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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Million Dollar Mystery, by Harold MacGrath
+
+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 Million Dollar Mystery
+       Novelized from the Scenario of F. Lonergan
+
+Author: Harold MacGrath
+
+Release Date: March 14, 2012 [EBook #39134]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MILLION DOLLAR MYSTERY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover art]
+
+
+
+
+
+[Frontispiece: THE PAPER SHE HAD PURLOINED WAS INDEED BLANK]
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MILLION DOLLAR MYSTERY
+
+
+Novelized from the Scenario of
+
+F. LONERGAN
+
+
+
+BY
+
+HAROLD MACGRATH
+
+
+
+  AUTHOR OF
+  THE MAN ON THE BOX,
+  THE GOOSE GIRL, HEARTS AND MASKS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+  PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED
+  WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTO PLAY
+
+
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+PUBLISHERS : NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1915
+
+HAROLD MACGRATH
+
+
+
+
+  _Published by arrangement with
+  The Bobbs-Merrill Company_.
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+The paper she had purloined was indeed blank . . . . . . _Frontispiece._
+
+Miss Farlow's Private School
+
+You might have marked him for a successful lawyer.
+
+The Princess Perigoff
+
+The Black Hundred
+
+Friends from Tophet
+
+The Peaceful Butler entered into the field of action
+
+She had gained the confidence of Florence
+
+There was a stormy scene between Braine and the Princess
+
+Norton reached the Captain first
+
+She read with Susan
+
+"Who is it?" Jones whispered, his lips white and dry.
+
+He read: "Florence--the hiding place is discovered."
+
+That night there was a meeting of the organization
+
+Jones engaged a motorboat
+
+"Leo, are you using any drugs these days?"
+
+The Secret Panel
+
+Four men were told off
+
+"Better be sensible," he said
+
+They had become secretly engaged
+
+With her he was happy, for he had no time to plan over the future
+
+They were to be married
+
+Florence was permitted to wander about the ship as she pleased
+
+Every one felt extremely sorry for this beautiful girl
+
+Florence steals out in the night to jump overboard
+
+A young and beautiful woman did not jump from a big Atlantic
+  liner without the newspapers getting hold of the facts
+
+"The poor young thing!" murmured the motherly Mrs. Barnes
+
+"Come out o' that now!"
+
+"I ain't goin' t' hurt ye"
+
+Florence fought; but she was weak, and so the conquest was easy
+
+"I know it now," she said, and she kissed him
+
+He had put Florence and Braine in the boat and had landed them
+
+They bound Florence and left her seated in a chair
+
+They did not care a snap of the finger what Jones thought
+
+She first thought of changing the clock
+
+He took her straight to the executive chamber of the Black Hundred
+
+Here was an operation that needed all his care and skill.
+
+He examined the blotter with care
+
+The men rioted about the house, searching nooks and corners
+
+They were mapping out a plan when Susan's message came
+
+Norton was idling at his desk when the city editor called him
+
+"Give this to your father.  He knows how to read it."
+
+Florence discovers the cave
+
+Florence steals the papers from Braine's pocket
+
+Braine procured a launch and began to prowl about
+
+Braine reached the girl and pulled her into the boat
+
+From the shore came another boat
+
+"They have all three taken out naturalization papers."
+
+"Just a minute, gentlemen!"
+
+The Police Captain's desk
+
+They were tumbling through the library and the living room
+
+Braine sank inertly to the floor, dead
+
+Instantly they sought the fallen man's side
+
+A quick clutch and the policeman had her by the wrist
+
+The Mystic Million
+
+"Florence, that is all yours."
+
+Immediately after the ceremony
+
+After the storm, the sunshine
+
+
+
+
+The Million Dollar Mystery
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+There are few things darker than a country road at night, particularly
+if one does not know the lay of the land.  It is not difficult to
+traverse a known path; no matter how dark it is, one is able to find
+the way by the aid of a mental photograph taken in the daytime.  But
+supposing you have never been over the road in the daytime, that you
+know nothing whatever of its topography, where it dips or rises, where
+it narrows or forks.  You find yourself in the same unhappy state of
+mind as a blind man suddenly thrust into a strange house.
+
+One black night, along a certain country road in the heart of New
+Jersey, in the days when the only good roads were city thoroughfares
+and country highways were routes to limbo, a carriage went forward
+cautiously.  From time to time it careened like a blunt-nosed barge in
+a beam sea.  The wheels and springs voiced their anguish continually;
+for it was a good carriage, unaccustomed to such ruts and hummocks.
+
+"Faster, faster!" came a muffled voice from the interior.
+
+"Sir, I dare not drive any faster," replied the coachman.  "I can't see
+the horses' heads, sir, let alone the road.  I've blown out the lamps,
+but I can't see the road any better for that."
+
+"Let the horses have their heads; they'll find the way.  It can't be
+much farther.  You'll see lights."
+
+The coachman swore in his teeth.  All right.  This man who was in such
+a hurry would probably send them all into the ditch.  Save for the few
+stars above, he might have been driving Beelzebub's coach in the
+bottomless pit.  Black velvet, everywhere black velvet.  A wind was
+blowing, and yet the blackness was so thick that it gave the coachman
+the sensation of mild suffocation.
+
+By and by, through the trees, he saw a flicker of light.  It might or
+might not be the destination.  He cracked his whip recklessly and the
+carriage lurched on two wheels.  The man in the carriage balanced
+himself carefully, so that the bundle in his arms should not be unduly
+disturbed.  His arms ached.  He stuck his head out of the window.
+
+"That's the place," he said.  "And when you drive up make as little
+noise as you can."
+
+"Yes, sir," called down the driver.
+
+When the carriage drew up at its journey's end the man inside jumped
+out and hastened toward the gates.  He scrutinized the sign on one of
+the posts.  This was the place:
+
+  MISS FARLOW'S PRIVATE SCHOOL
+
+[Illustration: MISS FARLOW'S PRIVATE SCHOOL]
+
+
+The bundle in his arms stirred and he hurried up the path to the door
+of the house.  He seized the ancient knocker and struck several times.
+He then placed the bundle on the steps and ran back to the waiting
+carriage, into which he stepped.
+
+"Off with you!"
+
+"That's a good word, sir.  Maybe we can make your train."
+
+"Do you think you could find this place again?"
+
+"You couldn't get me on this pike again, sir, for a thousand; not me!"
+
+The door slammed and the unknown sank back against the cushions.  He
+took out his handkerchief and wiped the damp perspiration from his
+forehead.  The big burden was off his mind.  Whatever happened in the
+future, they would never be able to get him through his heart.  So much
+for the folly of his youth.
+
+It was a quarter after ten.  Miss Susan Farlow had just returned to the
+reception room from her nightly tour of the upper halls to see if all
+her charges were in bed, where the rules of the school confined them
+after nine-thirty.  It was at this moment that she heard the thunderous
+knocking at the door.  The old maid felt her heart stop beating for a
+moment.  Who could it be, at this time of night?  Then the thought came
+swiftly that perhaps the parent of some one of her charges was ill and
+this was the summons.  Stilling her fears, she went resolutely to the
+door and opened it.
+
+"Who is it?" she called.
+
+No one answered.  She cupped her hand to her ear.  She could hear the
+clatter of horses dimly.
+
+"Well!" she exclaimed; rather angrily, too.
+
+She was in the act of closing the door when the light from the hall
+discovered to her the bundle on the steps.  She stooped and touched it.
+
+"Good heavens, it's a child!"
+
+She picked the bundle up.  A whimper came from it, a tired little
+whimper of protest.  She ran back to the reception room.  A foundling!
+And on her doorstep!  It was incredible.  What in the world should she
+do?  It would create a scandal and hurt the prestige of the school.
+Some one had mistaken her select private school for a farmhouse.  It
+was frightful.
+
+Then she unwrapped the child.  It was about a year old, dimpled and
+golden haired.  A thumb was in its rosebud mouth and its blue eyes
+looked up trustfully into her own.
+
+"Why, you cherub!" cried the old maid, a strange turmoil in her heart.
+She caught the child to her breast, and then for the first time noticed
+the thick envelope pinned to the child's cloak.  She put the baby into
+a chair and broke open the envelope.
+
+"Name this child Florence Gray.  I will send annually a liberal sum for
+her support and reclaim her on her eighteenth birthday.  The other half
+of the inclosed bracelet will identify me.  Treat the girl well, for I
+shall watch over her in secret."
+
+Into the fixed routine of her humdrum life had come a mystery, a
+tantalizing, fascinating mystery.  She had read of foundlings left on
+doorsteps--from paper-covered novels confiscated from her pupils--but
+that one should be placed upon her own respectable doorstep!  Suddenly
+she smiled down at the child and the child smiled back.  And there was
+nothing more to be done except to bow before the decrees of fate.  Like
+all prim old maids, her heart was full of unrequited romance, and here
+was something she might spend its floods upon without let or hindrance.
+Already she was hoping that the man or woman who had left it might
+never come back.
+
+The child grew.  Regularly each year, upon a certain date, Miss Farlow
+received a registered letter with money.  These letters came from all
+parts of the world; always the same sum, always the same line--"I am
+watching."
+
+Thus seventeen years passed; and to Susan Farlow each year seemed
+shorter than the one before.  For she loved the child with all her
+heart.  She had not trained young girls all these years without
+becoming adept in the art of reading the true signs of breeding.  There
+was no ordinary blood in Florence; the fact was emphasized by her
+exquisite face, her small hands and feet, her spirit and gentleness.
+And now, at any day, some one with a broken bracelet might come for
+her.  As the days went on the heart of Susan Farlow grew heavy.
+
+"Never mind, aunty," said Florence; "I shall always come back to see
+you."
+
+She meant it, poor child; but how was she to know the terrors which lay
+beyond the horizon!
+
+
+The house of Stanley Hargreave, in Riverdale, was the house of no
+ordinary rich man.  Outside it was simple enough, but within you
+learned what kind of a man Hargreave was.  There were rare Ispahans and
+Saruks on the floors and tapestries on the walls, and here and there a
+fine painting.  The library itself represented a fortune.  Money had
+been laid out lavishly but never wastefully.  It was the home of a
+scholar, a dreamer, a wide traveler.
+
+In the library stood the master of the house, idly fingering some
+papers which lay on the study table.  He shrugged at some unpleasant
+thought, settled his overcoat about his shoulders, took up his hat, and
+walked from the room, frowning slightly.  The butler, who also acted in
+the capacity of valet and was always within call when his master was
+about, stepped swiftly to the hall door and opened it.
+
+"I may be out late, Jones," said Hargreave.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Hargreave stared into his face keenly, as if trying to pierce the grave
+face to learn what was going on behind it.  "How long have you been
+with me?"
+
+"Fourteen years, sir."
+
+"Some day I shall need you."
+
+"My life has always been at your disposal, sir, since that night you
+rescued me."
+
+"Well, I haven't the least doubt that when I ask you will give."
+
+"Without question, sir.  It was always so understood."
+
+Hargreave's glance sought the mirror, then the smileless face of his
+man.  He laughed, but the sound conveyed no sense of mirth; then he
+turned and went down the steps slowly, like a man burdened with some
+thought which was not altogether to his liking.  He had sent an order
+for his car, but had immediately countermanded it.  He would walk till
+he grew tired, hail a taxicab, and take a run up and down Broadway.
+The wonderful illumination might prove diverting.  For eighteen years
+nearly; and now it was as natural for him to throw a glance over his
+shoulder whenever he left the house as it was for him to breathe.  The
+average man would have grown careless during all these years; but
+Hargreave was not an average man; he was, rather, an extraordinary
+individual.  It was his life in exchange for eternal vigilance, and he
+knew and accepted the fact.
+
+Half an hour later he got into a taxicab and directed the man to drive
+down-town as far as Twenty-third Street and back to Columbus circle.
+The bewildering display of lights, however, in nowise served to lift
+the sense of oppression that had weighed upon him all day.  South of
+Forty-second Street he dismissed the taxicab and stared undecidedly at
+the brilliant sign of a famous restaurant.  He was neither hungry nor
+thirsty; but there would be strange faces to study and music.
+
+It was an odd whim.  He had not entered a Broadway restaurant in all
+these years.  He was unknown.  He belonged to no clubs.  Two months was
+the longest time he had ever remained in New York since the disposal of
+his old home in Madison Avenue and his resignation from his clubs.
+This once, then, he would break the law he had written down for
+himself.  Boldly he entered the restaurant.
+
+Some time before Hargreave surrendered to the restless spirit of
+rebellion, bitterly to repent for it later, there came into this
+restaurant a man and a woman.  They were both evidently well known, for
+the head waiter was obsequious and hurried them over to the best table
+he had left and took the order himself.
+
+The man possessed a keen, intelligent face.  You might have marked him
+for a successful lawyer, for there was an earnestness about his
+expression which precluded a life of idleness.  His age might have been
+anywhere between forty and fifty.  The shoulders were broad and the
+hands which lay clasped upon the table were slim but muscular.  Indeed,
+everything about him suggested hidden strength and vitality.  His
+companion was small, handsome, and animated.  Her frequent gestures and
+mutable eyebrows betrayed her foreign birth.  Her age was a matter of
+importance to no one but herself.
+
+[Illustration: YOU MIGHT HAVE MARKED HIM FOR A SUCCESSFUL LAWYER]
+
+They were at coffee when she said: "There's a young man coming toward
+us.  He is looking at you."
+
+The man turned.  Instantly his face lighted up with a friendly smile of
+recognition.
+
+"Who is it?" she asked.
+
+"A chap worth knowing; a reporter just a little out of the ordinary.
+I'm going to introduce him.  You never can tell.  We might need him
+some day.  Ah, Norton, how are you?"
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Braine."  The reporter, catching sight of a pair of
+dazzling eyes, hesitated.
+
+"The Countess Perigoff, Norton.  You're in no hurry, are you?"
+
+[Illustration: THE PRINCESS PERIGOFF]
+
+"Not now," smiled the reporter.
+
+"Ah!" said the countess, interested.  It was the old compliment, said
+in an unusual way.  It pleased her.
+
+The reporter sank into a chair.  When inactive he was rather a
+dreamy-eyed sort of chap.  He possessed that rare accomplishment of
+talking upon one subject and thinking upon another at the same time.
+So while he talked gaily with the young woman on varied themes, his
+thoughts were busy speculating upon her companion.  He was quite
+certain that the name Braine was assumed, but he was also equally
+certain that the man carried an extraordinary brain under his thatch of
+salt and pepper hair.  The man had written three or four brilliant
+monographs on poisons and the uses of radium, and it was through and by
+these that the reporter had managed to pick up his acquaintance.  He
+lived well, but inconspicuously.
+
+Suddenly the pupils of Braine's eyes narrowed; the eye became cold.
+Over the smoke of his cigarette he was looking into the wall mirror.  A
+man had passed behind him and sat down at the next table.  Still gazing
+into the mirror, Braine saw Norton wave his hand; saw also the open
+wonder on the reporter's pleasant face.
+
+"Who is your friend, Norton?" Braine asked indifferently, his head
+still unturned.
+
+"Stanley Hargreave.  Met him in Hongkong when I was sent over to handle
+a part of the revolution.  War correspondence stuff.  First time I ever
+ran across him on Broadway at night.  We've since had some powwows over
+some rare books.  Queer old cock; brave as a lion, but as quiet as a
+mouse."
+
+"Bookish, eh?  My kind.  Bring him over."  Underneath the table Braine
+maneuvered to touch the foot of the countess.
+
+"I don't know," said the reporter dubiously.  "He might say no, and
+that would embarrass the whole lot of us.  He's a bit of a hermit.  I'm
+surprised to see him here."
+
+"Try," urged the countess.  "I like to meet men who are hermits."
+
+"I haven't the least doubt about that," the reporter laughed.  "I'll
+try; but don't blame me if I'm rebuffed."
+
+He left the table with evident reluctance and approached Hargreave.
+The two shook hands cordially, for the elder man was rather fond of
+this medley of information known as Jim Norton.
+
+"Sit down, boy; sit down.  You're just the kind of a man I've been
+wanting to talk to to-night."
+
+"Wouldn't you rather talk to a pretty woman?"
+
+"I'm an old man."
+
+"Bah!  That's a hypocritical bluff, and you know it.  My friends at the
+next table have asked me to bring you over."
+
+"I do not usually care to meet strangers."
+
+"Make an exception this once," said the reporter, who had seen Braine's
+eyes change and was curious to know why the appearance of Hargreave in
+the mirror had brought about that metally gleam.  Here were two unique
+men; he desired to see them face to face.
+
+"This once.  My fault; I ought not to be here; I feel out of place.
+What a life, though, you reporters lead!  To meet kings and presidents
+and great financiers, socialists and anarchists, the whole scale of
+life, and to slap these people on the back as if they were every-day
+friends!"
+
+"Now you're making fun of me.  For one king there are always twenty
+thick brogans ready to kick me down the steps; don't forget that."
+
+Hargreave laughed.  "Come, then; let us get it over with."
+
+The introductions were made.  Norton felt rather chagrined.  As far as
+he could see, the two men were total strangers.  Well, it was all in
+the game.  Nine out of ten opportunities for the big story were fake
+alarms; but he was always willing to risk the labor these nine entailed
+for the sake of the tenth.
+
+At length Braine glanced at his watch, and the countess nodded.  Adieux
+were said.  Inside the taxicab Braine leaned back with a deep, audible
+sigh.
+
+"What is it?" she asked.
+
+"The luck of the devil's own," he said.  "Child of the Steppes, for
+years I've flown about seas and continents, through valleys and over
+mountains--for what?  For the sight of the face of that man we have
+just left.  At first glance I wasn't sure; but the sound of his voice
+was enough.  Olga, the next time you see that reporter, throw your arms
+around his neck and kiss him.  What did I tell you?  Without Norton's
+help I would not have been sure.  I'm going to leave you at your
+apartment."
+
+"The man of the Black Hundred?" she whispered.
+
+"The man who deserted and defied the Black Hundred, who broke his vows,
+and never paid a kopeck for the privilege; the man who had been
+appointed for the supreme work and who ran away.  In those days we
+needed men of his stamp, and to accomplish this end...."
+
+"There was a woman," she interrupted, with a touch of bitterness.
+
+"Always the woman.  And she was as clever and handsome as you are."
+
+"Thanks.  Sometimes..."
+
+"Ah, yes!" ironically.  "Sometimes you wish you could settle down,
+marry and have a family!  Your domesticity would last about a month."
+
+She made no retort because she recognized the truth of this statement.
+
+"There's an emerald I know of," he said ruminatively.  "It's quite
+possible that you may be wearing it within a few days."
+
+"I am mad over them.  There is something in the green stone that
+fascinates me.  I can't resist it."
+
+"That's because, somewhere in the far past, your ancestors were
+orientals.  Here we are.  I'll see you to-morrow.  I must hurry.  Good
+night."
+
+She stood on the curb for a moment and watched the taxicab as it
+whirled around a corner.  The man held her with a fascination more
+terrible than any jewel.  She knew him to be a great and daring rogue,
+cunning, patient, fearless.  Packed away in that mind of his there were
+a thousand accomplished deeds which had roused futilely the police of
+two continents.  Braine!  She could have laughed.  The very name he had
+chosen was an insolence directed at society.
+
+The subject of her thoughts soon arrived at his destination.  A flight
+of stairs carried him into a dimly lighted hall, smelling evilly of
+escaping gas.  He donned a black mask and struck the door with a series
+of light blows; two, then one, then three, and again one.  The door
+opened and he slipped inside.  Round a table sat several men, also
+masked.  They were all tried and trusted rogues; but not one of them
+knew what Braine looked like.  He alone remained unknown save to the
+man designated as the chief, who was only Braine's lieutenant.  The
+mask was the insignia of the Black Hundred, an organization with all
+the ramifications of the Camorra without their abiding stupidity.  From
+the assassination of a king, down to the robbery of a country
+post-office, nothing was too great or too small for their nets.  Their
+god dwells in the hearts of all men and is called greed.
+
+The ordinary business over, the chief dismissed the men, and he and
+Braine alone remained.
+
+"Vroon, I have found him," said Braine.
+
+"There are but few: which one?"
+
+"Eighteen years ago, in St. Petersburg."
+
+"I remember.  The millionaire's son.  Did he recognize you?"
+
+"I don't know.  Probably he did.  But he always had good nerves.  He is
+being followed at this moment.  We shall strike quick; for if he
+recognized me he will act quick.  He is cool and brave.  You remember
+how he braved us that night in Russia.  Jumped boldly through the
+window at the risk of breaking his neck.  He landed safely; that is the
+only reason he eluded us.  Millions--and they slipped through our
+fingers.  If I could only find some route to his heart!  The lure we
+held out to him is dead."
+
+[Illustration: THE BLACK HUNDRED]
+
+"Or in the fortress, which is the same thing.  What are your plans?"
+
+"I have in mind something like this."
+
+And Hargreave was working out his plans, too; and he was just as much
+of a general as Braine.  He sat at his library table, the maxillary
+muscles of his jaws working.  So they had found him?  Well, he had
+broken the law of his own making and he must suffer the consequences.
+Braine, who was Menshikoff in Russia, Schwartz in Germany, Mendoza in
+Spain, Cartucci in Italy, and Du Bois in France; so the rogue had found
+him out?  Poor fool that he had been!  High spirited, full of those
+youthful dreams of doing good in the world, he had joined what he had
+believed a great secret socialistic movement, to learn that he had been
+trapped by a band of brilliant thieves.  Kidnapers and assassins for
+hire; the Black Hundred; fiends from Tophet!  For nearly eighteen years
+he had eluded them, for he knew that directly or indirectly they would
+never cease to hunt for him; and an idle whim had toppled him into
+their clutches.
+
+He wrote several letters feverishly.  The last was addressed to Miss
+Susan Farlow and read: "Dear Madam: Send Florence Gray to New York, to
+arrive here Friday morning.  My half of the bracelet will be
+identification.  Inclosed find cash to square accounts."  He would get
+together all his available funds, recover his child, and fly to the
+ends of the world.  He would tire them out.  They would find that the
+peaceful dog was a bad animal to rouse.  He rang for the faithful Jones.
+
+"Jones, they have found me," he said simply.
+
+"You will need me, then?"
+
+"Quite possible.  Please mail these and then we'll talk it over.  No
+doubt some one is watching outside.  Be careful."
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+Hargreave bowed his head in his hands.  Many times he had journeyed to
+the school and hung about the gates, straining his eyes toward the
+merry groups of young girls.  Which among them was his, heart of his
+heart, blood of his blood?  That she might never be drawn into this
+abominable tangle, he had resolutely torn her out of his life
+completely.  The happiness of watching the child grow into girlhood he
+had denied himself.  She at least would be safe.  Only when she was
+safe in a far country would he dare tell her.  He tried in vain to
+conjure up a picture of her; he always saw the mother whom he had loved
+and hated with all the ardor of his youth.
+
+Many things happened the next day.  There was a visit to the hangar of
+one William Orts, the aviator, famous for his daredevil exploits.
+There were two visitors, in fact, and the second visitor was knocked
+down for his pains.  He had tried to bribe Orts.
+
+There were several excited bankers, who protested against such large
+withdrawals without the usual formal announcement.  But a check was a
+check, and they had to pay.
+
+[Illustration: FIENDS FROM TOPHET]
+
+Hargreave covered a good deal of ground, but during all this time his
+right hand never left the automatic in his overcoat pocket, except at
+those moments when he was obliged to sign his checks.  He would shoot
+and make inquiries afterward.
+
+Far away a young girl and her companion got on the train which was to
+carry her to New York, the great dream city she was always longing to
+see.
+
+And the spider wove his web.
+
+Hargreave reached home at night.  He put the money in the safe and was
+telephoning when Jones entered and handed his master an unstamped note.
+
+"Where did you get this?"
+
+"At the door, sir.  I judge that the house is surrounded."
+
+Hargreave read the note.  It stated briefly that all his movements
+during the day had been noted.  It was known that he had collected a
+million in paper money.  If he surrendered this he would be allowed
+twenty-four hours before the real chase began.  Otherwise he should die
+before midnight.  Hargreave crushed the note in his hand.  They might
+kill him; there was a chance of their accomplishing that; but never
+should they touch his daughter's fortune.
+
+"Jones, you go to the rear door and I'll take a look out of the front.
+We have an hour.  I know the breed.  They'll wait till midnight and
+then force their way in."
+
+Hargreave saw a dozen shadows in the front yard.
+
+"Men all about the back yard," whispered Jones down the hall.
+
+The master eyed the man.
+
+"Very well, sir," replied the latter, with understanding.  "I am ready."
+
+The master went to the safe, emptied it of its contents, crossed the
+hall to the bedroom, and closed the door softly behind him, Jones
+having entered the same room through another door to befool any
+possible watcher.  After a long while, perhaps an hour, the two men
+emerged from the room from the same doors they had entered.  So
+whispered the watcher to his friends below.
+
+"Hargreave is going up-stairs."
+
+"Let him go.  Let him take a look at us from the upper windows.  He
+will understand that nothing but wings will save him."
+
+Silence.  By and by a watcher reported that he heard the scuttle of the
+roof rattle.
+
+"Look!" another cried, startled.
+
+A bluish glare came from the roof.
+
+"He's shooting off a Roman candle!"
+
+They never saw the man-made bird till it alighted upon the roof.  They
+never thought of shooting at it until it had taken wing!  Then they
+rushed the doors of the house.  They made short work of Jones, whom
+they tied up like a Christmas fowl and plumped roughly into a chair.
+They broke open the safe, to find it empty.  And while the rogues were
+rummaging about the room, venting their spite upon many a treasure they
+could neither appreciate nor understand, a man from the outside burst
+in.
+
+"The old man is dead and the money is at the bottom of the ocean!  We
+punctured her.  She's gone!"
+
+A thin, inscrutable smile stirred the lips of the man bound in the
+chair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Vroon faced Hargreave's butler somberly.  The one reason why Braine
+made this man his lieutenant was because Vroon always followed the
+letter of his instructions to the final period; he never sidestepped or
+added any frills or innovations of his own, and because of this very
+automatism he rarely blundered into a trap.  If he failed it was for
+the simple fact that the master mind had overlooked some essential
+detail.  The organization of the Black Hundred was almost totally
+unknown to either the public or the police.  It is only when you fail
+that you are found out.
+
+"The patrolman has been trussed up like you," began Vroon.  "If they
+find him they will probably find you.  But before that you will grow
+thirsty and hungry.  Where did your master put that money?"
+
+"He carried it with him."
+
+"Why didn't you call for help?"
+
+"The houses on either side are too far away.  I might yell till
+doomsday without being heard.  They will have heard the pistol shots;
+but Mr. Hargreave was always practising in the back yard."
+
+"The people in those two houses have been called out of town.  The
+servants are off for the night."
+
+"Very interesting," replied Jones, staring at the rug.
+
+"Your master is dead."
+
+Jones' chin sank upon his breast.  His heart was heavy, heavier than it
+had ever been before.
+
+"Your master left a will?"
+
+"Indeed, I could not say."
+
+"We can say.  He has still three or four millions in stocks and bonds.
+What he took to the bottom of the sea with him was his available cash."
+
+"I know nothing about his finances.  I was his butler and valet."
+
+Vroon nodded.  "Come, men; it is time we took ourselves off.  Put
+things in order; close the safe.  You poor jackals, I always have to
+watch you for outbreaks of vandalism.  Off with you!"
+
+He was the last to leave.  He stared long and searchingly at Jones, who
+felt the burning gaze but refused to meet it lest the plotter see the
+fire in his.  The door closed.  For fully an hour Jones listened but
+did not stir.  They were really gone.  He pressed his feet to the floor
+and began to hitch the chair toward the table.  Half-way across the
+intervening space he crumpled in the chair, almost completely
+exhausted.  He let a quarter of an hour pass, then made the final
+attack upon the remaining distance.  He succeeded in reaching the desk,
+but he could not have stirred an inch farther.  The hair on his head
+was damp with sweat and his hands were clammy.
+
+When he felt strength returning he lifted the telephone off the hook
+with his teeth.
+
+"Central, central!  Call the police to come to this number at once;
+Hargreave's house, Riverdale.  Tell them to break in."
+
+After what seemed an age of waiting to the exhausted prisoner, with
+crashing and smashing of doors, the police appeared in the room.
+
+"Where's your gag?" demanded the first officer to reach Jones' side.
+
+"There wasn't any."
+
+"Then why didn't you yell for help?"
+
+"The thieves lured our neighbors away from town.  The patrolman who
+walks this beat is bound and gagged and is probably reposing back of
+the billboard in the next block."
+
+"Murphy, you watch this man while I make a call on the neighbors," said
+the officer who seemed to be in authority.  When he returned he was
+frowning seriously.  "We'd better telephone to the precinct to search
+for Dennison.  There's nobody at home in either house and there's
+nobody back of the billboards.  Untie the man."  When this was done,
+the officer said: "Now, tell us what's happened; and don't forget any
+of the details."
+
+Jones told a simple and convincing story; it was so simple and
+convincing that the police believed it without question.
+
+"Well, if that ain't the limit!  Did you hear any autos outside?"
+
+"I don't recollect," said Jones, stretching his legs gratefully.  "Why?"
+
+"The auto bandits held up a bank messenger to-day and got away with
+twenty thousand.  Whenever a man draws down a big sum they seem to know
+about it.  And say, Murphy, call up and have the river police look out
+for a new-fangled airship.  Your master may have been rescued," turning
+to Jones.
+
+"If I were only sure of that, sir!"
+
+When the police took themselves off Jones proceeded to act upon those
+plans laid down by Hargreave early that night.  When this was done he
+sought his bed and fell asleep, the sleep of the exhausted.  When
+Hargreave picked up Jones to share his fortunes, he had put his trust
+in no ordinary man.
+
+A dozen reporters trooped out to the Hargreave home, only to find it
+deserted.  And while they were ringing bells and tapping windows, the
+man they sought was tramping up and down the platform of the railway
+station.
+
+Through all this time Norton, the reporter, Hargreave's only friend,
+slept the sleep of the just and unjust.  He rarely opened his eyes
+before noon.
+
+Group after group of passengers Jones eyed eagerly.  Often, just as he
+was in the act of approaching a couple of young women, some man would
+hurry up, and there would be kisses or handshakes.  At length the crowd
+thinned, and then it was that he discovered a young girl perhaps
+eighteen, accompanied by a young woman in the early thirties.  They had
+the appearance of eagerly awaiting some one.  Jones stepped forward
+with a good deal of diffidence.
+
+"You are waiting for some one?"
+
+"Yes," said the elder woman, coldly.
+
+"A broken bracelet?"
+
+The distrust on both faces vanished instantly.  The young girl's face
+brightened, her eyes sparkled with suppressed excitement.
+
+"You are ... my father?"
+
+"No, miss," very gravely.  "I am the butler."
+
+"Let me see your part of the bracelet," said the young girl's guardian,
+a teacher who had been assigned to this delicate task by Miss Farlow,
+who could not bring herself to say good-by to Florence anywhere except
+at the school gates.
+
+The halves were produced and examined.
+
+"I believe we may trust him, Florence."
+
+"Let us hurry to the taxicab.  We must not stand here."
+
+"My mother?"
+
+"She is dead.  I believe she died shortly after your birth.  I have
+been with your father but fourteen years.  I know but little of his
+life prior to that."
+
+"Why did he leave me all these years without ever coming to see me?
+Why?"
+
+"It is not for me, Miss Florence, to inquire into your father's act.
+But I do know that whatever he did was meant for the best.  Your
+welfare was everything to him."
+
+"It is all very strange," said the girl, bewilderedly.  "Why didn't he
+come to meet me instead of you?"
+
+Jones stared at his hands, miserably.
+
+"Why?" she demanded.  "I have thought of him, thought of him.  He has
+hurt me with all this neglect.  I expected to see him at the station,
+to throw my arms, around his neck and ... forgive him!"  Tears swam in
+her eyes as she spoke.
+
+"Everything will be explained to you when we reach the house.  But
+always remember this, Miss Florence: You were everything in this wide
+world to your father.  You will never know the misery and loneliness he
+suffered that you might not have one hour of unrest.  What are your
+plans?" he asked abruptly of the teacher from Miss Farlow's.
+
+"That depends," she answered, laying her hand protectingly over the
+girl's.
+
+"You could leave Miss Farlow's on the moment?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then you will stay and be Miss Florence's companion?"
+
+"Gladly."
+
+"What is my father's name?"
+
+"Hargreave, Stanley Hargreave."
+
+The girl's eyes widened in terror.  Suddenly she burst into a wild
+frenzy of sobbing, her head against the shoulder of her erstwhile
+teacher.
+
+Jones appeared visibly shocked.  "What is it?"
+
+"We read the story in the newspaper," said the elder woman, her own
+eyes filling with tears.  "The poor child!  To have all her
+castles-in-air tumble down like this!  But what authority have you to
+engage me?" sensibly.
+
+Jones produced a document, duly signed by Hargreave, and witnessed and
+sealed by a notary, in which it was set forth that Henry Jones, butler
+and valet to Stanley Hargreave, had full powers of attorney in the
+event of his (Hargreave's) disappearance; in the event of his death,
+till Florence became of legal age.
+
+Said Jones as he put the document back in his pocket: "What is your
+name?"
+
+"Susan Wane."
+
+"Do you love this child?"
+
+"With all my heart, the poor unhappy babe!"
+
+"Thank you!"
+
+Inside the home he conducted them through the various rooms, at the
+same time telling them what had taken place during the preceding night.
+
+"They have not found his body?" asked Florence.  "My poor, poor father!"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then he may be alive!"
+
+"Please God that he may!" said the butler, with genuine piety, for he
+had loved the man who had gone forth into the night so bravely and so
+strangely.  "This is your room.  Your father spent many happy hours
+here preparing it for you."
+
+Tears came into the girl's eyes again, and discreetly Jones left the
+two alone.
+
+"What shall I do, Susan?  Whatever shall I do?"
+
+"Be brave as you always are.  I will never leave you till you find your
+father."
