporter stared. + +"I wouldn't arrest you for a million dollars!" he stammered in dire +confusion. "It wasn't quite that. It was----" + +And five minutes later Hutchinson Hatch found himself wandering +aimlessly up and down the sidewalk. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Dick Herbert lay stretched lazily on a couch in his room with hands +pressed to his eyes. He had just read the Sunday newspapers announcing +the mysterious return of the Randolph plate, and naturally he had a +headache. Somewhere in a remote recess of his brain mental pyrotechnics +were at play; a sort of intellectual pinwheel spouted senseless ideas +and suggestions of senseless ideas. The late afternoon shaded off into +twilight, twilight into dusk, dusk into darkness, and still he lay +motionless. + +After a while, from below, he heard the tinkle of a bell and Blair +entered with light tread: + +"Beg pardon, sir, are you asleep?" + +"Who is it, Blair?" + +"Mr. Hatch, sir." + +"Let him come up." + +Dick arose, snapped on the electric lights, and stood blinkingly in the +sudden glare. When Hatch entered they faced each other silently for a +moment. There was that in the reporter's eyes that interested Dick +immeasurably; there was that in Dick's eyes that Hatch was trying vainly +to fathom. Dick relieved a certain vague tension by extending his left +hand. Hatch shook it cordially. + +"Well?" Dick inquired. + +Hatch dropped into a chair and twirled his hat. + +"Heard the news?" he asked. + +"The return of the gold plate, yes," and Dick passed a hand across his +fevered brow. "It makes me dizzy." + +"Heard anything from Miss Meredith?" + +"No. Why?" + +"She returned to the Greytons last night." + +"Returned to the----" and Dick started up suddenly. "Well, there's no +reason why she shouldn't have," he added. "Do you happen to know where +she was?" + +The reporter shook his head. + +"I don't know anything," he said wearily, "except----" he paused. + +Dick paced back and forth across the room several times with one hand +pressed to his forehead. Suddenly he turned on his visitor. + +"Except what?" he demanded. + +"Except that Miss Meredith, by action and word, has convinced me that +she either had a hand in the disappearance of the Randolph plate or else +knows who was the cause of its disappearance." + +Dick glared at him savagely. + +"You know she didn't take the plate?" he demanded. + +"Certainly," replied the reporter. "That's what makes it all the more +astonishing. I talked to her this afternoon, and when I finished she +seemed to think I had come to arrest her, and she wanted to go to jail. +I nearly fainted." + +Dick glared incredulously, then resumed his nervous pacing. Suddenly he +stopped. + +"Did she mention my name?" + +"I mentioned it. She wouldn't admit even that she knew you." + +There was a pause. + +"I don't blame her," Dick remarked enigmatically. "She must think me a +cad." + +Another pause. + +"Well, what about it all, anyhow?" Dick went on finally. "The plate has +been returned, therefore the matter is at an end." + +"Now look here, Dick," said Hatch. "I want to say something, and don't +go crazy, please, until I finish. I know an awful lot about this +affair--things the police never will know. I haven't printed anything +much for obvious reasons." + +Dick looked at him apprehensively. + +"Go on," he urged. + +"I could print things I know," the reporter resumed; "swear out a +warrant for you in connection with the gold plate affair and have you +arrested and convicted on your own statements, supplemented by those of +Miss Meredith. Yet, remember, please, neither your name nor hers has +been mentioned as yet." + +Dick took it calmly; he only stared. + +"Do you believe that I stole the plate?" he asked. + +"Certainly I do not," replied Hatch, "but I can prove that you _did_; +prove it to the satisfaction of any jury in the world, and no denial of +yours would have any effect." + +"Well?" asked Dick, after a moment. + +"Further, I can, on information in my possession, swear out a warrant +for Miss Meredith, prove she was in the automobile, and convict her as +your accomplice. Now that's a silly state of affairs, isn't it?" + +"But, man, you can't believe that she had anything to do with it! +She's--she's not that kind." + +"I could take oath that she didn't have anything to do with it, but all +the same I can prove that she did," replied Hatch. "Now what I am +getting at is this: if the police should happen to find out what I know +they would send you up--both of you." + +"Well, you are decent about it, old man, and I appreciate it," said Dick +warmly. "But what can we do?" + +"It behoves us--Miss Meredith and you and myself--to get the true facts +in the case all together before you get pinched," said the reporter +judicially. "Suppose now, just suppose, that we three get together and +tell each other the truth for a change, the whole truth, and see what +will happen?" + +"If I should tell you the truth," said Dick dispassionately, "it would +bring everlasting disgrace on Miss Meredith, and I'd be a beast for +doing it; if she told you the truth she would unquestionably send me to +prison for theft." + +"But here----" Hatch expostulated. + +"Just a minute!" Dick disappeared into another room, leaving the +reporter to chew on what he had, then returned in a little while, +dressed for the street. "Now, Hatch," he said, "I'm going to try to get +to Miss Meredith, but I don't believe she'll see me. If she will, I may +be able to explain several things that will clear up this affair in +_your_ mind, at any rate. If I don't see her---- By the way, did her +father arrive from Baltimore?" + +"Yes." + +"Good!" exclaimed Dick. "I'll see him, too--make a show-down of it, and +when it's all over I'll let you know what happened." + +[Illustration] + +Hatch went back to his shop and threatened to kick the office-boy into +the waste-basket. + +At just about that moment Mr. Meredith, in the Greyton home, was reading +a card on which appeared the name, "Mr. Richard Hamilton Herbert." +Having read it, he snorted his indignation and went into the +reception-room. Dick arose to greet him and offered a hand, which was +promptly declined. + +"I'd like to ask you, Mr. Meredith," Dick began with a certain steely +coldness in his manner, "just why you object to my attention to your +daughter, Dorothy?" + +"You know well enough!" raged the old man. + +"It is because of the trouble I had in Harvard with your son, Harry. +Well and good, but is that all? Is that to stand forever?" + +"You proved then that you were not a gentleman," declared the old man +savagely. "You're a puppy, sir." + +[Illustration: "Mr. Meredith ... was reading a card on which appeared +the name 'Mr. Richard Hamilton Herbert'"] + +"If you didn't happen to be the father of the girl I'm in love with I'd +poke you in the nose," Dick replied, almost cheerfully. "Where is your +son now? Is there no way I can place myself right in your eyes?" + +"No!" Mr. Meredith thundered. "An apology would only be a confession of +your dishonour!" + +Dick was nearly choking, but managed to keep his voice down. + +"Does your daughter know anything of that affair?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Where is your son?" + +"None of your business, sir!" + +"I don't suppose there's any doubt in your mind of my affection for your +daughter?" + +"I suppose you do admire her," snapped the old man. "You can't help +that, I suppose. No one can," he added naďvely. + +"And I suppose you know that she loves me, in spite of your objections?" +went on the young man. + +"Bah! Bah!" + +"And that you are breaking her heart by your mutton-headed objection to +me?" + +"You--you----" sputtered Mr. Meredith. + +Dick was still calm. + +"May I see Miss Meredith for a few minutes?" he went on. + +"She won't see you, sir," stormed the irate parent. "She told me last +night that she would never consent to see you again." + +"Will you give me your permission to see her here and now, if she will +consent?" Dick insisted steadily. + +"She won't see you, I say." + +"May I send a card to her?" + +"She won't see you, sir," repeated Mr. Meredith doggedly. + +Dick stepped out into the hall and beckoned to the maid. + +"Please take my card to Miss Meredith," he directed. + +The maid accepted the white square, with a little uplifting of her +brows, and went up the stairs. Miss Meredith received it languidly, read +it, then sat up indignantly. + +"Dick Herbert!" she exclaimed incredulously. "How dare he come here? +It's the most audacious thing I ever heard of! Certainly I will not see +him again in any circumstances." She arose and glared defiantly at the +demure maid. "Tell Mr. Herbert," she said emphatically, "tell him--that +I'll be right down." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Mr. Meredith had stamped out of the room angrily, and Dick Herbert was +alone when Dollie, in regal indignation, swept in. The general slant of +her ruddy head radiated defiance, and a most depressing chilliness lay +in her blue eyes. Her lips formed a scarlet line, and there was a +how-dare-you-sir tilt to nose and chin. Dick started up quickly at her +appearance. + +"Dollie!" he exclaimed eagerly. + +"Mr. Herbert," she responded coldly. She sat down primly on the extreme +edge of a chair which yawned to embrace her. "What is it, please?" + +Dick was a singularly audacious sort of person, but her manner froze him +into sudden austerity. He regarded her steadily for a moment. + +"I have come to explain why----" + +Miss Dollie Meredith sniffed. + +"I have come to explain," he went on, "why I did not meet you at the +Randolph masked ball, as we had planned." + +"Why you did _not_ meet me?" inquired Dollie coldly, with a little +surprised movement of her arched brows. "Why you did _not_ meet me?" she +repeated. + +"I shall have to ask you to believe that, in the circumstances, it was +absolutely impossible," Dick continued, preferring not to notice the +singular emphasis of her words. "Something occurred early that evening +which--which left me no choice in the matter. I can readily understand +your indignation and humiliation at my failure to appear, and I had no +way of reaching you that evening or since. News of your return last +night only reached me an hour ago. I knew you had disappeared." + +Dollie's blue eyes were opened to the widest and her lips parted a +little in astonishment. For a moment she sat thus, staring at the young +man, then she sank back into her chair with a little gasp. + +"May I inquire," she asked, after she recovered her breath, "the cause +of this--this levity?" + +"Dollie, dear, I am perfectly serious," Dick assured her earnestly. "I +am trying to make it plain to you, that's all." + +"Why you did _not_ meet me?" Dollie repeated again. "Why you _did_ meet +me! And that's--that's what's the matter with everything!" + +Whatever surprise or other emotion Dick might have felt was admirably +repressed. + +"I thought perhaps there was some mistake somewhere," he said at last. +"Now, Dollie, listen to me. No, wait a minute please! I did not go to +the Randolph ball. You did. You eloped from that ball, as you and I had +planned, in an automobile, but not with me. You went with some other +man--the man who really stole the gold plate." + +Dollie opened her mouth to exclaim, then shut it suddenly. + +"Now just a moment, please," pleaded Dick. "You spoke to some other man +under the impression that you were speaking to me. For a reason which +does not appear now, he fell in with your plans. Therefore, you ran away +with him--in the automobile which carried the gold plate. What happened +after that I cannot even surmise. I only know that you are the +mysterious woman who disappeared with the Burglar." + +Dollie gasped and nearly choked with her emotions. A flame of scarlet +leaped into her face and the glare of the blue eyes was pitiless. + +"Mr. Herbert," she said deliberately at last, "I don't know whether you +think I am a fool or only a child. I know that no rational human being +can accept that as true. I know I left Seven Oaks with you in the auto; +I know you are the man who stole the gold plate; I know how you received +the shot in your right shoulder; I know how you afterward fainted from +loss of blood. I know how I bound up your wound and--and--I know a lot +of things else!" + +The sudden rush of words left her breathless for an instant. Dick +listened quietly. He started to say something--to expostulate--but she +got a fresh start and hurried on: + +"I recognised you in that silly disguise by the cleft in your chin. I +called you Dick and you answered me. I asked if you had received the +little casket and you answered yes. I left the ballroom as you directed +and climbed into the automobile. I know that horrid ride we had, and how +I took the gold plate in the bag and walked--walked through the night +until I was exhausted. I know it all--how I lied and connived, and told +silly stories--but I did it all to save you from yourself, and now you +dare face me with a denial!" + +Dollie suddenly burst into tears. Dick now attempted no further denial. +There was no anger in his face--only a deeply troubled expression. He +arose and walked over to the window, where he stood staring out. + +"I know it all," Dollie repeated gurglingly--"all, except what possible +idea you had in stealing the miserable, wretched old plate, anyway!" +There was a pause and Dollie peered through teary fingers. "How--how +long," she asked, "have you been a--a--a--kleptomaniac?" + +Dick shrugged his sturdy shoulders a little impatiently. + +"Did your father ever happen to tell you _why_ he objects to my +attentions to you?" he asked. + +"No, but I know now." And there was a new burst of tears. "It's +because--because you are a--a--you take things." + +"You will not believe what I tell you?" + +"How can I when I helped you run away with the horrid stuff?" + +"If I pledge you my word of honour that I told you the truth?" + +"I can't believe it, I can't!" wailed Dollie desolately. "No one could +believe it. I never suspected--never dreamed--of the possibility of such +a thing even when you lay wounded out there in the dark woods. If I had, +I should certainly have never--have never--kissed you." + +Dick wheeled suddenly. + +"Kissed me?" he exclaimed. + +"Yes, you horrid thing!" sobbed Dollie. "If there had previously been +the slightest doubt in my mind as to your identity, that would have +convinced me that it was you, because--because--just because! And +besides, if it wasn't you I kissed, you ought to have told me!" + +Dollie leaned forward suddenly on the arm of the chair with her face +hidden in her hands. Dick crossed the room softly toward her and laid a +hand caressingly about her shoulders. She shook it off angrily. + +"How dare you, sir?" she blazed. + +"Dollie, don't you love me?" he pleaded. + +"No!" was the prompt reply. + +"But you did love me--once?" + +"Why--yes, but I--I----" + +"And couldn't you ever love me again?" + +"I--I don't ever want to again." + +"But couldn't you?" + +"If you had only told me the truth, instead of making such a silly +denial," she blubbered. "I don't know why you took the plate +unless--unless it is because you--you couldn't help it. But you didn't +tell me the truth." + +Dick stared down at the ruddy head moodily for a moment. Then his manner +changed and he dropped on his knees beside her. + +"Suppose," he whispered, "suppose I should confess that I did take it?" + +Dollie looked up suddenly with a new horror in her face. + +"Oh, you _did_ do it then?" she demanded. This was worse than ever! + +"Suppose I should confess that I did?" + +"Oh, Dick!" she sobbed. And her arms went suddenly around his neck. "You +are breaking my heart. Why? Why?" + +"Would you be satisfied?" he insisted. + +"What could have caused you to do such a thing?" + +The love-light glimmered again in her blue eyes; the red lips trembled. + +"Suppose it had been just a freak of mine, and I had intended to--to +return the stuff, as has been done?" he went on. + +Dollie stared deeply into the eyes upturned to hers. + +"Silly boy," she said. Then she kissed him. "But you must never, never +do it again." + +"I never will," he promised solemnly. + +Five minutes later Dick was leaving the house, when he met Mr. Meredith +in the hall. + +[Illustration: "'Silly boy,' she said"] + +"I'm going to marry your daughter," he said quite calmly. + +Mr. Meredith raved at him as he went down the steps. + +[Illustration] + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Alone in her room, with the key turned in the lock, Miss Dollie Meredith +had a perfectly delightful time. She wept and laughed and sobbed and +shuddered; she was pensive and doleful and happy and melancholy; she +dreamed dreams of the future, past and present; she sang foolish little +ecstatic songs--just a few words of each--and cried again copiously. Her +father had sent her to her room with a stern reprimand, and she giggled +joyously as she remembered it. + +"After all, it wasn't anything," she assured herself. "It was silly for +him to--to take the stuff, of course, but it's back now, and he told me +the truth, and he intended to return it, anyway." In her present mood +she would have justified anything. "And he's not a thief or anything. I +don't suppose father will ever give his consent, so, after all, we'll +have to elope, and that will be--perfectly delightful. Papa will go on +dreadfully and then he'll be all right." + +After a while Dollie snuggled down in the sheets and lay quite still in +the dark until sleep overtook her. Silence reigned in the house. It was +about two o'clock in the morning when she sat up suddenly in bed with +startled eyes. She had heard something--or rather in her sleep she had +received the impression of hearing something. She listened intently as +she peered about. + +Finally she _did_ hear something--something tap sharply on the window +once. Then came silence again. A frightened chill ran all the way down +to Dollie's curling pink toes. There was a pause, and then again came +the sharp click on the window, whereupon Dollie pattered out of bed in +her bare feet and ran to the window, which was open a few inches. + +With the greatest caution she peered out. Vaguely skulking in the +shadows below she made out the figure of a man. As she looked it seemed +to draw up into a knot, then straighten out quickly. Involuntarily she +dodged. There came another sharp click at the window. The man below was +tossing pebbles against the pane with the obvious purpose of attracting +her attention. + +"Dick, is that you?" she called cautiously. + +"Sh-h-h-h!" came the answer. "Here's a note for you. Open the window so +I may throw it in." + +"Is it really and truly you?" Dollie insisted. + +"Yes," came the hurried, whispered answer. "Quick, someone is coming!" + +Dollie threw the sash up and stepped back. A whirling, white object came +through and fell noiselessly on the carpet. Dollie seized upon it +eagerly and ran to the window again. Below she saw the retreating figure +of a man. Other footsteps materialised in a bulky policeman, who +strolled by seeking, perhaps, a quiet spot for a nap. + +[Illustration: "She opened the note eagerly and sat down upon the floor +to read it"] + +Shivering with excitement, Dollie closed the window and pulled down the +shade, after which she lighted the gas. She opened the note eagerly and +sat down upon the floor to read it. Now a large part of this note was +extraneous verbiage of a superlative emotional nature--its vital +importance was an outline of a new plan of elopement, to take place on +Wednesday in time for them to catch a European-bound steamer at +half-past two in the afternoon. + +Dollie read and reread the crumpled sheet many times, and when finally +its wording had been indelibly fixed in her mind she wasted an +unbelievable number of kisses on it. Of course this was sheer +extravagance, but--girls are wonderful creatures. + +"He's the dearest thing in the world!" she declared at last. + +She burned the note reluctantly and carefully disposed of the ashes by +throwing them out of the window, after which she returned to her bed. On +the following morning, Monday, father glared at daughter sternly as she +demurely entered the breakfast-room. He was seeking to read that which +no man has ever been able to read--a woman's face. Dollie smiled upon +him charmingly. + +After breakfast father and daughter had a little talk in a sunny corner +of the library. + +"I have planned for us to return to Baltimore on next Thursday," he +informed her. + +"Oh, isn't that delightful?" beamed Dollie. + +"In view of everything and your broken promise to me--the promise not to +see Herbert again--I think it wisest," he continued. + +"Perhaps it is," she mused. + +"Why did you see him?" he demanded. + +"I consented to see him only to bid him good-by," replied Dollie +demurely, "and to make perfectly clear to him my position in this +matter." + +Oh, woman! Perfidious, insincere, loyal, charming woman! All the tangled +skeins of life are the work of your dainty fingers. All the sins and +sorrows are your doing! + +Mr. Meredith rubbed his chin thoughtfully. + +"You may take it as my wish--my order even," he said as he cleared his +throat--for giving orders to Dollie was a dangerous experiment, "that +you must not attempt to communicate in any way with Mr. Herbert +again--by letter or otherwise." + +"Yes, papa." + +Mr. Meredith was somewhat surprised at the ease with which he got away +with this. Had he been blessed with a little more wisdom in the ways of +women he would have been suspicious. + +"You really do not love him, anyway," he ventured at last. "It was only +a girlish infatuation." + +"I told him yesterday just what I thought of him," she replied +truthfully enough. + +And thus the interview ended. + +It was about noon that day when Hutchinson Hatch called on Dick Herbert. + +"Well, what did you find out?" he inquired. + +"Really, old man," said Dick kindly, "I have decided that there is +nothing I can say to you about the matter. It's a private affair, after +all." + +"Yes, I know that and you know that, but the police don't know it," +commented the reporter grimly. + +"The police!" Dick smiled. + +"Did you see her?" Hatch asked. + +"Yes, I saw her--and her father, too." + +Hatch saw the one door by which he had hoped to solve the riddle closing +on him. + +"Was Miss Meredith the girl in the automobile?" he asked bluntly. + +"Really, I won't answer that." + +"Are you the man who stole the gold plate?" + +"I won't answer that, either," replied Dick smilingly. "Now, look here, +Hatch, you're a good fellow. I like you. It is your business to find out +things, but, in this particular affair, I'm going to make it my business +to keep you from finding out things. I'll risk the police end of it." He +went over and shook hands with the reporter cordially. "Believe me, if I +told you the absolute truth--all of it--you couldn't print it +unless--unless I was arrested, and I don't intend that that shall +happen." + +Hatch went away. + +That night the Randolph gold plate was stolen for the second time. +Thirty-six hours later Detective Mallory arrested Richard Herbert with +the stolen plate in his possession. Dick burst out laughing when the +detective walked in on him. + +[Illustration] + + + + +PART III + +THE THINKING MACHINE + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen, Ph. D., LL. D., F. R. S., M. D., +etc., etc., was the Court of Last Appeal in the sciences. He was five +feet two inches tall, weighed 107 pounds, that being slightly above +normal, and wore a number eight hat. Bushy, yellow hair straggled down +about his ears and partially framed a clean-shaven, wizened face in +which were combined the paradoxical qualities of extreme aggressiveness +and childish petulance. The mouth drooped a little at the corners, being +otherwise a straight line; the eyes were mere slits of blue, squinting +eternally through thick spectacles. His brow rose straight up, domelike, +majestic even, and added a whimsical grotesqueness to his appearance. + +The Professor's idea of light literature, for rare moments of +recreation, was page after page of encyclopćdic discussion on "ologies" +and "isms" with lots of figures in 'em. Sometimes he wrote these +discussions himself, and frequently held them up to annihilation. His +usual speaking tone was one of deep annoyance, and he had an unwavering +glare that went straight through one. He was the son of the son of the +son of an eminent German scientist, the logical production of a house +that had borne a distinguished name in the sciences for generations. + +Thirty-five of his fifty years had been devoted to logic, study, +analysis of cause and effect, mental, material, and psychological. By +his personal efforts he had mercilessly flattened out and readjusted at +least two of the exact sciences and had added immeasurably to the +world's sum of knowledge in others. Once he had held the chair of +philosophy in a great university, but casually one day he promulgated a +thesis that knocked the faculty's eye out, and he was invited to vacate. +It was a dozen years later that that university had openly resorted to +influence and diplomacy to induce him to accept its LL. D. + +For years foreign and American institutions, educational, scientific, +and otherwise, crowded degrees upon him. He didn't care. He started +fires with the elaborately formal notifications of these unsought +honours and turned again to his work in the small laboratory which was a +part of his modest home. There he lived, practically a recluse, his +simple wants being attended to by one aged servant, Martha. + +This, then, was The Thinking Machine. This last title, The Thinking +Machine, perhaps more expressive of the real man than a yard of honorary +initials, was coined by Hutchinson Hatch at the time of the scientist's +defeat of a chess champion after a single morning's instruction in the +game. The Thinking Machine had asserted that logic was inevitable, and +that game had proven his assertion. Afterward there had grown up a +strange sort of friendship between the crabbed scientist and the +reporter. Hatch, to the scientist, represented the great, whirling +outside world; to the reporter the scientist was merely a brain--a +marvellously keen, penetrating, infallible guide through material +muddles far removed from the delicately precise labours of the +laboratory. + +Now The Thinking Machine sat in a huge chair in his reception-room with +long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip and squint eyes turned upward. +Hatch was talking, had been talking for more than an hour with +infrequent interruptions. In that time he had laid bare the facts as he +and the police knew them from the incidents of the masked ball at Seven +Oaks to the return of Dollie Meredith. + +"Now, Mr. Hatch," asked The Thinking Machine, "just what is known of +this second theft of the gold plate?" + +"It's simple enough," explained the reporter. "It was plain burglary. +Some person entered the Randolph house on Monday night by cutting out a +pane of glass and unfastening a window-latch. Whoever it was took the +plate and escaped. That's all anyone knows of it." + +"Left no clew, of course?" + +"No, so far as has been found." + +"I presume that, on its return by express, Mr. Randolph ordered the +plate placed in the small room as before?" + +"Yes." + +"He's a fool." + +"Yes." + +"Please go on." + +"Now the police absolutely decline to say as yet just what evidence they +have against Herbert beyond the finding of the plate in his possession," +the reporter resumed, "though, of course, that's enough and to spare. +They will not say, either, how they first came to connect him with the +affair. Detective Mallory doesn't----" + +"When and where was Mr. Herbert arrested?" + +"Yesterday, Tuesday, afternoon in his rooms. Fourteen pieces of the gold +plate were on the table." + +The Thinking Machine dropped his eyes a moment to squint at the +reporter. + +"Only eleven pieces of the plate were first stolen, you said?" + +"Only eleven, yes." + +"And I think you said two shots were fired at the thief?" + +"Yes." + +"Who fired them, please?" + +"One of the detectives--Cunningham, I think." + +"It was a detective--you know that?" + +"Yes, I know that." + +"Yes, yes. Please go on." + +"The plate was all spread out--there was no attempt to conceal it," +Hatch resumed. "There was a box on the floor and Herbert was about to +pack the stuff in it when Detective Mallory and two of his men entered. +Herbert's servant, Blair, was away from the house at the time. His +people are up in Nova Scotia, so he was alone." + +"Nothing but the gold plate was found?" + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the reporter. "There was a lot of jewelry in a case +and fifteen or twenty odd pieces--fifty thousand dollars' worth of +stuff, at least. The police took it to find the owners." + +"Dear me! Dear me!" exclaimed The Thinking Machine. "Why didn't you +mention the jewelry at first? Wait a minute." + +Hatch was silent while the scientist continued to squint at the ceiling. +He wriggled in his chair uncomfortably and smoked a couple of cigarettes +before The Thinking Machine turned to him and nodded. + +"That's all I know," said Hatch. + +"Did Mr. Herbert say anything when arrested?" + +"No, he only laughed. I don't know why. I don't imagine it would have +been at all funny to me." + +"Has he said anything since?" + +"No, nothing to me or anybody else. He was arraigned at a preliminary +hearing, pleaded not guilty, and was released on twenty thousand dollars +bail. Some of his rich friends furnished it." + +"Did he give any reason for his refusal to say anything?" insisted The +Thinking Machine testily. + +"He remarked to me that he wouldn't say anything, because, even if he +told the truth, no one would believe him." + +"If it should have been a protestation of innocence I'm afraid nobody +_would_ have believed him," commented the scientist enigmatically. He +was silent for several minutes. "It could have been a brother, of +course," he mused. + +"A brother?" asked Hatch quickly. "Whose brother? What brother?" + +"As I understand it," the scientist went on, not heeding the question, +"you did not believe Herbert guilty of the first theft?" + +"Why, I couldn't," Hatch protested. "I couldn't," he repeated. + +"Why?" + +"Well, because--because he's not that sort of man," explained the +reporter. "I've known him for years, personally and by reputation." + +"Was he a particular friend of yours in college?" + +"No, not an intimate, but he was in my class--and he's a whacking, +jam-up, ace-high football player." That squared everything. + +"Do you now believe him guilty?" insisted the scientist. + +"I can't believe anything else--and yet I'd stake my life on his +honesty." + +"And Miss Meredith?" + +The reporter was reaching the explosive point. He had seen and talked to +Miss Meredith, you know. + +"It's perfectly asinine to suppose that _she_ had anything to do with +either theft, don't you think?" + +The Thinking Machine was silent on that point. + +[Illustration] + +"Well, Mr. Hatch," he said finally, "the problem comes down to this: Did +a man, and perhaps a woman, who are circumstantially proven guilty of +stealing the gold plate, _actually_ steal it? We have the stained +cushion of the automobile in which the thieves escaped to indicate that +one of them was wounded; we have Mr. Herbert with an injured right +shoulder--a hurt received that night on his own statement, though he +won't say how. We have, then, the second theft and the finding of the +stolen property in his possession along with another lot of stolen +stuff--jewels. It is apparently a settled case now without going +further." + +"But----" Hatch started to protest. + +"But suppose we do go a little further," The Thinking Machine went on. +"I can prove definitely, conclusively, and finally by settling only two +points whether or not Mr. Herbert was wounded while in the automobile. +If he was wounded while in that automobile, he was the first thief; if +not, he wasn't. If he was the first thief, he was probably the second, +but even if he were not the first thief, there is, of course, a +possibility that he was the second." + +Hatch was listening with mouth open. + +"Suppose we begin now," continued The Thinking Machine, "by finding out +the name of the physician who treated Mr. Herbert's wound last Thursday +night. Mr. Herbert may have a reason for keeping the identity of this +physician secret, but, perhaps--wait a minute," and the scientist +disappeared into the next room. He was gone for five minutes. "See if +the physician who treated the wound wasn't Dr. Clarence Walpole." + +The reporter blinked a little. + +"Right," he said. "What next?" + +"Ask him something about the nature of the wound and all the usual +questions." + +Hatch nodded. + +"Then," resumed The Thinking Machine casually, "bring me some of Mr. +Herbert's blood." + +The reporter blinked a good deal, and gulped twice. + +"How much?" he inquired briskly. + +"A single drop on a small piece of glass will do very nicely," replied +the scientist. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The Supreme Police Intelligence of the Metropolitan District was doing +some heavy thinking, which, modestly enough, bore generally on his own +dazzling perspicacity. Just at the moment he couldn't recall any +detector of crime whose lustre in any way dimmed his own, or whose mere +shadow, even, had a right to fall on the same earth as his; and this +lapse of memory so stimulated his admiration for the subject of his +thoughts that he lighted a fresh cigar and put his feet in the middle of +the desk. + +He sat thus when The Thinking Machine called. The Supreme +Intelligence--Mr. Mallory--knew Professor Van Dusen well, and, though he +received his visitor graciously, he showed no difficulty in restraining +any undue outburst of enthusiasm. Instead, the same admirable +self-control which prevented him from outwardly evidencing his pleasure +prompted him to square back in his chair with a touch of patronising +aggressiveness in his manner. + +"Ah, Professor," was his noncommittal greeting. + +"Good-evening, Mr. Mallory," responded the scientist in the thin, +irritated voice which always set Mr. Mallory's nerves a-jangle. "I don't +suppose you would tell me by what steps you were led to arrest Mr. +Herbert?" + +"I would not," declared Mr. Mallory promptly. + +"No, nor would you inform me of the nature of the evidence against him +in addition to the jewels and plate found in his possession?" + +"I would not," replied Mr. Mallory again. + +"No, I thought perhaps you would not," remarked The Thinking Machine. "I +understand, by the way, that one of your men took a leather cushion from +the automobile in which the thieves escaped on the night of the ball?" + +"Well, what of it?" demanded the detective. + +"I merely wanted to inquire if it would be permissible for me to see +that cushion?" + +Detective Mallory glared at him suspiciously, then slowly his heavy +face relaxed, and he laughed as he arose and produced the cushion. + +"If you're trying to make any mystery of this cushion, you're in bad," +he informed the scientist. "We know the owner of the automobile in which +Herbert and the Girl escaped. The cushion means nothing." + +The Thinking Machine examined the heavy leather carefully and paid a +great deal of attention to the crusted stains which it bore. He picked +at one of the brown spots with his penknife and it flaked off in his +hand. + +"Herbert was caught with the goods on," declared the detective, and he +thumped the desk with his lusty fist. "We've got the right man." + +"Yes," admitted The Thinking Machine, "it begins to look very much as if +you _did_ have the right man--for once." + +Detective Mallory snorted. + +"Would you mind telling me if any of the jewelry you found in Mr. +Herbert's possession has been identified?" + +"Sure thing," replied the detective. "That's where I've got Herbert +good. Four people who lost jewelry at the masked ball have appeared and +claimed pieces of the stuff." + +For an instant a slightly perplexed wrinkle appeared in the brow of The +Thinking Machine, and as quickly it passed. + +"Of course, of course," he mused. + +"It's the biggest haul of stolen goods the police of this city have made +for many years," the detective volunteered complacently. "And, if I'm +not wrong, there's more of it coming--no man knows how much more. Why, +Herbert must have been operating for years, and he got away with it, of +course, by the gentlemanly exterior, the polish, and all that. I +consider his capture the most important that has happened since I have +been connected with the police." + +"Indeed?" inquired the scientist thoughtfully. He was still gazing at +the cushion. + +"And the most important development of all is to come," Detective +Mallory rattled on. "That will be the real sensation, and make the +arrest of Herbert seem purely incidental. It now looks as if there +would be another arrest of a--of a person who is so high socially, and +all that----" + +"Yes," interrupted The Thinking Machine, "but do you think it would be +wise to arrest her now?" + +"Her?" demanded Detective Mallory. "What do you know of any woman?" + +"You were speaking of Miss Dorothy Meredith, weren't you?" inquired The +Thinking Machine blandly. "Well, I merely asked if you thought it would +be wise for your men to go so far as to arrest her." + +The detective bit his cigar in two in obvious perturbation. + +"How--how--did you happen to know her name?" he demanded. + +"Oh, Mr. Hatch mentioned it to me," replied the scientist. "He has known +of her connection with the case for several days, as well as Herbert's, +and has talked to them both, I think." + +The Supreme Intelligence was nearly apoplectic. + +"If Hatch knew it why didn't he tell me?" he thundered. + +"Really, I don't know," responded the scientist. "Perhaps," he added +curtly, "he may have had some absurd notion that you would find it out +for yourself. He has strange ideas like that sometimes." + +And when Detective Mallory had fully recovered The Thinking Machine was +gone. + +Meanwhile Hatch had seen and questioned Dr. Clarence Walpole in the +latter's office, only a stone's throw from Dick Herbert's home. Had +Doctor Walpole recently dressed a wound for Mr. Herbert? Doctor Walpole +had. A wound caused by a pistol-bullet? Yes. + +"When was it, please?" asked Hatch. + +"Only a few nights ago." + +"Thursday night, perhaps?" + +Doctor Walpole consulted a desk-diary. + +"Yes, Thursday night, or rather Friday morning," he replied. "It was +between two and three o'clock. He came here and I fixed him up." + +"Where was the wound, please?" + +"In the right shoulder," replied the physician, "just here," and he +touched the reporter with one finger. "It wasn't dangerous, but he had +lost considerable blood." + +Hatch was silent for a moment, dazed. Every new point piled up the +evidence against Herbert. The location of the wound--a pistol-wound--the +very hour of the dressing of it! Dick would have had plenty of time +between the moment of the robbery, which was comparatively early, and +the hour of his call on Doctor Walpole to do all those things which he +was suspected of doing. + +"I don't suppose Mr. Herbert explained how he got the wound?" Hatch +asked apprehensively. He was afraid he had. + +"No. I asked, but he evaded the question. It was, of course, none of my +business, after I had extracted the bullet and dressed the hurt." + +"You have the bullet?" + +"Yes. It's the usual size--thirty-two calibre." + +That was all. The prosecution was in, the case proven, the verdict +rendered. Ten minutes later Hatch's name was announced to Dick Herbert. +Dick received him gloomily, shook hands with him, then resumed his +interrupted pacing. + +"I had declined to see men from other papers," he said wearily. + +"Now, look here, Dick," expostulated Hatch, "don't you want to make some +statement of your connection with this affair? I honestly believe that +if you did it would help you." + +"No, I cannot make any statement--that's all." Dick's hand closed +fiercely. "I can't," he added, "and there's no need to talk of it." He +continued his pacing for a moment or so; then turned on the reporter. +"Do you believe me guilty?" he demanded abruptly. + +"I can't believe anything else," Hatch replied falteringly. "But at that +I don't _want_ to believe it." There was an embarrassed pause. "I have +just seen Dr. Clarence Walpole." + +"Well?" Dick wheeled on him angrily. + +"What he said alone would convict you, even if the stuff had not been +found here," Hatch replied. + +"Are you _trying_ to convict me?" Dick demanded. + +"I'm trying to get the truth," remarked Hatch. + +"There is just one man in the world whom I must see before the truth can +ever be told," declared Dick vehemently. "And I can't find him now. I +don't know where he is!" + +"Let me find him. Who is he? What's his name?" + +"If I told you that I might as well tell you everything," Dick went on. +"It was to prevent any mention of that name that I have allowed myself +to be placed in this position. It is purely a personal matter between +us--at least I will make it so--and if I ever meet him----" his hands +closed and unclosed spasmodically, "the truth will be known unless I--I +kill him first." + +More bewildered, more befuddled, and more generally betangled than ever, +Hatch put his hands to his head to keep it from flying off. Finally he +glanced around at Dick, who stood with clenched fists and closed teeth. +A blaze of madness lay in Dick's eyes. + +"Have you seen Miss Meredith again?" inquired the reporter. + +Dick burst out laughing. + +Half an hour later Hatch left him. On the glass top of an inkstand he +carried three precious drops of Herbert's blood. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Faithfully, phonographically even, Hatch repeated to The Thinking +Machine the conversation he had had with Doctor Walpole, indicating on +the person of the eminent scientist the exact spot of the wound as +Doctor Walpole had indicated it to him. The scientist listened without +comment to the recital, casually studying meanwhile the three crimson +drops on the glass. + +"Every step I take forward is a step backward," the reporter declared in +conclusion with a helpless grin. "Instead of showing that Dick Herbert +might not have stolen the plate I am proving conclusively that he was +the thief--nailing it to him so hard that he can't possibly get out of +it." He was silent a moment. "If I keep on long enough," he added +glumly, "I'll hang him." + +The Thinking Machine squinted at him aggressively. + +"You still don't believe him guilty?" he asked. + +"Why, I--I--I----" Hatch burst out savagely. "Damn it, I don't know +what I believe," he tapered off. "It's absolutely impossible!" + +"Nothing is impossible, Mr. Hatch," snapped The Thinking Machine +irritably. "The worst a problem can be is difficult, but all problems +can be solved as inevitably as that two and two make four--not +sometimes, but all the time. Please don't say things are impossible. It +annoys me exceedingly." + +Hatch stared at his distinguished friend and smiled whimsically. He was +also annoyed exceedingly on his own private, individual account--the +annoyance that comes from irresistibly butting into immovable facts. + +"Doctor Walpole's statement," The Thinking Machine went on after a +moment, "makes this particular problem ludicrously simple. Two points +alone show conclusively that Mr. Herbert was not the man in the +automobile. I shall reach the third myself." + +Hatch didn't say anything. The English language is singularly inadequate +at times, and if he had spoken he would have had to invent a phraseology +to convey even a faint glimmer of what he really thought. + +"Now, Mr. Hatch," resumed the scientist, quite casually, "I understand +you graduated from Harvard in ninety-eight. Yes? Well, Herbert was a +classmate of yours there. Please obtain for me one of the printed lists +of students who were in Harvard that year--a complete list." + +"I have one at home," said the reporter. + +"Get it, please, immediately, and return here," instructed the +scientist. + +Hatch went out and The Thinking Machine disappeared into his laboratory. +He remained there for one hour and forty-seven minutes by the clock. +When he came out he found the reporter sitting in the reception-room +again, holding his head. The scientist's face was as blankly inscrutable +as ever. + +"Here is the list," said Hatch as he handed it over. + +The Thinking Machine took it in his long, slender fingers and turned two +or three leaves. Finally he stopped and ran a finger down one page. + +"Ah," he exclaimed at last. "I thought so." + +"Thought what?" asked Hatch curiously. + +"I'm going out to see Mr. Meredith now," remarked The Thinking Machine +irrelevantly. "Come along. Have you met him?" + +"No." + +Mr. Meredith had read the newspaper accounts of the arrest of Dick +Herbert and the seizure of the gold plate and jewels; he had even +taunted his charming daughter with it in a fatherly sort of a way. She +was weeping, weeping her heart out over this latest proof of the perfidy +and loathsomeness of the man she loved. Incidentally, it may be +mentioned here that the astute Mr. Meredith was not aware of any +elopement plot--either the first or second. + +When a card bearing the name of Mr. Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen was +handed to Mr. Meredith he went wonderingly into the reception-room. +There was a pause as the scientist and Mr. Meredith mentally sized each +other up; then introductions--and The Thinking Machine came down to +business abruptly, as always. + +"May I ask, Mr. Meredith," he began, "how many sons you have?" + +"One," replied Mr. Meredith, puzzled. + +"May I ask his present address?" went on the scientist. + +Mr. Meredith studied the belligerent eyes of his caller and wondered +what business it was of his, for Mr. Meredith was a belligerent sort of +a person himself. + +"May I ask," he inquired with pronounced emphasis on the personal +pronoun, "why you want to know?" + +Hatch rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was wondering what would happen +to him when the cyclone struck. + +"It may save him and you a great deal of annoyance if you will give me +his address," said The Thinking Machine. "I desire to communicate with +him immediately on a matter of the utmost importance--a purely personal +matter." + +"Personal matter?" repeated Mr. Meredith. "Your abruptness and manner, +sir, were not calculated to invite confidence." + +The Thinking Machine bowed gravely. + +"May I ask your son's address?" he repeated. + +Mr. Meredith considered the matter at some length and finally arrived at +the conclusion that he might ask. + +"He is in South America at present--Buenos Ayres," he replied. + +"What?" exclaimed The Thinking Machine so suddenly that both Hatch and +Mr. Meredith started a little. "What?" he repeated, and wrinkles +suddenly appeared in the domelike brow. + +"I said he was in South America--Buenos Ayres," repeated Mr. Meredith +stiffly, but a little awed. "A letter or cable to him in care of the +American Consul at Buenos Ayres will reach him promptly." + +The Thinking Machine's narrow eyes were screwed down to the disappearing +point, the slender white fingers were twiddled jerkily, the corrugations +remained in his brow. + +"How long has Mr. Meredith been there?" he asked at last. + +"Three months." + +"Do you _know_ he _is_ there?" + +Mr. Meredith started to say something and swallowed it with an effort. + +"I know it positively, yes," he replied. "I received this letter dated +the second from him three days ago, and to-day I received a +cable-dispatch forwarded to me here from Baltimore." + +"Are you positive the letter is in your son's handwriting?" + +Mr. Meredith almost choked in mingled bewilderment and resentment at the +question and the manner of its asking. + +"I am positive, yes," he replied at last, preserving his tone of dignity +with a perceptible effort. He noted the inscrutable face of his caller +and saw the corrugations in the brow suddenly swept away. "What business +of yours is it, anyway?" blazed Mr. Meredith suddenly. + +"May I ask where _you_ were last Thursday night?" went on the even, +steady voice. + +"It's no business of yours," Mr. Meredith blurted. "I was in Baltimore." + +"Can you prove it in a court of law?" + +"Prove it? Of course I can prove it!" Mr. Meredith was fairly bellowing +at his impassive interrogator. "But it's nobody's business." + +"If you _can_ prove it, Mr. Meredith," remarked The Thinking Machine +quietly, coldly, "you had best make your arrangements to do so, because, +believe me, it may be necessary to save you from a charge of having +stolen the Randolph gold plate on last Thursday night at the masked +ball. Good-day, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +"But Mr. Herbert won't see anyone, sir," protested Blair. + +"Tell Mr. Herbert, please, that unless I can see him immediately his +bail-bond will be withdrawn," directed The Thinking Machine. + +He stood waiting in the hall while Blair went up the stairs. Dick +Herbert took the card impatiently and glanced at it. + +"Van Dusen," he mused. "Who the deuce is Van Dusen?" + +Blair repeated the message he had received below. + +"What does he look like?" inquired Dick. + +"He's a shrivelled little man with a big yellow head, sir," replied +Blair. + +"Let him come up," instructed Dick. + +Thus, within an hour after he had talked to Mr. Meredith, The Thinking +Machine met Dick Herbert. + +"What's this about the bail-bond?" Dick inquired. + +"I wanted to talk to you," was the scientist's calm reply. "That seemed +to be the easiest way to make you believe it was important, so----" + +Dick's face flushed crimson at the trick. + +"Well, you see me!" he broke out angrily. "I ought to throw you down the +stairs, but--what is it?" + +Not having been invited to a seat, The Thinking Machine took one anyway +and settled himself comfortably. + +"If you will listen to me for a moment without interruption," he began +testily, "I think the subject of my remarks will be of deep personal +concern to you. I am interested in solving this Randolph plate affair +and have perhaps gone further in my investigation than anyone else. At +least, I know more about it. There are some things I don't happen to +know, however, that are of the greatest importance." + +"I tell you----" stormed Dick. + +"For instance," calmly resumed the scientist, "it is very important for +me to know whether or not Harry Meredith was masked when he came into +this room last Thursday night." + +[Illustration: "Suddenly he stopped and turned upon The Thinking +Machine"] + +Dick gazed at him in surprise which approached awe. His eyes were widely +distended, the lower part of his face lax, for the instant; then his +white teeth closed with a snap and he sat down opposite The Thinking +Machine. Anger had gone from his manner; instead there was a pallor of +apprehension in the clean-cut face. + +"Who are you, Mr. Van Dusen?" he asked at last. His tone was mild, even +deferential. + +"Was he masked?" insisted the scientist. + +For a long while Dick was silent. Finally he arose and paced nervously +back and forth across the room, glancing at the diminutive figure of The +Thinking Machine each time as he turned. + +"I won't say anything," he decided. + +"Will you name the cause of the trouble you and Meredith had in +Harvard?" asked the scientist. + +Again there was a long pause. + +"No," Dick said finally. + +"Did it have anything to do with theft?" + +"I don't know who you are or why you are prying into an affair that, at +least on its face, does not concern you," replied Dick. "I'll say +nothing at all--unless--unless you produce the one man who can and shall +explain this affair. Produce him here in this room where I can get my +hands on him!" + +The Thinking Machine squinted at the sturdy shoulders with admiration in +his face. + +"Did it ever happen to occur to you, Mr. Herbert, that Harry Meredith +and his father are precisely of the same build?" + +Some nameless, impalpable expression crept into Dick's face despite an +apparent fight to restrain it, and again he stared at the small man in +the chair. + +"And that you and Mr. Meredith are practically of the same build?" + +Tormented by unasked questions and by those emotions which had +compelled him to silence all along, Dick still paced back and forth. His +head was whirling. The structure which he had so carefully guarded was +tumbling about his ears. Suddenly he stopped and turned upon The +Thinking Machine. + +"Just what do you know of this affair?" he asked. + +"I know for one thing," replied the scientist positively, "that you were +_not_ the man in the automobile." + +"How do you know that?" + +"That's beside the question just now." + +"Do you know who _was_ in the automobile?" Dick insisted. + +"I can only answer that question when you have answered mine," the +scientist went on. "Was Harry Meredith masked when he entered this room +last Thursday night?" + +Dick sat staring down at his hands, which were working nervously. +Finally he nodded. + +The Thinking Machine understood. + +"You recognised him, then, by something he said or wore?" + +Again Dick nodded reluctantly. + +"Both," he added. + +The Thinking Machine leaned back in his chair and sat there for a long +time. At last he arose as if the interview were at an end. There seemed +to be no other questions that he desired to ask at the moment. + +"You need not be unnecessarily alarmed, Mr. Herbert," he assured Dick as +he picked up his hat. "I shall act with discretion in this matter. I am +not representing anyone who would care to make it unpleasant for you. I +may tell you that you made two serious mistakes: the first when you saw +or communicated with Mr. Randolph immediately after the plate was stolen +the second time, and again when you undertook something which properly +belonged within the province of the police." + +Herbert still sat with his head in his hands as The Thinking Machine +went out. + +It was very late that night--after twelve, in fact--when Hutchinson +Hatch called on The Thinking Machine with excitement evident in tone, +manner, and act. He was accustomed to calling at any hour; now he found +the scientist at work as if it were midday. + +[Illustration] + +"The worst has happened," the reporter told him. + +The Thinking Machine didn't look around. + +"Detective Mallory and two of his men saw Miss Meredith this evening +about nine o'clock," Hatch hurried on, "and bully-ragged her into a +confession." + +"What sort of a confession?" + +"She admitted that she was in the automobile on the night of the ball +and that----" + +"Mr. Herbert was with her," the scientist supplied. + +"Yes." + +"And--what else?" + +"That her own jewels, valued at twenty thousand dollars, were among +those found in Herbert's possession when he was arrested." + +The Thinking Machine turned and looked at the reporter, just casually, +and raised his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn. + +"Well, she couldn't do anything else," he said calmly. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Hutchinson Hatch remained with The Thinking Machine for more than an +hour, and when he left his head was spinning with the multitude of +instructions which had been heaped upon him. + +"Meet me at noon in Detective Mallory's office at police headquarters," +The Thinking Machine had said in conclusion. "Mr. Randolph and Miss +Meredith will be there." + +"Miss Meredith?" Hatch repeated. "She hasn't been arrested, you know, +and I doubt if she will come." + +"She will come," the scientist had replied, as if that settled it. + +Next day the Supreme Intelligence was sitting in his private office. He +had eaten the canary; mingled triumph and gratification beamed upon his +countenance. The smile remained, but to it was added the quality of +curiosity when the door opened and The Thinking Machine, accompanied by +Dollie Meredith and Stuyvesant Randolph, entered. + +"Mr. Hatch called yet?" inquired the scientist. + +"No," responded the detective. + +"Dear me!" grumbled the other. "It's one minute after twelve o'clock +now. What could have delayed him?" + +His answer was the clattering rush of a cab and the appearance of Hatch +in person a moment later. He came into the room headlong, glanced +around, then paused. + +"Did you get it?" inquired The Thinking Machine. + +"Yes, I got it, but----" began the reporter. + +"Nothing else now," commanded the other. + +There was a little pause as The Thinking Machine selected a chair. The +others also sat down. + +"Well?" inquired the Supreme Intelligence at last. + +"I would like to ask, Mr. Mallory," the scientist said, "if it would be +possible for me to convince you of Mr. Herbert's innocence of the +charges against him?" + +"It would not," replied the detective promptly. "It would not while the +facts are before me, supplemented by the statement of Miss Meredith +here--her confession." + +Dollie coloured exquisitely and her lips trembled slightly. + +"Would it be possible, Miss Meredith," the even voice went on, "to +convince _you_ of Mr. Herbert's innocence?" + +"I--I don't think so," she faltered. "I--I _know_." + +Tears which had been restrained with difficulty gushed forth suddenly, +and The Thinking Machine squinted at her in pained surprise. + +"Don't do that," he commanded. "It's--it's exceedingly irritating." He +paused a moment, then turned suddenly to Mr. Randolph. "And you?" he +asked. + +Mr. Randolph shrugged his shoulders. + +The Thinking Machine receded still further into his chair and stared +dreamily upward with his long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip. +Hatch knew the attitude; something was going to happen. He waited +anxiously. Detective Mallory knew it, too, and wriggled uncomfortably. + +"Suppose," the scientist began, "just suppose that we turn a little +human intelligence on this problem for a change and see if we can't get +the truth out of the blundering muddle that the police have helped to +bring about. Let's use logic, inevitable logic, to show, simply enough, +that instead of being guilty, Mr. Herbert is innocent." + +Dolly Meredith suddenly leaned forward in her chair with flushed face, +eyes widely opened and lips slightly parted. Detective Mallory also +leaned forward in his chair, but there was a different expression on his +face--oh, so different. + +"Miss Meredith, we know you were in the automobile with the Burglar who +stole the plate," The Thinking Machine went on. "You probably knew that +he was wounded and possibly either aided in dressing the wound--as any +woman would--or else saw him dress it himself?" + +"I bound my handkerchief on it," replied the Girl. Her voice was low, +almost a whisper. + +"Where was the wound?" + +"In the right shoulder," she replied. + +"Back or front?" insisted the scientist. + +"Back," she replied. "Very near the arm, an inch or so below the level +of the shoulder." + +Except for The Thinking Machine himself Hatch was the only person in the +room to whom this statement meant anything, and he restrained a shout +with difficulty. + +"Now, Mr. Mallory," the scientist went on calmly, "do you happen to know +Dr. Clarence Walpole?" + +"I know of him, yes," replied the detective. "He is a man of +considerable reputation." + +"Would you believe him under oath?" + +"Why, certainly, of course." + +The Supreme Intelligence tugged at his bristly moustache. + +"If Doctor Walpole should dress a wound and should later, under oath, +point out its exact location, you would believe him?" + +"Why, I'd have to, of course." + +"Very well," commented The Thinking Machine tersely. "Now I will state +an incontrovertible scientific fact for your further enlightenment. You +may verify it anyway you choose. This is, briefly, that the blood +corpuscles in man average one-thirty-three hundredths of an inch in +diameter. Remember that, please: one-thirty-three hundredths of an inch. +The system of measurement has reached a state of perfection almost +incomprehensible to the man who does not understand." + +He paused for so long that Detective Mallory began to wriggle again. The +others were leaning forward, listening with widely varied expressions on +their faces. + +"Now, Mr. Mallory," continued The Thinking Machine at last, "one of your +men shot twice at the Burglar in the automobile, as I understand it?" + +"Yes--two shots." + +"Mr. Cunningham?" + +"Yes, Detective Cunningham." + +"Is he here now?" + +The detective pressed a button on his desk and a uniformed man appeared. +Instructions were given, and a moment later Detective Cunningham stood +before them wonderingly. + +"I suppose you can prove beyond any shadow of a doubt," resumed the +scientist, still addressing Mr. Mallory, "that two shots--_and only +two_--were fired?" + +"I can prove it by twenty witnesses," was the reply. + +"Good, very good," exclaimed the scientist, and he turned to Cunningham. + +"You _know_ that only two shots were fired?" + +"I know it, yes," replied Cunningham. "I fired 'em." + +"May I see your revolver?" + +Cunningham produced the weapon and handed it over. The Thinking Machine +merely glanced at it. + +"This is the revolver you used?" + +"Yes." + +"Very well, then," remarked the scientist quietly, "on that statement +alone Mr. Herbert is proven innocent of the charge against him." + +There was an astonished gasp all around. Hatch was beginning to see what +The Thinking Machine meant, and curiously watched the bewitchingly +sorrowful face of Dollie Meredith. He saw all sorts of strange things +there. + +"Proven innocent?" snorted Detective Mallory. "Why, you've convicted him +out of hand so far as I can see." + +"Corpuscles in human blood average, as I said, one-thirty-three +hundredths of an inch in diameter," resumed the scientist. "They vary +slightly each way, of course. Now, the corpuscles of the Burglar in the +automobile measured just one-thirty-one-forty-seven hundredths of an +inch. Mr. Herbert's corpuscles, tested the same way, with the same +instruments, measure precisely one-thirty-five-sixty hundredths." He +stopped as if that were all. + +"By George!" exclaimed Mr. Randolph. "By George!" + +"That's all tommy-rot," Detective Mallory burst out. "That's nothing to +a jury or to any other man with common sense." + +"That difference in measurement proves beyond question that Mr. Herbert +was not wounded while in the automobile," went on The Thinking Machine +as if there had been no interruption. "Now, Mr. Cunningham, may I ask if +the Burglar's back was toward you when you fired?" + +"Yes. He was going away from me." + +"Well, that statement agrees with the statement of Miss Meredith to show +that the Burglar was wounded in the back. Doctor Walpole dressed Mr. +Herbert's wound between two and three o'clock Friday morning following +the masked ball. Mr. Herbert had been shot, but the wound was in the +_front_ of his right shoulder." + +Delighted amazement radiated from Dollie Meredith's face; she clapped +her hands involuntarily as she would have applauded a stage incident. +Detective Mallory started to say something, then thought better of it +and glared at Cunningham instead. + +"Now, Mr. Cunningham says that he shot the Burglar with this revolver." +The Thinking Machine waved the weapon under Detective Mallory's nose. +"This is the usual police weapon. Its calibre is thirty-eight. Mr. +Herbert was shot with a _thirty-two_ calibre. Here is the bullet." And +he tossed it on the desk. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Strange emotions all tangled up with turbulent, night-marish impressions +scrambled through Dollie Meredith's pretty head in garish disorder. She +didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Finally she compromised by blushing +radiantly at the memory of certain lingering kisses she had bestowed +upon--upon--Dick Herbert? No, it wasn't Dick Herbert. Oh, dear! + +Detective Mallory pounced upon the bullet as a hound upon a hare, and +turned and twisted it in his hands. Cunningham leaned over his shoulder, +then drew a cartridge from the revolver and compared it, as to size, +with the bullet. Hatch and Mr. Randolph, looking on, saw him shake his +head. The ball was too small for the revolver. + +The Supreme Intelligence turned suddenly, fiercely, upon Dollie and +thrust an accusing finger into her startled face. + +"Mr. Herbert confessed to you that he was with you in the automobile, +didn't he?" + +"Y-yes," she faltered. + +"You _know_ he was with you?" + +"I thought I knew it." + +"You wouldn't have gone with any other man?" + +"Certainly not!" A blaze of indignation suffused her cheeks. + +"Your casket of jewels was found among the stolen goods in his +possession?" + +"Yes, but----" + +With a wave of his hand the Supreme Intelligence stopped explanations +and turned to glare at The Thinking Machine. That imperturbable +gentleman did not alter his position in the slightest, nor did he change +the steady, upward squint of his eyes. + +"If you have quite finished, Mr. Mallory," he said after a moment, "I +will explain how and in what circumstances the stolen plate and jewels +came into Mr. Herbert's possession." + +"Go on," urged Mr. Randolph and Hatch in a breath. + +"Explain all you please; I've got him with the goods on," declared the +Supreme Intelligence doggedly. + +"When the simplest rules of logic establish a fact it becomes +incontrovertible," resumed the scientist. "I have shown that Mr. Herbert +was _not_ the man in the automobile--the Burglar. Now, what _did_ happen +to Mr. Herbert? Twice since his arrest he has stated that it would be +useless for him to explain because no one would believe it, and no one +_would_ have believed it unsupported, least of all you, Mr. Mallory. + +"It's an admitted fact that Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert had planned to +elope from Seven Oaks the night of the ball. I daresay that Mr. Herbert +did not deem it wise for Miss Meredith to know his costume, although he +must, of necessity, have known hers. Therefore, the plan was for him to +recognise her, but as it developed she recognised him--or thought she +did--and that was the real cause of this remarkable muddle." He glanced +at Dollie. "Is that correct?" + +Dollie nodded blushingly. + +"Now, Mr. Herbert did not go to the ball--why not I will explain later. +Therefore, Miss Meredith recognised the real Burglar as Mr. Herbert, and +we know how they ran away together after the Burglar had stolen the +plate and various articles of jewelry. We must credit the Burglar with +remarkable intelligence, so that when a young and attractive woman--I +may say a beautiful woman--spoke to him as someone else he immediately +saw an advantage in it. For instance, when there came discovery of the +theft the girl might unwittingly throw the police off the track by +revealing to them what she believed to be the identity of the thief. +Further, he was a daring, audacious sort of person; the pure love of +such an adventure might have appealed to him. Still, again, it is +possible that he believed Miss Meredith a thief who was in peril of +discovery or capture, and a natural gallantry for one of his own craft +prompted him to act as he did. There is always, too, the possibility +that he knew he was mistaken for Mr. Herbert." + +Dollie was beginning to see, too. + +"We know the method of escape, the pursuit, and all that," continued +the Professor, "therefore we jump to the return of the gold plate. Logic +makes it instantly apparent that that was the work of Miss Meredith +here. Not having the plate, Mr. Herbert did not send it back, of course; +and the Burglar _would_ not have sent it back. Realising, too late, that +the man she was with was really a thief--and still believing him, +perhaps, to be Mr. Herbert--she must have taken the plate and escaped +under cover of darkness?" + +The tone carried a question and The Thinking Machine turned squintingly +upon Dollie. Again she nodded. She was enthralled, fascinated, by the +recital. + +"It was a simple matter for her to return the gold plate by express, +taking advantage of an unoccupied house and the willingness of a +stranger to telephone for an express wagon. Thus, we have the plate +again at Seven Oaks, and we have it there by the only method it could +have been returned there when we account for, and consider, every known +fact." + +The Thinking Machine paused and sat silently staring upward. His +listeners readjusted themselves in their chairs and waited impatiently. + +"Now, why did Mr. Herbert confess to Miss Meredith that he stole the +plate?" asked the scientist, as if of himself. "Perhaps she forced him +to it. Mr. Herbert is a young man of strong loyalty and a grim sense of +humour, this latter being a quality the police are not acquainted with. +However, Mr. Herbert _did_ confess to Miss Meredith that he was the +Burglar, but he made this confession, obviously, because she would +believe nothing else, and when a seeming necessity of protecting the +real Burglar was still uppermost in his mind. What he wanted was the +Girl. If the facts never came out he was all right; if they did come out +they would implicate one whom he was protecting, but through no fault of +his--therefore, he was still all right." + +"Bah!" exclaimed the Supreme Intelligence. "My experience has shown +that a man doesn't confess to a theft unless----" + +"So we may safely assume," The Thinking Machine continued almost +pleasantly, "that Mr. Herbert, by confessing the theft as a prank, +perhaps, won back Miss Meredith's confidence; that they planned an +elopement for the second time. A conversation Mr. Hatch had with Mr. +Herbert immediately after Mr. Herbert saw Miss Meredith practically +confirms it. Then, with matters in this shape, the real Burglar, to whom +I have accredited unusual powers, stole the plate the second time--we +know how." + +"Herbert stole it, you mean!" blazed Detective Mallory. + +"This theft came immediately on top of the reconciliation of Miss +Meredith and Mr. Herbert," The Thinking Machine went on steadily, +without heeding the remark by the slightest sign. "Therefore, it was +only natural that he should be the person most vitally interested in +seeing that the plate was again returned. He undertook to do this +himself. The result was that, where the police had failed, he found the +plate and a lot of jewels, took them from the Burglar, and was about to +return Mr. Randolph's property when the detectives walked in on him. +That is why he laughed." + +Detective Mallory arose from his seat and started to say something +impolite. The presence of Dollie Meredith choked the words back and he +swallowed hard. + +"Who then," he demanded after a couple of gulps--"who do you say is the +thief if Herbert is not?" + +The Thinking Machine glanced up into his face, then turned to Hatch. + +"Mr. Hatch, what is that name I asked you to get?" + +"George Francis Hayden," was the stammering reply, "but--but----" + +"Then George Francis Hayden is the thief," declared The Thinking Machine +emphatically. + +"But I--I started to say," Hatch blurted--"I started to say that George +Francis Hayden has been dead for two years." + +The Thinking Machine rose suddenly and glared at the reporter. There was +a tense silence, broken at last by a chuckle from Detective Mallory. + +"Dead?" repeated the scientist incredulously. "Do you _know_ that?" + +"Yes, I--I know it." + +The Thinking Machine stood for another moment squinting at him, then, +turning, left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Half an hour later The Thinking Machine walked in, unannounced, upon +Dick Herbert. The front door had not been locked; Blair was somewhere in +the rear. Herbert, in some surprise, glanced up at his visitor just in +time to see him plank himself down solidly into a chair. + +"Mr. Herbert," the scientist began, "I have gone out of my way to prove +to the police that you were not in the automobile with Miss Meredith, +and that you did not steal the gold plate found in your possession. Now, +I happen to know the name of the thief, and----" + +"And if you mention it to one living soul," Dick added suddenly, hotly, +"I shall forget myself and--and----" + +"His name is George Francis Hayden," the scientist continued. + +Dick started a little and straightened up; the menace dropped from him +and he paused to gaze curiously into the wizened face before him. After +a moment he drew a sigh of deep relief. + +"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Oh!" + +"I know that that isn't who you thought it was," resumed the other, "but +the fact remains that Hayden is the man with whom Miss Meredith +unwittingly eloped, and that Hayden is the man who actually stole the +plate and jewels. Further, the fact remains that Hayden----" + +"Is dead," Dick supplemented grimly. "You are talking through your----" +He coughed a little. "You are talking without any knowledge of what you +are saying." + +"He can't be dead," remarked the scientist calmly. + +"But he _is_ dead!" Dick insisted. + +"He can't be dead," snapped the other abruptly. "It's perfectly silly to +suppose such a thing. Why, I have proven absolutely, by the simplest +rules of logic, that he stole the gold plate, therefore he cannot be +dead. It's silly to say so." + +Dick wasn't quite certain whether to be angry or amused. He decided to +hold the matter in abeyance for the moment and see what other strange +thing would develop. + +"How long has he been dead?" continued the scientist. + +"About two years." + +"You _know_ it?" + +"Yes, I know it." + +"_How_ do you know it?" + +"Because I attended his funeral," was the prompt reply. Dick saw a +shadow of impatience flash into his visitor's face and instantly pass. + +"How did he die?" queried the scientist. + +"He was lost from his catboat," Dick answered. "He had gone out sailing, +alone, while in a bathing-suit. Several hours after the boat drifted in +on the tide without him. Two or three weeks later the body was +recovered." + +"Ah!" exclaimed The Thinking Machine. + +Then, for half an hour or so, he talked, and--as he went on, incisively, +pointedly, dramatically, even, at times--Dick Herbert's eyes opened +wider and wider. At the end he rose and gripped the scientist's slender +white fingers heartily in his own with something approaching awe in his +manner. Finally he put on his hat and they went out together. + +That evening at eight o'clock Detective Mallory, Hutchinson Hatch, Mr. +Randolph, Mr. Meredith, Mr. Greyton, and Dollie Meredith gathered in a +parlour of the Greyton home by request of The Thinking Machine. They +were waiting for something--no one knew exactly what. + +Finally there came a tinkle at the bell and The Thinking Machine +entered. Behind him came Dick Herbert, Dr. Clarence Walpole, and a +stranger. Mr. Meredith glanced up quickly at Herbert, and Dollie lifted +her chin haughtily with a stony stare which admitted of no compromise. +Dick pleaded for recognition with his eyes, but it was no use, so he sat +down where he could watch her unobserved. + +Singular expressions flitted over the countenance of the Supreme +Intelligence. Right here, now, he knew the earth was to be jerked out +from under him and he was not at all certain that there would be +anything left for him to cling to. This first impression was +strengthened when The Thinking Machine introduced Doctor Walpole with an +ostentatious squint at Mr. Mallory. The detective set his teeth hard. + +The Thinking Machine sat down, stretched out his slender legs, turned +his eyes upward, and adjusted his fingers precisely, tip to tip. The +others watched him anxiously. + +"We will have to go back a few years to get the real beginning of the +events which have culminated so strangely within the past week," he +said. "This was a close friendship of three young men in college. They +were Mr. Herbert here, a freshman, and Harry Meredith and George Francis +Hayden, juniors. This friendship, not an unusual one in college, was +made somewhat romantic by the young men styling themselves The Triangle. +They occupied the same apartments and were exclusive to a degree. Of +necessity Mr. Herbert was drawn from that exclusiveness, to a certain +extent by his participation in football." + +A germ of memory was working in Hatch's mind. + +"At someone's suggestion three triangular watch charms were made, +identical in every way save for initials on the back. They bore a symbol +which was meaningless except to The Triangle. They were made to order +and are, therefore, the only three of the kind in the world. Mr. Herbert +has one now on his watch chain, with his own initials; there is another +with the initials 'G. F. H.' in the lot of jewelry Mr. Mallory recovered +from Mr. Herbert. The third is worn by Harry Meredith, who is now in +Buenos Ayres. The American Consul there has confirmed, by cable, that +fact. + +"In the senior year the three young men of The Triangle were concerned +in the mysterious disappearance of a valuable diamond ring. It was +hushed up in college after it seemed established that Mr. Herbert was a +thief. Knowing his own innocence and seeing what seemed to be an +exclusive opportunity for Harry Meredith to have done what was charged, +Mr. Herbert laid the matter to him, having at that time an interview +with Harry's father. The result of that interview was more than ever to +convince Mr. Meredith of Mr. Herbert's guilt. As a matter of fact, the +thief in that case was George Francis Hayden." + +There were little murmurs of astonishment, and Mr. Meredith turned and +stared at Dick Herbert. Dollie gave him a little glance out of a corner +of her eye, smiled, then sat up primly. + +"This ended The Triangle," resumed the scientist. "A year or so later +Mr. Herbert met Miss Meredith. About two years ago George Francis Hayden +was reported drowned from his catboat. This was confirmed, apparently, +by the finding of his body, and an insurance company paid over a large +sum--I think it was $25,000--to a woman who said she was his wife. But +George Francis Hayden was not drowned; he is alive now. It was a +carefully planned fraud against the insurance company, and it succeeded. + +"This, then, was the situation on last Thursday--the night of the +masked ball at Seven Oaks--except that there had grown up a love affair +between Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert. Naturally, the father opposed +this because of the incident in college. Both Miss Meredith and Mr. +Herbert had invitations to that ball. It was an opportunity for an +elopement and they accepted it. Mr. Herbert sent word to her what +costume to wear; she did not know the nature of his. + +"On Thursday afternoon Miss Meredith sent her jewel-casket, with +practically all her jewels, to Mr. Herbert. She wanted them, naturally; +they probably planned a trip abroad. The maid in this house took the +casket and gave it into Mr. Herbert's own hands. Am I right?" He turned +squarely and squinted at Dollie. + +"Yes," she gasped quickly. She smiled distractingly upon her father and +he made some violent remarks to himself. + +"At this point, Fate, in the guise of a masked Burglar, saw fit to step +into the affair," the scientist went on after a moment. "About +nine-thirty, Thursday evening, while Mr. Herbert was alone, the masked +Burglar, George Francis Hayden, entered Mr. Herbert's house, possibly +thinking everyone was away. There, still masked, he met Mr. Herbert, +who--by something the Burglar said and by the triangular charm he +wore--recognised him as _Harry Meredith_. Remember, he thought he knew +George Francis Hayden was dead. + +"There were some words and a personal encounter between the two men. +George Francis Hayden fired a shot which struck Mr. Herbert in the right +shoulder--in front--took the jewel-casket in which Mr. Herbert had +placed his card of invitation to the ball, and went away, leaving Mr. +Herbert senseless on the floor." + +Dollie's face blanched suddenly and she gasped. When she glanced +involuntarily at Dick she read the love-light in his eyes, and her +colour returned with a rush. + +"Several hours later, when Mr. Herbert recovered consciousness," the +unruffled voice went on, "he went to Doctor Walpole, the nearest +physician, and there the bullet was extracted and the wound dressed. +The ball was thirty-two calibre?" + +Doctor Walpole nodded. + +"And Mr. Cunningham's revolver carried a thirty-eight," added the +scientist. "Now we go back to the Burglar. He found the invitation in +the casket, and the bold scheme, which later he carried out so +perfectly, came to him as an inspiration. He went to the ball just as he +was. Nerve, self-possession, and humour took him through. We know the +rest of that. + +"Naturally, in the circumstances, Mr. Herbert, believing that Harry +Meredith was the thief, would say nothing to bring disgrace upon the +name of the girl he loved. Instead, he saw Miss Meredith, who would not +accept his denial then, and in order to get her first--explanations +might come later--he confessed to the theft, whereupon they planned the +second elopement. + +"When Miss Meredith returned the plate by express there was no +anticipation of a second theft. Here is where we get a better +understanding of the mettle of the real Burglar--George Francis Hayden. +He went back and got the plate from Seven Oaks. Instantly that upset the +second elopement plan. Then Mr. Herbert undertook the search, got a +clew, followed it, and recovered not only the plate, but a great lot of +jewels." + +There was a pause. A skyrocket ascended in Hatch's mind and burst, +illuminating the whole tangled story. Detective Mallory sat dumbly, +thinking harsh words. Mr. Meredith arose, went over to Dick Herbert, and +solemnly shook his hand, after which he sat down again. Dollie smiled +charmingly. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"Now that is what actually happened," said The Thinking Machine, after a +little while. "How do I know it? Logic, logic, logic! The logical mind +can start from any given point and go backward or forward, with equal +facility, to a natural conclusion. This is as certain as that two and +two make four--not _sometimes_, but _all_ the time. + +"First in this case I had Mr. Hatch's detailed examination of each +circumstance. By an inspiration he connected Mr. Herbert and Miss +Meredith with the affair and talked to both before the police had any +knowledge at all of them. In other words, he reached at a bound what +they took days to accomplish. After the second theft he came to me and +related the story." + +The reporter blushed modestly. + +"Mr. Hatch's belief that the thing that had happened to Mr. Herbert and +Miss Meredith bore on the theft," resumed the scientist, "was +susceptible of confirmation or refutation in only one way, this being so +because of Mr. Herbert's silence--due to his loyalty. I saw that. But, +before I went further, I saw clearly what had actually happened _if_ I +presupposed that there _had_ been some connection. Thus came to me, I +may say here, the almost certain knowledge that Miss Meredith had a +brother, although I had never heard of him or her." + +He paused a little and twiddled his thumbs thoughtfully. + +"Suppose you give us just your line of reasoning," ventured Hatch. + +"Well, I began with the blood-stains in the automobile to either bring +Mr. Herbert into this affair or shut him out," replied the scientist. +"You know how I made the blood tests. They showed conclusively that the +blood on the cushion was not Mr. Herbert's. Remember, please, that, +although I knew Miss Meredith had been in the automobile, I also knew +she was not wounded; therefore the blood was that of someone else--the +man. + +"Now, I knew Mr. Herbert had been wounded--he wouldn't say how. If at +home, would he not go to the nearest physician? Probably. I got Doctor +Walpole's name from the telephone-book--he being nearest the Herbert +home--and sent Mr. Hatch there, where he learned of the wound in front, +and of the thirty-two calibre ball. I already knew the police revolvers +were thirty-eight calibre; therefore Mr. Herbert was not wounded while +in the automobile. + +"That removed Mr. Herbert as a possibility in the first theft, despite +the fact that his invitation-card was presented at the door. It was +reasonable to suppose that invitation had been stolen. Immediately after +the plate was returned by express, Mr. Herbert effected a reconciliation +with Miss Meredith. Because of this and for other reasons I could not +bring myself to see that he was a party to the second theft, as I knew +him to be innocent of the first. Yet, what happened to him? Why wouldn't +he say something? + +"All things must be imagined before they can be achieved; therefore +imagination is one of the most vital parts of the scientific brain. In +this instance I could only imagine why Mr. Herbert was silent. Remember, +he was shot and wouldn't say who did it. Why? If it had been an ordinary +thief--and I got the idea of a thief from the invitation-card being in +other hands than his--he would not have hesitated to talk. Therefore, it +was an _extraordinary_ thief in that it connected with something near +and dear to him. No one was nearer and dearer to him than Miss Meredith. +Did she shoot him? No. Did her father shoot him? Probably not, but +possibly. A brother? That began to look more reasonable. Mr. Herbert +would probably not have gone so far to protect one less near to her than +brother or father. + +"For the moment I assumed a brother, not knowing. How did Mr. Herbert +know this brother? Was it in his college days? Mr. Hatch brought me a +list of the students of three years before his graduating year and +there I found the name, Harry Meredith. You see, step by step, pure +logic was leading me to something tangible, definite. My next act was to +see Mr. Meredith and ask for the address of his son--an only son--whom +at that time I frankly believed was the real thief. But this son was in +South America. That startled me a little and brought me up against the +father as a possible thief. He was in Baltimore on that night. + +"I accepted that as true at the moment after some--er--some pleasant +words with Mr. Meredith. Then the question: Was the man who stole from +Mr. Herbert, probably entering his place and shooting him, masked? Mr. +Herbert said he was. I framed the question so as to bring Harry +Meredith's name into it, much to Mr. Herbert's alarm. How had he +recognised him as Harry Meredith? By something he said or wore? Mr. +Herbert replied in the affirmative--both. Therefore I had a masked +Burglar who could _not_ have been either Harry Meredith or Harry +Meredith's father. Who was he? + +"I decided to let Mr. Hatch look into that point for me, and went to see +Doctor Walpole. He gave me the bullet he had extracted from Mr. +Herbert's shoulder. Mr. Hatch, shortly after, rushed in on me with the +statement that Miss Meredith had admitted that Mr. Herbert had confessed +to her. I could see instantly _why_ he had confessed to her. Then Mr. +Hatch undertook for me the investigation of Herbert's and Harry +Meredith's career in college. He remembered part of it and unearthed the +affair of The Triangle and the theft of a diamond ring. + +"I had asked Mr. Hatch to find for me if Harry Meredith and Mr. Herbert +had had a mutual intimate in college. They had. George Francis Hayden, +the third member of the Triangle. Then the question seemed solved, but +Mr. Hatch upset everything when he said that Mr. Hayden was dead. I went +immediately to see Mr. Herbert. From him I learned that, although Mr. +Hayden was _supposed_ to be dead and buried, there was no positive proof +of it; the body recovered had been in the water three weeks and was +consequently almost unrecognisable. Therefore, the theft came inevitably +to Mr. Hayden. Why? Because the Burglar had been recognised by something +he said and wore. It would have been difficult for Mr. Herbert to +recognise a masked man so positively unless the masked man _wore_ +something he absolutely _knew_, or _said_ something he absolutely +_knew_. Mr. Herbert _thought_ with reason that the masked man was Harry +Meredith, but, with Harry Meredith in South America, the thief was +incontrovertibly George Francis Hayden. There was no going behind that. + +"After a short interview as to Hayden, during which Mr. Herbert told me +more of The Triangle and the three watch charms, he and I went out +investigating. He took me to the room where he had found the plate and +jewels--a place in an apartment-house which this gentleman manages." The +scientist turned to the stranger, who had been a silent listener. "He +identified an old photograph of George Francis Hayden as an occupant of +an apartment. + +"Mr. Herbert and I searched the place. My growing idea, based on the +established knavery of George Francis Hayden, that he was the real thief +in the college incident, was proven when I found this ring there--the +ring that was stolen at that time--with the initials of the owner in +it." + +The Thinking Machine produced the ring and offered it to Detective +Mallory, who had allowed the earth to slip away from him slowly but +surely, and he examined it with a new and absorbed interest. + +"Mr. Herbert and I learned of the insurance fraud in another +manner--that is, when we knew that George Francis Hayden was not dead, +we knew there had been a fraud. Mr. Hayden has been known lately as +Chester Goodrich. He has been missing since Mr. Herbert, in his absence, +recovered the plate and the jewels in his apartments. I may add that, up +to the day of the masked ball, he was protected from casual recognition +by a full beard. He is now clean-shaven." + +The Thinking Machine glanced at Mr. Mallory. + +"Your man--Downey, I think it was--did excellent work," he said, "in +tracing Miss Meredith from the time she left the automobile until she +returned home, and later leading you to Mr. Herbert. It was not strange +that you should have been convinced of his guilt when we consider the +goods found in his possession and also the wound in his shoulder. The +only trouble is he didn't get to the real insides of it." + +That was all. For a long time there was silence. Dollie Meredith's +pretty face was radiant and her eyes were fastened on her father. Mr. +Meredith glanced at her, cleared his throat several times, then arose +and offered his hand to Dick Herbert. + +"I have done you an injustice, sir," he said gravely. "Permit me to +apologise. I think perhaps my daughter----" + +That was superfluous. Dollie was already beside Dick, and a rousing, +smacking, resounding kiss echoed her father's words. Dick liked it some +and was ready for more, but Dollie impetuously flung her arms around +the neck of The Thinking Machine, and he--passed to his reward. + +"You dear old thing!" she gurgled. "You're just too sweet and cute for +anything." + +[Illustration] + +"Dear me! Dear me!" fussed The Thinking Machine. "Don't do that. It +annoys me exceedingly." + + * * * * * + +Some three months later, when the search for George Francis Hayden had +become only lukewarm, this being three days before Miss Meredith's +wedding to Dick Herbert, she received a small box containing a solitaire +ring and a note. It was brief: + + In memory of one night in the woods and of what happened + there, permit me to give this--you can't return it. It is one + of the few things honest money from me ever paid for. + + BILL, THE BURGLAR. + +While Dollie examined the ring with mingled emotions Dick stared at the +postmark on the package. + +"It's a corking good clew," he said enthusiastically. + +Dollie turned to him, recognising a menace in the words, and took the +paper which bore the postmark from his hands. + +"Let's pretend," she said gently--"let's pretend we don't know where it +came from!" + +Dick stared a little and kissed her. + + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Repaired obvious spelling and punctuation typos. Period spellings and +unusual grammatical usages retained. + +Both "waggon" and "wagon" were used in this text, consistent within +character voices--retained. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Chase of the Golden Plate, by Jacques Futrelle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE *** + +***** This file should be named 38981-8.txt or 38981-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/9/8/38981/ + +Produced by David Starner, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from images made available by the +HathiTrust Digital Library.) + + +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. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Chase of the Golden Plate + +Author: Jacques Futrelle + +Illustrator: Will Grefé + E. A. Poucher + +Release Date: February 25, 2012 [EBook #38981] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from images made available by the +HathiTrust Digital Library.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1>The Chase of the Golden Plate</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 406px;"> +<img src="images/ill01.jpg" width="406" height="600" alt=""'You really do not love him, anyway,' he ventured"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'You really do not love him, anyway,' he ventured"</span> +</div> + +<div class="hugeskip"></div> + +<h1> +The Chase of the<br /> +Golden Plate</h1> +<div class="bigskip"></div> + +<h2><small>By</small><br /><br /> +Jacques Futrelle</h2> +<div class="hugeskip"></div> + +<h3>With Illustrations by Will Grefé<br /> +and Decorations by E. A. Poucher</h3> + +<div class="hugeskip"></div> +<h3>New York<br /> +Dodd, Mead & Company<br /> +1906</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"> +<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1906, by</span><br /> +THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1906, by</span><br /> +DODD, MEAD & COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +<i>Published, October, 1906</i><br /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="center"> +To<br /> +<i>Three Women I Love</i>:</div> +<div class="medskip"></div> +<div class="center"> +<span class="smcap">Fama</span>,<br /> +and<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mayzie</span>,<br /> +and<br /> +<span class="smcap">Berta</span><br /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>The Chase of the Golden Plate</h1> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill02.jpg" width="400" height="196" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h2>PART I<br /><br /> + +THE BURGLAR AND THE GIRL</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p>Cardinal Richelieu and the Mikado stepped out on a narrow balcony +overlooking the entrance to Seven Oaks, lighted their cigarettes and +stood idly watching the throng as it poured up the wide marble steps. +Here was an over-corpulent Dowager Empress of China, there an Indian +warrior in full paint and toggery, and mincing along behind him two +giggling Geisha girls. Next, in splendid robes of rank, came the Czar of +Russia. The Mikado smiled.</p> + +<p>"An old enemy of mine," he remarked to the Cardinal.</p> + +<p>A Watteau Shepherdess was assisted out of an automobile by Christopher +Columbus and they came up the walk arm-in-arm, while a Pierrette ran +beside them laughing up into their faces. D'Artagnan, Athos, Aramis, and +Porthos swaggered along with insolent, clanking swords.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the Cardinal. "There are four gentlemen whom I know +well."</p> + +<p>Mary Queen of Scots, Pocahontas, the Sultan of Turkey, and Mr. Micawber +chatted amicably together in one language. Behind them came a figure +which immediately arrested attention. It was a Burglar, with dark +lantern in one hand and revolver in the other. A black mask was drawn +down to his lips, a slouch hat shaded his eyes, and a kit of the tools +of his profession swung from one shoulder.</p> + +<p>"By George!" commented the Cardinal. "Now, that's clever."</p> + +<p>"Looks like the real thing," the Mikado added.</p> + +<p>The Burglar stood aside a moment, allowing a diamond-burdened Queen +Elizabeth to pass, then came on up the steps. The Cardinal and the +Mikado passed through an open window into the reception-room to witness +his arrival.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 317px;"> +<img src="images/ill03.jpg" width="317" height="600" alt=""A figure which immediately arrested attention"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"A figure which immediately arrested attention"</span> +</div> +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<p>"Her Royal Highness, Queen Elizabeth!" the graven-faced servant +announced.</p> + +<p>The Burglar handed a card to the liveried Voice and noted, with obvious +amusement, a fleeting expression of astonishment on the stolid face. +Perhaps it was there because the card had been offered in that hand +which held the revolver. The Voice glanced at the name on the card and +took a deep breath of relief.</p> + +<p>"Bill, the Burglar!" he announced.</p> + +<p>There was a murmur of astonishment and interest in the reception-hall +and the ballroom beyond. Thus it was that the Burglar found himself the +centre of attention for a moment, while a ripple of laughter ran around. +The entrance of a Clown, bounding in behind him, drew all eyes away, +however, and the Burglar was absorbed in the crowd.</p> + +<p>It was only a few minutes later that Cardinal Richelieu and the Mikado, +seeking diversion, isolated the Burglar and dragged him off to the +smoking-room. There the Czar of Russia, who was on such terms of +intimacy with the Mikado that he called him Mike, joined them, and they +smoked together.</p> + +<p>"How did you ever come to hit on a costume like that?" asked the +Cardinal of the Burglar.</p> + +<p>The Burglar laughed, disclosing two rows of strong, white teeth. A cleft +in the square-cut, clean-shaven chin, visible below the mask, became +more pronounced. A woman would have called it a dimple.</p> + +<p>"I wanted something different," he explained. "I couldn't imagine +anything more extraordinary than a real burglar here ready to do +business, so I came."</p> + +<p>"It's lucky the police didn't see you," remarked the Czar.</p> + +<p>Again the Burglar laughed. He was evidently a good-natured craftsman, +despite his sinister garb.</p> + +<p>"That was my one fear—that I would be pinched before I arrived," he +replied. "'Pinched,' I may explain, is a technical term in my profession +meaning jugged, nabbed, collared, run in. It seemed that my fears had +some foundation, too, for when I drove up in my auto and stepped out a +couple of plain-clothes men stared at me pretty hard."</p> + +<p>He laid aside the dark lantern and revolver to light a fresh cigarette. +The Mikado picked up the lantern and flashed the light on and off +several times, while the Czar sighted the revolver at the floor.</p> + +<p>"Better not do that," suggested the Burglar casually. "It's loaded."</p> + +<p>"Loaded?" repeated the Czar. He laid down the revolver gingerly.</p> + +<p>"Surest thing, you know," and the Burglar laughed quizzically. "I'm the +real thing, you see, so naturally my revolver is loaded. I think I ought +to be able to make quite a good haul, as we say, before unmasking-time."</p> + +<p>"If you're as clever as your appearance would indicate," said the +Cardinal admiringly, "I see no reason why it shouldn't be worth while. +You might, for instance, make a collection of Elizabethan jewels. I +have noticed four Elizabeths so far, and it's early yet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll make it pay," the Burglar assured him lightly. "I'm pretty +clever; practised a good deal, you know. Just to show you that I am an +expert, here is a watch and pin I took from my friend, the Czar, five +minutes ago."</p> + +<p>He extended a well-gloved hand in which lay the watch and diamond pin. +The Czar stared at them a moment in frank astonishment; patted himself +all over in sudden trepidation; then laughed sheepishly. The Mikado +tilted his cigar up to a level with the slant eyes of his mask, and +laughed.</p> + +<p>"In the language of diplomacy, Nick," he told the Czar, "you are what is +known as 'easy.' I thought I had convinced you of that."</p> + +<p>"Gad, you are clever," remarked the Cardinal. "I might have used you +along with D'Artagnan and the others."</p> + +<p>The Burglar laughed again and stood up lazily.</p> + +<p>"Come on, this is stupid," he suggested. "Let's go out and see what's +doing."</p> + +<p>"Say, just between ourselves tell us who you are," urged the Czar. "Your +voice seems familiar, but I can't place you."</p> + +<p>"Wait till unmasking-time," retorted the Burglar good-naturedly. "Then +you'll know. Or if you think you could bribe that stone image who took +my card at the door you might try. He'll remember me. I never saw a man +so startled in all my life as he was when I appeared."</p> + +<p>The quartet sauntered out into the ballroom just as the signal for the +grand march was given. A few minutes later the kaleidoscopic picture +began to move. Stuyvesant Randolph, the host, as Sir Walter Raleigh, and +his superb wife, as Cleopatra, looked upon the mass of colour, and +gleaming shoulders, and jewels, and brilliant uniforms, and found it +good—extremely good.</p> + +<p>Mr. Randolph smiled behind his mask at the striking incongruities on +every hand: Queen Elizabeth and Mr. Micawber; Cardinal Richelieu and a +Pierrette; a Clown dancing attendance on Marie Antoinette. The Czar of +Russia paid deep and devoted attention to a light-footed Geisha girl, +while the Mikado and Folly, a jingling thing in bells and abbreviated +skirts, romped together.</p> + +<p>The grotesque figure of the march was the Burglar. His revolver was +thrust carelessly into a pocket and the dark lantern hung at his belt. +He was pouring a stream of pleasing nonsense into the august ear of Lady +Macbeth, nimbly seeking at the same time to evade the pompous train of +the Dowager Empress. The grand march came to an end and the chattering +throng broke up into little groups.</p> + +<p>Cardinal Richelieu strolled along with a Pierrette on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Business good?" he inquired of the Burglar.</p> + +<p>"Expect it to be," was the reply.</p> + +<p>The Pierrette came and, standing on her tip-toes—silly, impractical +sort of toes they were—made a <i>moue</i> at the Burglar.</p> + +<p>"Oooh!" she exclaimed. "You are perfectly horrid."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," retorted the Burglar.</p> + +<p>He bowed gravely, and the Cardinal, with his companion, passed on. The +Burglar stood gazing after them a moment, then glanced around the room, +curiously, two or three times. He might have been looking for someone. +Finally he wandered away aimlessly through the crowd.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill04.jpg" width="400" height="172" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p>Half an hour later the Burglar stood alone, thoughtfully watching the +dancers as they whirled by. A light hand fell on his arm—he started a +little—and in his ear sounded a voice soft with the tone of a caress.</p> + +<p>"Excellent, Dick, excellent!"</p> + +<p>The Burglar turned quickly to face a girl—a Girl of the Golden West, +with deliciously rounded chin, slightly parted rose-red lips, and +sparkling, eager eyes as blue as—as blue as—well, they were blue eyes. +An envious mask hid cheeks and brow, but above a sombrero was perched +arrogantly on crisp, ruddy-gold hair, flaunting a tricoloured ribbon. A +revolver swung at her hip—the wrong hip—and a Bowie knife, singularly +inoffensive in appearance, was thrust through her girdle. The Burglar +looked curiously a moment, then smiled.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 311px;"> +<img src="images/ill05.jpg" width="311" height="600" alt=""An envious mask hid cheeks and brow"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"An envious mask hid cheeks and brow"</span> +</div> +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<p>"How did you know me?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"By your chin," she replied. "You can never hide yourself behind a mask +that doesn't cover that."</p> + +<p>The Burglar touched his chin with one gloved hand.</p> + +<p>"I forgot that," he remarked ruefully.</p> + +<p>"Hadn't you seen me?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The Girl drew nearer and laid one hand lightly on his arm; her voice +dropped mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"Is everything ready?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he assured her quickly. His voice, too, was lowered +cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Did you come in the auto?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And the casket?"</p> + +<p>For an instant the Burglar hesitated.</p> + +<p>"The casket?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, the casket. Did you get it all right?"</p> + +<p>The Burglar looked at her with a new, businesslike expression on his +lips. The Girl returned his steady gaze for an instant, then her eyes +dropped. A faint colour glowed in her white chin. The Burglar suddenly +laughed admiringly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I got it," he said.</p> + +<p>She took a deep breath quickly, and her white hands fluttered a little.</p> + +<p>"We will have to go in a few minutes, won't we?" she asked uneasily.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Certainly before unmasking-time," she said, "because—because I think +there is someone here who knows, or suspects, that——"</p> + +<p>"Suspects what?" demanded the Burglar.</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-h-h!" warned the Girl, and she laid a finger on her lips. "Not so +loud. Someone might hear. Here are some people coming now that I'm +afraid of. They know me. Meet me in the conservatory in five minutes. I +don't want them to see me talking to you."</p> + +<p>She moved away quickly and the Burglar looked after her with admiration +and some impalpable quality other than that in his eyes. He was turning +away toward the conservatory when he ran into the arms of an oversized +man lumpily clad in the dress of a courtier. The lumpy individual stood +back and sized him up.</p> + +<p>"Say, young fellow, that's a swell rig you got there," he remarked.</p> + +<p>The Burglar glanced at him in polite astonishment—perhaps it was the +tone of the remark.</p> + +<p>"Glad you like it," he said coldly, and passed on.</p> + +<p>As he waited in the conservatory the amusement died out of his eyes and +his lips were drawn into a straight, sharp line. He had seen the lumpy +individual speak to another man, indicating generally the direction of +the conservatory as he did so. After a moment the Girl returned in deep +agitation.</p> + +<p>"We must go now—at once," she whispered hurriedly. "They suspect us. I +know it, I know it!"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so," said the Burglar grimly. "That's why that detective +spoke to me."</p> + +<p>"Detective?" gasped the Girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a detective disguised as a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if they are watching us what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>The Burglar glanced out, and seeing the man to whom the lumpy individual +had spoken coming toward the conservatory, turned suddenly to the Girl.</p> + +<p>"Do you really want to go with me?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she replied eagerly.</p> + +<p>"You are making no mistake?"</p> + +<p>"No, Dick, no!" she said again. "But if we are caught——"</p> + +<p>"Do as I say and we won't be caught," declared the Burglar. His tone now +was sharp, commanding. "You go on alone toward the front door. Pass out +as if to get a breath of fresh air. I'll follow in a minute. Watch for +me. This detective is getting too curious for comfort. Outside we'll +take the first auto and run for it."</p> + +<p>He thoughtfully whirled the barrel of his revolver in his fingers as he +stared out into the ballroom. The Girl clung to him helplessly a moment; +her hand trembled on his arm.</p> + +<p>"I'm frightened," she confessed. "Oh, Dick, if——"</p> + +<p>"Don't lose your nerve," he commanded. "If you do we'll both be caught. +Go on now, and do as I say. I'll come—but I may come in a hurry. Watch +for me."</p> + +<p>For just a moment more the Girl clung to his arm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dick, you darling!" she whispered. Then, turning, she left him +there.</p> + +<p>From the door of the conservatory the Burglar watched her splendid, +lithe figure as she threaded her way through the crowd. Finally she +passed beyond his view and he sauntered carelessly toward the door. Once +he glanced back. The lumpy individual was following slowly. Then he saw +a liveried servant approach the host and whisper to him excitedly.</p> + +<p>"This is my cue to move," the Burglar told himself grimly.</p> + +<p>Still watching, he saw the servant point directly at him. The host, with +a sudden gesture, tore off his mask and the Burglar accelerated his +pace.</p> + +<p>"Stop that man!" called the host.</p> + +<p>For one brief instant there was the dead silence which follows general +astonishment—and the Burglar ran for the door. Several pairs of hands +reached out from the crowd toward him.</p> + +<p>"There he goes, there!" exclaimed the Burglar excitedly. "That man +ahead! I'll catch him!"</p> + +<p>The ruse opened the way and he went through. The Girl was waiting at the +foot of the steps.</p> + +<p>"They're coming!" he panted as he dragged her along. "Climb in that last +car on the end there!"</p> + +<p>Without a word the Girl ran to the auto and clambered into the front +seat. Several men dashed out of the house. Wonderingly her eyes followed +the vague figure of the Burglar as he sped along in the shadow of a +wall. He paused beneath a window, picked up something and raced for the +car.</p> + +<p>"Stop him!" came a cry.</p> + +<p>The Burglar flung his burden, which fell at the Girl's feet with a +clatter, and leaped. The auto swayed as he landed beside her. With a +quick twist of the wheel he headed out.</p> + +<p>"Hurry, Dick, they're coming!" gasped the Girl.</p> + +<p>The motor beneath them whirred and panted and the car began to move.</p> + +<p>"Halt, or I'll fire," came another cry.</p> + +<p>"Down!" commanded the Burglar.</p> + +<p>His hand fell on the Girl's shoulder heavily and he dragged her below +the level of the seat. Then, bending low over the wheel, he gave the car +half power. It leaped out into the road in the path of its own light, +just as there came a pistol-shot from behind, followed instantly by +another.</p> + +<p>The car sped on.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill06.jpg" width="400" height="135" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p>Stuyvesant Randolph, millionaire, owner of Seven Oaks and host of the +masked ball, was able to tell the police only what happened, and not the +manner of its happening. Briefly, this was that a thief, cunningly +disguised as a Burglar with dark lantern and revolver in hand, had +surreptitiously attended the masked ball by entering at the front door +and presenting an invitation card. And when Mr. Randolph got this far in +his story even <i>he</i> couldn't keep his face straight.</p> + +<p>The sum total of everyone's knowledge, therefore, was this:</p> + +<p>Soon after the grand march a servant entered the smoking room and found +the Burglar there alone, standing beside an open window, looking out. +This smoking room connected, by a corridor, with a small dining room +where the Randolph gold plate was kept in ostentatious seclusion. As +the servant entered the smoking-room the Burglar turned away from the +window and went out into the ballroom. He did not carry a bundle; he did +not appear to be excited.</p> + +<p>Fifteen or twenty minutes later the servant discovered that eleven +plates of the gold service, valued roughly at $15,000, were missing. He +informed Mr. Randolph. The information, naturally enough, did not +elevate the host's enjoyment of the ball, and he did things hastily.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile—that is, between the time when the Burglar left the +smoking-room and the time when he passed out the front door—the Burglar +had talked earnestly with a masked Girl of the West. It was established +that, when she left him in the conservatory, she went out the front +door. There she was joined by the Burglar, and then came their +sensational flight in the automobile—a 40 horse-power car that moved +like the wind. The automobile in which the Burglar had gone to Seven +Oaks was left behind; thus far it had not been claimed.</p> + +<p>The identity of the Burglar and the Girl made the mystery. It was easy +to conjecture—that's what the police said—how the Burglar got away +with the gold plate. He went into the smoking-room, then into the +dining-room, dropped the gold plate into a sack and threw the sack out +of a window. It was beautifully simple. Just what the Girl had to do +with it wasn't very clear; perhaps a score or more articles of jewelry, +which had been reported missing by guests, engaged her attention.</p> + +<p>It was also easy to see how the Burglar and the Girl had been able to +shake off pursuit by the police in two other automobiles. The car they +had chosen was admittedly the fastest of the scores there, the night was +pitch-dark, and, besides, a Burglar like that was liable to do anything. +Two shots had been fired at him by the lumpy courtier, who was really +Detective Cunningham, but they had only spurred him on.</p> + +<p>These things were easy to understand. But the identity of the pair was a +different and more difficult proposition, and there remained the task of +yanking them out of obscurity. This fell to the lot of Detective +Mallory, who represented the Supreme Police Intelligence of the +Metropolitan District, happily combining a No. 11 shoe and a No. 6 hat. +He was a cautious, suspicious, far-seeing man—as police detectives go. +For instance, it was he who explained the method of the theft with a +lucidity that was astounding.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill07.jpg" width="400" height="182" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Detective Mallory and two or three of his satellites heard Mr. +Randolph's story, then the statements of his two men who had attended +the ball in costume, and the statements of the servants. After all this +Mr. Mallory chewed his cigar and thought violently for several minutes. +Mr. Randolph looked on expectantly; he didn't want to miss anything.</p> + +<p>"As I understand it, Mr. Randolph," said the Supreme Police Intelligence +at last, "each invitation-card presented at the door by your guests bore +the name of the person to whom it was issued?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Mr. Randolph.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the detective shrewdly. "Then we have a clue."</p> + +<p>"Where are those cards, Curtis?" asked Mr. Randolph of the servant who +had received them at the door.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know they were of further value, sir, and they were thrown +away—into the furnace."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mallory was crestfallen.</p> + +<p>"Did you notice if the card presented at the door by the Burglar on the +evening of the masked ball at Seven Oaks bore a name?" he asked. He +liked to be explicit like that.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. I noticed it particularly because the gentleman was dressed +so queerly."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the name?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Would you remember it if you saw it or heard it again?"</p> + +<p>The servant looked at Mr. Randolph helplessly.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I would, sir," he answered.</p> + +<p>"And the Girl? Did you notice the card she gave you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember her at all, sir. Many of the ladies wore wraps when +they came in, and her costume would not have been noticeable if she had +on a wrap."</p> + +<p>The Supreme Intelligence was thoughtful for another few minutes. At last +he turned to Mr. Randolph again.</p> + +<p>"You are certain there was only <i>one</i> man at that ball dressed as a +Burglar?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank Heaven," replied Mr. Randolph fervently. "If there'd been +another one they might have taken the piano."</p> + +<p>The Supreme Intelligence frowned.</p> + +<p>"And this girl was dressed like a Western girl?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. A sort of Spirit-of-the-West costume."</p> + +<p>"And no other woman there wore such a dress?"</p> + +<p>"No," responded Mr. Randolph.</p> + +<p>"No," echoed the two detectives.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Randolph, how many invitations were issued for the ball?"</p> + +<p>"Three or four hundred. It's a big house," Mr. Randolph apologised, "and +we tried to do the thing properly."</p> + +<p>"How many persons do you suppose actually attended the ball?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. Three hundred, perhaps."</p> + +<p>Detective Mallory thought again.</p> + +<p>"It's unquestionably the work of two bold and clever professional +crooks," he said at last judicially, and his satellites hung on his +words eagerly. "It has every ear-mark of it. They perhaps planned the +thing weeks before, and forged invitation-cards, or perhaps stole +them—perhaps stole them."</p> + +<p>He turned suddenly and pointed an accusing finger at the servant, +Curtis.</p> + +<p>"Did you notice the handwriting on the card the Burglar gave you?" he +demanded.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. Not particularly."</p> + +<p>"I mean, do you recall if it was different in any way from the +handwriting on the other cards?" insisted the Supreme Intelligence.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it was, sir."</p> + +<p>"If it had been would you have noticed it?"</p> + +<p>"I might have, sir."</p> + +<p>"Were the names written on all the invitation-cards by the same hand, +Mr. Randolph?"</p> + +<p>"Yes: my wife's secretary."</p> + +<p>Detective Mallory arose and paced back and forth across the room with +wrinkles in his brow.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said at last, "then we know the cards were not forged, but +stolen from someone to whom they had been sent. We know this much, +therefore——" he paused a moment.</p> + +<p>"Therefore all that must be done," Mr. Randolph finished the sentence, +"is to find from whom the card or cards were stolen, who presented them +at my door, and who got away with the plate."</p> + +<p>The Supreme Intelligence glared at him aggressively. Mr. Randolph's face +was perfectly serious. It was his gold plate, you know.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's it," Detective Mallory assented. "Now we'll get after this +thing right. Downey, you get that automobile the Burglar left at Seven +Oaks and find its owner; also find the car the Burglar and the Girl +escaped in. Cunningham, you go to Seven Oaks and look over the premises. +See particularly if the Girl left a wrap—she didn't wear one away from +there—and follow that up. Blanton, you take a list of invited guests +that Mr. Randolph will give you, check off those persons who are known +to have been at the ball, and find out all about those who were not, +and—follow that up."</p> + +<p>"That'll take weeks!" complained Blanton.</p> + +<p>The Supreme Intelligence turned on him fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he demanded. He continued to stare for a moment, and Blanton +wrinkled up in the baleful glow of his superior's scorn. "And," +Detective Mallory added magnanimously, "I will do the rest."</p> + +<p>Thus the campaign was planned against the Burglar and the Girl.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p>Hutchinson Hatch was a newspaper reporter, a long, lean, hungry looking +young man with an insatiable appetite for facts. This last was, perhaps, +an astonishing trait in a reporter; and Hatch was positively finicky on +the point. That's why his City Editor believed in him. If Hatch had come +in and told his City Editor that he had seen a blue elephant with pink +side-whiskers his City Editor would have <i>known</i> that that elephant was +blue—mentally, morally, physically, spiritually and everlastingly—not +any washed-out green or purple, but blue.</p> + +<p>Hatch was remarkable in other ways, too. For instance, he believed in +the use of a little human intelligence in his profession. As a matter of +fact, on several occasions he had demonstrated that it was really an +excellent thing—human intelligence. His mind was well poised, his +methods thorough, his style direct.</p> + +<p>Along with dozens of others Hatch was at work on the Randolph robbery, +and knew what the others knew—no more. He had studied the case so +closely that he was beginning to believe, strangely enough, that perhaps +the police were right in their theory as to the identity of the Burglar +and the Girl—that is, that they were professional crooks. He could do a +thing like that sometimes—bring his mind around to admit the +possibility of somebody else being right.</p> + +<p>It was on Saturday afternoon—two days after the Randolph affair—that +Hatch was sitting in Detective Mallory's private office at Police +Headquarters laboriously extracting from the Supreme Intelligence the +precise things he had not found out about the robbery. The +telephone-bell rang. Hatch got one end of the conversation—he couldn't +help it. It was something like this:</p> + +<p>"Hello!... Yes, Detective Mallory.... Missing?... What's her name?... +What?... Oh, Dorothy!... Yes?... Merritt?... Oh, Merryman!... Well, what +the deuce is it then?... <i>SPELL IT!</i>... M-e-r-e-d-i-t-h. Why didn't you +say that at first?... How long has she been gone?... Huh?... Thursday +evening?... What does she look like?... Auburn hair. Red, you mean?... +Oh, ruddy! I'd like to know what's the difference."</p> + +<p>The detective had drawn up a pad of paper and was jotting down what +Hatch imagined to be the description of a missing girl. Then:</p> + +<p>"Who is this talking?" asked the detective.</p> + +<p>There was a little pause as he got the answer, and, having the answer, +he whistled his astonishment, after which he glanced around quickly at +the reporter, who was staring dreamily out a window.</p> + +<p>"No," said the Supreme Intelligence over the 'phone. "It wouldn't be +wise to make it public. It isn't necessary at all. I understand. I'll +order a search immediately. No. The newspapers will get nothing of it. +Good-by."</p> + +<p>"A story?" inquired Hatch carelessly as the detective hung up the +receiver.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't amount to anything," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's obvious," remarked the reporter drily.</p> + +<p>"Well, whatever it is, it is not going to be made public," retorted the +Supreme Intelligence sharply. He never did like Hatch, anyway. "It's one +of those things that don't do any good in the newspapers, so I'll not +let this one get there."</p> + +<p>Hatch yawned to show that he had no further interest in the matter, and +went out. But there was the germ of an idea in his head which would have +startled Detective Mallory, and he paced up and down outside to develop +it. A girl missing! A red-headed girl missing! A red-headed girl missing +since Thursday! Thursday was the night of the Randolph masked ball. The +missing Girl of the West was red-headed! Mallory had seemed astonished +when he learned the name of the person who reported this last case! +Therefore the person who reported it was high up—perhaps! Certainly +high enough up to ask and receive the courtesy of police +suppression—and the missing girl's name was Dorothy Meredith!</p> + +<p>Hatch stood still for a long time on the curb and figured it out. +Suddenly he rushed off to a telephone and called up Stuyvesant Randolph +at Seven Oaks. He asked the first question with trepidation:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Randolph, can you give me the address of Miss Dorothy Meredith?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Meredith?" came the answer. "Let's see. I think she is stopping +with the Morgan Greytons, at their suburban place."</p> + +<p>The reporter gulped down a shout. "Worked, by thunder!" he exclaimed to +himself. Then, in a deadly, forced calm:</p> + +<p>"She attended the masked ball Thursday evening, didn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Well, she was invited."</p> + +<p>"You didn't see her there?"</p> + +<p>"No. Who <i>is</i> this?"</p> + +<p>Then Hatch hung up the receiver. He was nearly choking with excitement, +for, in addition to all those virtues which have been enumerated, he +possessed, too, the quality of enthusiasm. It was no part of his purpose +to tell anybody anything. Mallory didn't know, he was confident, +anything of the girl having been a possible guest at the ball. And what +Mallory didn't know now wouldn't be found out, all of which was a sad +reflection upon the detective.