+
+Florence kissed her fervently.  "What is your opinion of the butler?"
+
+"I think we may both trust him absolutely."
+
+Then Florence began exploring the house.  Susan followed her closely.
+Florence peered behind the mirrors, the pictures, in the drawers of the
+desk, in the bookcases.
+
+"What are you hunting for, child?"
+
+"A photograph of father."  But she found none.  More, there were no
+photographs of any kind to be found in Stanley Hargreave's home.
+
+When Norton awoke, he naturally went to the door for the morning papers
+which were always placed in a neat pile before the sill.  He yawned,
+gathered up the bundle, was about to climb back into bed, when a
+headline caught his dull eyes.  Twenty-one minutes later, to be
+precise, he ran up the steps of the Hargreave home and rang the bell.
+He was admitted by the taciturn Jones, to whom the reporter had never
+paid any particular attention.  Somehow Jones always managed to stand
+in shadows.
+
+"I can add nothing to what has already appeared in the newspapers,"
+replied Jones, as Norton opened his batteries of inquiries.
+
+"Mr. Jones, I have known your master several years, as you will
+recollect.  There never was a woman in this house, not even among the
+servants.  There are two in the other room.  Who are they?  And what
+are they doing here?"
+
+Jones shook his head.
+
+"Well, I can easily find out."
+
+Jones barred his path, and for the first time Norton gazed into the
+eyes of the man servant.  They were as hard as gun metal.
+
+"My dear Mr. Jones, you ought to know that sooner or later we reporters
+find out what we seek."
+
+Jones appeared to reflect.  "Mr. Norton, you claim to be a friend of
+Mr. Hargreave?"
+
+"I do not claim.  I am.  More than that I do not believe he is dead.
+He was deep.  He had some relentless enemies--I don't know where from
+or what kind--and he is pretending he's dead till this blows over and
+is forgotten."
+
+"You are not going to say that in your newspaper?"  Jones was visibly
+agitated.
+
+"Not if I can prove it."
+
+"If I tell you who those young ladies are, will you give me your word
+of honor not to write about them till I give my permission?"
+
+Norton, having in mind the big story at the end of the mystery tangle,
+agreed.
+
+"The elder is a teacher from a private school; the other is Stanley
+Hargreave's daughter."
+
+"Good lord!" gasped the astonished reporter.  "He never mentioned the
+fact to me, and we've been together in some tight places."
+
+"He never mentioned it to any one but me."  Jones again seemed to
+reflect.  At last he raised his glance to the reporter.  "Are you
+willing to wait for a great story, the real story?"
+
+"If there is one," answered Norton with his usual caution.
+
+"On my word of honor, you shall have such a story as you never dreamed
+of, if you will promise not to divulge it till the appointed time."
+
+"I agree."
+
+"The peace and happiness of that child depends upon how you keep your
+word."
+
+That was sufficient for Norton.  "Your master knew me.  He also knew
+that I am not a man who promises lightly.  Now introduce me to the
+daughter."
+
+With plain reluctance Jones went about the affair.  Norton put a dozen
+perfunctory questions to the girl.  What he was in search of was not
+news but the sound of her voice.  In that quarter of an hour he felt
+his heart disturbed as it had never before been disturbed.
+
+"Now, Mr. Norton," said Jones gloomily, "will you be so kind as to
+follow me?"
+
+Norton was led to Jones' bedroom.  The butler-valet closed the door and
+drew the window shade.  Always seeking shadows.  This did not impress
+the reporter at the time; he had no other thought but the story.  Jones
+then sat down beside the reporter and talked in an undertone.  When he
+had done he took Norton by the elbow and gently but forcibly led him
+down to the front door and ushered him forth.  Norton jumped into his
+taxicab and returned to his rooms, which were at the top of the huge
+apartment hotel.  He immediately called up his managing editor.
+
+"Hello!  This is Norton.  Put Griffin on the Hargreave yarn.  I'm off
+on another deal."
+
+"But Hargreave was a friend of yours," protested the managing editor.
+
+"I know it.  But you know me well enough, Mr. Blair.  I should not ask
+the transfer if it was not vitally important."
+
+"Oh, very well."
+
+"We shan't be scooped."
+
+"If you can promise that, I don't care who works on the job.  Will you
+be in the office to-night?"
+
+"If nothing prevents me."
+
+"Well, good-by."
+
+Norton filled his pipe, drew his chair to the window, and stared at the
+great liner going down to sea.
+
+"Lord, lord!" he murmured.  Then he smiled and chuckled.  Some bright
+morning he would have all New York by the ears, the police running
+round in circles, and the chiefs of the rival sheets tearing their
+hair.  What a story!  Four columns on the first page, and two whole
+pages Sunday....  And all of a sudden he ceased to smile and chuckle.
+
+In the living room of the Countess Olga Perigoff's apartment the
+mistress lay reading on the divan.  There was no cigarette between her
+well shaped lips, for she was not the accepted type of adventuress.  In
+fact, she was not an adventuress; she was really the Countess Perigoff.
+Her maiden name had been Olga Pushkin; but more of that later.
+
+When Braine came in he found her dreaming with half-closed eyes.  He
+flourished an evening newspaper.
+
+"Olga, even the best of us make mistakes.  Here, just glance over this."
+
+The Russian accepted the newspaper and read the heading indicated:
+"Aeronaut picked up far out at sea.  Slips ashore from tramp steamer.
+Had five thousand in cash in his pockets."
+
+"Hargreave escaped!"
+
+"Not necessarily," she replied.  "If it was Hargreave he would have had
+more than five thousand in his pockets.  My friend, I believe it an
+attempt to fool you; or it is another man entirely."  She clicked her
+teeth with the tops of her polished nails.
+
+"There are two young women in the house.  What the deuce can that mean?"
+
+"Two young women?  Oh! then everything's as simple as daylight.
+Katrina Pushkin, my cousin, had a child."
+
+"Child?  Hargreave had a child?  What do you mean by keeping this fact
+from me?" he stormed.
+
+"It was useless till this moment.  He probably sent for her yesterday;
+but in his effort to escape had to turn her over to his butler.  We
+shall soon learn whether Hargreave is dead or alive.  We can use the
+child to bring him back."
+
+The anger went out of his eyes.  "You're a wonder, Olga."
+
+"But you should have gone with Vroon last night.  He does everything
+just as you tell him.  When they reported that Hargreave had visited
+Orts' hangar you ought to have prepared against such a coup as flight
+through the air."
+
+"I admit it.  But a daughter!  Well, I can bring him back," with a
+sinister laugh.  "By the Lord Harry, I have him in my hands this time,
+that is, if this girl turns out to be his daughter.  A million?  Two,
+three, all he has in the world.  I want you to pay a visit right away.
+Watch the butler, Jones.  He'll lie, of course; but note how he treats
+the girl; and if you get the chance look around the walls for a secret
+panel.  He might not have carried away the cash at all, only enough for
+his immediate needs, which would account for that five thousand on the
+man picked up at sea.  If I could only get inside that house for an
+hour!"
+
+"I believe I'll call at once.  Leo, was Hargreave the man's real name?"
+
+Braine laughed.  "That is of no vital consequence.  He will be
+Hargreave till the end of the chapter, dead or alive.  You can tell me
+the news at dinner to-night."
+
+So, later, when the butler accepted her card at the door, loath as he
+might be, there was nothing for him to do but admit her.
+
+"Whom do you wish to see, madam?" stepping back into the shadow.
+
+"Miss Hargreave.  I'm an old friend of her mother's."
+
+"There is no such person here."
+
+"To whom, then, does this hat belong?" she asked quietly.  She waved
+her hand indolently toward the hall rack.
+
+Jones' lips tightened.  "That belongs to Miss Gray, a kind of protegee
+of Mr. Hargreave's."
+
+"Indeed!  You have no objections to my seeing her?  My maiden name was
+Olga Pushkin, cousin to Katrina, wife of Stanley Hargreave.  I am, if
+you will weigh the matter carefully, a kind of aunt."
+
+To Jones it was as if ice had suddenly come into contact with his
+heart's blood.  But as he still stood in the shadow, she did not
+observe the pallor of his face.
+
+"If you will state exactly why you wish to see her, madam."
+
+"You seem to possess authority?"
+
+"Yes, madam, absolute authority."
+
+Jones produced his document and presented it to her.
+
+"There is no flaw in that," she agreed readily.  "I wish to see the
+child.  I have told you why."
+
+"Very well, madam."  Why had they not telegraphed the child, even on
+the train, to return to Farlow's.  He knew nothing of this woman,
+whether she was an enemy or a friend.  He conducted his unwelcome guest
+into the library.
+
+"How did you know that she was here?" suddenly.
+
+But she was ready.  "I did not.  But the death of Mr. Hargreave brought
+me.  And that youthful hat in the hall was a story all its own.  Later
+I shall show you some papers of my own.  You will have no cause to
+doubt them.  They have not the legal power of yours, but they would
+find standing in any court."
+
+Jones turned and went in search of Florence.
+
+The countess lost no time in beginning her investigations, but she
+wasted her time.  There was no secret panel in evidence.
+
+"Who is she?" asked Florence as she looked at the card.  "Did my father
+know countesses?"
+
+"Yes," said Jones briefly.  "Be very careful what you say to her.
+Admit nothing.  She claims to be a cousin of your mother.  Perhaps."
+
+"My mother?"  Without waiting for any further advice from Jones, whom
+Florence in her young years thought presuming upon his authority, she
+ran downstairs to the library.  Her mother, to learn some facts about
+the mother of whom she knew nothing!
+
+"You knew my mother?" she cried without ceremony,
+
+Jones heard the countess say: "I did, my child; and heaven is witness
+that you are the exact picture of her at your age.  And I knew your
+father."
+
+Jones straightened, his hands shut tightly.
+
+"Tell me about my father!"
+
+The countess smiled.  It was Katrina.  Pushkin come to life, the same
+impulsiveness.  "I knew him but slightly.  I was a mere child myself
+when he used to pinch my cheeks.  I met him again the other night, but
+he did not recognize me; and I could not find it in my heart to awaken
+his memory in a public restaurant."
+
+Presently Jones came in to announce that two detectives requested to
+see Florence.  The two men entered, informing her that they had been
+instructed to investigate the disappearance of Stanley Hargreave.
+
+"Who are you, miss?"
+
+"I am his daughter."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+One of the detectives questioned Florence minutely, while the other
+wandered about the rooms, feeling the walls, using the magnifying
+glass, turning back the rugs.  Even the girl's pretty room did not
+escape his scrutiny.  By and by he returned to the library and beckoned
+to his companion.  The two conferred for a moment.  One chanced to look
+into the mirror.  He saw the bright eyes of the countess gazing
+intelligently into his.
+
+[Illustration: THE PEACEFUL BUTLER ENTERED INTO THE FIELD OF ACTION]
+
+"I'm afraid we'll have to ask you to accompany us to the station, miss."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Some technicalities.  We must have some proof of your right to be in
+this house.  So far as we have learned, Hargreave was unmarried.  It
+will take but a few minutes."
+
+"And I will accompany you," said the countess.  "We'll be back within
+half an hour.  I'll tell them what I know."
+
+Jones, in the hall, caught sight of the reporter coming up the steps.
+Here was some one he could depend upon.
+
+"Why, Mr. Norton!"
+
+The reporter eyed the countess in amazement.
+
+"You look surprised.  Naturally.  I am a cousin of Miss Florence's
+mother.  You might say that I am her aunt.  It's a small world, isn't
+it?"  But if wishing could poison, the reporter would have died that
+moment.
+
+"Who are you and what are you doing here?" one of the detectives
+demanded.
+
+"I am going to ask that very question of you," said Norton urbanely.
+
+"We are from headquarters," replied one, showing his badge.
+
+"What headquarters?  What are they asking you to do?" he said to
+Florence.
+
+"They say I must go to the police station with them."
+
+"Not the least in the world," laughed the reporter.  "You two clear out
+of here as fast as your rascally legs can carry you.  I don't know what
+your game is, but I do know every reputable detective in New York, and
+you don't belong."
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed the countess; "do you mean to say that these
+men are not real detectives?"
+
+"This girl goes to the police station, young man.  So much the worse
+for you if you meddle.  Take yourself off!"
+
+"All in good time."
+
+"Here, Jenner, you take charge of the girl.  I'll handle this guy.  He
+shall go to the station, too."
+
+What followed would always be vividly remembered by Florence, fresh
+from the peace and happiness of her school life.  Norton knocked his
+opponent down.  He rose and for a moment the room seemed full of legs
+and arms and panting men.  A foot tripped up Norton and he went down
+under the bogus detective.  He never suspected that the tripping foot
+was not accidental.  He was too busy.
+
+The other man dragged Florence toward the hall, but there the peaceful
+butler entered into the field of action with a very unattractive
+automatic.  The detective threw up his hands.
+
+The struggle went on in the library.  A trick of jiu-jutsu brought
+about the downfall of Norton's man, and Norton ran out into the hall to
+aid Jones.  He searched the detective's pockets and secured the
+revolver.  The result of all this was that the two bogus detectives
+soon found themselves in charge of two policemen, and they were marched
+off to the station.
+
+"Your advent was most providential, Mr. Norton," said Jones in his
+usual colorless tones.
+
+"I rather believe so.  Why don't you pack up and clear out for a while?"
+
+"I am stronger in this house than elsewhere," answered the butler
+enigmatically.
+
+"Well, you know best," said the reporter.
+
+The countess was breathing rapidly.  No, on second thought she had no
+wish to throw her arms about the reporter's neck and kiss him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+The countess did not remain long after the departure of the police with
+the bogus detectives.  It had been a very difficult corner to wriggle
+out of, all because Braine had added to his plans after she had left
+the apartment.  But for the advent of the meddling reporter the coup
+would have succeeded, herself apparently perfectly innocent of
+complicity.  That must be the keynote of all her plans: to appear quite
+innocent and leave no trail behind her.  She had gained the confidence
+of Florence and her companion.  And she was rather certain that she had
+impressed this lazy-eyed reporter and the stolid butler.  She had told
+nothing but the truth regarding her relationship.  They would find that
+out.  She was Katrina Pushkin's cousin.  But blood with her counted as
+naught.  She had room in her heart but for two things, Braine and money
+to spend on her caprices.
+
+[Illustration: SHE HAD GAINED THE CONFIDENCE OF FLORENCE]
+
+"How long has your highness known Mr. Braine?" asked the reporter idly,
+as he smoothed away all signs of his recent conflict.
+
+"Oh, the better part of a year.  Mr. Hargreave did not recognize me the
+other night.  That was quite excusable, for when he last saw me I was
+not more than twelve.  My child," she said to Florence, "build no hopes
+regarding your mother.  She is doubtless dead.  Upon some trivial
+matter--I do not know what it was--she was confined to the fortress.
+That was seventeen years ago.  When you enter the fortress at St.
+Petersburg, you cease to be."
+
+"That is true enough."
+
+"I did not recall myself to your father.  I did not care at that moment
+to shock him with the remembrance of the past.  Is not Mr. Braine a
+remarkable man?"  All this in her charming broken English.
+
+"He is, indeed," affirmed Norton.  "He's a superb linguist, knows
+everybody and has traveled everywhere.  No matter what subject you
+bring up he seems well informed."
+
+"Come often," urged Florence.
+
+"I shall, my child.  And any time you need me, call for me.  After all,
+I am nearly your aunt.  You will find life in the city far different
+from that which you have been accustomed to."
+
+She limped down to her limousine.  In tripping up Norton he had stepped
+upon her foot heavily.
+
+"She is lovely!" cried Florence.
+
+"Well, I must be on my way, also," said Norton.  "I am a worldly-wise
+man, Miss Florence.  So is Jones here.  Never go any place without
+letting him know; not even to the corner drug store.  I am going to
+find your father.  Some one was rescued.  I'm going to find out whether
+it was the aviator or Mr. Hargreave."
+
+Jones drew in a deep breath and his eyes closed for a moment.  At the
+door he spoke to the reporter.
+
+"What do you think of that woman?"
+
+"I believe that she told the truth.  She is charming."
+
+"She is.  But for all her charm and truth I can not help distrusting
+her.  I have an idea.  I shall call up your office at the end of each
+day.  If a day comes without a call, you will know that something is
+wrong."
+
+"A very good idea."  Norton shook hands with every one and departed.
+
+"What a brave, pleasant young man!" murmured Susan.
+
+"I like him, too; and I'd like him for a friend," said the guileless
+girl.
+
+"It is very good to have a friend like Mr. Norton," added Jones; and
+passed out into the kitchen.  All the help had been discharged and upon
+his shoulders lay the burden of the cooking till such time when he
+could reinstate the cook.
+
+There was a stormy scene between Braine and the countess that night.
+
+[Illustration: THERE WAS A STORMY SCENE BETWEEN BRAINE AND THE PRINCESS]
+
+"Are you in your dotage?" she asked vehemently.
+
+"There, there; bring your voice down a bit.  Where's the girl?"
+
+"In her home.  Where did you suppose she would be, after that botchwork
+of letting me go to do one thing while you had in mind another?  And an
+ordinary pair of cutthroats, at that!"
+
+"The thought came to me after you left.  I knew you'd recognize the men
+and understand.  I see no reason why it didn't work."
+
+"It would have been all right if you had consulted a clairvoyant."
+
+"What the deuce do you mean by that?" Braine demanded roughly.
+
+"I mean that then you would have learned your friend the reporter was
+to arrive upon the scene at its most vital moment."
+
+"What, Norton?"
+
+"Yes.  The trouble is with you, you have been so successful all these
+years that you have grown overconfident.  I tell you that there is a
+desperately shrewd man somewhere back of all this.  Mark me, I do not
+believe Hargreave is dead.  He is in hiding.  It may be near by.  He
+may have dropped from the balloon before it left land.  The man they
+picked up may be Orts, the aeronaut.  The five thousand might have been
+his fee for rescuing Hargreave.  Here is the greatest thing we've ever
+been up against; and you start in with every-day methods!"
+
+"Little woman, don't let your tongue run away with you too far."
+
+"I'm not the least bit afraid of you, Leo.  You need me, and it has
+never been more apparent than at this moment."
+
+"All right.  I fell by the wayside this trip.  Truthfully, I realized
+it five minutes after the men were gone.  The only clever thing I did
+was to keep the mask on my face.  They can't come back at me.  But the
+thing looked so easy; and it would have worked but for Norton's
+appearance."
+
+"You all but compromised me.  That butler worries me a little."  Her
+expression lost its anger and grew thoughtful.  "He's always about,
+somewhere.  Do you think Hargreave took him into his confidence?"
+
+"Can't tell.  He's been watched straight for forty hours.  He hasn't
+mailed a letter or telephoned to any place but the grocery.  There have
+been no telegrams.  Some one in that house knows where the money is,
+and it's ten to one that it will be the girl."
+
+"She looks enough like Katrina to be her ghost."
+
+Braine went over to the window and stared up at the stars.
+
+"You have made a good impression on the girl?" with his back still
+toward her.
+
+"I had her in my arms."
+
+"Olga, my hat is off to you," turning, now that his face was again in
+repose.  "Your very frankness regarding your relationship will pull the
+wool over their eyes.  Of course they'll make inquiries and they'll
+find out that you haven't lied.  It's perfect.  Not even that newspaper
+weasel will see anything wrong.  Toward you they will eventually ease
+up and you can act without their even dreaming your part in the
+business.  We must not be seen in public any more.  This butler may
+know where I stand even though he can not prove it.  Now, I'm going to
+tell you something.  Perhaps you've long since guessed it.  Katrina was
+mine till Hargreave--never mind what his name was then--till Hargreave
+came into the fold.  So sure of her was I that I used her as a lure to
+bring him to us.  She fell in love with him, but too late to warn him.
+I had the satisfaction of seeing him cast her aside, curse her, and
+leave her.  In one thing she fooled us all.  I never knew of the child
+till you told me."
+
+He paused to light a cigarette.
+
+"Hargreave was madly in love with her.  He cursed her, but he came back
+to the house to forgive her, to find that she had been seized by the
+secret police and entombed in the fortress.  I had my revenge.  It was
+I who sent in the information, practically bogus.  But in Russia they
+never question; they act and forget.  So he had a daughter!"
+
+He paced the floor, his hands behind his back; the woman watched him,
+oscillating between love and fear.  He came to a halt abruptly and
+looked down at her.
+
+"Don't worry.  You have no rival.  I'll leave the daughter to your
+tender mercies."
+
+"The butler," she said, "has full power of attorney to act for
+Hargreave while absent, up to the day the girl becomes of legal age."
+
+"I'll keep an eye on our friend Jones.  From now on, day and night,
+there will be a cat at the knothole, and 'ware mouse!  Could you make
+up anything like this girl?" suddenly.
+
+"A fair likeness."
+
+"Do it.  Go to the ship which picked up the man at sea and quiz the
+captain.  Either the aviator or Hargreave is alive.  It is important to
+learn which at once.  Be very careful; play the game only as you know
+how to play it.  And if Hargreave is alive, we win.  To-morrow morning,
+early.  Tears of anguish, and all that.  Sailors are easy when a woman
+weeps.  No color, remember; just the yellow wig and the salient
+features.  Now, by-by!"
+
+"Aren't you going to kiss me, Leo?"
+
+He caught her hands.  "There is a species of Delilah about you, Olga.
+A kiss to-night from your lips would snip my locks; and I need a clear
+head.  Whether we fail or win, when this game is played you shall be my
+wife."  He kissed the hands and strode out into the hall.
+
+The woman gazed down at her small white hands and smiled tenderly.
+(The tigress has her tender moments!)  He meant it!
+
+She went into her dressing-room and for an hour or more worked over her
+face and hair, till she was certain that if the captain of the ship
+described her to any one else he could not fail to give a fair
+description of Florence Hargreave.
+
+But Norton reached the captain first.  Other reporters had besieged
+him, but they had succeeded in gathering the vaguest kind of
+information.  They had no description of Hargreave, while Norton had.
+Before going down to the boat, however, he had delved into the past of
+the Countess Olga Perigoff.  It cost him a pocketful of money, but the
+end justified the means.  The countess had no past worth mentioning.
+By piecing this and that together he became assured that she had told
+the simple truth regarding the relationship to Florence's mother.  A
+cablegram had given him all the facts in her history; there were no
+gaps or discrepancies.  It read clear and frank.  Trust a Russian
+secret agent to know what he was talking about.
+
+[Illustration: NORTON REACHED THE CAPTAIN FIRST]
+
+So Norton's suspicions--and he had entertained some--were completely
+lulled to sleep.  And he wouldn't have doubted her at all except for
+the fact that Braine had been with her when he had introduced
+Hargreave.  Hargreave had feared Braine; that much the reporter had
+elicited from the butler.  But there wasn't the slightest evidence.
+Braine had been in New York for nearly six years.  The countess had
+arrived in the city but a year ago.  And Braine was a member of several
+fashionable clubs, never touched cards, and seldom drank.  He was an
+expert chess player and a wonderful amateur billiardist.  Perhaps
+Jones, the taciturn and inscrutable, had not told him all he knew
+regarding his master's past.  Well, well; he had in his time untangled
+worse snarls.  The office had turned him loose, a free lance, to handle
+the case as he saw fit, to turn in the story when it was complete.
+
+But what a story it was going to be when he cleared it up!  The more
+mystifying it was, the greater the zest and sport for him.  Norton was
+like a gambler who played for big stakes, and only big stakes stirred
+his cravings.
+
+The captain of the tramp steamer _Orient_ told him the same tale he had
+told the other reporters: he had picked up a man at sea.  The man had
+been brought aboard totally exhausted.
+
+"Was there another body anywhere?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What became of him?"
+
+"I sent a wireless and that seemed to bother him.  It looked as though
+he did not want anybody to learn that he had been rescued.  The moment
+the boat touched the pier he lost himself in the crowd.  Fifty
+reporters came aboard, but he was gone.  And I could but tell them just
+what I'm telling you."
+
+"He had money."
+
+"About five thousand."
+
+"Please describe him."
+
+The captain did so.  It was the same description he had given to all
+the reporters.  Norton looked over the rail at the big warehouse.
+
+"Was it an ordinary balloon?"
+
+"There you've got me.  My Marconi man says the balloon part was like
+any other balloon; but the passenger car was a new business to him.  It
+could be driven against the wind."
+
+"Driven against the wind.  Did you tell this to the other chaps?"
+
+"Don't think I did.  Just remembered it.  Probably some new invention;
+and now it's at the bottom of the sea.  Two men, as I understand, went
+off in this contraption.  One is gone for good."
+
+"For good," echoed the reporter gravely.  "Gone for good, indeed, poor
+devil!"
+
+Norton took out a roll of bills.  "There's two hundred in this roll."
+
+"Well?" said the captain, vastly astonished.
+
+"It's yours if you will do me a small favor."
+
+"If it doesn't get me mixed up with the police.  I'm only captain of a
+tramp; and some of the harbor police have taken a dislike to me.  What
+do you want me to do?"
+
+"The police will not bother you.  This man Hargreave had some enemies;
+they want either his life or his money; maybe both.  It's a peculiar
+case, with Russia in the background.  He might have laid the whole
+business before the police, but he chose to fight it out himself.  And
+to tell the truth, I don't believe the police would have done any good."
+
+"Heave her over; what do you want me to do for that handsome roll of
+money?"
+
+"If any man or woman who is not a reporter comes to pump you tell them
+the man went ashore with a packet under his arm."
+
+"Tie a knot in that."
+
+"Say the man was gray-haired, clean-shaven, straight, with a scar high
+up on his forehead, generally covered up by his hair."
+
+"That's battened down, my lad.  Go on."
+
+"Say that you saw him enter yonder warehouse, and later depart without
+his packet."
+
+"Easy as dropping my mudhook."
+
+"That's all."  Norton gave the captain the money.  "Good-by and many
+thanks."
+
+"Don't mention it."
+
+Norton left the slip and proceeded to the office of the warehouse.  He
+approached the manager's desk.
+
+"Hello, Grannis, old top!"
+
+The man looked up from his work surlily.  Then his face brightened.
+
+"Norton?  What's brought you here?  Oh, yes; that balloon business.
+Sit down."
+
+"What kind of a man is the captain of that old hooker in the slip?"
+
+"Shifty in gun running, but otherwise as square as a die.  Looks funny
+to see an old tub like that fixed up with wireless; but that has saved
+his neck a dozen times when he was running it into a noose.  Not going
+to interview me, are you?"
+
+"No.  I'm going to ask you to do me a little favor."
+
+"They always say that.  But spin her out.  If it doesn't cost me my
+job, it's yours."
+
+"Well, there will be a person making inquiries about the mysterious
+aeronaut.  All I want you to say is, that he left a packet with you,
+that you've put it in that safe till he calls to claim it."
+
+Grannis nibbled the end of his pen.  "Suppose some one should come and
+demand that I open the safe and deliver?"
+
+"All you've got to do is to tell them to show the receipt signed by
+you."
+
+The warehouse manager laughed.  "Got a lot of sense in that ivory dome
+of yours.  All right.  But if anything happens you've got to come
+around and back me up.  What's it about?"
+
+"That I dare not tell you.  This much, I'm laying a trap and I want
+some one I don't know to fall into it."
+
+"On your way, James.  But if you don't send me some prize fight tickets
+next week for this, I'll never do you another favor."
+
+In reply Norton took from his pocket two bits of pasteboard and laid
+them on the desk.  "I knew you'd be wanting something like this."
+
+"Ringside!" cried Grannis.  "You reporters are lucky devils!"
+
+"I'd go myself if there was any earthly chance of a real scrap.  You
+make me laugh, Gran.  You're always going, always hoping the next one
+will be a real one.  But it's all bunk.  The pugs are the biggest
+fakers on top of the sod.  They've got us newspaper men done to a
+frazzle."
+
+"I guess you're right.  Well, count on me regarding that mysterious
+bundle in the safe."
+
+"At three o'clock this afternoon I want you to call me up.  If no one
+has called, why the game is up.  But if some one does come around and
+make inquiries, don't fail to let me know."
+
+"I'll be here till five.  I'd better call you up then."
+
+Then Norton returned home and idled about till afternoon.  He went over
+to Riverdale.  Five times he walked up and down in front of the
+Hargreave place, finally plucked up his courage and walked to the door.
+After all, he was a lucky mortal.  He had a good excuse to visit this
+house every day in the week.  And there was something tantalizing in
+the risk he took.  Besides, he wanted to prove to himself whether it
+was a passing fancy or something deeper.  That's the way with humans;
+we never see a sign "Fresh Paint" that we don't have to prove it.
+
+He chatted with Florence for a while and found that, for all she might
+be guileless to the world, she was a good linguist, a fine musician,
+and talked with remarkable keenness about books and arts.  But unless
+he roused her, the sadness of her position always lay written in her
+face.  It was not difficult for him to conjure up her dreams in coming
+to the city and the blow which, like a bolt of lightning from a clear
+sky, had shattered them ruthlessly.
+
+"You must come every day and tell me how you have progressed," she said.
+
+"I'll obey that order gladly, whenever I can possibly do it.  My visits
+will always be short."
+
+"That is not necessary."
+
+"No," said Norton in his heart, "but it is wise."
+
+Always he found Jones waiting for him at the door, always in the shadow.
+
+"Well?" the butler whispered.
+
+"I have laid a neat trap.  Whether this balloon was the one that left
+the top of this house I don't know.  But if there were two men in it,
+one of them lies at the bottom of the sea."
+
+"And the man who was found?"  The butler's voice was tense.
+
+"It was not Hargreave.  I met Orts but once, and as he wore a beard
+then, the captain's description did not tally with your recollection."
+
+"Thank God!  But what is this trap?"
+
+"I propose to find out by it who is back of all this, who Hargreave's
+real enemies are."
+
+Norton returned to his rooms, there to await the call from Grannis.  He
+was sorry, but if Jones would not take him into his fullest confidence,
+he must hold himself to blame for any blunder he (Norton) made.  Of
+course, he could readily understand Jones' angle of vision.  He knew
+nothing of the general run of reporters; he had heard of them by rumor
+and distrusted them.  He was not aware of the fact that the average
+reporter carries more secrets in his head than a prime minister.  It
+was, then, up to him to set about to allay this distrust and gain the
+man's complete confidence.
+
+Meanwhile that same morning a pretty young woman boarded the _Orient_
+and asked to be led to the captain.  Her eyes were red; she had
+evidently been weeping.  When the captain, susceptible like all
+sailors, saw her his promises to Norton took wings.
+
+"This is Captain Hagan?" she asked, balling the handkerchief she held
+in her hand.
+
+"Yes, miss.  What can I do for you?"  He put his hands embarrassedly
+into his pockets--and felt the crisp bills.  But for that magic touch
+he would have forgotten his lines.  He squared his shoulders.
+
+"I have every assurance that the man you picked up at sea is my father.
+I am Florence Hargreave.  Tell me everything."
+
+The captain's very blundering deceived her.  "And then he hustled down
+the gangplank and headed for that warehouse.  He had a package which he
+was as tender of as if it had been dynamite."
+
+"Thank you!" impulsively.
+
+"A man has to do his duty, miss.  A sailor's always glad to rescue a
+man at sea," awkwardly.
+
+When she finally went down the gangplank the sigh the captain heaved
+was almost as loud as the exhaust from the donkey engines which were
+working out the crates of lemons from the hold.
+
+"Maybe she is his daughter; but two hundred is two hundred, and I'm a
+poor sailor man."
+
+Then Grannis came in for his troubles.  What was a chap to do when a
+pretty girl appealed to him?
+
+"I am sorry, miss, but I can't give you that package.  I gave the man a
+receipt and till it is presented to me the package must remain in
+yonder safe.  You understand enough about the business to realize that.
+I did not solicit the job.  It was thrust upon me.  I'd give a hundred
+dollars if the blame thing was out of my safe.  You say it is your
+fortune.  That hasn't been proved.  It may be gunpowder, dynamite.  I'm
+sorry, but you will have to find your father and bring the receipt."
+
+The young woman left the warehouse, dabbing her eyes with the sodden
+handkerchief.
+
+"I wonder," mused Grannis, as he watched her from the window, "I wonder
+what the deuce that chap Norton is up to.  The girl might have been the
+man's daughter....  Good lord, what an ass I am!  There wasn't any
+man!" And so he reached over for the telephone.
+
+Immediately upon receipt of the message the reporter set his machinery
+in motion.  Some time before dawn he would know who the
+arch-conspirator was.  He questioned Grannis thoroughly, and Grannis'
+description tallied amazingly with that of Florence Hargreave.  But a
+call over the wire proved to him conclusively that Florence had not
+been out of the house that morning.
+
+On the morrow the newspapers had scare heads about an attempt to rob
+the Duffy warehouse.  It appeared that the police had been tipped
+beforehand and were on the grounds in time to gather in several
+notorious gunmen, who, under pressure of the third degree, vowed that
+they had been hired and paid by a man in a mask and had not the
+slightest idea what he wanted them to raid.  Nothing further could be
+got out of the gunmen.  That they were lying the police had no doubt,
+but they were up against a stout wall and all they could do was to hold
+the men for the grand jury.
+
+Norton was in a fine temper.  After all his careful planning he had
+gained nothing--absolutely nothing.  But wait; he had gained
+something--the bitter enmity of a cunning and desperate man, who had
+been forced to remain hidden under the pier till almost dawn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Braine crawled from his uncomfortable hiding place.  His clothes were
+soiled and damp, his hat was gone.  By a hair's breadth he had escaped
+the clever trap laid for him.  Hargreave was alive, he had escaped;
+Braine was as certain of this fact as he was of his own breathing.  He
+now knew how to account for the flickering light in the upper story of
+the warehouse.  His ancient enemy had been watching him all the time.
+More than this, Hargreave and the meddling reporter were in collusion.
+In the flare of lights at the end of the gun-play he had caught the
+profile of the reporter.  Here was a dangerous man, who must be watched
+with the utmost care.
+
+He, Braine, had been lured to commit an overt act, and by the rarest
+good luck had escaped with nothing more serious than a cold chill and a
+galling disappointment.