</p> + +<p>In this frame of mind Hatch started for the suburban place of the +Greytons. He found the house without difficulty. Morgan Greyton was an +aged gentleman of wealth and exclusive ideas—and wasn't in. Hatch +handed a card bearing only his name, to a maid, and after a few minutes +Mrs. Greyton appeared. She was a motherly, sweet-faced old lady of +seventy, with that grave, exquisite courtesy which makes mere man feel +ashamed of himself. Hatch had that feeling when he looked at her and +thought of what he was going to ask.</p> + +<p>"I came up direct from Police Headquarters," he explained +diplomatically, "to learn any details you may be able to give us as to +the disappearance of Miss Meredith."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Greyton. "My husband said he was going to ask +the police to look into the matter. It is most mysterious—most +mysterious! We can't imagine where Dollie is, unless she has eloped. Do +you know that idea keeps coming to me and won't go away?"</p> + +<p>She spoke as if it were a naughty child.</p> + +<p>"If you'll tell me something about Miss Meredith—who she is and all +that?" Hatch suggested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, to be sure," exclaimed Mrs. Greyton. "Dollie is a distant +cousin of my husband's sister's husband," she explained precisely. "She +lives in Baltimore, but is visiting us. She has been here for several +weeks. She's a dear, sweet girl, but I'm afraid—afraid she has eloped."</p> + +<p>The aged voice quivered a little, and Hatch was more ashamed of himself +than ever.</p> + +<p>"Some time ago she met a man named Herbert—Richard Herbert, I think, +and——"</p> + +<p>"Dick Herbert?" the reporter exclaimed suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Do you know the young gentleman?" inquired the old lady eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it just happens that we were classmates in Harvard," said the +reporter.</p> + +<p>"And is he a nice young man?"</p> + +<p>"A good, clean-cut, straightforward, decent man," replied Hatch. He +could speak with a certain enthusiasm about Dick Herbert. "Go on, +please," he urged.</p> + +<p>"Well, for some reason I don't know, Dollie's father objects to Mr. +Herbert's attentions to her—as a matter of fact, Mr. Meredith has +absolutely prohibited them—but she's a young, headstrong girl, and I +fear that, although she had outwardly yielded to her father's wishes, +she had clandestinely kept up a correspondence with Mr. Herbert. Last +Thursday evening she went out unattended and since then we have not +heard from her—not a word. We can only surmise—my husband and I—that +they have eloped. I know her father and mother will be heart-broken, but +I have always noticed that if a girl sets her heart on a man, she will +get him. And perhaps it's just as well that she <i>has</i> eloped now since +you assure me he is a nice young man."</p> + +<p>Hatch was choking back a question that rose in his throat. He hated to +ask it, because he felt this dear, garrulous old woman would have hated +him for it, if she could have known its purpose. But at last it came.</p> + +<p>"Do you happen to know," he asked, "if Miss Meredith attended the +Randolph ball at Seven Oaks on Thursday evening?"</p> + +<p>"I dare say she received an invitation," was the reply. "She receives +many invitations, but I don't think she went there. It was a costume +affair, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>The reporter nodded.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hardly believe she went there then," Mrs. Greyton replied. "She +has had no costume of any sort made. No, I am positive she has eloped +with Mr. Herbert, but I should like to hear from her to satisfy myself +and explain to her parents. We did not permit Mr. Herbert to come here, +and it will be very hard to explain."</p> + +<p>Hatch heard the slight rustle of a skirt in the hall and glanced toward +the door. No one appeared, and he turned back to Mrs. Greyton.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose it possible that Miss Meredith has returned to +Baltimore?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" was the positive reply. "Her father there telegraphed to her +to-day—I opened it—saying he would be here, probably to-night, and +I—I haven't the heart to tell him the truth when he arrives. Somehow, I +have been hoping that we would hear and—and——"</p> + +<p>Then Hatch took his shame in his hand and excused himself. The maid +attended him to the door.</p> + +<p>"How much is it worth to you to know if Miss Meredith went to the masked +ball?" asked the maid cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Eavesdropping, eh?" asked Hatch in disgust.</p> + +<p>The maid shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"How much is it worth?" she repeated.</p> + +<p>Hatch extended his hand. She took a ten-dollar bill which lay there and +secreted it in some remote recess of her being.</p> + +<p>"Miss Meredith did go to the ball," she said. "She went there to meet +Mr. Herbert. They had arranged to elope from there and she had made all +her plans. I was in her confidence and assisted her."</p> + +<p>"What did she wear?" asked Hatch eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Her costume was that of a Western Girl," the maid responded. "She wore +a sombrero, and carried a Bowie knife and revolver."</p> + +<p>Hatch nearly swallowed his palate.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p>Hatch started back to the city with his brain full of seven-column +heads. He thoughtfully lighted a cigar just before he stepped on the +car.</p> + +<p>"No smoking," said the conductor.</p> + +<p>The reporter stared at him with dull eyes and then went in and sat down +with the cigar in his mouth.</p> + +<p>"No smoking, I told you," bawled the conductor.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," exclaimed Hatch indignantly. He turned and glared at +the only other occupant of the car, a little girl. She wasn't smoking. +Then he looked at the conductor and awoke suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Miss Meredith is the girl," Hatch was thinking. "Mallory doesn't even +dream it and never will. He won't send a man out there to do what I did. +The Greytons are anxious to keep it quiet, and they won't say anything +to anybody else until they know what really happened. I've got it +bottled up, and don't know how to pull the cork. Now, the question is: +What possible connection can there be between Dorothy Meredith and the +Burglar? Was Dick Herbert the Burglar? Why, of course <i>not</i>! +Then—what?"</p> + +<p>Pondering all these things deeply, Hatch left the car and ran up to see +Dick Herbert. He was too self-absorbed to notice that the blinds of the +house were drawn. He rang, and after a long time a man-servant answered +the bell.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Herbert here?" Hatch asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, he's here," replied the servant, "but I don't know if he can +see you. He is not very well, sir."</p> + +<p>"Not very well?" Hatch repeated.</p> + +<p>"No, it's not that he's sick, sir. He was hurt and——"</p> + +<p>"Who is it, Blair?" came Herbert's voice from the top of the stair.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hatch, sir."</p> + +<p>"Come up, Hatch!" Dick called cordially. "Glad to see you. I'm so +lonesome here I don't know what to do with myself."</p> + +<p>The reporter ran up the steps and into Dick's room.</p> + +<p>"Not that one," Dick smiled as Hatch reached for his right hand. "It's +out of business. Try this one——" And he offered his left.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Hatch inquired.</p> + +<p>"Little hurt, that's all," said Dick. "Sit down. I got it knocked out +the other night and I've been here in this big house alone with Blair +ever since. The doctor told me not to venture out yet. It has been +lonesome, too. All the folks are away, up in Nova Scotia, and took the +other servants along. How are you, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>Hatch sat down and stared at Dick thoughtfully. Herbert was a +good-looking, forceful person of twenty-eight or thirty, and a corking +right-guard. Now he seemed a little washed out, and there was a sort of +pallor beneath the natural tan. He was a young man of family, unburdened +by superlative wealth, but possessing in his own person the primary +elements of success. He looked what Hatch had said of him: a "good, +clean-cut, straightforward, decent man."</p> + +<p>"I came up here to say something to you in my professional capacity," +the reporter began at last; "and frankly, I don't know how to say it."</p> + +<p>Dick straightened up in his chair with a startled expression on his +face. He didn't speak, but there was something in his eyes which +interested Hatch immensely.</p> + +<p>"Have you been reading the papers?" the reporter asked—"that is, during +the last couple of days?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Of course, then, you've seen the stories about the Randolph robbery?"</p> + +<p>Dick smiled a little.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "Clever, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It was," Hatch responded enthusiastically. "It was." He was silent for +a moment as he accepted and lighted a cigarette. "It doesn't happen," he +went on, "that, by any possible chance, you know anything about it, does +it?"</p> + +<p>"Not beyond what I saw in the papers. Why?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be frank and ask you some questions, Dick," Hatch resumed in a +tone which betrayed his discomfort. "Remember I am here in my official +capacity—that is, not as a friend of yours, but as a reporter. You need +not answer the questions if you don't want to."</p> + +<p>Dick arose with a little agitation in his manner and went over and stood +beside the window.</p> + +<p>"What is it all about?" he demanded. "What are the questions?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know where Miss Dorothy Meredith is?"</p> + +<p>Dick turned suddenly and glared at him with a certain lowering of his +eyebrows which Hatch knew from the football days.</p> + +<p>"What about her?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Where is she?" Hatch insisted.</p> + +<p>"At home, so far as I know. Why?"</p> + +<p>"She is not there," the reporter informed him, "and the Greytons believe +that you eloped with her."</p> + +<p>"Eloped with her?" Dick repeated. "She is not at home?"</p> + +<p>"No. She's been missing since Thursday evening—the evening of the +Randolph affair. Mr. Greyton has asked the police to look for her, and +they are doing so now, but quietly. It is not known to the +newspapers—that is, to other newspapers. Your name has not been +mentioned to the police. Now, isn't it a fact that you did intend to +elope with her on Thursday evening?"</p> + +<p>Dick strode feverishly across the room several times, then stopped in +front of Hatch's chair.</p> + +<p>"This isn't any silly joke?" he asked fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a fact that you did intend to elope with her on Thursday +evening?" the reporter went on steadily.</p> + +<p>"I won't answer that question."</p> + +<p>"Did you get an invitation to the Randolph ball?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Did you go?"</p> + +<p>Dick was staring straight down into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I won't answer that, either," he said after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Where were you on the evening of the masked ball?"</p> + +<p>"Nor will I answer that."</p> + +<p>When the newspaper instinct is fully aroused a reporter has no friends. +Hatch had forgotten that he ever knew Dick Herbert. To him the young man +was now merely a thing from which he might wring certain information for +the benefit of the palpitating public.</p> + +<p>"Did the injury to your arm," he went on after the approved manner of +attorney for the prosecution, "prevent you going to the ball?"</p> + +<p>"I won't answer that."</p> + +<p>"What is the nature of the injury?"</p> + +<p>"Now, see here, Hatch," Dick burst out, and there was a dangerous +undertone in his manner, "I shall not answer any more +questions—particularly that last one—unless I know what this is all +about. Several things happened on the evening of the masked ball that I +can't go over with you or anyone else, but as for me having any +personal knowledge of events at the masked ball—well, you and I are not +talking of the same thing at all."</p> + +<p>He paused, started to say something else, then changed his mind and was +silent.</p> + +<p>"Was it a pistol shot?" Hatch went on calmly.</p> + +<p>Dick's lips were compressed to a thin line as he looked at the reporter, +and he controlled himself only by an effort.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get that idea?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Hatch would have hesitated a long time before he told him where he got +that idea; but vaguely it had some connection with the fact that at +least two shots were fired at the Burglar and the Girl when they raced +away from Seven Oaks.</p> + +<p>While the reporter was rummaging through his mind for an answer to the +question there came a rap at the door and Blair appeared with a card. He +handed it to Dick, who glanced at it, looked a little surprised, then +nodded. Blair disappeared. After a moment there were footsteps on the +stairs and Stuyvesant Randolph entered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p>Dick arose and offered his left hand to Mr. Randolph, who calmly ignored +it, turning his gaze instead upon the reporter.</p> + +<p>"I had hoped to find you alone," he said frostily.</p> + +<p>Hatch made as if to rise.</p> + +<p>"Sit still, Hatch," Dick commanded. "Mr. Hatch is a friend of mine, Mr. +Randolph. I don't know what you want to say, but whatever it is, you may +say it freely before him."</p> + +<p>Hatch knew that humour in Dick. It always preceded the psychological +moment when he wanted to climb down someone's throat and open an +umbrella. The tone was calm, the words clearly enunciated, and the face +was white—whiter than it had been before.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't like to——" Mr. Randolph began.</p> + +<p>"You may say what you want to before Mr. Hatch, or not at all, as you +please," Dick went on evenly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Randolph cleared his throat twice and waved his hands with an +expression of resignation.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he replied. "I have come to request the return of my gold +plate."</p> + +<p>Hatch leaned forward in his chair, gripping its arms fiercely. This was +a question bearing broadly on a subject that he wanted to mention, but +he didn't know how. Mr. Randolph apparently found it easy enough.</p> + +<p>"What gold plate?" asked Dick steadily.</p> + +<p>"The eleven pieces that you, in the garb of a Burglar, took from my +house last Thursday evening," said Mr. Randolph. He was quite calm.</p> + +<p>Dick took a sudden step forward, then straightened up with flushed face. +His left hand closed with a snap and the nails bit into the flesh; the +fingers of the helpless right hand worked nervously. In a minute now +Hatch could see him climbing all over Mr. Randolph.</p> + +<p>But again Dick gained control of himself. It was a sort of recognition +of the fact that Mr. Randolph was fifty years old; Hatch knew it; Mr. +Randolph's knowledge on the subject didn't appear. Suddenly Dick +laughed.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mr. Randolph, and tell me about it," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"It isn't necessary to go into details," continued Mr. Randolph, still +standing. "I had not wanted to go this far in the presence of a third +person, but you forced me to do it. Now, will you or will you not return +the plate?"</p> + +<p>"Would you mind telling me just what makes you think I got it?" Dick +insisted.</p> + +<p>"It is as simple as it is conclusive," said Mr. Randolph. "You received +an invitation to the masked ball. You went there in your Burglar garb +and handed your invitation-card to my servant. He noticed you +particularly and read your name on the card. He remembered that name +perfectly. I was compelled to tell the story as I knew it to Detective +Mallory. I did not mention your name; my servant remembered it, had +given it to me in fact, but I forbade him to repeat it to the police. He +told them something about having burned the invitation-cards."</p> + +<p>"Oh, wouldn't that please Mallory?" Hatch thought.</p> + +<p>"I have not even intimated to the police that I have the least idea of +your identity," Mr. Randolph went on, still standing. "I had believed +that it was some prank of yours and that the plate would be returned in +due time. Certainly I could not account for you taking it in any other +circumstances. My reticence, it is needless to say, was in consideration +of your name and family. But now I want the plate. If it was a prank to +carry out the rôle of the Burglar, it is time for it to end. If the fact +that the matter is now in the hands of the police has frightened you +into the seeming necessity of keeping the plate for the present to +protect yourself, you may dismiss that. When the plate is returned to me +I shall see that the police drop the matter."</p> + +<p>Dick had listened with absorbed interest. Hatch looked at him from time +to time and saw only attention—not anger.</p> + +<p>"And the Girl?" asked Dick at last. "Does it happen that you have as +cleverly traced her?"</p> + +<p>"No," Mr. Randolph replied frankly. "I haven't the faintest idea who she +is. I suppose no one knows that but you. I have no interest further than +to recover the plate. I may say that I called here yesterday, Friday, +and asked to see you, but was informed that you had been hurt, so I went +away to give you opportunity to recover somewhat."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said Dick drily. "Awfully considerate."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. Hatch was listening with all the multitudinous +ears of a good reporter.</p> + +<p>"Now the plate," Mr. Randolph suggested again impatiently. "Do you deny +that you got it?"</p> + +<p>"I do," replied Dick firmly.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid you would, and, believe me, Mr. Herbert, such a course is +a mistaken one," said Mr. Randolph. "I will give you twenty-four hours +to change your mind. If, at the end of that time, you see fit to return +the plate, I shall drop the matter and use my influence to have the +police do so. If the plate is not returned I shall be compelled to turn +over all the facts to the police with your name."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" Dick demanded suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe so."</p> + +<p>"Then get out of here before I——" Dick started forward, then dropped +back into a chair.</p> + +<p>Mr. Randolph drew on his gloves and went out, closing the door behind +him.</p> + +<p>For a long time Dick sat there, seemingly oblivious of Hatch's presence, +supporting his head with his left hand, while the right hung down +loosely beside him. Hatch was inclined to be sympathetic, for, strange +as it may seem, some reporters have even the human quality of +sympathy—although there are persons who will not believe it.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything I can do?" Hatch asked at last. "Anything you want to +say?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," Dick responded wearily. "Nothing. You may think what you +like. There are, as I said, several things of which I cannot speak, +even if it comes to a question—a question of having to face the charge +of theft in open court. I simply <i>can't</i> say anything."</p> + +<p>"But—but——" stammered the reporter.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely not another word," said Dick firmly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p>Those satellites of the Supreme Police Intelligence of the Metropolitan +District who had been taking the Randolph mystery to pieces to see what +made it tick, lined up in front of Detective Mallory, in his private +office, at police headquarters, early Saturday evening. They did not +seem happy. The Supreme Intelligence placed his feet on the desk and +glowered; that was a part of the job.</p> + +<p>"Well, Downey?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I went out to Seven Oaks and got the automobile the Burglar left, as +you instructed," reported Downey. "Then I started out to find its owner, +or someone who knew it. It didn't have a number on it, so the job wasn't +easy, but I found the owner all right, all right."</p> + +<p>Detective Mallory permitted himself to look interested.</p> + +<p>"He lives at Merton, four miles from Seven Oaks," Downey resumed. "His +name is Blake—William Blake. His auto was in the shed a hundred feet or +so from his house on Thursday evening at nine o'clock. It wasn't there +Friday morning."</p> + +<p>"Umph!" remarked Detective Mallory.</p> + +<p>"There is no question but what Blake told me the truth," Downey went on. +"To me it seems provable that the Burglar went out from the city to +Merton by train, stole the auto and ran it on to Seven Oaks. That's all +there seems to be to it. Blake proved ownership of the machine and I +left it with him."</p> + +<p>The Supreme Intelligence chewed his cigar frantically.</p> + +<p>"And the other machine?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I have here a blood-stained cushion, the back of a seat from the car in +which the Burglar and the Girl escaped," continued Downey in a +walk-right-up-ladies-and-gentlemen sort of voice. "I found the car late +this afternoon at a garage in Pleasantville. We knew, of course, that it +belonged to Nelson Sharp, a guest at the masked ball. According to the +manager of the garage the car was standing in front of his place this +morning when he arrived to open up. The number had been removed."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill08.jpg" width="400" height="199" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Detective Mallory examined the cushion which Downey handed to him. +Several dark brown stains told the story—one of the occupants of the +car had been wounded.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's something," commented the Supreme Intelligence. "We know +now that when Cunningham fired at least one of the persons in the car +was hit, and we may make our search accordingly. The Burglar and the +Girl probably left the car where it was found during the preceding +night."</p> + +<p>"It seems so," said Downey. "I shouldn't think they would have dared to +keep it long. Autos of that size and power are too easily traced. I +asked Mr. Sharp to run down and identify the car and he did so. The +stains were new."</p> + +<p>The Supreme Intelligence digested that in silence while his satellites +studied his face, seeking some inkling of the convolutions of that +marvellous mind.</p> + +<p>"Very good, Downey," said Detective Mallory at last. "Now Cunningham?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Cunningham in shame and sorrow. "Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you find anything at all about the premises?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," repeated Cunningham. "The Girl left no wrap at Seven Oaks. +None of the servants remembers having seen her in the room where the +wraps were checked. I searched all around the place and found a dent in +the ground under the smoking-room window, where the gold plate had been +thrown, and there were what seemed to be footprints in the grass, but it +was all nothing."</p> + +<p>"We can't arrest a dent and footprints," said the Supreme Intelligence +cuttingly.</p> + +<p>The satellites laughed sadly. It was part of the deference they owed to +the Supreme Intelligence.</p> + +<p>"And you, Blanton?" asked Mr. Mallory. "What did you do with the list of +invited guests?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't got a good start yet," responded Blanton hopelessly. "There +are three hundred and sixty names on the list. I have been able to see +possibly thirty. It's worse than making a city directory. I won't be +through for a month. Randolph and his wife checked off a large number of +these whom they knew were there. The others I am looking up as rapidly +as I can."</p> + +<p>The detectives sat moodily thoughtful for uncounted minutes. Finally +Detective Mallory broke the silence.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 317px;"> +<img src="images/ill09.jpg" width="317" height="600" alt=""'The stains were new'"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'The stains were new'"</span> +</div> +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<p>"There seems to be no question but that any clew that might have come +from either of the automobiles is disposed of unless it is the fact that +we now know one of the thieves was wounded. I readily see how the +theft could have been committed by a man as bold as this fellow. Now we +must concentrate all our efforts to running down the invited guests and +learning just where they were that evening. All of you will have to get +on this job and hustle it. We know that the Burglar <i>did</i> present an +invitation-card with a name on it."</p> + +<p>The detectives went their respective ways and then Detective Mallory +deigned to receive representatives of the press, among them Hutchinson +Hatch. Hatch was worried. He knew a whole lot of things, but they didn't +do him any good. He felt that he could print nothing as it stood, yet he +would not tell the police, because that would give it to everyone else, +and he had a picture of how the Supreme Intelligence would tangle it if +he got hold of it.</p> + +<p>"Well, boys," said Detective Mallory smilingly, when the press filed in, +"there's nothing to say. Frankly, I will tell you that we have not been +able to learn anything—at least anything that can be given out. You +know, of course, about the finding of the two automobiles that figured +in the case, and the blood-stained cushion?"</p> + +<p>The press nodded collectively.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's all there is yet. My men are still at work, but I'm a +little afraid the gold plate will never be found. It has probably been +melted up. The cleverness of the thieves you can judge for yourself by +the manner in which they handled the automobiles."</p> + +<p>And yet Hatch was not surprised when, late that night, Police +Headquarters made known the latest sensation. This was a bulletin, based +on a telephone message from Stuyvesant Randolph to the effect that the +gold plate had been returned by express to Seven Oaks. This mystified +the police beyond description; but official mystification was as nothing +to Hatch's state of mind. He knew of the scene in Dick Herbert's room +and remembered Mr. Randolph's threat.</p> + +<p>"Then Dick <i>did</i> have the plate," he told himself.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p>Whole flocks of detectives, reporters, and newspaper artists appeared at +Seven Oaks early next morning. It had been too late to press an +investigation the night before. The newspapers had only time +telephonically to confirm the return of the plate. Now the investigators +unanimously voiced one sentiment: "Show us!"</p> + +<p>Hatch arrived in the party headed by Detective Mallory, with Downey and +Cunningham trailing. Blanton was off somewhere with his little list, +presumably still at it. Mr. Randolph had not come down to breakfast when +the investigators arrived, but had given his servant permission to +exhibit the plate, the wrappings in which it had come, and the string +wherewith it had been tied.</p> + +<p>The plate arrived in a heavy paper-board box, covered twice over with a +plain piece of stiff brown paper, which had no markings save the +address and the "paid" stamp of the express company. Detective Mallory +devoted himself first to the address. It was:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Mr. Stuyvesant Randolph</span>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Seven Oaks,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">via Merton.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>In the upper left-hand corner were scribbled the words:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From John Smith,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">State Street,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Watertown.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Detectives Mallory, Downey, and Cunningham studied the handwriting on +the paper minutely.</p> + +<p>"It's a man's," said Detective Downey.</p> + +<p>"It's a woman's," said Detective Cunningham.</p> + +<p>"It's a child's," said Detective Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Whatever it is, it is disguised," said Hatch.</p> + +<p>He was inclined to agree with Detective Cunningham that it was a woman's +purposely altered, and in that event—Great Cćsar! There came that flock +of seven-column heads again! And he couldn't open the bottle!</p> + +<p>The simple story of the arrival of the gold plate at Seven Oaks was told +thrillingly by the servant.</p> + +<p>"It was eight o'clock last night," he said. "I was standing in the hall +here. Mr. and Mrs. Randolph were still at the dinner table. They dined +alone. Suddenly I heard the sound of waggon-wheels on the granolithic +road in front of the house. I listened intently. Yes, it was +waggon-wheels."</p> + +<p>The detectives exchanged significant glances.</p> + +<p>"I heard the waggon stop," the servant went on in an awed tone. "Still I +listened. Then came the sound of footsteps on the walk and then on the +steps. I walked slowly along the hall toward the front door. As I did so +the bell rang."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ting-a-ling-a-ling, we know. Go on," Hatch interrupted +impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I opened the door," the servant continued. "A man stood there with a +package. He was a burly fellow. 'Mr. Randolph live here?' he asked +gruffly. 'Yes,' I said. 'Here's a package for him,' said the man. 'Sign +here.' I took the package and signed a book he gave me, and—and——"</p> + +<p>"In other words," Hatch interrupted again, "an expressman brought the +package here, you signed for it, and he went away?"</p> + +<p>The servant stared at him haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's it," he said coldly.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Mr. Randolph in person appeared. He glanced at Hatch +with a little surprise in his manner, nodded curtly, then turned to the +detectives.</p> + +<p>He could not add to the information the servant had given. His plate had +been returned, pre-paid. The matter was at an end so far as he was +concerned. There seemed to be no need of further investigation.</p> + +<p>"How about the jewelry that was stolen from your other guests?" demanded +Detective Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Of course, there's that," said Mr. Randolph. "It had passed out of my +mind."</p> + +<p>"Instead of being at an end this case has just begun," the detective +declared emphatically.</p> + +<p>Mr. Randolph seemed to have no further interest in the matter. He +started out, then turned back at the door, and made a slight motion to +Hatch which the reporter readily understood. As a result Hatch and Mr. +Randolph were closeted together in a small room across the hall a few +minutes later.</p> + +<p>"May I ask your occupation, Mr. Hatch?" inquired Mr. Randolph.</p> + +<p>"I'm a reporter," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"A reporter?" Mr. Randolph seemed surprised. "Of course, when I saw you +in Mr. Herbert's rooms," he went on after a little pause, "I met you +only as his friend. You saw what happened there. Now, may I ask you what +you intend to publish about this affair?"</p> + +<p>Hatch considered the question a moment. There seemed to be no objection +to telling.</p> + +<p>"I can't publish anything until I know everything, or until the police +act," he confessed frankly. "I had been talking to Dick Herbert in a +general way about this case when you arrived yesterday. I knew several +things, or thought I did, that the police do not even suspect. But, of +course, I can print only just what the police know and say."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of that—very glad of it," said Mr. Randolph. "It seems to +have been a freak of some sort on Mr. Herbert's part, and, candidly, I +can't understand it. Of course he returned the plate, as I knew he +would."</p> + +<p>"Do you really believe he is the man who came here as the Burglar?" +asked Hatch curiously.</p> + +<p>"I should not have done what you saw me do if I had not been absolutely +certain," Mr. Randolph explained. "One of the things, particularly, that +was called to my attention—I don't know that you know of it—is the +fact that the Burglar had a cleft in his chin. You know, of course, that +Mr. Herbert has such a cleft. Then there is the invitation-card with his +name. Everything together makes it conclusive."</p> + +<p>Mr. Randolph and the reporter shook hands. Three hours later the press +and police had uncovered the Watertown end of the mystery as to how the +express package had been sent. It was explained by the driver of an +express waggon there and absorbed by greedily listening ears.</p> + +<p>"The boss told me to call at No. 410 State Street and get a bundle," the +driver explained. "I think somebody telephoned to him to send the +waggon. I went up there yesterday morning. It's a small house, back a +couple of hundred feet from the street, and has a stone fence around it. +I opened the gate, went in, and rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"No one answered the first ring, and I rang again. Still nobody answered +and I tried the door. It was locked. I walked around the house, thinking +there might be somebody in the back, but it was all locked up. I figured +as how the folks that had telephoned for me wasn't in, and started out +to my waggon, intending to stop by later.</p> + +<p>"Just as I got to the gate, going out, I saw a package set down inside, +hidden from the street behind the stone fence, with a dollar bill on it. +I just naturally looked at it. It was the package directed to Mr. +Randolph. I reasoned as how the folks who 'phoned had to go out and left +the package, so I took it along. I made out a receipt to John Smith, the +name that was in the corner, and pinned it to a post, took the package +and the money and went along. That's all."</p> + +<p>"You don't know if the package was there when you went in?" he was +asked.</p> + +<p>"I dunno. I didn't look. I couldn't help but see it when I came out, so +I took it."</p> + +<p>Then the investigators sought out "the boss."</p> + +<p>"Did the person who 'phoned give you a name?" inquired Detective +Mallory.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't ask for one."</p> + +<p>"Was it a man or a woman talking?"</p> + +<p>"A man," was the unhesitating reply. "He had a deep, heavy voice."</p> + +<p>The investigators trailed away, dismally despondent, toward No. 410 +State Street. It was unoccupied; inquiry showed that it had been +unoccupied for months. The Supreme Intelligence picked the lock and the +investigators walked in, craning their necks. They expected, at the +least, to find a thieves' rendezvous. There was nothing but dirt, and +dust, and grime. Then the investigators returned to the city. They had +found only that the gold plate had been returned, and they knew that +when they started.</p> + +<p>Hatch went home and sat down with his head in his hands to add up all he +didn't know about the affair. It was surprising how much there was of +it.</p> + +<p>"Dick Herbert either did or didn't go to the ball," he soliloquised. +"<i>Something</i> happened to him that evening. He either did or didn't steal +the gold plate, and every circumstance indicates that he did—which, of +course, he didn't. Dorothy Meredith either was or was not at the ball. +The maid's statement shows that she was, yet no one there recognised +her—which indicates that she wasn't. She either did or didn't run away +with somebody in an automobile. Anyhow, something happened to <i>her</i>, +because she's missing. The gold plate is stolen, and the gold plate is +back. I know <i>that</i>, thank Heaven! And now, knowing more about this +affair than any other single individual, I don't know <i>anything</i>."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>PART II<br /><br /> + +THE GIRL AND THE PLATE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p>Low-bent over the steering-wheel, the Burglar sent the automobile +scuttling breathlessly along the flat road away from Seven Oaks. At the +first shot he crouched down in the seat, dragging the Girl with him; at +the second, he winced a little and clenched his teeth tightly. The car's +headlights cut a dazzling pathway through the shadows, and trees flitted +by as a solid wall. The shouts of pursuers were left behind, and still +the Girl clung to his arm.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that," he commanded abruptly. "You'll make me smash into +something."</p> + +<p>"Why, Dick, they shot at us!" she protested indignantly.</p> + +<p>The Burglar glanced at her, and, when he turned his eyes to the smooth +road again, there was a flicker of a smile about the set lips.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I had some such impression myself," he acquiesced grimly.</p> + +<p>"Why, they might have killed us!" the Girl went on.</p> + +<p>"It is just barely possible that they had some such absurd idea when +they shot," replied the Burglar. "Guess you never got caught in a pickle +like this before?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly never did!" replied the Girl emphatically.</p> + +<p>The whir and grind of their car drowned other sounds—sounds from +behind—but from time to time the Burglar looked back, and from time to +time he let out a new notch in the speed-regulator. Already the pace was +terrific, and the Girl bounced up and down beside him at each trivial +irregularity in the road, while she clung frantically to the seat.</p> + +<p>"Is it necessary to go so awfully fast?" she gasped at last.</p> + +<p>The wind was beating on her face, her mask blew this way and that; the +beribboned sombrero clung frantically to a fast-failing strand of ruddy +hair. She clutched at the hat and saved it, but her hair tumbled down +about her shoulders, a mass of gold, and floated out behind.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she chattered, "I can't keep my hat on!"</p> + +<p>The Burglar took another quick look behind, then his foot went out +against the speed-regulator and the car fairly leaped with suddenly +increased impetus. The regulator was in the last notch now, and the car +was one that had raced at Ormonde Beach.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" exclaimed the Girl again. "Can't you go a little slower?"</p> + +<p>"Look behind," directed the Burglar tersely.</p> + +<p>She glanced back and gave a little cry. Two giant eyes stared at her +from a few hundred yards away as another car swooped along in pursuit, +and behind this ominously glittering pair was still another.</p> + +<p>"They're chasing us, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"They are," replied the Burglar grimly, "but if these tires hold, they +haven't got a chance. A breakdown would——" He didn't finish the +sentence. There was a sinister note in his voice, but the Girl was still +looking back and did not heed it. To her excited imagination it seemed +that the giant eyes behind were creeping up, and again she clutched the +Burglar's arm.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that, I say," he commanded again.</p> + +<p>"But, Dick, they mustn't catch us—they mustn't!"</p> + +<p>"They won't."</p> + +<p>"But if they should——"</p> + +<p>"They won't," he repeated.</p> + +<p>"It would be perfectly awful!"</p> + +<p>"Worse than that."</p> + +<p>For a time the Girl silently watched him bending over the wheel, and a +singular feeling of security came to her. Then the car swept around a +bend in the road, careening perilously, and the glaring eyes were lost. +She breathed more freely.</p> + +<p>"I never knew you handled an auto so well," she said admiringly.</p> + +<p>"I do lots of things people don't know I do," he replied. "Are those +lights still there?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank goodness!"</p> + +<p>The Burglar touched a lever with his left hand and the whir of the +machine became less pronounced. After a moment it began to slow down. +The Girl noticed it and looked at him with new apprehension.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we're stopping!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I know it."</p> + +<p>They ran on for a few hundred feet; then the Burglar set the brake and, +after a deal of jolting, the car stopped. He leaped out and ran around +behind. As the Girl watched him uneasily there came a sudden crash and +the auto trembled a little.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"I smashed that tail lamp," he answered. "They can see it, and it's too easy for them to follow."</p> + +<p>He stamped on the shattered fragments in the road, then came around to +the side to climb in again, extending his left hand to the Girl.</p> + +<p>"Quick, give me your hand," he requested.</p> + +<p>She did so wonderingly and he pulled himself into the seat beside her +with a perceptible effort. The car shivered, then started on again, +slowly at first, but gathering speed each moment. The Girl was staring +at her companion curiously, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt?" she asked at last.</p> + +<p>He did not answer at the moment, not until the car had regained its +former speed and was hurtling headlong through the night.</p> + +<p>"My right arm's out of business," he explained briefly, then: "I got +that second bullet in the shoulder."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dick, Dick," she exclaimed, "and you hadn't said anything about it! +You need assistance!"</p> + +<p>A sudden rush of sympathy caused her to lay her hands again on his left +arm. He shook them off roughly with something like anger in his manner.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that!" he commanded for the third time. "You'll make me smash +hell out of this car."</p> + +<p>Startled by the violence of his tone, she recoiled dumbly, and the car +swept on. As before, the Burglar looked back from time to time, but the +lights did not reappear. For a long time the Girl was silent and finally +he glanced at her.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I didn't mean to speak so sharply, +but—but it's true."</p> + +<p>"It's really of no consequence," she replied coldly. "I am sorry—very +sorry."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it might be as well for you to stop the car and let me out," +she went on after a moment.</p> + +<p>The Burglar either didn't hear or wouldn't heed. The dim lights of a +small village rose up before them, then faded away again; a dog barked +lonesomely beside the road. The streaming lights of their car revealed a +tangle of crossroads just ahead, offering a definite method of shaking +off pursuit. Their car swerved widely, and the Burglar's attention was +centred on the road ahead.</p> + +<p>"Does your arm pain you?" asked the Girl at last timidly.</p> + +<p>"No," he replied shortly. "It's a sort of numbness. I'm afraid I'm +losing blood, though."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't we better go back to the village and see a doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Not <i>this</i> evening," he responded promptly in a tone which she did not +understand. "I'll stop somewhere soon and bind it up."</p> + +<p>At last, when the village was well behind, the car came to a dark little +road which wandered off aimlessly through a wood, and the Burglar slowed +down to turn into it. Once in the shelter of the overhanging branches +they proceeded slowly for a hundred yards or more, finally coming to a +standstill.</p> + +<p>"We must do it here," he declared.</p> + +<p>He leaped from the car, stumbled and fell. In an instant the Girl was +beside him. The reflected light from the auto showed her dimly that he +was trying to rise, showed her the pallor of his face where the chin +below the mask was visible.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it's pretty bad," he said weakly. Then he fainted.</p> + +<p>The Girl, stooping, raised his head to her lap and pressed her lips to +his feverishly, time after time.</p> + +<p>"Dick, Dick!" she sobbed, and tears fell upon the Burglar's sinister +mask.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p>When the Burglar awoke to consciousness he was as near heaven as any +mere man ever dares expect to be. He was comfortable—quite +comfortable—wrapped in a delicious, languorous lassitude which forbade +him opening his eyes to realisation. A woman's hand lay on his forehead, +caressingly, and dimly he knew that another hand cuddled cosily in one +of his own. He lay still, trying to remember, before he opened his eyes. +Someone beside him breathed softly, and he listened, as if to music.</p> + +<p>Gradually the need of action—just what action and to what purpose did +not occur to him—impressed itself on his mind. He raised the disengaged +hand to his face and touched the mask, which had been pushed back on his +forehead. Then he recalled the ball, the shot, the chase, the hiding in +the woods. He opened his eyes with a start. Utter darkness lay about +him—for a moment he was not certain whether it was the darkness of +blindness or of night.</p> + +<p>"Dick, are you awake?" asked the Girl softly.</p> + +<p>He knew the voice and was content.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered languidly.</p> + +<p>He closed his eyes again and some strange, subtle perfume seemed to +envelop him. He waited. Warm lips were pressed to his own, thrilling him +strangely, and the Girl rested a soft cheek against his.</p> + +<p>"We have been very foolish, Dick," she said, sweetly chiding, after a +moment. "It was all my fault for letting you expose yourself to danger, +but I didn't dream of such a thing as this happening. I shall never +forgive myself, because——"</p> + +<p>"But——" he began protestingly.</p> + +<p>"Not another word about it now," she hurried on. "We must go very soon. +How do you feel?"</p> + +<p>"I'm all right, or will be in a minute," he responded, and he made as if +to rise. "Where is the car?"</p> + +<p>"Right here. I extinguished the lights and managed to stop the engine +for fear those horrid people who were after us might notice."</p> + +<p>"Good girl!"</p> + +<p>"When you jumped out and fainted I jumped out, too. I'm afraid I was not +very clever, but I managed to bind your arm. I took my handkerchief and +pressed it against the wound after ripping your coat, then I bound it +there. It stopped the flow of blood, but, Dick, dear, you must have +medical attention just as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>The Burglar moved his shoulder a little and winced.</p> + +<p>"Just as soon as I did that," the Girl went on, "I made you comfortable +here on a cushion from the car."</p> + +<p>"Good girl!" he said again.</p> + +<p>"Then I sat down to wait until you got better. I had no stimulant or +anything, and I didn't dare to leave you, so—so I just waited," she +ended with a weary little sigh.</p> + +<p>"How long was I knocked out?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; half an hour, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"The bag is all right, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"The bag?"</p> + +<p>"The bag with the stuff—the one I threw in the car when we started?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I suppose so! Really, I hadn't thought of it."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't thought of it?" repeated the Burglar, and there was a trace of +astonishment in his voice. "By George, you're a wonder!" he added.</p> + +<p>He started to get on his feet, then dropped back weakly.</p> + +<p>"Say, girlie," he requested, "see if you can find the bag in the car +there and hand it out. Let's take a look."</p> + +<p>"Where is it?"</p> + +<p>"Somewhere in front. I felt it at my feet when I jumped out."</p> + +<p>There was a rustle of skirts in the darkness, and after a moment a faint +muffled clank as of one heavy metal striking dully against another.</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" exclaimed the Girl. "It's heavy enough. What's in it?"</p> + +<p>"What's in it?" repeated the Burglar, and he chuckled. "A fortune, +nearly. It's worth being punctured for. Let me see."</p> + +<p>In the darkness he took the bag from her hands and fumbled with it a +moment. She heard the metallic sound again and then several heavy +objects were poured out on the ground.</p> + +<p>"A good fourteen pounds of pure gold," commented the Burglar. "By +George, I haven't but one match, but we'll see what it's like."</p> + +<p>The match was struck, sputtered for a moment, then flamed up, and the +Girl, standing, looked down upon the Burglar on his knees beside a heap +of gold plate. She stared at the glittering mass as if fascinated, and +her eyes opened wide.</p> + +<p>"Why, Dick, what is that?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It's Randolph's plate," responded the Burglar complacently. "I don't +know how much it's worth, but it must be several thousands, on dead +weight."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing with it?"</p> + +<p>"What am I doing with it?" repeated the Burglar. He was about to look up +when the match burned his finger and he dropped it. "That's a silly +question."</p> + +<p>"But how came it in your possession?" the Girl insisted.</p> + +<p>"I acquired it by the simple act of—of dropping it into a bag and +bringing it along. That and you in the same evening——" He stretched +out a hand toward her, but she was not there. He chuckled a little as he +turned and picked up eleven plates, one by one, and replaced them in the +bag.</p> + +<p>"Nine—ten—eleven," he counted. "What luck did <i>you</i> have?"</p> + +<p>"Dick Herbert, explain to me, please, what you are doing with that gold +plate?" There was an imperative command in the voice.</p> + +<p>The Burglar paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm taking it to have it fixed!" he responded lightly.</p> + +<p>"Fixed? Taking it this way at this time of the night?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 403px;"> +<img src="images/ill10.jpg" width="403" height="600" alt=""'It must be several thousands, on dead weight'"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'It must be several thousands, on dead weight'"</span> +</div> + +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<p>"Sure," and he laughed pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"You mean you—you—you <i>stole</i> it?" The words came with an effort.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd hardly call it that," remarked the Burglar. "That's a harsh +word. Still, it's in my possession; it wasn't given to me, and I didn't +buy it. You may draw your own conclusions."</p> + +<p>The bag lay beside him and his left hand caressed it idly, lovingly. For +a long time there was silence.</p> + +<p>"What luck did <i>you</i> have?" he asked again.</p> + +<p>There was a startled gasp, a gurgle and accusing indignation in the +Girl's low, tense voice.</p> + +<p>"You—you <i>stole</i> it!"</p> + +<p>"Well, if you prefer it that way—yes."</p> + +<p>The Burglar was staring steadily into the darkness toward that point +whence came the voice, but the night was so dense that not a trace of +the Girl was visible. He laughed again.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me it was lucky I decided to take it at just this time and +in these circumstances," he went on tauntingly—"lucky for you, I mean. +If I hadn't been there you would have been caught."</p> + +<p>Again came the startled gasp.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" demanded the Burglar sharply, after another +silence. "Why don't you say something?"</p> + +<p>He was still peering unseeingly into the darkness. The bag of gold plate +moved slightly under his hand. He opened his fingers to close them more +tightly. It was a mistake. The bag was drawn away; his hand +grasped—air.</p> + +<p>"Stop that game now!" he commanded angrily. "Where are you?"</p> + +<p>He struggled to his feet. His answer was the crackling of a twig to his +right. He started in that direction and brought up with a bump against +the automobile. He turned, still groping blindly, and embraced a tree +with undignified fervour. To his left he heard another slight noise and +ran that way. Again he struck an obstacle. Then he began to say things, +expressive things, burning things from the depths of an impassioned +soul. The treasure had gone—disappeared into the shadows. The Girl was +gone. He called, there was no answer. He drew his revolver fiercely, +then reconsidered and flung it down angrily.</p> + +<p>"And I thought <i>I</i> had nerve!" he declared. It was a compliment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p>Extravagantly brilliant the sun popped up out of the east—not an +unusual occurrence—and stared unblinkingly down upon a country road. +There were the usual twittering birds and dew-spangled trees and nodding +wild-flowers; also a dust that was shoe-top deep. The dawny air stirred +lazily and rustling leaves sent long, sinuous shadows scampering back +and forth.</p> + +<p>Looking upon it all without enthusiasm or poetic exaltation was a +Girl—a pretty Girl—a very pretty Girl. She sat on a stone beside the +yellow roadway, a picture of weariness. A rough burlap sack, laden +heavily, yet economically as to space, wallowed in the dust beside her. +Her hair was tawny gold, and rebellious strands drooped listlessly about +her face. A beribboned sombrero lay in her lap, supplementing a certain +air of dilapidated bravado, due in part to a short skirt, heavy gloves +and boots, a belt with a knife and revolver.</p> + +<p>A robin, perched impertinently on a stump across the road, examined her +at his leisure. She stared back at Signor Redbreast, and for this +recognition he warbled a little song.</p> + +<p>"I've a good mind to cry!" exclaimed the Girl suddenly.</p> + +<p>Shamed and startled, the robin flew away. A mistiness came into the +Girl's blue eyes and lingered there a moment, then her white teeth +closed tightly and the glimmer of outraged emotion passed.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she sighed again, "I'm so tired and hungry and I just know I'll +never get anywhere at all!"</p> + +<p>But despite the expressed conviction she arose and straightened up as if +to resume her journey, turning to stare down at the bag. It was an +unsightly symbol of blasted hopes, man's perfidy, crushed aspirations +and—Heaven only knows what besides.</p> + +<p>"I've a good mind to leave you right there," she remarked to the bag +spitefully. "Perhaps I might hide it." She considered the question. "No, +that wouldn't do. I must take it with me—and—and—Oh, Dick! Dick! +What in the world was the matter with you, anyway?"</p> + +<p>Then she sat down again and wept. The robin crept back to look and +modestly hid behind a leaf. From this coign of vantage he watched her as +she again arose and plodded off through the dust with the bag swinging +over one shoulder. At last—there is an at last to everything—a small +house appeared from behind a clump of trees. The Girl looked with +incredulous eyes. It was really a house. Really! A tiny curl of smoke +hovered over the chimney.</p> + +<p>"Well, thank goodness, I'm somewhere, anyhow," she declared with her +first show of enthusiasm. "I can get a cup of coffee or something."</p> + +<p>She covered the next fifty yards with a new spring in her leaden heels +and with a new and firmer grip on the precious bag. Then—she stopped.</p> + +<p>"Gracious!" and perplexed lines suddenly wrinkled her brow. "If I should +go in there with a pistol and a knife they'd think I was a +brigand—or—or a thief, and I suppose I am," she added as she stopped +and rested the bag on the ground. "At least I have stolen goods in my +possession. Now, what shall I say if they ask questions? What am I? +They wouldn't believe me if I told them really. Short skirt, boots and +gloves: I know! I'm a bicyclist. My wheel broke down, and——"</p> + +<p>Whereupon she gingerly removed the revolver from her belt and flung it +into the underbrush—not at all in the direction she had intended—and +the knife followed to keep it company. Having relieved herself of these +sinister things, she straightened her hat, pushed back the rebellious +hair, yanked at her skirt, and walked bravely up to the little house.</p> + +<p>An Angel lived there—an Angel in a dizzily beflowered wrapper and a +crabbed exterior. She listened to a rapidly constructed and wholly +inconsistent story of a bicycle accident, which ended with a plea for a +cup of coffee. Silently she proceeded to prepare it. After the pot was +bubbling cheerfully and eggs had been put on and biscuits thrust into a +stove to be warmed over, the Angel sat down at the table opposite the +Girl.</p> + +<p>"Book agent?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" replied the Girl.</p> + +<p>"Sewing-machines?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>There was a pause as the Angel settled and poured a cup of coffee.</p> + +<p>"Make to order, I s'pose?"</p> + +<p>"No," the Girl replied uncertainly.</p> + +<p>"What <i>do</i> you sell?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, I—I——" She stopped.</p> + +<p>"What you got in the bag?" the Angel persisted.</p> + +<p>"Some—some—just some—stuff," stammered the Girl, and her face +suddenly flushed crimson.</p> + +<p>"What kind of stuff?"</p> + +<p>The Girl looked into the frankly inquisitive eyes and was overwhelmed by +a sense of her own helplessness. Tears started, and one pearly drop ran +down her perfect nose and splashed in the coffee. That was the last +straw. She leaned forward suddenly with her head on her arms and wept.</p> + +<p>"Please, please don't ask questions!" she pleaded. "I'm a poor, foolish, +helpless, misguided, disillusioned woman!"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said the Angel. She took up the eggs, then came over and put a +kindly arm about the Girl's shoulders. "There, there!" she said +soothingly. "Don't take on like that! Drink some coffee, and eat a bite, +and you'll feel better!"</p> + +<p>"I have had no sleep at all and no food since yesterday, and I've walked +miles and miles and miles," the Girl rushed on feverishly. "It's all +because—because——" She stopped suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Eat something," commanded the Angel.</p> + +<p>The Girl obeyed. The coffee was weak and muddy and delightful; the +biscuits were yellow and lumpy and delicious; the eggs were eggs. The +Angel sat opposite and watched the Girl as she ate.</p> + +<p>"Husband beat you?" she demanded suddenly.</p> + +<p>The Girl blushed and choked.</p> + +<p>"No," she hastened to say. "I have no husband."</p> + +<p>"Well, there ain't no serious trouble in this world till you marry a +man that beats you," said the Angel judicially. It was the final word.</p> + +<p>The Girl didn't answer, and, in view of the fact that she had sufficient +data at hand to argue the point, this repression required heroism. +Perhaps she will never get credit for it. She finished the breakfast in +silence and leaned back with some measure of returning content in her +soul.</p> + +<p>"In a hurry?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"No, I have no place to go. What is the nearest village or town?"</p> + +<p>"Watertown, but you'd better stay and rest a while. You look all +tuckered out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you so much," said the Girl gratefully. "But it would be so +much trouble for——"</p> + +<p>The Angel picked up the burlap bag, shook it inquiringly, then started +toward the short stairs leading up.</p> + +<p>"Please, please!" exclaimed the Girl suddenly. "I—I—let me have that, +please!"</p> + +<p>The Angel relinquished the bag without a word. The Girl took it, +tremblingly, then, suddenly dropping it, clasped the Angel in her arms +and placed upon her unresponsive lips a kiss for which a mere man would +have endangered his immortal soul. The Angel wiped her mouth with the +back of her hand and went on up the stairs with the Girl following.</p> + +<p>For a time the Girl lay, with wet eyes, on a clean little bed, thinking. +Humiliation, exhaustion, man's perfidy, disillusionment, and the +kindness of an utter stranger all occupied her until she fell asleep. +Then she was chased by a policeman with automobile lights for eyes, and +there was a parade of hard-boiled eggs and yellow, lumpy biscuits.</p> + +<p>When she awoke the room was quite dark. She sat up a little bewildered +at first; then she remembered. After a moment she heard the voice of the +Angel, below. It rippled on querulously; then she heard the gruff voice +of a man.</p> + +<p>"Diamond rings?"</p> + +<p>The Girl sat up in bed and listened intently. Involuntarily her hands +were clasped together. Her rings were still safe. The Angel's voice went +on for a moment again.</p> + +<p>"Something in a bag?" inquired the man.</p> + +<p>Again the Angel spoke.</p> + +<p>Terror seized upon the Girl; imagination ran riot, and she rose from the +bed, trembling. She groped about the dark room noiselessly. Every shadow +lent her new fears. Then from below came the sound of heavy footsteps. +She listened fearfully. They came on toward the stairs, then paused. A +match was struck and the step sounded on the stairs.</p> + +<p>After a moment there was a knock at the door, a pause, then another +knock. Finally the door was pushed open and a huge figure—the figure of +a man—appeared, sheltering a candle with one hand. He peered about the +room as if perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Ain't nobody up here," he called gruffly down the stairs.