+
+He crawled along the top of the pier, listening, sending his
+dark-accustomed glance hither and thither.  The sky in the east was
+growing paler and paler.  In and out among the bales of wool, bags of
+coffee and lemon crates he slowly and cautiously wormed his way.  A
+watchman patrolled the office side of the warehouse, and Braine found
+it possible to creep around the other way, thence into the street.
+After that he straightened up, sought a second-hand shop and purchased
+a soft hat, which he pulled down over his eyes.
+
+He had half a dozen rooms which he always kept in readiness for such
+adventures as this.  He rented them furnished in small hotels which
+never asked questions of their patrons.  To one of these he went as
+fast as his weary legs could carry him.  He always carried the key.
+Once in his room he donned fresh wearing apparel, linen, shoes, and
+shaved.  Then he proceeded down-stairs, the second-hand hat shading his
+eyes and the upper part of his face.
+
+At half past twelve Norton entered the Knickerbocker cafe-restaurant,
+and the first person he noticed was Braine, reading the morning's
+paper, propped up against the water carafe.  Evidently he had just
+ordered, for there was nothing on his plate.  Norton walked over and
+laid his hand upon Braine's shoulder.  The man looked up with mild
+curiosity.
+
+"Why, Norton, sit down, sit down!  Have you had lunch?  No?  Join me."
+
+"Thanks.  Came in for my breakfast," said Norton, drawing out the
+chair.  Braine was sitting with his back to the wall on the lounge-seat.
+
+"I wonder if you newspaper men ever eat a real, true enough breakfast.
+I should think the hours you lead would kill you off.  Anything new on
+the Hargreave story?"
+
+"I'm not handling that," the reporter lied cheerfully.  "Didn't want
+to.  I knew him rather intimately.  I've a horror of dead people, and
+don't want to be called upon to identify the body when they find it."
+
+"Then you think they will find it?"
+
+"I don't know.  It's a strange mixup.  I'm not on the story, mind you;
+but I was in the locality of Duffy's warehouse late last night and fell
+into a gunman rumpus."
+
+"Yes, I read about that.  What were they after?"
+
+"You've got me there.  No one seems to know.  Some cock and bull story
+about there being something valuable.  There was."
+
+"What was it?  The report in this paper does not say."
+
+"Ten thousand bags of coffee."
+
+Braine lay back in his chair and laughed.
+
+"If you want my opinion," said Norton, "I believe the gunmen were out
+to shoot up another gang, and the police got wind of it."
+
+"Don't you think it about time the police called a halt in this gunman
+matter?"
+
+"Oh, so long as they pot each other the police look the other way.  It
+saves a long trial and passage up the river.  Besides, when they are
+nabbed some big politician manages to open the door for them.  Great is
+the American voter."
+
+"Take Mr. Norton's order, Luigi," said Braine.
+
+"A German pancake, buttered toast and coffee," ordered the reporter.
+
+"Man, eat something!"
+
+"It's enough for me."
+
+"And you'll go all the rest of the day on tobacco.  I know something of
+you chaps.  I don't see how you manage to do it."
+
+"Food is the least of our troubles.  By the way, may I ask you a few
+questions?  Nothing for print, unless you've got a new book coming."
+
+"Fire away."
+
+"What do you know about the Countess Perigoff?"
+
+"Let me see.  H'm.  Met her first about a year ago at a reception given
+to Nasimova.  A very attractive woman.  I see quite a lot of her.  Why?"
+
+"Well, she claims to be a sort of aunt to Hargreave's daughter."
+
+"She said something to me about that the other night.  You never know
+where you're at in this world, do you?"
+
+The German pancake, the toast, the coffee disappeared, and the reporter
+passed his cigars.
+
+"The president visits town to-day and I'm off to watch the show.  I
+suppose I'll have to interview him about the tariff and all that rot.
+When you start on a new book let me know and I'll be your press agent."
+
+"That's a bargain."
+
+"Thanks for the breakfast."
+
+Braine picked up his newspaper, smoked and read.  He smoked, yes, but
+he only pretended to read.  The young fool was clever, but no man is
+infallible.  He had not the least suspicion; he saw only the newspaper
+story.  Still, in some manner he might stumble upon the truth, and it
+would be just as well to tie the reporter's hands effectually.
+
+The rancor of early morning had been subdued; anger and quick temper
+never paid in the long run, and no one appreciated this fact better
+than Braine.  To put Norton out of the way temporarily was only a wise
+precaution; it was not a matter of spite or reprisal.
+
+He paid the reckoning, left the restaurant, and dropped into one of his
+clubs for a game of billiards.  He drew quite a gallery about the
+table.  He won easily, racked his cue and sought the apartments of the
+countess.
+
+What a piece of luck it was that Olga had really married that old
+dotard, Perigoff!  He had left her a titled widow six months after her
+marriage.  But she had had hardly a kopeck to call her own.
+
+"Olga, Hargreave is alive.  He was there last night.  But somehow he
+anticipated the raid and had the police in waiting.  The question is,
+has he fooled us?  Did he take that million or did he hide it?  There
+is one thing left--to get that girl.  No matter where Hargreave is
+hidden, the knowledge that she is in my hands will bring him out into
+the open."
+
+"No more blind alleys."
+
+"What's on your mind?"
+
+"She has never seen her father.  She confessed to me that she has not
+even seen a photograph of him."
+
+There was a long pause.
+
+"Do you understand me?" she asked.
+
+"By the Lord Harry, I do!  You've a head on you worth two of mine.  The
+very simplicity of the idea will win out for us.  Some one to pose as
+her father; a message handed to her in secret; dire misfortune if she
+whispers a word to any one; that her father's life hangs upon the
+secrecy; she must confide in no one, least of all Jones, the butler.
+It all depends upon how the letter gets to her.  Bred in the country,
+she probably sleeps with her window open.  A pebble attached to a note,
+tossed into the window.  I'll trust this to no one; I'll do it myself.
+With the girl in our control the rest will be easy.  If she really does
+not know where the money is Hargreave will tell us.  Great head, little
+woman, great head.  She does not know her father's handwriting?"
+
+"She has never seen a scrap of it.  Miss Farlow never showed her the
+registered letters.  The original note left on the doorstep with
+Florence has been lost.  Trust me to make all these inquiries."
+
+"To-morrow night, then, immediately after dinner, a taxicab will await
+her just around the corner.  Grange is the best man I can think of.
+He's an artist when it comes to playing the old-man parts."
+
+"Not too old, remember.  Hargreave isn't over forty-five."
+
+"Another good point.  I'm going to stretch out here on the divan and
+snooze for a while.  Had a devil of a time last night."
+
+"When shall I wake you?"
+
+"At six.  We'll have an early dinner sent in.  I want to keep out of
+everybody's way.  By-by!"
+
+In less than three minutes he was sound asleep.  The woman gazed down
+at him in wonder and envy.  If only she could drop to sleep like that.
+Very softly she pressed her lips to his hair.
+
+At eleven o'clock the following night the hall light in the Hargreave
+house was turned off and the whole interior became dark.  A shadow
+crept through the lilac bushes without any more sound than a cat would
+have made.  Florence's window was open as the arch-conspirator had
+expected it would be.  With a small string and stone as a sling he sent
+the letter whirling skilfully through the air.  It sailed into the
+girl's room.  The man below heard no sound of the stone hitting
+anything and concluded that it had struck the bed.
+
+He waited patiently.  Presently a wavering light could be distinguished
+over the sill of the window.  The girl was awake and had lit the
+candle.  This knowledge was sufficient for his need.  The tragic letter
+would do the rest, that is, if the girl came from the same pattern as
+her father and mother--strong-willed and adventurous.
+
+He tiptoed back to the lilacs, when a noise sent him close to the
+ground.  Half a dozen feet away he saw a shadow creeping along toward
+the front door.  Presently the shadow stood up as if listening.  He
+stooped again and ran lightly to the steps, up these to the door, which
+he hugged.
+
+Who was this? wondered Braine.  Patiently he waited, arranging his
+posture so that he could keep a lookout at the door.  By and by the
+door opened cautiously.  A man holding a candle appeared.  Braine
+vaguely recognized Olga's description of the butler.  The man on the
+veranda suddenly blew out the light.
+
+Braine could hear the low murmur of voices, but nothing more.  The
+conversation lasted scarcely a minute.  The door closed and the man,
+ran down the steps, across the lawn, with Braine close at his heels.
+
+"Just a moment, Mr. Hargreave," he called ironically; "just a moment!"
+
+The man he addressed as Hargreave turned with lightning rapidity and
+struck.  The blow caught Braine above the ear, knocking him flat.  When
+he regained his feet the rumble of a motor told him the rest of the
+story.
+
+
+By the dim light of her bedroom candle Florence read the note which had
+found entrance so strangely and mysteriously into her room.  Her
+father!  He lived, he needed her!  Alive, but in dread peril, and only
+she could save him!  She longed to fly to him at once, then and there.
+How could she wait till to-morrow night at eight?  Immediately she
+began to plan how to circumvent the watchful Jones and the careful
+Susan.  Her father!  She slept no more that night.
+
+
+"My Darling Daughter: I must see you.  Come at eight o'clock to-morrow
+night to 78 Grove Street, third floor.  Confide in no one, or you seal
+my death warrant.
+
+"Your unhappy
+    "FATHER."
+
+
+What child would refuse to obey a summons like this?
+
+A light tap on the door startled her.
+
+"Is anything the matter?" asked the mild voice of Jones.
+
+"No.  I got up to get a drink of water."
+
+She heard his footsteps die away down the corridor.  She thrust the
+letter into the pocket of her dress, which lay neatly folded on the
+chair at the foot of the bed, then climbed back into the bed itself.
+She must not tell even Mr. Norton.
+
+Was the child spinning a romance over the first young man she had ever
+met?  In her heart of hearts the girl did not know.
+
+Her father!
+
+It was all so terribly and tragically simple, to match a woman's mind
+against that of a child.  Both Norton and the sober Jones had
+explicitly warned her never to go anywhere, receive telephone calls or
+letters, without first consulting one or the other of them.  And now
+she had planned to deceive them, with all the cunning of her sex.
+
+The next morning at breakfast there was nothing unusual either in her
+appearance or manners.  Under the shrewd scrutiny of Jones she was just
+her every-day self, a fine bit of acting for one who had yet to see the
+stage.  But it is born in woman to act, as it is born in man to fight,
+and Florence was no exception to the rule.
+
+She was going to save her father.
+
+She read with Susan, played the piano, sewed a little, laughed, hummed
+and did a thousand and one things young girls do when they have the
+deception of their elders in view.
+
+[Illustration: SHE READ WITH SUSAN...]
+
+All day long Jones went about like an old hound with his nose to the
+wind.  There was something in the air, but he could not tell what it
+was.  Somehow or other, no matter which room Florence went into, there
+was Jones within earshot.  And she dared not show the least impatience
+or restiveness.  It was a large order for so young a girl, but she
+filled it.
+
+She rather expected that the reporter would appear some time during the
+afternoon; and sure enough he did.  He could no more resist the desire
+to see and talk to her than he could resist breathing.  There was no
+use denying it; the world had suddenly turned at a new angle,
+presenting a new face, a roseate vision.  It rather subdued his easy
+banter.
+
+"What news?" she asked.
+
+"None," rather despondingly.  "I'm sorry.  I had hoped by this time to
+get somewhere.  But it happens that I can't get any farther than this
+house."
+
+She did not ask him what he meant by that.
+
+"Shall I play something for you?" she said.
+
+"Please."
+
+He drew a chair beside the piano and watched her fingers, white as the
+ivory keys, flutter up and down the board.  She played Chopin for him,
+Mendelssohn, Grieg and Chaminade; and she played them in a surprisingly
+scholarly fashion.  He had expected the usual schoolgirl choice and
+execution; _Titania_, the _Moonlight Sonata_ (which not half a dozen
+great pianists have ever played correctly), _Monastery Bells_, and the
+like.  He had prepared to make a martyr of himself; instead, he was
+distinctly and delightfully entertained.
+
+"You don't," he said whimsically, when she finally stopped, "you don't,
+by any chance, know _The Maiden's Prayer_?"
+
+She laughed.  This piece was a standing joke at school.
+
+"I have never played it.  It may, however, be in the cabinet.  Would
+you like to hear it?" mischievously.
+
+"Heaven forfend!" he murmured, raising his hands.
+
+All the while the letter burned against her heart, and the smile on her
+face and the gaiety on her tongue were forced.  "Confide in no one,"
+she repeated mentally, "or you seal my death warrant."
+
+"Why do you shake your head like that?" he asked.
+
+"Did I shake my head?"  Her heart fluttered wildly.  "I was not
+conscious of it."
+
+"Are you going to keep your promise?"
+
+"What promise?"
+
+"Never to leave this house without Jones or myself being with you."
+
+"I couldn't if I wanted to.  I'll wager Jones is out there in the hall
+this minute.  I know; it is all for my sake.  But it bothers me."
+
+Jones was indeed in the hall, and when he sensed the petulance in her
+voice his shoulders sank despondently and he sighed deeply if silently.
+
+At a quarter to eight Florence, being alone for a minute, set fire to a
+veil and stuffed it down the register.
+
+"Jones," she called excitedly, "I smell something burning!"
+
+Jones dashed into the room, sniffed, and dashed out again, heading for
+the cellar door.  His first thought was naturally that the devils
+incarnate had set fire to the house.  When he returned, having, of
+course, discovered no fire, he found Florence gone.  He rushed into the
+hall.  Her hat was missing.  He made for the hall door with a speed
+which seemed incredible to the bewildered Susan's eyes.  Out into the
+street, up and down which he looked.  Far away he discovered a
+dwindling taxicab.  The child was gone.
+
+In the house Susan was answering the telephone, talking incoherently.
+
+"Who is it?" Jones whispered, his lips white and dry.
+
+[Illustration: "WHO IS IT?" WHISPERED JONES, HIS LIPS WHITE AND DRY]
+
+"The countess...." began Susan.
+
+He took the receiver from her roughly.
+
+"Hello, who is it?"
+
+"This is Olga Perigoff.  Is Florence there?"
+
+"No, madam.  She has just stepped out for a moment.  Shall I tell her
+to call you when she returns?"
+
+"Yes, please.  I want her and Susan and Mr. Norton to come to tea
+to-morrow.  Good-by."
+
+Jones hung up the receiver, sank into a chair near by and buried his
+face in his hands.
+
+"What is it?" cried Susan, terrified by the haggardness of his face.
+
+"She's gone!  My God, those wretches have got her!  They've got her!"
+
+Florence was whirled away at top speed.  Her father!  She was actually
+on the way to her father, whom she had always loved in dreams, yet
+never seen.
+
+Number 78 Grove Street was not an attractive place, but when she
+arrived she was too highly keyed to take note of its sordidness.  She
+was rather out of breath when she reached the door of the third flat.
+She knocked timidly.  The door was instantly opened by a man who wore a
+black mask.  She would have turned then and there and flown but for the
+swift picture she had of a well-dressed man at a table.  He lay with
+his head upon his arms.
+
+"Father!" she whispered.
+
+The man raised his careworn face, so very well done that only the
+closest scrutiny would have betrayed the paste of the theater.  He
+arose and staggered toward her with outstretched arms.  But the moment
+they closed about her Florence experienced a peculiar shiver.
+
+"My child!" murmured the broken man.  "They caught me when I was about
+to come to you.  I have given up the fight."
+
+A sob choked him.
+
+What was it? wondered the child, her heart burning with the misery of
+the thought that she was sad instead of glad.  Over his shoulder she
+sent a glance about the room.  There was a sofa, a table, some chairs
+and an enormous clock, the face of which was dented and the hands
+hopelessly tangled.  Why, at such a moment, she should note such
+details disturbed her.  Then she chanced to look into the cracked
+mirror.  In it she saw several faces, all masked.  These men were
+peering at her through the half-closed door behind her.
+
+"You must return home and bring me the money," went on the wretch who
+dared to perpetrate such a mockery.  "It is all that stands between me
+and death."
+
+Then she knew!  The insistent daily warnings came home to her.  She
+understood now.  She had deliberately walked into the spider's net.
+But instead of terror an extraordinary calm fell upon her.
+
+"Very well, father, I will go and get it."  Gently she released herself
+from those horrible arms.
+
+"Wait, my child, till I see if they will let you go.  They may wish to
+hold you as hostage."
+
+When he was gone she tried the doors.  They were locked.  Then she
+crossed over to the window and looked out.  A leap from there would
+kill her.  She turned her gaze toward the lamp, wondering.
+
+The false father returned, dejectedly.
+
+"It is as I said.  They insist upon sending some one.  Write down the
+directions I gave to you.  I am very weak!"
+
+"Write down the directions yourself, father; you know them better than
+I."  Since she saw no escape, she was determined to keep up the tragic
+farce no longer.
+
+"I am not your father."
+
+"So I see," she replied, still with the amazing calm.
+
+Braine, in the other room, shook his head savagely.  Father and
+daughter; the same steel in the nerves.  Could they bend her?  Would
+they break her?  He did not wish to injure her bodily, but a million
+was always a million, and there was revenge which was worth more to him
+than the money itself.  He listened, motioning to the others to be
+silent.
+
+"Write the directions," commanded the scoundrel, who discarded the
+broken-man style.
+
+"I know of no hidden money."
+
+"Then your father dies this night."  Grange put a whistle to his lips.
+"Sign, write!"
+
+"I refuse!"
+
+"Once more.  The moment I blow this whistle the men in the other room
+will understand that your father is to die.  Be wise.  Money is
+nothing--life is everything."
+
+"I refuse!"  Even as she had known this vile creature to be an impostor
+so she knew that he lied, that her father was still free.
+
+Grange blew the whistle.  Instantly the room became filled with masked
+men.  But Florence was ready.  She seized the lamp and hurled it to the
+floor, quite indifferent whether it exploded or went out.  Happily for
+her, it was extinguished.  At the same moment she cast the lamp she
+caught hold of a chair, remembering the direction of the window.  She
+was superhumanly strong in this moment.  The chair went true.  A crash
+followed.
+
+"She has thrown herself out of the window!" yelled a voice.
+
+Some one groped for the lamp, lit it and turned in time to see Florence
+pass out of the room into that from which they had come.  The door
+slammed.  The surprised men heard the key click.
+
+She was free.  But she was no longer a child.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+"Gone!"
+
+Jones kept saying to himself that he must strive to be calm, to think,
+think.  Despite all his warnings, the warnings of Norton, she had
+tricked them and run away.  It was maddening.  He wanted to rave, tear
+his hair, break things.  He tramped the hall.  It would be wasting time
+to send for the police.  They would only putter about fruitlessly.  The
+Black Hundred knew how to arrange these abductions.
+
+How had they succeeded in doing it?  No one had entered the house that
+day without his being present.  There had been no telephone call he had
+not heard the gist of, nor any letters he had not first glanced over.
+How had they done it?  Suddenly into his mind flashed the remembrance
+of the candle-light under Florence's door the night before.  In a dozen
+bounds he was in her room, searching drawers, paper boxes, baskets.  He
+found nothing.  He returned in despair to Susan, who, during all this
+turmoil, had sat as if frozen in her chair.
+
+"Speak!" he cried.  "For God's sake, say something, think something!
+Those devils are likely to torture her, hurt, her!"  He leaned against
+the wall, his head on his arm.
+
+When he turned again he was calm.  He walked with bent head toward the
+door, opened it and stood upon the threshold for a space.  Across the
+street a shadow stirred, but Jones did not see it.  His gaze was
+attracted by something which shone dimly white on the walk just beyond
+the steps.  He ran to it.  A crumpled letter, unaddressed.  He carried
+it back to the house, smoothed it out and read, its contents.  Florence
+in her haste had dropped the letter.
+
+He clutched at his hat, put it on and ran to Susan.
+
+"Here!" he cried, holding out an automatic.  "If any one comes in that
+you don't know, shoot!  Don't ask questions, shoot!"
+
+"I'm afraid!"  She breathed with difficulty.
+
+"Afraid?" he roared at her.  He put the weapon in her hand.  It slipped
+and thudded to the floor.  He stooped for it and slammed it into her
+lap.  "You love your life and honor.  You'll know how to shoot when the
+time comes.  Now, attend to me.  If I'm not back here by ten o'clock,
+turn this note over to the police.  If you can't do that, then God help
+us all!"  And with that he ran from the house.
+
+Susan eyed the revolver with growing terror.  For what had she left the
+peace and quiet of Miss Farlow's; assassination, robbery, thieves and
+kidnapers?  She wanted to shriek, but her throat was as dry as paper.
+Gingerly she touched the pistol.  The cold steel sent a thrill of fear
+over her.  He hadn't told her how to shoot it!
+
+Two blocks down the street, up an alley, was the garage wherein
+Hargreave had been wont to keep his car.  Toward this Jones ran with
+the speed of a track athlete.  There might be half a dozen taxicabs
+about, but he would not run the risk of engaging any of them.  The
+Black Hundred was capable of anticipating his every movement.
+
+The shadow across the street stood undecided.  At length he concluded
+to give Jones ten minutes in which to return.  If he did not return in
+that time, the watcher would go up to the drug store and telephone for
+instructions.
+
+But Jones did not come back.
+
+"Where's Howard?" he demanded.
+
+"Hello, Jones; what's up?"
+
+"Howard, get that car out at once."
+
+"Out she comes.  Wait till I give her radiator a bucket of water.
+Gee!" whispered Howard, whom Hargreave often used as his chauffeur,
+"get on to his nibs!  First time I ever saw him awake.  I wonder what's
+doing?  You never know what's back of those mummy-faced head
+waiters....  All right, Jones!"
+
+The chauffeur jumped into the car and Jones took the seat beside him.
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"Number 78..." and the rest of it trailed away, smothered in the
+violent thunder of the big six's engines.
+
+During the car's flight several policemen hailed it without success.
+Down this street, up that, round this corner, fifty miles an hour; and
+all the while Jones shouted: "Faster, faster!"
+
+Within twelve minutes from the time it left the garage, the car stopped
+opposite 78 Grove Street, and Jones got out.
+
+"Wait here, Howard.  If several men come rushing out, or I don't appear
+within ten minutes, fire your gun a couple of times for the police.  I
+don't want them if we can manage without.  They'd only bungle."
+
+"All right, Mr. Jones," said the chauffeur.  He had, in the past
+quarter of an hour, acquired a deep and lasting respect for the butler
+chap.  He was a regular fellow, for all his brass buttons.
+
+As Jones reached the curb, Florence came forth as if on invisible
+wings.  Jones caught her by the arm.  She flung him aside with a
+strength he had not dreamed existed in her slim body.
+
+"Florence, I am Jones!"
+
+She stopped, recognized him, and without a word ran across the street
+to the automobile and climbed into the tonneau.  Jones followed
+immediately.
+
+"Home!"
+
+The car shot up the dimly lighted street, shone palely for a second
+under the corner lamp, and vanished.
+
+"Ah, child, child!" groaned the man at her side, all the tenseness gone
+from his body.  He was Jones again.
+
+Still she did not speak, but stared ahead with unseeing eyes.
+
+No further reproach fell from the butler's lips.  It was enough that
+God had guided him to her at the appointed moment.  He felt assured
+that never again would she be drawn into any trap.  Poor child!  What
+had they said to her, done to her?  How, in God's name, had she escaped
+from them who never let anybody escape?  Presently she would become
+normal, and then she would tell him.
+
+"I found the lying note.  You dropped it."
+
+"Horrible, horrible!" she said almost inaudibly.
+
+"What did they do to you?"
+
+"He said he was my father....  He put his arms around me....  And I
+knew!"
+
+"Knew what?"
+
+"That he lied.  I can't explain."
+
+"Don't try!"
+
+Suddenly she laid her head against the butler's shoulder and cried.  It
+was terrible to hear youth weep in this fashion.  Jones put his arm
+about her and tried to console her.
+
+"Horrible!" she murmured between the violent hiccoughs.  "I was wrong,
+wrong!  Forgive me!"
+
+Unconsciously the arm sustaining her drew her closer.
+
+"Never mind," he consoled.  "Tell no one what has happened.  Go about
+as usual.  Don't let even Susan know.  Whatever your poor father did
+was for your sake.  He wanted you to be happy, without a care in the
+world."
+
+"I promise."  And gradually the sobs ceased.  "But I feel so old,
+Jones, so very old.  I threw over the lamp.  I threw a chair through
+the window.  They thought that it was I who had jumped out.  That gave
+me the necessary time.  I don't understand how I did it.  I wasn't
+frightened at all till I gained the street."
+
+They found Susan still seated in the chair, the automatic in her lap.
+She had not moved in all this time!
+
+
+Braine paced the apartment of the Countess Perigoff.  From the living
+room to the boudoir and back, fully twenty times.  From the divan Olga
+watched him nervously.  He was like a tiger, fresh in captivity.  All
+at once he paused in front of her.
+
+"Do you realize what that mere chit did?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Planned to the minute.  We had her; seven of us; doors locked, and all
+that.  No weeping, no wailing; I could not understand then, but I do
+now.  It's in the blood.  Hargreave was as peaceful as a St. Bernard
+dog till you cornered him, and then he was a lion.  Oh, the devil!
+Slipped out of our fingers like an eel.  And across the street, Jones
+in a racer!  I never paid any particular attention to Jones, but from
+now on I shall.  The girl may or may not know where the money is, but
+Jones does, Jones does!  Two men shall watch.  Felton on the street and
+Orloff from the windows of the deserted house.  With opera glasses he
+will be able to take note of all that happens in the house during the
+day.  He will be able to see the girl's room.  And that's the important
+point.  It was a good plan, little woman; and it would have been plain
+sailing if only we had remembered that the girl was Hargreave's
+daughter.  Be very careful hereafter when you call on her.  A night
+like this will have made her suspicious of every one.  Our hope lies
+with you.  Anything on your mind?"
+
+"Yes.  Why not insert a personal in the _Herald_?"  She drew some
+writing paper toward her and scribbled a few words.
+
+He read: "Florence--the hiding place is discovered.  Remove it to a
+more secret spot at once.  S.H."--He laughed and shook his head.  "I'm
+afraid that will never do."
+
+[Illustration: HE READ ... FLORENCE ... THE HIDING-PLACE IS DISCOVERED]
+
+"If she reads it, Jones will.  The man with the opera glasses may see
+something.  There's a chance Jones might become worried."
+
+"Well, we'll give it a chance."
+
+It was midnight when he made his departure.  As he stepped into the
+street, he glanced about cautiously.  On the corner he saw a policeman
+swinging his night stick.  Otherwise the street was deserted.  Braine
+proceeded jauntily down the street.
+
+And yet, from the darkened doors of the house across the way, the
+figure of a man emerged and stood contemplating the windows of the
+Perigoff apartment.  Suddenly the lights went out.  The watcher made no
+effort to follow Braine.  The knowledge he was after did not
+necessitate any such procedure.
+
+Of course, Florence read the "personal."  She took the newspaper at
+once to Jones, who smiled grimly.
+
+"You see, I trust you."
+
+"And so long as you continue to trust me no harm will befall you.  You
+were left in my care by your father.  I am to guard you at the expense
+of my life.  Last night's affair was a miracle.  The next time you will
+not find it so easy to escape."
+
+Nor did she.
+
+"There will be no next time," gravely.  "But I am going to ask you a
+direct question.  Is my father alive?"
+
+The butler's brow puckered.  "I have promised to say nothing, one way
+or the other."
+
+She laughed.
+
+"Why do you laugh?"
+
+"I laugh because if he were dead there would be no earthly reason for
+your not saying so at once.  But I hate money, the name of it, the
+sound of it, the sight of it.  It is at the bottom of all wars and
+crimes.  I despise it!"
+
+"The root of all evil.  Yet it performs many noble deeds.  But never
+mind the money.  Let us give our attention to this personal.  Doubtless
+it originated in the same mind which conceived the letter.  Your father
+would never have inserted such a personal.  What!  Give his enemies a
+chance to learn his secret?  No.  On the other hand, I want you to show
+this personal to all you meet to-day, Susan, the reporter, to
+everybody.  Talk about it.  Say that you wonder what you shall do.
+Trust no one with your real thoughts."
+
+"Not even you, Mr. Jones," thought the girl as she nodded.
+
+"And tell them that you showed it to me and that I appeared worried."
+
+That night there was a meeting of the organization called the Black
+Hundred.  Braine asked if any one knew what the Hargreave butler looked
+like.
+
+[Illustration: THAT NIGHT THERE WAS A MEETING OF THE ORGANIZATION]
+
+"I had a glimpse of him the other night; but being unprepared, I might
+not recognize him again."
+
+Vroon described Jones minutely.  Braine could almost see the portrait.
+
+"Vroon, that memory of yours is worth a lot of money," was his only
+comment.
+
+"I hope it will be worth more soon."
+
+"I believe I'll be able to recognize Mr. Jones if I see him.  Who is he
+and what is he?"
+
+"He has been with Hargreave for fourteen years.  There was a homicidal
+case in which Jones was active.  Hargreave saved him.  He is faithful
+and uncommunicative.  Money will not touch him.  If he does know where
+that million is, hot irons could not make him own up to it.  The only
+way is to watch him, follow him, wait for the moment when he'll grow
+careless.  No man is always on his mettle; he lets up sooner or later."
+
+"He is being watched, as you know."
+
+Vroon nodded approvingly.  "The captain of the tramp steamer _Orient_,
+by the way, was seen with a roll of money.  He was in one of the
+water-front saloons, bragging how he had hoodwinked some one."
+
+"Did he say where he'd got the cash?" asked Braine.
+
+"They tried to pump him on that, but he shut up.  Well, we have agreed
+that Felton shall watch from the street and Orloff from the window.
+Orloff will whistle if he sees Jones removing anything from any of the
+rooms.  The rest will be left to Felton."
+
+"And, Felton, my friend," said Braine softly--he always spoke softly
+when he was in a deadly humor--"Felton, you slept on duty the other
+night.  Hargreave stole up, consulted Jones, and got away after
+knocking me down.  The next failure will mean short shift.  Be warned!"
+
+"I saw only you, sir.  So help me.  I was not asleep.  I saw you run
+down the street after the taxicab.  I did not see any one else."
+
+Braine shrugged.  "Remember what I said."
+
+Felton bowed respectfully and made his exit.  He wished in his soul
+that he might some day catch the master mind free of his eternal mask.
+It was an iron hand which ruled them and there were friends of his
+(Felton's) who had mysteriously vanished after a brief period of
+rebellion.  The boss was a swell; probably belonged to clubs and
+society which he adroitly pilfered.  The organization always had money.
+Whenever there was a desperate job to be undertaken, Vroon simply
+poured out the money necessary to promote it.  Whenever Braine and
+Vroon became engaged in earnest conversation they talked Slav.  Braine
+was never called by name here; the boss, simply that.
+
+Well, ten per cent. of a million was a hundred thousand.  This would be
+equally divided between the second ten of the Black Hundred.  Another
+ten per cent. would go to eighty members; the balance would be divided
+between Vroon and the boss.  But his soul rebelled at being ordered
+about like so much dirt under another man's feet.  He would take his
+ten thousand and make the grand getaway.
+
+The next afternoon the countess called upon Florence.  Nothing was said
+about the adventure, and this fact created a vague unrest in the
+scheming woman's mind.  She realized that she must play her cards more
+carefully than ever.  Not the least distrust must be permitted to enter
+the child's head.  Once that happened good-by to the wonderful
+emeralds.  Was it that she really craved the stone?  Was it not rather
+a venom acquired from the knowledge that this child's mother had won
+what she herself, with all her cleverness, was not sure of--Braine's
+love?  Did he really care for her or was she only the cats-paw to pluck
+his hot chestnuts from the fire?
+
+When Florence showed her the "personal," her vague doubts became
+instantly dissipated.  The child would not have shown her the newspaper
+had there been any distrust on her part.
+
+"My child, your father is alive, then?" animatedly.
+
+"We don't know," sadly.
+
+"Why, I should say that this proves it."
+
+"On the contrary, it proves nothing of the sort, since I have yet to
+discover a treasure in this house.  I have hunted in every nook,
+drawer; I've searched for panels, looked in trunks for false bottoms.
+Nothing, nothing!  Ah, if I could only find it!"
+
+"And what would you do with it?"
+
+"Take it at once to some bank and offer the whole of it for the safe
+return of my father, every penny of it.  I don't know what to do, which
+way to turn," tears gathering in her eyes and they were genuine tears,
+too.  "There are millions in stocks and bonds and I can not touch a
+penny of it because the legal documents have not been found.  I can't
+even prove that I am his daughter, except for half an old bracelet, and
+my father's lawyers say that that would not hold in any court."
+
+"You were born in St. Petersburg, my dear.  Have the embassy there look
+up the birth registers."
+
+"That would not put me into possession.  Nothing but the return of my
+father will avail me.  And there's a horrible thought always of my not
+being his real daughter."
+
+"There's no doubt in my mind.  I have only to recall Katrina's face to
+know whose child you are.  But what will you live on?"  Here was a far
+greater mixup than she had calculated upon.  Supposing after all it was
+only a resemblance, that the child was not Hargreave's, a substitute
+just to blind the Black Hundred?  To keep them away from the true
+daughter?  Her mind grew bewildered over such possibilities.  The
+single and only way to settle all doubts was to make this child a
+prisoner.  If she was Hargreave's true daughter he would come out of
+his hiding.
+
+She heard Florence answering her question: "There is a sum of ten or
+twelve thousand in the Riverdale bank, under the control of my father's
+butler.  After that is gone, I don't know what will happen to us, Susan
+and me."
+
+"The door of Miss Farlow's will always be open to you, Florence,"
+replied Susan, with love in her eyes.
+
+This interesting conversation was interrupted by the advent of Norton.
+He was always dropping in during the late afternoon hours.  Florence
+liked him for two reasons.  One was that Jones trusted him to a certain
+extent and the other was that ... that she liked him.  She finished
+this sentence in her heart defiantly.
+
+To-day he brought her a box of beautiful roses, and at the sight of
+them the countess smiled faintly.  Set the wind in that quarter?  She
+could have laughed.  Here was her revenge against this meddler who took
+no particular notice of her while Florence was in the room.  She would
+encourage him, poor grubbing newspaper writer, with his beggarly
+pittance!  What chance had he of marrying this girl with millions
+within reach of her hand?
+
+The peculiar thing about this was that Norton was entertaining the same
+thought at the same time: what earthly chance had he?
+
+In the second-story window of the house over the way there was a
+worried man.  But when his glasses brought in range the true contents
+of the box he laughed sardonically.  "This watching is getting my goat.
+I smell a rat every time I see a shadow."  He wiped the lenses of his
+opera glasses and proceeded to roll a cigarette.
+
+When the countess and Norton went away Jones stole quietly up to
+Florence's room and threw up the curtain.  Two round points of light
+flashed from the watcher's window, but the saturnine smile on Jones'
+lips was not observed.  He went to the door, opened it cautiously, a
+hand to his ear.  Then he closed the door, turned back the rug and
+removed a section of the flooring.  Out of this cavity he raised a box.
+There was lettering on the lid; in fact, the name of its owner, Stanley
+Hargreave.  Jones replaced the flooring, tucked the box under his arm
+and made his exit.
+
+The man lounging in the shadow heard a faint whistle.  It was the
+signal agreed upon.  The man Felton ran across the street and boldly
+rang the bell.  It was only then that Florence missed the ever present
+butler.  She hesitated, then sent Susan to the door.
+
+"I must see Mr. Jones upon vitally important business."
+
+"He has gone out," said Susan, and very sensibly closed the door before
+Felton's foot succeeded in getting inside.
+
+It was time to act.  He ran around to the rear.  The ladder convinced
+him that Jones had tricked him.  He was wild with rage.  He was over
+the wall in an instant.  Away down the back street his eye discovered
+his man in full flight.  He gave chase.  As he came to the first corner
+he was nearly knocked over by a man coming the other way.
+
+"Who are you bumping into?" growled Felton.
+
+"Not so fast, Felton!"
+
+"Who the devil are you?"
+
+The stranger made a sign which Felton instantly recognized.
+
+"Quick!  What has happened?"
+
+"Jones has the million and is making his getaway.  See him hiking
+toward the water front?"
+
+The two men began to run.
+
+There followed a thrilling chase.  Jones engaged a motorboat and it was
+speeding seaward when the two pursuers arrived.  They were not laggard.
+There was another boat and they made for it.
+
+[Illustration: JONES ENGAGED A MOTOR BOAT]
+
+"A hundred if you overtake that boat," said Felton's strange companion.
+
+Felton eyed him thoughtfully.  There was something familiar about that
+voice.
+
+Great plumes of water shot up into the air.  It did not prove a short
+race by any means.  It took half an hour for the pursuer to overhaul
+the pursued.
+
+"Is that Jones?"
+
+"Yes."  Felton fired his revolver into the air in hopes of terrifying
+Jones' engineer; but there was five hundred dangling before that
+individual's eyes.
+
+"Let them get a little nearer," shouted the butler.
+
+The engineer let down the speed a notch.  The other boat crept up
+within twenty yards.  Jones sought a perfect range.  He would have to
+find this spot again.
+
+"Surrender!" yelled Felton.
+
+In reply Jones raised the precious box and deliberately dropped it into
+the sea.  Then he turned his automatic upon his pursuers and succeeded
+in setting their boat afire.
+
+All this within the space of an hour.  During dinner that night (there
+was now a cook) Jones walked about the dining-table, rubbing his hands
+together from time to time.
+
+"Jones," said Florence, "why do you rub your hands like that?"
+
+"Was I rubbing my hands, Miss Florence?" he asked innocently.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+"Did you get the range?" asked the countess, when that night Braine
+recounted his adventure.
+
+"Range!" he snarled.  "My girl, haven't I just told you that I had to
+fight for my life?  My boat was in flames.  We had to swim for it till
+we were picked up by a Long Island barge tug.  I don't know what became
+of the motorman.  He must have headed straight for shore.  And I'm glad
+he did.  Otherwise he'd be howling for the price of another boat.
+Olga, for the first time I've had to let one of the boys have a look at
+my face.  Doesn't know the name; but one of these days he'll stumble
+across it, and the result will be blackmail, unless I push him off into
+the dark.  It was accidental."
+
+The countess leaned forward, her hands tightly clinched.
+
+"But the box!"
+
+Braine made a gesture of despair.
+
+"Leo, are you using any drug these days?"
+
+[Illustration: "LEO, ARE YOU USING ANY DRUGS THESE DAYS?"]
+
+"Don't make fun of me, Olga," impatiently.  "Did you ever see me drink
+more than a pint of wine or smoke more than two cigars in an evening?
+Poor fools!  What!  Let my brain go into the wastebasket for the sake
+of an hour or so of exhilaration?  No, and never will I!  I'm keen
+about the gray matter I've got, and by the Lord Harry, I'm going to
+keep it.  There's only one dope fiend in the Hundred, and he's one of
+the best decoys we have; so we let him have his coke whenever he really
+needs it.  But this man Felton has seen my face.  Some day he'll see it
+again, ask questions, and then..."
+
+"Then what?"
+
+"A burial at sea," he laughed.  The laughter died swiftly as it came.
+"Threw it into eight hundred feet of water, on a bar where the sands
+are always shifting.  He'll never find it, even if he took the range.
+He could not have got a decent one.  The sun was dropping and the
+shadows were long.  He threw the chest into the water and then began
+pegging away at us, cool as you please, and fired our tank."
+
+"It looks to me as if he had wasted his time."
+
+"That depends.  Between you and me and the gatepost, I've a sneaking
+idea that this man Jones, whom nobody has given any particular
+attention, is a deep, clever man.  He may have been honestly attempting
+to find a new hiding place; the advertisement in the newspaper may have
+drawn him.  He may have thrown the box over in pure rage at seeing
+himself checkmated.  Again, the whole thing may have been worked up for
+our benefit, a blind.  But if that's the case, Jones has us on the hip,
+for we can't tell.  But we can do what in all probability he expects
+we'll cease to do--watch him just as shrewdly as before."
+
+Olga caught his hand and drew him down beside her.  "I wasn't going to
+bother you to-night, but it may mean something vital."
+
+"What?" alertly.
+
+For reply she rose and walked over to the light button.  She pressed it
+and the apartment became dark.
+
+"Come over to the window, quick!"  She dragged him across the room.
+"Over the way, the house with the marble frontage."
+
+A man emerged, lit a cigarette, and walked leisurely down the street.
+
+"No!" she cried, as Braine turned to make for the door doubtless with
+the intention of finding out who the man was.  "Every night after you
+leave he appears."
+
+"Does he follow me?"
+
+"No.  And that's what bothered me at first.  I believed he was watching
+some apartment above.  But regularly when I turn out the lights he
+comes forth.  So there's no doubt he watches you enter and takes note
+of your departure."
+
+"But doesn't follow me.  That's odd.  What the devil is his idea?"
+
+"I'd give a good deal to learn."
+
+The shadow and the glowing cigarette disappeared around the corner, and
+the lights in the apartment were turned on again.
+
+"He's gone.  You really think he's watching me?"
+
+"He is watching this apartment, I know that much."
+
+And even at that moment the watcher was watching from his vantage
+behind the corner.
+
+"Suspicious!" he murmured, tossing the cigarette into the gutter.
+"They're watching me for a change.  I'll drop out.  I know what I know.
+It's a great world.  It's fine to be alive and kicking on top of it."
+He went on without haste and took the subway train for down-town.
+
+"Is there any way I could get near him?" asked Braine.
+
+"To-morrow night you might leave by the janitor's entrance.  I'll keep
+the lights on till you're outside.  Then I'll turn them off and you can
+follow and learn who he is."
+
+"It's mighty important."
+
+"Don't scowl.  At your age a wrinkle is apt to remain it you once get
+it started."
+
+He laughed.  "Wrinkles!"  She could talk of wrinkles!
+
+"They are more important than you think.  Every morning I rub out the
+wrinkle I go to bed with."
+
+"I wish you could rub out the general stupidity which is wrinkling my
+brain.  I've made three moves and failed in each.  What's come over me?"
+
+"Perhaps you've had too many successes.  The wheel of chance is always
+turning around."
+
+"May I smoke?"
+
+"Thanks.  At least it proves you still have some consideration for me.
+You would smoke whether it was agreeable or not.  But I like the odor
+of a good cigar.  And it always helps you to think."
+
+Braine lighted his cigar and began his customary pacing.  At length he
+paused.
+
+"Suppose we have a real old-fashioned coaching party out to the old
+mansion we know about?"
+
+"And what shall we do there?"
+
+"Make the mansion, an enchanted castle where sometimes people who enter
+can't get out.  Do you think you could get her to go?"
+
+"I can try."
+
+"Olga, I must have that girl; and I must have her soon.  Sometimes I
+find myself mightily puzzled over the whole thing.  If Hargreave is
+alive, why doesn't he turn up now that it's practically known that his
+daughter presides over his household?  I might understand it if I
+didn't know that Hargreave is really afraid of nothing.  Where is the
+man with the five thousand, picked up at sea?  What was the reason for
+Jones carrying that box out in broad daylight?  Who is the chap
+watching across the street?  Sometimes I believe in my soul--if I have
+one!--that Hargreave is playing with us, playing!  Well," flinging the
+half consumed cigar into the grate, "the Black Hundred always goes
+forward, win or lose, and never forgets."
+
+"We are a fine pair!" said the woman bitterly.
+
+"We are exactly what fate intended us to be.  They wrote you down in
+the book as a beautiful body with a crooked mind.  They wrote me down
+as the devil, doomed to roam the earth's top till I'm killed."
+
+"Killed?"
+
+"Why, yes.  I'm not the kind of chap who dies in bed, surrounded by the
+weeping members of the family, doctor, nurse, and priest.  I'm a
+scoundrel; but it has this saving grace, I enjoy being the scoundrel.
+Now, I'm going up to the club.  There's nothing like a game of
+billiards or chess to smooth that wrinkle which seems to worry you."
+
+In the great newspaper office there was a mighty racket.  Midnight
+always means pandemonium in the city room of a metropolitan daily.
+Copy boys were rushing to and fro, messengers and printers with sticky
+galleys in their hands; reporters were banging away at their
+typewriters, and intermingling you could hear the ceaseless
+clickety-click from the telegraph room.
+
+The managing editor came out of his office and approached the desk of
+the night city editor.
+
+"Editorial page gone down?"
+
+"Twenty minutes ago," said the night city editor.
+
+"I wanted a stick on that Panama rumpus."
+
+"Too late."
+
+"Where's Jim Norton?"
+
+"At the chamber of commerce banquet.  The major is going to throw a
+bomb into the enemy's camp."
+
+"Nothing on the Hargreave stuff?"
+
+"No.  Guess I'd better put that in the cubbyhole.  He's dead."
+
+"No will found yet?"
+
+"Not a piece as big as a postage stamp."
+
+"That will leave the girl in a tough place.  No will, no birth
+certificate; and, worst of all, no photograph of the old man himself.
+I don't see why Jim sidestepped this affair.  He is the only man in
+town who knew anything about Hargreave."
+
+"He hasn't given it up; but he wants to cover it on his own, turn the
+yarn over when he's got it, no false alarms."
+
+"Ah!  So that's the game?"
+
+"Yes; and Jim is the sort every paper needs.  When the time comes the
+story turns up, if there is one.  Here he is now.  Looks like an actor
+in the fourth act of a drama.  Good-looking chap, though."
+
+Norton came in through the outer gates.  He was in evening clothes, top
+hat.  A dead cigarette dangled between his lips.
+
+"How much do you want?" asked the night city editor.
+
+"Column and a half."
+
+"Off with your glad rags!"
+
+"Anything good?" asked the managing editor.
+
+"The lid has been jammed on tight.  No wine in any restaurant after one
+o'clock.  There'll be a roundup of every gunman in town."
+
+"Good work!  Go to it."
+
+It was one o'clock when Norton turned in his last sheet of copy and
+started for home.  Just outside the entrance to the building a man with
+a slouch hat drawn down over his eyes stepped forward.
+
+"Mr. Norton?"
+
+"Yes."  Norton stepped back suspiciously.
+
+The other chuckled, raised and lowered his hat swiftly.
+
+"Good lord!" murmured the reporter.
+
+"Will you take a ride with me in a taxi?"
+
+"All the way to Syracuse, if you say so.  Well, I'll be tinker d--d!"
+
+"No names, please!"
+
+What took place in that taxicab was never generally known.  But at ten
+o'clock the next morning Norton surprised the elevator boy by going
+out.  Norton proceeded down-town to the national bank, where he
+deposited $5,000 in bills of large denominations.  The teller had some
+difficulty in counting them.  They stuck together and retained the
+sodden appearance of money recently submerged in water.
+
+
+Florence was delighted at the idea of a coaching party.  Often during
+her schoolgirl days she had seen the fashionable coaches go careening
+along the road, with the sharp, clear note of the bugle rising above
+the thunder of hoofs and rattling of wheels.  Jones was not
+enthusiastic; neither was he a killjoy.
+
+"But you are to go along, too," said Florence.
+
+"I, Miss Florence?"
+
+"The countess invited you especially.  You will go with a hamper."
+
+"Ah, in my capacity as butler; very good, Miss Florence."  To her he
+gave no sign of his secret great satisfaction.
+
+The hour arrived, and the gay party bowled away.  They wound in and out
+of the streets toward the country to the crack of the whip and the
+blare of the horn.  Florence's enjoyment would have been perfect had it
+not been for the absence of Norton.  Why hadn't he been invited?  She
+did not ask because she did not care to disclose to the countess her
+interest in the reporter.  They were nearing the limits of the city,
+when the coach was forced to take a sharp turn to avoid an automobile
+in trouble.  The man puttering at the engine raised his head.  It was
+Norton, and Florence waved her hand vigorously.
+
+"A coaching party," he murmured; "and your Uncle James was not invited!
+Oh, very well!"  He laughed, and suddenly grew serious.  It would not
+hurt to find out where that coach was going.
+
+He set to work savagely, located the trouble, righted it, and set off
+for the Hargreave home.  He found Susan and bombarded her with
+questions which to Susan came with the rapidity of rain upon the roof.
+
+"So Jones went along?"
+
+"In his capacity of butler only."
+
+Norton smiled.  "Well, I'll take a jaunt out there myself.  You are
+sure of the location?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, good-by.  I'll go as a waiter, since they wouldn't invite me.
+I'm one of the best little waiters you ever heard of; and all things
+come to him who waits."
+
+What a pleasant, affable young man he was! thought Susan as she watched
+him jump into the car and go flying up the street.
+
+Jones was a good deal surprised when Norton turned up at the old
+Chilton manor.
+
+"What made you come here dressed like this?" the butler demanded.
+
+"I'm a suspicious duffer; maybe that's the reason."
+
+"Do you know anything?"
+
+"Well, no; I can't say that I do.  But, hang it, I just had to come out
+here."
+
+"Maybe it's just as well you did," said Jones moodily.
+
+"I know this place.  The housekeeper used to be my nurse, and if she is
+still on the job she may be of service to us.  You don't think they'll
+question or recognize me?"
+
+"Hardly.  I'll put in a word for you.  I'll say I sent for you, not
+knowing if we had enough servants to take care of the luncheon."
+
+"And now I'll go and hunt up Meg."
+
+Sure enough, his old nurse was still in charge of the house; and when
+her "baby" disclosed his identity she all but fell upon his neck.
+
+"But what are you doing here, dressed up as a waiter?"
+
+"It's a little secret, Meg.  I wasn't invited, and the truth is I'm
+very desperately in love with the young lady in whose honor this
+coaching party is being given.  And ... maybe she's in danger."
+
+"Danger?  What about?"
+
+"The Lord only knows.  But show me about the house.  I've not been here
+in so long I've forgotten the run of it.  I remember one room with the
+secret panel and another with a painting that turned.  Have they
+changed them?"
+
+"No; it is just the same here as it used to be.  Come along and I'll
+show you."
+
+Norton inspected the rooms carefully, stowing away in his mind every
+detail.  He might be worrying about nothing; but so many strange things
+had happened that it was better to be on the side of caution than on
+the side of carelessness.  He left the house and ran across Jones
+carrying a basket of wine.
+
+"Here, Norton; take this to the party.  I want to reconnoiter."
+
+"All right, m'lud!  Say, Jones, how much do you think I'd earn at this
+job?" comically.
+
+"Get along with you, Mr. Norton.  It may be the time to laugh, and then
+it may not."
+
+"I'm going back into the house and hide behind a secret panel.  I've
+got my revolver.  You go to the stables and take a try at my car; see
+if she works smoothly.  We may have to do some hiking.  Where is the
+countess in this?"
+
+"Leave that to me, Mr. Norton," said the butler with his grim smile.
+"Be off; they are moving back toward the house."
+
+So Norton carried the basket around to the lawn, where it was taken
+from his hands by the regular servant.  He sighed as he saw Florence,
+laughing and chatting with a man who was a stranger and whom he heard
+addressed as count.  Some friend of the countess, no doubt.  Where was
+all this tangle going to end?  He wished he knew.  And what a yarn he
+was going to write some day!  It would read like one of Gaboriau's
+tales.  He turned away to wander idly about the grounds, when beyond a
+clump of cedars he saw three or four men conversing slowly.  He got as
+near as possible, for when three or four men put their heads together
+and whisper animatedly, it usually means a poker game or something
+worse.  He caught a phrase or two as they came down the wind, and then
+he knew that the vague suspicion that had brought him out here had been
+set in motion by fate.  He heard "Florence" and "the old drawing room;"
+and that was enough.
+
+He scurried about for Jones.  It was pure luck that he had had old Meg
+show him through the house, otherwise he would have forgotten all about
+the secret panel in the wall and the painting.  Jones shrugged
+resignedly.  Were these men of the countess' party?  Norton couldn't
+say.
+
+[Illustration: THE SECRET PANEL]
+
+Norton made his hiding place in safety; and by and by he could hear the
+guests moving about in the room.  Then all sounds ceased for a while.
+A door closed sharply.
+
+"No; here you must stay, young lady," said a man's voice.
+
+"What do you mean, sir?" demanded the beloved voice.
+
+"It means that no one will return to this room and that you will not be
+missed until it is too late."
+
+The sound of voices stopped abruptly, and something like scuffling
+ensued.  Later Norton heard the back of a chair strike the panel and
+some one sat heavily upon it.  He waited perhaps five minutes; then he
+gently slid back the panel.  Florence sat bound and gagged under his
+very eyes.  It was but the work of a moment to liberate her.
+
+"It is I, Jim.  Do not speak or make the least noise.  Follow me."
+
+Greatly astonished, Florence obeyed; and the panel slipped back into
+place.  The room behind the secret panel had barred windows.  To
+Florence it appeared to be a real prison.
+
+"How did you get here?" she asked breathlessly.
+
+"Something told me to follow you.  And something is always going to
+tell me to follow you, Florence."
+
+She pressed his hand.  It was to her as if one of those book heroes had
+stepped out of a book; only book heroes always had tremendous fortunes
+and did not have to work for a living.  Oddly enough, she was not
+afraid.
+
+"Who was the man?" he asked.
+
+"The Count Norfeldt.  Some one has imposed upon the countess."
+
+"Do you think so?" with a strange look in his eyes.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Nothing just now.  The idea is to get out of here just as quickly as
+we can.  See this painting?"  He touched a spot in the wall and the
+painting slowly swung out like a door.  "Come; we make our escape to
+the side lawn from here."
+
+At the stable they were confronted with the knowledge that Norton's car
+was out of commission; Jones could do nothing with it.  Then Norton
+suggested that he make an effort to commandeer the limousine of the
+countess; but there were men about, so the limousine was out of the
+question.
+
+"Horses!" whispered Jones.  "There are several saddle horses, already
+saddled.  How about these people, the owners?"
+
+"Oh, they are beyond reproach.  They have doubtless been imposed upon.
+But let us get aboard first.  There will be time to talk later.  I'll
+have to do some explaining, taking these nags off like this.  We won't
+have to ride out in front where the picnickers are.  There's a lane
+back of the stable, and a slight detour brings us back into the main
+road."
+
+The three mounted and clattered away.  To Florence it had the air of a
+prank.  She was beginning to have such confidence in these two
+inventive men that she felt as if she was never going to be afraid any
+more.
+
+When the Countess Olga saw the three horses it was an effort not to fly
+into a rage.  But secretly she warned her people, who presently gave
+chase in the limousine, while she prattled and jested and laughed with
+her company, who were quite unaware that a drama was being enacted
+right under their very noses.  The countess, while she acted superbly,
+tore her handkerchief into shreds.  There was something sinister in the
+way all their plans fell through at the very moment of consummation;
+and that night she determined to ask Braine to withdraw from this
+warfare, which gradually decimated their numbers without getting
+anywhere toward the goal.
+
+Jones shouted that the limousine was tearing down the road.  Something
+must be done to stop it.  He suggested that he drop behind, leave his
+horse, and take a chance at potting a tire from the shrubbery at the
+roadside.
+
+"Keep going.  Don't stop, Norton, till you are back in town.  I'll
+manage to take good care of myself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+When all three finally met at the Hargreave home Florence suddenly took
+Jones by the shoulders and kissed him lightly on the cheek.  Jones
+started back, pale and disturbed.
+
+Norton laughed.  He did not feel the slightest twinge of jealousy, but
+he was eaten up with envy, as the old wives say.
+
+"You are wondering if I suspect the Countess Perigoff?" said Jones.
+
+"I am."  This man Jones was developing into a very remarkable
+character.  The reporter found himself side glancing at the thin, keen
+face of this resourceful butler.  The lobe of the man's left ear came
+within range.  Norton reached for a cigarette, but his hands shook as
+he lit it.  There was a peculiar little scar in the center of the lobe.
+
+"Well," said Jones, "I can find no evidence that she has been concerned
+in any of these affairs."
+
+"You are suspicious?"
+
+"Of everybody," looking boldly into the reporter's eyes.
+
+"Of me?" smiling.
+
+"Even of myself sometimes."
+
+Conversation dropped entirely after this declaration.
+
+"You're a taciturn sort of chap."
+
+"Am I?"
+
+"You are.  But an agreement is an agreement, and while I'd like to
+print this story, I'll not.  We newspaper men seldom break our word."
+
+Jones held out his hand.
+
+"Sometimes I wish I'd started life right," said the reporter gloomily.
+"A newspaper man is generally improvident.  He never looks ahead for
+to-morrow.  What with my special articles to the magazines, I earn
+between four and five thousand the year; and I've never been able to
+save a cent."
+
+"Perhaps you've never really tried," replied Jones, with a glance at
+his companion.  It was a good face, strong in outline; a little
+careworn, perhaps, but free from any indications of dissipation.  "If I
+had begun life as you did, I'd have made real and solid use of the
+great men I met.  I'd have made financiers help me to invest my
+earnings, or savings, little as they might be.  And to-day I'd be
+living on the income."
+
+"You never can tell.  Perhaps a woman might have made you think of
+those things; but if you had remained unattached up to thirty-one, as I
+have, the thought of saving might never have entered your head.  A man
+in my present condition, financially, has no right to think of
+matrimony."
+
+"It might be the saving of you if you met and married the right woman."
+
+"But the right woman might be heiress to millions.  And a poor devil
+like me could not marry a girl with money and hang on to his
+self-respect."
+
+"True.  But there are always exceptions to all rules in life, except
+those regarding health.  A healthy man is a normal man, and a normal
+man has no right to remain single.  You proved yourself a man this
+afternoon, considering that you did not know I occupied the wheel seat.
+Come to think it over, you really saved the day.  You gave me the
+opportunity of steering straight for the police station.  Well,
+good-by."
+
+"Queer duck!" mused the reporter as, after telephoning, he headed for
+his office.  Queer duck, indeed!  What a game it was going to be!  And
+this man Jones was playing it like a master.  It did not matter that
+some one else laid down the rules; it was the way in which they were
+interpreted.
+
+Braine heard of the failure.  The Black Hundred was finding its stock
+far below par value.  Four valuable men locked up in the Tombs awaiting
+trial, to say nothing of the seven gunmen gathered in at the old
+warehouse.  Braine began to suspect that his failures were less due to
+chance than to calculation, that at last he had encountered a mind
+which anticipated his every move.  He would have recognized this fact
+earlier had it not been that revenge had temporarily blinded him.  The
+spirit of revenge never makes for mental clarity.
+
+There was a meeting that night of the Black Hundred.  Four men were
+told off, and they drew their chairs up to Vroon's table for
+instructions.  Braine sat at Vroon's elbow.  These four men composed
+the most dangerous quartet in New York City.  They were as daring as
+they were desperate.  They were the men who held up bank messengers and
+got away with thousands.  They had learned to swoop down upon their
+victims as the hawk swoops down upon the heron.  The newspapers
+referred to them as the "auto bandits," and the men took a deal of
+pride in the furore they had created.
+
+[Illustration: FOUR MEN WERE TOLD OFF]
+
+Vroon went over the Hargreave case minutely; he left no detail
+unexplained.  Bluntly and frankly, the daughter of Stanley Hargreave
+must be caught and turned over to the care of the Black Hundred.  It
+must be quick action.  Four valuable members were in the Tombs.  They
+might or might not weaken under pressure.  For the first time in its
+American career the organization stood facing actual peril; and its one
+possible chance of salvation lay in the fact that no one's face was
+known to his neighbor.  He, Vroon, and the boss alone knew who and what
+each man was.  But the plans, the ramifications of the organization
+might become public property; and that would mean an end to an
+exceedingly profitable business.
+
+The daughter of Hargreave rode horseback early every morning.  She
+sought the country road.  She was invariably attended by the riding
+master of a school near by.
+
+"You four will make your own plans."
+
+"If she should be injured?"
+
+"Avoid it if possible."
+
+"We have a free hand?"
+
+"Absolutely."
+
+"We risk a bad fall from her horse if it's a spirited one."
+
+"Pretend a breakdown in the road," interpolated Braine.  "As they
+approach, draw and order them to dismount.  That method will prevent
+any accident."
+
+"We'll plan it somehow.  It looks easy."
+
+"Nothing is easy where that girl is concerned.  A thousand eyes seem to
+be watching her slightest move."
+
+"We shan't leave anything to chance.  How many days will you give us?"
+
+"Seven.  A failure, mind you, will prove unhealthy to all concerned,"
+with a menace which made the four stir uneasily.
+
+The telephone rang.  Braine reached for the receiver.
+
+"A man just entered the Hargreave house at the rear.  Come at once,"
+was the message.
+
+"Is your car outside?" Braine asked.
+
+"We are never without it."
+
+"Then let us be off.  No one will stop us for speeding on a side
+street."
+
+Fourteen minutes by the clock brought the car to a stand at the curb a
+few houses below the Hargreave home.  The men got out.  The watcher ran
+up.
+
+"He is still inside," he whispered.
+
+"Good!  Spread out.  If any one leaves that house, catch him.  If he
+runs too fast, shoot.  We can beat the police."
+
+The man obeyed, and the watcher ran back to his post.  He was
+desperately hoping the affair would terminate to-night.  He was growing
+weary of this eternal vigilance; and it was only his fear of the man
+known as the boss that kept him at his post.  He wanted a night to
+carouse in, to be with the boys.
+
+The man for whom they were lying in wait was seen presently to creep
+cautiously round the side of the house.  He hugged a corner and paused.
+They could see the dim outline of his body.  The light in the street
+back of the grounds almost made a silhouette of him.  By and by, as if
+assured that the coast was clear, he stole down to the street.
+
+"Halt!"
+
+Instantly the prowler took to his heels.  Two shots rang out.  The man
+was seen to stop, stagger, and then go on desperately.
+
+"He's hit!"
+
+By the time the men reached the corner they heard the rumble of a
+motor.  One dashed back to the car they had left standing at the curb.
+He made quick work of the job, but he was not quick enough.  Still,
+they gave chase.  They saw the car turn toward the city.  But,
+unfortunately for the success of the chase, several automobiles passed,
+going into town and leaving it.  Checkmate.
+
+Braine was keen enough to-night.
+
+"He is hit; whether badly or not remains to be seen.  We can find that
+out.  Drive to the nearest drug store and get a list of hospitals.
+It's a ten to one shot that we land him somewhere among the hospitals."
+
+But they searched the hospitals in vain.  None of them had that night
+received a shooting case, nor had they heard one reported.  The man had
+been unmistakably hit.  He would not have dared risk the loss of time
+for a bit of play-acting.  Evidently he had kept his head and sought
+his lodgings.  To call up doctors would be utter folly; for it would
+take a week for a thorough combing.  This was the second time the man
+had got away.
+
+"Perhaps I'm to blame," admitted Braine.  "I should have advised Miles
+to stalk him and pot him if he got the chance.  There's a master mind
+working somewhere back of all this, and it's time I woke up to the
+fact.  But you," turning to the auto bandits, "you men have your
+instructions.  More than that, you have been given a free rein.  See
+that you make good, or by the Lord Harry!  I'll break the four of you
+like pipestems."
+
+"We haven't had a failure yet," spoke up one of the men, more
+courageous than his companions.
+
+"You are not holding up a bank messenger this trip.  Remember that.
+Drive me as far as Columbus Circle.  Leave me on the side street,
+between the lights, so I can take off this mask."
+
+Later Braine sauntered into Pabst's and ordered a light supper.  This
+night's work, more than anything else, brought home to him the fact
+that his luck was changing.  For years he had proceeded with his shady
+occupations without encountering any memorable failure.  He moved in
+the high world, quite unsuspected.  He had written books, given
+lectures, been made a lion of, all the while laughing in his sleeve at
+the gullibility of human nature.  But within the last two weeks he had
+received serious checks.  From now on he must move with the utmost
+caution.  Some one was playing his own game, waging warfare unseen.  A
+battle of wits?  So be it; but Braine intended to play with rough wits,
+and he wasn't going to care which way the sword cut.
+
+He hated Stanley Hargreave with all the hatred of his soul; the hatred
+of a man balked in love.  And the man was alive, defying him; alive
+somewhere in this city this very night, with a bullet under his skin.
+
+"Is everything satisfactory, sir?" he heard the head waiter say.
+
+"Satisfactory?" Braine repeated blankly.
+
+"Yes, sir.  You struck the table as though displeased."
+
+"Oh!"  Then Braine laughed relievedly.  "If I struck the table, it was
+done unconsciously.  I was thinking."
+
+"Beg pardon, sir.  Anything else, sir?"
+
+"No.  Bring me the check."
+
+
+"Your master gives riding lessons?"
+
+The groom who had led the horse back from Hargreave's eyed his
+questioner rather superciliously.
+
+"Yes."  The groom fondled the animal's legs.
+
+"How much is it?"
+
+"Twenty dollars for a ticket of five rides.  The master is the fashion
+up here.  He doesn't cater to any but the best families."
+
+"Pretty steep.  Who was that young lady riding this morning with your
+master?"
+
+"That's the girl all the newspapers have been talking about," answered
+the groom importantly.
+
+"Actress?"
+
+"Actress!  I should say not.  That young woman is the daughter of
+Stanley Hargreave, the millionaire who was lost at sea.  And it won't
+be long before she puts her finger in a pie of four or five millions.
+If you want any rides, you'll have to talk it over with the boss.  He
+may or may not take any more rides.  You'd probably have to ride in the
+afternoon, anyhow, as every nag is out in the morning."
+
+"Where's the most popular road?"
+
+"Toward the park; but Miss Hargreave always goes along the riverside
+road.  She doesn't like strangers about."
+
+"Oh, I see.  Well, I'll drop in this afternoon and see your master.
+They say that riding is good for a torpid liver.  Have a cigar?"
+
+"Thanks."
+
+The groom proceeded into the stables and the affable stranger took
+himself off.
+
+A free rein; they could work it to suit themselves.  There wasn't the
+least obstacle in the way.  On the face of it, it appeared to be the
+simplest job they had yet undertaken.  To get rid of the riding master
+in some natural way after he and the girl had started.  It was like
+falling off a log.
+
+"Susan," said Florence, as she came into breakfast after her
+exhilarating ride, "did you hear pistol shots last night?"
+
+"I heard some noise, but I was so sleepy I didn't try to figure out
+what it was."
+
+"Did you, Jones?"
+
+"Yes, Miss Florence.  The shots came from the street.  A policeman came
+running up later and said he saw two automobiles on the run.  But
+evidently there wasn't anybody hurt.  One has to be careful at night
+nowadays.  There are pretty bad men abroad.  Did you enjoy the ride?"
+
+"Very much.  But there were some spots of blood on the walk near the
+corner."
+
+"Blood?"  Jones caught the back of a chair to steady himself.
+
+"Yes.  So some one was hurt.  Oh, let's leave this place!" impulsively.
+"Let us go back to Miss Farlow's.  You could find a place in the
+village, Jones.  But if I stay here much longer in this state of unrest
+I shall lose faith in everything and everybody.  Whoever my father's
+enemies are, they do not lack persistence.  They have made two attempts
+against my liberty, and sooner or later they will succeed.  I keep
+looking over my shoulder all the time.  If I hear a noise I jump."
+
+"Miss Florence, if I thought it wise, you should be packed off to Miss
+Farlow's this minute.  But not an hour of the day or night passes
+without this house being watched.  I seldom see anybody about.  I can
+only sense the presence of a watcher.  At Miss Farlow's you would be
+far more like a prisoner than here.  I could not accompany you.  I am
+forbidden to desert this house."
+
+"My father's orders?"
+
+Jones signified neither one way nor the other.  He merely gazed
+stolidly at the rug.
+
+"That blood!"  She sprang from her chair, horrified.  "It was his!  He
+was here last night and they shot him!  Oh!"