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill11.jpg" width="400" height="195" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>There was a sound of hurrying feet and the Angel entered, her face +distorted by the flickering candlelight.</p> + +<p>"For the land's sakes!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Went away without even saying thank you," grumbled the man. He crossed +the room and closed a window. "You ain't got no better sense than a +chicken," he told the Angel. "Take in anybody that comes."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p>If Willie's little brother hadn't had a pain in his tummy this story +might have gone by other and devious ways to a different conclusion. But +fortunately he did have, so it happened that at precisely 8.47 o'clock +of a warm evening Willie was racing madly along a side street of +Watertown, drug-store-bound, when he came face to face with a Girl—a +pretty Girl—a very pretty Girl. She was carrying a bag that clanked a +little at each step.</p> + +<p>"Oh, little boy!" she called.</p> + +<p>"Hunh?" and Willie stopped so suddenly that he endangered his +equilibrium, although that isn't how he would have said it.</p> + +<p>"Nice little boy," said the Girl soothingly, and she patted his tousled +head while he gnawed a thumb in pained embarrassment. "I'm very tired. I +have been walking a great distance. Could you tell me, please, where a +lady, unattended, might get a night's lodging somewhere near here?"</p> + +<p>"Hunh?" gurgled Willie through the thumb.</p> + +<p>Wearily the Girl repeated it all and at its end Willie giggled. It was +the most exasperating incident of a long series of exasperating +incidents, and the Girl's grip on the bag tightened a little. Willie +never knew how nearly he came to being hammered to death with fourteen +pounds of solid gold.</p> + +<p>"Well?" inquired the Girl at last.</p> + +<p>"Dunno," said Willie. "Jimmy's got the stomach-ache," he added +irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>"Can't you think of a hotel or boarding-house near by?" the Girl +insisted.</p> + +<p>"Dunno," replied Willie. "I'm going to the drug store for a pair o' +gorrick."</p> + +<p>The Girl bit her lip, and that act probably saved Willie from the dire +consequences of his unconscious levity, for after a moment the Girl +laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>"Where is the drug store?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"'Round the corner. I'm going."</p> + +<p>"I'll go along, too, if you don't mind," the Girl said, and she turned +and walked beside him. Perhaps the drug clerk would be able to +illuminate the situation.</p> + +<p>"I swallyed a penny oncst," Willie confided suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Too bad!" commented the Girl.</p> + +<p>"Unh unnh," Willie denied emphatically. "'Cause when I cried, Paw gimme +a quarter." He was silent a moment, then: "If I'd 'a' swallyed that, I +reckin he'd gimme a dollar. Gee!"</p> + +<p>This is the optimism that makes the world go round. The philosophy took +possession of the Girl and cheered her. When she entered the drug store +she walked with a lighter step and there was a trace of a smile about +her pretty mouth. A clerk, the only attendant, came forward.</p> + +<p>"I want a pair o' gorrick," Willie announced.</p> + +<p>The Girl smiled, and the clerk, paying no attention to the boy, went +toward her.</p> + +<p>"Better attend to him first," she suggested. "It seems urgent."</p> + +<p>The clerk turned to Willie.</p> + +<p>"Paregoric?" he inquired. "How much?"</p> + +<p>"About a quart, I reckin," replied the boy. "Is that enough?"</p> + +<p>"Quite enough," commented the clerk. He disappeared behind the +prescription screen and returned after a moment with a small phial. The +boy took it, handed over a coin, and went out, whistling. The Girl +looked after him with a little longing in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Now, madam?" inquired the clerk suavely.</p> + +<p>"I only want some information," she replied. "I was out on my +bicycle"—she gulped a little—"when it broke down, and I'll have to +remain here in town over night, I'm afraid. Can you direct me to a quiet +hotel or boarding-house where I might stay?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied the clerk briskly. "The Stratford, just a block up +this street. Explain the circumstances, and it will be all right, I'm +sure."</p> + +<p>The Girl smiled at him again and cheerfully went her way. That small boy +had been a leaven to her drooping spirits. She found the Stratford +without difficulty and told the usual bicycle lie, with a natural growth +of detail and a burning sense of shame. She registered as Elizabeth +Carlton and was shown to a modest little room.</p> + +<p>Her first act was to hide the gold plate in the closet; her second was +to take it out and hide it under the bed. Then she sat down on a couch +to think. For an hour or more she considered the situation in all its +hideous details, planning her desolate future—women like to plan +desolate futures—then her eye chanced to fall upon an afternoon paper, +which, with glaring headlines, announced the theft of the Randolph gold +plate. She read it. It told, with startling detail, things that had and +had not happened in connection therewith.</p> + +<p>This comprehended in all its horror, she promptly arose and hid the bag +between the mattress and the springs. Soon after she extinguished the +light and retired with little shivers running up and down all over her. +She snuggled her head down under the cover. She didn't sleep much—she +was still thinking—but when she arose next morning her mind was made +up.</p> + +<p>First she placed the eleven gold plates in a heavy card-board box, then +she bound it securely with brown paper and twine and addressed it: +"Stuyvesant Randolph, Seven Oaks, via Merton." She had sent express +packages before and knew how to proceed, therefore when the necessity of +writing a name in the upper left-hand corner appeared—the sender—she +wrote in a bold, desperate hand: "John Smith, Watertown."</p> + +<p>When this was all done to her satisfaction, she tucked the package under +one arm, tried to look as if it weren't heavy, and sauntered downstairs +with outward self-possession and inward apprehension. She faced the +clerk cordially, while a singularly distracting smile curled her lips.</p> + +<p>"My bill, please?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Two dollars, madam," he responded gallantly.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill12.jpg" width="400" height="216" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"I don't happen to have any money with me," she explained charmingly. +"Of course, I had expected to go back on my wheel, but, since it is +broken, perhaps you would be willing to take this until I return to the +city and can mail a check?"</p> + +<p>She drew a diamond ring from an aristocratic finger and offered it to +the clerk. He blushed furiously, and she reproved him for it with a cold +stare.</p> + +<p>"It's quite irregular," he explained, "but, of course, in the +circumstances, it will be all right. It is not necessary for us to keep +the ring at all, if you will give us your city address."</p> + +<p>"I prefer that you keep it," she insisted firmly, "for, besides, I shall +have to ask you to let me have fare back to the city—a couple of +dollars? Of course it will be all right?"</p> + +<p>It was half an hour before the clerk fully awoke. He had given the Girl +two real dollars and held her ring clasped firmly in one hand. She was +gone. She might just as well have taken the hotel along with her so far +as any objection from that clerk would have been concerned.</p> + +<p>Once out of the hotel the Girl hurried on.</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness, that's over," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>For several blocks she walked on. Finally her eye was attracted by a "To +Let" sign on a small house—it was No. 410 State Street. She walked in +through a gate cut in the solid wall of stone and strolled up to the +house. Here she wandered about for a time, incidentally tearing off the +"To Let" sign. Then she came down the path toward the street again. Just +inside the stone fence she left her express package, after scribbling +the name of the street on it with a pencil. A dollar bill lay on top. +She hurried out and along a block or more to a small grocery.</p> + +<p>"Will you please 'phone to the express company and have them send a +wagon to No. 410 State Street for a package?" she asked sweetly of a +heavy-voiced grocer.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, ma'am," he responded with alacrity.</p> + +<p>She paused until he had done as she requested, then dropped into a +restaurant for a cup of coffee. She lingered there for a long time, and +then went out to spend a greater part of the day wandering up and down +State Street. At last an express wagon drove up, the driver went in and +returned after a little while with the package.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill13.jpg" width="400" height="229" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"And, thank goodness, that's off my hands!" sighed the Girl. "Now I'm +going home."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Late that evening, Saturday, Miss Dollie Meredith returned to the home +of the Greytons and was clasped to the motherly bosom of Mrs. Greyton, +where she wept unreservedly.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;"> +<img src="images/ill14.jpg" width="480" height="600" alt=""A dollar bill lay on top"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"A dollar bill lay on top"</span> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p>It was late Sunday afternoon. Hutchinson Hatch did not run lightly up +the steps of the Greyton home and toss his cigar away as he rang the +bell. He did go up the steps, but it was reluctantly, dragging one foot +after the other, this being an indication rather of his mental condition +than of physical weariness. He did not throw away his cigar as he rang +the bell because he wasn't smoking—but he did ring the bell. The maid +whom he had seen on his previous visit opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Greyton in?" he asked with a nod of recognition.</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Greyton?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. Meredith arrive from Baltimore?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Last midnight."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Is <i>he</i> in?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>The reporter's disappointment showed clearly in his face.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose you've heard anything further from Miss Meredith?" he +ventured hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"She's upstairs, sir."</p> + +<p>Anyone who has ever stepped on a tack knows just how Hatch felt. He +didn't stand on the order of being invited in—he went in. Being in, he +extracted a plain calling-card from his pocketbook with twitching +fingers and handed it to the waiting maid.</p> + +<p>"When did she return?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Last night, about nine, sir."</p> + +<p>"Where has she been?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir."</p> + +<p>"Kindly hand her my card and explain to her that it is imperative that I +see her for a few minutes," the reporter went on. "Impress upon her the +absolute necessity of this. By the way, I suppose you know where I came +from, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Police headquarters, yes, sir."</p> + +<p>Hatch tried to look like a detective, but a gleam of intelligence in his +face almost betrayed him.</p> + +<p>"You might intimate as much to Miss Meredith," he instructed the maid +calmly.</p> + +<p>The maid disappeared. Hatch went in and sat down in the reception-room, +and said "Whew!" several times.</p> + +<p>"The gold plate returned to Randolph last night by express," he mused, +"and she returned also, last night. Now what does that mean?"</p> + +<p>After a minute or so the maid reappeared to state that Miss Meredith +would see him. Hatch received the message gravely and beckoned +mysteriously as he sought for a bill in his pocketbook.</p> + +<p>"Do you have any idea where Miss Meredith was?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. She didn't even tell Mrs. Greyton or her father."</p> + +<p>"What was her appearance?"</p> + +<p>"She seemed very tired, sir, and hungry. She still wore the masked ball +costume."</p> + +<p>The bill changed hands and Hatch was left alone again. There was a long +wait, then a rustle of skirts, a light step, and Miss Dollie Meredith +entered.</p> + +<p>She was nervous, it is true, and pallid, but there was a suggestion of +defiance as well as determination on her pretty mouth. Hatch stared at +her in frank admiration for a moment, then, with an effort, proceeded to +business.</p> + +<p>"I presume, Miss Meredith," he said solemnly, "that the maid informed +you of my identity?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Dollie weakly. "She said you were a detective."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the reporter meaningly, "then we understand each other. +Now, Miss Meredith, will you tell me, please, just where you have been?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The answer was so prompt and so emphatic that Hatch was a little +disconcerted. He cleared his throat and started over again.</p> + +<p>"Will you inform me, then, in the interest of justice, where you were on +the evening of the Randolph ball?" An ominous threat lay behind the +words, Hatch hoped she believed.</p> + +<p>"I will not."</p> + +<p>"Why did you disappear?"</p> + +<p>"I will not tell you."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 369px;"> +<img src="images/ill15.jpg" width="369" height="600" alt=""There was a suggestion of defiance as well as +determination on her pretty mouth"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"There was a suggestion of defiance as well as +determination on her pretty mouth"</span> +</div> +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<p>Hatch paused to readjust himself. He was going at things backward. When +next he spoke his tone had lost the official tang—he talked like a +human being.</p> + +<p>"May I ask if you happen to know Richard Herbert?"</p> + +<p>The pallor of the girl's face was relieved by a delicious sweep of +colour.</p> + +<p>"I will not tell you," she answered.</p> + +<p>"And if I say that Mr. Herbert happens to be a friend of mine?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"</p> + +<p>Two distracting blue eyes were staring him out of countenance; two +scarlet lips were drawn tightly together in reproof of a man who boasted +such a friendship; two cheeks flamed with indignation that he should +have mentioned the name. Hatch floundered for a moment, then cleared his +throat and took a fresh start.</p> + +<p>"Will you deny that you saw Richard Herbert on the evening of the masked +ball?"</p> + +<p>"I will not."</p> + +<p>"Will you admit that you saw him?"</p> + +<p>"I will not."</p> + +<p>"Do you know that he was wounded?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>Now, Hatch had always held a vague theory that the easiest way to make a +secret known was to intrust it to a woman. At this point he revised his +draw, threw his hand in the pack, and asked for a new deal.</p> + +<p>"Miss Meredith," he said soothingly after a pause, "will you admit or +deny that you ever heard of the Randolph robbery?"</p> + +<p>"I will not," she began, then: "Certainly I know of it."</p> + +<p>"You know that a man and a woman are accused of and sought for the +theft?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that."</p> + +<p>"You will admit that you know the man was in Burglar's garb, and that +the woman was dressed in a Western costume?"</p> + +<p>"The newspapers say that, yes," she replied sweetly.</p> + +<p>"You know, too, that Richard Herbert went to that ball in Burglar's garb +and that you went there dressed as a Western girl?" The reporter's tone +was strictly professional now.</p> + +<p>Dollie stared into the stern face of her interrogator and her courage +oozed away. The colour left her face and she wept violently.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," Hatch expostulated. "I beg your pardon. I didn't +mean it just that way, but——"</p> + +<p>He stopped helplessly and stared at this wonderful woman with the red +hair. Of all things in the world tears were quite the most +disconcerting.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill16.jpg" width="400" height="237" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he repeated awkwardly.</p> + +<p>Dollie looked up with tear-stained, pleading eyes, then arose and placed +both her hands on Hatch's arm. It was a pitiful, helpless sort of a +gesture; Hatch shuddered with sheer delight.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how you found out about it," she said tremulously, "but, +if you've come to arrest me, I'm ready to go with you."</p> + +<p>"Arrest you?" gasped the reporter.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I'll go and be locked up. That's what they do, isn't it?" +she questioned innocently.</p> + +<p>The reporter stared.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't arrest you for a million dollars!" he stammered in dire +confusion. "It wasn't quite that. It was——"</p> + +<p>And five minutes later Hutchinson Hatch found himself wandering +aimlessly up and down the sidewalk.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p>Dick Herbert lay stretched lazily on a couch in his room with hands +pressed to his eyes. He had just read the Sunday newspapers announcing +the mysterious return of the Randolph plate, and naturally he had a +headache. Somewhere in a remote recess of his brain mental pyrotechnics +were at play; a sort of intellectual pinwheel spouted senseless ideas +and suggestions of senseless ideas. The late afternoon shaded off into +twilight, twilight into dusk, dusk into darkness, and still he lay +motionless.</p> + +<p>After a while, from below, he heard the tinkle of a bell and Blair +entered with light tread:</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sir, are you asleep?"</p> + +<p>"Who is it, Blair?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hatch, sir."</p> + +<p>"Let him come up."</p> + +<p>Dick arose, snapped on the electric lights, and stood blinkingly in the +sudden glare. When Hatch entered they faced each other silently for a +moment. There was that in the reporter's eyes that interested Dick +immeasurably; there was that in Dick's eyes that Hatch was trying vainly +to fathom. Dick relieved a certain vague tension by extending his left +hand. Hatch shook it cordially.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Dick inquired.</p> + +<p>Hatch dropped into a chair and twirled his hat.</p> + +<p>"Heard the news?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The return of the gold plate, yes," and Dick passed a hand across his +fevered brow. "It makes me dizzy."</p> + +<p>"Heard anything from Miss Meredith?"</p> + +<p>"No. Why?"</p> + +<p>"She returned to the Greytons last night."</p> + +<p>"Returned to the——" and Dick started up suddenly. "Well, there's no +reason why she shouldn't have," he added. "Do you happen to know where +she was?"</p> + +<p>The reporter shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything," he said wearily, "except——" he paused.</p> + +<p>Dick paced back and forth across the room several times with one hand +pressed to his forehead. Suddenly he turned on his visitor.</p> + +<p>"Except what?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Except that Miss Meredith, by action and word, has convinced me that +she either had a hand in the disappearance of the Randolph plate or else +knows who was the cause of its disappearance."</p> + +<p>Dick glared at him savagely.</p> + +<p>"You know she didn't take the plate?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied the reporter. "That's what makes it all the more +astonishing. I talked to her this afternoon, and when I finished she +seemed to think I had come to arrest her, and she wanted to go to jail. +I nearly fainted."</p> + +<p>Dick glared incredulously, then resumed his nervous pacing. Suddenly he +stopped.</p> + +<p>"Did she mention my name?"</p> + +<p>"I mentioned it. She wouldn't admit even that she knew you."</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>"I don't blame her," Dick remarked enigmatically. "She must think me a +cad."</p> + +<p>Another pause.</p> + +<p>"Well, what about it all, anyhow?" Dick went on finally. "The plate has +been returned, therefore the matter is at an end."</p> + +<p>"Now look here, Dick," said Hatch. "I want to say something, and don't +go crazy, please, until I finish. I know an awful lot about this +affair—things the police never will know. I haven't printed anything +much for obvious reasons."</p> + +<p>Dick looked at him apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he urged.</p> + +<p>"I could print things I know," the reporter resumed; "swear out a +warrant for you in connection with the gold plate affair and have you +arrested and convicted on your own statements, supplemented by those of +Miss Meredith. Yet, remember, please, neither your name nor hers has +been mentioned as yet."</p> + +<p>Dick took it calmly; he only stared.</p> + +<p>"Do you believe that I stole the plate?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do not," replied Hatch, "but I can prove that you <i>did</i>; +prove it to the satisfaction of any jury in the world, and no denial of +yours would have any effect."</p> + +<p>"Well?" asked Dick, after a moment.</p> + +<p>"Further, I can, on information in my possession, swear out a warrant +for Miss Meredith, prove she was in the automobile, and convict her as +your accomplice. Now that's a silly state of affairs, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"But, man, you can't believe that she had anything to do with it! +She's—she's not that kind."</p> + +<p>"I could take oath that she didn't have anything to do with it, but all +the same I can prove that she did," replied Hatch. "Now what I am +getting at is this: if the police should happen to find out what I know +they would send you up—both of you."</p> + +<p>"Well, you are decent about it, old man, and I appreciate it," said Dick +warmly. "But what can we do?"</p> + +<p>"It behoves us—Miss Meredith and you and myself—to get the true facts +in the case all together before you get pinched," said the reporter +judicially. "Suppose now, just suppose, that we three get together and +tell each other the truth for a change, the whole truth, and see what +will happen?"</p> + +<p>"If I should tell you the truth," said Dick dispassionately, "it would +bring everlasting disgrace on Miss Meredith, and I'd be a beast for +doing it; if she told you the truth she would unquestionably send me to +prison for theft."</p> + +<p>"But here——" Hatch expostulated.</p> + +<p>"Just a minute!" Dick disappeared into another room, leaving the +reporter to chew on what he had, then returned in a little while, +dressed for the street. "Now, Hatch," he said, "I'm going to try to get +to Miss Meredith, but I don't believe she'll see me. If she will, I may +be able to explain several things that will clear up this affair in +<i>your</i> mind, at any rate. If I don't see her—— By the way, did her +father arrive from Baltimore?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Good!" exclaimed Dick. "I'll see him, too—make a show-down of it, and +when it's all over I'll let you know what happened."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill17.jpg" width="400" height="183" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Hatch went back to his shop and threatened to kick the office-boy into +the waste-basket.</p> + +<p>At just about that moment Mr. Meredith, in the Greyton home, was reading +a card on which appeared the name, "Mr. Richard Hamilton Herbert." +Having read it, he snorted his indignation and went into the +reception-room. Dick arose to greet him and offered a hand, which was +promptly declined.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to ask you, Mr. Meredith," Dick began with a certain steely +coldness in his manner, "just why you object to my attention to your +daughter, Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"You know well enough!" raged the old man.</p> + +<p>"It is because of the trouble I had in Harvard with your son, Harry. +Well and good, but is that all? Is that to stand forever?"</p> + +<p>"You proved then that you were not a gentleman," declared the old man +savagely. "You're a puppy, sir."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/ill18.jpg" width="362" height="600" alt=""Mr. Meredith ... was reading a card on which appeared +the name 'Mr. Richard Hamilton Herbert'"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Mr. Meredith ... was reading a card on which appeared +the name 'Mr. Richard Hamilton Herbert'"</span> +</div> +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<p>"If you didn't happen to be the father of the girl I'm in love with I'd +poke you in the nose," Dick replied, almost cheerfully. "Where is your +son now? Is there no way I can place myself right in your eyes?"</p> + +<p>"No!" Mr. Meredith thundered. "An apology would only be a confession of +your dishonour!"</p> + +<p>Dick was nearly choking, but managed to keep his voice down.</p> + +<p>"Does your daughter know anything of that affair?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"Where is your son?"</p> + +<p>"None of your business, sir!"</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose there's any doubt in your mind of my affection for your +daughter?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you do admire her," snapped the old man. "You can't help +that, I suppose. No one can," he added naďvely.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose you know that she loves me, in spite of your objections?" +went on the young man.</p> + +<p>"Bah! Bah!"</p> + +<p>"And that you are breaking her heart by your mutton-headed objection to +me?"</p> + +<p>"You—you——" sputtered Mr. Meredith.</p> + +<p>Dick was still calm.</p> + +<p>"May I see Miss Meredith for a few minutes?" he went on.</p> + +<p>"She won't see you, sir," stormed the irate parent. "She told me last +night that she would never consent to see you again."</p> + +<p>"Will you give me your permission to see her here and now, if she will +consent?" Dick insisted steadily.</p> + +<p>"She won't see you, I say."</p> + +<p>"May I send a card to her?"</p> + +<p>"She won't see you, sir," repeated Mr. Meredith doggedly.</p> + +<p>Dick stepped out into the hall and beckoned to the maid.</p> + +<p>"Please take my card to Miss Meredith," he directed.</p> + +<p>The maid accepted the white square, with a little uplifting of her +brows, and went up the stairs. Miss Meredith received it languidly, read +it, then sat up indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Dick Herbert!" she exclaimed incredulously. "How dare he come here? +It's the most audacious thing I ever heard of! Certainly I will not see +him again in any circumstances." She arose and glared defiantly at the +demure maid. "Tell Mr. Herbert," she said emphatically, "tell him—that +I'll be right down."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p>Mr. Meredith had stamped out of the room angrily, and Dick Herbert was +alone when Dollie, in regal indignation, swept in. The general slant of +her ruddy head radiated defiance, and a most depressing chilliness lay +in her blue eyes. Her lips formed a scarlet line, and there was a +how-dare-you-sir tilt to nose and chin. Dick started up quickly at her +appearance.</p> + +<p>"Dollie!" he exclaimed eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Herbert," she responded coldly. She sat down primly on the extreme +edge of a chair which yawned to embrace her. "What is it, please?"</p> + +<p>Dick was a singularly audacious sort of person, but her manner froze him +into sudden austerity. He regarded her steadily for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I have come to explain why——"</p> + +<p>Miss Dollie Meredith sniffed.</p> + +<p>"I have come to explain," he went on, "why I did not meet you at the +Randolph masked ball, as we had planned."</p> + +<p>"Why you did <i>not</i> meet me?" inquired Dollie coldly, with a little +surprised movement of her arched brows. "Why you did <i>not</i> meet me?" she +repeated.</p> + +<p>"I shall have to ask you to believe that, in the circumstances, it was +absolutely impossible," Dick continued, preferring not to notice the +singular emphasis of her words. "Something occurred early that evening +which—which left me no choice in the matter. I can readily understand +your indignation and humiliation at my failure to appear, and I had no +way of reaching you that evening or since. News of your return last +night only reached me an hour ago. I knew you had disappeared."</p> + +<p>Dollie's blue eyes were opened to the widest and her lips parted a +little in astonishment. For a moment she sat thus, staring at the young +man, then she sank back into her chair with a little gasp.</p> + +<p>"May I inquire," she asked, after she recovered her breath, "the cause +of this—this levity?"</p> + +<p>"Dollie, dear, I am perfectly serious," Dick assured her earnestly. "I +am trying to make it plain to you, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Why you did <i>not</i> meet me?" Dollie repeated again. "Why you <i>did</i> meet +me! And that's—that's what's the matter with everything!"</p> + +<p>Whatever surprise or other emotion Dick might have felt was admirably +repressed.</p> + +<p>"I thought perhaps there was some mistake somewhere," he said at last. +"Now, Dollie, listen to me. No, wait a minute please! I did not go to +the Randolph ball. You did. You eloped from that ball, as you and I had +planned, in an automobile, but not with me. You went with some other +man—the man who really stole the gold plate."</p> + +<p>Dollie opened her mouth to exclaim, then shut it suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Now just a moment, please," pleaded Dick. "You spoke to some other man +under the impression that you were speaking to me. For a reason which +does not appear now, he fell in with your plans. Therefore, you ran away +with him—in the automobile which carried the gold plate. What happened +after that I cannot even surmise. I only know that you are the +mysterious woman who disappeared with the Burglar."</p> + +<p>Dollie gasped and nearly choked with her emotions. A flame of scarlet +leaped into her face and the glare of the blue eyes was pitiless.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Herbert," she said deliberately at last, "I don't know whether you +think I am a fool or only a child. I know that no rational human being +can accept that as true. I know I left Seven Oaks with you in the auto; +I know you are the man who stole the gold plate; I know how you received +the shot in your right shoulder; I know how you afterward fainted from +loss of blood. I know how I bound up your wound and—and—I know a lot +of things else!"</p> + +<p>The sudden rush of words left her breathless for an instant. Dick +listened quietly. He started to say something—to expostulate—but she +got a fresh start and hurried on:</p> + +<p>"I recognised you in that silly disguise by the cleft in your chin. I +called you Dick and you answered me. I asked if you had received the +little casket and you answered yes. I left the ballroom as you directed +and climbed into the automobile. I know that horrid ride we had, and how +I took the gold plate in the bag and walked—walked through the night +until I was exhausted. I know it all—how I lied and connived, and told +silly stories—but I did it all to save you from yourself, and now you +dare face me with a denial!"</p> + +<p>Dollie suddenly burst into tears. Dick now attempted no further denial. +There was no anger in his face—only a deeply troubled expression. He +arose and walked over to the window, where he stood staring out.</p> + +<p>"I know it all," Dollie repeated gurglingly—"all, except what possible +idea you had in stealing the miserable, wretched old plate, anyway!" +There was a pause and Dollie peered through teary fingers. "How—how +long," she asked, "have you been a—a—a—kleptomaniac?"</p> + +<p>Dick shrugged his sturdy shoulders a little impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Did your father ever happen to tell you <i>why</i> he objects to my +attentions to you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, but I know now." And there was a new burst of tears. "It's +because—because you are a—a—you take things."</p> + +<p>"You will not believe what I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"How can I when I helped you run away with the horrid stuff?"</p> + +<p>"If I pledge you my word of honour that I told you the truth?"</p> + +<p>"I can't believe it, I can't!" wailed Dollie desolately. "No one could +believe it. I never suspected—never dreamed—of the possibility of such +a thing even when you lay wounded out there in the dark woods. If I had, +I should certainly have never—have never—kissed you."</p> + +<p>Dick wheeled suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Kissed me?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you horrid thing!" sobbed Dollie. "If there had previously been +the slightest doubt in my mind as to your identity, that would have +convinced me that it was you, because—because—just because! And +besides, if it wasn't you I kissed, you ought to have told me!"</p> + +<p>Dollie leaned forward suddenly on the arm of the chair with her face +hidden in her hands. Dick crossed the room softly toward her and laid a +hand caressingly about her shoulders. She shook it off angrily.</p> + +<p>"How dare you, sir?" she blazed.</p> + +<p>"Dollie, don't you love me?" he pleaded.</p> + +<p>"No!" was the prompt reply.</p> + +<p>"But you did love me—once?"</p> + +<p>"Why—yes, but I—I——"</p> + +<p>"And couldn't you ever love me again?"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't ever want to again."</p> + +<p>"But couldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"If you had only told me the truth, instead of making such a silly +denial," she blubbered. "I don't know why you took the plate +unless—unless it is because you—you couldn't help it. But you didn't +tell me the truth."</p> + +<p>Dick stared down at the ruddy head moodily for a moment. Then his manner +changed and he dropped on his knees beside her.</p> + +<p>"Suppose," he whispered, "suppose I should confess that I did take it?"</p> + +<p>Dollie looked up suddenly with a new horror in her face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you <i>did</i> do it then?" she demanded. This was worse than ever!</p> + +<p>"Suppose I should confess that I did?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dick!" she sobbed. And her arms went suddenly around his neck. "You +are breaking my heart. Why? Why?"</p> + +<p>"Would you be satisfied?" he insisted.</p> + +<p>"What could have caused you to do such a thing?"</p> + +<p>The love-light glimmered again in her blue eyes; the red lips trembled.</p> + +<p>"Suppose it had been just a freak of mine, and I had intended to—to +return the stuff, as has been done?" he went on.</p> + +<p>Dollie stared deeply into the eyes upturned to hers.</p> + +<p>"Silly boy," she said. Then she kissed him. "But you must never, never +do it again."</p> + +<p>"I never will," he promised solemnly.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 407px;"> +<img src="images/ill19.jpg" width="407" height="600" alt=""'Silly boy,' she said"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'Silly boy,' she said"</span> +</div> +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<p>Five minutes later Dick was leaving the house, when he met Mr. Meredith +in the hall.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to marry your daughter," he said quite calmly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Meredith raved at him as he went down the steps.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill20.jpg" width="400" height="188" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p>Alone in her room, with the key turned in the lock, Miss Dollie Meredith +had a perfectly delightful time. She wept and laughed and sobbed and +shuddered; she was pensive and doleful and happy and melancholy; she +dreamed dreams of the future, past and present; she sang foolish little +ecstatic songs—just a few words of each—and cried again copiously. Her +father had sent her to her room with a stern reprimand, and she giggled +joyously as she remembered it.</p> + +<p>"After all, it wasn't anything," she assured herself. "It was silly for +him to—to take the stuff, of course, but it's back now, and he told me +the truth, and he intended to return it, anyway." In her present mood +she would have justified anything. "And he's not a thief or anything. I +don't suppose father will ever give his consent, so, after all, we'll +have to elope, and that will be—perfectly delightful. Papa will go on +dreadfully and then he'll be all right."</p> + +<p>After a while Dollie snuggled down in the sheets and lay quite still in +the dark until sleep overtook her. Silence reigned in the house. It was +about two o'clock in the morning when she sat up suddenly in bed with +startled eyes. She had heard something—or rather in her sleep she had +received the impression of hearing something. She listened intently as +she peered about.</p> + +<p>Finally she <i>did</i> hear something—something tap sharply on the window +once. Then came silence again. A frightened chill ran all the way down +to Dollie's curling pink toes. There was a pause, and then again came +the sharp click on the window, whereupon Dollie pattered out of bed in +her bare feet and ran to the window, which was open a few inches.</p> + +<p>With the greatest caution she peered out. Vaguely skulking in the +shadows below she made out the figure of a man. As she looked it seemed +to draw up into a knot, then straighten out quickly. Involuntarily she +dodged. There came another sharp click at the window. The man below was +tossing pebbles against the pane with the obvious purpose of attracting +her attention.</p> + +<p>"Dick, is that you?" she called cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-h-h!" came the answer. "Here's a note for you. Open the window so +I may throw it in."</p> + +<p>"Is it really and truly you?" Dollie insisted.</p> + +<p>"Yes," came the hurried, whispered answer. "Quick, someone is coming!"</p> + +<p>Dollie threw the sash up and stepped back. A whirling, white object came +through and fell noiselessly on the carpet. Dollie seized upon it +eagerly and ran to the window again. Below she saw the retreating figure +of a man. Other footsteps materialised in a bulky policeman, who +strolled by seeking, perhaps, a quiet spot for a nap.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 488px;"> +<img src="images/ill21.jpg" width="488" height="600" alt=""She opened the note eagerly and sat down upon the floor +to read it"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"She opened the note eagerly and sat down upon the floor +to read it"</span> +</div> +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<p>Shivering with excitement, Dollie closed the window and pulled down the +shade, after which she lighted the gas. She opened the note eagerly and +sat down upon the floor to read it. Now a large part of this note was +extraneous verbiage of a superlative emotional nature—its vital +importance was an outline of a new plan of elopement, to take place on +Wednesday in time for them to catch a European-bound steamer at +half-past two in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>Dollie read and reread the crumpled sheet many times, and when finally +its wording had been indelibly fixed in her mind she wasted an +unbelievable number of kisses on it. Of course this was sheer +extravagance, but—girls are wonderful creatures.</p> + +<p>"He's the dearest thing in the world!" she declared at last.</p> + +<p>She burned the note reluctantly and carefully disposed of the ashes by +throwing them out of the window, after which she returned to her bed. On +the following morning, Monday, father glared at daughter sternly as she +demurely entered the breakfast-room. He was seeking to read that which +no man has ever been able to read—a woman's face. Dollie smiled upon +him charmingly.</p> + +<p>After breakfast father and daughter had a little talk in a sunny corner +of the library.</p> + +<p>"I have planned for us to return to Baltimore on next Thursday," he +informed her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't that delightful?" beamed Dollie.</p> + +<p>"In view of everything and your broken promise to me—the promise not to +see Herbert again—I think it wisest," he continued.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is," she mused.</p> + +<p>"Why did you see him?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"I consented to see him only to bid him good-by," replied Dollie +demurely, "and to make perfectly clear to him my position in this +matter."</p> + +<p>Oh, woman! Perfidious, insincere, loyal, charming woman! All the tangled +skeins of life are the work of your dainty fingers. All the sins and +sorrows are your doing!</p> + +<p>Mr. Meredith rubbed his chin thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"You may take it as my wish—my order even," he said as he cleared his +throat—for giving orders to Dollie was a dangerous experiment, "that +you must not attempt to communicate in any way with Mr. Herbert +again—by letter or otherwise."</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa."</p> + +<p>Mr. Meredith was somewhat surprised at the ease with which he got away +with this. Had he been blessed with a little more wisdom in the ways of +women he would have been suspicious.</p> + +<p>"You really do not love him, anyway," he ventured at last. "It was only +a girlish infatuation."</p> + +<p>"I told him yesterday just what I thought of him," she replied +truthfully enough.</p> + +<p>And thus the interview ended.</p> + +<p>It was about noon that day when Hutchinson Hatch called on Dick Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Well, what did you find out?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Really, old man," said Dick kindly, "I have decided that there is +nothing I can say to you about the matter. It's a private affair, after +all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that and you know that, but the police don't know it," +commented the reporter grimly.</p> + +<p>"The police!" Dick smiled.</p> + +<p>"Did you see her?" Hatch asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw her—and her father, too."</p> + +<p>Hatch saw the one door by which he had hoped to solve the riddle closing +on him.</p> + +<p>"Was Miss Meredith the girl in the automobile?" he asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>"Really, I won't answer that."</p> + +<p>"Are you the man who stole the gold plate?"</p> + +<p>"I won't answer that, either," replied Dick smilingly. "Now, look here, +Hatch, you're a good fellow. I like you. It is your business to find out +things, but, in this particular affair, I'm going to make it my business +to keep you from finding out things. I'll risk the police end of it." He +went over and shook hands with the reporter cordially. "Believe me, if I +told you the absolute truth—all of it—you couldn't print it +unless—unless I was arrested, and I don't intend that that shall +happen."</p> + +<p>Hatch went away.</p> + +<p>That night the Randolph gold plate was stolen for the second time. +Thirty-six hours later Detective Mallory arrested Richard Herbert with +the stolen plate in his possession. Dick burst out laughing when the +detective walked in on him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill22.jpg" width="400" height="202" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>PART III<br /><br /> + +THE THINKING MACHINE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p>Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen, Ph. D., LL. D., F. R. S., M. D., +etc., etc., was the Court of Last Appeal in the sciences. He was five +feet two inches tall, weighed 107 pounds, that being slightly above +normal, and wore a number eight hat. Bushy, yellow hair straggled down +about his ears and partially framed a clean-shaven, wizened face in +which were combined the paradoxical qualities of extreme aggressiveness +and childish petulance. The mouth drooped a little at the corners, being +otherwise a straight line; the eyes were mere slits of blue, squinting +eternally through thick spectacles. His brow rose straight up, domelike, +majestic even, and added a whimsical grotesqueness to his appearance.</p> + +<p>The Professor's idea of light literature, for rare moments of +recreation, was page after page of encyclopćdic discussion on "ologies" +and "isms" with lots of figures in 'em. Sometimes he wrote these +discussions himself, and frequently held them up to annihilation. His +usual speaking tone was one of deep annoyance, and he had an unwavering +glare that went straight through one. He was the son of the son of the +son of an eminent German scientist, the logical production of a house +that had borne a distinguished name in the sciences for generations.</p> + +<p>Thirty-five of his fifty years had been devoted to logic, study, +analysis of cause and effect, mental, material, and psychological. By +his personal efforts he had mercilessly flattened out and readjusted at +least two of the exact sciences and had added immeasurably to the +world's sum of knowledge in others. Once he had held the chair of +philosophy in a great university, but casually one day he promulgated a +thesis that knocked the faculty's eye out, and he was invited to vacate. +It was a dozen years later that that university had openly resorted to +influence and diplomacy to induce him to accept its LL. D.</p> + +<p>For years foreign and American institutions, educational, scientific, +and otherwise, crowded degrees upon him. He didn't care. He started +fires with the elaborately formal notifications of these unsought +honours and turned again to his work in the small laboratory which was a +part of his modest home. There he lived, practically a recluse, his +simple wants being attended to by one aged servant, Martha.</p> + +<p>This, then, was The Thinking Machine. This last title, The Thinking +Machine, perhaps more expressive of the real man than a yard of honorary +initials, was coined by Hutchinson Hatch at the time of the scientist's +defeat of a chess champion after a single morning's instruction in the +game. The Thinking Machine had asserted that logic was inevitable, and +that game had proven his assertion. Afterward there had grown up a +strange sort of friendship between the crabbed scientist and the +reporter. Hatch, to the scientist, represented the great, whirling +outside world; to the reporter the scientist was merely a brain—a +marvellously keen, penetrating, infallible guide through material +muddles far removed from the delicately precise labours of the +laboratory.</p> + +<p>Now The Thinking Machine sat in a huge chair in his reception-room with +long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip and squint eyes turned upward. +Hatch was talking, had been talking for more than an hour with +infrequent interruptions. In that time he had laid bare the facts as he +and the police knew them from the incidents of the masked ball at Seven +Oaks to the return of Dollie Meredith.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Hatch," asked The Thinking Machine, "just what is known of +this second theft of the gold plate?"</p> + +<p>"It's simple enough," explained the reporter. "It was plain burglary. +Some person entered the Randolph house on Monday night by cutting out a +pane of glass and unfastening a window-latch. Whoever it was took the +plate and escaped. That's all anyone knows of it."</p> + +<p>"Left no clew, of course?"</p> + +<p>"No, so far as has been found."</p> + +<p>"I presume that, on its return by express, Mr. Randolph ordered the +plate placed in the small room as before?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"He's a fool."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Please go on."</p> + +<p>"Now the police absolutely decline to say as yet just what evidence they +have against Herbert beyond the finding of the plate in his possession," +the reporter resumed, "though, of course, that's enough and to spare. +They will not say, either, how they first came to connect him with the +affair. Detective Mallory doesn't——"</p> + +<p>"When and where was Mr. Herbert arrested?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday, Tuesday, afternoon in his rooms. Fourteen pieces of the gold +plate were on the table."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine dropped his eyes a moment to squint at the +reporter.</p> + +<p>"Only eleven pieces of the plate were first stolen, you said?"</p> + +<p>"Only eleven, yes."</p> + +<p>"And I think you said two shots were fired at the thief?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Who fired them, please?"</p> + +<p>"One of the detectives—Cunningham, I think."</p> + +<p>"It was a detective—you know that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. Please go on."</p> + +<p>"The plate was all spread out—there was no attempt to conceal it," +Hatch resumed. "There was a box on the floor and Herbert was about to +pack the stuff in it when Detective Mallory and two of his men entered. +Herbert's servant, Blair, was away from the house at the time. His +people are up in Nova Scotia, so he was alone."</p> + +<p>"Nothing but the gold plate was found?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the reporter. "There was a lot of jewelry in a case +and fifteen or twenty odd pieces—fifty thousand dollars' worth of +stuff, at least. The police took it to find the owners."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! Dear me!" exclaimed The Thinking Machine. "Why didn't you +mention the jewelry at first? Wait a minute."</p> + +<p>Hatch was silent while the scientist continued to squint at the ceiling. +He wriggled in his chair uncomfortably and smoked a couple of cigarettes +before The Thinking Machine turned to him and nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's all I know," said Hatch.</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. Herbert say anything when arrested?"</p> + +<p>"No, he only laughed. I don't know why. I don't imagine it would have +been at all funny to me."</p> + +<p>"Has he said anything since?"</p> + +<p>"No, nothing to me or anybody else. He was arraigned at a preliminary +hearing, pleaded not guilty, and was released on twenty thousand dollars +bail. Some of his rich friends furnished it."</p> + +<p>"Did he give any reason for his refusal to say anything?" insisted The +Thinking Machine testily.</p> + +<p>"He remarked to me that he wouldn't say anything, because, even if he +told the truth, no one would believe him."</p> + +<p>"If it should have been a protestation of innocence I'm afraid nobody +<i>would</i> have believed him," commented the scientist enigmatically. He +was silent for several minutes. "It could have been a brother, of +course," he mused.</p> + +<p>"A brother?" asked Hatch quickly. "Whose brother? What brother?"</p> + +<p>"As I understand it," the scientist went on, not heeding the question, +"you did not believe Herbert guilty of the first theft?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I couldn't," Hatch protested. "I couldn't," he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well, because—because he's not that sort of man," explained the +reporter. "I've known him for years, personally and by reputation."</p> + +<p>"Was he a particular friend of yours in college?"</p> + +<p>"No, not an intimate, but he was in my class—and he's a whacking, +jam-up, ace-high football player." That squared everything.</p> + +<p>"Do you now believe him guilty?" insisted the scientist.</p> + +<p>"I can't believe anything else—and yet I'd stake my life on his +honesty."</p> + +<p>"And Miss Meredith?"</p> + +<p>The reporter was reaching the explosive point. He had seen and talked to +Miss Meredith, you know.</p> + +<p>"It's perfectly asinine to suppose that <i>she</i> had anything to do with +either theft, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine was silent on that point.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill23.jpg" width="400" height="174" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Hatch," he said finally, "the problem comes down to this: Did +a man, and perhaps a woman, who are circumstantially proven guilty of +stealing the gold plate, <i>actually</i> steal it? We have the stained +cushion of the automobile in which the thieves escaped to indicate that +one of them was wounded; we have Mr. Herbert with an injured right +shoulder—a hurt received that night on his own statement, though he +won't say how. We have, then, the second theft and the finding of the +stolen property in his possession along with another lot of stolen +stuff—jewels. It is apparently a settled case now without going +further."</p> + +<p>"But——" Hatch started to protest.</p> + +<p>"But suppose we do go a little further," The Thinking Machine went on. +"I can prove definitely, conclusively, and finally by settling only two +points whether or not Mr. Herbert was wounded while in the automobile. +If he was wounded while in that automobile, he was the first thief; if +not, he wasn't. If he was the first thief, he was probably the second, +but even if he were not the first thief, there is, of course, a +possibility that he was the second."</p> + +<p>Hatch was listening with mouth open.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we begin now," continued The Thinking Machine, "by finding out +the name of the physician who treated Mr. Herbert's wound last Thursday +night. Mr. Herbert may have a reason for keeping the identity of this +physician secret, but, perhaps—wait a minute," and the scientist +disappeared into the next room. He was gone for five minutes. "See if +the physician who treated the wound wasn't Dr. Clarence Walpole."</p> + +<p>The reporter blinked a little.</p> + +<p>"Right," he said. "What next?"</p> + +<p>"Ask him something about the nature of the wound and all the usual +questions."</p> + +<p>Hatch nodded.</p> + +<p>"Then," resumed The Thinking Machine casually, "bring me some of Mr. +Herbert's blood."</p> + +<p>The reporter blinked a good deal, and gulped twice.</p> + +<p>"How much?" he inquired briskly.</p> + +<p>"A single drop on a small piece of glass will do very nicely," replied +the scientist.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p>The Supreme Police Intelligence of the Metropolitan District was doing +some heavy thinking, which, modestly enough, bore generally on his own +dazzling perspicacity. Just at the moment he couldn't recall any +detector of crime whose lustre in any way dimmed his own, or whose mere +shadow, even, had a right to fall on the same earth as his; and this +lapse of memory so stimulated his admiration for the subject of his +thoughts that he lighted a fresh cigar and put his feet in the middle of +the desk.</p> + +<p>He sat thus when The Thinking Machine called. The Supreme +Intelligence—Mr. Mallory—knew Professor Van Dusen well, and, though he +received his visitor graciously, he showed no difficulty in restraining +any undue outburst of enthusiasm. Instead, the same admirable +self-control which prevented him from outwardly evidencing his pleasure +prompted him to square back in his chair with a touch of patronising +aggressiveness in his manner.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Professor," was his noncommittal greeting.</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, Mr. Mallory," responded the scientist in the thin, +irritated voice which always set Mr. Mallory's nerves a-jangle. "I don't +suppose you would tell me by what steps you were led to arrest Mr. +Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"I would not," declared Mr. Mallory promptly.</p> + +<p>"No, nor would you inform me of the nature of the evidence against him +in addition to the jewels and plate found in his possession?"</p> + +<p>"I would not," replied Mr. Mallory again.</p> + +<p>"No, I thought perhaps you would not," remarked The Thinking Machine. "I +understand, by the way, that one of your men took a leather cushion from +the automobile in which the thieves escaped on the night of the ball?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?" demanded the detective.</p> + +<p>"I merely wanted to inquire if it would be permissible for me to see +that cushion?"</p> + +<p>Detective Mallory glared at him suspiciously, then slowly his heavy +face relaxed, and he laughed as he arose and produced the cushion.</p> + +<p>"If you're trying to make any mystery of this cushion, you're in bad," +he informed the scientist. "We know the owner of the automobile in which +Herbert and the Girl escaped. The cushion means nothing."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine examined the heavy leather carefully and paid a +great deal of attention to the crusted stains which it bore. He picked +at one of the brown spots with his penknife and it flaked off in his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Herbert was caught with the goods on," declared the detective, and he +thumped the desk with his lusty fist. "We've got the right man."</p> + +<p>"Yes," admitted The Thinking Machine, "it begins to look very much as if +you <i>did</i> have the right man—for once."</p> + +<p>Detective Mallory snorted.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind telling me if any of the jewelry you found in Mr. +Herbert's possession has been identified?"</p> + +<p>"Sure thing," replied the detective. "That's where I've got Herbert +good. Four people who lost jewelry at the masked ball have appeared and +claimed pieces of the stuff."</p> + +<p>For an instant a slightly perplexed wrinkle appeared in the brow of The +Thinking Machine, and as quickly it passed.</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," he mused.</p> + +<p>"It's the biggest haul of stolen goods the police of this city have made +for many years," the detective volunteered complacently. "And, if I'm +not wrong, there's more of it coming—no man knows how much more. Why, +Herbert must have been operating for years, and he got away with it, of +course, by the gentlemanly exterior, the polish, and all that. I +consider his capture the most important that has happened since I have +been connected with the police."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?" inquired the scientist thoughtfully. He was still gazing at +the cushion.</p> + +<p>"And the most important development of all is to come," Detective +Mallory rattled on. "That will be the real sensation, and make the +arrest of Herbert seem purely incidental. It now looks as if there +would be another arrest of a—of a person who is so high socially, and +all that——"</p> + +<p>"Yes," interrupted The Thinking Machine, "but do you think it would be +wise to arrest her now?"</p> + +<p>"Her?" demanded Detective Mallory. "What do you know of any woman?"</p> + +<p>"You were speaking of Miss Dorothy Meredith, weren't you?" inquired The +Thinking Machine blandly. "Well, I merely asked if you thought it would +be wise for your men to go so far as to arrest her."</p> + +<p>The detective bit his cigar in two in obvious perturbation.</p> + +<p>"How—how—did you happen to know her name?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Hatch mentioned it to me," replied the scientist. "He has known +of her connection with the case for several days, as well as Herbert's, +and has talked to them both, I think."</p> + +<p>The Supreme Intelligence was nearly apoplectic.</p> + +<p>"If Hatch knew it why didn't he tell me?" he thundered.</p> + +<p>"Really, I don't know," responded the scientist. "Perhaps," he added +curtly, "he may have had some absurd notion that you would find it out +for yourself. He has strange ideas like that sometimes."</p> + +<p>And when Detective Mallory had fully recovered The Thinking Machine was +gone.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Hatch had seen and questioned Dr. Clarence Walpole in the +latter's office, only a stone's throw from Dick Herbert's home. Had +Doctor Walpole recently dressed a wound for Mr. Herbert? Doctor Walpole +had. A wound caused by a pistol-bullet? Yes.</p> + +<p>"When was it, please?" asked Hatch.</p> + +<p>"Only a few nights ago."</p> + +<p>"Thursday night, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>Doctor Walpole consulted a desk-diary.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Thursday night, or rather Friday morning," he replied. "It was +between two and three o'clock. He came here and I fixed him up."</p> + +<p>"Where was the wound, please?"</p> + +<p>"In the right shoulder," replied the physician, "just here," and he +touched the reporter with one finger. "It wasn't dangerous, but he had +lost considerable blood."</p> + +<p>Hatch was silent for a moment, dazed. Every new point piled up the +evidence against Herbert. The location of the wound—a pistol-wound—the +very hour of the dressing of it! Dick would have had plenty of time +between the moment of the robbery, which was comparatively early, and +the hour of his call on Doctor Walpole to do all those things which he +was suspected of doing.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose Mr. Herbert explained how he got the wound?" Hatch +asked apprehensively. He was afraid he had.</p> + +<p>"No. I asked, but he evaded the question. It was, of course, none of my +business, after I had extracted the bullet and dressed the hurt."</p> + +<p>"You have the bullet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It's the usual size—thirty-two calibre."</p> + +<p>That was all. The prosecution was in, the case proven, the verdict +rendered. Ten minutes later Hatch's name was announced to Dick Herbert. +Dick received him gloomily, shook hands with him, then resumed his +interrupted pacing.