+
+"There, there, Miss Florence!  The man was only slightly wounded.  He's
+where they never will look for him."  Then Jones continued, as with an
+effort: "Trust me, Miss Florence.  It would not pay to run away.  The
+whole affair would be repeated elsewhere.  We might go to the other end
+of the world, but it would not serve us in the least.  It is not a
+question of escape, but of who shall vanquish the other.  There is
+nothing to do but remain here and fight, fight, fight.  We have put
+four of them in the Tombs, to say nothing of the gunmen.  That is what
+we must do--put them in a safe place, one by one, till we reach the
+master.  Then only may we breathe in safety.  But if they watch, so do
+we.  There is never a moment when help is not within reach, no matter
+where you go.  So long as you do not deceive me, no real harm shall
+befall you.  Don't cry.  Be your father's daughter, as I am his
+servant."
+
+"I am very unhappy!"  And Florence threw her arms around Susan and laid
+her head upon her friend's shoulder.
+
+"Poor child!"  Susan, however, recognized the wisdom of Jones'
+statements.  They were safest here.
+
+The morning rides continued.  To the girl, who loved the open, it was
+glorious fun.  Those mad gallops along the roads, the smell of earth
+and sea, the tingle in the blood, were the second best moments of the
+day.  The first?  She invariably blushed when she considered what these
+first best moments were.  He was a brave young man, good to look at,
+witty, and always cheerful.  Why shouldn't she like him?  Even Jones
+liked him--Jones, who didn't seem to like anybody.  It did not matter
+whether he was wise or not; a worldly point of view was farthest from
+her youthful thoughts.  It was her own affair; her own heart.
+
+Five days later, as she and the riding master were cantering along the
+road, enjoying every bit of it, they heard the beat of hoofs behind.
+They drew up and turned.  A rider was approaching them at a run.  It
+was the head groom.  The man stopped his horse in a cloud of dust.
+
+"Sir, the stables are on fire."
+
+"Fire?"
+
+All the riding master's savings were invested in the stables.  The fact
+that he had solemnly promised never to leave Florence alone, and that
+he had accepted a generous bonus slipped from his mind at the thought
+of fire, a terrible word to any horseman.  He wheeled and started off
+at breakneck speed, his head groom clattering behind him.
+
+Florence naturally wondered which of two courses to pursue: follow
+them, when she would be perfectly helpless to aid them, or continue the
+ride and save at least one horse from the terror of seeing flames.  She
+chose the latter.  But she did not ride with the earlier zest.  She
+felt depressed.  She loved horses, and the thought of them dying in
+those wooden stables was horrifying.
+
+The fire, however, proved to be incipient.  But it was plainly
+incendiary.  Some one had set fire to the stables with a purpose in
+view.  Norton recognized this fact almost as soon as the firemen.  He
+had come this morning with the idea of surprising Florence.  He was
+going out on horseback to join her.
+
+His spine grew suddenly cold.  A trap!  She had been left alone on the
+road!  He ran over to the garage, secured a car, and went humming out
+toward the river road.  A trap, and only by the sheerest luck had he
+turned up in time.
+
+Meantime Florence was walking her mount slowly.  For once the scenery
+passed unobserved.  She was deeply engrossed with thoughts, some of
+which were happy and some of which were sad.  If only her father could
+be with her she would be the happiest girl alive.
+
+She was brought out of her revery by the sight of a man staggering
+along the road ahead of her.  Finally he plunged upon his face in the
+road.  Like the tender-hearted girl she was, she stopped, dismounted,
+and ran to the fallen man to give him aid.  She suddenly found her
+wrists clasped in two hands like iron.  The man rose to his feet,
+smiling evilly.  She struggled wildly but futilely.
+
+"Better be sensible," he said.  "I am stronger than you are.  And I
+don't wish to hurt you.  Walk on ahead of me.  It will be utterly
+useless to scream or cry out.  You can see for yourself that we are in
+a deserted part of the road.  If you will promise to act sensibly I
+shan't lay a hand on you.  Do you see that hut yonder, near the fork in
+the road?  We'll stop there.  Now, march!"
+
+[Illustration: "BETTER BE SENSIBLE," HE SAID]
+
+She dropped her handkerchief, later her bracelet, and finally her crop,
+in hope that these slight clues might bring her help.  She knew that
+Jones would hear of the fire, and, finding that she had not returned
+with the riding master, would immediately start out in pursuit.  She
+was beginning to grow very fond of Jones, who never spoke unless spoken
+to, who was always at hand, faithful and loyal.
+
+From afar came the low rumble of a motor.  She wondered if her captor
+heard it.  He did, but his ears tricked him into believing that it came
+from another direction.  Eventually they arrived at the hut, and
+Florence was forced to enter.  The man locked the door and waited
+outside for the automobile which he was expecting.  He was rather
+dumfounded when he saw that it was coming from the city, not going
+toward it.
+
+It was Norton.  The riderless horse told him enough; the handkerchief
+and bracelet and crop led him straight for the hut.
+
+The man before the hut realized by this time that he had made a
+mistake.  He attempted to re-enter the hut and prepare to defend it
+till his companions hove in sight.  But Florence, recognizing Norton,
+held the door with all her strength.  The man snarled and turned toward
+Norton, only to receive a smashing blow on the jaw.
+
+Norton flung open the door.  "Into the car, Florence!  There's another
+car coming up the road.  Hurry!"
+
+It was not a long chase.  The car of the auto bandits, looking like an
+ordinary taxicab, was a high-powered machine, and it gained swiftly on
+Norton's four-cylinder.  The reporter waited grimly.
+
+"Keep your head down!" he warned Florence.  "I'm going to take a pot at
+their tires when they get within range.  If I miss I'm afraid we'll
+have trouble.  Under no circumstances attempt to leave this car.  Here
+they come!"
+
+He suddenly leaned back and fired.  It was only chance.  The manner in
+which the cars were lurching made a poor target for a marksman even of
+the first order.  Chance directed Norton's first bullet into the right
+forward tire, which exploded.  Going at sixty-odd miles an hour, they
+could not stop the car in time to avoid fatality.  The car careened
+wildly and plunged down the embankment into the river.
+
+Florence covered her eyes with her hands, and, quite unconscious of
+what he was doing, Norton put his arms around her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+After the affair of the auto bandits--three of whom were killed--a lull
+followed.  If you're a sailor you know what kind of a lull I
+mean--blue-black clouds down the southwest horizon, the water crinkly,
+the booms wabbling.  Suddenly a series of "accidents" began to happen
+to Norton.  At first he did not give the matter much thought.  The safe
+which fell almost at his feet and crashed through the sidewalk merely
+induced him to believe he was lucky.  At another time an automobile
+came furiously around a corner while he was crossing the street, and
+only amazing agility saved him from bodily hurt.  The car was out of
+sight when he thought to recall the number.
+
+Then came the jolt in the subway.  Only a desperate grab by one of the
+guards saved him from being crushed to death.  Even then he thought
+nothing.  But when a new box of cigarettes arrived and he tried one and
+found it strangely perfumed, and, upon further analysis, found it to
+contain a Javanese narcotic, a slow but sure death, he became wide
+awake enough.  They were after him.  He began to walk carefully, to
+keep in public places as often as he possibly could.
+
+He was not really afraid of death, but he did abhor the thought of its
+coming up from behind.  Except for the cigarettes they were all
+"accidents;" he could not have proved anything before a jury of his
+intimate friends.
+
+He never entered an elevator without scrupulous care.  He never passed
+under coverings over the sidewalks where construction was going on.
+Still, careful as he was, death confronted him once more.  It was his
+habit to have his coffee and rolls--he rarely ate anything more for his
+breakfast--set down outside his door every morning.  The coffee, being
+in a silver thermos bottle, kept its heat for hours.  When he took the
+stopper out and poured forth a cup it looked oddly black, discolored.
+It is quite probable that had there been no series of "accidents" he
+would have drunk a cup--and died in mortal agony.  It contained
+bichloride of mercury.
+
+Very quietly he set about to make inquiries.  This was really becoming
+serious.  In the kitchens clown-stairs nothing could be learned.  The
+maid had set the thermos bottle before the door at ten-thirty.  Norton
+had opened the door at one-thirty--three hours after.  The outlook was
+not the cheerfulest.  He knew perfectly well why all these things
+"happened;" he had interfered with the plans of the scoundrels who were
+making every possible move to kidnap Florence Hargreave.
+
+One afternoon he paid Florence a visit.  Of course he told her nothing.
+They had become secretly engaged the day after he had rescued her from
+the auto bandits.  They were secretly engaged because Florence wanted
+it so.  For once Jones suspected nothing.  Why should he?  He had
+troubles enough.  As a matter of fact, Norton was afraid of him in the
+same sense as a boy is afraid of a policeman.
+
+[Illustration: THEY HAD BECOME SECRETLY ENGAGED]
+
+But on this day, when the time came, he accosted the butler and drew
+him into the pantry.
+
+"Jones, they are after me now."
+
+"You?  Explain."
+
+Norton briefly recounted the deliberate attempts against his life.
+
+"You see, I'm not liar enough to say that I'm not worried.  I am,
+devilishly worried.  I'm not worth any ransom.  I'm in the way, and
+they seem determined to put me out of it."
+
+"To any other man I would say travel.  But to you I say when you leave
+your rooms don't go where you first thought you would--that is, some
+usual haunt.  They'll be everywhere, near your restaurants, your clubs,
+your office.  You're a methodical young man; become erratic.  Keep away
+from here for at least three days, but always call me up by telephone
+some time during the day.  Never under any circumstance, unless I send
+for you, come here at night.  Only one man now watches the house during
+the day, but five are prowling around after dark.  They might have
+instructions to shoot you on sight.  I can't spare you just at present,
+Mr. Norton.  You've been a godsend; and if it seems that sometimes I
+did not trust you fully it was because I did not care to drag you in
+too deep."
+
+Deep?  Norton thought of Florence and smiled inwardly.  Could anybody
+be in deeper than he was?  Once it was on the tip of his tongue to
+confess his love for Florence, but the gravity of Jones' countenance
+was an obstacle to such move; it did not invite it.
+
+To be sure, Jones had no real authority to say what Florence should or
+should not do with her heart.  Still, from all points of view, it was
+better to keep the affair under the rose till there came a more
+propitious hour in which to make the disclosure.
+
+Love, in the midst of all these alarms!  Sharp, desperate rogues on one
+side, millions on the other, and yet love could enter the scene
+serenely, like an actor who had missed his cue and come on too soon.
+
+Oddly enough, there was no real love-making such as you often read
+about.  A pressure of the hand, a glance from the eye, there was seldom
+anything more.  Only once--that memorable day on the river road--had he
+kissed her.  No word of love had been spoken on either side.  In that
+wild moment all conventionalities had disappeared like smoke in the
+wind.  There had been neither past nor future, only the present in
+which they knew that they loved.  With her he was happy, for he had no
+time to plan over the future.  Away from her he saw the inevitable
+barriers providing against the marriage between a poor young man and a
+very rich young woman.  A man who has any respect for himself wants
+always to be on equal terms with his wife.  It's the way this peculiar
+organization called society has written down its rules.  Doubtless a
+relic of the stone age, when Ab went out with his club to seek a wife
+and drag her by the hair to his den, there to care for her and to guard
+her with his life's blood.  It is one of the few primitive sensations
+that remain to us, this wanting the female dependent upon the male.
+Perhaps this accounts for man's lack of interest on the suffragette
+question.
+
+[Illustration: WITH HER HE WAS HAPPY, FOR HE HAD NO TIME TO PLAN OVER
+THE FUTURE]
+
+Only Susan suspected the true state of affairs, being a woman.  Having
+had no real romance herself, she delighted in having a second-hand one,
+as you might say.  She intercepted many a glance and pretended not to
+see the stolen hand pressures.  The wedding was already full drawn in
+her mind's eye.  These two young people should be married at Susan
+Farlow's when the roses were climbing up the sides of the house and the
+young robins were boldly trying their fuzzy wings.  It struck her as
+rather strange, but she could not conjure up (at this wedding) more
+than two men besides the minister, the bridegroom and the butler.
+
+By forsaking his accustomed haunts, under the advice of Jones, the
+hidden warfare ceased temporarily.  You can't very well kill a man when
+you don't know where to find him.  He ate his breakfasts haphazardly,
+now here, now there.  He received most of his assignments by telephone
+and wrote his stories and articles in his club, in the writing rooms of
+hotels, and invariably despatched them to the office by messenger.  The
+managing editor wanted to know what all this meant; but Norton declined
+to tell him.
+
+It irked him to be forced to rearrange his daily life--his habits.  It
+was a revolution against his ease, for he loved ease when he was not at
+work.  He had the sensation of having been suddenly robbed of his home,
+of having been cast out into the streets.  And on top of all this he
+had to go and fall in love!
+
+There was no longer a shadow opposite the apartments of the Countess
+Perigoff.  Braine came and went nightly without discovering any one.
+This rather worried him.  It gave him the impression that the shadow
+had found out what he had been seeking and no longer needed to watch
+the coming and going of either himself or the Countess Perigoff.
+
+"Olga, it looks as if we were at the end of our rope," he said
+discouragedly.  "We have failed in our attempts so far.  The devil
+watches over that girl."
+
+"Or God," replied the countess gloomily.  In nearly every instance
+their success has been due to chance.  "Somehow I'm convinced that we
+began wrong.  We should have let Hargreave escape quietly, followed
+him, and made him fast when the right opportunity came.  After a month
+or so his vigilance would have relaxed; he would have arrived at the
+belief that he had eluded us."
+
+"Indeed!" ironically.  "He wasn't vigilant all these years in which he
+did elude us.  How about the child he never sought but guarded?
+Vigilance!  He never was anything else all these seventeen years.  The
+truth is, success has developed a coarseness in our methods.  And now
+it is too late for finesse.  We have tried every device we can think
+of; and there they are--the girl free, Norton unharmed, and the father
+as secure in his retreat as though he wore an invisible cloak.  My head
+aches.  I have ceased to be inventive."
+
+[Illustration: THEY WERE TO BE MARRIED]
+
+"The two are in love with each other."
+
+"Are you sure of that?"
+
+"I have my eyes.  But I begin to wonder."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"Whether or not Jones suspects me and is giving me rope to hang myself
+with.  Not once have the police been called in and told what has really
+happened.  They are totally at sea.  And what has become of the man
+over the way?"
+
+"By the Lord Harry!" exclaimed Braine, clapping his hands.  "I believe
+I've solved that.  We shot a man coming out of Hargreave's.  Since then
+there's been no one across the way.  One and the same man!"
+
+"But that knowledge doesn't get us anywhere."
+
+"No.  You say they are in love?"
+
+"Secretly.  I don't believe the butler has an inkling of it.  It is
+possible, however, that Susan has caught the trend of affairs.  But,
+being rather romantic, she will in nowise interfere."
+
+Braine smoked in silence.  Presently a smile twisted his lips.
+
+"You have thought of something?" she asked.
+
+"You might try it," he said.  "They have accepted your friendship;
+whether with ulterior purpose remains to be learned.  She has been to
+your apartments two or three times to tea and always got home safely."
+
+"No," she said determinedly.  "Nothing shall happen here.  I will not
+take the risk."
+
+"Wait till I'm through.  Break up the romance in such a way that the
+girl will bar Norton from the house.  That's what we've been aiming at;
+to get rid of that meddling reporter.  We've tried poisons.  Try your
+kind."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Lies."
+
+"Ah!  I understand.  You want me to win him away from her.  It can not
+be done."
+
+"Pshaw!  You have a bag full of tricks.  You can easily manage to put
+him into an equivocal position out of which he can not possibly squirm
+so far as the girl is concerned.  A little melodrama, arranged for the
+benefit of Florence.  Fall into Norton's arms at the right moment, or
+something like that."
+
+"I suppose I could.  But if I failed..."
+
+"You're too damnably clever to fail in your own particular work.
+Something has got to be done to keep those two apart.  I've often
+thought of raiding the house and boldly carrying off the whole family,
+Susan and all.  But a wholesale affair like that would be too noisy.
+Think it over, Olga; we have gone too far to back down now.  There's
+always Russia; and while I'm the boss over here they never cease to
+watch me.  They'll make me answer for a failure like this."
+
+She eyed him speculatively.  "You have money."
+
+"Oh, the money doesn't matter.  It's the game.  It's the game of
+playing fast and loose with society, of pilfering it with one hand and
+making it kow-tow with the other.  It's the sport of the thing.  What
+was your thought?"
+
+"We could go away together, to South America."
+
+"And tire of each other within a month," he retorted shrewdly.  "No; we
+are in the same boat.  We could not live but for this never-ending
+excitement.  And, more than that, we never could get far enough away
+from the long arm of the First Ten.  We'll have to stick it out here.
+Can't you see?"
+
+"Yes, I can see."
+
+But in her heart she knew that she would have lived in a hut with this
+man till the end of her days.  She abhorred the life, though she never,
+by the slightest word, let him become aware of it.  There was always
+that abiding fear that at the first sign of weakness he would desert
+her.  And she was wise in her deductions.  Braine was loyal to her
+because she held his interest.  Once that failed, he would be off and
+away.
+
+The next afternoon the countess, having matured her plans against the
+happiness of the young girl who trusted her, drew up before the
+Hargreave place and alighted.  Her welcome was the same as ever, and
+this strengthened her confidence.
+
+The countess was always gesticulating.  Her hands fluttered to
+emphasize her words.  And the beautiful diamond solitaire caught the
+girl's eye.  She seized the hand.  Having an affair of her own, it was
+natural that she should be interested in that of her friend.
+
+"I never saw that ring before."
+
+"A gift of yesterday."  The countess assumed a shy air which would have
+deceived St. Anthony.  She twisted the ring on her finger.
+
+"Tell me," cried Florence.  "You are engaged?"
+
+"Mercy, no!"
+
+"Is he rich?"
+
+"No.  Money should not matter when your heart is involved."
+
+As this thought was in accord with her own, Florence nodded her head
+sagely.
+
+"It's nothing serious.  Just a fancy.  I shall never marry again.  Men
+are gay deceivers; they always have been and always will be.  Perhaps
+I'm a bit wicked; but I rather like to prove my theory that all men are
+weak.  If I had a daughter I'd rather have her be an old man's darling
+than a young man's drudge.  I distrust every man I know.  I came to ask
+you and Susan to go to the opera with me to-night.  You will come to my
+apartments first.  You will come?"
+
+"To be sure we will!"
+
+"Simple little fool!" thought the Russian on the way home.  "She shall
+see."
+
+"I believe the countess is engaged to be married," said Florence to
+Jones.
+
+"Indeed, miss?"
+
+"Yes.  I couldn't get anything definite out of her, but she had a
+beautiful ring on her finger.  She wants Susan and me to go to the
+opera with her to-night.  Will that be all right?"
+
+Jones gazed abstractedly at the rug.  Whenever a problem bothered him
+he seemed to find the solution in the delicate patterns of the Persian
+rugs.  Finally he nodded.  "I see no reason why you should not go.
+Only, watch out."
+
+"Jones, there is one thing that will make me brave and happy.  Will you
+tell me if you are in direct communication with my father?"
+
+"Yes, Miss Florence," he answered promptly.  "But do not breathe this
+to a single soul, neither Susan nor Norton."
+
+"I promise that.  But, ah! hasten the day when he can come to me
+without fear."
+
+"That is my wish also."
+
+"You need not call me miss.  Why should you?"
+
+"It might not be wise to have any one hear me call you thus
+familiarly," he objected gravely.
+
+"Please yourself about that.  Now I must telephone Jim."
+
+"Jim?" the butler murmured.
+
+He caught the word which was not intended for his ears.  But for once
+Jones had been startled out of himself.
+
+"Is it wrong for me to call Mr. Norton Jim?" she asked with a bit of
+banter.
+
+"It is not considered quite the proper thing, Miss Florence, to call a
+young man by his first name unless you are engaged to marry him, or
+grew up with him from childhood."
+
+"Well, supposing I were engaged to him?" haughtily.
+
+"That would be a very grave affair.  What have you to prove that he may
+not wish to marry you for your money?"
+
+"Why, Jones, you know that I haven't a penny in the world I can call my
+own!  There is nothing to prove, except your word, that I am Stanley
+Hargreave's daughter."
+
+"No, there is nothing to prove that you are his daughter.  But hasn't
+it ever occurred to you that there might be a purpose back of this?
+Might it not be of inestimable value that your father's enemies should
+be left in doubt?  Might it not be a means of holding them on the
+leash?  There is proof, ample proof, my child; and when the time comes
+these will be shown you.  But meantime put all thought of marrying Mr.
+Norton out of your mind."
+
+"That I refuse to do," quietly.  "I am at least mistress of my heart;
+and no one shall dictate to me whom I shall or shall not marry.  I love
+Mr. Norton and he loves me, knowing that I may not be an heiress after
+all.  And some day I shall marry him."
+
+Jones bowed.  This seemed to appear final to him, and nothing more was
+to be said.
+
+Norton did not return to his rooms till seven.  He found the telephone
+call and also a note in a handwriting unfamiliar.  He tore off the
+envelope and found!  the contents to be from the Countess Perigoff.
+
+"Call at eight to-night," he read.  "I have an important news story for
+you.  Tell no one, as I can not be involved in the case.  Cordially,
+Olga, Countess Perigoff."
+
+Humph!  Norton twiddled the note in his fingers and at length rolled it
+into a ball and threw it into the waste-basket.  He, too, made a
+mistake; he should have kept that note.  He dressed, dined, and hurried
+off to the apartments of the countess.
+
+He arrived ten minutes before Florence and Susan.
+
+And Jones did some rapid telephoning.
+
+"How long, how long!" the butler murmured.  How long would this strange
+combat last?  The strain was terrible.  He slept but little during the
+nights, for his ears were always waiting for sounds.  He had cast the
+chest into the sea, and it would take a dozen expert divers to locate
+it.  And now, atop of all these worries, the child must fall in love
+with the first comer!  It was heart-breaking.  Norton, so far as he had
+learned, was cool and brave, honest and reliable in a pinch; but as the
+husband of Stanley Hargreave's daughter, that was altogether a
+different matter.  And he must devise some means of putting a stop to
+it, but---
+
+But he was saved that trouble.
+
+Mongoose and cobra, that was the game being played; the cunning of the
+one against the deadly venom of the other.  If he forced matters he
+would only lay himself open to the strike of the snake.  He must have
+patience.  Gradually they were breaking the organization, lopping off a
+branch here and there, but the peace of the future depended upon
+getting a grip on the spine of the cobra himself.
+
+The trick was simple.  The countess had news; trust her for that.  She
+exhibited a cablegram, dated at Gibraltar, in which the British
+authorities stated definitely that no such a person as William Orts,
+aviator, had arrived at Gibraltar.  And then, as Norton rose, she rose
+also and gently precipitated herself into his arms, just at the moment
+when Florence appeared in the doorway.
+
+Very simple, indeed.  When a woman falls toward a man there is nothing
+for him to do but extend his arms to prevent her from falling.
+Outwardly, however, to the eye which saw only the picture and
+comprehended not the cause, it had all the hallmarks of an affectionate
+embrace.
+
+Florence stood perfectly still for a moment, then turned away.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said the countess, "but a sudden fainting spell
+seized me.  My heart is a bit weak."
+
+"Don't mention it," replied the gallant Norton.  He was as innocent as
+a babe as to what had really taken place.
+
+Florence went back home.  She wrote a brief note to Norton and inclosed
+the ring which she had secretly worn attached to a little chain around
+her neck.
+
+When Norton came the next day she refused to see him.  It was all over.
+She never wished to see him again.
+
+"He says there has been some cruel mistake," said Jones.
+
+"I saw him with the countess in his arms.  I do not see any cruel
+mistake in that.  I saw him.  Tell him so.  And add that I never wish
+to see him again."
+
+Then she ran swiftly to her room, where she broke down and cried
+bitterly and would not be comforted by Susan.
+
+"In heaven's name, what has happened?" demanded the frantic lover,
+"what has happened?"
+
+The comedy of the whole affair lay in the fact that neither of the two
+suspected the countess, who consoled them both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+So far as Jones was concerned, he was rather pleased with the turn of
+affairs.  This was no time for love-making; no time for silly,
+innocuous quarrels and bickerings, in which love must indulge or die.
+Florence no longer rode horseback, and Norton returned to his
+accustomed haunts, where no one made the slightest attempt upon his
+life.  In his present state of mind he would have welcomed it.
+
+"What's the matter with Jim?" asked the night city editor, raising his
+eye shade.
+
+"I don't know," answered the copy reader.
+
+"Goes around as if he'd been eating dope; bumped into the boss a while
+ago and never stopped to apologize."
+
+"Perhaps he's mapping out the front page for that Hargreave stuff,"
+laughed the copy reader.  "Between you and me and the gate post, I
+don't believe there ever was a man by the name of Hargreave."
+
+"Oh, there was a chap by that name, all right.  He's dead.  A man can't
+swim three hundred miles in rough water, life-buoy or no.  They ought
+to have funeral services, and let it go at that."
+
+"But what was the reason for that fake cable from Gibraltar saying that
+Orts was alive?  I don't see any sense in that."
+
+"The man who pulled it off did.  I think, for my part, that both Orts
+and Hargreave are dead, and that the man picked up by the tramp steamer
+_Orient_ was riding some other balloon."
+
+"You're wrong there.  The description of it proved that it was Orts'
+machine.  Oh, Jim probably has got a man's-size yarn up his sleeve, but
+he's a long time in delivering the goods.  He's beginning to mope a
+good deal.  Woman back of it somewhere.  Haven't held down this copy
+job for twelve years without being able to make some tolerable guesses.
+Jim's a star man.  When he gets started nothing can stop him.  He
+covered the Chinese Boxer rebellion better than any other correspondent
+there.  I wonder how old he is?"
+
+"Oh, I should say about thirty-one or two.  Here he comes now.  'Lo,
+Jim!"
+
+"Hello!  Where's Ford?  He gave me a ticket to the theater to-night,
+and I want to punch his head.  What's drama coming to, anyhow?
+Cigarettes and booze and mismated couples.  Can't they find good enough
+things out of doors?  Oh, I know.  They cater to a lot of fools who
+believe that what they see is an expression of high life in New York
+and London.  And it's rot, plain rot.  It's merely the scum of the
+boiling pot.  Any old housewife would skim it off and chuck it into the
+slops.  Life?  Piffle!"
+
+"What's the grouch?"
+
+"Looking for the dramatic job?"
+
+"No.  I've just been wondering how far these theatrical managers can go
+without slitting the golden goose."
+
+Norton sought his desk and began rummaging the drawers.  He was not
+hunting for anything; he was merely passing away the time.  By and by,
+when the time no longer served, he pulled his chair over to the window
+and sat down, staring at stars such as Copernicus never dreamed of.
+Ships going down to sea, ferries swooping diagonally hither and
+thither, the clockwork signs; but he took no note of these marvels of
+light.
+
+"Not at home!" he muttered.
+
+He had called, written, telephoned.  No use.  The door remained shut,
+Jones answered the telephone, and the letters came back.  He began to
+think very deeply concerning the Perigoff woman.  Had she played a
+trick?  Had that fainting spell been buncombe for his benefit as well
+as Florence's?  But he had not a shadow of a proof.  The thing that
+puzzled him equally with this was that all attempts against his life
+had miraculously ceased; no safes thundered down in front of him, and
+no autos tried to carve him in two.  The only thing that kept him
+active was the daily call of Jones by wire.  Miss Florence was well;
+that was all Jones was permitted to say.
+
+Restlessly Norton spurned his chair and walked over to the telephone
+booth.  It was midnight.  He might or might not be able to get Jones.
+But almost instantly a voice said, "What is it?"
+
+"Jones?"
+
+"Yes.  Who is it?"
+
+"Norton."
+
+"Why, you called me up not ten minutes ago."
+
+"Not I!"
+
+"It was your voice, as plain as day."
+
+"What did I want?" keen all at once.
+
+The reply did not come immediately.  "You are certain it was not you?"
+
+"Wait a moment and I'll call the editor.  He will prove to you that
+I've been here for an hour, and that this is the first call I've made.
+Some one has been imposing on you.  What did they ask you to do?"
+
+"You asked me to come down to the office at once, and I requested you
+to come to the house, and you said you could not.  I declined to stir."
+
+"What did you think?"
+
+"Exactly what you're thinking--that they have come to life again."
+
+"Jones, is Miss Florence awake?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Do you think there is any hope of having her understand what really
+happened?"
+
+"I am only here to guard her.  I can not undertake to read her
+thoughts."
+
+"You're not quite in favor of a reconciliation?"
+
+"Oh, yes, if it went no further.  Young people are young people the
+world over."
+
+"What does that mean?"
+
+"That they would not create imaginary heartaches if they were not
+young.  Better let things remain exactly as they are.  When all these
+troubles are settled finally, the lesser trouble may be talked over
+sensibly.  But this is not the time.  There is no news.  Good night."
+
+Norton returned to his chair, gloomier than ever.  With his feet upon
+the window sill he stared and stared and dreamed and dreamed till a
+hand fell upon his shoulder.  It belonged to one of the office boys.
+
+"Note f'r you, sir."
+
+Norton read it and tore it into little pieces.  Then he rose and
+distributed the pieces in the several yawning waste baskets which
+strewed the aisle leading to the city desk.
+
+"I'm not wanted for anything?" he asked.
+
+"No.  Clear out!" laughed the night city editor.  "The sight of you is
+putting everybody in the gloom ward."
+
+Norton went down to the street.  At the left of the entrance he was
+quietly joined by a man whose arm was carried in a sling.  He motioned
+Norton to get into the taxicab.  They were dropped in a deserted spot
+in Riverdale.  On foot they went forward to their destination, which
+proved to be the deserted hangar of the aviator, William Orts.
+
+"I want you to tell Jones that a tub and several divers are at work on
+the spot where he threw the chest.  That's all.  Now, doctor, rewind
+this arm of mine."
+
+The amateur surgeon made a very good job of it; not for nothing had he
+followed fighting armies to the front.
+
+"Did they find anything?"
+
+"Not up to date.  But we might if we cared to.  They have left a buoy
+over the spot they're exploring.  But just now it floats a quarter of a
+mile to the east of the spot."
+
+"Who were the men in the motor boat that chased Jones?"
+
+"Only Jones can tell you.  Queer old codger, eh?"
+
+"A bit stubborn.  He wants to handle it without police assistance."
+
+"And he's right.  We are not aiming to arrest any one," sinisterly.
+"There can't be any draw to this game.  Here, no smoking.  Too much gas
+afloat."
+
+Norton put the cigarettes back into his pocket.  "What's the real
+news?" he demanded.  "You would not bring me out here just to rebandage
+that arm.  It really did not need it.  Come, out with it."
+
+"You're sharp."
+
+"I'm paid to be sharp."
+
+"I've found where the Black Hundred hold their sessions."
+
+"By George, that's news!"
+
+"The room above is vacant.  A little hole in the ceiling, and who knows
+what might happen?"
+
+"What do you want me to do?"
+
+"Tell Jones.  When the next meeting comes around I'll advise you.  I've
+stumbled upon a dissatisfied member.  So, buck up, as they say.  We've
+got two ends of the net down, and with a little care we'll have them
+all.  Now let me have a hundred."
+
+Norton drew out a packet of bills and counted off five twenties.
+
+"Why don't you draw the cash yourself?"
+
+"It happens to be in your name, son."
+
+"I forgot," said Norton.  "But what a chance for me!  Nearly five
+thousand, all mine for a ticket to Algiers!"
+
+A grunt was the only reply.
+
+"I want you to tell me about the Perigoff woman."
+
+"I know only one thing--that Braine is there every night."
+
+"No!"
+
+"The orders are for you to play the game just as you are playing it.
+When we strike, it must be the last blow.  All this hide-and-seek
+business may look foolish to you.  It's like that Japanese game called
+'jo.'  It looks simple, but chess is a tyro's game beside it.  Can you
+find your way back all right?"
+
+"I can."
+
+"Well, you'd better be going.  That's all the light I have, in this
+torch here.  Got a lot to do to-morrow and need sleep."
+
+Norton stole away with great caution.  His first intention was to
+proceed straight to the city, but despite his resolution he found
+himself within a quarter of an hour gazing up at the windows of the
+Hargreave house.  "Not at home!"
+
+Quite unconscious of the fact, he was as close to death as any mortal
+man might care to be.  The policeman suddenly looming up under the arc
+lamp proved to be his savior.
+
+
+The lull made Jones doubly alert.  He was positive that they were
+preparing to strike again.  But from what direction and in what manner?
+He had not met the gift of clairvoyance so he had to wait; and waiting
+is a terrible game when perhaps death is balancing the scales.  It is
+always easier to make an assault than to await it; and it is a good
+general who always finds himself prepared.
+
+But it made his heart ache to watch the child.  She went about
+cheerfully--when any one was in the room with her.  Many a time,
+however, he had stolen to the door of her bedroom and heard the
+heart-rending sobs, a vain attempt being made to stifle them among the
+pillows.  She was only eighteen; it was first love; and first loves are
+pale, evanescent attachments.  It hurt now; but she would get over it
+presently.  Youth forgets.  Time, like water, smooths away the ragged
+places.
+
+The countess called regularly.  She was, of course, dreadfully sorry
+over what had happened.  She had heard something about his character;
+newspaper men weren't always the best.  This one was a mere fortune
+hunter; a two-faced one, at that.  She was never more surprised in her
+life than when he threw his arms around her.  And so on, and so forth,
+half lies and half truths, till the patient Jones felt like wringing
+her neck.
+
+From his vantage point the butler smiled ironically.  He could read the
+heart of the Perigoff woman as he could read the page of a book.  The
+effrontery!  And all the while he must gravely admit her and pretend
+when the blood rioted in his veins at the sight of her.  But he dared
+not swerve a single inch from the plans laid down.  It was a cup of
+bitter gall, and there was no way of avoiding the putting of it to his
+lips.  She emanated poison as nightshade emanates it, the upas tree.
+And he must bow when she entered and bow when she left!  Still, she had
+done him an indirect favor in breaking up this love business.
+
+One afternoon Braine summoned his runabout and called up two
+physicians.  When he was ushered into the deserted office of the first
+he sent his card in.  The doctor replied in person.  His face was pale
+and his hands shook.