</p> + +<p>"I had declined to see men from other papers," he said wearily.</p> + +<p>"Now, look here, Dick," expostulated Hatch, "don't you want to make some +statement of your connection with this affair? I honestly believe that +if you did it would help you."</p> + +<p>"No, I cannot make any statement—that's all." Dick's hand closed +fiercely. "I can't," he added, "and there's no need to talk of it." He +continued his pacing for a moment or so; then turned on the reporter. +"Do you believe me guilty?" he demanded abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I can't believe anything else," Hatch replied falteringly. "But at that +I don't <i>want</i> to believe it." There was an embarrassed pause. "I have +just seen Dr. Clarence Walpole."</p> + +<p>"Well?" Dick wheeled on him angrily.</p> + +<p>"What he said alone would convict you, even if the stuff had not been +found here," Hatch replied.</p> + +<p>"Are you <i>trying</i> to convict me?" Dick demanded.</p> + +<p>"I'm trying to get the truth," remarked Hatch.</p> + +<p>"There is just one man in the world whom I must see before the truth can +ever be told," declared Dick vehemently. "And I can't find him now. I +don't know where he is!"</p> + +<p>"Let me find him. Who is he? What's his name?"</p> + +<p>"If I told you that I might as well tell you everything," Dick went on. +"It was to prevent any mention of that name that I have allowed myself +to be placed in this position. It is purely a personal matter between +us—at least I will make it so—and if I ever meet him——" his hands +closed and unclosed spasmodically, "the truth will be known unless I—I +kill him first."</p> + +<p>More bewildered, more befuddled, and more generally betangled than ever, +Hatch put his hands to his head to keep it from flying off. Finally he +glanced around at Dick, who stood with clenched fists and closed teeth. +A blaze of madness lay in Dick's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Miss Meredith again?" inquired the reporter.</p> + +<p>Dick burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later Hatch left him. On the glass top of an inkstand he +carried three precious drops of Herbert's blood.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p>Faithfully, phonographically even, Hatch repeated to The Thinking +Machine the conversation he had had with Doctor Walpole, indicating on +the person of the eminent scientist the exact spot of the wound as +Doctor Walpole had indicated it to him. The scientist listened without +comment to the recital, casually studying meanwhile the three crimson +drops on the glass.</p> + +<p>"Every step I take forward is a step backward," the reporter declared in +conclusion with a helpless grin. "Instead of showing that Dick Herbert +might not have stolen the plate I am proving conclusively that he was +the thief—nailing it to him so hard that he can't possibly get out of +it." He was silent a moment. "If I keep on long enough," he added +glumly, "I'll hang him."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine squinted at him aggressively.</p> + +<p>"You still don't believe him guilty?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, I—I—I——" Hatch burst out savagely. "Damn it, I don't know +what I believe," he tapered off. "It's absolutely impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing is impossible, Mr. Hatch," snapped The Thinking Machine +irritably. "The worst a problem can be is difficult, but all problems +can be solved as inevitably as that two and two make four—not +sometimes, but all the time. Please don't say things are impossible. It +annoys me exceedingly."</p> + +<p>Hatch stared at his distinguished friend and smiled whimsically. He was +also annoyed exceedingly on his own private, individual account—the +annoyance that comes from irresistibly butting into immovable facts.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Walpole's statement," The Thinking Machine went on after a +moment, "makes this particular problem ludicrously simple. Two points +alone show conclusively that Mr. Herbert was not the man in the +automobile. I shall reach the third myself."</p> + +<p>Hatch didn't say anything. The English language is singularly inadequate +at times, and if he had spoken he would have had to invent a phraseology +to convey even a faint glimmer of what he really thought.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Hatch," resumed the scientist, quite casually, "I understand +you graduated from Harvard in ninety-eight. Yes? Well, Herbert was a +classmate of yours there. Please obtain for me one of the printed lists +of students who were in Harvard that year—a complete list."</p> + +<p>"I have one at home," said the reporter.</p> + +<p>"Get it, please, immediately, and return here," instructed the +scientist.</p> + +<p>Hatch went out and The Thinking Machine disappeared into his laboratory. +He remained there for one hour and forty-seven minutes by the clock. +When he came out he found the reporter sitting in the reception-room +again, holding his head. The scientist's face was as blankly inscrutable +as ever.</p> + +<p>"Here is the list," said Hatch as he handed it over.</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine took it in his long, slender fingers and turned two +or three leaves. Finally he stopped and ran a finger down one page.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he exclaimed at last. "I thought so."</p> + +<p>"Thought what?" asked Hatch curiously.</p> + +<p>"I'm going out to see Mr. Meredith now," remarked The Thinking Machine +irrelevantly. "Come along. Have you met him?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Mr. Meredith had read the newspaper accounts of the arrest of Dick +Herbert and the seizure of the gold plate and jewels; he had even +taunted his charming daughter with it in a fatherly sort of a way. She +was weeping, weeping her heart out over this latest proof of the perfidy +and loathsomeness of the man she loved. Incidentally, it may be +mentioned here that the astute Mr. Meredith was not aware of any +elopement plot—either the first or second.</p> + +<p>When a card bearing the name of Mr. Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen was +handed to Mr. Meredith he went wonderingly into the reception-room. +There was a pause as the scientist and Mr. Meredith mentally sized each +other up; then introductions—and The Thinking Machine came down to +business abruptly, as always.</p> + +<p>"May I ask, Mr. Meredith," he began, "how many sons you have?"</p> + +<p>"One," replied Mr. Meredith, puzzled.</p> + +<p>"May I ask his present address?" went on the scientist.</p> + +<p>Mr. Meredith studied the belligerent eyes of his caller and wondered +what business it was of his, for Mr. Meredith was a belligerent sort of +a person himself.</p> + +<p>"May I ask," he inquired with pronounced emphasis on the personal +pronoun, "why you want to know?"</p> + +<p>Hatch rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was wondering what would happen +to him when the cyclone struck.</p> + +<p>"It may save him and you a great deal of annoyance if you will give me +his address," said The Thinking Machine. "I desire to communicate with +him immediately on a matter of the utmost importance—a purely personal +matter."</p> + +<p>"Personal matter?" repeated Mr. Meredith. "Your abruptness and manner, +sir, were not calculated to invite confidence."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine bowed gravely.</p> + +<p>"May I ask your son's address?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>Mr. Meredith considered the matter at some length and finally arrived at +the conclusion that he might ask.</p> + +<p>"He is in South America at present—Buenos Ayres," he replied.</p> + +<p>"What?" exclaimed The Thinking Machine so suddenly that both Hatch and +Mr. Meredith started a little. "What?" he repeated, and wrinkles +suddenly appeared in the domelike brow.</p> + +<p>"I said he was in South America—Buenos Ayres," repeated Mr. Meredith +stiffly, but a little awed. "A letter or cable to him in care of the +American Consul at Buenos Ayres will reach him promptly."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine's narrow eyes were screwed down to the disappearing +point, the slender white fingers were twiddled jerkily, the corrugations +remained in his brow.</p> + +<p>"How long has Mr. Meredith been there?" he asked at last.</p> + +<p>"Three months."</p> + +<p>"Do you <i>know</i> he <i>is</i> there?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Meredith started to say something and swallowed it with an effort.</p> + +<p>"I know it positively, yes," he replied. "I received this letter dated +the second from him three days ago, and to-day I received a +cable-dispatch forwarded to me here from Baltimore."</p> + +<p>"Are you positive the letter is in your son's handwriting?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Meredith almost choked in mingled bewilderment and resentment at the +question and the manner of its asking.</p> + +<p>"I am positive, yes," he replied at last, preserving his tone of dignity +with a perceptible effort. He noted the inscrutable face of his caller +and saw the corrugations in the brow suddenly swept away. "What business +of yours is it, anyway?" blazed Mr. Meredith suddenly.</p> + +<p>"May I ask where <i>you</i> were last Thursday night?" went on the even, +steady voice.</p> + +<p>"It's no business of yours," Mr. Meredith blurted. "I was in Baltimore."</p> + +<p>"Can you prove it in a court of law?"</p> + +<p>"Prove it? Of course I can prove it!" Mr. Meredith was fairly bellowing +at his impassive interrogator. "But it's nobody's business."</p> + +<p>"If you <i>can</i> prove it, Mr. Meredith," remarked The Thinking Machine +quietly, coldly, "you had best make your arrangements to do so, because, +believe me, it may be necessary to save you from a charge of having +stolen the Randolph gold plate on last Thursday night at the masked +ball. Good-day, sir."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p>"But Mr. Herbert won't see anyone, sir," protested Blair.</p> + +<p>"Tell Mr. Herbert, please, that unless I can see him immediately his +bail-bond will be withdrawn," directed The Thinking Machine.</p> + +<p>He stood waiting in the hall while Blair went up the stairs. Dick +Herbert took the card impatiently and glanced at it.</p> + +<p>"Van Dusen," he mused. "Who the deuce is Van Dusen?"</p> + +<p>Blair repeated the message he had received below.</p> + +<p>"What does he look like?" inquired Dick.</p> + +<p>"He's a shrivelled little man with a big yellow head, sir," replied +Blair.</p> + +<p>"Let him come up," instructed Dick.</p> + +<p>Thus, within an hour after he had talked to Mr. Meredith, The Thinking +Machine met Dick Herbert.</p> + +<p>"What's this about the bail-bond?" Dick inquired.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to talk to you," was the scientist's calm reply. "That seemed +to be the easiest way to make you believe it was important, so——"</p> + +<p>Dick's face flushed crimson at the trick.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see me!" he broke out angrily. "I ought to throw you down the +stairs, but—what is it?"</p> + +<p>Not having been invited to a seat, The Thinking Machine took one anyway +and settled himself comfortably.</p> + +<p>"If you will listen to me for a moment without interruption," he began +testily, "I think the subject of my remarks will be of deep personal +concern to you. I am interested in solving this Randolph plate affair +and have perhaps gone further in my investigation than anyone else. At +least, I know more about it. There are some things I don't happen to +know, however, that are of the greatest importance."</p> + +<p>"I tell you——" stormed Dick.</p> + +<p>"For instance," calmly resumed the scientist, "it is very important for +me to know whether or not Harry Meredith was masked when he came into +this room last Thursday night."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 397px;"> +<img src="images/ill24.jpg" width="397" height="600" alt=""Suddenly he stopped and turned upon The Thinking +Machine"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Suddenly he stopped and turned upon The Thinking +Machine"</span> +</div> +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<p>Dick gazed at him in surprise which approached awe. His eyes were widely +distended, the lower part of his face lax, for the instant; then his +white teeth closed with a snap and he sat down opposite The Thinking +Machine. Anger had gone from his manner; instead there was a pallor of +apprehension in the clean-cut face.</p> + +<p>"Who are you, Mr. Van Dusen?" he asked at last. His tone was mild, even +deferential.</p> + +<p>"Was he masked?" insisted the scientist.</p> + +<p>For a long while Dick was silent. Finally he arose and paced nervously +back and forth across the room, glancing at the diminutive figure of The +Thinking Machine each time as he turned.</p> + +<p>"I won't say anything," he decided.</p> + +<p>"Will you name the cause of the trouble you and Meredith had in +Harvard?" asked the scientist.</p> + +<p>Again there was a long pause.</p> + +<p>"No," Dick said finally.</p> + +<p>"Did it have anything to do with theft?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know who you are or why you are prying into an affair that, at +least on its face, does not concern you," replied Dick. "I'll say +nothing at all—unless—unless you produce the one man who can and shall +explain this affair. Produce him here in this room where I can get my +hands on him!"</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine squinted at the sturdy shoulders with admiration in +his face.</p> + +<p>"Did it ever happen to occur to you, Mr. Herbert, that Harry Meredith +and his father are precisely of the same build?"</p> + +<p>Some nameless, impalpable expression crept into Dick's face despite an +apparent fight to restrain it, and again he stared at the small man in +the chair.</p> + +<p>"And that you and Mr. Meredith are practically of the same build?"</p> + +<p>Tormented by unasked questions and by those emotions which had +compelled him to silence all along, Dick still paced back and forth. His +head was whirling. The structure which he had so carefully guarded was +tumbling about his ears. Suddenly he stopped and turned upon The +Thinking Machine.</p> + +<p>"Just what do you know of this affair?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I know for one thing," replied the scientist positively, "that you were +<i>not</i> the man in the automobile."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?"</p> + +<p>"That's beside the question just now."</p> + +<p>"Do you know who <i>was</i> in the automobile?" Dick insisted.</p> + +<p>"I can only answer that question when you have answered mine," the +scientist went on. "Was Harry Meredith masked when he entered this room +last Thursday night?"</p> + +<p>Dick sat staring down at his hands, which were working nervously. +Finally he nodded.</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine understood.</p> + +<p>"You recognised him, then, by something he said or wore?"</p> + +<p>Again Dick nodded reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"Both," he added.</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine leaned back in his chair and sat there for a long +time. At last he arose as if the interview were at an end. There seemed +to be no other questions that he desired to ask at the moment.</p> + +<p>"You need not be unnecessarily alarmed, Mr. Herbert," he assured Dick as +he picked up his hat. "I shall act with discretion in this matter. I am +not representing anyone who would care to make it unpleasant for you. I +may tell you that you made two serious mistakes: the first when you saw +or communicated with Mr. Randolph immediately after the plate was stolen +the second time, and again when you undertook something which properly +belonged within the province of the police."</p> + +<p>Herbert still sat with his head in his hands as The Thinking Machine +went out.</p> + +<p>It was very late that night—after twelve, in fact—when Hutchinson +Hatch called on The Thinking Machine with excitement evident in tone, +manner, and act. He was accustomed to calling at any hour; now he found +the scientist at work as if it were midday.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill25.jpg" width="400" height="212" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"The worst has happened," the reporter told him.</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine didn't look around.</p> + +<p>"Detective Mallory and two of his men saw Miss Meredith this evening +about nine o'clock," Hatch hurried on, "and bully-ragged her into a +confession."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a confession?"</p> + +<p>"She admitted that she was in the automobile on the night of the ball +and that——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Herbert was with her," the scientist supplied.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And—what else?"</p> + +<p>"That her own jewels, valued at twenty thousand dollars, were among +those found in Herbert's possession when he was arrested."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine turned and looked at the reporter, just casually, +and raised his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn.</p> + +<p>"Well, she couldn't do anything else," he said calmly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p>Hutchinson Hatch remained with The Thinking Machine for more than an +hour, and when he left his head was spinning with the multitude of +instructions which had been heaped upon him.</p> + +<p>"Meet me at noon in Detective Mallory's office at police headquarters," +The Thinking Machine had said in conclusion. "Mr. Randolph and Miss +Meredith will be there."</p> + +<p>"Miss Meredith?" Hatch repeated. "She hasn't been arrested, you know, +and I doubt if she will come."</p> + +<p>"She will come," the scientist had replied, as if that settled it.</p> + +<p>Next day the Supreme Intelligence was sitting in his private office. He +had eaten the canary; mingled triumph and gratification beamed upon his +countenance. The smile remained, but to it was added the quality of +curiosity when the door opened and The Thinking Machine, accompanied by +Dollie Meredith and Stuyvesant Randolph, entered.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hatch called yet?" inquired the scientist.</p> + +<p>"No," responded the detective.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" grumbled the other. "It's one minute after twelve o'clock +now. What could have delayed him?"</p> + +<p>His answer was the clattering rush of a cab and the appearance of Hatch +in person a moment later. He came into the room headlong, glanced +around, then paused.</p> + +<p>"Did you get it?" inquired The Thinking Machine.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I got it, but——" began the reporter.</p> + +<p>"Nothing else now," commanded the other.</p> + +<p>There was a little pause as The Thinking Machine selected a chair. The +others also sat down.</p> + +<p>"Well?" inquired the Supreme Intelligence at last.</p> + +<p>"I would like to ask, Mr. Mallory," the scientist said, "if it would be +possible for me to convince you of Mr. Herbert's innocence of the +charges against him?"</p> + +<p>"It would not," replied the detective promptly. "It would not while the +facts are before me, supplemented by the statement of Miss Meredith +here—her confession."</p> + +<p>Dollie coloured exquisitely and her lips trembled slightly.</p> + +<p>"Would it be possible, Miss Meredith," the even voice went on, "to +convince <i>you</i> of Mr. Herbert's innocence?"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't think so," she faltered. "I—I <i>know</i>."</p> + +<p>Tears which had been restrained with difficulty gushed forth suddenly, +and The Thinking Machine squinted at her in pained surprise.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that," he commanded. "It's—it's exceedingly irritating." He +paused a moment, then turned suddenly to Mr. Randolph. "And you?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Randolph shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine receded still further into his chair and stared +dreamily upward with his long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip. +Hatch knew the attitude; something was going to happen. He waited +anxiously. Detective Mallory knew it, too, and wriggled uncomfortably.</p> + +<p>"Suppose," the scientist began, "just suppose that we turn a little +human intelligence on this problem for a change and see if we can't get +the truth out of the blundering muddle that the police have helped to +bring about. Let's use logic, inevitable logic, to show, simply enough, +that instead of being guilty, Mr. Herbert is innocent."</p> + +<p>Dolly Meredith suddenly leaned forward in her chair with flushed face, +eyes widely opened and lips slightly parted. Detective Mallory also +leaned forward in his chair, but there was a different expression on his +face—oh, so different.</p> + +<p>"Miss Meredith, we know you were in the automobile with the Burglar who +stole the plate," The Thinking Machine went on. "You probably knew that +he was wounded and possibly either aided in dressing the wound—as any +woman would—or else saw him dress it himself?"</p> + +<p>"I bound my handkerchief on it," replied the Girl. Her voice was low, +almost a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Where was the wound?"</p> + +<p>"In the right shoulder," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Back or front?" insisted the scientist.</p> + +<p>"Back," she replied. "Very near the arm, an inch or so below the level +of the shoulder."</p> + +<p>Except for The Thinking Machine himself Hatch was the only person in the +room to whom this statement meant anything, and he restrained a shout +with difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Mallory," the scientist went on calmly, "do you happen to know +Dr. Clarence Walpole?"</p> + +<p>"I know of him, yes," replied the detective. "He is a man of +considerable reputation."</p> + +<p>"Would you believe him under oath?"</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly, of course."</p> + +<p>The Supreme Intelligence tugged at his bristly moustache.</p> + +<p>"If Doctor Walpole should dress a wound and should later, under oath, +point out its exact location, you would believe him?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I'd have to, of course."</p> + +<p>"Very well," commented The Thinking Machine tersely. "Now I will state +an incontrovertible scientific fact for your further enlightenment. You +may verify it anyway you choose. This is, briefly, that the blood +corpuscles in man average one-thirty-three hundredths of an inch in +diameter. Remember that, please: one-thirty-three hundredths of an inch. +The system of measurement has reached a state of perfection almost +incomprehensible to the man who does not understand."</p> + +<p>He paused for so long that Detective Mallory began to wriggle again. The +others were leaning forward, listening with widely varied expressions on +their faces.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Mallory," continued The Thinking Machine at last, "one of your +men shot twice at the Burglar in the automobile, as I understand it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—two shots."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cunningham?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Detective Cunningham."</p> + +<p>"Is he here now?"</p> + +<p>The detective pressed a button on his desk and a uniformed man appeared. +Instructions were given, and a moment later Detective Cunningham stood +before them wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you can prove beyond any shadow of a doubt," resumed the +scientist, still addressing Mr. Mallory, "that two shots—<i>and only +two</i>—were fired?"</p> + +<p>"I can prove it by twenty witnesses," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Good, very good," exclaimed the scientist, and he turned to Cunningham.</p> + +<p>"You <i>know</i> that only two shots were fired?"</p> + +<p>"I know it, yes," replied Cunningham. "I fired 'em."</p> + +<p>"May I see your revolver?"</p> + +<p>Cunningham produced the weapon and handed it over. The Thinking Machine +merely glanced at it.</p> + +<p>"This is the revolver you used?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," remarked the scientist quietly, "on that statement +alone Mr. Herbert is proven innocent of the charge against him."</p> + +<p>There was an astonished gasp all around. Hatch was beginning to see what +The Thinking Machine meant, and curiously watched the bewitchingly +sorrowful face of Dollie Meredith. He saw all sorts of strange things +there.</p> + +<p>"Proven innocent?" snorted Detective Mallory. "Why, you've convicted him +out of hand so far as I can see."</p> + +<p>"Corpuscles in human blood average, as I said, one-thirty-three +hundredths of an inch in diameter," resumed the scientist. "They vary +slightly each way, of course. Now, the corpuscles of the Burglar in the +automobile measured just one-thirty-one-forty-seven hundredths of an +inch. Mr. Herbert's corpuscles, tested the same way, with the same +instruments, measure precisely one-thirty-five-sixty hundredths." He +stopped as if that were all.</p> + +<p>"By George!" exclaimed Mr. Randolph. "By George!"</p> + +<p>"That's all tommy-rot," Detective Mallory burst out. "That's nothing to +a jury or to any other man with common sense."</p> + +<p>"That difference in measurement proves beyond question that Mr. Herbert +was not wounded while in the automobile," went on The Thinking Machine +as if there had been no interruption. "Now, Mr. Cunningham, may I ask if +the Burglar's back was toward you when you fired?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He was going away from me."</p> + +<p>"Well, that statement agrees with the statement of Miss Meredith to show +that the Burglar was wounded in the back. Doctor Walpole dressed Mr. +Herbert's wound between two and three o'clock Friday morning following +the masked ball. Mr. Herbert had been shot, but the wound was in the +<i>front</i> of his right shoulder."</p> + +<p>Delighted amazement radiated from Dollie Meredith's face; she clapped +her hands involuntarily as she would have applauded a stage incident. +Detective Mallory started to say something, then thought better of it +and glared at Cunningham instead.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Cunningham says that he shot the Burglar with this revolver." +The Thinking Machine waved the weapon under Detective Mallory's nose. +"This is the usual police weapon. Its calibre is thirty-eight. Mr. +Herbert was shot with a <i>thirty-two</i> calibre. Here is the bullet." And +he tossed it on the desk.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p>Strange emotions all tangled up with turbulent, night-marish impressions +scrambled through Dollie Meredith's pretty head in garish disorder. She +didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Finally she compromised by blushing +radiantly at the memory of certain lingering kisses she had bestowed +upon—upon—Dick Herbert? No, it wasn't Dick Herbert. Oh, dear!</p> + +<p>Detective Mallory pounced upon the bullet as a hound upon a hare, and +turned and twisted it in his hands. Cunningham leaned over his shoulder, +then drew a cartridge from the revolver and compared it, as to size, +with the bullet. Hatch and Mr. Randolph, looking on, saw him shake his +head. The ball was too small for the revolver.</p> + +<p>The Supreme Intelligence turned suddenly, fiercely, upon Dollie and +thrust an accusing finger into her startled face.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Herbert confessed to you that he was with you in the automobile, +didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Y-yes," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"You <i>know</i> he was with you?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I knew it."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't have gone with any other man?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!" A blaze of indignation suffused her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Your casket of jewels was found among the stolen goods in his +possession?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but——"</p> + +<p>With a wave of his hand the Supreme Intelligence stopped explanations +and turned to glare at The Thinking Machine. That imperturbable +gentleman did not alter his position in the slightest, nor did he change +the steady, upward squint of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"If you have quite finished, Mr. Mallory," he said after a moment, "I +will explain how and in what circumstances the stolen plate and jewels +came into Mr. Herbert's possession."</p> + +<p>"Go on," urged Mr. Randolph and Hatch in a breath.</p> + +<p>"Explain all you please; I've got him with the goods on," declared the +Supreme Intelligence doggedly.</p> + +<p>"When the simplest rules of logic establish a fact it becomes +incontrovertible," resumed the scientist. "I have shown that Mr. Herbert +was <i>not</i> the man in the automobile—the Burglar. Now, what <i>did</i> happen +to Mr. Herbert? Twice since his arrest he has stated that it would be +useless for him to explain because no one would believe it, and no one +<i>would</i> have believed it unsupported, least of all you, Mr. Mallory.</p> + +<p>"It's an admitted fact that Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert had planned to +elope from Seven Oaks the night of the ball. I daresay that Mr. Herbert +did not deem it wise for Miss Meredith to know his costume, although he +must, of necessity, have known hers. Therefore, the plan was for him to +recognise her, but as it developed she recognised him—or thought she +did—and that was the real cause of this remarkable muddle." He glanced +at Dollie. "Is that correct?"</p> + +<p>Dollie nodded blushingly.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Herbert did not go to the ball—why not I will explain later. +Therefore, Miss Meredith recognised the real Burglar as Mr. Herbert, and +we know how they ran away together after the Burglar had stolen the +plate and various articles of jewelry. We must credit the Burglar with +remarkable intelligence, so that when a young and attractive woman—I +may say a beautiful woman—spoke to him as someone else he immediately +saw an advantage in it. For instance, when there came discovery of the +theft the girl might unwittingly throw the police off the track by +revealing to them what she believed to be the identity of the thief. +Further, he was a daring, audacious sort of person; the pure love of +such an adventure might have appealed to him. Still, again, it is +possible that he believed Miss Meredith a thief who was in peril of +discovery or capture, and a natural gallantry for one of his own craft +prompted him to act as he did. There is always, too, the possibility +that he knew he was mistaken for Mr. Herbert."</p> + +<p>Dollie was beginning to see, too.</p> + +<p>"We know the method of escape, the pursuit, and all that," continued +the Professor, "therefore we jump to the return of the gold plate. Logic +makes it instantly apparent that that was the work of Miss Meredith +here. Not having the plate, Mr. Herbert did not send it back, of course; +and the Burglar <i>would</i> not have sent it back. Realising, too late, that +the man she was with was really a thief—and still believing him, +perhaps, to be Mr. Herbert—she must have taken the plate and escaped +under cover of darkness?"</p> + +<p>The tone carried a question and The Thinking Machine turned squintingly +upon Dollie. Again she nodded. She was enthralled, fascinated, by the +recital.</p> + +<p>"It was a simple matter for her to return the gold plate by express, +taking advantage of an unoccupied house and the willingness of a +stranger to telephone for an express wagon. Thus, we have the plate +again at Seven Oaks, and we have it there by the only method it could +have been returned there when we account for, and consider, every known +fact."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine paused and sat silently staring upward. His +listeners readjusted themselves in their chairs and waited impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Now, why did Mr. Herbert confess to Miss Meredith that he stole the +plate?" asked the scientist, as if of himself. "Perhaps she forced him +to it. Mr. Herbert is a young man of strong loyalty and a grim sense of +humour, this latter being a quality the police are not acquainted with. +However, Mr. Herbert <i>did</i> confess to Miss Meredith that he was the +Burglar, but he made this confession, obviously, because she would +believe nothing else, and when a seeming necessity of protecting the +real Burglar was still uppermost in his mind. What he wanted was the +Girl. If the facts never came out he was all right; if they did come out +they would implicate one whom he was protecting, but through no fault of +his—therefore, he was still all right."</p> + +<p>"Bah!" exclaimed the Supreme Intelligence. "My experience has shown that a man doesn't confess to a theft +unless——"</p> + +<p>"So we may safely assume," The Thinking Machine continued almost +pleasantly, "that Mr. Herbert, by confessing the theft as a prank, +perhaps, won back Miss Meredith's confidence; that they planned an +elopement for the second time. A conversation Mr. Hatch had with Mr. +Herbert immediately after Mr. Herbert saw Miss Meredith practically +confirms it. Then, with matters in this shape, the real Burglar, to whom +I have accredited unusual powers, stole the plate the second time—we +know how."</p> + +<p>"Herbert stole it, you mean!" blazed Detective Mallory.</p> + +<p>"This theft came immediately on top of the reconciliation of Miss +Meredith and Mr. Herbert," The Thinking Machine went on steadily, +without heeding the remark by the slightest sign. "Therefore, it was +only natural that he should be the person most vitally interested in +seeing that the plate was again returned. He undertook to do this +himself. The result was that, where the police had failed, he found the +plate and a lot of jewels, took them from the Burglar, and was about to +return Mr. Randolph's property when the detectives walked in on him. +That is why he laughed."</p> + +<p>Detective Mallory arose from his seat and started to say something +impolite. The presence of Dollie Meredith choked the words back and he +swallowed hard.</p> + +<p>"Who then," he demanded after a couple of gulps—"who do you say is the +thief if Herbert is not?"</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine glanced up into his face, then turned to Hatch.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hatch, what is that name I asked you to get?"</p> + +<p>"George Francis Hayden," was the stammering reply, "but—but——"</p> + +<p>"Then George Francis Hayden is the thief," declared The Thinking Machine +emphatically.</p> + +<p>"But I—I started to say," Hatch blurted—"I started to say that George +Francis Hayden has been dead for two years."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine rose suddenly and glared at the reporter. There was +a tense silence, broken at last by a chuckle from Detective Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Dead?" repeated the scientist incredulously. "Do you <i>know</i> that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I—I know it."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine stood for another moment squinting at him, then, +turning, left the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p>Half an hour later The Thinking Machine walked in, unannounced, upon +Dick Herbert. The front door had not been locked; Blair was somewhere in +the rear. Herbert, in some surprise, glanced up at his visitor just in +time to see him plank himself down solidly into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Herbert," the scientist began, "I have gone out of my way to prove +to the police that you were not in the automobile with Miss Meredith, +and that you did not steal the gold plate found in your possession. Now, +I happen to know the name of the thief, and——"</p> + +<p>"And if you mention it to one living soul," Dick added suddenly, hotly, +"I shall forget myself and—and——"</p> + +<p>"His name is George Francis Hayden," the scientist continued.</p> + +<p>Dick started a little and straightened up; the menace dropped from him +and he paused to gaze curiously into the wizened face before him. After +a moment he drew a sigh of deep relief.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Oh!"</p> + +<p>"I know that that isn't who you thought it was," resumed the other, "but +the fact remains that Hayden is the man with whom Miss Meredith +unwittingly eloped, and that Hayden is the man who actually stole the +plate and jewels. Further, the fact remains that Hayden——"</p> + +<p>"Is dead," Dick supplemented grimly. "You are talking through your——" +He coughed a little. "You are talking without any knowledge of what you +are saying."</p> + +<p>"He can't be dead," remarked the scientist calmly.</p> + +<p>"But he <i>is</i> dead!" Dick insisted.</p> + +<p>"He can't be dead," snapped the other abruptly. "It's perfectly silly to +suppose such a thing. Why, I have proven absolutely, by the simplest +rules of logic, that he stole the gold plate, therefore he cannot be +dead. It's silly to say so."</p> + +<p>Dick wasn't quite certain whether to be angry or amused. He decided to +hold the matter in abeyance for the moment and see what other strange +thing would develop.</p> + +<p>"How long has he been dead?" continued the scientist.</p> + +<p>"About two years."</p> + +<p>"You <i>know</i> it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it."</p> + +<p>"<i>How</i> do you know it?"</p> + +<p>"Because I attended his funeral," was the prompt reply. Dick saw a +shadow of impatience flash into his visitor's face and instantly pass.</p> + +<p>"How did he die?" queried the scientist.</p> + +<p>"He was lost from his catboat," Dick answered. "He had gone out sailing, +alone, while in a bathing-suit. Several hours after the boat drifted in +on the tide without him. Two or three weeks later the body was +recovered."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed The Thinking Machine.</p> + +<p>Then, for half an hour or so, he talked, and—as he went on, incisively, +pointedly, dramatically, even, at times—Dick Herbert's eyes opened +wider and wider. At the end he rose and gripped the scientist's slender +white fingers heartily in his own with something approaching awe in his +manner. Finally he put on his hat and they went out together.</p> + +<p>That evening at eight o'clock Detective Mallory, Hutchinson Hatch, Mr. +Randolph, Mr. Meredith, Mr. Greyton, and Dollie Meredith gathered in a +parlour of the Greyton home by request of The Thinking Machine. They +were waiting for something—no one knew exactly what.</p> + +<p>Finally there came a tinkle at the bell and The Thinking Machine +entered. Behind him came Dick Herbert, Dr. Clarence Walpole, and a +stranger. Mr. Meredith glanced up quickly at Herbert, and Dollie lifted +her chin haughtily with a stony stare which admitted of no compromise. +Dick pleaded for recognition with his eyes, but it was no use, so he sat +down where he could watch her unobserved.</p> + +<p>Singular expressions flitted over the countenance of the Supreme +Intelligence. Right here, now, he knew the earth was to be jerked out +from under him and he was not at all certain that there would be +anything left for him to cling to. This first impression was +strengthened when The Thinking Machine introduced Doctor Walpole with an +ostentatious squint at Mr. Mallory. The detective set his teeth hard.</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine sat down, stretched out his slender legs, turned +his eyes upward, and adjusted his fingers precisely, tip to tip. The +others watched him anxiously.</p> + +<p>"We will have to go back a few years to get the real beginning of the +events which have culminated so strangely within the past week," he +said. "This was a close friendship of three young men in college. They +were Mr. Herbert here, a freshman, and Harry Meredith and George Francis +Hayden, juniors. This friendship, not an unusual one in college, was +made somewhat romantic by the young men styling themselves The Triangle. +They occupied the same apartments and were exclusive to a degree. Of +necessity Mr. Herbert was drawn from that exclusiveness, to a certain +extent by his participation in football."</p> + +<p>A germ of memory was working in Hatch's mind.</p> + +<p>"At someone's suggestion three triangular watch charms were made, +identical in every way save for initials on the back. They bore a symbol +which was meaningless except to The Triangle. They were made to order +and are, therefore, the only three of the kind in the world. Mr. Herbert +has one now on his watch chain, with his own initials; there is another +with the initials 'G. F. H.' in the lot of jewelry Mr. Mallory recovered +from Mr. Herbert. The third is worn by Harry Meredith, who is now in +Buenos Ayres. The American Consul there has confirmed, by cable, that +fact.</p> + +<p>"In the senior year the three young men of The Triangle were concerned +in the mysterious disappearance of a valuable diamond ring. It was +hushed up in college after it seemed established that Mr. Herbert was a +thief. Knowing his own innocence and seeing what seemed to be an +exclusive opportunity for Harry Meredith to have done what was charged, +Mr. Herbert laid the matter to him, having at that time an interview +with Harry's father. The result of that interview was more than ever to +convince Mr. Meredith of Mr. Herbert's guilt. As a matter of fact, the +thief in that case was George Francis Hayden."</p> + +<p>There were little murmurs of astonishment, and Mr. Meredith turned and +stared at Dick Herbert. Dollie gave him a little glance out of a corner +of her eye, smiled, then sat up primly.</p> + +<p>"This ended The Triangle," resumed the scientist. "A year or so later +Mr. Herbert met Miss Meredith. About two years ago George Francis Hayden +was reported drowned from his catboat. This was confirmed, apparently, +by the finding of his body, and an insurance company paid over a large +sum—I think it was $25,000—to a woman who said she was his wife. But +George Francis Hayden was not drowned; he is alive now. It was a +carefully planned fraud against the insurance company, and it succeeded.</p> + +<p>"This, then, was the situation on last Thursday—the night of the +masked ball at Seven Oaks—except that there had grown up a love affair +between Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert. Naturally, the father opposed +this because of the incident in college. Both Miss Meredith and Mr. +Herbert had invitations to that ball. It was an opportunity for an +elopement and they accepted it. Mr. Herbert sent word to her what +costume to wear; she did not know the nature of his.</p> + +<p>"On Thursday afternoon Miss Meredith sent her jewel-casket, with +practically all her jewels, to Mr. Herbert. She wanted them, naturally; +they probably planned a trip abroad. The maid in this house took the +casket and gave it into Mr. Herbert's own hands. Am I right?" He turned +squarely and squinted at Dollie.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she gasped quickly. She smiled distractingly upon her father and +he made some violent remarks to himself.</p> + +<p>"At this point, Fate, in the guise of a masked Burglar, saw fit to step +into the affair," the scientist went on after a moment. "About +nine-thirty, Thursday evening, while Mr. Herbert was alone, the masked +Burglar, George Francis Hayden, entered Mr. Herbert's house, possibly +thinking everyone was away. There, still masked, he met Mr. Herbert, +who—by something the Burglar said and by the triangular charm he +wore—recognised him as <i>Harry Meredith</i>. Remember, he thought he knew +George Francis Hayden was dead.</p> + +<p>"There were some words and a personal encounter between the two men. +George Francis Hayden fired a shot which struck Mr. Herbert in the right +shoulder—in front—took the jewel-casket in which Mr. Herbert had +placed his card of invitation to the ball, and went away, leaving Mr. +Herbert senseless on the floor."</p> + +<p>Dollie's face blanched suddenly and she gasped. When she glanced +involuntarily at Dick she read the love-light in his eyes, and her +colour returned with a rush.</p> + +<p>"Several hours later, when Mr. Herbert recovered consciousness," the +unruffled voice went on, "he went to Doctor Walpole, the nearest +physician, and there the bullet was extracted and the wound dressed. +The ball was thirty-two calibre?"</p> + +<p>Doctor Walpole nodded.</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Cunningham's revolver carried a thirty-eight," added the +scientist. "Now we go back to the Burglar. He found the invitation in +the casket, and the bold scheme, which later he carried out so +perfectly, came to him as an inspiration. He went to the ball just as he +was. Nerve, self-possession, and humour took him through. We know the +rest of that.</p> + +<p>"Naturally, in the circumstances, Mr. Herbert, believing that Harry +Meredith was the thief, would say nothing to bring disgrace upon the +name of the girl he loved. Instead, he saw Miss Meredith, who would not +accept his denial then, and in order to get her first—explanations +might come later—he confessed to the theft, whereupon they planned the +second elopement.</p> + +<p>"When Miss Meredith returned the plate by express there was no +anticipation of a second theft. Here is where we get a better +understanding of the mettle of the real Burglar—George Francis Hayden. +He went back and got the plate from Seven Oaks. Instantly that upset the +second elopement plan. Then Mr. Herbert undertook the search, got a +clew, followed it, and recovered not only the plate, but a great lot of +jewels."</p> + +<p>There was a pause. A skyrocket ascended in Hatch's mind and burst, +illuminating the whole tangled story. Detective Mallory sat dumbly, +thinking harsh words. Mr. Meredith arose, went over to Dick Herbert, and +solemnly shook his hand, after which he sat down again. Dollie smiled +charmingly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p>"Now that is what actually happened," said The Thinking Machine, after a +little while. "How do I know it? Logic, logic, logic! The logical mind +can start from any given point and go backward or forward, with equal +facility, to a natural conclusion. This is as certain as that two and +two make four—not <i>sometimes</i>, but <i>all</i> the time.</p> + +<p>"First in this case I had Mr. Hatch's detailed examination of each +circumstance. By an inspiration he connected Mr. Herbert and Miss +Meredith with the affair and talked to both before the police had any +knowledge at all of them. In other words, he reached at a bound what +they took days to accomplish. After the second theft he came to me and +related the story."</p> + +<p>The reporter blushed modestly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hatch's belief that the thing that had happened to Mr. Herbert and +Miss Meredith bore on the theft," resumed the scientist, "was +susceptible of confirmation or refutation in only one way, this being so +because of Mr. Herbert's silence—due to his loyalty. I saw that. But, +before I went further, I saw clearly what had actually happened <i>if</i> I +presupposed that there <i>had</i> been some connection. Thus came to me, I +may say here, the almost certain knowledge that Miss Meredith had a +brother, although I had never heard of him or her."</p> + +<p>He paused a little and twiddled his thumbs thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Suppose you give us just your line of reasoning," ventured Hatch.</p> + +<p>"Well, I began with the blood-stains in the automobile to either bring +Mr. Herbert into this affair or shut him out," replied the scientist. +"You know how I made the blood tests. They showed conclusively that the +blood on the cushion was not Mr. Herbert's. Remember, please, that, +although I knew Miss Meredith had been in the automobile, I also knew +she was not wounded; therefore the blood was that of someone else—the +man.</p> + +<p>"Now, I knew Mr. Herbert had been wounded—he wouldn't say how. If at +home, would he not go to the nearest physician? Probably. I got Doctor +Walpole's name from the telephone-book—he being nearest the Herbert +home—and sent Mr. Hatch there, where he learned of the wound in front, +and of the thirty-two calibre ball. I already knew the police revolvers +were thirty-eight calibre; therefore Mr. Herbert was not wounded while +in the automobile.</p> + +<p>"That removed Mr. Herbert as a possibility in the first theft, despite +the fact that his invitation-card was presented at the door. It was +reasonable to suppose that invitation had been stolen. Immediately after +the plate was returned by express, Mr. Herbert effected a reconciliation +with Miss Meredith. Because of this and for other reasons I could not +bring myself to see that he was a party to the second theft, as I knew +him to be innocent of the first. Yet, what happened to him? Why wouldn't +he say something?</p> + +<p>"All things must be imagined before they can be achieved; therefore +imagination is one of the most vital parts of the scientific brain. In +this instance I could only imagine why Mr. Herbert was silent. Remember, +he was shot and wouldn't say who did it. Why? If it had been an ordinary +thief—and I got the idea of a thief from the invitation-card being in +other hands than his—he would not have hesitated to talk. Therefore, it +was an <i>extraordinary</i> thief in that it connected with something near +and dear to him. No one was nearer and dearer to him than Miss Meredith. +Did she shoot him? No. Did her father shoot him? Probably not, but +possibly. A brother? That began to look more reasonable. Mr. Herbert +would probably not have gone so far to protect one less near to her than +brother or father.</p> + +<p>"For the moment I assumed a brother, not knowing. How did Mr. Herbert +know this brother? Was it in his college days? Mr. Hatch brought me a +list of the students of three years before his graduating year and +there I found the name, Harry Meredith. You see, step by step, pure +logic was leading me to something tangible, definite. My next act was to +see Mr. Meredith and ask for the address of his son—an only son—whom +at that time I frankly believed was the real thief. But this son was in +South America. That startled me a little and brought me up against the +father as a possible thief. He was in Baltimore on that night.</p> + +<p>"I accepted that as true at the moment after some—er—some pleasant +words with Mr. Meredith. Then the question: Was the man who stole from +Mr. Herbert, probably entering his place and shooting him, masked? Mr. +Herbert said he was. I framed the question so as to bring Harry +Meredith's name into it, much to Mr. Herbert's alarm. How had he +recognised him as Harry Meredith? By something he said or wore? Mr. +Herbert replied in the affirmative—both. Therefore I had a masked +Burglar who could <i>not</i> have been either Harry Meredith or Harry +Meredith's father. Who was he?</p> + +<p>"I decided to let Mr. Hatch look into that point for me, and went to see +Doctor Walpole. He gave me the bullet he had extracted from Mr. +Herbert's shoulder. Mr. Hatch, shortly after, rushed in on me with the +statement that Miss Meredith had admitted that Mr. Herbert had confessed +to her. I could see instantly <i>why</i> he had confessed to her. Then Mr. +Hatch undertook for me the investigation of Herbert's and Harry +Meredith's career in college. He remembered part of it and unearthed the +affair of The Triangle and the theft of a diamond ring.</p> + +<p>"I had asked Mr. Hatch to find for me if Harry Meredith and Mr. Herbert +had had a mutual intimate in college. They had. George Francis Hayden, +the third member of the Triangle. Then the question seemed solved, but +Mr. Hatch upset everything when he said that Mr. Hayden was dead. I went +immediately to see Mr. Herbert. From him I learned that, although Mr. +Hayden was <i>supposed</i> to be dead and buried, there was no positive proof +of it; the body recovered had been in the water three weeks and was +consequently almost unrecognisable. Therefore, the theft came inevitably +to Mr. Hayden. Why? Because the Burglar had been recognised by something +he said and wore. It would have been difficult for Mr. Herbert to +recognise a masked man so positively unless the masked man <i>wore</i> +something he absolutely <i>knew</i>, or <i>said</i> something he absolutely +<i>knew</i>. Mr. Herbert <i>thought</i> with reason that the masked man was Harry +Meredith, but, with Harry Meredith in South America, the thief was +incontrovertibly George Francis Hayden. There was no going behind that.</p> + +<p>"After a short interview as to Hayden, during which Mr. Herbert told me +more of The Triangle and the three watch charms, he and I went out +investigating. He took me to the room where he had found the plate and +jewels—a place in an apartment-house which this gentleman manages." The +scientist turned to the stranger, who had been a silent listener. "He +identified an old photograph of George Francis Hayden as an occupant of +an apartment.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Herbert and I searched the place. My growing idea, based on the +established knavery of George Francis Hayden, that he was the real thief +in the college incident, was proven when I found this ring there—the +ring that was stolen at that time—with the initials of the owner in +it."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine produced the ring and offered it to Detective +Mallory, who had allowed the earth to slip away from him slowly but +surely, and he examined it with a new and absorbed interest.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Herbert and I learned of the insurance fraud in another +manner—that is, when we knew that George Francis Hayden was not dead, +we knew there had been a fraud. Mr. Hayden has been known lately as +Chester Goodrich. He has been missing since Mr. Herbert, in his absence, +recovered the plate and the jewels in his apartments. I may add that, up +to the day of the masked ball, he was protected from casual recognition +by a full beard. He is now clean-shaven."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine glanced at Mr. Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Your man—Downey, I think it was—did excellent work," he said, "in +tracing Miss Meredith from the time she left the automobile until she +returned home, and later leading you to Mr. Herbert. It was not strange +that you should have been convinced of his guilt when we consider the +goods found in his possession and also the wound in his shoulder. The +only trouble is he didn't get to the real insides of it."</p> + +<p>That was all. For a long time there was silence. Dollie Meredith's +pretty face was radiant and her eyes were fastened on her father. Mr. +Meredith glanced at her, cleared his throat several times, then arose +and offered his hand to Dick Herbert.</p> + +<p>"I have done you an injustice, sir," he said gravely. "Permit me to +apologise. I think perhaps my daughter——"</p> + +<p>That was superfluous. Dollie was already beside Dick, and a rousing, +smacking, resounding kiss echoed her father's words. Dick liked it some +and was ready for more, but Dollie impetuously flung her arms around +the neck of The Thinking Machine, and he—passed to his reward.</p> + +<p>"You dear old thing!" she gurgled. "You're just too sweet and cute for +anything."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill26.jpg" width="400" height="201" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Dear me! Dear me!" fussed The Thinking Machine. "Don't do that. It +annoys me exceedingly."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Some three months later, when the search for George Francis Hayden had +become only lukewarm, this being three days before Miss Meredith's +wedding to Dick Herbert, she received a small box containing a solitaire +ring and a note. It was brief:</p> + +<blockquote><p>In memory of one night in the woods and of what happened +there, permit me to give this—you can't return it. It is one +of the few things honest money from me ever paid for.</p> +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Bill, the Burglar.</span></div></blockquote> + + +<p>While Dollie examined the ring with mingled emotions Dick stared at the +postmark on the package.</p> + +<p>"It's a corking good clew," he said enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>Dollie turned to him, recognising a menace in the words, and took the +paper which bore the postmark from his hands.</p> + +<p>"Let's pretend," she said gently—"let's pretend we don't know where it +came from!"</p> + +<p>Dick stared a little and kissed her.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="transnote"><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> + +<p>Repaired obvious spelling and punctuation typos. Period spellings +and unusual grammatical usages retained.</p> + +<p>Both "waggon" and "wagon" were used in this text, consistent within +character voices—retained.</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Chase of the Golden Plate, by Jacques Futrelle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE *** + +***** This file should be named 38981-h.htm or 38981-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/9/8/38981/ + +Produced by David Starner, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from images made available by the +HathiTrust Digital Library.) + + +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. 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b/38981-h/images/ill26.jpg diff --git a/38981.txt b/38981.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ae6c51 --- /dev/null +++ b/38981.