+
+"Good afternoon," said Braine, smiling affably.
+
+The doctor eyed him like a man hypnotized.  "You ... you wished to see
+me on some particular business?"
+
+"Very particular," dryly.  "My car is outside.  Will you be so good as
+to accompany me?"
+
+The doctor slowly went into the hall for his hat and coat.  He left the
+house and got into the car with never a word of protest.
+
+"Thinking?" said Braine.
+
+"I am always thinking whenever I see your evil face.  What devilment do
+you require of me this time?"
+
+"A mere stroke of the pen."
+
+"Where are we going?"
+
+"To call on another physician of your standing," significantly.  "It is
+a great thing to have friends like you two.  Always ready to serve us,
+for the mere love of it."
+
+"There's no need of using that kind of talk to me.  You have me in the
+hollow of your hand.  Why should I bother to deny it?  I have broken
+the law.  I broke it because I was starving."
+
+"It is better to starve in freedom than to eat fat joints up the river.
+To-day it is a question of sanity."
+
+"And you want me to assist in signing away the liberty of some person
+who is perfectly sane?"
+
+"The nail on the head," urbanely.
+
+"You're a fine scoundrel!"
+
+"Not so loud!" warningly.
+
+"As loud as I please.  I am not forgetting that you need me.  I'm no
+coward.  I recognize that you hold the whip hand.  But you can send me
+to the chair before I'll crawl to you.  Now, leave me alone for a
+while."
+
+The other physician had no such qualms of conscience.  He was ready at
+all times for the generous emoluments which accrued from his dealings
+with the man Braine.
+
+The Countess Perigoff was indisposed; so it was quite in the order of
+things that she should summon physicians.
+
+There is a law in the state of New York--just or unjust, whichever you
+please--that reads that any person may be adjudged insane if the
+signatures of two registered physicians are affixed to the document.
+It does not say that these physicians shall have been proved reputable.
+
+There were, besides the physicians, a motherly looking woman and a man
+of benign countenance.  Their faces were valuable assets.  To gain
+another person's confidence is, perhaps, among the greatest human
+achievements.  A confidence man and woman in the real sense of the
+word.  In your mind's eye you could see this man carrying the
+contribution plate down the aisle on Sunday mornings, and his wife Kate
+putting her mite on the plate for the benefit of some poor, untidy
+Hottentot.
+
+On Tuesday of the following week Florence and Susan went shopping.  The
+chauffeur was a strong young fellow whom Jones relied upon.  If you pay
+a man well and hold out fine promises, you generally can trust him.  As
+their car left the corner another followed leisurely.  This second
+automobile contained Thomas Wendt and his wife Kate.  The two young
+women stopped at the great dry goods shop near the public library, and
+for the time being naturally forgot everything but the marvels which
+had come from all parts of the world.  It is as natural for a woman to
+buy as it is for a man to sell.
+
+In some manner or other Florence became separated from Susan.  She
+hunted through aisle after aisle, but could not find her; for the
+simple reason that Susan was hunting for her.  It occurred to the girl
+that Susan might have wisely concluded the best place to wait would be
+in the taxicab.  And so Florence hurried out into the street, into the
+arms of the Wendt family, who were patiently awaiting her.
+
+The trusted chauffeur had been sent around to the side entrance by the
+major domo.  The young lady had so requested, so he said.
+
+Florence struggled and called for the policeman, who came running up,
+followed by the usual idle, curious crowd.
+
+"The poor young woman is insane," said the motherly Kate, tears in her
+eyes.  The benign Thomas looked at heaven.  "We are her keepers."
+
+"It is not true," cried Florence desperately.
+
+"She has the hallucination that she is the daughter of the millionaire
+Stanley Hargreave."  And Thomas exhibited his document, which was
+perfectly legal, so far as appearances went.
+
+"Hurry up and get her off the walk.  I can't have the crowd growing any
+larger," said the policeman, convinced.
+
+So, despite her cries and protestations, Florence was hustled into the
+automobile, even the policeman lending a hand.
+
+"Poor young thing!" he said to the crowd.  "Come now, move on.  I can't
+have the walk blocked up.  Get a gait on you."
+
+He was congratulating himself upon the orderliness of the affair when a
+keen-eyed young man in the garb of a chauffeur touched his shoulder.
+
+"What's this I hear about an insane young woman?" he demanded.
+
+"She was insane, all right.  They had papers to prove it.  She kept
+crying that she was Stanley Hargreave's daughter."
+
+"My God!"  The young man struck his forehead in despair.  "You ass, she
+was Stanley Hargreave's daughter, and they've kidnaped her right under
+your nose!  What was the number of that car?"
+
+"Cut out that line of talk, young fellah; I know my business.  They had
+the proper documents."
+
+"But you hadn't brains enough to inquire whether they were genuine or
+not!  You wait!" shrilled the chauffeur.  "I'll have you broken for
+this work."  He wheeled and ran back to his car, to find Susan and the
+countess in a great state of agitation.  "They got her, they got her!
+And I swore on the book that they never should, so long as I drove the
+car."
+
+[Illustration: FLORENCE WAS PERMITTED TO WANDER ABOUT THE SHIP AS SHE
+PLEASED]
+
+Susan wept, and the countess tried in vain to console her.
+
+And when Jones was informed he frightened even the countess with the
+snarl of rage which burned across his lips.  He tore into the hall,
+seized his hat, and was gone.  Not a word of reproach did he offer to
+the chauffeur.  He understood that no one is infallible.  He found the
+blundering policeman, who now realized that he stood in for a whiff of
+the commissioner's carpet.  All he could do was to give a good
+description of the man and woman.  Word was sent broadcast through the
+city.  The police had to be informed this time.
+
+Late in the day an officer whose beat included the ferry landing at
+Hoboken said he had seen the three.  Everything had looked all right to
+him.  It was the motherly face of the one and the benign countenance of
+the other that had blinded him.
+
+At midnight Jones, haggard and with the air of one beaten, returned
+home.
+
+"No wireless yet?" asked Norton.
+
+"The _George Washington_ of the North German Lloyd does not answer.
+Something has happened to her wires; tampered with, possibly."
+
+"So long as we know they are at sea, we can remedy the evil.  They will
+not be able to land at a single port.  I have sent ten cables.  They
+can't get away from the wire.  If I could only get hold of the names of
+those damnable doctors who signed that document!  Twenty years."
+
+Jones bent his head in his hands, and Norton tramped the floor till the
+sound of his footsteps threatened to drive the moaning Susan into
+hysterics.
+
+"It is only a matter of a few days."
+
+"But can the child stand the terrors?" questioned Jones.  "Who knows
+that they may not really drive her insane?"
+
+On board the _George Washington_ every one felt extremely sorry for
+this beautiful girl.  It was a frightful misfortune to be so stricken
+at her age.
+
+"She is certainly insane," said one of the passengers, who had known
+Hargreave slightly through some banking business.  "Hargreave wasn't
+married.  He lived alone."
+
+After the second day out Florence was permitted to wander about the
+ship as she pleased.
+
+A good many of the passengers were mightily worried when they learned
+that the wireless had in some mysterious way been tampered with after
+the boat had made the open sea.  It was impossible to put about.  The
+apparatus must be fixed at sea.
+
+[Illustration: EVERYONE FELT EXTREMELY SORRY FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL GIRL]
+
+And when finally Norton's wireless caught the wires of the _George
+Washington_ he was gravely informed that the young lady referred to had
+leaped the rail off the banks at night and had been drowned.  She had
+not been missed till the following morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+It was perfectly true that Florence had cast herself into the sea.  It
+had not been an act of despair, however.  On the contrary, hope and
+courage had prompted her to leap.  The night was clear, with only a
+moderate sea running.  At the time the great ship was passing the
+banks, and almost within hail, she saw a fishing schooner riding
+gracefully at anchor.  She quite readily believed that if she remained
+on board the _George Washington_ she was lost.  She naturally forgot
+the marvel of wireless telegraphy.  No longer may a man hide at sea.
+
+So, with that quick thought which was a part of her inheritance, she
+seized the life buoy, climbed the rail and leaped far out.  As the
+great, dark, tossing sea swooped up to meet her she noted a block of
+wood bobbing up and down.  She tried to avoid it, but could not, and
+struck it head on.  Despite the blow and the shock of the chill water
+she instinctively clung to the buoy.  The wash from the mighty
+propellers tossed her about, hither and yon, from one swirl to another,
+like a chip of wood.  Then everything grew blank.
+
+Fortunately for her the master of the fishing schooner was at the time
+standing on his quarterdeck by the wheel, squinting through his glass
+at the liner and envying the ease and comfort of those on board her.
+The mate, sitting on the steps and smoking his turning-in pipe, saw the
+master lean forward suddenly, lower the glass, then raise it again.
+
+"Lord A'mighty!"
+
+"What's the matter, Cap'n?"
+
+"Jake, in God's name, come 'ere an' take a peek through this glass.
+I'm dreamin'!"
+
+The mate jumped and took the glass.  "Where away, sir?"
+
+"A p'int off th' sta'board bow.  See somethin' white bobbin' up?"
+
+"Yessir!  Looks like some one dropped a bolster 'r a piller
+overboard....  Cod's whiskers!" he broke off.
+
+"Then I ain't really seein' things," cried the master.  "Hi, y'
+lubbers," he yelled to the crew; "lower th' dory.  They's a woman in
+th' water out there.  I seen her leap th' rail.  Look alive!  Sharp's
+th' word!  Mate, you go 'long."
+
+The crew dropped their tasks and sprang for the davits, and the
+starboard dory was lowered in ship shape style.
+
+It takes a good bit of seamanship to haul a body out of the sea, into a
+dancing, bobtailed dory, when one moment it is climbing frantically
+heavenward and the next heading for the bottomless pit.  They were very
+tender with her.  They laid her out in the bottom of the boat, with the
+life buoy as a pillow, and pulled energetically for the schooner.  She
+was alive, because she breathed; but she did not stir so much as an
+eyelid.  It was a stiff bit of work, too, to land her aboard without
+adding to her injuries.  The master ordered the men to put her in his
+own bunk, where he nearly strangled her by forcing raw brandy down her
+throat.
+
+"Well, she's alive, anyhow."
+
+[Illustration: FLORENCE STEALS OUT IN THE NIGHT TO JUMP OVERBOARD]
+
+When Florence finally opened her eyes the gray of dawn lay upon the
+sea, dotted here and there by the schooners of the fleet, which seemed
+to be hanging in midair, as at the moment there was visible to the eye
+no horizon.
+
+"Don't seem t' recognize nothin'."
+
+"Mebbe she's got a fever," suggested the mate, rubbing his bristly chin.
+
+"Fever nothin'!  Not after bein' in th' water half an hour.  Mebbe she
+hit one o' them wooden floats we left.  Them dinged liners keep on
+crowdin' us," growled Barnes, with a fisherman's hate for the floating
+hotels.  "Went by without a toot.  See 'er, jes' like the banker's wife
+goin' t' church on Sunday?  A mile a minute; fog or no fog, it's all
+the same t' them.  They run us down and never stop.  What th' tarnation
+we goin' to do?  She'll haff t' stay aboard till th' run is over.  I
+can't afford t' yank up my mudhook this time o' day."
+
+"Guess she can stand three 'r four days in our company, smellin'
+oilcloths, fish, kerosene, an' punk t'bacco."
+
+"If y' don't like th' kind o' t'bacco I buy buy your own.  I ain't
+objectin' none."
+
+The mate stepped over to the bunk and gingerly ran his hand over the
+girl's head.  "Cod's whiskers, Cap'n, they's a bump as big's a cork on
+th' back o' her head!  She's struck one o' them floats all right.
+Where's the arnica?"
+
+Barnes turned to his locker and rummaged about, finally producing an
+ancient bottle and some passably clean cloth used frequently for
+bandages.  Sometimes a man grew careless with his knife or got in the
+way of a pulley block.  With blundering kindness the two men bound up
+the girl's head, and then went about their duties.
+
+For three days Florence evinced not the slightest inclination to leave
+the bunk.  She lay on her back either asleep or with her eyes staring
+at the beams above her head.  She ate just enough to keep her alive;
+and the strong black coffee did nothing more than to make her wakeful.
+No one knew what the matter was.  There was the bump, now diminished;
+but that it should leave her in this comatose state vastly puzzled the
+men.  The truth is she had suffered a slight concussion of the brain,
+and this, atop of all the worry she had had for the last few weeks, was
+sufficient to cause this blankness of the mind.
+
+The final cod was cleaned and packed away in salt, the mudhook raised,
+and the schooner _Betty_ set her sails for the southwest.  Barnes
+realized that to save the girl she must have a doctor who knew his
+business.  Mrs. Barnes would know how to care for the girl, once she
+knew what the trouble was.  There would be some news in the papers.  A
+young and beautiful woman did not jump from a big Atlantic liner
+without the newspapers getting hold of the facts.
+
+[Illustration: "A YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL WOMAN DID NOT JUMP FROM A BIG
+ATLANTIC LINER WITHOUT THE NEWSPAPERS GETTING HOLD OF THE FACTS"]
+
+A fair wind carried the _Betty_ into her haven, and shortly after
+Florence was sleeping peacefully in a feather bed, ancient, it is true,
+but none the less soft and inviting.  In all this time she had not
+spoken a single word.
+
+"The poor young thing!" murmured the motherly Mrs. Barnes.  "What
+beautiful hair!  Oh, John, I wish you would give up the sea.  I hate
+it.  It is terrible.  I am always watching you in my mind's eye, in
+calm weather, in storms.  Pieces of wrecks come ashore, and I always
+wonder over the death and terror back of them."
+
+"Don't y' worry none about me, Betty.  I never take no chances.  Now
+I'm goin' int' th' village an' bring back th' sawbones.  He'll tell us
+what t' do."
+
+The village doctor shook his grizzled head gravely.
+
+"She's been hurt and shocked at the same time.  It will be many days
+before she comes around to herself.  Just let her do as she pleases.
+Only keep an eye on her so that she doesn't wander off and get lost.
+I'll watch the newspapers and if I come across anything which bears
+upon the case I'll notify you."
+
+But he searched the newspapers in vain, for the simple fact that he did
+not think to glance over the old ones.
+
+The village took a good deal of interest in the affair.  They gossiped
+about it and strolled out to the Barnes' cottage to satisfy their
+curiosity.  One thing was certain to their simple minds: some day
+Barnes would get a great sum of money for his kindness.  They had read
+about such things in the family story paper.  She was a rich man's
+daughter; the ring on the unknown's finger would have fitted out a
+fleet.
+
+Florence was soon able to walk about.  Ordinary conversation she seemed
+to understand; but whenever the past was broached she would shake her
+head with frowning eyes.  Her main diversion consisted of sitting on
+the sand dunes and gazing out at sea.
+
+One day a stranger came to town.  He said he represented a life
+insurance company and was up here from Boston to take a little
+vacation.  He sat on the hotel porch that evening surrounded by an
+admiring audience.  The stranger had been all over the world, so it
+seemed.  He spoke familiarly of St. Petersburg, Vladivostok, Shanghai,
+as the villagers--some of them--might have spoken of Boston.
+
+There were one or two old-timers among the audience.  They had been to
+all these parts.  The stranger knew what he was telling about.  After
+telling of his many voyages he asked if there was a good bathing beach
+near by.  He was told that he would find the most suitable spot near
+Captain Barnes' cottage just outside the village.
+
+"An' say, Mister, seen anythin' in th' papers about a missin' young
+woman?" asked some one.
+
+"Missing young woman?  What's that?"
+
+The man told the story of Florence's leap into the sea and her
+subsequent arrival at the cape.
+
+"That's funny," said the stranger.  "I don't recollect reading about
+any young woman being lost at sea.  But those big liners are always
+keeping such things under cover.  Hoodoos the ship, they say, and turns
+prospective passengers to other lines.  It hurts business.  What's the
+young girl look like?"
+
+Florence was described minutely.  The stranger teetered in his chair
+and smoked.  Finally he spoke.
+
+"She probably was insane.  That's the way generally with insane people.
+They can't see water or look off a tall building without wanting to
+jump.  My business is insurance, and we've got the thing figured pretty
+close to the ground.  They used to get the best of us on the suicide
+game.  A man would take out a large policy to-day and to-morrow he'd
+blow his head off, and we'd have to pay his wife.  But nowadays a
+policy is not worth the paper it's written on if a man commits suicide
+under two years."
+
+"You ain't tryin' to insure anybody in town, are you?"
+
+"Oh, no.  No work for me when I'm on my vacation.  Well, I'm going to
+bed; and to-morrow morning I'll go out to Captain Barnes' beach and
+have a good swim.  I'm no sailor, but I like water."
+
+[Illustration: "THE POOR YOUNG THING," MURMURED THE MOTHERLY MRS.
+BARNES]
+
+He honestly enjoyed swimming.  Early the next morning he was in the
+water, frolicking about as playfully as a boy.  He had all the time in
+the world.  Over his shoulder he saw two women wandering down toward
+the beach.  Deeper he went, farther out.  He was a bold swimmer, but
+that did not prevent a sudden and violent attack of cramps.  And it was
+a rare piece of irony that the poor girl should save the life of that
+scoundrel who was without pity or mercy.  As she saw his face a
+startled frown marred her brow.  But she could not figure out the
+puzzle.  Had she ever seen the man before?  She did not know, she could
+not tell.  Why could not she remember?  Why must her poor head ache so
+when she tried to pierce the wall of darkness which surrounded her
+mentally?
+
+The man thanked her feebly, but not in his heart.  When he had
+sufficiently recovered he returned to the village and sought the
+railway station, where the Western Union had its office.
+
+"I want to send a code message to my firm.  Do you think you can follow
+it?"
+
+"I can try," said the operator.
+
+The code was really Slav; and when the long message was signed it was
+signed by the name Vroon.
+
+The day after the news came that Florence had jumped overboard off the
+banks, Vroon with a dozen other men had started out to comb all the
+fishing villages along the New England coast.  Somewhere along the way
+he felt confident that he would learn whether the girl was dead or
+alive.  If she was dead then the game was a draw, but if she was alive
+there was still a fighting chance for the Black Hundred.  He had had
+some idea of remaining in the village and accomplishing the work
+himself; but after deliberation he concluded that it was important
+enough for Braine himself to take a hand in.  So the following night he
+departed for Boston, from there to New York.  He proceeded at once to
+the apartment of the countess, where Braine declared that he himself
+would go to the obscure village and claim Florence as his own child.
+But to insure absolute success they would charter Morse's yacht and
+steam right up into the primitive harbor.
+
+When Vroon left the apartment Norton saw him.  He was a man of
+impulses, and he had found by experience that first impulses are
+generally the best.  He did not know who Vroon was.  Any man who called
+on the Countess Perigoff while Braine was with her would be worth
+following.
+
+On the other hand, Vroon recognized the reporter instantly and with
+that ever-ready and alert mind of his set about to lure the young man
+into a trap out of which he might not easily come.
+
+Norton decided to follow his man.  He might be going on a wild-goose
+chase, he reasoned; still his first impulses had hitherto served him
+well.  He looked care-worn.  He was convinced that Florence was dead,
+despite the assertions of Jones to the contrary.  He had gone over all
+the mishaps which had taken place and he was now absolutely convinced
+that his whilom friend Braine and the Countess Perigoff were directly
+concerned.  Florence had either been going to or coming from the
+apartment.  And that memorable day of the abduction the countess had
+been in the dry goods shop.
+
+Vroon took a down-town surface car, and Norton took the same.  He sat
+huddled in a corner, never suspecting that Vroon was watching him from
+a corner of his eye.  Norton was not keen to-day.  The thought of
+Florence kept running through his head.
+
+The car stopped and Vroon got off.  He led Norton a winding course
+which at length ended at the door of a tenement building.  Vroon
+entered.  Norton paused wondering what next to do, now that his man had
+reached his destination.  Well, since he had followed him all this
+distance he must make an effort to find out who he was and what he was
+going to do.  Cautiously he entered the hallway.  As he was about to
+lay his hand on the newel post of the dilapidated stairs the floor
+dropped from under his feet and he was precipitated into the cellar.
+
+This tenement belonged to the Black Hundred; it concealed a thousand
+doors and a hundred traps.  Its history was as dark as its hallways.
+
+When Vroon and his companion, who had been waiting for him, descended
+into the cellar they found the reporter insensible.  They bound,
+blindfolded, and gagged him.
+
+"Saunders," said Vroon, "you tell Corrigan that I've a sailor for him
+to-night, and that I want this sailor booked for somewhere south of the
+equator.  Tell him to say to the master that this fellow is ugly and
+disobedient.  A tramp freighter, whose captain is a bully.  Do you
+understand me?"
+
+"I get you.  But there's no need to go to Corrigan this trip.  Bannock
+is in port and sails to-night for Norway.  That's far enough."
+
+"Bannock?  The very man.  Well, Mr. Norton, reporter and amateur
+detective, I guess we've got you fast enough this time.  You may or may
+not come back alive.  Go and bring around a taxi; some one you can
+trust.  I'll dope the reporter while you're gone."
+
+Long hours afterward Norton opened his aching eyes.  He could hardly
+move and his head buzzed abominably.  What had happened?  What was the
+meaning of this slow rise and fall of his bed?  Shanghaied?
+
+"Come out o' that now, ye skulker!" roared a voice down the
+companionway.
+
+[Illustration: "COME OUT O' THAT NOW"]
+
+"Shanghaied!" the reporter murmured.  He sat up and ran through his
+pockets.  Not a sou-markee, not a match even; and a second glance told
+him that the clothes he wore were not his own.  "They've landed me this
+time.  Shanghaied!  What the devil am I going to do?"
+
+"D'ye hear me?" bawled the strident voice again.
+
+Norton looked about desperately for some weapon of defense.  He saw an
+engineer's spanner on the floor by the bunk across the way, and with no
+small physical effort he succeeded in obtaining it.  He stood up, his
+hand behind his back.
+
+"All right, me bucko!  I'll come down an' git ye!"
+
+A pair of enormous boots began to appear down the companionway, and
+there gradually rose up from them a man as wide as a church door and as
+deep as a well.
+
+"Wait a moment," said Norton, gripping the spanner.  "Let us have a
+perfect understanding right off the bat."
+
+"We're going to have it, matey.  Don't ye worry none."
+
+Norton raised the spanner, and, dizzy as he was, faced this seafaring
+Hercules courageously.
+
+"I've been shanghaied, and you know it.  Where are we bound?"
+
+"Copenhagen."
+
+"Well, for a month or more you'll beat me up whenever the opportunity
+offers.  But I merely wish to warn you that if you do you'll find a
+heap of trouble waiting for you the next time you drop your mudhook in
+North America."
+
+"Is that so?" said the giant, eying the spanner and the shaking hand
+that held it aloft.
+
+"It is.  I'll take your orders and do the best I can, because you've
+got the upper hand.  But, God is witness, you'll pay for every needless
+blow you strike.  Now what do you want me to do?"
+
+"Lay down that spanner an' come on deck, I'll tell ye what t' do.  I
+was goin' t' whale th' daylights out o' ye; but ye're somethin' av a
+man.  Drop the spanner first."
+
+Norton hesitated.  As lithe as a tiger the bulk of a man sprang at him
+and crushed him to the floor, wrenching away the spanner.  Then the
+giant took Norton by the scruff of his neck and banged him up the steps
+to the deck.
+
+"I ain't goin' t' hurt ye.  I had t' show ye that no spanner ever
+bothered Mike Bannock.  Now, d' know what a cook's galley is?"
+
+[Illustration: "I AIN'T GOIN' T' HURT YE"]
+
+"I do," said Norton, breathing hard.
+
+"Well, hike there an' start in with peelin' spuds, an' don't waste 'em
+neither.  That'll be all fer th' present.  Ye were due for a wallopin'
+but I kinda like yer spunk."
+
+So Jim stumbled down to the cook's galley and grimly set to work at the
+potatoes.  It might have been far worse.  But here he was, likely to be
+on the high seas for months, and no way of notifying Jones what had
+happened.  The outlook was anything but cheerful.  But a vague hope
+awoke in his heart.  If they were still after him might it not signify
+that Florence lived.
+
+Meantime Braine had not been idle.  According to Vroon the girl's
+memory was in bad shape; so he had not the least doubt of bringing her
+back to New York without mishap.  Once he had her there the game would
+begin in earnest.  He played his cards exceedingly well.  Steaming up
+into the little fishing harbor with a handsome yacht in itself would
+allay any distrust.  And he wore a capital disguise, too.  Everything
+went well till he laid his hand on Florence's shoulder.  She gave a
+startled cry and ran over to Barnes, clinging to him wildly.
+
+"No, no!" she cried.
+
+"Now what, my child?" asked the sailor.
+
+She shook her head.  Her aversion was inexplicable.
+
+"Come, my dear; can't you see that it is your father?"  Braine turned
+to the captain.  "She has been like this for a year.  Heaven knows if
+she'll ever be in her right mind again," sadly.  "I was giving her an
+ocean voyage, with the kindest nurses possible, and yet she jumped
+overboard.  Come, Florence."
+
+The girl wrapped her arms all the tighter around Barnes' neck.
+
+An idea came into the old sailor's head.  "Of course, sir, ye've got
+proof thet she's your daughter?"
+
+"Proof?"  Braine was taken aback.
+
+"Yes; somethin' t' prove that you're her father.  I got skinned out of
+a sloop once because I took a man's word at its face value.  Black an'
+white, an' on paper, says I, hereafter."
+
+"But I never thought of such a thing," protested Braine, beginning to
+lose his patience.  "I can't risk sending to New York for documents.
+She is my daughter, and you will find it will not pay to take this
+peculiar stand."
+
+"In black an' white, 'r y' can't have her."
+
+Braine thereupon rushed forward to seize Florence.  Barnes swung
+Florence behind him.
+
+"I guess she'll stay here a leetle longer, sir."
+
+Time was vital, and this obstinacy made Braine furious.
+
+He reached again for Florence.
+
+"Clear out o' here, 'r show your authority," growled Barnes.
+
+"She goes with me, or you'll regret it."
+
+"All right.  But I guess th' law won't hurt me none.  I'm in my rights.
+There's the door, mister."
+
+"I refuse to go without her!"
+
+Barnes sighed.  He was on land a man of peace, but there was a limit to
+his patience.  He seized Braine by the shoulders and hustled him out of
+the house.
+
+"Bring your proofs, mister, an' nothin' more'll be said; but till y'
+bring 'em, keep away from this cottage."
+
+And, simple-minded sailor that he was, he thought this settled the
+matter.
+
+That night he kept his ears open for unusual sounds, but he merely
+wasted his night's rest.  Quite naturally, he reckoned that the
+stranger would make his attempt at night.  Indeed, he made it in broad
+daylight, with Barnes not a hundred yards away, calking a dory whose
+seams had sprung a leak.  Braine had Florence upon the chartered yacht
+before the old man realized what had happened.  He never saw Florence
+again; but one day, months later, he read all about her in a newspaper.
+
+Florence fought; but she was weak, and so the conquest was easy.
+Braine was kind enough, now that he had her safe.  He talked to her,
+but she merely stared at the receding coast.
+
+[Illustration: FLORENCE FOUGHT BUT SHE WAS WEAK AND SO THE CONQUEST WAS
+EASY]
+
+"All right; don't talk if you don't want to.  Here," to one of the men,
+"take her to the cabin and keep her there.  But don't you touch her.
+I'll break you if you do.  Put her in the cabin and guard the door; at
+least keep an eye on it.  She may take it into her head to jump
+overboard."
+
+Even the temporarily demented are not without a species of cunning.
+Florence had never seen Braine till he appeared at the Barnes cottage.
+Yet she revolted at the touch of his hand.  On the second day out
+toward New York she found a box of matches and blithely set fire to her
+cabin, walked out into the corridor and thence to the deck.  When the
+fire was discovered it had gained too much headway to be stopped.  The
+yacht was doomed.  They put off in the boats and for half a day drifted
+helplessly.
+
+Fate has everything mapped out like a game of chess.  You move a pawn,
+and bang goes your bishop, or your knight, or your king; or she lets
+you almost win a game, and then checkmates you.  But there is one thing
+to be said in her favor--rail at her how we will, she is always giving
+odds to the innocent.
+
+
+Mike Bannock was in the pilothouse, looking over his charts, when the
+lookout in the crow's nest sang out: "Two boats adrift off the port
+bow, sir!"  And Bannock, who was a first-class sailor, although a rough
+one, shouted down the tube to the engine room.  The freighter came to a
+halt in about ten minutes.  The castaways saw that they had been noted,
+and pulled gallantly at the oars.
+
+There are some things which science, well advanced as it is, can not
+explain.  Among them is the shock which cuts off the past and the
+countershock which reawakens memory.  They may write treatise after
+treatise and expound, but they never succeed in truly getting beyond
+that dark wall of mystery.
+
+At the sound of Jim Norton's voice and at the sight of his face--for
+subconsciously she must have been thinking of him all the while--a
+great blinding heat-wave seemed to burn across her eyes, and when the
+effect passed away she was herself again.  A wild glance at her
+surroundings convinced her that both she and her lover were in danger.
+"Keep back," whispered Jim.  "Don't recognize me."
+
+"They believe that I've lost my mind, and I'll keep that idea in their
+heads.  Sometime to-night I'll find a chance to talk to you."
+
+It took a good deal of cautious maneuvering to bring about the meeting.
+
+"They shanghaied me.  And I thought you dead!  It was all wrong.  It
+was a trick of that Perigoff woman, and it succeeded.  Girl, girl, I
+love you better than life!"
+
+"I know it now," she said, and she kissed him.  "Has my father appeared
+yet?"
+
+[Illustration: "I KNOW IT NOW," SHE SAID, AND SHE KISSED HIM]
+
+"No."
+
+"Do you know anything at all about him?" sadly.
+
+"I thought I did.  It's all a jumble to me.  But beware of the man who
+brought you here.  He is the head of all our troubles; and if he knew I
+was on board he'd kill me out of hand.  He'd have to."
+
+Braine offered Bannock $1,000 to turn back as far as Boston; and as
+Bannock had all the time in the world, carrying no perishable goods, he
+consented.  But he never could quite understand what followed.  He had
+put Florence and Braine in the boat and landed them; but when he went
+down to see if Braine had left anything behind, he found that
+individual bound and gagged in his bunk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+When Jones received the telegram that Florence was safe, the iron nerve
+of the man broke down.  The suspense had been so keenly terrible that
+the sudden reaction left him almost hysterically weak.  Three weeks of
+waiting, waiting.  Not even the scoundrel and his wife who had been the
+principal actors in the abduction had been found.  From a great ship in
+midocean they had disappeared.  Doubtless they had hidden among the
+immigrants, who, for little money, would have fooled all the officers
+on board.  There was no doubt in Jones' mind that the pair had landed
+safely at Madrid.
+
+As for Susan, she did have hysterics.  She went about the room, wailing
+and laughing and wringing her hands.  You would have thought by her
+actions that Florence had just died.  The sight of her stirred the
+saturnine lips of the butler into a smile.  But he did not remonstrate
+with her.  In fact, he rather envied her freedom in emotion.  Man can
+not let go in that fashion; it is a sign of weakness; and he dared not
+let even Susan see any sign of weakness in him.
+
+So the reporter had found her, and she was safe and sound on her way to
+New York?  Knowing by this time something of the reporter's courage, he
+was eager to learn how the event had come about.  When he had not had a
+telephone message from Norton in forty-eight hours, he had decided that
+the Black Hundred had finally succeeded in getting hold of him.  It had
+been something of a blow; for while he looked with disfavor upon the
+reporter's frank regard for his charge, he appreciated the fact that
+Norton was a staff to lean on, and had behind him all the power of the
+press, which included the privilege of going everywhere even if one
+could not always get back.
+
+As he folded the telegram and put it into his pocket, he observed the
+man with the opera glasses over the way.  He shrugged.  Well, let him
+watch till his eyes dropped out of his head; he would only see that
+which was intended for his eyes.  Still, it was irksome to feel that no
+matter when or where you moved, watching eyes observed and chronicled
+these movements.
+
+Suddenly, not being devoid of a sense of dry humor, Jones stepped over
+to the telephone and called up her highness the Countess Perigoff.
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+He was forced to admit, however reluctantly, that the woman had a
+marvelously fine speaking voice.
+
+"It is Jones, madam."
+
+"Jones?"
+
+"Mr. Hargreave's butler, madam."
+
+"Oh!  You have news of Florence?"
+
+"Yes."  It will be an embarrassing day for humanity when some one
+invents a photographic apparatus by which two persons at the two ends
+of the telephone may observe the facial expressions of each other.
+
+"What is it?  Tell me quickly."
+
+"Florence has been found, and she is on her way back to New York.  She
+was found by Mr. Norton, the reporter."
+
+"I am so glad!  Shall I come up at once and have you tell me the whole
+amazing story?"
+
+"It would be useless, madam, for I know nothing except what I learned
+from a telegram I have just received.  But no doubt some time this
+evening you might risk a call."
+
+"Ring up the instant she returns.  Did she say what train?"
+
+"No, madam," lied Jones, smiling.
+
+He hung up the receiver and stared at the telephone as if he would
+force his gaze in and through it to the woman at the other end.  Flesh
+and blood!  Well, greed was stronger than that.  Treacherous cat!  Let
+her play; let her weave her nets, dig her pits.  The day would come,
+and it was not far distant, when she would find that the mild-eyed
+mongoose was just as deadly as the cobra, and far more cunning.
+
+The heads of the Black Hundred must be destroyed.  Those were the
+orders.  What good to denounce them, to send them to a prison from
+which, with the aid of money and a tremendous secret political pull,
+they might readily find their way out?  They must be exterminated, as
+one kills off the poisonous plague rats of the Orient.  A woman?  In
+the law of reprisal there was no sex.
+
+Shortly after the telephone episode (which rather puzzled the countess)
+she received a wire from Braine, which announced the fact that Florence
+and Norton had escaped and were coming to New York on train No. 25, and
+advising her to meet the train en route.  She had to fly about to do it.