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5222 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Chase of the Golden Plate, by Jacques Futrelle + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Chase of the Golden Plate + +Author: Jacques Futrelle + +Illustrator: Will Grefe + E. A. Poucher + +Release Date: February 25, 2012 [EBook #38981] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from images made available by the +HathiTrust Digital Library.) + + + + + + + + + +The Chase of the Golden Plate + + +[Illustration: "'You really do not love him, anyway,' he ventured"] + + + + + The Chase of the + Golden Plate + + By + Jacques Futrelle + + With Illustrations by Will Grefe + and Decorations by E. A. Poucher + + + New York + Dodd, Mead & Company + 1906 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY + THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY + DODD, MEAD & COMPANY + + _Published, October, 1906_ + + + + + To + _Three Women I Love_: + + FAMA, + and + MAYZIE, + and + BERTA + + + + +The Chase of the Golden Plate + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +PART I + +THE BURGLAR AND THE GIRL + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Cardinal Richelieu and the Mikado stepped out on a narrow balcony +overlooking the entrance to Seven Oaks, lighted their cigarettes and +stood idly watching the throng as it poured up the wide marble steps. +Here was an over-corpulent Dowager Empress of China, there an Indian +warrior in full paint and toggery, and mincing along behind him two +giggling Geisha girls. Next, in splendid robes of rank, came the Czar of +Russia. The Mikado smiled. + +"An old enemy of mine," he remarked to the Cardinal. + +A Watteau Shepherdess was assisted out of an automobile by Christopher +Columbus and they came up the walk arm-in-arm, while a Pierrette ran +beside them laughing up into their faces. D'Artagnan, Athos, Aramis, and +Porthos swaggered along with insolent, clanking swords. + +"Ah!" exclaimed the Cardinal. "There are four gentlemen whom I know +well." + +Mary Queen of Scots, Pocahontas, the Sultan of Turkey, and Mr. Micawber +chatted amicably together in one language. Behind them came a figure +which immediately arrested attention. It was a Burglar, with dark +lantern in one hand and revolver in the other. A black mask was drawn +down to his lips, a slouch hat shaded his eyes, and a kit of the tools +of his profession swung from one shoulder. + +"By George!" commented the Cardinal. "Now, that's clever." + +"Looks like the real thing," the Mikado added. + +The Burglar stood aside a moment, allowing a diamond-burdened Queen +Elizabeth to pass, then came on up the steps. The Cardinal and the +Mikado passed through an open window into the reception-room to witness +his arrival. + +[Illustration: "A figure which immediately arrested attention"] + +"Her Royal Highness, Queen Elizabeth!" the graven-faced servant +announced. + +The Burglar handed a card to the liveried Voice and noted, with obvious +amusement, a fleeting expression of astonishment on the stolid face. +Perhaps it was there because the card had been offered in that hand +which held the revolver. The Voice glanced at the name on the card and +took a deep breath of relief. + +"Bill, the Burglar!" he announced. + +There was a murmur of astonishment and interest in the reception-hall +and the ballroom beyond. Thus it was that the Burglar found himself the +centre of attention for a moment, while a ripple of laughter ran around. +The entrance of a Clown, bounding in behind him, drew all eyes away, +however, and the Burglar was absorbed in the crowd. + +It was only a few minutes later that Cardinal Richelieu and the Mikado, +seeking diversion, isolated the Burglar and dragged him off to the +smoking-room. There the Czar of Russia, who was on such terms of +intimacy with the Mikado that he called him Mike, joined them, and they +smoked together. + +"How did you ever come to hit on a costume like that?" asked the +Cardinal of the Burglar. + +The Burglar laughed, disclosing two rows of strong, white teeth. A cleft +in the square-cut, clean-shaven chin, visible below the mask, became +more pronounced. A woman would have called it a dimple. + +"I wanted something different," he explained. "I couldn't imagine +anything more extraordinary than a real burglar here ready to do +business, so I came." + +"It's lucky the police didn't see you," remarked the Czar. + +Again the Burglar laughed. He was evidently a good-natured craftsman, +despite his sinister garb. + +"That was my one fear--that I would be pinched before I arrived," he +replied. "'Pinched,' I may explain, is a technical term in my profession +meaning jugged, nabbed, collared, run in. It seemed that my fears had +some foundation, too, for when I drove up in my auto and stepped out a +couple of plain-clothes men stared at me pretty hard." + +He laid aside the dark lantern and revolver to light a fresh cigarette. +The Mikado picked up the lantern and flashed the light on and off +several times, while the Czar sighted the revolver at the floor. + +"Better not do that," suggested the Burglar casually. "It's loaded." + +"Loaded?" repeated the Czar. He laid down the revolver gingerly. + +"Surest thing, you know," and the Burglar laughed quizzically. "I'm the +real thing, you see, so naturally my revolver is loaded. I think I ought +to be able to make quite a good haul, as we say, before unmasking-time." + +"If you're as clever as your appearance would indicate," said the +Cardinal admiringly, "I see no reason why it shouldn't be worth while. +You might, for instance, make a collection of Elizabethan jewels. I +have noticed four Elizabeths so far, and it's early yet." + +"Oh, I'll make it pay," the Burglar assured him lightly. "I'm pretty +clever; practised a good deal, you know. Just to show you that I am an +expert, here is a watch and pin I took from my friend, the Czar, five +minutes ago." + +He extended a well-gloved hand in which lay the watch and diamond pin. +The Czar stared at them a moment in frank astonishment; patted himself +all over in sudden trepidation; then laughed sheepishly. The Mikado +tilted his cigar up to a level with the slant eyes of his mask, and +laughed. + +"In the language of diplomacy, Nick," he told the Czar, "you are what is +known as 'easy.' I thought I had convinced you of that." + +"Gad, you are clever," remarked the Cardinal. "I might have used you +along with D'Artagnan and the others." + +The Burglar laughed again and stood up lazily. + +"Come on, this is stupid," he suggested. "Let's go out and see what's +doing." + +"Say, just between ourselves tell us who you are," urged the Czar. "Your +voice seems familiar, but I can't place you." + +"Wait till unmasking-time," retorted the Burglar good-naturedly. "Then +you'll know. Or if you think you could bribe that stone image who took +my card at the door you might try. He'll remember me. I never saw a man +so startled in all my life as he was when I appeared." + +The quartet sauntered out into the ballroom just as the signal for the +grand march was given. A few minutes later the kaleidoscopic picture +began to move. Stuyvesant Randolph, the host, as Sir Walter Raleigh, and +his superb wife, as Cleopatra, looked upon the mass of colour, and +gleaming shoulders, and jewels, and brilliant uniforms, and found it +good--extremely good. + +Mr. Randolph smiled behind his mask at the striking incongruities on +every hand: Queen Elizabeth and Mr. Micawber; Cardinal Richelieu and a +Pierrette; a Clown dancing attendance on Marie Antoinette. The Czar of +Russia paid deep and devoted attention to a light-footed Geisha girl, +while the Mikado and Folly, a jingling thing in bells and abbreviated +skirts, romped together. + +The grotesque figure of the march was the Burglar. His revolver was +thrust carelessly into a pocket and the dark lantern hung at his belt. +He was pouring a stream of pleasing nonsense into the august ear of Lady +Macbeth, nimbly seeking at the same time to evade the pompous train of +the Dowager Empress. The grand march came to an end and the chattering +throng broke up into little groups. + +Cardinal Richelieu strolled along with a Pierrette on his arm. + +"Business good?" he inquired of the Burglar. + +"Expect it to be," was the reply. + +The Pierrette came and, standing on her tip-toes--silly, impractical +sort of toes they were--made a _moue_ at the Burglar. + +"Oooh!" she exclaimed. "You are perfectly horrid." + +"Thank you," retorted the Burglar. + +He bowed gravely, and the Cardinal, with his companion, passed on. The +Burglar stood gazing after them a moment, then glanced around the room, +curiously, two or three times. He might have been looking for someone. +Finally he wandered away aimlessly through the crowd. + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER II + + +Half an hour later the Burglar stood alone, thoughtfully watching the +dancers as they whirled by. A light hand fell on his arm--he started a +little--and in his ear sounded a voice soft with the tone of a caress. + +"Excellent, Dick, excellent!" + +The Burglar turned quickly to face a girl--a Girl of the Golden West, +with deliciously rounded chin, slightly parted rose-red lips, and +sparkling, eager eyes as blue as--as blue as--well, they were blue eyes. +An envious mask hid cheeks and brow, but above a sombrero was perched +arrogantly on crisp, ruddy-gold hair, flaunting a tricoloured ribbon. A +revolver swung at her hip--the wrong hip--and a Bowie knife, singularly +inoffensive in appearance, was thrust through her girdle. The Burglar +looked curiously a moment, then smiled. + +[Illustration: "An envious mask hid cheeks and brow"] + +"How did you know me?" he asked. + +"By your chin," she replied. "You can never hide yourself behind a mask +that doesn't cover that." + +The Burglar touched his chin with one gloved hand. + +"I forgot that," he remarked ruefully. + +"Hadn't you seen me?" + +"No." + +The Girl drew nearer and laid one hand lightly on his arm; her voice +dropped mysteriously. + +"Is everything ready?" she asked. + +"Oh, yes," he assured her quickly. His voice, too, was lowered +cautiously. + +"Did you come in the auto?" + +"Yes." + +"And the casket?" + +For an instant the Burglar hesitated. + +"The casket?" he repeated. + +"Certainly, the casket. Did you get it all right?" + +The Burglar looked at her with a new, businesslike expression on his +lips. The Girl returned his steady gaze for an instant, then her eyes +dropped. A faint colour glowed in her white chin. The Burglar suddenly +laughed admiringly. + +"Yes, I got it," he said. + +She took a deep breath quickly, and her white hands fluttered a little. + +"We will have to go in a few minutes, won't we?" she asked uneasily. + +"I suppose so," he replied. + +"Certainly before unmasking-time," she said, "because--because I think +there is someone here who knows, or suspects, that----" + +"Suspects what?" demanded the Burglar. + +"Sh-h-h-h!" warned the Girl, and she laid a finger on her lips. "Not so +loud. Someone might hear. Here are some people coming now that I'm +afraid of. They know me. Meet me in the conservatory in five minutes. I +don't want them to see me talking to you." + +She moved away quickly and the Burglar looked after her with admiration +and some impalpable quality other than that in his eyes. He was turning +away toward the conservatory when he ran into the arms of an oversized +man lumpily clad in the dress of a courtier. The lumpy individual stood +back and sized him up. + +"Say, young fellow, that's a swell rig you got there," he remarked. + +The Burglar glanced at him in polite astonishment--perhaps it was the +tone of the remark. + +"Glad you like it," he said coldly, and passed on. + +As he waited in the conservatory the amusement died out of his eyes and +his lips were drawn into a straight, sharp line. He had seen the lumpy +individual speak to another man, indicating generally the direction of +the conservatory as he did so. After a moment the Girl returned in deep +agitation. + +"We must go now--at once," she whispered hurriedly. "They suspect us. I +know it, I know it!" + +"I'm afraid so," said the Burglar grimly. "That's why that detective +spoke to me." + +"Detective?" gasped the Girl. + +"Yes, a detective disguised as a gentleman." + +"Oh, if they are watching us what shall we do?" + +The Burglar glanced out, and seeing the man to whom the lumpy individual +had spoken coming toward the conservatory, turned suddenly to the Girl. + +"Do you really want to go with me?" he asked. + +"Certainly," she replied eagerly. + +"You are making no mistake?" + +"No, Dick, no!" she said again. "But if we are caught----" + +"Do as I say and we won't be caught," declared the Burglar. His tone now +was sharp, commanding. "You go on alone toward the front door. Pass out +as if to get a breath of fresh air. I'll follow in a minute. Watch for +me. This detective is getting too curious for comfort. Outside we'll +take the first auto and run for it." + +He thoughtfully whirled the barrel of his revolver in his fingers as he +stared out into the ballroom. The Girl clung to him helplessly a moment; +her hand trembled on his arm. + +"I'm frightened," she confessed. "Oh, Dick, if----" + +"Don't lose your nerve," he commanded. "If you do we'll both be caught. +Go on now, and do as I say. I'll come--but I may come in a hurry. Watch +for me." + +For just a moment more the Girl clung to his arm. + +"Oh, Dick, you darling!" she whispered. Then, turning, she left him +there. + +From the door of the conservatory the Burglar watched her splendid, +lithe figure as she threaded her way through the crowd. Finally she +passed beyond his view and he sauntered carelessly toward the door. Once +he glanced back. The lumpy individual was following slowly. Then he saw +a liveried servant approach the host and whisper to him excitedly. + +"This is my cue to move," the Burglar told himself grimly. + +Still watching, he saw the servant point directly at him. The host, with +a sudden gesture, tore off his mask and the Burglar accelerated his +pace. + +"Stop that man!" called the host. + +For one brief instant there was the dead silence which follows general +astonishment--and the Burglar ran for the door. Several pairs of hands +reached out from the crowd toward him. + +"There he goes, there!" exclaimed the Burglar excitedly. "That man +ahead! I'll catch him!" + +The ruse opened the way and he went through. The Girl was waiting at the +foot of the steps. + +"They're coming!" he panted as he dragged her along. "Climb in that last +car on the end there!" + +Without a word the Girl ran to the auto and clambered into the front +seat. Several men dashed out of the house. Wonderingly her eyes followed +the vague figure of the Burglar as he sped along in the shadow of a +wall. He paused beneath a window, picked up something and raced for the +car. + +"Stop him!" came a cry. + +The Burglar flung his burden, which fell at the Girl's feet with a +clatter, and leaped. The auto swayed as he landed beside her. With a +quick twist of the wheel he headed out. + +"Hurry, Dick, they're coming!" gasped the Girl. + +The motor beneath them whirred and panted and the car began to move. + +"Halt, or I'll fire," came another cry. + +"Down!" commanded the Burglar. + +His hand fell on the Girl's shoulder heavily and he dragged her below +the level of the seat. Then, bending low over the wheel, he gave the car +half power. It leaped out into the road in the path of its own light, +just as there came a pistol-shot from behind, followed instantly by +another. + +The car sped on. + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER III + + +Stuyvesant Randolph, millionaire, owner of Seven Oaks and host of the +masked ball, was able to tell the police only what happened, and not the +manner of its happening. Briefly, this was that a thief, cunningly +disguised as a Burglar with dark lantern and revolver in hand, had +surreptitiously attended the masked ball by entering at the front door +and presenting an invitation card. And when Mr. Randolph got this far in +his story even _he_ couldn't keep his face straight. + +The sum total of everyone's knowledge, therefore, was this: + +Soon after the grand march a servant entered the smoking room and found +the Burglar there alone, standing beside an open window, looking out. +This smoking room connected, by a corridor, with a small dining room +where the Randolph gold plate was kept in ostentatious seclusion. As +the servant entered the smoking-room the Burglar turned away from the +window and went out into the ballroom. He did not carry a bundle; he did +not appear to be excited. + +Fifteen or twenty minutes later the servant discovered that eleven +plates of the gold service, valued roughly at $15,000, were missing. He +informed Mr. Randolph. The information, naturally enough, did not +elevate the host's enjoyment of the ball, and he did things hastily. + +Meanwhile--that is, between the time when the Burglar left the +smoking-room and the time when he passed out the front door--the Burglar +had talked earnestly with a masked Girl of the West. It was established +that, when she left him in the conservatory, she went out the front +door. There she was joined by the Burglar, and then came their +sensational flight in the automobile--a 40 horse-power car that moved +like the wind. The automobile in which the Burglar had gone to Seven +Oaks was left behind; thus far it had not been claimed. + +The identity of the Burglar and the Girl made the mystery. It was easy +to conjecture--that's what the police said--how the Burglar got away +with the gold plate. He went into the smoking-room, then into the +dining-room, dropped the gold plate into a sack and threw the sack out +of a window. It was beautifully simple. Just what the Girl had to do +with it wasn't very clear; perhaps a score or more articles of jewelry, +which had been reported missing by guests, engaged her attention. + +It was also easy to see how the Burglar and the Girl had been able to +shake off pursuit by the police in two other automobiles. The car they +had chosen was admittedly the fastest of the scores there, the night was +pitch-dark, and, besides, a Burglar like that was liable to do anything. +Two shots had been fired at him by the lumpy courtier, who was really +Detective Cunningham, but they had only spurred him on. + +These things were easy to understand. But the identity of the pair was a +different and more difficult proposition, and there remained the task of +yanking them out of obscurity. This fell to the lot of Detective +Mallory, who represented the Supreme Police Intelligence of the +Metropolitan District, happily combining a No. 11 shoe and a No. 6 hat. +He was a cautious, suspicious, far-seeing man--as police detectives go. +For instance, it was he who explained the method of the theft with a +lucidity that was astounding. + +[Illustration] + +Detective Mallory and two or three of his satellites heard Mr. +Randolph's story, then the statements of his two men who had attended +the ball in costume, and the statements of the servants. After all this +Mr. Mallory chewed his cigar and thought violently for several minutes. +Mr. Randolph looked on expectantly; he didn't want to miss anything. + +"As I understand it, Mr. Randolph," said the Supreme Police Intelligence +at last, "each invitation-card presented at the door by your guests bore +the name of the person to whom it was issued?" + +"Yes," replied Mr. Randolph. + +"Ah!" exclaimed the detective shrewdly. "Then we have a clue." + +"Where are those cards, Curtis?" asked Mr. Randolph of the servant who +had received them at the door. + +"I didn't know they were of further value, sir, and they were thrown +away--into the furnace." + +Mr. Mallory was crestfallen. + +"Did you notice if the card presented at the door by the Burglar on the +evening of the masked ball at Seven Oaks bore a name?" he asked. He +liked to be explicit like that. + +"Yes, sir. I noticed it particularly because the gentleman was dressed +so queerly." + +"Do you remember the name?" + +"No, sir." + +"Would you remember it if you saw it or heard it again?" + +The servant looked at Mr. Randolph helplessly. + +"I don't think I would, sir," he answered. + +"And the Girl? Did you notice the card she gave you?" + +"I don't remember her at all, sir. Many of the ladies wore wraps when +they came in, and her costume would not have been noticeable if she had +on a wrap." + +The Supreme Intelligence was thoughtful for another few minutes. At last +he turned to Mr. Randolph again. + +"You are certain there was only _one_ man at that ball dressed as a +Burglar?" he asked. + +"Yes, thank Heaven," replied Mr. Randolph fervently. "If there'd been +another one they might have taken the piano." + +The Supreme Intelligence frowned. + +"And this girl was dressed like a Western girl?" he asked. + +"Yes. A sort of Spirit-of-the-West costume." + +"And no other woman there wore such a dress?" + +"No," responded Mr. Randolph. + +"No," echoed the two detectives. + +"Now, Mr. Randolph, how many invitations were issued for the ball?" + +"Three or four hundred. It's a big house," Mr. Randolph apologised, "and +we tried to do the thing properly." + +"How many persons do you suppose actually attended the ball?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Three hundred, perhaps." + +Detective Mallory thought again. + +"It's unquestionably the work of two bold and clever professional +crooks," he said at last judicially, and his satellites hung on his +words eagerly. "It has every ear-mark of it. They perhaps planned the +thing weeks before, and forged invitation-cards, or perhaps stole +them--perhaps stole them." + +He turned suddenly and pointed an accusing finger at the servant, +Curtis. + +"Did you notice the handwriting on the card the Burglar gave you?" he +demanded. + +"No, sir. Not particularly." + +"I mean, do you recall if it was different in any way from the +handwriting on the other cards?" insisted the Supreme Intelligence. + +"I don't think it was, sir." + +"If it had been would you have noticed it?" + +"I might have, sir." + +"Were the names written on all the invitation-cards by the same hand, +Mr. Randolph?" + +"Yes: my wife's secretary." + +Detective Mallory arose and paced back and forth across the room with +wrinkles in his brow. + +"Ah!" he said at last, "then we know the cards were not forged, but +stolen from someone to whom they had been sent. We know this much, +therefore----" he paused a moment. + +"Therefore all that must be done," Mr. Randolph finished the sentence, +"is to find from whom the card or cards were stolen, who presented them +at my door, and who got away with the plate." + +The Supreme Intelligence glared at him aggressively. Mr. Randolph's face +was perfectly serious. It was his gold plate, you know. + +"Yes, that's it," Detective Mallory assented. "Now we'll get after this +thing right. Downey, you get that automobile the Burglar left at Seven +Oaks and find its owner; also find the car the Burglar and the Girl +escaped in. Cunningham, you go to Seven Oaks and look over the premises. +See particularly if the Girl left a wrap--she didn't wear one away from +there--and follow that up. Blanton, you take a list of invited guests +that Mr. Randolph will give you, check off those persons who are known +to have been at the ball, and find out all about those who were not, +and--follow that up." + +"That'll take weeks!" complained Blanton. + +The Supreme Intelligence turned on him fiercely. + +"Well?" he demanded. He continued to stare for a moment, and Blanton +wrinkled up in the baleful glow of his superior's scorn. "And," +Detective Mallory added magnanimously, "I will do the rest." + +Thus the campaign was planned against the Burglar and the Girl. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Hutchinson Hatch was a newspaper reporter, a long, lean, hungry looking +young man with an insatiable appetite for facts. This last was, perhaps, +an astonishing trait in a reporter; and Hatch was positively finicky on +the point. That's why his City Editor believed in him. If Hatch had come +in and told his City Editor that he had seen a blue elephant with pink +side-whiskers his City Editor would have _known_ that that elephant was +blue--mentally, morally, physically, spiritually and everlastingly--not +any washed-out green or purple, but blue. + +Hatch was remarkable in other ways, too. For instance, he believed in +the use of a little human intelligence in his profession. As a matter of +fact, on several occasions he had demonstrated that it was really an +excellent thing--human intelligence. His mind was well poised, his +methods thorough, his style direct. + +Along with dozens of others Hatch was at work on the Randolph robbery, +and knew what the others knew--no more. He had studied the case so +closely that he was beginning to believe, strangely enough, that perhaps +the police were right in their theory as to the identity of the Burglar +and the Girl--that is, that they were professional crooks. He could do a +thing like that sometimes--bring his mind around to admit the +possibility of somebody else being right. + +It was on Saturday afternoon--two days after the Randolph affair--that +Hatch was sitting in Detective Mallory's private office at Police +Headquarters laboriously extracting from the Supreme Intelligence the +precise things he had not found out about the robbery. The +telephone-bell rang. Hatch got one end of the conversation--he couldn't +help it. It was something like this: + +"Hello!... Yes, Detective Mallory.... Missing?... What's her name?... +What?... Oh, Dorothy!... Yes?... Merritt?... Oh, Merryman!... Well, what +the deuce is it then?... _SPELL IT!_... M-e-r-e-d-i-t-h. Why didn't you +say that at first?... How long has she been gone?... Huh?... Thursday +evening?... What does she look like?... Auburn hair. Red, you mean?... +Oh, ruddy! I'd like to know what's the difference." + +The detective had drawn up a pad of paper and was jotting down what +Hatch imagined to be the description of a missing girl. Then: + +"Who is this talking?" asked the detective. + +There was a little pause as he got the answer, and, having the answer, +he whistled his astonishment, after which he glanced around quickly at +the reporter, who was staring dreamily out a window. + +"No," said the Supreme Intelligence over the 'phone. "It wouldn't be +wise to make it public. It isn't necessary at all. I understand. I'll +order a search immediately. No. The newspapers will get nothing of it. +Good-by." + +"A story?" inquired Hatch carelessly as the detective hung up the +receiver. + +"Doesn't amount to anything," was the reply. + +"Yes, that's obvious," remarked the reporter drily. + +"Well, whatever it is, it is not going to be made public," retorted the +Supreme Intelligence sharply. He never did like Hatch, anyway. "It's one +of those things that don't do any good in the newspapers, so I'll not +let this one get there." + +Hatch yawned to show that he had no further interest in the matter, and +went out. But there was the germ of an idea in his head which would have +startled Detective Mallory, and he paced up and down outside to develop +it. A girl missing! A red-headed girl missing! A red-headed girl missing +since Thursday! Thursday was the night of the Randolph masked ball. The +missing Girl of the West was red-headed! Mallory had seemed astonished +when he learned the name of the person who reported this last case! +Therefore the person who reported it was high up--perhaps! Certainly +high enough up to ask and receive the courtesy of police +suppression--and the missing girl's name was Dorothy Meredith! + +Hatch stood still for a long time on the curb and figured it out. +Suddenly he rushed off to a telephone and called up Stuyvesant Randolph +at Seven Oaks. He asked the first question with trepidation: + +"Mr. Randolph, can you give me the address of Miss Dorothy Meredith?" + +"Miss Meredith?" came the answer. "Let's see. I think she is stopping +with the Morgan Greytons, at their suburban place." + +The reporter gulped down a shout. "Worked, by thunder!" he exclaimed to +himself. Then, in a deadly, forced calm: + +"She attended the masked ball Thursday evening, didn't she?" + +"Well, she was invited." + +"You didn't see her there?" + +"No. Who _is_ this?" + +Then Hatch hung up the receiver. He was nearly choking with excitement, +for, in addition to all those virtues which have been enumerated, he +possessed, too, the quality of enthusiasm. It was no part of his purpose +to tell anybody anything. Mallory didn't know, he was confident, +anything of the girl having been a possible guest at the ball. And what +Mallory didn't know now wouldn't be found out, all of which was a sad +reflection upon the detective. + +In this frame of mind Hatch started for the suburban place of the +Greytons. He found the house without difficulty. Morgan Greyton was an +aged gentleman of wealth and exclusive ideas--and wasn't in. Hatch +handed a card bearing only his name, to a maid, and after a few minutes +Mrs. Greyton appeared. She was a motherly, sweet-faced old lady of +seventy, with that grave, exquisite courtesy which makes mere man feel +ashamed of himself. Hatch had that feeling when he looked at her and +thought of what he was going to ask. + +"I came up direct from Police Headquarters," he explained +diplomatically, "to learn any details you may be able to give us as to +the disappearance of Miss Meredith." + +"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Greyton. "My husband said he was going to ask +the police to look into the matter. It is most mysterious--most +mysterious! We can't imagine where Dollie is, unless she has eloped. Do +you know that idea keeps coming to me and won't go away?" + +She spoke as if it were a naughty child. + +"If you'll tell me something about Miss Meredith--who she is and all +that?" Hatch suggested. + +"Oh, yes, to be sure," exclaimed Mrs. Greyton. "Dollie is a distant +cousin of my husband's sister's husband," she explained precisely. "She +lives in Baltimore, but is visiting us. She has been here for several +weeks. She's a dear, sweet girl, but I'm afraid--afraid she has eloped." + +The aged voice quivered a little, and Hatch was more ashamed of himself +than ever. + +"Some time ago she met a man named Herbert--Richard Herbert, I think, +and----" + +"Dick Herbert?" the reporter exclaimed suddenly. + +"Do you know the young gentleman?" inquired the old lady eagerly. + +"Yes, it just happens that we were classmates in Harvard," said the +reporter. + +"And is he a nice young man?" + +"A good, clean-cut, straightforward, decent man," replied Hatch. He +could speak with a certain enthusiasm about Dick Herbert. "Go on, +please," he urged. + +"Well, for some reason I don't know, Dollie's father objects to Mr. +Herbert's attentions to her--as a matter of fact, Mr. Meredith has +absolutely prohibited them--but she's a young, headstrong girl, and I +fear that, although she had outwardly yielded to her father's wishes, +she had clandestinely kept up a correspondence with Mr. Herbert. Last +Thursday evening she went out unattended and since then we have not +heard from her--not a word. We can only surmise--my husband and I--that +they have eloped. I know her father and mother will be heart-broken, but +I have always noticed that if a girl sets her heart on a man, she will +get him. And perhaps it's just as well that she _has_ eloped now since +you assure me he is a nice young man." + +Hatch was choking back a question that rose in his throat. He hated to +ask it, because he felt this dear, garrulous old woman would have hated +him for it, if she could have known its purpose. But at last it came. + +"Do you happen to know," he asked, "if Miss Meredith attended the +Randolph ball at Seven Oaks on Thursday evening?" + +"I dare say she received an invitation," was the reply. "She receives +many invitations, but I don't think she went there. It was a costume +affair, I suppose?" + +The reporter nodded. + +"Well, I hardly believe she went there then," Mrs. Greyton replied. "She +has had no costume of any sort made. No, I am positive she has eloped +with Mr. Herbert, but I should like to hear from her to satisfy myself +and explain to her parents. We did not permit Mr. Herbert to come here, +and it will be very hard to explain." + +Hatch heard the slight rustle of a skirt in the hall and glanced toward +the door. No one appeared, and he turned back to Mrs. Greyton. + +"I don't suppose it possible that Miss Meredith has returned to +Baltimore?" he asked. + +"Oh, no!" was the positive reply. "Her father there telegraphed to her +to-day--I opened it--saying he would be here, probably to-night, and +I--I haven't the heart to tell him the truth when he arrives. Somehow, I +have been hoping that we would hear and--and----" + +Then Hatch took his shame in his hand and excused himself. The maid +attended him to the door. + +"How much is it worth to you to know if Miss Meredith went to the masked +ball?" asked the maid cautiously. + +"Eavesdropping, eh?" asked Hatch in disgust. + +The maid shrugged her shoulders. + +"How much is it worth?" she repeated. + +Hatch extended his hand. She took a ten-dollar bill which lay there and +secreted it in some remote recess of her being. + +"Miss Meredith did go to the ball," she said. "She went there to meet +Mr. Herbert. They had arranged to elope from there and she had made all +her plans. I was in her confidence and assisted her." + +"What did she wear?" asked Hatch eagerly. + +"Her costume was that of a Western Girl," the maid responded. "She wore +a sombrero, and carried a Bowie knife and revolver." + +Hatch nearly swallowed his palate. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Hatch started back to the city with his brain full of seven-column +heads. He thoughtfully lighted a cigar just before he stepped on the +car. + +"No smoking," said the conductor. + +The reporter stared at him with dull eyes and then went in and sat down +with the cigar in his mouth. + +"No smoking, I told you," bawled the conductor. + +"Certainly not," exclaimed Hatch indignantly. He turned and glared at +the only other occupant of the car, a little girl. She wasn't smoking. +Then he looked at the conductor and awoke suddenly. + +"Miss Meredith is the girl," Hatch was thinking. "Mallory doesn't even +dream it and never will. He won't send a man out there to do what I did. +The Greytons are anxious to keep it quiet, and they won't say anything +to anybody else until they know what really happened. I've got it +bottled up, and don't know how to pull the cork. Now, the question is: +What possible connection can there be between Dorothy Meredith and the +Burglar? Was Dick Herbert the Burglar? Why, of course _not_! +Then--what?" + +Pondering all these things deeply, Hatch left the car and ran up to see +Dick Herbert. He was too self-absorbed to notice that the blinds of the +house were drawn. He rang, and after a long time a man-servant answered +the bell. + +"Mr. Herbert here?" Hatch asked. + +"Yes, sir, he's here," replied the servant, "but I don't know if he can +see you. He is not very well, sir." + +"Not very well?" Hatch repeated. + +"No, it's not that he's sick, sir. He was hurt and----" + +"Who is it, Blair?" came Herbert's voice from the top of the stair. + +"Mr. Hatch, sir." + +"Come up, Hatch!" Dick called cordially. "Glad to see you. I'm so +lonesome here I don't know what to do with myself." + +The reporter ran up the steps and into Dick's room. + +"Not that one," Dick smiled as Hatch reached for his right hand. "It's +out of business. Try this one----" And he offered his left. + +"What's the matter?" Hatch inquired. + +"Little hurt, that's all," said Dick. "Sit down. I got it knocked out +the other night and I've been here in this big house alone with Blair +ever since. The doctor told me not to venture out yet. It has been +lonesome, too. All the folks are away, up in Nova Scotia, and took the +other servants along. How are you, anyhow?" + +Hatch sat down and stared at Dick thoughtfully. Herbert was a +good-looking, forceful person of twenty-eight or thirty, and a corking +right-guard. Now he seemed a little washed out, and there was a sort of +pallor beneath the natural tan. He was a young man of family, unburdened +by superlative wealth, but possessing in his own person the primary +elements of success. He looked what Hatch had said of him: a "good, +clean-cut, straightforward, decent man." + +"I came up here to say something to you in my professional capacity," +the reporter began at last; "and frankly, I don't know how to say it." + +Dick straightened up in his chair with a startled expression on his +face. He didn't speak, but there was something in his eyes which +interested Hatch immensely. + +"Have you been reading the papers?" the reporter asked--"that is, during +the last couple of days?" + +"Yes." + +"Of course, then, you've seen the stories about the Randolph robbery?" + +Dick smiled a little. + +"Yes," he said. "Clever, wasn't it?" + +"It was," Hatch responded enthusiastically. "It was." He was silent for +a moment as he accepted and lighted a cigarette. "It doesn't happen," he +went on, "that, by any possible chance, you know anything about it, does +it?" + +"Not beyond what I saw in the papers. Why?" + +"I'll be frank and ask you some questions, Dick," Hatch resumed in a +tone which betrayed his discomfort. "Remember I am here in my official +capacity--that is, not as a friend of yours, but as a reporter. You need +not answer the questions if you don't want to." + +Dick arose with a little agitation in his manner and went over and stood +beside the window. + +"What is it all about?" he demanded. "What are the questions?" + +"Do you know where Miss Dorothy Meredith is?" + +Dick turned suddenly and glared at him with a certain lowering of his +eyebrows which Hatch knew from the football days. + +"What about her?" he asked. + +"Where is she?" Hatch insisted. + +"At home, so far as I know. Why?" + +"She is not there," the reporter informed him, "and the Greytons believe +that you eloped with her." + +"Eloped with her?" Dick repeated. "She is not at home?" + +"No. She's been missing since Thursday evening--the evening of the +Randolph affair. Mr. Greyton has asked the police to look for her, and +they are doing so now, but quietly. It is not known to the +newspapers--that is, to other newspapers. Your name has not been +mentioned to the police. Now, isn't it a fact that you did intend to +elope with her on Thursday evening?" + +Dick strode feverishly across the room several times, then stopped in +front of Hatch's chair. + +"This isn't any silly joke?" he asked fiercely. + +"Isn't it a fact that you did intend to elope with her on Thursday +evening?" the reporter went on steadily. + +"I won't answer that question." + +"Did you get an invitation to the Randolph ball?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you go?" + +Dick was staring straight down into his eyes. + +"I won't answer that, either," he said after a pause. + +"Where were you on the evening of the masked ball?" + +"Nor will I answer that." + +When the newspaper instinct is fully aroused a reporter has no friends. +Hatch had forgotten that he ever knew Dick Herbert. To him the young man +was now merely a thing from which he might wring certain information for +the benefit of the palpitating public. + +"Did the injury to your arm," he went on after the approved manner of +attorney for the prosecution, "prevent you going to the ball?" + +"I won't answer that." + +"What is the nature of the injury?" + +"Now, see here, Hatch," Dick burst out, and there was a dangerous +undertone in his manner, "I shall not answer any more +questions--particularly that last one--unless I know what this is all +about. Several things happened on the evening of the masked ball that I +can't go over with you or anyone else, but as for me having any personal +knowledge of events at the masked ball--well, you and I are not talking +of the same thing at all." + +He paused, started to say something else, then changed his mind and was +silent. + +"Was it a pistol shot?" Hatch went on calmly. + +Dick's lips were compressed to a thin line as he looked at the reporter, +and he controlled himself only by an effort. + +"Where did you get that idea?" he demanded. + +Hatch would have hesitated a long time before he told him where he got +that idea; but vaguely it had some connection with the fact that at +least two shots were fired at the Burglar and the Girl when they raced +away from Seven Oaks. + +While the reporter was rummaging through his mind for an answer to the +question there came a rap at the door and Blair appeared with a card. He +handed it to Dick, who glanced at it, looked a little surprised, then +nodded. Blair disappeared. After a moment there were footsteps on the +stairs and Stuyvesant Randolph entered. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Dick arose and offered his left hand to Mr. Randolph, who calmly ignored +it, turning his gaze instead upon the reporter. + +"I had hoped to find you alone," he said frostily. + +Hatch made as if to rise. + +"Sit still, Hatch," Dick commanded. "Mr. Hatch is a friend of mine, Mr. +Randolph. I don't know what you want to say, but whatever it is, you may +say it freely before him." + +Hatch knew that humour in Dick. It always preceded the psychological +moment when he wanted to climb down someone's throat and open an +umbrella. The tone was calm, the words clearly enunciated, and the face +was white--whiter than it had been before. + +"I shouldn't like to----" Mr. Randolph began. + +"You may say what you want to before Mr. Hatch, or not at all, as you +please," Dick went on evenly. + +Mr. Randolph cleared his throat twice and waved his hands with an +expression of resignation. + +"Very well," he replied. "I have come to request the return of my gold +plate." + +Hatch leaned forward in his chair, gripping its arms fiercely. This was +a question bearing broadly on a subject that he wanted to mention, but +he didn't know how. Mr. Randolph apparently found it easy enough. + +"What gold plate?" asked Dick steadily. + +"The eleven pieces that you, in the garb of a Burglar, took from my +house last Thursday evening," said Mr. Randolph. He was quite calm. + +Dick took a sudden step forward, then straightened up with flushed face. +His left hand closed with a snap and the nails bit into the flesh; the +fingers of the helpless right hand worked nervously. In a minute now +Hatch could see him climbing all over Mr. Randolph. + +But again Dick gained control of himself. It was a sort of recognition +of the fact that Mr. Randolph was fifty years old; Hatch knew it; Mr. +Randolph's knowledge on the subject didn't appear. Suddenly Dick +laughed. + +"Sit down, Mr. Randolph, and tell me about it," he suggested. + +"It isn't necessary to go into details," continued Mr. Randolph, still +standing. "I had not wanted to go this far in the presence of a third +person, but you forced me to do it. Now, will you or will you not return +the plate?" + +"Would you mind telling me just what makes you think I got it?" Dick +insisted. + +"It is as simple as it is conclusive," said Mr. Randolph. "You received +an invitation to the masked ball. You went there in your Burglar garb +and handed your invitation-card to my servant. He noticed you +particularly and read your name on the card. He remembered that name +perfectly. I was compelled to tell the story as I knew it to Detective +Mallory. I did not mention your name; my servant remembered it, had +given it to me in fact, but I forbade him to repeat it to the police. He +told them something about having burned the invitation-cards." + +"Oh, wouldn't that please Mallory?" Hatch thought. + +"I have not even intimated to the police that I have the least idea of +your identity," Mr. Randolph went on, still standing. "I had believed +that it was some prank of yours and that the plate would be returned in +due time. Certainly I could not account for you taking it in any other +circumstances. My reticence, it is needless to say, was in consideration +of your name and family. But now I want the plate. If it was a prank to +carry out the role of the Burglar, it is time for it to end. If the fact +that the matter is now in the hands of the police has frightened you +into the seeming necessity of keeping the plate for the present to +protect yourself, you may dismiss that. When the plate is returned to me +I shall see that the police drop the matter." + +Dick had listened with absorbed interest. Hatch looked at him from time +to time and saw only attention--not anger. + +"And the Girl?" asked Dick at last. "Does it happen that you have as +cleverly traced her?" + +"No," Mr. Randolph replied frankly. "I haven't the faintest idea who she +is. I suppose no one knows that but you. I have no interest further than +to recover the plate. I may say that I called here yesterday, Friday, +and asked to see you, but was informed that you had been hurt, so I went +away to give you opportunity to recover somewhat." + +"Thanks," said Dick drily. "Awfully considerate." + +There was a long silence. Hatch was listening with all the multitudinous +ears of a good reporter. + +"Now the plate," Mr. Randolph suggested again impatiently. "Do you deny +that you got it?" + +"I do," replied Dick firmly. + +"I was afraid you would, and, believe me, Mr. Herbert, such a course is +a mistaken one," said Mr. Randolph. "I will give you twenty-four hours +to change your mind. If, at the end of that time, you see fit to return +the plate, I shall drop the matter and use my influence to have the +police do so. If the plate is not returned I shall be compelled to turn +over all the facts to the police with your name." + +"Is that all?" Dick demanded suddenly. + +"Yes, I believe so." + +"Then get out of here before I----" Dick started forward, then dropped +back into a chair. + +Mr. Randolph drew on his gloves and went out, closing the door behind +him. + +For a long time Dick sat there, seemingly oblivious of Hatch's presence, +supporting his head with his left hand, while the right hung down +loosely beside him. Hatch was inclined to be sympathetic, for, strange +as it may seem, some reporters have even the human quality of +sympathy--although there are persons who will not believe it. + +"Is there anything I can do?" Hatch asked at last. "Anything you want to +say?" + +"Nothing," Dick responded wearily. "Nothing. You may think what you +like. There are, as I said, several things of which I cannot speak, +even if it comes to a question--a question of having to face the charge +of theft in open court. I simply _can't_ say anything." + +"But--but----" stammered the reporter. + +"Absolutely not another word," said Dick firmly. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Those satellites of the Supreme Police Intelligence of the Metropolitan +District who had been taking the Randolph mystery to pieces to see what +made it tick, lined up in front of Detective Mallory, in his private +office, at police headquarters, early Saturday evening. They did not +seem happy. The Supreme Intelligence placed his feet on the desk and +glowered; that was a part of the job. + +"Well, Downey?" he asked. + +"I went out to Seven Oaks and got the automobile the Burglar left, as +you instructed," reported Downey. "Then I started out to find its owner, +or someone who knew it. It didn't have a number on it, so the job wasn't +easy, but I found the owner all right, all right." + +Detective Mallory permitted himself to look interested. + +"He lives at Merton, four miles from Seven Oaks," Downey resumed. "His +name is Blake--William Blake. His auto was in the shed a hundred feet or +so from his house on Thursday evening at nine o'clock. It wasn't there +Friday morning." + +"Umph!" remarked Detective Mallory. + +"There is no question but what Blake told me the truth," Downey went on. +"To me it seems provable that the Burglar went out from the city to +Merton by train, stole the auto and ran it on to Seven Oaks. That's all +there seems to be to it. Blake proved ownership of the machine and I +left it with him." + +The Supreme Intelligence chewed his cigar frantically. + +"And the other machine?" he asked. + +"I have here a blood-stained cushion, the back of a seat from the car in +which the Burglar and the Girl escaped," continued Downey in a +walk-right-up-ladies-and-gentlemen sort of voice. "I found the car late +this afternoon at a garage in Pleasantville. We knew, of course, that it +belonged to Nelson Sharp, a guest at the masked ball. According to the +manager of the garage the car was standing in front of his place this +morning when he arrived to open up. The number had been removed." + +[Illustration] + +Detective Mallory examined the cushion which Downey handed to him. +Several dark brown stains told the story--one of the occupants of the +car had been wounded. + +"Well, that's something," commented the Supreme Intelligence. "We know +now that when Cunningham fired at least one of the persons in the car +was hit, and we may make our search accordingly. The Burglar and the +Girl probably left the car where it was found during the preceding +night." + +"It seems so," said Downey. "I shouldn't think they would have dared to +keep it long. Autos of that size and power are too easily traced. I +asked Mr. Sharp to run down and identify the car and he did so. The +stains were new." + +The Supreme Intelligence digested that in silence while his satellites +studied his face, seeking some inkling of the convolutions of that +marvellous mind. + +"Very good, Downey," said Detective Mallory at last. "Now Cunningham?" + +"Nothing," said Cunningham in shame and sorrow. "Nothing." + +"Didn't you find anything at all about the premises?" + +"Nothing," repeated Cunningham. "The Girl left no wrap at Seven Oaks. +None of the servants remembers having seen her in the room where the +wraps were checked. I searched all around the place and found a dent in +the ground under the smoking-room window, where the gold plate had been +thrown, and there were what seemed to be footprints in the grass, but it +was all nothing." + +"We can't arrest a dent and footprints," said the Supreme Intelligence +cuttingly. + +The satellites laughed sadly. It was part of the deference they owed to +the Supreme Intelligence. + +"And you, Blanton?" asked Mr. Mallory. "What did you do with the list of +invited guests?" + +"I haven't got a good start yet," responded Blanton hopelessly. "There +are three hundred and sixty names on the list. I have been able to see +possibly thirty. It's worse than making a city directory. I won't be +through for a month. Randolph and his wife checked off a large number of +these whom they knew were there. The others I am looking up as rapidly +as I can." + +The detectives sat moodily thoughtful for uncounted minutes. Finally +Detective Mallory broke the silence. + +[Illustration: "'The stains were new'"] + +"There seems to be no question but that any clew that might have come +from either of the automobiles is disposed of unless it is the fact that +we now know one of the thieves was wounded. I readily see how the +theft could have been committed by a man as bold as this fellow. Now we +must concentrate all our efforts to running down the invited guests and +learning just where they were that evening. All of you will have to get +on this job and hustle it. We know that the Burglar _did_ present an +invitation-card with a name on it." + +The detectives went their respective ways and then Detective Mallory +deigned to receive representatives of the press, among them Hutchinson +Hatch. Hatch was worried. He knew a whole lot of things, but they didn't +do him any good. He felt that he could print nothing as it stood, yet he +would not tell the police, because that would give it to everyone else, +and he had a picture of how the Supreme Intelligence would tangle it if +he got hold of it. + +"Well, boys," said Detective Mallory smilingly, when the press filed in, +"there's nothing to say. Frankly, I will tell you that we have not been +able to learn anything--at least anything that can be given out. You +know, of course, about the finding of the two automobiles that figured +in the case, and the blood-stained cushion?" + +The press nodded collectively. + +"Well, that's all there is yet. My men are still at work, but I'm a +little afraid the gold plate will never be found. It has probably been +melted up. The cleverness of the thieves you can judge for yourself by +the manner in which they handled the automobiles." + +And yet Hatch was not surprised when, late that night, Police +Headquarters made known the latest sensation. This was a bulletin, based +on a telephone message from Stuyvesant Randolph to the effect that the +gold plate had been returned by express to Seven Oaks. This mystified +the police beyond description; but official mystification was as nothing +to Hatch's state of mind. He knew of the scene in Dick Herbert's room +and remembered Mr. Randolph's threat. + +"Then Dick _did_ have the plate," he told himself. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Whole flocks of detectives, reporters, and newspaper artists appeared at +Seven Oaks early next morning. It had been too late to press an +investigation the night before. The newspapers had only time +telephonically to confirm the return of the plate. Now the investigators +unanimously voiced one sentiment: "Show us!" + +Hatch arrived in the party headed by Detective Mallory, with Downey and +Cunningham trailing. Blanton was off somewhere with his little list, +presumably still at it. Mr. Randolph had not come down to breakfast when +the investigators arrived, but had given his servant permission to +exhibit the plate, the wrappings in which it had come, and the string +wherewith it had been tied. + +The plate arrived in a heavy paper-board box, covered twice over with a +plain piece of stiff brown paper, which had no markings save the +address and the "paid" stamp of the express company. Detective Mallory +devoted himself first to the address. It was: + + MR. STUYVESANT RANDOLPH, + "Seven Oaks," + via Merton. + +In the upper left-hand corner were scribbled the words: + + From John Smith, + State Street, + Watertown. + +Detectives Mallory, Downey, and Cunningham studied the handwriting on +the paper minutely. + +"It's a man's," said Detective Downey. + +"It's a woman's," said Detective Cunningham. + +"It's a child's," said Detective Mallory. + +"Whatever it is, it is disguised," said Hatch. + +He was inclined to agree with Detective Cunningham that it was a woman's +purposely altered, and in that event--Great Caesar! There came that flock +of seven-column heads again! And he couldn't open the bottle! + +The simple story of the arrival of the gold plate at Seven Oaks was told +thrillingly by the servant. + +"It was eight o'clock last night," he said. "I was standing in the hall +here. Mr. and Mrs. Randolph were still at the dinner table. They dined +alone. Suddenly I heard the sound of waggon-wheels on the granolithic +road in front of the house. I listened intently. Yes, it was +waggon-wheels." + +The detectives exchanged significant glances. + +"I heard the waggon stop," the servant went on in an awed tone. "Still I +listened. Then came the sound of footsteps on the walk and then on the +steps. I walked slowly along the hall toward the front door. As I did so +the bell rang." + +"Yes, ting-a-ling-a-ling, we know. Go on," Hatch interrupted +impatiently. + +"I opened the door," the servant continued. "A man stood there with a +package. He was a burly fellow. 'Mr. Randolph live here?' he asked +gruffly. 'Yes,' I said. 'Here's a package for him,' said the man. 'Sign +here.' I took the package and signed a book he gave me, and--and----" + +"In other words," Hatch interrupted again, "an expressman brought the +package here, you signed for it, and he went away?" + +The servant stared at him haughtily. + +"Yes, that's it," he said coldly. + +A few minutes later Mr. Randolph in person appeared. He glanced at Hatch +with a little surprise in his manner, nodded curtly, then turned to the +detectives. + +He could not add to the information the servant had given. His plate had +been returned, pre-paid. The matter was at an end so far as he was +concerned. There seemed to be no need of further investigation. + +"How about the jewelry that was stolen from your other guests?" demanded +Detective Mallory. + +"Of course, there's that," said Mr. Randolph. "It had passed out of my +mind." + +"Instead of being at an end this case has just begun," the detective +declared emphatically. + +Mr. Randolph seemed to have no further interest in the matter. He +started out, then turned back at the door, and made a slight motion to +Hatch which the reporter readily understood. As a result Hatch and Mr. +Randolph were closeted together in a small room across the hall a few +minutes later. + +"May I ask your occupation, Mr. Hatch?" inquired Mr. Randolph. + +"I'm a reporter," was the reply. + +"A reporter?" Mr. Randolph seemed surprised. "Of course, when I saw you +in Mr. Herbert's rooms," he went on after a little pause, "I met you +only as his friend. You saw what happened there. Now, may I ask you what +you intend to publish about this affair?" + +Hatch considered the question a moment. There seemed to be no objection +to telling. + +"I can't publish anything until I know everything, or until the police +act," he confessed frankly. "I had been talking to Dick Herbert in a +general way about this case when you arrived yesterday. I knew several +things, or thought I did, that the police do not even suspect. But, of +course, I can print only just what the police know and say." + +"I'm glad of that--very glad of it," said Mr. Randolph. "It seems to +have been a freak of some sort on Mr. Herbert's part, and, candidly, I +can't understand it. Of course he returned the plate, as I knew he +would." + +"Do you really believe he is the man who came here as the Burglar?" +asked Hatch curiously. + +"I should not have done what you saw me do if I had not been absolutely +certain," Mr. Randolph explained. "One of the things, particularly, that +was called to my attention--I don't know that you know of it--is the +fact that the Burglar had a cleft in his chin. You know, of course, that +Mr. Herbert has such a cleft. Then there is the invitation-card with his +name. Everything together makes it conclusive." + +Mr. Randolph and the reporter shook hands. Three hours later the press +and police had uncovered the Watertown end of the mystery as to how the +express package had been sent. It was explained by the driver of an +express waggon there and absorbed by greedily listening ears. + +"The boss told me to call at No. 410 State Street and get a bundle," the +driver explained. "I think somebody telephoned to him to send the +waggon. I went up there yesterday morning. It's a small house, back a +couple of hundred feet from the street, and has a stone fence around it. +I opened the gate, went in, and rang the bell. + +"No one answered the first ring, and I rang again. Still nobody answered +and I tried the door. It was locked. I walked around the house, thinking +there might be somebody in the back, but it was all locked up. I figured +as how the folks that had telephoned for me wasn't in, and started out +to my waggon, intending to stop by later. + +"Just as I got to the gate, going out, I saw a package set down inside, +hidden from the street behind the stone fence, with a dollar bill on it. +I just naturally looked at it. It was the package directed to Mr. +Randolph. I reasoned as how the folks who 'phoned had to go out and left +the package, so I took it along. I made out a receipt to John Smith, the +name that was in the corner, and pinned it to a post, took the package +and the money and went along. That's all." + +"You don't know if the package was there when you went in?" he was +asked. + +"I dunno. I didn't look. I couldn't help but see it when I came out, so +I took it." + +Then the investigators sought out "the boss." + +"Did the person who 'phoned give you a name?" inquired Detective +Mallory. + +"No, I didn't ask for one." + +"Was it a man or a woman talking?" + +"A man," was the unhesitating reply. "He had a deep, heavy voice." + +The investigators trailed away, dismally despondent, toward No. 410 +State Street. It was unoccupied; inquiry showed that it had been +unoccupied for months. The Supreme Intelligence picked the lock and the +investigators walked in, craning their necks. They expected, at the +least, to find a thieves' rendezvous. There was nothing but dirt, and +dust, and grime. Then the investigators returned to the city. They had +found only that the gold plate had been returned, and they knew that +when they started. + +Hatch went home and sat down with his head in his hands to add up all he +didn't know about the affair. It was surprising how much there was of +it. + +"Dick Herbert either did or didn't go to the ball," he soliloquised. +"_Something_ happened to him that evening. He either did or didn't steal +the gold plate, and every circumstance indicates that he did--which, of +course, he didn't. Dorothy Meredith either was or was not at the ball. +The maid's statement shows that she was, yet no one there recognised +her--which indicates that she wasn't. She either did or didn't run away +with somebody in an automobile. Anyhow, something happened to _her_, +because she's missing. The gold plate is stolen, and the gold plate is +back. I know _that_, thank Heaven! And now, knowing more about this +affair than any other single individual, I don't know _anything_." + + + + +PART II + +THE GIRL AND THE PLATE + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Low-bent over the steering-wheel, the Burglar sent the automobile +scuttling breathlessly along the flat road away from Seven Oaks. At the +first shot he crouched down in the seat, dragging the Girl with him; at +the second, he winced a little and clenched his teeth tightly. The car's +headlights cut a dazzling pathway through the shadows, and trees flitted +by as a solid wall. The shouts of pursuers were left behind, and still +the Girl clung to his arm. + +"Don't do that," he commanded abruptly. "You'll make me smash into +something." + +"Why, Dick, they shot at us!" she protested indignantly. + +The Burglar glanced at her, and, when he turned his eyes to the smooth +road again, there was a flicker of a smile about the set lips. + +"Yes, I had some such impression myself," he acquiesced grimly. + +"Why, they might have killed us!" the Girl went on. + +"It is just barely possible that they had some such absurd idea when +they shot," replied the Burglar. "Guess you never got caught in a pickle +like this before?" + +"I certainly never did!" replied the Girl emphatically. + +The whir and grind of their car drowned other sounds--sounds from +behind--but from time to time the Burglar looked back, and from time to +time he let out a new notch in the speed-regulator. Already the pace was +terrific, and the Girl bounced up and down beside him at each trivial +irregularity in the road, while she clung frantically to the seat. + +"Is it necessary to go so awfully fast?" she gasped at last. + +The wind was beating on her face, her mask blew this way and that; the +beribboned sombrero clung frantically to a fast-failing strand of ruddy +hair. She clutched at the hat and saved it, but her hair tumbled down +about her shoulders, a mass of gold, and floated out behind. + +"Oh," she chattered, "I can't keep my hat on!" + +The Burglar took another quick look behind, then his foot went out +against the speed-regulator and the car fairly leaped with suddenly +increased impetus. The regulator was in the last notch now, and the car +was one that had raced at Ormonde Beach. + +"Oh, dear!" exclaimed the Girl again. "Can't you go a little slower?" + +"Look behind," directed the Burglar tersely. + +She glanced back and gave a little cry. Two giant eyes stared at her +from a few hundred yards away as another car swooped along in pursuit, +and behind this ominously glittering pair was still another. + +"They're chasing us, aren't they?" + +"They are," replied the Burglar grimly, "but if these tires hold, they +haven't got a chance. A breakdown would----" He didn't finish the +sentence. There was a sinister note in his voice, but the Girl was still +looking back and did not heed it. To her excited imagination it seemed +that the giant eyes behind were creeping up, and again she clutched the +Burglar's arm. + +"Don't do that, I say," he commanded again. + +"But, Dick, they mustn't catch us--they mustn't!" + +"They won't." + +"But if they should----" + +"They won't," he repeated. + +"It would be perfectly awful!" + +"Worse than that." + +For a time the Girl silently watched him bending over the wheel, and a +singular feeling of security came to her. Then the car swept around a +bend in the road, careening perilously, and the glaring eyes were lost. +She breathed more freely. + +"I never knew you handled an auto so well," she said admiringly. + +"I do lots of things people don't know I do," he replied. "Are those +lights still there?" + +"No, thank goodness!" + +The Burglar touched a lever with his left hand and the whir of the +machine became less pronounced. After a moment it began to slow down. +The Girl noticed it and looked at him with new apprehension. + +"Oh, we're stopping!" she exclaimed. + +"I know it." + +They ran on for a few hundred feet; then the Burglar set the brake and, +after a deal of jolting, the car stopped. He leaped out and ran around +behind. As the Girl watched him uneasily there came a sudden crash and +the auto trembled a little. + +"What is it?" she asked quickly. + +"I smashed that tail lamp," he answered. "They can see it, and it's too +easy for them to follow." + +He stamped on the shattered fragments in the road, then came around to +the side to climb in again, extending his left hand to the Girl. + +"Quick, give me your hand," he requested. + +She did so wonderingly and he pulled himself into the seat beside her +with a perceptible effort. The car shivered, then started on again, +slowly at first, but gathering speed each moment. The Girl was staring +at her companion curiously, anxiously. + +"Are you hurt?" she asked at last. + +He did not answer at the moment, not until the car had regained its +former speed and was hurtling headlong through the night. + +"My right arm's out of business," he explained briefly, then: "I got +that second bullet in the shoulder." + +"Oh, Dick, Dick," she exclaimed, "and you hadn't said anything about it! +You need assistance!" + +A sudden rush of sympathy caused her to lay her hands again on his left +arm. He shook them off roughly with something like anger in his manner. + +"Don't do that!" he commanded for the third time. "You'll make me smash +hell out of this car." + +Startled by the violence of his tone, she recoiled dumbly, and the car +swept on. As before, the Burglar looked back from time to time, but the +lights did not reappear. For a long time the Girl was silent and finally +he glanced at her. + +"I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I didn't mean to speak so sharply, +but--but it's true." + +"It's really of no consequence," she replied coldly. "I am sorry--very +sorry." + +"Thank you," he replied. + +"Perhaps it might be as well for you to stop the car and let me out," +she went on after a moment. + +The Burglar either didn't hear or wouldn't heed. The dim lights of a +small village rose up before them, then faded away again; a dog barked +lonesomely beside the road. The streaming lights of their car revealed a +tangle of crossroads just ahead, offering a definite method of shaking +off pursuit. Their car swerved widely, and the Burglar's attention was +centred on the road ahead. + +"Does your arm pain you?" asked the Girl at last timidly. + +"No," he replied shortly. "It's a sort of numbness. I'm afraid I'm +losing blood, though." + +"Hadn't we better go back to the village and see a doctor?" + +"Not _this_ evening," he responded promptly in a tone which she did not +understand. "I'll stop somewhere soon and bind it up." + +At last, when the village was well behind, the car came to a dark little +road which wandered off aimlessly through a wood, and the Burglar slowed +down to turn into it. Once in the shelter of the overhanging branches +they proceeded slowly for a hundred yards or more, finally coming to a +standstill. + +"We must do it here," he declared. + +He leaped from the car, stumbled and fell. In an instant the Girl was +beside him. The reflected light from the auto showed her dimly that he +was trying to rise, showed her the pallor of his face where the chin +below the mask was visible. + +"I'm afraid it's pretty bad," he said weakly. Then he fainted. + +The Girl, stooping, raised his head to her lap and pressed her lips to +his feverishly, time after time. + +"Dick, Dick!" she sobbed, and tears fell upon the Burglar's sinister +mask. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +When the Burglar awoke to consciousness he was as near heaven as any +mere man ever dares expect to be. He was comfortable--quite +comfortable--wrapped in a delicious, languorous lassitude which forbade +him opening his eyes to realisation. A woman's hand lay on his forehead, +caressingly, and dimly he knew that another hand cuddled cosily in one +of his own. He lay still, trying to remember, before he opened his eyes. +Someone beside him breathed softly, and he listened, as if to music. + +Gradually the need of action--just what action and to what purpose did +not occur to him--impressed itself on his mind. He raised the disengaged +hand to his face and touched the mask, which had been pushed back on his +forehead. Then he recalled the ball, the shot, the chase, the hiding in +the woods. He opened his eyes with a start. Utter darkness lay about +him--for a moment he was not certain whether it was the darkness of +blindness or of night. + +"Dick, are you awake?" asked the Girl softly. + +He knew the voice and was content. + +"Yes," he answered languidly. + +He closed his eyes again and some strange, subtle perfume seemed to +envelop him. He waited. Warm lips were pressed to his own, thrilling him +strangely, and the Girl rested a soft cheek against his. + +"We have been very foolish, Dick," she said, sweetly chiding, after a +moment. "It was all my fault for letting you expose yourself to danger, +but I didn't dream of such a thing as this happening. I shall never +forgive myself, because----" + +"But----" he began protestingly. + +"Not another word about it now," she hurried on. "We must go very soon. +How do you feel?" + +"I'm all right, or will be in a minute," he responded, and he made as if +to rise. "Where is the car?" + +"Right here. I extinguished the lights and managed to stop the engine +for fear those horrid people who were after us might notice." + +"Good girl!" + +"When you jumped out and fainted I jumped out, too. I'm afraid I was not +very clever, but I managed to bind your arm. I took my handkerchief and +pressed it against the wound after ripping your coat, then I bound it +there. It stopped the flow of blood, but, Dick, dear, you must have +medical attention just as soon as possible." + +The Burglar moved his shoulder a little and winced. + +"Just as soon as I did that," the Girl went on, "I made you comfortable +here on a cushion from the car." + +"Good girl!" he said again. + +"Then I sat down to wait until you got better. I had no stimulant or +anything, and I didn't dare to leave you, so--so I just waited," she +ended with a weary little sigh. + +"How long was I knocked out?" he queried. + +"I don't know; half an hour, perhaps." + +"The bag is all right, I suppose?" + +"The bag?" + +"The bag with the stuff--the one I threw in the car when we started?" + +"Oh, yes, I suppose so! Really, I hadn't thought of it." + +"Hadn't thought of it?" repeated the Burglar, and there was a trace of +astonishment in his voice. "By George, you're a wonder!" he added. + +He started to get on his feet, then dropped back weakly. + +"Say, girlie," he requested, "see if you can find the bag in the car +there and hand it out. Let's take a look." + +"Where is it?" + +"Somewhere in front. I felt it at my feet when I jumped out." + +There was a rustle of skirts in the darkness, and after a moment a faint +muffled clank as of one heavy metal striking dully against another. + +"Goodness!" exclaimed the Girl. "It's heavy enough. What's in it?" + +"What's in it?" repeated the Burglar, and he chuckled. "A fortune, +nearly. It's worth being punctured for. Let me see." + +In the darkness he took the bag from her hands and fumbled with it a +moment. She heard the metallic sound again and then several heavy +objects were poured out on the ground. + +"A good fourteen pounds of pure gold," commented the Burglar. "By +George, I haven't but one match, but we'll see what it's like." + +The match was struck, sputtered for a moment, then flamed up, and the +Girl, standing, looked down upon the Burglar on his knees beside a heap +of gold plate. She stared at the glittering mass as if fascinated, and +her eyes opened wide. + +"Why, Dick, what is that?" she asked. + +"It's Randolph's plate," responded the Burglar complacently. "I don't +know how much it's worth, but it must be several thousands, on dead +weight." + +"What are you doing with it?" + +"What am I doing with it?" repeated the Burglar. He was about to look up +when the match burned his finger and he dropped it. "That's a silly +question." + +"But how came it in your possession?" the Girl insisted. + +"I acquired it by the simple act of--of dropping it into a bag and +bringing it along. That and you in the same evening----" He stretched +out a hand toward her, but she was not there. He chuckled a little as he +turned and picked up eleven plates, one by one, and replaced them in the +bag. + +"Nine--ten--eleven," he counted. "What luck did _you_ have?" + +"Dick Herbert, explain to me, please, what you are doing with that gold +plate?" There was an imperative command in the voice. + +The Burglar paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. + +"Oh, I'm taking it to have it fixed!" he responded lightly. + +"Fixed? Taking it this way at this time of the night?" + +[Illustration: "'It must be several thousands, on dead weight'"] + +"Sure," and he laughed pleasantly. + +"You mean you--you--you _stole_ it?" The words came with an effort. + +"Well, I'd hardly call it that," remarked the Burglar. "That's a harsh +word. Still, it's in my possession; it wasn't given to me, and I didn't +buy it. You may draw your own conclusions." + +The bag lay beside him and his left hand caressed it idly, lovingly. For +a long time there was silence. + +"What luck did _you_ have?" he asked again. + +There was a startled gasp, a gurgle and accusing indignation in the +Girl's low, tense voice. + +"You--you _stole_ it!" + +"Well, if you prefer it that way--yes." + +The Burglar was staring steadily into the darkness toward that point +whence came the voice, but the night was so dense that not a trace of +the Girl was visible. He laughed again. + +"It seems to me it was lucky I decided to take it at just this time and +in these circumstances," he went on tauntingly--"lucky for you, I mean. +If I hadn't been there you would have been caught." + +Again came the startled gasp. + +"What's the matter?" demanded the Burglar sharply, after another +silence. "Why don't you say something?" + +He was still peering unseeingly into the darkness. The bag of gold plate +moved slightly under his hand. He opened his fingers to close them more +tightly. It was a mistake. The bag was drawn away; his hand +grasped--air. + +"Stop that game now!" he commanded angrily. "Where are you?" + +He struggled to his feet. His answer was the crackling of a twig to his +right. He started in that direction and brought up with a bump against +the automobile. He turned, still groping blindly, and embraced a tree +with undignified fervour. To his left he heard another slight noise and +ran that way. Again he struck an obstacle. Then he began to say things, +expressive things, burning things from the depths of an impassioned +soul. The treasure had gone--disappeared into the shadows. The Girl was +gone. He called, there was no answer. He drew his revolver fiercely, +then reconsidered and flung it down angrily. + +"And I thought _I_ had nerve!" he declared. It was a compliment. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Extravagantly brilliant the sun popped up out of the east--not an +unusual occurrence--and stared unblinkingly down upon a country road. +There were the usual twittering birds and dew-spangled trees and nodding +wild-flowers; also a dust that was shoe-top deep. The dawny air stirred +lazily and rustling leaves sent long, sinuous shadows scampering back +and forth. + +Looking upon it all without enthusiasm or poetic exaltation was a +Girl--a pretty Girl--a very pretty Girl. She sat on a stone beside the +yellow roadway, a picture of weariness. A rough burlap sack, laden +heavily, yet economically as to space, wallowed in the dust beside her. +Her hair was tawny gold, and rebellious strands drooped listlessly about +her face. A beribboned sombrero lay in her lap, supplementing a certain +air of dilapidated bravado, due in part to a short skirt, heavy gloves +and boots, a belt with a knife and revolver. + +A robin, perched impertinently on a stump across the road, examined her +at his leisure. She stared back at Signor Redbreast, and for this +recognition he warbled a little song. + +"I've a good mind to cry!" exclaimed the Girl suddenly. + +Shamed and startled, the robin flew away. A mistiness came into the +Girl's blue eyes and lingered there a moment, then her white teeth +closed tightly and the glimmer of outraged emotion passed. + +"Oh," she sighed again, "I'm so tired and hungry and I just know I'll +never get anywhere at all!" + +But despite the expressed conviction she arose and straightened up as if +to resume her journey, turning to stare down at the bag. It was an +unsightly symbol of blasted hopes, man's perfidy, crushed aspirations +and--Heaven only knows what besides. + +"I've a good mind to leave you right there," she remarked to the bag +spitefully. "Perhaps I might hide it." She considered the question. "No, +that wouldn't do. I must take it with me--and--and--Oh, Dick! Dick! +What in the world was the matter with you, anyway?" + +Then she sat down again and wept. The robin crept back to look and +modestly hid behind a leaf. From this coign of vantage he watched her as +she again arose and plodded off through the dust with the bag swinging +over one shoulder. At last--there is an at last to everything--a small +house appeared from behind a clump of trees. The Girl looked with +incredulous eyes. It was really a house. Really! A tiny curl of smoke +hovered over the chimney. + +"Well, thank goodness, I'm somewhere, anyhow," she declared with her +first show of enthusiasm. "I can get a cup of coffee or something." + +She covered the next fifty yards with a new spring in her leaden heels +and with a new and firmer grip on the precious bag. Then--she stopped. + +"Gracious!" and perplexed lines suddenly wrinkled her brow. "If I should +go in there with a pistol and a knife they'd think I was a +brigand--or--or a thief, and I suppose I am," she added as she stopped +and rested the bag on the ground. "At least I have stolen goods in my +possession. Now, what shall I say if they ask questions? What am I? +They wouldn't believe me if I told them really. Short skirt, boots and +gloves: I know! I'm a bicyclist. My wheel broke down, and----" + +Whereupon she gingerly removed the revolver from her belt and flung it +into the underbrush--not at all in the direction she had intended--and +the knife followed to keep it company. Having relieved herself of these +sinister things, she straightened her hat, pushed back the rebellious +hair, yanked at her skirt, and walked bravely up to the little house. + +An Angel lived there--an Angel in a dizzily beflowered wrapper and a +crabbed exterior. She listened to a rapidly constructed and wholly +inconsistent story of a bicycle accident, which ended with a plea for a +cup of coffee. Silently she proceeded to prepare it. After the pot was +bubbling cheerfully and eggs had been put on and biscuits thrust into a +stove to be warmed over, the Angel sat down at the table opposite the +Girl. + +"Book agent?" she asked. + +"Oh, no!" replied the Girl. + +"Sewing-machines?" + +"No." + +There was a pause as the Angel settled and poured a cup of coffee. + +"Make to order, I s'pose?" + +"No," the Girl replied uncertainly. + +"What _do_ you sell?" + +"Nothing, I--I----" She stopped. + +"What you got in the bag?" the Angel persisted. + +"Some--some--just some--stuff," stammered the Girl, and her face +suddenly flushed crimson. + +"What kind of stuff?" + +The Girl looked into the frankly inquisitive eyes and was overwhelmed by +a sense of her own helplessness. Tears started, and one pearly drop ran +down her perfect nose and splashed in the coffee. That was the last +straw. She leaned forward suddenly with her head on her arms and wept. + +"Please, please don't ask questions!" she pleaded. "I'm a poor, foolish, +helpless, misguided, disillusioned woman!" + +"Yes'm," said the Angel. She took up the eggs, then came over and put a +kindly arm about the Girl's shoulders. "There, there!" she said +soothingly. "Don't take on like that! Drink some coffee, and eat a bite, +and you'll feel better!" + +"I have had no sleep at all and no food since yesterday, and I've walked +miles and miles and miles," the Girl rushed on feverishly. "It's all +because--because----" She stopped suddenly. + +"Eat something," commanded the Angel. + +The Girl obeyed. The coffee was weak and muddy and delightful; the +biscuits were yellow and lumpy and delicious; the eggs were eggs. The +Angel sat opposite and watched the Girl as she ate. + +"Husband beat you?" she demanded suddenly. + +The Girl blushed and choked. + +"No," she hastened to say. "I have no husband." + +"Well, there ain't no serious trouble in this world till you marry a +man that beats you," said the Angel judicially. It was the final word. + +The Girl didn't answer, and, in view of the fact that she had sufficient +data at hand to argue the point, this repression required heroism. +Perhaps she will never get credit for it. She finished the breakfast in +silence and leaned back with some measure of returning content in her +soul. + +"In a hurry?" asked the Angel. + +"No, I have no place to go. What is the nearest village or town?" + +"Watertown, but you'd better stay and rest a while. You look all +tuckered out." + +"Oh, thank you so much," said the Girl gratefully. "But it would be so +much trouble for----" + +The Angel picked up the burlap bag, shook it inquiringly, then started +toward the short stairs leading up. + +"Please, please!" exclaimed the Girl suddenly. "I--I--let me have that, +please!" + +The Angel relinquished the bag without a word. The Girl took it, +tremblingly, then, suddenly dropping it, clasped the Angel in her arms +and placed upon her unresponsive lips a kiss for which a mere man would +have endangered his immortal soul. The Angel wiped her mouth with the +back of her hand and went on up the stairs with the Girl following. + +For a time the Girl lay, with wet eyes, on a clean little bed, thinking. +Humiliation, exhaustion, man's perfidy, disillusionment, and the +kindness of an utter stranger all occupied her until she fell asleep. +Then she was chased by a policeman with automobile lights for eyes, and +there was a parade of hard-boiled eggs and yellow, lumpy biscuits. + +When she awoke the room was quite dark. She sat up a little bewildered +at first; then she remembered. After a moment she heard the voice of the +Angel, below. It rippled on querulously; then she heard the gruff voice +of a man. + +"Diamond rings?" + +The Girl sat up in bed and listened intently. Involuntarily her hands +were clasped together. Her rings were still safe. The Angel's voice went +on for a moment again. + +"Something in a bag?" inquired the man. + +Again the Angel spoke. + +Terror seized upon the Girl; imagination ran riot, and she rose from the +bed, trembling. She groped about the dark room noiselessly. Every shadow +lent her new fears. Then from below came the sound of heavy footsteps. +She listened fearfully. They came on toward the stairs, then paused. A +match was struck and the step sounded on the stairs. + +After a moment there was a knock at the door, a pause, then another +knock. Finally the door was pushed open and a huge figure--the figure of +a man--appeared, sheltering a candle with one hand. He peered about the +room as if perplexed. + +"Ain't nobody up here," he called gruffly down the stairs. + +[Illustration] + +There was a sound of hurrying feet and the Angel entered, her face +distorted by the flickering candlelight. + +"For the land's sakes!" she exclaimed. + +"Went away without even saying thank you," grumbled the man. He crossed +the room and closed a window. "You ain't got no better sense than a +chicken," he told the Angel. "Take in anybody that comes." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +If Willie's little brother hadn't had a pain in his tummy this story +might have gone by other and devious ways to a different conclusion. But +fortunately he did have, so it happened that at precisely 8.47 o'clock +of a warm evening Willie was racing madly along a side street of +Watertown, drug-store-bound, when he came face to face with a Girl--a +pretty Girl--a very pretty Girl. She was carrying a bag that clanked a +little at each step. + +"Oh, little boy!" she called. + +"Hunh?" and Willie stopped so suddenly that he endangered his +equilibrium, although that isn't how he would have said it. + +"Nice little boy," said the Girl soothingly, and she patted his tousled +head while he gnawed a thumb in pained embarrassment. "I'm very tired. I +have been walking a great distance. Could you tell me, please, where a +lady, unattended, might get a night's lodging somewhere near here?" + +"Hunh?" gurgled Willie through the thumb. + +Wearily the Girl repeated it all and at its end Willie giggled. It was +the most exasperating incident of a long series of exasperating +incidents, and the Girl's grip on the bag tightened a little. Willie +never knew how nearly he came to being hammered to death with fourteen +pounds of solid gold. + +"Well?" inquired the Girl at last. + +"Dunno," said Willie. "Jimmy's got the stomach-ache," he added +irrelevantly. + +"Can't you think of a hotel or boarding-house near by?" the Girl +insisted. + +"Dunno," replied Willie. "I'm going to the drug store for a pair o' +gorrick." + +The Girl bit her lip, and that act probably saved Willie from the dire +consequences of his unconscious levity, for after a moment the Girl +laughed aloud. + +"Where is the drug store?" she asked. + +"'Round the corner. I'm going." + +"I'll go along, too, if you don't mind," the Girl said, and she turned +and walked beside him. Perhaps the drug clerk would be able to +illuminate the situation. + +"I swallyed a penny oncst," Willie confided suddenly. + +"Too bad!" commented the Girl. + +"Unh unnh," Willie denied emphatically. "'Cause when I cried, Paw gimme +a quarter." He was silent a moment, then: "If I'd 'a' swallyed that, I +reckin he'd gimme a dollar. Gee!" + +This is the optimism that makes the world go round. The philosophy took +possession of the Girl and cheered her. When she entered the drug store +she walked with a lighter step and there was a trace of a smile about +her pretty mouth. A clerk, the only attendant, came forward. + +"I want a pair o' gorrick," Willie announced. + +The Girl smiled, and the clerk, paying no attention to the boy, went +toward her. + +"Better attend to him first," she suggested. "It seems urgent." + +The clerk turned to Willie. + +"Paregoric?" he inquired. "How much?" + +"About a quart, I reckin," replied the boy. "Is that enough?" + +"Quite enough," commented the clerk. He disappeared behind the +prescription screen and returned after a moment with a small phial. The +boy took it, handed over a coin, and went out, whistling. The Girl +looked after him with a little longing in her eyes. + +"Now, madam?" inquired the clerk suavely. + +"I only want some information," she replied. "I was out on my +bicycle"--she gulped a little--"when it broke down, and I'll have to +remain here in town over night, I'm afraid. Can you direct me to a quiet +hotel or boarding-house where I might stay?" + +"Certainly," replied the clerk briskly. "The Stratford, just a block up +this street. Explain the circumstances, and it will be all right, I'm +sure." + +The Girl smiled at him again and cheerfully went her way. That small boy +had been a leaven to her drooping spirits. She found the Stratford +without difficulty and told the usual bicycle lie, with a natural growth +of detail and a burning sense of shame. She registered as Elizabeth +Carlton and was shown to a modest little room. + +Her first act was to hide the gold plate in the closet; her second was +to take it out and hide it under the bed. Then she sat down on a couch +to think. For an hour or more she considered the situation in all its +hideous details, planning her desolate future--women like to plan +desolate futures--then her eye chanced to fall upon an afternoon paper, +which, with glaring headlines, announced the theft of the Randolph gold +plate. She read it. It told, with startling detail, things that had and +had not happened in connection therewith. + +This comprehended in all its horror, she promptly arose and hid the bag +between the mattress and the springs. Soon after she extinguished the +light and retired with little shivers running up and down all over her. +She snuggled her head down under the cover. She didn't sleep much--she +was still thinking--but when she arose next morning her mind was made +up. + +First she placed the eleven gold plates in a heavy card-board box, then +she bound it securely with brown paper and twine and addressed it: +"Stuyvesant Randolph, Seven Oaks, via Merton." She had sent express +packages before and knew how to proceed, therefore when the necessity of +writing a name in the upper left-hand corner appeared--the sender--she +wrote in a bold, desperate hand: "John Smith, Watertown." + +When this was all done to her satisfaction, she tucked the package under +one arm, tried to look as if it weren't heavy, and sauntered downstairs +with outward self-possession and inward apprehension. She faced the +clerk cordially, while a singularly distracting smile curled her lips. + +"My bill, please?" she asked. + +"Two dollars, madam," he responded gallantly. + +[Illustration] + +"I don't happen to have any money with me," she explained charmingly. +"Of course, I had expected to go back on my wheel, but, since it is +broken, perhaps you would be willing to take this until I return to the +city and can mail a check?" + +She drew a diamond ring from an aristocratic finger and offered it to +the clerk. He blushed furiously, and she reproved him for it with a cold +stare. + +"It's quite irregular," he explained, "but, of course, in the +circumstances, it will be all right. It is not necessary for us to keep +the ring at all, if you will give us your city address." + +"I prefer that you keep it," she insisted firmly, "for, besides, I shall +have to ask you to let me have fare back to the city--a couple of +dollars? Of course it will be all right?" + +It was half an hour before the clerk fully awoke. He had given the Girl +two real dollars and held her ring clasped firmly in one hand. She was +gone. She might just as well have taken the hotel along with her so far +as any objection from that clerk would have been concerned. + +Once out of the hotel the Girl hurried on. + +"Thank goodness, that's over," she exclaimed. + +For several blocks she walked on. Finally her eye was attracted by a "To +Let" sign on a small house--it was No. 410 State Street. She walked in +through a gate cut in the solid wall of stone and strolled up to the +house. Here she wandered about for a time, incidentally tearing off the +"To Let" sign. Then she came down the path toward the street again. Just +inside the stone fence she left her express package, after scribbling +the name of the street on it with a pencil. A dollar bill lay on top. +She hurried out and along a block or more to a small grocery. + +"Will you please 'phone to the express company and have them send a +wagon to No. 410 State Street for a package?" she asked sweetly of a +heavy-voiced grocer. + +"Certainly, ma'am," he responded with alacrity. + +She paused until he had done as she requested, then dropped into a +restaurant for a cup of coffee. She lingered there for a long time, and +then went out to spend a greater part of the day wandering up and down +State Street. At last an express wagon drove up, the driver went in and +returned after a little while with the package. + +[Illustration] + +"And, thank goodness, that's off my hands!" sighed the Girl. "Now I'm +going home." + + * * * * * + +Late that evening, Saturday, Miss Dollie Meredith returned to the home +of the Greytons and was clasped to the motherly bosom of Mrs. Greyton, +where she wept unreservedly. + +[Illustration: "A dollar bill lay on top"] + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was late Sunday afternoon. Hutchinson Hatch did not run lightly up +the steps of the Greyton home and toss his cigar away as he rang the +bell. He did go up the steps, but it was reluctantly, dragging one foot +after the other, this being an indication rather of his mental condition +than of physical weariness. He did not throw away his cigar as he rang +the bell because he wasn't smoking--but he did ring the bell. The maid +whom he had seen on his previous visit opened the door. + +"Is Mrs. Greyton in?" he asked with a nod of recognition. + +"No, sir." + +"Mr. Greyton?" + +"No, sir." + +"Did Mr. Meredith arrive from Baltimore?" + +"Yes, sir. Last midnight." + +"Ah! Is _he_ in?" + +"No, sir." + +The reporter's disappointment showed clearly in his face. + +"I don't suppose you've heard anything further from Miss Meredith?" he +ventured hopelessly. + +"She's upstairs, sir." + +Anyone who has ever stepped on a tack knows just how Hatch felt. He +didn't stand on the order of being invited in--he went in. Being in, he +extracted a plain calling-card from his pocketbook with twitching +fingers and handed it to the waiting maid. + +"When did she return?" he asked. + +"Last night, about nine, sir." + +"Where has she been?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"Kindly hand her my card and explain to her that it is imperative that I +see her for a few minutes," the reporter went on. "Impress upon her the +absolute necessity of this. By the way, I suppose you know where I came +from, eh?" + +"Police headquarters, yes, sir." + +Hatch tried to look like a detective, but a gleam of intelligence in his +face almost betrayed him. + +"You might intimate as much to Miss Meredith," he instructed the maid +calmly. + +The maid disappeared. Hatch went in and sat down in the reception-room, +and said "Whew!" several times. + +"The gold plate returned to Randolph last night by express," he mused, +"and she returned also, last night. Now what does that mean?" + +After a minute or so the maid reappeared to state that Miss Meredith +would see him. Hatch received the message gravely and beckoned +mysteriously as he sought for a bill in his pocketbook. + +"Do you have any idea where Miss Meredith was?" + +"No, sir. She didn't even tell Mrs. Greyton or her father." + +"What was her appearance?" + +"She seemed very tired, sir, and hungry. She still wore the masked ball +costume." + +The bill changed hands and Hatch was left alone again. There was a long +wait, then a rustle of skirts, a light step, and Miss Dollie Meredith +entered. + +She was nervous, it is true, and pallid, but there was a suggestion of +defiance as well as determination on her pretty mouth. Hatch stared at +her in frank admiration for a moment, then, with an effort, proceeded to +business. + +"I presume, Miss Meredith," he said solemnly, "that the maid informed +you of my identity?" + +"Yes," replied Dollie weakly. "She said you were a detective." + +"Ah!" exclaimed the reporter meaningly, "then we understand each other. +Now, Miss Meredith, will you tell me, please, just where you have been?" + +"No." + +The answer was so prompt and so emphatic that Hatch was a little +disconcerted. He cleared his throat and started over again. + +"Will you inform me, then, in the interest of justice, where you were on +the evening of the Randolph ball?" An ominous threat lay behind the +words, Hatch hoped she believed. + +"I will not." + +"Why did you disappear?" + +"I will not tell you." + +[Illustration: "There was a suggestion of defiance as well as +determination on her pretty mouth"] + +Hatch paused to readjust himself. He was going at things backward. When +next he spoke his tone had lost the official tang--he talked like a +human being. + +"May I ask if you happen to know Richard Herbert?" + +The pallor of the girl's face was relieved by a delicious sweep of +colour. + +"I will not tell you," she answered. + +"And if I say that Mr. Herbert happens to be a friend of mine?" + +"Well, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" + +Two distracting blue eyes were staring him out of countenance; two +scarlet lips were drawn tightly together in reproof of a man who boasted +such a friendship; two cheeks flamed with indignation that he should +have mentioned the name. Hatch floundered for a moment, then cleared his +throat and took a fresh start. + +"Will you deny that you saw Richard Herbert on the evening of the masked +ball?" + +"I will not." + +"Will you admit that you saw him?" + +"I will not." + +"Do you know that he was wounded?" + +"Certainly." + +Now, Hatch had always held a vague theory that the easiest way to make a +secret known was to intrust it to a woman. At this point he revised his +draw, threw his hand in the pack, and asked for a new deal. + +"Miss Meredith," he said soothingly after a pause, "will you admit or +deny that you ever heard of the Randolph robbery?" + +"I will not," she began, then: "Certainly I know of it." + +"You know that a man and a woman are accused of and sought for the +theft?" + +"Yes, I know that." + +"You will admit that you know the man was in Burglar's garb, and that +the woman was dressed in a Western costume?" + +"The newspapers say that, yes," she replied sweetly. + +"You know, too, that Richard Herbert went to that ball in Burglar's garb +and that you went there dressed as a Western girl?" The reporter's tone +was strictly professional now. + +Dollie stared into the stern face of her interrogator and her courage +oozed away. The colour left her face and she wept violently. + +"I beg your pardon," Hatch expostulated. "I beg your pardon. I didn't +mean it just that way, but----" + +He stopped helplessly and stared at this wonderful woman with the red +hair. Of all things in the world tears were quite the most +disconcerting. + +[Illustration] + +"I beg your pardon," he repeated awkwardly. + +Dollie looked up with tear-stained, pleading eyes, then arose and placed +both her hands on Hatch's arm. It was a pitiful, helpless sort of a +gesture; Hatch shuddered with sheer delight. + +"I don't know how you found out about it," she said tremulously, "but, +if you've come to arrest me, I'm ready to go with you." + +"Arrest you?" gasped the reporter. + +"Certainly. I'll go and be locked up. That's what they do, isn't it?" +she questioned innocently. + +The reporter stared. + +"I wouldn't arrest you for a million dollars!" he stammered in dire +confusion. "It wasn't quite that. It was----" + +And five minutes later Hutchinson Hatch found himself wandering +aimlessly up and down the sidewalk. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Dick Herbert lay stretched lazily on a couch in his room with hands +pressed to his eyes. He had just read the Sunday newspapers announcing +the mysterious return of the Randolph plate, and naturally he had a +headache. Somewhere in a remote recess of his brain mental pyrotechnics +were at play; a sort of intellectual pinwheel spouted senseless ideas +and suggestions of senseless ideas. The late afternoon shaded off into +twilight, twilight into dusk, dusk into darkness, and still he lay +motionless. + +After a while, from below, he heard the tinkle of a bell and Blair +entered with light tread: + +"Beg pardon, sir, are you asleep?" + +"Who is it, Blair?" + +"Mr. Hatch, sir." + +"Let him come up." + +Dick arose, snapped on the electric lights, and stood blinkingly in the +sudden glare. When Hatch entered they faced each other silently for a +moment. There was that in the reporter's eyes that interested Dick +immeasurably; there was that in Dick's eyes that Hatch was trying vainly +to fathom. Dick relieved a certain vague tension by extending his left +hand. Hatch shook it cordially. + +"Well?" Dick inquired. + +Hatch dropped into a chair and twirled his hat. + +"Heard the news?" he asked. + +"The return of the gold plate, yes," and Dick passed a hand across his +fevered brow. "It makes me dizzy." + +"Heard anything from Miss Meredith?" + +"No. Why?" + +"She returned to the Greytons last night." + +"Returned to the----" and Dick started up suddenly. "Well, there's no +reason why she shouldn't have," he added. "Do you happen to know where +she was?" + +The reporter shook his head. + +"I don't know anything," he said wearily, "except----" he paused. + +Dick paced back and forth across the room several times with one hand +pressed to his forehead. Suddenly he turned on his visitor. + +"Except what?" he demanded. + +"Except that Miss Meredith, by action and word, has convinced me that +she either had a hand in the disappearance of the Randolph plate or else +knows who was the cause of its disappearance." + +Dick glared at him savagely. + +"You know she didn't take the plate?" he demanded. + +"Certainly," replied the reporter. "That's what makes it all the more +astonishing. I talked to her this afternoon, and when I finished she +seemed to think I had come to arrest her, and she wanted to go to jail. +I nearly fainted." + +Dick glared incredulously, then resumed his nervous pacing. Suddenly he +stopped. + +"Did she mention my name?" + +"I mentioned it. She wouldn't admit even that she knew you." + +There was a pause. + +"I don't blame her," Dick remarked enigmatically. "She must think me a +cad." + +Another pause. + +"Well, what about it all, anyhow?" Dick went on finally. "The plate has +been returned, therefore the matter is at an end." + +"Now look here, Dick," said Hatch. "I want to say something, and don't +go crazy, please, until I finish. I know an awful lot about this +affair--things the police never will know. I haven't printed anything +much for obvious reasons." + +Dick looked at him apprehensively. + +"Go on," he urged. + +"I could print things I know," the reporter resumed; "swear out a +warrant for you in connection with the gold plate affair and have you +arrested and convicted on your own statements, supplemented by those of +Miss Meredith. Yet, remember, please, neither your name nor hers has +been mentioned as yet." + +Dick took it calmly; he only stared. + +"Do you believe that I stole the plate?" he asked. + +"Certainly I do not," replied Hatch, "but I can prove that you _did_; +prove it to the satisfaction of any jury in the world, and no denial of +yours would have any effect." + +"Well?" asked Dick, after a moment. + +"Further, I can, on information in my possession, swear out a warrant +for Miss Meredith, prove she was in the automobile, and convict her as +your accomplice. Now that's a silly state of affairs, isn't it?" + +"But, man, you can't believe that she had anything to do with it! +She's--she's not that kind." + +"I could take oath that she didn't have anything to do with it, but all +the same I can prove that she did," replied Hatch. "Now what I am +getting at is this: if the police should happen to find out what I know +they would send you up--both of you." + +"Well, you are decent about it, old man, and I appreciate it," said Dick +warmly. "But what can we do?" + +"It behoves us--Miss Meredith and you and myself--to get the true facts +in the case all together before you get pinched," said the reporter +judicially. "Suppose now, just suppose, that we three get together and +tell each other the truth for a change, the whole truth, and see what +will happen?" + +"If I should tell you the truth," said Dick dispassionately, "it would +bring everlasting disgrace on Miss Meredith, and I'd be a beast for +doing it; if she told you the truth she would unquestionably send me to +prison for theft." + +"But here----" Hatch expostulated. + +"Just a minute!" Dick disappeared into another room, leaving the +reporter to chew on what he had, then returned in a little while, +dressed for the street. "Now, Hatch," he said, "I'm going to try to get +to Miss Meredith, but I don't believe she'll see me. If she will, I may +be able to explain several things that will clear up this affair in +_your_ mind, at any rate. If I don't see her---- By the way, did her +father arrive from Baltimore?" + +"Yes." + +"Good!" exclaimed Dick. "I'll see him, too--make a show-down of it, and +when it's all over I'll let you know what happened." + +[Illustration] + +Hatch went back to his shop and threatened to kick the office-boy into +the waste-basket. + +At just about that moment Mr. Meredith, in the Greyton home, was reading +a card on which appeared the name, "Mr. Richard Hamilton Herbert." +Having read it, he snorted his indignation and went into the +reception-room. Dick arose to greet him and offered a hand, which was +promptly declined. + +"I'd like to ask you, Mr. Meredith," Dick began with a certain steely +coldness in his manner, "just why you object to my attention to your +daughter, Dorothy?" + +"You know well enough!" raged the old man. + +"It is because of the trouble I had in Harvard with your son, Harry. +Well and good, but is that all? Is that to stand forever?" + +"You proved then that you were not a gentleman," declared the old man +savagely. "You're a puppy, sir." + +[Illustration: "Mr. Meredith ... was reading a card on which appeared +the name 'Mr. Richard Hamilton Herbert'"] + +"If you didn't happen to be the father of the girl I'm in love with I'd +poke you in the nose," Dick replied, almost cheerfully. "Where is your +son now? Is there no way I can place myself right in your eyes?" + +"No!" Mr. Meredith thundered. "An apology would only be a confession of +your dishonour!" + +Dick was nearly choking, but managed to keep his voice down. + +"Does your daughter know anything of that affair?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Where is your son?" + +"None of your business, sir!" + +"I don't suppose there's any doubt in your mind of my affection for your +daughter?" + +"I suppose you do admire her," snapped the old man. "You can't help +that, I suppose. No one can," he added naively. + +"And I suppose you know that she loves me, in spite of your objections?" +went on the young man. + +"Bah! Bah!" + +"And that you are breaking her heart by your mutton-headed objection to +me?" + +"You--you----" sputtered Mr. Meredith. + +Dick was still calm. + +"May I see Miss Meredith for a few minutes?" he went on. + +"She won't see you, sir," stormed the irate parent. "She told me last +night that she would never consent to see you again." + +"Will you give me your permission to see her here and now, if she will +consent?" Dick insisted steadily. + +"She won't see you, I say." + +"May I send a card to her?" + +"She won't see you, sir," repeated Mr. Meredith doggedly. + +Dick stepped out into the hall and beckoned to the maid. + +"Please take my card to Miss Meredith," he directed. + +The maid accepted the white square, with a little uplifting of her +brows, and went up the stairs. Miss Meredith received it languidly, read +it, then sat up indignantly. + +"Dick Herbert!" she exclaimed incredulously. "How dare he come here? +It's the most audacious thing I ever heard of! Certainly I will not see +him again in any circumstances." She arose and glared defiantly at the +demure maid. "Tell Mr. Herbert," she said emphatically, "tell him--that +I'll be right down." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Mr. Meredith had stamped out of the room angrily, and Dick Herbert was +alone when Dollie, in regal indignation, swept in. The general slant of +her ruddy head radiated defiance, and a most depressing chilliness lay +in her blue eyes. Her lips formed a scarlet line, and there was a +how-dare-you-sir tilt to nose and chin. Dick started up quickly at her +appearance. + +"Dollie!" he exclaimed eagerly. + +"Mr. Herbert," she responded coldly. She sat down primly on the extreme +edge of a chair which yawned to embrace her. "What is it, please?" + +Dick was a singularly audacious sort of person, but her manner froze him +into sudden austerity. He regarded her steadily for a moment. + +"I have come to explain why----" + +Miss Dollie Meredith sniffed. + +"I have come to explain," he went on, "why I did not meet you at the +Randolph masked ball, as we had planned." + +"Why you did _not_ meet me?" inquired Dollie coldly, with a little +surprised movement of her arched brows. "Why you did _not_ meet me?" she +repeated. + +"I shall have to ask you to believe that, in the circumstances, it was +absolutely impossible," Dick continued, preferring not to notice the +singular emphasis of her words. "Something occurred early that evening +which--which left me no choice in the matter. I can readily understand +your indignation and humiliation at my failure to appear, and I had no +way of reaching you that evening or since. News of your return last +night only reached me an hour ago. I knew you had disappeared." + +Dollie's blue eyes were opened to the widest and her lips parted a +little in astonishment. For a moment she sat thus, staring at the young +man, then she sank back into her chair with a little gasp. + +"May I inquire," she asked, after she recovered her breath, "the cause +of this--this levity?" + +"Dollie, dear, I am perfectly serious," Dick assured her earnestly. "I +am trying to make it plain to you, that's all." + +"Why you did _not_ meet me?" Dollie repeated again. "Why you _did_ meet +me! And that's--that's what's the matter with everything!" + +Whatever surprise or other emotion Dick might have felt was admirably +repressed. + +"I thought perhaps there was some mistake somewhere," he said at last. +"Now, Dollie, listen to me. No, wait a minute please! I did not go to +the Randolph ball. You did. You eloped from that ball, as you and I had +planned, in an automobile, but not with me. You went with some other +man--the man who really stole the gold plate." + +Dollie opened her mouth to exclaim, then shut it suddenly. + +"Now just a moment, please," pleaded Dick. "You spoke to some other man +under the impression that you were speaking to me. For a reason which +does not appear now, he fell in with your plans. Therefore, you ran away +with him--in the automobile which carried the gold plate. What happened +after that I cannot even surmise. I only know that you are the +mysterious woman who disappeared with the Burglar." + +Dollie gasped and nearly choked with her emotions. A flame of scarlet +leaped into her face and the glare of the blue eyes was pitiless. + +"Mr. Herbert," she said deliberately at last, "I don't know whether you +think I am a fool or only a child. I know that no rational human being +can accept that as true. I know I left Seven Oaks with you in the auto; +I know you are the man who stole the gold plate; I know how you received +the shot in your right shoulder; I know how you afterward fainted from +loss of blood. I know how I bound up your wound and--and--I know a lot +of things else!" + +The sudden rush of words left her breathless for an instant. Dick +listened quietly. He started to say something--to expostulate--but she +got a fresh start and hurried on: + +"I recognised you in that silly disguise by the cleft in your chin. I +called you Dick and you answered me. I asked if you had received the +little casket and you answered yes. I left the ballroom as you directed +and climbed into the automobile. I know that horrid ride we had, and how +I took the gold plate in the bag and walked--walked through the night +until I was exhausted. I know it all--how I lied and connived, and told +silly stories--but I did it all to save you from yourself, and now you +dare face me with a denial!" + +Dollie suddenly burst into tears. Dick now attempted no further denial. +There was no anger in his face--only a deeply troubled expression. He +arose and walked over to the window, where he stood staring out. + +"I know it all," Dollie repeated gurglingly--"all, except what possible +idea you had in stealing the miserable, wretched old plate, anyway!" +There was a pause and Dollie peered through teary fingers. "How--how +long," she asked, "have you been a--a--a--kleptomaniac?" + +Dick shrugged his sturdy shoulders a little impatiently. + +"Did your father ever happen to tell you _why_ he objects to my +attentions to you?" he asked. + +"No, but I know now." And there was a new burst of tears. "It's +because--because you are a--a--you take things." + +"You will not believe what I tell you?" + +"How can I when I helped you run away with the horrid stuff?" + +"If I pledge you my word of honour that I told you the truth?" + +"I can't believe it, I can't!" wailed Dollie desolately. "No one could +believe it. I never suspected--never dreamed--of the possibility of such +a thing even when you lay wounded out there in the dark woods. If I had, +I should certainly have never--have never--kissed you." + +Dick wheeled suddenly. + +"Kissed me?" he exclaimed. + +"Yes, you horrid thing!" sobbed Dollie. "If there had previously been +the slightest doubt in my mind as to your identity, that would have +convinced me that it was you, because--because--just because! And +besides, if it wasn't you I kissed, you ought to have told me!" + +Dollie leaned forward suddenly on the arm of the chair with her face +hidden in her hands. Dick crossed the room softly toward her and laid a +hand caressingly about her shoulders. She shook it off angrily. + +"How dare you, sir?" she blazed. + +"Dollie, don't you love me?" he pleaded. + +"No!" was the prompt reply. + +"But you did love me--once?" + +"Why--yes, but I--I----" + +"And couldn't you ever love me again?" + +"I--I don't ever want to again." + +"But couldn't you?" + +"If you had only told me the truth, instead of making such a silly +denial," she blubbered. "I don't know why you took the plate +unless--unless it is because you--you couldn't help it. But you didn't +tell me the truth." + +Dick stared down at the ruddy head moodily for a moment. Then his manner +changed and he dropped on his knees beside her. + +"Suppose," he whispered, "suppose I should confess that I did take it?" + +Dollie looked up suddenly with a new horror in her face. + +"Oh, you _did_ do it then?" she demanded. This was worse than ever! + +"Suppose I should confess that I did?" + +"Oh, Dick!" she sobbed. And her arms went suddenly around his neck. "You +are breaking my heart. Why? Why?" + +"Would you be satisfied?" he insisted. + +"What could have caused you to do such a thing?" + +The love-light glimmered again in her blue eyes; the red lips trembled. + +"Suppose it had been just a freak of mine, and I had intended to--to +return the stuff, as has been done?" he went on. + +Dollie stared deeply into the eyes upturned to hers. + +"Silly boy," she said. Then she kissed him. "But you must never, never +do it again." + +"I never will," he promised solemnly. + +Five minutes later Dick was leaving the house, when he met Mr. Meredith +in the hall. + +[Illustration: "'Silly boy,' she said"] + +"I'm going to marry your daughter," he said quite calmly. + +Mr. Meredith raved at him as he went down the steps. + +[Illustration] + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Alone in her room, with the key turned in the lock, Miss Dollie Meredith +had a perfectly delightful time. She wept and laughed and sobbed and +shuddered; she was pensive and doleful and happy and melancholy; she +dreamed dreams of the future, past and present; she sang foolish little +ecstatic songs--just a few words of each--and cried again copiously. Her +father had sent her to her room with a stern reprimand, and she giggled +joyously as she remembered it. + +"After all, it wasn't anything," she assured herself. "It was silly for +him to--to take the stuff, of course, but it's back now, and he told me +the truth, and he intended to return it, anyway." In her present mood +she would have justified anything. "And he's not a thief or anything. I +don't suppose father will ever give his consent, so, after all, we'll +have to elope, and that will be--perfectly delightful. Papa will go on +dreadfully and then he'll be all right." + +After a while Dollie snuggled down in the sheets and lay quite still in +the dark until sleep overtook her. Silence reigned in the house. It was +about two o'clock in the morning when she sat up suddenly in bed with +startled eyes. She had heard something--or rather in her sleep she had +received the impression of hearing something. She listened intently as +she peered about. + +Finally she _did_ hear something--something tap sharply on the window +once. Then came silence again. A frightened chill ran all the way down +to Dollie's curling pink toes. There was a pause, and then again came +the sharp click on the window, whereupon Dollie pattered out of bed in +her bare feet and ran to the window, which was open a few inches. + +With the greatest caution she peered out. Vaguely skulking in the +shadows below she made out the figure of a man. As she looked it seemed +to draw up into a knot, then straighten out quickly. Involuntarily she +dodged. There came another sharp click at the window. The man below was +tossing pebbles against the pane with the obvious purpose of attracting +her attention. + +"Dick, is that you?" she called cautiously. + +"Sh-h-h-h!" came the answer. "Here's a note for you. Open the window so +I may throw it in." + +"Is it really and truly you?" Dollie insisted. + +"Yes," came the hurried, whispered answer. "Quick, someone is coming!" + +Dollie threw the sash up and stepped back. A whirling, white object came +through and fell noiselessly on the carpet. Dollie seized upon it +eagerly and ran to the window again. Below she saw the retreating figure +of a man. Other footsteps materialised in a bulky policeman, who +strolled by seeking, perhaps, a quiet spot for a nap. + +[Illustration: "She opened the note eagerly and sat down upon the floor +to read it"] + +Shivering with excitement, Dollie closed the window and pulled down the +shade, after which she lighted the gas. She opened the note eagerly and +sat down upon the floor to read it. Now a large part of this note was +extraneous verbiage of a superlative emotional nature--its vital +importance was an outline of a new plan of elopement, to take place on +Wednesday in time for them to catch a European-bound steamer at +half-past two in the afternoon. + +Dollie read and reread the crumpled sheet many times, and when finally +its wording had been indelibly fixed in her mind she wasted an +unbelievable number of kisses on it. Of course this was sheer +extravagance, but--girls are wonderful creatures. + +"He's the dearest thing in the world!" she declared at last. + +She burned the note reluctantly and carefully disposed of the ashes by +throwing them out of the window, after which she returned to her bed. On +the following morning, Monday, father glared at daughter sternly as she +demurely entered the breakfast-room. He was seeking to read that which +no man has ever been able to read--a woman's face. Dollie smiled upon +him charmingly. + +After breakfast father and daughter had a little talk in a sunny corner +of the library. + +"I have planned for us to return to Baltimore on next Thursday," he +informed her. + +"Oh, isn't that delightful?" beamed Dollie. + +"In view of everything and your broken promise to me--the promise not to +see Herbert again--I think it wisest," he continued. + +"Perhaps it is," she mused. + +"Why did you see him?" he demanded. + +"I consented to see him only to bid him good-by," replied Dollie +demurely, "and to make perfectly clear to him my position in this +matter." + +Oh, woman! Perfidious, insincere, loyal, charming woman! All the tangled +skeins of life are the work of your dainty fingers. All the sins and +sorrows are your doing! + +Mr. Meredith rubbed his chin thoughtfully. + +"You may take it as my wish--my order even," he said as he cleared his +throat--for giving orders to Dollie was a dangerous experiment, "that +you must not attempt to communicate in any way with Mr. Herbert +again--by letter or otherwise." + +"Yes, papa." + +Mr. Meredith was somewhat surprised at the ease with which he got away +with this. Had he been blessed with a little more wisdom in the ways of +women he would have been suspicious. + +"You really do not love him, anyway," he ventured at last. "It was only +a girlish infatuation." + +"I told him yesterday just what I thought of him," she replied +truthfully enough. + +And thus the interview ended. + +It was about noon that day when Hutchinson Hatch called on Dick Herbert. + +"Well, what did you find out?" he inquired. + +"Really, old man," said Dick kindly, "I have decided that there is +nothing I can say to you about the matter. It's a private affair, after +all." + +"Yes, I know that and you know that, but the police don't know it," +commented the reporter grimly. + +"The police!" Dick smiled. + +"Did you see her?" Hatch asked. + +"Yes, I saw her--and her father, too." + +Hatch saw the one door by which he had hoped to solve the riddle closing +on him. + +"Was Miss Meredith the girl in the automobile?" he asked bluntly. + +"Really, I won't answer that." + +"Are you the man who stole the gold plate?" + +"I won't answer that, either," replied Dick smilingly. "Now, look here, +Hatch, you're a good fellow. I like you. It is your business to find out +things, but, in this particular affair, I'm going to make it my business +to keep you from finding out things. I'll risk the police end of it." He +went over and shook hands with the reporter cordially. "Believe me, if I +told you the absolute truth--all of it--you couldn't print it +unless--unless I was arrested, and I don't intend that that shall +happen." + +Hatch went away. + +That night the Randolph gold plate was stolen for the second time. +Thirty-six hours later Detective Mallory arrested Richard Herbert with +the stolen plate in his possession. Dick burst out laughing when the +detective walked in on him. + +[Illustration] + + + + +PART III + +THE THINKING MACHINE + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen, Ph. D., LL. D., F. R. S., M. D., +etc., etc., was the Court of Last Appeal in the sciences. He was five +feet two inches tall, weighed 107 pounds, that being slightly above +normal, and wore a number eight hat. Bushy, yellow hair straggled down +about his ears and partially framed a clean-shaven, wizened face in +which were combined the paradoxical qualities of extreme aggressiveness +and childish petulance. The mouth drooped a little at the corners, being +otherwise a straight line; the eyes were mere slits of blue, squinting +eternally through thick spectacles. His brow rose straight up, domelike, +majestic even, and added a whimsical grotesqueness to his appearance. + +The Professor's idea of light literature, for rare moments of +recreation, was page after page of encyclopaedic discussion on "ologies" +and "isms" with lots of figures in 'em. Sometimes he wrote these +discussions himself, and frequently held them up to annihilation. His +usual speaking tone was one of deep annoyance, and he had an unwavering +glare that went straight through one. He was the son of the son of the +son of an eminent German scientist, the logical production of a house +that had borne a distinguished name in the sciences for generations. + +Thirty-five of his fifty years had been devoted to logic, study, +analysis of cause and effect, mental, material, and psychological. By +his personal efforts he had mercilessly flattened out and readjusted at +least two of the exact sciences and had added immeasurably to the +world's sum of knowledge in others. Once he had held the chair of +philosophy in a great university, but casually one day he promulgated a +thesis that knocked the faculty's eye out, and he was invited to vacate. +It was a dozen years later that that university had openly resorted to +influence and diplomacy to induce him to accept its LL. D. + +For years foreign and American institutions, educational, scientific, +and otherwise, crowded degrees upon him. He didn't care. He started +fires with the elaborately formal notifications of these unsought +honours and turned again to his work in the small laboratory which was a +part of his modest home. There he lived, practically a recluse, his +simple wants being attended to by one aged servant, Martha. + +This, then, was The Thinking Machine. This last title, The Thinking +Machine, perhaps more expressive of the real man than a yard of honorary +initials, was coined by Hutchinson Hatch at the time of the scientist's +defeat of a chess champion after a single morning's instruction in the +game. The Thinking Machine had asserted that logic was inevitable, and +that game had proven his assertion. Afterward there had grown up a +strange sort of friendship between the crabbed scientist and the +reporter. Hatch, to the scientist, represented the great, whirling +outside world; to the reporter the scientist was merely a brain--a +marvellously keen, penetrating, infallible guide through material +muddles far removed from the delicately precise labours of the +laboratory. + +Now The Thinking Machine sat in a huge chair in his reception-room with +long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip and squint eyes turned upward. +Hatch was talking, had been talking for more than an hour with +infrequent interruptions. In that time he had laid bare the facts as he +and the police knew them from the incidents of the masked ball at Seven +Oaks to the return of Dollie Meredith. + +"Now, Mr. Hatch," asked The Thinking Machine, "just what is known of +this second theft of the gold plate?" + +"It's simple enough," explained the reporter. "It was plain burglary. +Some person entered the Randolph house on Monday night by cutting out a +pane of glass and unfastening a window-latch. Whoever it was took the +plate and escaped. That's all anyone knows of it." + +"Left no clew, of course?" + +"No, so far as has been found." + +"I presume that, on its return by express, Mr. Randolph ordered the +plate placed in the small room as before?" + +"Yes." + +"He's a fool." + +"Yes." + +"Please go on." + +"Now the police absolutely decline to say as yet just what evidence they +have against Herbert beyond the finding of the plate in his possession," +the reporter resumed, "though, of course, that's enough and to spare. +They will not say, either, how they first came to connect him with the +affair. Detective Mallory doesn't----" + +"When and where was Mr. Herbert arrested?" + +"Yesterday, Tuesday, afternoon in his rooms. Fourteen pieces of the gold +plate were on the table." + +The Thinking Machine dropped his eyes a moment to squint at the +reporter. + +"Only eleven pieces of the plate were first stolen, you said?" + +"Only eleven, yes." + +"And I think you said two shots were fired at the thief?" + +"Yes." + +"Who fired them, please?" + +"One of the detectives--Cunningham, I think." + +"It was a detective--you know that?" + +"Yes, I know that." + +"Yes, yes. Please go on." + +"The plate was all spread out--there was no attempt to conceal it," +Hatch resumed. "There was a box on the floor and Herbert was about to +pack the stuff in it when Detective Mallory and two of his men entered. +Herbert's servant, Blair, was away from the house at the time. His +people are up in Nova Scotia, so he was alone." + +"Nothing but the gold plate was found?" + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the reporter. "There was a lot of jewelry in a case +and fifteen or twenty odd pieces--fifty thousand dollars' worth of +stuff, at least. The police took it to find the owners." + +"Dear me! Dear me!" exclaimed The Thinking Machine. "Why didn't you +mention the jewelry at first? Wait a minute." + +Hatch was silent while the scientist continued to squint at the ceiling. +He wriggled in his chair uncomfortably and smoked a couple of cigarettes +before The Thinking Machine turned to him and nodded. + +"That's all I know," said Hatch. + +"Did Mr. Herbert say anything when arrested?" + +"No, he only laughed. I don't know why. I don't imagine it would have +been at all funny to me." + +"Has he said anything since?" + +"No, nothing to me or anybody else. He was arraigned at a preliminary +hearing, pleaded not guilty, and was released on twenty thousand dollars +bail. Some of his rich friends furnished it." + +"Did he give any reason for his refusal to say anything?" insisted The +Thinking Machine testily. + +"He remarked to me that he wouldn't say anything, because, even if he +told the truth, no one would believe him." + +"If it should have been a protestation of innocence I'm afraid nobody +_would_ have believed him," commented the scientist enigmatically. He +was silent for several minutes. "It could have been a brother, of +course," he mused. + +"A brother?" asked Hatch quickly. "Whose brother? What brother?" + +"As I understand it," the scientist went on, not heeding the question, +"you did not believe Herbert guilty of the first theft?" + +"Why, I couldn't," Hatch protested. "I couldn't," he repeated. + +"Why?" + +"Well, because--because he's not that sort of man," explained the +reporter. "I've known him for years, personally and by reputation." + +"Was he a particular friend of yours in college?" + +"No, not an intimate, but he was in my class--and he's a whacking, +jam-up, ace-high football player." That squared everything. + +"Do you now believe him guilty?" insisted the scientist. + +"I can't believe anything else--and yet I'd stake my life on his +honesty." + +"And Miss Meredith?" + +The reporter was reaching the explosive point. He had seen and talked to +Miss Meredith, you know. + +"It's perfectly asinine to suppose that _she_ had anything to do with +either theft, don't you think?" + +The Thinking Machine was silent on that point. + +[Illustration] + +"Well, Mr. Hatch," he said finally, "the problem comes down to this: Did +a man, and perhaps a woman, who are circumstantially proven guilty of +stealing the gold plate, _actually_ steal it? We have the stained +cushion of the automobile in which the thieves escaped to indicate that +one of them was wounded; we have Mr. Herbert with an injured right +shoulder--a hurt received that night on his own statement, though he +won't say how. We have, then, the second theft and the finding of the +stolen property in his possession along with another lot of stolen +stuff--jewels. It is apparently a settled case now without going +further." + +"But----" Hatch started to protest. + +"But suppose we do go a little further," The Thinking Machine went on. +"I can prove definitely, conclusively, and finally by settling only two +points whether or not Mr. Herbert was wounded while in the automobile. +If he was wounded while in that automobile, he was the first thief; if +not, he wasn't. If he was the first thief, he was probably the second, +but even if he were not the first thief, there is, of course, a +possibility that he was the second." + +Hatch was listening with mouth open. + +"Suppose we begin now," continued The Thinking Machine, "by finding out +the name of the physician who treated Mr. Herbert's wound last Thursday +night. Mr. Herbert may have a reason for keeping the identity of this +physician secret, but, perhaps--wait a minute," and the scientist +disappeared into the next room. He was gone for five minutes. "See if +the physician who treated the wound wasn't Dr. Clarence Walpole." + +The reporter blinked a little. + +"Right," he said. "What next?" + +"Ask him something about the nature of the wound and all the usual +questions." + +Hatch nodded. + +"Then," resumed The Thinking Machine casually, "bring me some of Mr. +Herbert's blood." + +The reporter blinked a good deal, and gulped twice. + +"How much?" he inquired briskly. + +"A single drop on a small piece of glass will do very nicely," replied +the scientist. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The Supreme Police Intelligence of the Metropolitan District was doing +some heavy thinking, which, modestly enough, bore generally on his own +dazzling perspicacity. Just at the moment he couldn't recall any +detector of crime whose lustre in any way dimmed his own, or whose mere +shadow, even, had a right to fall on the same earth as his; and this +lapse of memory so stimulated his admiration for the subject of his +thoughts that he lighted a fresh cigar and put his feet in the middle of +the desk. + +He sat thus when The Thinking Machine called. The Supreme +Intelligence--Mr. Mallory--knew Professor Van Dusen well, and, though he +received his visitor graciously, he showed no difficulty in restraining +any undue outburst of enthusiasm. Instead, the same admirable +self-control which prevented him from outwardly evidencing his pleasure +prompted him to square back in his chair with a touch of patronising +aggressiveness in his manner. + +"Ah, Professor," was his noncommittal greeting. + +"Good-evening, Mr. Mallory," responded the scientist in the thin, +irritated voice which always set Mr. Mallory's nerves a-jangle. "I don't +suppose you would tell me by what steps you were led to arrest Mr. +Herbert?" + +"I would not," declared Mr. Mallory promptly. + +"No, nor would you inform me of the nature of the evidence against him +in addition to the jewels and plate found in his possession?" + +"I would not," replied Mr. Mallory again. + +"No, I thought perhaps you would not," remarked The Thinking Machine. "I +understand, by the way, that one of your men took a leather cushion from +the automobile in which the thieves escaped on the night of the ball?" + +"Well, what of it?" demanded the detective. + +"I merely wanted to inquire if it would be permissible for me to see +that cushion?" + +Detective Mallory glared at him suspiciously, then slowly his heavy +face relaxed, and he laughed as he arose and produced the cushion. + +"If you're trying to make any mystery of this cushion, you're in bad," +he informed the scientist. "We know the owner of the automobile in which +Herbert and the Girl escaped. The cushion means nothing." + +The Thinking Machine examined the heavy leather carefully and paid a +great deal of attention to the crusted stains which it bore. He picked +at one of the brown spots with his penknife and it flaked off in his +hand. + +"Herbert was caught with the goods on," declared the detective, and he +thumped the desk with his lusty fist. "We've got the right man." + +"Yes," admitted The Thinking Machine, "it begins to look very much as if +you _did_ have the right man--for once." + +Detective Mallory snorted. + +"Would you mind telling me if any of the jewelry you found in Mr. +Herbert's possession has been identified?" + +"Sure thing," replied the detective. "That's where I've got Herbert +good. Four people who lost jewelry at the masked ball have appeared and +claimed pieces of the stuff." + +For an instant a slightly perplexed wrinkle appeared in the brow of The +Thinking Machine, and as quickly it passed. + +"Of course, of course," he mused. + +"It's the biggest haul of stolen goods the police of this city have made +for many years," the detective volunteered complacently. "And, if I'm +not wrong, there's more of it coming--no man knows how much more. Why, +Herbert must have been operating for years, and he got away with it, of +course, by the gentlemanly exterior, the polish, and all that. I +consider his capture the most important that has happened since I have +been connected with the police." + +"Indeed?" inquired the scientist thoughtfully. He was still gazing at +the cushion. + +"And the most important development of all is to come," Detective +Mallory rattled on. "That will be the real sensation, and make the +arrest of Herbert seem purely incidental. It now looks as if there +would be another arrest of a--of a person who is so high socially, and +all that----" + +"Yes," interrupted The Thinking Machine, "but do you think it would be +wise to arrest her now?" + +"Her?" demanded Detective Mallory. "What do you know of any woman?" + +"You were speaking of Miss Dorothy Meredith, weren't you?" inquired The +Thinking Machine blandly. "Well, I merely asked if you thought it would +be wise for your men to go so far as to arrest her." + +The detective bit his cigar in two in obvious perturbation. + +"How--how--did you happen to know her name?" he demanded. + +"Oh, Mr. Hatch mentioned it to me," replied the scientist. "He has known +of her connection with the case for several days, as well as Herbert's, +and has talked to them both, I think." + +The Supreme Intelligence was nearly apoplectic. + +"If Hatch knew it why didn't he tell me?" he thundered. + +"Really, I don't know," responded the scientist. "Perhaps," he added +curtly, "he may have had some absurd notion that you would find it out +for yourself. He has strange ideas like that sometimes." + +And when Detective Mallory had fully recovered The Thinking Machine was +gone. + +Meanwhile Hatch had seen and questioned Dr. Clarence Walpole in the +latter's office, only a stone's throw from Dick Herbert's home. Had +Doctor Walpole recently dressed a wound for Mr. Herbert? Doctor Walpole +had. A wound caused by a pistol-bullet? Yes. + +"When was it, please?" asked Hatch. + +"Only a few nights ago." + +"Thursday night, perhaps?" + +Doctor Walpole consulted a desk-diary. + +"Yes, Thursday night, or rather Friday morning," he replied. "It was +between two and three o'clock. He came here and I fixed him up." + +"Where was the wound, please?" + +"In the right shoulder," replied the physician, "just here," and he +touched the reporter with one finger. "It wasn't dangerous, but he had +lost considerable blood." + +Hatch was silent for a moment, dazed. Every new point piled up the +evidence against Herbert. The location of the wound--a pistol-wound--the +very hour of the dressing of it! Dick would have had plenty of time +between the moment of the robbery, which was comparatively early, and +the hour of his call on Doctor Walpole to do all those things which he +was suspected of doing. + +"I don't suppose Mr. Herbert explained how he got the wound?" Hatch +asked apprehensively. He was afraid he had. + +"No. I asked, but he evaded the question. It was, of course, none of my +business, after I had extracted the bullet and dressed the hurt." + +"You have the bullet?" + +"Yes. It's the usual size--thirty-two calibre." + +That was all. The prosecution was in, the case proven, the verdict +rendered. Ten minutes later Hatch's name was announced to Dick Herbert. +Dick received him gloomily, shook hands with him, then resumed his +interrupted pacing. + +"I had declined to see men from other papers," he said wearily. + +"Now, look here, Dick," expostulated Hatch, "don't you want to make some +statement of your connection with this affair? I honestly believe that +if you did it would help you." + +"No, I cannot make any statement--that's all." Dick's hand closed +fiercely. "I can't," he added, "and there's no need to talk of it." He +continued his pacing for a moment or so; then turned on the reporter. +"Do you believe me guilty?" he demanded abruptly. + +"I can't believe anything else," Hatch replied falteringly. "But at that +I don't _want_ to believe it." There was an embarrassed pause. "I have +just seen Dr. Clarence Walpole." + +"Well?" Dick wheeled on him angrily. + +"What he said alone would convict you, even if the stuff had not been +found here," Hatch replied. + +"Are you _trying_ to convict me?" Dick demanded. + +"I'm trying to get the truth," remarked Hatch. + +"There is just one man in the world whom I must see before the truth can +ever be told," declared Dick vehemently. "And I can't find him now. I +don't know where he is!" + +"Let me find him. Who is he? What's his name?" + +"If I told you that I might as well tell you everything," Dick went on. +"It was to prevent any mention of that name that I have allowed myself +to be placed in this position. It is purely a personal matter between +us--at least I will make it so--and if I ever meet him----" his hands +closed and unclosed spasmodically, "the truth will be known unless I--I +kill him first." + +More bewildered, more befuddled, and more generally betangled than ever, +Hatch put his hands to his head to keep it from flying off. Finally he +glanced around at Dick, who stood with clenched fists and closed teeth. +A blaze of madness lay in Dick's eyes. + +"Have you seen Miss Meredith again?" inquired the reporter. + +Dick burst out laughing. + +Half an hour later Hatch left him. On the glass top of an inkstand he +carried three precious drops of Herbert's blood. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Faithfully, phonographically even, Hatch repeated to The Thinking +Machine the conversation he had had with Doctor Walpole, indicating on +the person of the eminent scientist the exact spot of the wound as +Doctor Walpole had indicated it to him. The scientist listened without +comment to the recital, casually studying meanwhile the three crimson +drops on the glass. + +"Every step I take forward is a step backward," the reporter declared in +conclusion with a helpless grin. "Instead of showing that Dick Herbert +might not have stolen the plate I am proving conclusively that he was +the thief--nailing it to him so hard that he can't possibly get out of +it." He was silent a moment. "If I keep on long enough," he added +glumly, "I'll hang him." + +The Thinking Machine squinted at him aggressively. + +"You still don't believe him guilty?" he asked. + +"Why, I--I--I----" Hatch burst out savagely. "Damn it, I don't know +what I believe," he tapered off. "It's absolutely impossible!" + +"Nothing is impossible, Mr. Hatch," snapped The Thinking Machine +irritably. "The worst a problem can be is difficult, but all problems +can be solved as inevitably as that two and two make four--not +sometimes, but all the time. Please don't say things are impossible. It +annoys me exceedingly." + +Hatch stared at his distinguished friend and smiled whimsically. He was +also annoyed exceedingly on his own private, individual account--the +annoyance that comes from irresistibly butting into immovable facts. + +"Doctor Walpole's statement," The Thinking Machine went on after a +moment, "makes this particular problem ludicrously simple. Two points +alone show conclusively that Mr. Herbert was not the man in the +automobile. I shall reach the third myself." + +Hatch didn't say anything. The English language is singularly inadequate +at times, and if he had spoken he would have had to invent a phraseology +to convey even a faint glimmer of what he really thought. + +"Now, Mr. Hatch," resumed the scientist, quite casually, "I understand +you graduated from Harvard in ninety-eight. Yes? Well, Herbert was a +classmate of yours there. Please obtain for me one of the printed lists +of students who were in Harvard that year--a complete list." + +"I have one at home," said the reporter. + +"Get it, please, immediately, and return here," instructed the +scientist. + +Hatch went out and The Thinking Machine disappeared into his laboratory. +He remained there for one hour and forty-seven minutes by the clock. +When he came out he found the reporter sitting in the reception-room +again, holding his head. The scientist's face was as blankly inscrutable +as ever. + +"Here is the list," said Hatch as he handed it over. + +The Thinking Machine took it in his long, slender fingers and turned two +or three leaves. Finally he stopped and ran a finger down one page. + +"Ah," he exclaimed at last. "I thought so." + +"Thought what?" asked Hatch curiously. + +"I'm going out to see Mr. Meredith now," remarked The Thinking Machine +irrelevantly. "Come along. Have you met him?" + +"No." + +Mr. Meredith had read the newspaper accounts of the arrest of Dick +Herbert and the seizure of the gold plate and jewels; he had even +taunted his charming daughter with it in a fatherly sort of a way. She +was weeping, weeping her heart out over this latest proof of the perfidy +and loathsomeness of the man she loved. Incidentally, it may be +mentioned here that the astute Mr. Meredith was not aware of any +elopement plot--either the first or second. + +When a card bearing the name of Mr. Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen was +handed to Mr. Meredith he went wonderingly into the reception-room. +There was a pause as the scientist and Mr. Meredith mentally sized each +other up; then introductions--and The Thinking Machine came down to +business abruptly, as always. + +"May I ask, Mr. Meredith," he began, "how many sons you have?" + +"One," replied Mr. Meredith, puzzled. + +"May I ask his present address?" went on the scientist. + +Mr. Meredith studied the belligerent eyes of his caller and wondered +what business it was of his, for Mr. Meredith was a belligerent sort of +a person himself. + +"May I ask," he inquired with pronounced emphasis on the personal +pronoun, "why you want to know?" + +Hatch rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was wondering what would happen +to him when the cyclone struck. + +"It may save him and you a great deal of annoyance if you will give me +his address," said The Thinking Machine. "I desire to communicate with +him immediately on a matter of the utmost importance--a purely personal +matter." + +"Personal matter?" repeated Mr. Meredith. "Your abruptness and manner, +sir, were not calculated to invite confidence." + +The Thinking Machine bowed gravely. + +"May I ask your son's address?" he repeated. + +Mr. Meredith considered the matter at some length and finally arrived at +the conclusion that he might ask. + +"He is in South America at present--Buenos Ayres," he replied. + +"What?" exclaimed The Thinking Machine so suddenly that both Hatch and +Mr. Meredith started a little. "What?" he repeated, and wrinkles +suddenly appeared in the domelike brow. + +"I said he was in South America--Buenos Ayres," repeated Mr. Meredith +stiffly, but a little awed. "A letter or cable to him in care of the +American Consul at Buenos Ayres will reach him promptly." + +The Thinking Machine's narrow eyes were screwed down to the disappearing +point, the slender white fingers were twiddled jerkily, the corrugations +remained in his brow. + +"How long has Mr. Meredith been there?" he asked at last. + +"Three months." + +"Do you _know_ he _is_ there?" + +Mr. Meredith started to say something and swallowed it with an effort. + +"I know it positively, yes," he replied. "I received this letter dated +the second from him three days ago, and to-day I received a +cable-dispatch forwarded to me here from Baltimore." + +"Are you positive the letter is in your son's handwriting?" + +Mr. Meredith almost choked in mingled bewilderment and resentment at the +question and the manner of its asking. + +"I am positive, yes," he replied at last, preserving his tone of dignity +with a perceptible effort. He noted the inscrutable face of his caller +and saw the corrugations in the brow suddenly swept away. "What business +of yours is it, anyway?" blazed Mr. Meredith suddenly. + +"May I ask where _you_ were last Thursday night?" went on the even, +steady voice. + +"It's no business of yours," Mr. Meredith blurted. "I was in Baltimore." + +"Can you prove it in a court of law?" + +"Prove it? Of course I can prove it!" Mr. Meredith was fairly bellowing +at his impassive interrogator. "But it's nobody's business." + +"If you _can_ prove it, Mr. Meredith," remarked The Thinking Machine +quietly, coldly, "you had best make your arrangements to do so, because, +believe me, it may be necessary to save you from a charge of having +stolen the Randolph gold plate on last Thursday night at the masked +ball. Good-day, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +"But Mr. Herbert won't see anyone, sir," protested Blair. + +"Tell Mr. Herbert, please, that unless I can see him immediately his +bail-bond will be withdrawn," directed The Thinking Machine. + +He stood waiting in the hall while Blair went up the stairs. Dick +Herbert took the card impatiently and glanced at it. + +"Van Dusen," he mused. "Who the deuce is Van Dusen?" + +Blair repeated the message he had received below. + +"What does he look like?" inquired Dick. + +"He's a shrivelled little man with a big yellow head, sir," replied +Blair. + +"Let him come up," instructed Dick. + +Thus, within an hour after he had talked to Mr. Meredith, The Thinking +Machine met Dick Herbert. + +"What's this about the bail-bond?" Dick inquired. + +"I wanted to talk to you," was the scientist's calm reply. "That seemed +to be the easiest way to make you believe it was important, so----" + +Dick's face flushed crimson at the trick. + +"Well, you see me!" he broke out angrily. "I ought to throw you down the +stairs, but--what is it?" + +Not having been invited to a seat, The Thinking Machine took one anyway +and settled himself comfortably. + +"If you will listen to me for a moment without interruption," he began +testily, "I think the subject of my remarks will be of deep personal +concern to you. I am interested in solving this Randolph plate affair +and have perhaps gone further in my investigation than anyone else. At +least, I know more about it. There are some things I don't happen to +know, however, that are of the greatest importance." + +"I tell you----" stormed Dick. + +"For instance," calmly resumed the scientist, "it is very important for +me to know whether or not Harry Meredith was masked when he came into +this room last Thursday night." + +[Illustration: "Suddenly he stopped and turned upon The Thinking +Machine"] + +Dick gazed at him in surprise which approached awe. His eyes were widely +distended, the lower part of his face lax, for the instant; then his +white teeth closed with a snap and he sat down opposite The Thinking +Machine. Anger had gone from his manner; instead there was a pallor of +apprehension in the clean-cut face. + +"Who are you, Mr. Van Dusen?" he asked at last. His tone was mild, even +deferential. + +"Was he masked?" insisted the scientist. + +For a long while Dick was silent. Finally he arose and paced nervously +back and forth across the room, glancing at the diminutive figure of The +Thinking Machine each time as he turned. + +"I won't say anything," he decided. + +"Will you name the cause of the trouble you and Meredith had in +Harvard?" asked the scientist. + +Again there was a long pause. + +"No," Dick said finally. + +"Did it have anything to do with theft?" + +"I don't know who you are or why you are prying into an affair that, at +least on its face, does not concern you," replied Dick. "I'll say +nothing at all--unless--unless you produce the one man who can and shall +explain this affair. Produce him here in this room where I can get my +hands on him!" + +The Thinking Machine squinted at the sturdy shoulders with admiration in +his face. + +"Did it ever happen to occur to you, Mr. Herbert, that Harry Meredith +and his father are precisely of the same build?" + +Some nameless, impalpable expression crept into Dick's face despite an +apparent fight to restrain it, and again he stared at the small man in +the chair. + +"And that you and Mr. Meredith are practically of the same build?" + +Tormented by unasked questions and by those emotions which had +compelled him to silence all along, Dick still paced back and forth. His +head was whirling. The structure which he had so carefully guarded was +tumbling about his ears. Suddenly he stopped and turned upon The +Thinking Machine. + +"Just what do you know of this affair?" he asked. + +"I know for one thing," replied the scientist positively, "that you were +_not_ the man in the automobile." + +"How do you know that?" + +"That's beside the question just now." + +"Do you know who _was_ in the automobile?" Dick insisted. + +"I can only answer that question when you have answered mine," the +scientist went on. "Was Harry Meredith masked when he entered this room +last Thursday night?" + +Dick sat staring down at his hands, which were working nervously. +Finally he nodded. + +The Thinking Machine understood. + +"You recognised him, then, by something he said or wore?" + +Again Dick nodded reluctantly. + +"Both," he added. + +The Thinking Machine leaned back in his chair and sat there for a long +time. At last he arose as if the interview were at an end. There seemed +to be no other questions that he desired to ask at the moment. + +"You need not be unnecessarily alarmed, Mr. Herbert," he assured Dick as +he picked up his hat. "I shall act with discretion in this matter. I am +not representing anyone who would care to make it unpleasant for you. I +may tell you that you made two serious mistakes: the first when you saw +or communicated with Mr. Randolph immediately after the plate was stolen +the second time, and again when you undertook something which properly +belonged within the province of the police." + +Herbert still sat with his head in his hands as The Thinking Machine +went out. + +It was very late that night--after twelve, in fact--when Hutchinson +Hatch called on The Thinking Machine with excitement evident in tone, +manner, and act. He was accustomed to calling at any hour; now he found +the scientist at work as if it were midday. + +[Illustration] + +"The worst has happened," the reporter told him. + +The Thinking Machine didn't look around. + +"Detective Mallory and two of his men saw Miss Meredith this evening +about nine o'clock," Hatch hurried on, "and bully-ragged her into a +confession." + +"What sort of a confession?" + +"She admitted that she was in the automobile on the night of the ball +and that----" + +"Mr. Herbert was with her," the scientist supplied. + +"Yes." + +"And--what else?" + +"That her own jewels, valued at twenty thousand dollars, were among +those found in Herbert's possession when he was arrested." + +The Thinking Machine turned and looked at the reporter, just casually, +and raised his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn. + +"Well, she couldn't do anything else," he said calmly. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Hutchinson Hatch remained with The Thinking Machine for more than an +hour, and when he left his head was spinning with the multitude of +instructions which had been heaped upon him. + +"Meet me at noon in Detective Mallory's office at police headquarters," +The Thinking Machine had said in conclusion. "Mr. Randolph and Miss +Meredith will be there." + +"Miss Meredith?" Hatch repeated. "She hasn't been arrested, you know, +and I doubt if she will come." + +"She will come," the scientist had replied, as if that settled it. + +Next day the Supreme Intelligence was sitting in his private office. He +had eaten the canary; mingled triumph and gratification beamed upon his +countenance. The smile remained, but to it was added the quality of +curiosity when the door opened and The Thinking Machine, accompanied by +Dollie Meredith and Stuyvesant Randolph, entered. + +"Mr. Hatch called yet?" inquired the scientist. + +"No," responded the detective. + +"Dear me!" grumbled the other. "It's one minute after twelve o'clock +now. What could have delayed him?" + +His answer was the clattering rush of a cab and the appearance of Hatch +in person a moment later. He came into the room headlong, glanced +around, then paused. + +"Did you get it?" inquired The Thinking Machine. + +"Yes, I got it, but----" began the reporter. + +"Nothing else now," commanded the other. + +There was a little pause as The Thinking Machine selected a chair. The +others also sat down. + +"Well?" inquired the Supreme Intelligence at last. + +"I would like to ask, Mr. Mallory," the scientist said, "if it would be +possible for me to convince you of Mr. Herbert's innocence of the +charges against him?" + +"It would not," replied the detective promptly. "It would not while the +facts are before me, supplemented by the statement of Miss Meredith +here--her confession." + +Dollie coloured exquisitely and her lips trembled slightly. + +"Would it be possible, Miss Meredith," the even voice went on, "to +convince _you_ of Mr. Herbert's innocence?" + +"I--I don't think so," she faltered. "I--I _know_." + +Tears which had been restrained with difficulty gushed forth suddenly, +and The Thinking Machine squinted at her in pained surprise. + +"Don't do that," he commanded. "It's--it's exceedingly irritating." He +paused a moment, then turned suddenly to Mr. Randolph. "And you?" he +asked. + +Mr. Randolph shrugged his shoulders. + +The Thinking Machine receded still further into his chair and stared +dreamily upward with his long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip. +Hatch knew the attitude; something was going to happen. He waited +anxiously. Detective Mallory knew it, too, and wriggled uncomfortably. + +"Suppose," the scientist began, "just suppose that we turn a little +human intelligence on this problem for a change and see if we can't get +the truth out of the blundering muddle that the police have helped to +bring about. Let's use logic, inevitable logic, to show, simply enough, +that instead of being guilty, Mr. Herbert is innocent." + +Dolly Meredith suddenly leaned forward in her chair with flushed face, +eyes widely opened and lips slightly parted. Detective Mallory also +leaned forward in his chair, but there was a different expression on his +face--oh, so different. + +"Miss Meredith, we know you were in the automobile with the Burglar who +stole the plate," The Thinking Machine went on. "You probably knew that +he was wounded and possibly either aided in dressing the wound--as any +woman would--or else saw him dress it himself?" + +"I bound my handkerchief on it," replied the Girl. Her voice was low, +almost a whisper. + +"Where was the wound?" + +"In the right shoulder," she replied. + +"Back or front?" insisted the scientist. + +"Back," she replied. "Very near the arm, an inch or so below the level +of the shoulder." + +Except for The Thinking Machine himself Hatch was the only person in the +room to whom this statement meant anything, and he restrained a shout +with difficulty. + +"Now, Mr. Mallory," the scientist went on calmly, "do you happen to know +Dr. Clarence Walpole?" + +"I know of him, yes," replied the detective. "He is a man of +considerable reputation." + +"Would you believe him under oath?" + +"Why, certainly, of course." + +The Supreme Intelligence tugged at his bristly moustache. + +"If Doctor Walpole should dress a wound and should later, under oath, +point out its exact location, you would believe him?" + +"Why, I'd have to, of course." + +"Very well," commented The Thinking Machine tersely. "Now I will state +an incontrovertible scientific fact for your further enlightenment. You +may verify it anyway you choose. This is, briefly, that the blood +corpuscles in man average one-thirty-three hundredths of an inch in +diameter. Remember that, please: one-thirty-three hundredths of an inch. +The system of measurement has reached a state of perfection almost +incomprehensible to the man who does not understand." + +He paused for so long that Detective Mallory began to wriggle again. The +others were leaning forward, listening with widely varied expressions on +their faces. + +"Now, Mr. Mallory," continued The Thinking Machine at last, "one of your +men shot twice at the Burglar in the automobile, as I understand it?" + +"Yes--two shots." + +"Mr. Cunningham?" + +"Yes, Detective Cunningham." + +"Is he here now?" + +The detective pressed a button on his desk and a uniformed man appeared. +Instructions were given, and a moment later Detective Cunningham stood +before them wonderingly. + +"I suppose you can prove beyond any shadow of a doubt," resumed the +scientist, still addressing Mr. Mallory, "that two shots--_and only +two_--were fired?" + +"I can prove it by twenty witnesses," was the reply. + +"Good, very good," exclaimed the scientist, and he turned to Cunningham. + +"You _know_ that only two shots were fired?" + +"I know it, yes," replied Cunningham. "I fired 'em." + +"May I see your revolver?" + +Cunningham produced the weapon and handed it over. The Thinking Machine +merely glanced at it. + +"This is the revolver you used?" + +"Yes." + +"Very well, then," remarked the scientist quietly, "on that statement +alone Mr. Herbert is proven innocent of the charge against him." + +There was an astonished gasp all around. Hatch was beginning to see what +The Thinking Machine meant, and curiously watched the bewitchingly +sorrowful face of Dollie Meredith. He saw all sorts of strange things +there. + +"Proven innocent?" snorted Detective Mallory. "Why, you've convicted him +out of hand so far as I can see." + +"Corpuscles in human blood average, as I said, one-thirty-three +hundredths of an inch in diameter," resumed the scientist. "They vary +slightly each way, of course. Now, the corpuscles of the Burglar in the +automobile measured just one-thirty-one-forty-seven hundredths of an +inch. Mr. Herbert's corpuscles, tested the same way, with the same +instruments, measure precisely one-thirty-five-sixty hundredths." He +stopped as if that were all. + +"By George!" exclaimed Mr. Randolph. "By George!" + +"That's all tommy-rot," Detective Mallory burst out. "That's nothing to +a jury or to any other man with common sense." + +"That difference in measurement proves beyond question that Mr. Herbert +was not wounded while in the automobile," went on The Thinking Machine +as if there had been no interruption. "Now, Mr. Cunningham, may I ask if +the Burglar's back was toward you when you fired?" + +"Yes. He was going away from me." + +"Well, that statement agrees with the statement of Miss Meredith to show +that the Burglar was wounded in the back. Doctor Walpole dressed Mr. +Herbert's wound between two and three o'clock Friday morning following +the masked ball. Mr. Herbert had been shot, but the wound was in the +_front_ of his right shoulder." + +Delighted amazement radiated from Dollie Meredith's face; she clapped +her hands involuntarily as she would have applauded a stage incident. +Detective Mallory started to say something, then thought better of it +and glared at Cunningham instead. + +"Now, Mr. Cunningham says that he shot the Burglar with this revolver." +The Thinking Machine waved the weapon under Detective Mallory's nose. +"This is the usual police weapon. Its calibre is thirty-eight. Mr. +Herbert was shot with a _thirty-two_ calibre. Here is the bullet." And +he tossed it on the desk. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Strange emotions all tangled up with turbulent, night-marish impressions +scrambled through Dollie Meredith's pretty head in garish disorder. She +didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Finally she compromised by blushing +radiantly at the memory of certain lingering kisses she had bestowed +upon--upon--Dick Herbert? No, it wasn't Dick Herbert. Oh, dear! + +Detective Mallory pounced upon the bullet as a hound upon a hare, and +turned and twisted it in his hands. Cunningham leaned over his shoulder, +then drew a cartridge from the revolver and compared it, as to size, +with the bullet. Hatch and Mr. Randolph, looking on, saw him shake his +head. The ball was too small for the revolver. + +The Supreme Intelligence turned suddenly, fiercely, upon Dollie and +thrust an accusing finger into her startled face. + +"Mr. Herbert confessed to you that he was with you in the automobile, +didn't he?" + +"Y-yes," she faltered. + +"You _know_ he was with you?" + +"I thought I knew it." + +"You wouldn't have gone with any other man?" + +"Certainly not!" A blaze of indignation suffused her cheeks. + +"Your casket of jewels was found among the stolen goods in his +possession?" + +"Yes, but----" + +With a wave of his hand the Supreme Intelligence stopped explanations +and turned to glare at The Thinking Machine. That imperturbable +gentleman did not alter his position in the slightest, nor did he change +the steady, upward squint of his eyes. + +"If you have quite finished, Mr. Mallory," he said after a moment, "I +will explain how and in what circumstances the stolen plate and jewels +came into Mr. Herbert's possession." + +"Go on," urged Mr. Randolph and Hatch in a breath. + +"Explain all you please; I've got him with the goods on," declared the +Supreme Intelligence doggedly. + +"When the simplest rules of logic establish a fact it becomes +incontrovertible," resumed the scientist. "I have shown that Mr. Herbert +was _not_ the man in the automobile--the Burglar. Now, what _did_ happen +to Mr. Herbert? Twice since his arrest he has stated that it would be +useless for him to explain because no one would believe it, and no one +_would_ have believed it unsupported, least of all you, Mr. Mallory. + +"It's an admitted fact that Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert had planned to +elope from Seven Oaks the night of the ball. I daresay that Mr. Herbert +did not deem it wise for Miss Meredith to know his costume, although he +must, of necessity, have known hers. Therefore, the plan was for him to +recognise her, but as it developed she recognised him--or thought she +did--and that was the real cause of this remarkable muddle." He glanced +at Dollie. "Is that correct?" + +Dollie nodded blushingly. + +"Now, Mr. Herbert did not go to the ball--why not I will explain later. +Therefore, Miss Meredith recognised the real Burglar as Mr. Herbert, and +we know how they ran away together after the Burglar had stolen the +plate and various articles of jewelry. We must credit the Burglar with +remarkable intelligence, so that when a young and attractive woman--I +may say a beautiful woman--spoke to him as someone else he immediately +saw an advantage in it. For instance, when there came discovery of the +theft the girl might unwittingly throw the police off the track by +revealing to them what she believed to be the identity of the thief. +Further, he was a daring, audacious sort of person; the pure love of +such an adventure might have appealed to him. Still, again, it is +possible that he believed Miss Meredith a thief who was in peril of +discovery or capture, and a natural gallantry for one of his own craft +prompted him to act as he did. There is always, too, the possibility +that he knew he was mistaken for Mr. Herbert." + +Dollie was beginning to see, too. + +"We know the method of escape, the pursuit, and all that," continued +the Professor, "therefore we jump to the return of the gold plate. Logic +makes it instantly apparent that that was the work of Miss Meredith +here. Not having the plate, Mr. Herbert did not send it back, of course; +and the Burglar _would_ not have sent it back. Realising, too late, that +the man she was with was really a thief--and still believing him, +perhaps, to be Mr. Herbert--she must have taken the plate and escaped +under cover of darkness?" + +The tone carried a question and The Thinking Machine turned squintingly +upon Dollie. Again she nodded. She was enthralled, fascinated, by the +recital. + +"It was a simple matter for her to return the gold plate by express, +taking advantage of an unoccupied house and the willingness of a +stranger to telephone for an express wagon. Thus, we have the plate +again at Seven Oaks, and we have it there by the only method it could +have been returned there when we account for, and consider, every known +fact." + +The Thinking Machine paused and sat silently staring upward. His +listeners readjusted themselves in their chairs and waited impatiently. + +"Now, why did Mr. Herbert confess to Miss Meredith that he stole the +plate?" asked the scientist, as if of himself. "Perhaps she forced him +to it. Mr. Herbert is a young man of strong loyalty and a grim sense of +humour, this latter being a quality the police are not acquainted with. +However, Mr. Herbert _did_ confess to Miss Meredith that he was the +Burglar, but he made this confession, obviously, because she would +believe nothing else, and when a seeming necessity of protecting the +real Burglar was still uppermost in his mind. What he wanted was the +Girl. If the facts never came out he was all right; if they did come out +they would implicate one whom he was protecting, but through no fault of +his--therefore, he was still all right." + +"Bah!" exclaimed the Supreme Intelligence. "My experience has shown +that a man doesn't confess to a theft unless----" + +"So we may safely assume," The Thinking Machine continued almost +pleasantly, "that Mr. Herbert, by confessing the theft as a prank, +perhaps, won back Miss Meredith's confidence; that they planned an +elopement for the second time. A conversation Mr. Hatch had with Mr. +Herbert immediately after Mr. Herbert saw Miss Meredith practically +confirms it. Then, with matters in this shape, the real Burglar, to whom +I have accredited unusual powers, stole the plate the second time--we +know how." + +"Herbert stole it, you mean!" blazed Detective Mallory. + +"This theft came immediately on top of the reconciliation of Miss +Meredith and Mr. Herbert," The Thinking Machine went on steadily, +without heeding the remark by the slightest sign. "Therefore, it was +only natural that he should be the person most vitally interested in +seeing that the plate was again returned. He undertook to do this +himself. The result was that, where the police had failed, he found the +plate and a lot of jewels, took them from the Burglar, and was about to +return Mr. Randolph's property when the detectives walked in on him. +That is why he laughed." + +Detective Mallory arose from his seat and started to say something +impolite. The presence of Dollie Meredith choked the words back and he +swallowed hard. + +"Who then," he demanded after a couple of gulps--"who do you say is the +thief if Herbert is not?" + +The Thinking Machine glanced up into his face, then turned to Hatch. + +"Mr. Hatch, what is that name I asked you to get?" + +"George Francis Hayden," was the stammering reply, "but--but----" + +"Then George Francis Hayden is the thief," declared The Thinking Machine +emphatically. + +"But I--I started to say," Hatch blurted--"I started to say that George +Francis Hayden has been dead for two years." + +The Thinking Machine rose suddenly and glared at the reporter. There was +a tense silence, broken at last by a chuckle from Detective Mallory. + +"Dead?" repeated the scientist incredulously. "Do you _know_ that?" + +"Yes, I--I know it." + +The Thinking Machine stood for another moment squinting at him, then, +turning, left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Half an hour later The Thinking Machine walked in, unannounced, upon +Dick Herbert. The front door had not been locked; Blair was somewhere in +the rear. Herbert, in some surprise, glanced up at his visitor just in +time to see him plank himself down solidly into a chair. + +"Mr. Herbert," the scientist began, "I have gone out of my way to prove +to the police that you were not in the automobile with Miss Meredith, +and that you did not steal the gold plate found in your possession. Now, +I happen to know the name of the thief, and----" + +"And if you mention it to one living soul," Dick added suddenly, hotly, +"I shall forget myself and--and----" + +"His name is George Francis Hayden," the scientist continued. + +Dick started a little and straightened up; the menace dropped from him +and he paused to gaze curiously into the wizened face before him. After +a moment he drew a sigh of deep relief. + +"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Oh!" + +"I know that that isn't who you thought it was," resumed the other, "but +the fact remains that Hayden is the man with whom Miss Meredith +unwittingly eloped, and that Hayden is the man who actually stole the +plate and jewels. Further, the fact remains that Hayden----" + +"Is dead," Dick supplemented grimly. "You are talking through your----" +He coughed a little. "You are talking without any knowledge of what you +are saying." + +"He can't be dead," remarked the scientist calmly. + +"But he _is_ dead!" Dick insisted. + +"He can't be dead," snapped the other abruptly. "It's perfectly silly to +suppose such a thing. Why, I have proven absolutely, by the simplest +rules of logic, that he stole the gold plate, therefore he cannot be +dead. It's silly to say so." + +Dick wasn't quite certain whether to be angry or amused. He decided to +hold the matter in abeyance for the moment and see what other strange +thing would develop. + +"How long has he been dead?" continued the scientist. + +"About two years." + +"You _know_ it?" + +"Yes, I know it." + +"_How_ do you know it?" + +"Because I attended his funeral," was the prompt reply. Dick saw a +shadow of impatience flash into his visitor's face and instantly pass. + +"How did he die?" queried the scientist. + +"He was lost from his catboat," Dick answered. "He had gone out sailing, +alone, while in a bathing-suit. Several hours after the boat drifted in +on the tide without him. Two or three weeks later the body was +recovered." + +"Ah!" exclaimed The Thinking Machine. + +Then, for half an hour or so, he talked, and--as he went on, incisively, +pointedly, dramatically, even, at times--Dick Herbert's eyes opened +wider and wider. At the end he rose and gripped the scientist's slender +white fingers heartily in his own with something approaching awe in his +manner. Finally he put on his hat and they went out together. + +That evening at eight o'clock Detective Mallory, Hutchinson Hatch, Mr. +Randolph, Mr. Meredith, Mr. Greyton, and Dollie Meredith gathered in a +parlour of the Greyton home by request of The Thinking Machine. They +were waiting for something--no one knew exactly what. + +Finally there came a tinkle at the bell and The Thinking Machine +entered. Behind him came Dick Herbert, Dr. Clarence Walpole, and a +stranger. Mr. Meredith glanced up quickly at Herbert, and Dollie lifted +her chin haughtily with a stony stare which admitted of no compromise. +Dick pleaded for recognition with his eyes, but it was no use, so he sat +down where he could watch her unobserved. + +Singular expressions flitted over the countenance of the Supreme +Intelligence. Right here, now, he knew the earth was to be jerked out +from under him and he was not at all certain that there would be +anything left for him to cling to. This first impression was +strengthened when The Thinking Machine introduced Doctor Walpole with an +ostentatious squint at Mr. Mallory. The detective set his teeth hard. + +The Thinking Machine sat down, stretched out his slender legs, turned +his eyes upward, and adjusted his fingers precisely, tip to tip. The +others watched him anxiously. + +"We will have to go back a few years to get the real beginning of the +events which have culminated so strangely within the past week," he +said. "This was a close friendship of three young men in college. They +were Mr. Herbert here, a freshman, and Harry Meredith and George Francis +Hayden, juniors. This friendship, not an unusual one in college, was +made somewhat romantic by the young men styling themselves The Triangle. +They occupied the same apartments and were exclusive to a degree. Of +necessity Mr. Herbert was drawn from that exclusiveness, to a certain +extent by his participation in football." + +A germ of memory was working in Hatch's mind. + +"At someone's suggestion three triangular watch charms were made, +identical in every way save for initials on the back. They bore a symbol +which was meaningless except to The Triangle. They were made to order +and are, therefore, the only three of the kind in the world. Mr. Herbert +has one now on his watch chain, with his own initials; there is another +with the initials 'G. F. H.' in the lot of jewelry Mr. Mallory recovered +from Mr. Herbert. The third is worn by Harry Meredith, who is now in +Buenos Ayres. The American Consul there has confirmed, by cable, that +fact. + +"In the senior year the three young men of The Triangle were concerned +in the mysterious disappearance of a valuable diamond ring. It was +hushed up in college after it seemed established that Mr. Herbert was a +thief. Knowing his own innocence and seeing what seemed to be an +exclusive opportunity for Harry Meredith to have done what was charged, +Mr. Herbert laid the matter to him, having at that time an interview +with Harry's father. The result of that interview was more than ever to +convince Mr. Meredith of Mr. Herbert's guilt. As a matter of fact, the +thief in that case was George Francis Hayden." + +There were little murmurs of astonishment, and Mr. Meredith turned and +stared at Dick Herbert. Dollie gave him a little glance out of a corner +of her eye, smiled, then sat up primly. + +"This ended The Triangle," resumed the scientist. "A year or so later +Mr. Herbert met Miss Meredith. About two years ago George Francis Hayden +was reported drowned from his catboat. This was confirmed, apparently, +by the finding of his body, and an insurance company paid over a large +sum--I think it was $25,000--to a woman who said she was his wife. But +George Francis Hayden was not drowned; he is alive now. It was a +carefully planned fraud against the insurance company, and it succeeded. + +"This, then, was the situation on last Thursday--the night of the +masked ball at Seven Oaks--except that there had grown up a love affair +between Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert. Naturally, the father opposed +this because of the incident in college. Both Miss Meredith and Mr. +Herbert had invitations to that ball. It was an opportunity for an +elopement and they accepted it. Mr. Herbert sent word to her what +costume to wear; she did not know the nature of his. + +"On Thursday afternoon Miss Meredith sent her jewel-casket, with +practically all her jewels, to Mr. Herbert. She wanted them, naturally; +they probably planned a trip abroad. The maid in this house took the +casket and gave it into Mr. Herbert's own hands. Am I right?" He turned +squarely and squinted at Dollie. + +"Yes," she gasped quickly. She smiled distractingly upon her father and +he made some violent remarks to himself. + +"At this point, Fate, in the guise of a masked Burglar, saw fit to step +into the affair," the scientist went on after a moment. "About +nine-thirty, Thursday evening, while Mr. Herbert was alone, the masked +Burglar, George Francis Hayden, entered Mr. Herbert's house, possibly +thinking everyone was away. There, still masked, he met Mr. Herbert, +who--by something the Burglar said and by the triangular charm he +wore--recognised him as _Harry Meredith_. Remember, he thought he knew +George Francis Hayden was dead. + +"There were some words and a personal encounter between the two men. +George Francis Hayden fired a shot which struck Mr. Herbert in the right +shoulder--in front--took the jewel-casket in which Mr. Herbert had +placed his card of invitation to the ball, and went away, leaving Mr. +Herbert senseless on the floor." + +Dollie's face blanched suddenly and she gasped. When she glanced +involuntarily at Dick she read the love-light in his eyes, and her +colour returned with a rush. + +"Several hours later, when Mr. Herbert recovered consciousness," the +unruffled voice went on, "he went to Doctor Walpole, the nearest +physician, and there the bullet was extracted and the wound dressed. +The ball was thirty-two calibre?" + +Doctor Walpole nodded. + +"And Mr. Cunningham's revolver carried a thirty-eight," added the +scientist. "Now we go back to the Burglar. He found the invitation in +the casket, and the bold scheme, which later he carried out so +perfectly, came to him as an inspiration. He went to the ball just as he +was. Nerve, self-possession, and humour took him through. We know the +rest of that. + +"Naturally, in the circumstances, Mr. Herbert, believing that Harry +Meredith was the thief, would say nothing to bring disgrace upon the +name of the girl he loved. Instead, he saw Miss Meredith, who would not +accept his denial then, and in order to get her first--explanations +might come later--he confessed to the theft, whereupon they planned the +second elopement. + +"When Miss Meredith returned the plate by express there was no +anticipation of a second theft. Here is where we get a better +understanding of the mettle of the real Burglar--George Francis Hayden. +He went back and got the plate from Seven Oaks. Instantly that upset the +second elopement plan. Then Mr. Herbert undertook the search, got a +clew, followed it, and recovered not only the plate, but a great lot of +jewels." + +There was a pause. A skyrocket ascended in Hatch's mind and burst, +illuminating the whole tangled story. Detective Mallory sat dumbly, +thinking harsh words. Mr. Meredith arose, went over to Dick Herbert, and +solemnly shook his hand, after which he sat down again. Dollie smiled +charmingly. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"Now that is what actually happened," said The Thinking Machine, after a +little while. "How do I know it? Logic, logic, logic! The logical mind +can start from any given point and go backward or forward, with equal +facility, to a natural conclusion. This is as certain as that two and +two make four--not _sometimes_, but _all_ the time. + +"First in this case I had Mr. Hatch's detailed examination of each +circumstance. By an inspiration he connected Mr. Herbert and Miss +Meredith with the affair and talked to both before the police had any +knowledge at all of them. In other words, he reached at a bound what +they took days to accomplish. After the second theft he came to me and +related the story." + +The reporter blushed modestly. + +"Mr. Hatch's belief that the thing that had happened to Mr. Herbert and +Miss Meredith bore on the theft," resumed the scientist, "was +susceptible of confirmation or refutation in only one way, this being so +because of Mr. Herbert's silence--due to his loyalty. I saw that. But, +before I went further, I saw clearly what had actually happened _if_ I +presupposed that there _had_ been some connection. Thus came to me, I +may say here, the almost certain knowledge that Miss Meredith had a +brother, although I had never heard of him or her." + +He paused a little and twiddled his thumbs thoughtfully. + +"Suppose you give us just your line of reasoning," ventured Hatch. + +"Well, I began with the blood-stains in the automobile to either bring +Mr. Herbert into this affair or shut him out," replied the scientist. +"You know how I made the blood tests. They showed conclusively that the +blood on the cushion was not Mr. Herbert's. Remember, please, that, +although I knew Miss Meredith had been in the automobile, I also knew +she was not wounded; therefore the blood was that of someone else--the +man. + +"Now, I knew Mr. Herbert had been wounded--he wouldn't say how. If at +home, would he not go to the nearest physician? Probably. I got Doctor +Walpole's name from the telephone-book--he being nearest the Herbert +home--and sent Mr. Hatch there, where he learned of the wound in front, +and of the thirty-two calibre ball. I already knew the police revolvers +were thirty-eight calibre; therefore Mr. Herbert was not wounded while +in the automobile. + +"That removed Mr. Herbert as a possibility in the first theft, despite +the fact that his invitation-card was presented at the door. It was +reasonable to suppose that invitation had been stolen. Immediately after +the plate was returned by express, Mr. Herbert effected a reconciliation +with Miss Meredith. Because of this and for other reasons I could not +bring myself to see that he was a party to the second theft, as I knew +him to be innocent of the first. Yet, what happened to him? Why wouldn't +he say something? + +"All things must be imagined before they can be achieved; therefore +imagination is one of the most vital parts of the scientific brain. In +this instance I could only imagine why Mr. Herbert was silent. Remember, +he was shot and wouldn't say who did it. Why? If it had been an ordinary +thief--and I got the idea of a thief from the invitation-card being in +other hands than his--he would not have hesitated to talk. Therefore, it +was an _extraordinary_ thief in that it connected with something near +and dear to him. No one was nearer and dearer to him than Miss Meredith. +Did she shoot him? No. Did her father shoot him? Probably not, but +possibly. A brother? That began to look more reasonable. Mr. Herbert +would probably not have gone so far to protect one less near to her than +brother or father. + +"For the moment I assumed a brother, not knowing. How did Mr. Herbert +know this brother? Was it in his college days? Mr. Hatch brought me a +list of the students of three years before his graduating year and +there I found the name, Harry Meredith. You see, step by step, pure +logic was leading me to something tangible, definite. My next act was to +see Mr. Meredith and ask for the address of his son--an only son--whom +at that time I frankly believed was the real thief. But this son was in +South America. That startled me a little and brought me up against the +father as a possible thief. He was in Baltimore on that night. + +"I accepted that as true at the moment after some--er--some pleasant +words with Mr. Meredith. Then the question: Was the man who stole from +Mr. Herbert, probably entering his place and shooting him, masked? Mr. +Herbert said he was. I framed the question so as to bring Harry +Meredith's name into it, much to Mr. Herbert's alarm. How had he +recognised him as Harry Meredith? By something he said or wore? Mr. +Herbert replied in the affirmative--both. Therefore I had a masked +Burglar who could _not_ have been either Harry Meredith or Harry +Meredith's father. Who was he? + +"I decided to let Mr. Hatch look into that point for me, and went to see +Doctor Walpole. He gave me the bullet he had extracted from Mr. +Herbert's shoulder. Mr. Hatch, shortly after, rushed in on me with the +statement that Miss Meredith had admitted that Mr. Herbert had confessed +to her. I could see instantly _why_ he had confessed to her. Then Mr. +Hatch undertook for me the investigation of Herbert's and Harry +Meredith's career in college. He remembered part of it and unearthed the +affair of The Triangle and the theft of a diamond ring. + +"I had asked Mr. Hatch to find for me if Harry Meredith and Mr. Herbert +had had a mutual intimate in college. They had. George Francis Hayden, +the third member of the Triangle. Then the question seemed solved, but +Mr. Hatch upset everything when he said that Mr. Hayden was dead. I went +immediately to see Mr. Herbert. From him I learned that, although Mr. +Hayden was _supposed_ to be dead and buried, there was no positive proof +of it; the body recovered had been in the water three weeks and was +consequently almost unrecognisable. Therefore, the theft came inevitably +to Mr. Hayden. Why? Because the Burglar had been recognised by something +he said and wore. It would have been difficult for Mr. Herbert to +recognise a masked man so positively unless the masked man _wore_ +something he absolutely _knew_, or _said_ something he absolutely +_knew_. Mr. Herbert _thought_ with reason that the masked man was Harry +Meredith, but, with Harry Meredith in South America, the thief was +incontrovertibly George Francis Hayden. There was no going behind that. + +"After a short interview as to Hayden, during which Mr. Herbert told me +more of The Triangle and the three watch charms, he and I went out +investigating. He took me to the room where he had found the plate and +jewels--a place in an apartment-house which this gentleman manages." The +scientist turned to the stranger, who had been a silent listener. "He +identified an old photograph of George Francis Hayden as an occupant of +an apartment. + +"Mr. Herbert and I searched the place. My growing idea, based on the +established knavery of George Francis Hayden, that he was the real thief +in the college incident, was proven when I found this ring there--the +ring that was stolen at that time--with the initials of the owner in +it." + +The Thinking Machine produced the ring and offered it to Detective +Mallory, who had allowed the earth to slip away from him slowly but +surely, and he examined it with a new and absorbed interest. + +"Mr. Herbert and I learned of the insurance fraud in another +manner--that is, when we knew that George Francis Hayden was not dead, +we knew there had been a fraud. Mr. Hayden has been known lately as +Chester Goodrich. He has been missing since Mr. Herbert, in his absence, +recovered the plate and the jewels in his apartments. I may add that, up +to the day of the masked ball, he was protected from casual recognition +by a full beard. He is now clean-shaven." + +The Thinking Machine glanced at Mr. Mallory. + +"Your man--Downey, I think it was--did excellent work," he said, "in +tracing Miss Meredith from the time she left the automobile until she +returned home, and later leading you to Mr. Herbert. It was not strange +that you should have been convinced of his guilt when we consider the +goods found in his possession and also the wound in his shoulder. The +only trouble is he didn't get to the real insides of it." + +That was all. For a long time there was silence. Dollie Meredith's +pretty face was radiant and her eyes were fastened on her father. Mr. +Meredith glanced at her, cleared his throat several times, then arose +and offered his hand to Dick Herbert. + +"I have done you an injustice, sir," he said gravely. "Permit me to +apologise. I think perhaps my daughter----" + +That was superfluous. Dollie was already beside Dick, and a rousing, +smacking, resounding kiss echoed her father's words. Dick liked it some +and was ready for more, but Dollie impetuously flung her arms around +the neck of The Thinking Machine, and he--passed to his reward. + +"You dear old thing!" she gurgled. "You're just too sweet and cute for +anything." + +[Illustration] + +"Dear me! Dear me!" fussed The Thinking Machine. "Don't do that. It +annoys me exceedingly." + + * * * * * + +Some three months later, when the search for George Francis Hayden had +become only lukewarm, this being three days before Miss Meredith's +wedding to Dick Herbert, she received a small box containing a solitaire +ring and a note. It was brief: + + In memory of one night in the woods and of what happened + there, permit me to give this--you can't return it. It is one + of the few things honest money from me ever paid for. + + BILL, THE BURGLAR. + +While Dollie examined the ring with mingled emotions Dick stared at the +postmark on the package. + +"It's a corking good clew," he said enthusiastically. + +Dollie turned to him, recognising a menace in the words, and took the +paper which bore the postmark from his hands. + +"Let's pretend," she said gently--"let's pretend we don't know where it +came from!" + +Dick stared a little and kissed her. + + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Repaired obvious spelling and punctuation typos. Period spellings and +unusual grammatical usages retained. + +Both "waggon" and "wagon" were used in this text, consistent within +character voices--retained. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Chase of the Golden Plate, by Jacques Futrelle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE *** + +***** This file should be named 38981.txt or 38981.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/9/8/38981/ + +Produced by David Starner, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from images made available by the +HathiTrust Digital Library.) + + +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. 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