+
+[Illustration: HE HAD PUT FLORENCE AND BRAINE IN THE BOAT AND LANDED
+THEM]
+
+When Captain Bannock released Braine, he had been in no enviable frame
+of mind.  Tricked, fooled by the girl, whose mind was as unclouded as
+his own!  She had succeeded in bribing a coal stoker, and had taken him
+unawares.  The man had donned the disguise he had laid out for shore
+approach, and the blockheaded Bannock had never suspected.  He had not
+recognized Norton at all.  It was only when Bannock explained the
+history of the shanghaied stoker that he realized his real danger.
+Norton!  He must be pushed off the board.  After this episode he could
+no longer keep up the pretense of being friendly.  Norton, by a rare
+stroke of luck, had forced him out into the open.  So be it.
+Self-preservation is in nowise looked upon as criminal.  The law may
+have its ideas about it, but the individual recognizes no law but its
+own.  It was Braine whom he loved and admired, or Norton whom he hated
+as a dog with rabies hates water.  With Norton free, he would never
+again dare return to New York openly.  This meddling reporter aimed at
+his ease and elegance.
+
+He left the freighter as soon as a boat could carry him ashore.  The
+fugitives would make directly for the railroad, and thither he went at
+top speed, to arrive ten minutes too late.
+
+"Free!" said Florence, as the train began to increase its speed.
+
+Norton reached over and patted her hand.  Then he sat back with a
+sudden shock of dismay.  He dived a hand into a pocket, into another
+and another.  The price of the telegram he had sent to Jones was all he
+had had in the world; and he had borrowed that from a friendly stoker.
+In the excitement he had forgotten all about such a contingency as the
+absolute need of money.
+
+"Florence, I'm afraid we're going to have trouble with the conductor
+when he comes."
+
+"Why?"
+
+He pulled out his pockets suggestively.  "Not a postage stamp.  They'll
+put us off at the next station.  And," with a glance in the little
+mirror between the two windows, "I shouldn't blame them a bit."  He was
+unshaven, he was wearing the suit substituted for his own; and
+Florence, sartorially, was not much better off.
+
+She smiled, blushed, stood up, and turned her back to him.  Then she
+sat down again.  In her hand she held a small dilapidated roll of
+banknotes.
+
+"I had them with me when they abducted me," she said.  "Besides, this
+ring is worth something."
+
+"Thank the Lord!" he exclaimed, relievedly.
+
+So there was nothing more to do but be happy; and happy they were.
+They were quite oblivious to the peculiar interest they aroused among
+the other passengers.  This unshaven young man, in his ragged coat and
+soiled jersey; this beautiful young girl, in a wrinkled homespun, her
+glorious blond hair awry; and the way they looked at each other during
+those lulls in conversation peculiar to lovers the world over,
+impressed the other passengers with the idea that something very
+unusual had happened to these two.
+
+The Pullman conductor was not especially polite; but money was money,
+and the stockholders, waiting for their dividends, made it impossible
+for him to reject it.  The regular conductor paid them no more
+attention than to grumble over changing a twenty-dollar bill.
+
+So, while these two were hurrying on to New York, the plotters were
+hurrying east to meet them.  The two trains met and stopped at the same
+station about eighty miles from New York.  The countess, accompanied by
+Vroon, who kept well in the background, entered the car occupied by the
+two castaways.
+
+In the mirror at the rear of the car Norton happened to cast an idle
+glance, and he saw the countess.  Vroon, however, escaped his eye.
+
+"Be careful, Florence," he said.  "The countess is in the car.  The
+game begins again.  Pretend that you suspect nothing.  Pretty quick
+work on their part.  And that's all the more reason why we should play
+the comedy well.  Here she comes.  She will recognize you, throw her
+arms around you, and show all manner of effusiveness.  Just keep your
+head and play the game."
+
+"She lied about you to me."
+
+"No matter."
+
+"Oh!" cried the countess.  She seized Florence in a wild embrace.  She
+was an inimitable actress, and Norton could not help admiring her.
+"Your butler telephoned me!  I ran to the first train out.  And here
+you are, back safe and sound!  It is wonderful.  Tell me all about it.
+What an adventure!  And, good heavens, Mr. Norton, where did you get
+those clothes?  Did you find her and rescue her?  What a newspaper
+story you'll be able to make out of it all!  Now, tell me just what
+happened."  She sat down on the arm of Florence's chair.  The girl had
+steeled her nerves against the touch of her.  And yet she was
+beautiful!  How could any one so beautiful be so wicked?
+
+"Well, it began like this," began Florence; and she described her
+adventures, omitting, to be sure, Braine's part in it.
+
+She had reached that part where they had been rescued by Captain
+Bannock when a thundering, grinding crash struck the words from her
+lips.  The three of them were flung violently to one side of the car
+amid splintering wood, tinkling glass, and the shriek of steel against
+steel.  A low wail of horror rose and died away as the car careened
+over on its side.  The three were rendered unconscious and were huddled
+together on the floor, under the uprooted chairs.
+
+Vroon had escaped with only a slight cut on the hand from flying glass.
+He climbed over the chairs and passengers with a single object in view.
+He saw that all three he was interested in were insensible.  He quickly
+examined them and saw that they had not received serious injuries.  He
+had but little time.  The countess and Norton would have to take their
+chance with the other passengers.  Resolutely he stooped and lifted
+Florence in his arms and crawled out of the car with her.  It was a
+difficult task, but he managed it.  Outside, in the confusion, no one
+paid any attention to him.  So he threw the unconscious girl over his
+shoulder and staggered on toward the road.
+
+It was fortunate that the accident had occurred where it did.  Five
+miles beyond was the station marked for the arrest of Norton as an
+abductor and the taking in charge of Florence as a rebellious girl who
+had run away from her parents.  If he could only reach the Swede's hut,
+where his confederates were in waiting, the game would then be his.
+
+After struggling along for half an hour a carriage was spied by Vroon,
+and he hailed it when it reached his side.
+
+"What's the trouble, mister?" asked the farmer.
+
+"A wreck on the railroad.  My daughter is badly hurt.  I must take her
+to the nearest village.  How far is it?"
+
+"About three miles."
+
+"I'll give you twenty dollars for the use of that rig of yours."
+
+"Can't do it, mister."
+
+"But it's a case of humanity, sir!" indignantly.  "You are refusing to
+aid the unfortunate."
+
+The farmer thought it over for a moment.  "All right.  You can have the
+buggy for twenty dollars.  When you get to the village take the nag to
+Doc Sanders' livery.  He'll know what to do."
+
+"Thank you.  Help me in with her."
+
+Vroon drove away without the least intention of going toward the
+village.  As a result, when Florence came to her senses she found
+herself surrounded by strange and ominous faces.  At first she thought
+they had taken her from the wreck out of kindness; but when she saw the
+cold, impassive face of the man Vroon she closed her eyes and lay back
+in the chair.  Well, ill and weak as she was, they should find that she
+was not without a certain strength.
+
+In the meantime Norton revived and looked about in vain for Florence.
+He searched among the crowd of terrified passengers, the hurt and the
+unharmed, but she was not to be found.  He ran back to the countess and
+helped her out of the broken car.
+
+"Where is Florence?" she asked dazedly.
+
+"God knows!  Here, come over and sit down by the fence till I see if
+there is a field telegraph."
+
+They had already erected one, and his message went off with a batch of
+others.  This time he was determined not to trust to chance.  The shock
+may have brought back Florence's recent mental disorder, and she may
+have wandered off without knowing what she was doing.  On the other
+hand, she may have been carried off.  And against such a contingency he
+must be fortified.  Money!  The curse of God was upon it; it was the
+trail of the serpent, spreading poison in its wake.
+
+By and by the countess was able to walk; and, supporting her, he led
+her to the road, along which they walked slowly for at least an hour.
+They might very well have waited for the relief train.  But he could
+not stand the thought of inactivity.  The countess had her choice of
+staying behind or going with him.  He hated the woman, but he could not
+refuse her aid.  She had a cut on the side of her head, and she limped
+besides.
+
+They stopped at the first farmhouse, explained what had happened, and
+the mistress urged them to enter.  She had seen no one, and certainly
+not a young woman.  She must have wandered off in another direction.
+She ran into the kitchen for a basin and towel and proceeded to patch
+the countess' hurts.
+
+The latter was extremely uneasy.  That she should be under obligation
+to Norton galled her.  There was a spark of conscience left in her
+soul.  She had tried to destroy him, and he had been kind to her.  Was
+he a fool or was he deep, playing a game as shrewd as her own?  She
+could not tell.  Where was Vroon?  Had he carried Florence off?
+
+An hour later a man came in.
+
+"Hullo!  More folks from the wreck?"
+
+"Where's the horse and buggy, Jake?" his wife asked.
+
+"Rented it to a man whose daughter was hurt.  He went to the village."
+
+"Will you describe the daughter?" asked Norton.
+
+The countess twisted her fingers.
+
+The farmer rudely described Florence.
+
+"Have you another horse and a saddle?"
+
+"What's your hurry?"
+
+"I'll tell you later.  What I want now is the horse."
+
+"What is to become of me?" asked the countess.
+
+"You will be in good hands," he answered briefly.  "I am going to find
+out what has become of Florence.  Is there a deserted farmhouse
+hereabouts?" he asked of the farmer.
+
+"Not that I recollect."
+
+"Why yes, there is, Jake.  There's that old hut about two miles up the
+fork," volunteered the wife.  "Where the Swede died last winter."
+
+"By jingo!  I'm going into the village and see if that man brought in
+the rig."
+
+"But get my horse first.  My name is James Norton, and I am on the
+_Blade_ in New York.  Which way do I go?"
+
+"First turn to the left.  Come on; I'll get the horse for you."
+
+Once the horse was saddled, Norton set off at a run.  He was unarmed;
+he forgot all about this fact.  His one thought was to find the woman
+he loved.  He was not afraid of meeting a dozen men, not while his
+present fury lasted.
+
+And he fell into an ambush within a hundred yards of his goal.  They
+dragged him off the horse and buffeted and mishandled him into the hut.
+
+"Both of them!" said Vroon, rubbing his hands.
+
+"I know you, you Russian rat!" cried Norton.  "And if I ever get out of
+this I'll kill you out of hand!  Damn you!"
+
+"Oh, yes; talk, talk; but it never hurts any one," jeered Vroon.
+"You'll never have the chance to kill me out of hand, as you say.
+Besides, do you know my face?"
+
+"I do.  The mask doesn't matter.  You're the man who had me shanghaied.
+The voice is enough."
+
+"Very good.  That's what I wished to know.  That's your death warrant.
+We'll do it like they used to do at the old Academy; tie you to the
+railroad track.  We shall not hurt you at all.  If some engine runs
+over you heaven is witness we did not guide the engine.  Remember the
+story of the boy and the cat?" with sinister amiability.  "The boy said
+he wasn't pulling the cat's tail, he was only holding it; the cat did
+the pulling.  Bring him along, men.  Time is precious, and we have a
+good deal to do before night settles down.  Come on with him.  The
+track is only a short distance."
+
+"Jim, Jim!" cried Florence in anguish.
+
+"Never you mind, girl; they're only bluffing.  They won't dare."
+
+"You think so?" said Vroon.  "Wait and see."  He turned upon Florence.
+"He is your lover.  Do you wish him to die?"
+
+"No, no!"
+
+"We promise to give him his freedom twelve hours from now on condition
+that you tell where that money is."
+
+"Florence!" warned Norton.
+
+Vroon struck him on the mouth.  "Be silent, you scum!"
+
+"It is in the chest Jones, the butler, threw into the sound," she said
+bravely.  And so it might be for all she knew.
+
+Vroon laughed.  "We know about where that is."
+
+"Florence, say nothing on my account.  They are not the kind of men who
+keep their word."
+
+"Eh?" snarled Vroon.  "We'll see about that."  He glanced at his watch.
+"In half an hour the freight comes along.  It may become stalled at the
+wreck.  But it will serve."
+
+Norton knew very well that if need said must they would not hesitate to
+execute a melodramatic plan of this character.  It was the way of the
+Slav; they had to make crime abnormal in order to enjoy it.  They could
+very well have knocked him on the head then and there and have done
+with him.  But the time used in conveying him to the railroad might
+prove his salvation.  Nearly four hours had passed since the sending of
+the telegram to Jones.
+
+They bound Florence and left her seated in the chair.  As soon as they
+were gone she rolled to the floor.  She was able to right herself to
+her knees, and after a torturous five minutes reached the fireplace.
+She burnt her hands and wrists, but the blaze was the only knife
+obtainable.  She was free.
+
+[Illustration: THEY BOUND FLORENCE AND LEFT HER SEATED IN THE CHAIR]
+
+
+Jones arrived with half a dozen policemen.  Vroon alone escaped.
+
+The butler caught Florence in his arms and nearly crushed the breath
+out of her.  And she was so glad to see him that she kissed him half a
+dozen times.  What if he was her father's butler?  He was brave and
+loyal and kind.
+
+"They tied him to the track," she cried.  "Look at my wrists!"  The
+butler did so, and kissed them tenderly.  "And I saved him."
+
+Jones stretched out a hand over Florence's shoulder.  "When the time
+comes," he said; "when the right time comes and my master's enemies are
+confounded.  But always the rooks, never the hawks, do we catch.  God
+bless you, Norton!  I don't know what I should have done without you."
+
+"When a chap's in love," began Norton, embarrassedly.
+
+"I know, I know," interrupted Jones.  "The second relief train is
+waiting.  Let us hurry back.  I shan't feel secure till we are once
+more in the house."
+
+So, arm in arm, the three of them went down the tracks to the hand-car
+which had brought the police.
+
+And now for the iron-bound chest at the bottom of the sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A dipsy-chanty, if you please; of sailormen in jerseys and tarry caps,
+of rolling gaits, strong tobacco and diverse profanity; of cutters, and
+blunt-nosed schooners, and tramps, canvas and steam, some of them
+honest, some of them shady, and some of them pirates of the first water
+who did not find it necessary to hoist aloft the skull and bones.  The
+seas are dotted with them.  They remind you of the once prosperous
+merchant, run down at the heel, who slinks along the side streets,
+ashamed to meet those he knew in the past.  You never hear them
+mentioned in the maritime news, which is the society column of the
+ships; you know of their existence only by the bleached bones of them,
+strewn along the coast.
+
+You who crave adventures on high seas, you purchase a ticket, a steamer
+chair, and a couple of popular novels, go on board to the blare of a
+very indifferent brass band, and believe you are adventuring; when, as
+a matter of fact, you are about to spend a dull week or a fortnight on
+a water hotel, where the most exciting thing is the bugle's call to
+meals or the discovery of a card sharp in the smoking-room.  Take a
+real ship, go as supercargo, to the South Seas; take the side streets
+of the ocean, and learn what it can do with hurricanes, typhoons,
+blistering calms, and men's souls.  There will be adventure enough
+then.  If you are a weakling, either you are made strong, or you die.
+
+An honest ship, but run down at the heel, rode at anchor in the sound,
+a fourth-rater of the hooker breed; that is, her principal line of
+business was hauling barges up and down the coast.  When she could not
+pick up enough barges to make it pay, why she'd go gallivanting down to
+Cuba for bales of tobacco or even to the Bermudas for the
+heaven-smelling onion.  To-day she was an onion ship; which precludes
+any idea of adventure.  She was about four thousand tons, and her
+engines were sternward and not amidship.  She carried two masts and a
+half-dozen hoist booms, and the only visible sign of anything new on
+her was her bowsprit.  This was new doubtless because she had poked her
+nose too far into her last slip.
+
+Her crew was orderly and tractable.  There were shore drunks, to be
+sure, because they were sailors; but they were at work.  They moved
+about briskly, for they were on the point of sailing for the
+Bahamas--perhaps for more onions.  Presently the windlass creaked and
+shrilled, and the blobby links, much in need of tar paint, red as fish
+gills, clattered down into the bow.  Sometimes they painted the chain
+as it came over; but paint was costly, and this was done only when the
+anchor threatened to stay on the bottom.
+
+There was a sailor among this crew, and he went by the name of Steve
+Blossom; and he was one of his kind.  A grimy dime novel protruded
+rakishly from his hip pocket, and his right cheek was swollen as with
+the toothache, due, probably, to a generous "chaw" of Seaman's Delight.
+He was a real tobacco chewer, for he rarely spat.  He was as peaceful
+as a backwater bay in summer; non-argumentative and passive, he stood
+his watch in fair weather and foul.
+
+No one gave the anchor any more attention after it came to rest.  The
+great city over the way was fairy-like in its haziness and softened
+lines.  It was the poetry of angles, of shafts and spars of stone; and
+Steve Blossom, having a moment to himself, leaned against the rail and
+stared regretfully.  He had been generously drunk the night before, and
+it was a pleasant recollection.  Chance led his glance to trail down
+the cutwater.  His neck stretched from his collar like a turtle's from
+its shell.
+
+"Well, I'll be hornswoggled!" he murmured, shifting his cud from
+starboard to port.
+
+Caught on the fluke of the anchor was the strangest looking box he had
+ever laid eyes on.  There were leather and steel bands and
+diamond-shaped ivory and mother of pearl, and it hung jauntily on the
+point of the rusty fluke.  Anybody would be hornswoggled to glimpse
+such a droll jest of fate.  On the fluke of the old mudhook, by a hair,
+you might say.  In all the wild sea yarns he had ever read or heard
+there was nothing to match this.
+
+Treasure!
+
+And Steve was destined never to be passive again.  His first impulse
+was to call his companions; his second impulse was to say nothing at
+all, and wait for an opportunity to get the box to his bunk without
+being detected.  Treasure!  Diamonds and rubies and pearls and old
+Spanish gold; and all hanging to the fluke of the anchor.
+
+"Hornswoggled!" in a kind of awesome whisper this time.  "An' we
+a-headin' for th' Bahamas!"  For under his feet he could hear the
+rhythm of engines.  "What'll I do?  If I leave it, some one else'll see
+it."  He scratched his chin perplexedly; and the cud went back to
+starboard.  "I got it!"
+
+He took off his coat and carefully dropped it down over the mysterious
+box.  It was growing darker and darker all the time, and shortly
+neither coat nor anchor would be visible without close scrutiny.
+Treasure: greed, cupidity, crime.  Steve saw only the treasure and not
+its camp followers.  What did they call them?--doubloons and
+pieces-of-eight?
+
+He ate his supper with his messmates, and he ate heartily as usual.  It
+would have taken something more vital than mere treasure to disturb
+Steve Blossom's appetite.  He was one of those enviable individuals
+whose imagination and gastric juices work at the same time.  And while
+he ate he planned.  In the first place, he would buy that home at
+Bedford; then he would take over the Gilson House and live like a lord.
+If he wanted a drink, all he would have to do would be to turn the
+spigot or tip a bottle; and more than that, he'd have a bartender to do
+it.  Onions!  He swore he would not have an onion within a mile of the
+Gilson House.  "Onions!"  Quite unconsciously he spoke the words aloud.
+
+"Huh?  Well, if ye don't like onions, find a hooker that packs violets
+in her hold," was the cheerful advice of the man at Steve's elbow.
+
+"Who's talkin' t' you?" grunted Steve.  "Wha' did I say?"
+
+"Onions, ye lubber!  Don't we know whut onions is?  Ain't we smelt 'em
+so long that ye could stick yer nose in th' starboard light an' never
+smell no kerosene?  Onions!  Pass th' cawffy."
+
+Steve helped himself first.  The man who spoke bunked over him, and
+they were not on the best of terms.  There was no real reason for this
+frank antagonism; simply, they did not splice any more effectually than
+cotton rope and hemp splice.  Sailors are moody and superstitious; at
+least they generally are on hookers of the _Captain Manners_ breed.
+Steve was superstitious and Jim Dunkers was moody and had no thumb on
+his left hand.  Steve hated the sight of that red nubbin.  He was quite
+certain that it had been a whole thumb once, on the way to gouge out
+somebody's eye, and had inadvertently connected with somebody's teeth.
+
+Spanish doubloons and pearls and diamonds and rubies!  It was mighty
+hard not to say these words out loud, too; blare them into the sullen
+faces grouped around the table.  He was off watch till midnight; and he
+was wondering if he could get the box without attracting the attention
+of the lookout, who had a devilish keen eye for everything that stirred
+on deck or on water.  Well, he would have to risk it; but he would wait
+till full darkness had fallen over the sea and the lookout would be
+compelled to keep his eyes off the deck.  The boys wanted him to play
+cards.
+
+"Not for me.  Busted.  How long d' y' think forty dollars 'll last in
+New York, anyhow?"  And he stalked out of the forecastle and went down
+into the waist to enjoy his evening pipe, all the while keeping a
+weather eye forward, at the ratty old pilot house.
+
+It was ten o'clock, land time, when he rammed his cutty into a pocket
+and resolutely walked forward.  If any one watched him they would think
+he was only looking down the cutwater.  The thought of money and the
+pleasures it will buy makes cunning the stupidest of dolts; and Steve
+was ordinarily a dolt.  But to-night his brain was keen enough for all
+purposes.  It was a hazardous job to get the box off the fluke without
+letting it slip back into the sea.  Steve, however, accomplished the
+feat, climbed back on the rail and sat down, waiting.  A quarter of an
+hour passed.  No one had seen him.  With his coat securely wrapped
+about his precious find he made for the forecastle.  His mates, save
+those who were doing their watch, were all in their bunks.  An oil lamp
+dimly illuminated the forward partition.  Steve's bunk was almost in
+darkness.  Very deftly he rolled back the bedding and secreted the box
+under his pillows, and then stretched himself out with the pretense of
+snoozing till the bell called him to duty.
+
+He was rich; and the moment a man has money he has troubles; there is
+always some one who wants to take it away from you.  His bunk was on
+the port side, and there was plenty of hiding space between the iron
+plates and the wooden partition.  He intended to loosen three or four
+planks, and then when the time came, slip the box behind them.  Some
+time during the morning the forecastle would be empty, and then would
+be his time.
+
+But he suffered the agonies of damnation during the four-hours' watch.
+Supposing some fool should go rummaging about his bunk and discover the
+box?  Suppose ... But he dared not suppose.  There was nothing to do
+but wait.  If he created any curiosity on the part of his mates he was
+lost.  He would have to divide with them all, from the captain down to
+the cook's boy.  It was a heart-rending thought.  From being the most
+open and frank man aboard, he became the most cunning.  From being a
+man without enemies, he saw an enemy even in his shadow.
+
+At four o'clock he turned in and slept like a log.
+
+In the morning he found his opportunity.  For half an hour the
+forecastle was empty of all save himself.  Feverishly he pried back the
+boards, found the brace beam, and gently laid the box there.  It was a
+mighty curious-looking box.  Once he had stoked up the Chinese coast
+from the Philippines, and he judged it to be Chinese in origin.  He
+tried to pry open the cover and feast his eyes upon the treasure; but
+under the leather and ivory and mother of pearl was impervious steel.
+It would take an ax or a crowbar to stir that lid.  He sighed.  He
+replaced the boards, and became to all appearances his stolid self
+again.
+
+But all the way down to the Bahamas he was moody, and when he answered
+any questions it was with words spoken testily and jerkily.
+
+"I know whut's th' matter," said Dunkers.  "He's in love."
+
+"Shut your mouth!"
+
+"Didn't I tell yuh?" laughed the tantalizer, dancing toward the
+companion way.  "Steve's in love, 'r he didn't git drunk enough on
+shore t' satisfy his whale's belly!"
+
+A boot thudded spitefully against the door jamb.
+
+"You fellahs let me alone, 'r I'll bash in a couple o' heads!"
+
+"Oh, yuh will, will yuh?" cried Dunkers from the deck.  "If yuh want a
+little exercise, yuh can begin on me, yuh moonsick swab!  Whut's th'
+matter with yuh, anyhow?  Where'd yuh git this grouch?  Whut've we done
+t' yuh?  Huh?"
+
+"You keep out o' my way, that's all.  I'm mindin' my watches, an' don't
+ask no odds of you duffers.  What if I have a grouch?  Is it any o'
+your business?  All right.  When we step ashore at th' Bahamas, Mister
+Jim Dunkers, I'll tear the ropes out o' your pulley blocks.  But till
+we git there, you t' th' upper bunk an' me t' mine."
+
+"Leave th' ol' grouch alone, Jim.  Th' mate won't stand for no
+scrappin' aboard.  We'll have th' thing done right in th' custom sheds.
+We'll have a finish fight, Queensberry rules, an' may th' best man win."
+
+"I'm willin'," said Jim.
+
+"So'm I," agreed Steve.  But his intentions were not honorable.  He
+proposed to desert before any fight took place.  Not that he was
+physically afraid; no; he wanted to dig his hands deep into those
+doubloons and pieces-of-eight.
+
+So the four days down passed otherwise uneventfully, amid paint pots
+and iron rust and three meals a day of pork, onion soup, potatoes, and
+strong, bitter coffee.  The winds became light and balmy and the sea
+blue and gentle.  The men went about in their undershirts and
+dungarees, barefooted.  Of course the coming fight was the main topic
+of conversation.  It promised to be a rattling good scrap, for both men
+were evenly matched, and both had a "kick" in either hand.  Even the
+captain took a mild interest in the affair.  He was an old sailor.  He
+knew that there was no such word as arbitration in a sailor's
+vocabulary; his disputes could be settled only in one manner, by his
+calloused fists.
+
+When the old mudhook (and some day Steve was going to buy it and hang
+it over the entrance to the Gilson House) slithered down into the
+smiling waters of the bay, Steve concluded that discretion was the
+better part of valor.  He would steal ashore on the quarantine tug
+which lay alongside.  He was willing to fight under ordinary
+circumstances, but he must get his treasure in safety first.  They
+could call him a welcher if they wanted to; devil a bit did he care.
+So he pried back the boards of his bunk wall, took out the box, eyed it
+fondly, and noted for the first time the lettering on it:
+
+  STANLEY HARGREAVE.
+
+
+He wrinkled his brow in the effort to recall a pirate by this name, but
+was unsuccessful.  No matter.  He hugged the box under his coat and
+made for the gangway, and inadvertently ran into his enemy.
+
+Dunkers caught a bit of the box peeping from under the coat.
+
+"What 'a' yuh got there?" he demanded truculently.
+
+"None o' your dam business!  You lemme by; hear me?"
+
+"Ain't none o' my business, huh?  Where'd yuh git a box like that?
+Steal it?  By cripes, I'm goin' t' have a look at that box, my hearty.
+It don't smell like honest onions."
+
+"You lemme by!" breathed Steve, with murder in his heart.
+
+Suddenly the two men closed, surged back and forth, one determined to
+take and the other to hold this mysterious box.  Dunkers struggled to
+uphold his word: not that he really wanted the box but to prove that he
+was strong enough to take it if he wanted to.  The name on the box
+flashed and disappeared.  It was a kind of shock to him.  He and
+Blossom went battering against the rail.  Dunker's grip slipped and so
+did Blossom's.  The result was that the box was catapulted into the
+sea.  With an agonizing cry, Blossom leaned far over.  He saw the box
+oscillate for a moment, then sink gracefully in a zigzag course, down
+through the blue waters.  Fainter and fainter it grew, and at last
+vanished.
+
+"I'm sorry, Steve; but yuh wouldn't let me look at it," said Dunkers,
+contritely.
+
+"Damn you; I'm goin' t' kill y' for that!"
+
+It became a real fight this time, fist and foot, tooth and nail; one
+mad with the lust to kill and the other desperately intent on living.
+It was one of those contests in which honor and fair play have no part.
+But for the timely arrival of the captain and some of the crew Dunkers
+would have been badly injured, perhaps fatally.  They hauled back
+Blossom, roaring out his oaths at the top of his lungs.  It took half
+an hour's arguing to calm him down.  Then the captain demanded to know
+what it was all about.  And blubbering, Steve told him.
+
+"Six hundred feet of water, if I've got my reckoning right.  The anchor
+lies in sixty feet, but the starboard side drops sheer six hundred.
+You swab!  Why didn't you bring the box to me?  A man has a right to
+what he finds.  I'd have taken care of it for you till we got back to
+port.  I know; you were greedy; you thought I might want to stick my
+fist into your treasure.  And you'll never find it in six hundred feet
+of water and tangled, porous coral.  That's what, you get for being a
+blamed hog.  As for you," and the captain turned to Dunkers, "get your
+dunnage and your pay and hunt for another boat back.  I won't have no
+murder on board _Captain Manners_.  And the sooner you go, the better."
+
+"I'll go, sir," said Dunkers, readily enough.  Had the misfortune
+happened to him and had Blossom been the aggressor, he would want his
+life.  He understood.  Like the valet in _Olivette_, it was the time
+for disappearing.
+
+"An' keep out o' my way.  I'll git y' yet," growled Blossom.
+
+"Keep your mouth shut," said the mate, "or I'll have you put in irons,
+you pig!"
+
+"All right, sir.  I've said all I'm goin't' say t'day;" and Blossom
+strode off.
+
+"What was the box like?" asked the captain of Dunkers.
+
+"Chinese contraption, sir; leastwise it looked that way to me.  Didn't
+look as if it'd been in th' water long, sir.  Somethin' lost overboard
+by some private yacht, t' my thinkin'.  I'll keep out o' Steve's way.
+I'll lay low on shore, sir."
+
+And though Steve made a perfect range of the spot, he never came back
+to find the mysterious box, never saw the Gilson House back home, nor
+did he ever see Dunkers again.  On the voyage home he brooded
+continually, and was frequently found blubbering; and one night he
+skipped his watch and went to Davy Jones' locker.
+
+Dunkers had not told about the name he had seen on the box; and Blossom
+had not thought to.  The name Hargreave had instantly brought back to
+Dunkers' mind the newspaper stories he had recently read.  There was no
+doubt in the world that this box belonged to the missing millionaire,
+who had drawn a million from his banks and vanished; and, moreover,
+there was no doubt in Dunkers' mind that this million lay in the
+Bahaman waters.  It had been drawn up from the bottom of the sound,
+under the path of the balloon.  He proceeded, then, to take a most
+minute range.  It would require money and partners; but half a loaf
+would be far better than no loaf at all; and he was determined to
+return to New York to find backing.  Finding is keeping, on land or sea.
+
+Now it happened that his favorite grog shop was a cheap saloon across
+the way from the headquarters of the Black Hundred; and Vroon
+occasionally dropped in, for he often picked up a valuable bit of
+maritime news.  Bunkers was an old friend of the barkeeper, and he
+proceeded to pour and guzzle down his throat a very poor substitute for
+whisky.  He became communicative.  He bragged.  He knew where there was
+a million, and all he needed was a first-class diving bell.  A year
+from now he would not be drinking cheap whisky; he'd be steering a
+course up and down Broadway and buying wine when he was thirsty.  He
+was no miser.  But he had to have a diving bell; and where the blue
+devil could he get one with twelve dollars and an Ingersoll watch in
+his pocket?
+
+From his table Vroon made a sign which the bartender understood.  Then
+he rose and approached Bunkers.
+
+"I own a pretty good diving apparatus," he said.  "If you've got the
+goods, I'll take a chance on a fifty-fifty basis."  Vroon did not
+believe there was anything back of his talk; but it always paid to dig
+deep enough to find out.  "Have a drink; and, Bill, give us a real
+whisky and none of your soap-lye.  Now, let's hear your yarn."
+
+"I don't know yuh," said Bunkers, with drunken caution.  "How is it,
+Bill?" turning to the bartender.
+
+"He's the goods, Jim.  You've heard of Wyant & Co.?"
+
+"Sure I've heard o' them.  Best divin' app'ratus they is."
+
+"Well, this gent here is Mr. Brooks, general manager for Wyant & Co.  I
+can O.K. him."
+
+Vroon threw an appreciative glance at the bartender.  He was not
+affiliated with the Black Hundred, but he had often aided Vroon in
+minor affairs.
+
+"All right, if yuh say so, Bill.  Well, here's th' yarn."
+
+And when he had done, Vroon smoked quietly without speaking.
+
+"Don't yuh believe it?" demanded Bunkers, truculently.
+
+"But six hundred feet of water, in a coral bottom, and no way of
+telling just where it fell overboard.  That's a tough proposition."
+
+"Oh, it is, is it?  I'm a sailor.  I can lay my hand right over th'
+spot.  Do yuh think I'd be fool enough t' hunt for it without a perfect
+range?"  Bunkers tapped his coat pocket suggestively.
+
+And Vroon knew that the one thing he wanted was there, a plan or a
+drawing of the range.  So there was another man shanghaied that night,
+and his destination was Cape Town, twenty-two days' voyage by the
+calendar.
+
+Vroon carried his information to the organization that same night.
+They would start the expedition at once, and till this was
+accomplished, Hargreave's daughter was to be immune from attacks.
+Besides, it would give Hargreave (wherever he was) and the others the
+idea that the Black Hundred had concluded to give up the chase.
+
+Above, with his ear to a small hole, skilfully bored through the
+ceiling without permitting the plaster to fall, knelt a man with a
+bandaged arm.  He could never see any faces; no one ever took off a
+mask in this sinister chamber.  But there were voices, and he was going
+to forget some of them.  After the meeting came to an end, he waited an
+hour, and then stole down into the street by the aid of the
+fire-escape.  Later, he entered a telephone booth and called up Jones.
+
+Then, one leathern and steel box, dotted with bits of ivory and
+mother-of-pearl, became two; and the second one was soaked in mud and
+salt water for two weeks till you could not have told it from the
+original.  And that is why Jones was able, some weeks later, to hide
+once more the original box.  As for the substitute, just as Braine was
+about to use a mallet and chisel upon it, the lights went out.  There
+was a wild scramble, a chair or two was overturned.
+
+"The door, the door!" shouted Braine, furious.
+
+It slammed the moment the words left his lips.  And as suddenly as they
+had gone out the lights sprang up.  The box was gone.  There were
+evidently traitors among the Black Hundred.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+The Black Hundred, not as individuals but as an organization, began to
+worry.  Powerful, and often reckless and daring because it was
+powerful, it began to look about for some basic cause for all these
+failures against Hargreave's daughter and Hargreave's ghost.  They had
+tried to put the inquisitive reporter out of the way; they had laid
+every trap they could think of to catch the mysterious visitor at the
+Hargreave home; they had thrown out a hundred lures to bring Hargreave
+out of his lair, and failed; and they had lost a dozen valuable men and
+several thousand dollars.  This must end somewhere, and quickly.
+
+The one ray of hope for the conspirators lay in the fact that Florence
+had never seen her father and knew not in the least what he looked
+like.  They determined to try again in this direction.
+
+"Give it all up," said the countess to Braine.  "I tell you, whatever
+is back of all this is stronger than we are.  He knows the
+organization, and for all we know he may be a ghost."
+
+"I never go back," smiled Braine.  "There's something more than the
+million.  There's the sport of the thing.  We've been bested in a dozen
+bouts, and nearly always by a fluke.  They have the breaks, as they say
+out at the Polo Grounds."
+
+"But the time and expense when we might be getting results elsewhere!
+I tell you, Leo, I'm afraid.  It's like always hearing some one behind
+you and never finding anybody when you turn.  I have told you my
+doubts.  I have also asked you to trap that butler, but you've always
+laughed."
+
+"You are seeing ghosts, Olga.  A new man from holy Russia," shrugging,
+"is coming to-night.  Evidently the head over there thinks our
+contributions of late have not been up to the mark, and they are going
+to stir us up.  I am willing to wager my soul, however, that that box
+is simply a hoax to befuddle us.  Either that or it holds the key.  But
+the rest of them insist that the box must be recovered.  When I leave
+this room to-night I am going over to Riverdale and stalk all by
+myself.  I'm going to get a glimpse of that mysterious stranger.  He
+carries a scar of mine somewhere, for I hit him that night."
+
+The door opened and the executive chamber became silent.
+
+"Count Paroff," boomed the voice of Vroon.  "He will present his
+credentials."
+
+This formality was executed as prescribed by the rules; and Count
+Paroff was given his chair.  He spoke for a while, rather pompously.
+
+"The head organization is not satisfied with its offspring in this
+Hargreave affair," he said in conclusion.  "You are slow."
+
+"Then perhaps you have come with some suggestions for the betterment of
+our business?" asked Braine ironically.
+
+"Sir, this is not the hour for flippancy," said the agent coldly.
+
+Braine made a sign with his hand, a sign not observed by every one.
+Instantly Paroff bent lowly.  He recognized that the speaker was the
+actual, not the nominal, head of the American branch.
+
+"What are your suggestions?" inquired the nominal head from his chair,
+anxious to avoid a clash between the newcomer and the truculent master
+of them all.
+
+"I have been informed that Hargreave's daughter has never seen her
+father, not even a photograph of him," said Paroff, more amiably.
+
+"We are absolutely certain that this is the case," said the nominal
+head, who was known as the president.  "But we tried one play in that
+direction, and it failed miserably."
+
+"I have the story," replied Paroff.  "It was clumsily done.  The ruse
+was an old one."
+
+Braine was frank enough to admit the truth of this statement, however
+much he disliked the admission.  He nodded.
+
+"I have authority to take a hand in this affair.  We can not waste all
+summer.  Those government plans of the fortifications of the Panama are
+waiting.  There's your millions.  But the fact remains that it is the
+law of the Black Hundred never to step down till absolutely defeated.
+The hidden million is but half; we must find and break this renegade
+Hargreave."
+
+"If he lives," said Braine.
+
+"Who can say one way or the other?" bruskly asked Paroff.  "The fact
+that all your plans and schemes have come to naught should prove to you
+that you are not fighting a ghost.  There is but one way to bring out
+the truth."
+
+"And that is to make a captive of his daughter," supplemented Braine.
+"And we have worked toward that end ceaselessly.  We are quite ready to
+listen to your suggestions, count."
+
+"And so am I," thought the man with his ear to the little hole in the
+ceiling above.  "And some day, my energetic friend, I'm going to pay
+you back for that bullet."
+
+Count Paroff cleared his voice and laid his plans before his audience.
+
+"To act frankly and in the open, to go boldly to the Hargreave home and
+proclaim myself Hargreave.  I can disguise myself in a manner that will
+at least temporarily fool the butler."
+
+"Who has been with his master for fourteen years, knows every move,
+habit, gesture, inflection," interposed Braine.  "But proceed, count,
+proceed.  You will remember the old adage; too many cooks."
+
+"Ah," flashed back the count, "but a new cook?"
+
+Olga touched Braine's arm warningly.
+
+"You mean, then, that there has been talk in St. Petersburg of
+disposing of some one?"
+
+"A good deal of talk, sir," haughtily, forgetting that he had bent
+humbly enough but a few moments gone.
+
+"Very well; go on."
+
+Thought the man at the peephole above: "There's another adage.  When
+thieves fall out, then honest men get their dues.  Yes, yes; proceed,
+proceed!"
+
+Paroff went on.  "I shall, then, go frankly to the Hargreave house and
+claim my own.  Meantime I leave to you the business of luring the
+butler away.  Half an hour is all I need to bring that child here, to
+break the wall that stands between us and what we seek."
+
+"Is that so?" murmured Braine.  "Olga, I want you to play a trick on
+this handsome delegate-at-large.  I'm not very enthusiastic over his
+talk.  I want him humiliated.  All you have to do, he says, is to walk
+into the Hargreave house and walk out again.  Well, let's you and I see
+that he does that and nothing else.  I'll have no one meddling with my
+own game."
+
+Some one sneezed, and everybody looked at his neighbor.  The sneeze was
+repeated, but muffled, as if some one was desperately anxious to avoid
+sneezing.
+
+"It came from above!" whispered Olga.  "Don't look up!"
+
+Braine was cool.  He walked idly across the room to where Vroon sat.
+"Very well, Paroff; we give you free rein."  To Vroon he said: "Some
+one is watching us from the room overhead.  I thought that room
+belonged to us."
+
+"It does," said Vroon stolidly.
+
+"Then how is it that some one is watching from up there?  No
+excitement.  I'm going to bid every one good night, then I'm going to
+investigate.  When I leave you will quietly send men to all exits to
+the building.  I want the man who sneezed, and I want him badly."
+
+Olga departed with Braine, only she immediately sought the taxi that
+brought her and was driven home.  It was always understood that when
+any serious exploit was under way hereabouts she was to make her
+departure at once.
+
+Vroon stationed his men at the several exits and Braine went up-stairs.
+The man who had sneezed, however, had vanished as completely as if he
+had worn that invisible cloak one reads about in the Persian tales.  As
+a matter of fact, after the second sneeze he had gone up to the roof,
+got out by the trap, and jumped--rather risky business, too--to the
+next roof and had clambered down the fire-escape of the second
+building.  He was swearing inaudibly.  After all these days of care and
+planning, after all his cleverness in locating the rendezvous of the
+Black Hundred, and now to lose his advantage because of an
+uncontrollable sneeze!  He would never dare go back, and just when he
+was beginning to pick up fine bits of information!  So Florence
+Hargreave was going to have a new father in a day or so?  There were
+some clever rogues among this band of theirs; but their cleverness was
+well offset by an equal number of fools.
+
+Yes, there were some clever rogues, and to prove this assertion Braine
+secured a taxicab and drove furiously away, his destination the home of
+his ancient enemy.  He dropped the cab a block or two away and
+presently stowed himself away in the summer house at the left of the
+lawn.  It would have been a capital idea--that is, if the other man had
+not thought of and anticipated this very thing.  So he used a public
+pay station telephone; and Braine waited in vain, waited till the
+lights in the Hargreave house went out one by one and it became wrapped
+in darkness within and moonshine without.
+
+Braine was a philosopher.  He returned to his waiting taxicab, drove
+home, paid the bill, smiling grimly, and went to bed.  It was going to
+be a wonderful game of blind man's buff, and it was going to be sport
+to watch this fool Paroff blunder into a pit.
+
+The next afternoon Florence and Norton sat in the summer house talking
+of the future.  Lovers are prone to talk of that.  As if anything else
+in the world ever equals the present!  They talked of nice little
+apartments and vacations in the summer and how much they would save out
+of his salary, and a thousand and one other things which would not
+interest you at all if I recounted them in detail.  But they did love
+each other, and they were going to be married; you may be certain of
+that.  They did not care a snap of the finger what Jones thought.  They
+were going to be married, and that was all there was to it.  Of course,
+Florence couldn't touch a penny of her father's money.  If he, Norton,
+couldn't take care of her without help, why, he wouldn't be worth the
+powder to blow him up with.
+
+[Illustration: THEY DID NOT CARE A SNAP OF THEIR FINGERS WHAT JONES
+THOUGHT]
+
+"But, my dear, you must be very careful," he said.  "Jones and I will
+always be about somewhere.  If they really get hold of you once, God
+alone knows what will happen.  It is not you, it is your poor father
+they want to bring out into the open.  If they knew where he was they
+would not bother you in the least."
+
+"Have I really a father?  Sometimes I doubt.  Why couldn't he steal
+into the house and see me, just once?"
+
+"Perhaps he dares not.  This house is always watched, night and day,
+though you'll look in vain to discover any one.  Your father knows best
+what he is doing, my dear girl.  You see, I met him years ago in China;
+and when he started out to do a certain thing he generally did it.  He
+never botched any of his plans.  So we all must wait.  Only I'm going
+to marry you all the same, whether he likes it or not.  The rogues will
+try to impose upon you again; but do not pay any attention to notes or
+personals in the papers.  And it was a lucky thing that I was on the
+freighter that picked you up at sea.  I shall always wonder how that
+yacht took fire."
+
+"So shall I," replied Florence, her brows drawing together in
+puzzlement.  "Sometimes I think I must have done it.  You know, people
+out of their heads do strange things.  I seem to see myself as in a
+dream.  And this man Braine is a scoundrel!"
+
+"Yes; and more than that, he is the dear friend of the countess.  But
+understand, you must never let her dream or suspect that you know.  By
+lulling her into overconfidence some day she will naturally grow
+careless, and then we'll have them all.  I think I understand what your
+father's idea is: not to have them arrested for blackmail, but
+practically to exterminate them, put them in prison for such terms of
+years that they'll die there.  When you see a snake, a poisonous one,
+don't let it get away.  Kill it.  Well, I must be off to work."
+
+"And you be careful, too.  You are in more danger than I am."
+
+"But I'm a man and can dodge quick," he laughed, picking up his hat.
+
+"What a horrid thing money is!  If I hadn't any money, nobody would
+bother me."
+
+"I would," he smiled.  He wanted to kiss her, but the eternal Jones
+might be watching from the windows; and so he patted her hand instead
+and walked down the graveled path to the street.
+
+It was difficult work for Florence to play at friendship.  She was like
+her father; she did not bestow it on every one.  She had given her
+friendship to the Russian, the first real big friendship in her life,
+and she had been roughly disillusioned.  But if the countess could act,
+so could she; and of the two her acting was the more consummate.  She
+could smile and laugh and jest, all the while her heart was burning
+with wrath.
+
+One day, a week or so after her meeting with Norton in the summer
+house, Olga arrived, beautifully gowned, handsome as ever.  There was
+not the least touch of the adventuress in her makeup.  Florence had
+just received some mail, and she had dropped the letters on the library
+table to greet the countess.  She had opened them, but had not yet
+looked at their contents.
+
+They were chatting pleasantly about inconsequent things, when the maid
+came in and asked Florence to come to Miss Susan's room for a moment.
+Florence excused herself, wondering what Susan could want.  She forgot
+the mail.
+
+As soon as she was gone the countess, certain that Jones was not
+lurking about, picked up the letters and calmly examined their
+contents; and among them she found this remarkable document: "Dear
+daughter I have never seen: I must turn the treasure over to you.  Meet
+me at eight in the summer house.  Tell no one, as my life is in danger.
+Your loving father."
+
+The countess could have laughed aloud.  She saw this man Paroff's hand;
+and here was the chance to befool and humiliate him and send him off
+packing to his cold and miserable country.  She had made up once as
+Florence, and she could easily do so again.  The only thing that
+troubled her was the fact that she did not know whether Florence had
+read the letter or not.  Thus, she did not dare destroy it.  She first
+thought of changing the clock; then she concluded to drop the letter
+exactly where she found it and trust to luck.
+
+[Illustration: SHE FIRST THOUGHT OF CHANGING THE CLOCK]
+
+When Florence returned she explained that her absence had been due to
+some trifling household affair.
+
+Said the Russian: "I come primarily to ask you to tea to-morrow, where
+they dance.  If you like, you may ask Mr. Norton to go along.  I begin
+to observe that you two are rather fond of each other."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Norton is just a valuable friend," returned Florence with a
+smile that quite deceived the other woman.  "I shall be glad to go to
+the tea.  But I shall not promise to dance."
+
+"Not with Mr. Norton?" archly.
+
+"Reporters never dance themselves; they make others dance instead."
+
+"I shall have to tell that," declared the countess; and she laughed
+quite honestly.
+
+"Then I have said something witty?"
+
+"Indeed you have; and it is not only witty but truthful.  I'm afraid
+you're deeper than the rest of us have any idea of."
+
+"Perhaps I am," thought Florence; "at least deeper than you believe."
+
+When the countess fluttered down to her limousine--Florence hated the
+sight of it--and drove away, Florence remembered her letters.  And when
+she came to the one purporting to be from her father, she read it
+carefully, bent her head in thought, and finally destroyed the missive,
+absolutely confident that it was only a trap, and not very well
+conceived at that.  Norton had given her plenty of reason for believing
+all such letters to be forgeries.  Her father, if he really wished to
+see her, would enter the house; he would not write.  Ah, when would she
+see that father of hers, so mysterious, always hovering near, always
+unseen?
+
+It must have been an amusing adventure for the countess.  To steal into
+the summer house and wait there, not knowing if Florence had advised
+Jones or the reporter.  If caught, she had her excuses.  Paroff, the
+confident, however, appeared shortly after.
+
+"My child!" whispered the man.
+
+And Olga stifled a laugh; but to him it sounded like a sob.
+
+"I am worn out," he said.  "I am tired of the game of hide and seek."
+
+"You will not have to play the game long," thought Olga.
+
+"The money is hidden in my office down-town.  And we must go there at
+once.  When we return we will pack up and leave for Europe.  I've
+longed to see you so!"
+
+"You poor fool!  And they sent you to supersede Leo!" she mused.
+
+She played out the farce to the very end.  She permitted herself to be
+pinioned and jogged; and for what unnecessary roughness she suffered at
+the hands of Paroff he would presently pay.  He took her straight to
+the executive chamber of the Black Hundred and pushed her into the
+room, exclaiming triumphantly:
+
+"Here is Hargreave's daughter!"
+
+[Illustration: HE TOOK HER STRAIGHT TO THE EXECUTIVE CHAMBER OF THE
+BLACK HUNDRED]
+
+"Indeed!" said Olga, throwing back her veil and standing revealed in
+her mask.
+
+"Olga!" cried Braine, laughing.
+
+And that was the inglorious end of the secret agent from Russia.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Perhaps the most amusing phase of the secret agent's discomfiture was
+the fact that neither Jones nor Florence had the least idea what had
+happened.  Florence regretted a hundred times during the evening that
+she had not gone out to the summer house.  It might really have been
+her father.  Her regret grew so deep in her that just before going to
+bed she confessed to Jones.
+
+"You received a letter of that sort and did not show it to me?" said
+Jones, astonished.
+
+"You warned me never to pay any attention to them."
+
+"No; I warned you never to act upon them without first consulting me.
+And we might have made a capture!  My child, always show me these
+things.  I will advise you whether to tear them up or not."
+
+"Jones, I believe you are going a little too far," said Florence
+haughtily.  "It might have been my father."
+
+"Never in this world, Miss Florence.  Still, I beg your pardon for
+raising my voice.  What I do and have done is only for your own sake.
+There are two things I wish to impress upon your mind before I go.
+This can be made a comedy or a terrible tragedy.  You have already had
+a taste of the latter; and each time you escaped because God was good
+to us.  But He is rarely kind to thoughtless people.  They have to look
+out for themselves.  I am acting under orders; always remember that."
+
+"Forgive me; I acted wrongly.  But I'm so weary and tired of this
+eternal suspicion of everybody and everything.  Can't I go somewhere,
+some place where I can have rest?"
+
+"If I thought for a single moment it was possible to take you thousands
+of miles from this spot, it would be done this very night.  But this is
+our fortress.  So far it has been impregnable.  The police are watching
+it; and that prevents a general assault by the scoundrels.  If we tried
+to leave we would be followed; and they play the game exceedingly well.
+Now, good night.  We'll have you out of all this doubt and suspicion
+one of these days.  There will not be any past; that will be lopped off
+as you'd lop a limb from a tree."
+
+"Please let it be quick.  I want to see my father."
+
+Jones' eyes sparkled.  "And you have my word that he wants to see you.
+But I dare not tell you."
+
+"Do you think he would object to Mr. Norton?" she asked, studying the
+rug.
+
+"In what capacity?" he countered, forcing her hand.
+
+"As--as a husband?" bravely.
+
+Jones in turn studied the patterns in the rug.  "It is only natural for
+a father to look high for his daughter's husband.  But, after all, an
+honest man is worth as much as anything I know of.  And Norton is
+honest and loyal and brave."
+
+"Thank you, Jones.  I intend to marry him when the time comes; so you
+may as well prepare father for this eventuality."
+
+"There is an old adage--"
+
+But she interrupted him.  "If you have a new adage, Jones, I shouldn't
+mind hearing it.  But I'm only just out of school, where old adages are
+served from soup to pudding.  Good night."
+
+And Jones went to the rear of the house, chuckling.
+
+In the passing it might well be observed that the Hargreave house had a
+remarkable menage.  There was a gardener, a cook, and a maid; and the
+three of them reported to Jones each night before going to bed.  They
+were all three detectives from one of the greatest organizations in
+America.
+
+Finding themselves unable to lure Florence away from the environs of
+the Hargreave home, the Black Hundred set some new machinery in motion.
+They proposed to rid the house of every one in it by a perfectly
+logical device.  But the first step in this new move was going to be
+extremely delicate and risky.  It was no small adventure to enter the
+Hargreave home; and yet this must be done.  So finally "Spider" Beggs
+was selected for the work.  The man could practically walk over
+crockery without causing a sound; he could climb a house by the window
+ledges; and he could hold his breath like those professional tank
+swimmers.
+
+Three or four nights after the Paroff fiasco, Jones started the rounds,
+putting out the lights.  He left the one in the hall till the last, for
+it was his habit, after having turned off that light, to stand by the
+door for several minutes, watching.  One never could tell.
+
+On the other hand, "Spider" Beggs never approached a house till an hour
+after the lights went out.  Persons were likely to move about for some
+minutes later; they might want something to eat, a drink of water.  So
+he remained hidden behind the summer house till long after midnight.
+When at last he felt assured that all in the Hargreave house were
+asleep, he moved out cautiously.  Both his future and his pocketbook
+depended upon the success of this venture.  It took him ten minutes to
+crawl from the summer house to the veranda, and to have detected this
+approach Jones, had he been watching, would have needed a searchlight.
+Beggs hugged the lattice-work for another ten minutes and then drew
+himself up and wriggled to one of the windows.  Here was an operation
+that needed all his care and skill; to lift this window without sound.
+But he was an old hand and windows with ordinary locks were playthings
+under his deft touch.  He raised the window, stepped over the sill into
+the library, and crouched down.  He did not close the window; house
+thieves never do.  They leave windows and doors open, because sooner or
+later they have to make their escape that way.
+
+[Illustration: HERE WAS AN OPERATION THAT NEEDED ALL HIS CARE AND SKILL]
+
+Presently he stood up, flashed his torch, found the library shelves,
+and tiptoed toward them.  He then selected three or four volumes,
+opened them at random and laid neat packages of money between the
+leaves.  It was not real money, but only a bank clerk could have told
+that.  This done, he moved toward the window again.
+
+"Stop!" said Jones quietly.
+
+"Spider" Beggs gasped, it was so unexpected; but at the same time
+almost instinctively he plunged headlong through the window, and the
+bullet which followed snipped a lock of his hair.  He threw himself off
+the veranda and scurried across the lawn, zigzag fashion.  But no more
+bullets followed.
+
+Jones turned on the lights and investigated the room, but he could not
+find anything disturbed, and naturally came to the conclusion that the
+intruder had been interrupted before he had begun his work.  He turned
+off the lights and sat up the major part of the night.  Nothing more
+happened.  Florence came down, but he sent her back to bed, explaining
+that some one had attempted to enter the house and he had taken a shot
+at him.
+
+"Spider" Beggs had a letter to write.  He was in high feather.  He had
+tackled a difficult job and had come away without a scratch.  But he
+had the misfortune to write his letter to the secret service officials
+in a hotel often frequented by Norton.  And so Jim, on finishing his
+own letter, blotted it and casually glanced at the blotter.  A single
+word caught his eye.  Being an alert newspaper man, always on the hunt
+for stories, he examined the blotter with care.  It was an easy matter
+for him to read writing backward, having fooled away many an hour in
+the composing rooms.  The word which had awakened the reportorial sense
+in him was "counterfeit."  He held the blotter toward the mirror and
+read enough to satisfy himself that the Black Hundred had become active
+once more.  And this was one of the best ideas they had yet conceived.
+
+[Illustration: HE EXAMINED THE BLOTTER WITH CARE]
+
+Hargreave had always been something of a mystery to his neighbors.
+Where he had lived in other days was unknown; neither had any one the
+remotest idea from what source his riches had been obtained.  And
+nothing was known of Jones or the daughter.  It was a very shrewd
+method of clearing every one out of the house and leaving it to be
+examined at leisure.  And he had fallen upon this thing; he, Norton,
+all because his tailor had written him a sharp note about his bill and
+he had been provoked to reply in kind!  Counterfeit money.  There was
+quite a flurry these days over certain issues of spurious paper.  It
+was so good that only experts could detect it.  There were two plates,
+one for a ten and another for a twenty.  For a while he was pulled
+between duty and love.  Well, it would only add another interesting
+chapter to the general story when he published it.  He started out to
+Riverdale to acquaint Jones with the discovery.
+
+"Humph!" said Jones; "not a bad idea this.  So that's what the sneak
+was doing here last night.  I've been wondering and wondering.  Let's
+have a look."
+
+He went through the books and at length came across the three volumes.
+These held a thousand in excellent counterfeit.
+
+"Mighty good work that.  What are you going to do?" asked the reporter.
+
+Jones rubbed his chin reflectively.  "How long may a counterfeiter be
+sent up?"
+
+"Anywhere from ten to twenty years."
+
+"That will serve.  My boy, this time we'll go and take Mr. Black
+Hundred right in his cubby-hole."
+
+"You know where it is?"
+
+"Every nook and corner of it.  Now you go at once to the chief of the
+local branch of the secret service and put the matter to him frankly.
+I, Florence, Susan, and the rest of us must be arrested.  The wretches
+must believe that the house is empty.  They'll rove about fruitlessly
+and will return to their den to report the success of the coup.  All
+the while you and some detectives will be in hiding up-stairs,
+dictagraph and all that.  When the time comes you will follow.  This
+will not reach the heads, perhaps, but it will demoralize the
+organization in such a way as to make it helpless for several months to
+come.  There is a tunnel from the stables to this house."
+
+"What, a tunnel?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Hargreave had it built several years ago.  I don't know what
+his idea was; possibly he anticipated an event like this.  You and your
+men will find entrance by this method.  It can be done without exciting
+the suspicions of the watchers."
+
+"Looks as if my yarn wasn't going to be delayed so long after all.
+Jones, you ought to have been in the secret service yourself,"
+admiringly.
+
+Jones smiled and shrugged.  "I am perfectly satisfied with my lot--or
+would be if the Black Hundred could be wiped out of existence."
+
+"I'll see the secret service people at once.  I stand in well with them
+all."
+
+"And good luck to you.  We'll need good luck."
+
+Norton was welcomed cordially by the chief.  The secret service men
+trusted him and told him lots of tales that never saw light on the
+printed page.  The reporter went directly to the point of his story,
+without elaboration, and the chief smiled and handed him the original
+letter.
+
+"Norton, I've been after this gang of counterfeiters for months and
+they are clever beyond words.  I've never been able to get anywhere
+near their presses.  And for a moment I thought this note was from a
+squealer.  I've a dozen men scouring the country.  They find the bogus
+notes, but never the men who pass them.  You see, it's new stuff.  I
+know what all of the old-timers are at; none of them has had a hand in
+this issue.  Some foreigners, I take it, under the leadership of a man
+I'd very much like to know.  Now, what's your scheme?"
+
+Jim outlined it briefly.
+
+"It all depends," said the chief, "upon the fact that they will be
+impatient.  If they have the ability to wait, we lose.  But we can
+afford to risk the chance.  The man who wrote this letter is not a
+counterfeiter.  He's an old yeggman.  We haven't heard anything of him
+lately.  We tried to corner him on a post-office job, but he slipped
+by.  He may be a stool.  Anyhow, I'll draw him in somehow."
+
+"There'll be some excitement."
+
+"We're used to that; you too.  All we've got to do is to locate this
+man Beggs.  There are signs of spite in this letter.  Very well played,
+if you want my opinion.  What's this Black Hundred?"
+
+"I'm not at liberty to tell just yet.  It's a strange game; half
+political, half blackmail.  It's a pretty strong organization.  But if
+they're back of this counterfeiting, there's a fine chance of landing
+them all."
+
+Here the chief's assistant came in.  "Got Beggs on the wire.  Says
+he'll conduct you to the home if you'll promise him immunity for some
+other offenses."
+
+"Tell him he shall have immunity on the word of the chief.  But also
+say that he must come to see me in person."
+
+"All right, sir."
+
+"I don't believe it would be wise for Beggs to see me here.  I gave him
+a good send-off--Sing Sing--five years ago.  He may recollect," said
+Norton.
+
+"Suit yourself about that.  Only, keep in communication with me by
+telephone and I'll tip you off as to when the raid shall take place.
+Lucky you came in.  I should have honestly gone there and arrested
+innocent people, and they would have had a devil of a time explaining.
+It would have taken them at least a week to clear themselves.  That
+would leave the house empty all that time."
+
+Norton did not reply, but he put the blotter away carefully.  There was
+no getting away from the fact, but the god of luck was with him.
+
+"Do you know what's back of it all?"
+
+"I can't tell you any more than I have," said Norton.
+
+"Then I pass.  I know you well enough.  If you've made up your mind not
+to talk a man couldn't get anything out of you with a can-opener.  And
+that's why we trust you, my boy.  Don't forget the telephone."
+
+"I shan't.  So long."
+
+That same night Braine paid the Russian woman a brief visit.
+
+"I think that here's where we go forward.  The secret service will raid
+the house to-morrow and then for a few days we'll roam about as we
+bally please.  I'm hanged if I don't have every plank torn up and the
+walls pulled down.  More and more I'm convinced that the money is in
+that house."
+
+"Don't be too confident," warned Olga.  "So many times we have been
+tripped up when everything seemed in our hands.  The house should be
+guarded but not entered for a day or two; at least not till after the
+raid is cold.  I'm beginning to see traps everywhere."
+
+"Nonsense!  Leave it to me.  We shan't stick our heads inside the
+Hargreave house till we are dead certain that it is absolutely empty.
+Olga, you're a gem.  I don't think Russia will bother us for a while.
+Eh?  Paroff will not dare tell how he was flimflammed.  The least he
+can do to save his own skin is to say that we are fully capable of
+taking care of ourselves."
+
+Olga laughed.  "To think of his writing a note like that!  Florence
+would have recognized--and no doubt did--a palpable attempt to play an
+old game twice."
+
+"How does she act toward you?"
+
+"Cordial as ever; and yet..."
+
+"Yet what?"
+
+"I thought her an ordinary schoolgirl, and yet every once in a while
+she makes what you billiard players call a professional shot.  What
+matter?  So long as they do not shut the door in my face, I ask nothing
+more.  But do you want my opinion?  I feel it in my bones that
+something will go wrong to-morrow."
+
+"Good lord, are you losing your nerve?" cried Braine impatiently.  "The
+secret service has the warning; they find the green stuff, and Jones &
+Co. will mog off to the police station.  And there'll be a week of red
+tape before they are turned loose again.  They'll dig into Hargreave's
+finances and all that.  We'll have all the security in the world to
+find out if the money is in the house or not.  Why worry?"
+
+"It's only the way I feel.  There is something uncanny in the
+regularity of that girl's good luck."
+
+"Ah, but we're not after her this time; it's the whole family."
+
+"The servants too?"
+
+"Everybody in the house will be under suspicion."
+
+"And can you trust Beggs?"
+
+"His life is in the hollow of my hand.  You can always trust a man when
+you hold the rope that's around his neck."
+
+Still the frown did not leave Olga's brow.  With all her soul she
+longed to be out of this tangle.  It had all looked so easy at the
+start; yet here they were, weeks later, no further forward than at the
+beginning, and added to this they had paid much in lives and money.
+Well, if she would be fool enough to love this man she must abide with
+the consequences.  She wanted him all by herself, out of danger, in a
+far country.  He might tire, but she knew in her heart that she never
+would.  This was her one great passion, and while her mode of living
+was not as honest as might be, her love was honest enough and
+unswerving, though it was not gilded by the pleasant fancies of youth.
+
+"Of what are you thinking?" he asked when he concluded that the pause
+had been long enough.
+
+"You."
+
+"H'm.  Complimentary?"
+
+"No; just ordinary every-day love."
+
+"Ah, Olga, why the deuce must you go and fall in love with a bundle of
+ashes like myself?  Ashes, and bitter ashes, too.  Sometimes I regret.
+But the regretting only seems to make me all the more savage.  What
+opium and dope are to other men, danger and excitement are to me.  It
+is not written that I shall die in bed.  I have told you that already.
+There is no other woman--now.  And I do love you after a fashion, as a
+man loves a comrade.  Wait till this dancing bout is over and I may
+talk otherwise.  And now I am going to shake hands and hobnob with the
+elite--beautiful word!  And while I bow and smirk and crack witticisms,
+I and the devil will be chuckling in our sleeves.  But this I'll tell
+you, while there's a drop of blood in my veins, a breath in my body,
+I'll stick to this fight if only to prove that I'm not a quitter."
+
+He caught her suddenly in his arms, kissed her, ran lightly to the
+door, and was gone before she could recover from her astonishment.
+
+The affair went smoothly, without a hitch.  Norton and his men gained
+the house through the tunnel without attracting the least attention.
+The Black Hundred, watching the front and rear of the house, never
+dreamed that there existed another mode of entrance or that there was a
+secret cabinet room.
+
+Half an hour later the head of the secret service, accompanied by his
+men, together with "Spider" Beggs, who was in high feather over his
+success, arrived, demanded admittance, and went at the front of the
+business at once.
+
+"Your name is Jones?" began the chief.
+
+The butler nodded, though his face evinced no little bewilderment at
+the appearance of these men.
+
+"What is it you wish, sir?"
+
+"I am from the secret service and I have it from a pretty good source
+that there is counterfeit money hidden in this house.  More than that,
+I can put my hand on the very place it is hidden."
+
+"That is impossible, sir," declared Jones indignantly.
+
+"I am an old hand, Mr. Jones.  It will not do you a bit of good to put
+on that bold front."
+
+Beggs smiled.  How was he to know that this was a comedy set especially
+for his benefit?
+
+"I should like to see that money," said Jones, not quite so bravely.
+
+"Come with me," said the secret service man.  "Where's the library?"
+
+"Beyond that door, sir."
+
+The chief beckoning to his men, entered the library, went directly to a
+certain shelf, extracted three volumes, and there lay the money in
+three neat packages.
+
+"Good heavens!" gasped Jones.
+
+"I shall have to request you and the family to accompany me to the
+station."
+
+"But it is all utterly impossible, sir!  I know nothing of that money
+nor how it got there.  It's a plot.  I declare on my oath, sir, that I
+am innocent, that Miss Florence and her companion know nothing about
+it."
+
+"You will have to tell that to the federal judge, sir.  My duty is to
+take you all to the station.  It would be just as well not to say
+anything more, sir."
+
+"Very well; but some one shall smart for this outrage."
+
+"That remains to be seen," was the terse comment of the secret service
+man.
+
+He led his prisoners away directly.
+
+Norton and his men had to wait far into the night.  The Black Hundred
+did not intend to make any mistake this time by a hasty move.  At
+quarter after ten they descended.  Braine was not with them.  This was
+due to the urgent request of Olga, who still had her doubts.  The men
+rioted about the house, searching nooks and corners, examining floors
+and walls, opening books, pulling out drawers, but they found nothing.
+They talked freely, and the dictagraph registered every word.  The
+printing plant, which had so long defied discovery, was in the cellar
+of the house occupied by the Black Hundred.  Norton and his men
+determined to follow and raid the building.  And the reporter promised
+himself a good front-page story without in any way conflicting with his
+promises to Jones.
+
+[Illustration: THE MEN RIOTED ABOUT THE HOUSE SEARCHING NOOKS AND
+CORNERS]
+
+Events came to pass as they expected.  The trailing was not the easiest
+thing.  Norton knew about where the building was, but he could not go
+to it directly.  He was quite confident that its entrance was identical
+with that which had the trap door through which he had been flung that
+memorable day when he had been shanghaied.
+
+When they reached the building he warned the men to hug the wall to the
+stairs.  The trap yawned, but no one was hurt.  They scampered up the
+stairs like a lot of eager boys; broke the door in--to find the weird
+executive chamber dark and empty and an acrid smoke in their nostrils.
+This latter grew stifling as they blundered about in the dark.  By luck
+Norton found the exit and called to the men to follow.  They saw Beggs
+at the top of the stairway and called out to him to surrender.  He held
+up his hands and the stairs collapsed.  Real fire burst out and Norton
+and his companions had a desperate battle with flame and smoke to gain
+the street.
+
+The fire was put out finally, but there was nothing in the ruins to
+prove that there had been a counterfeiting den there.  There was,
+however, at least one consoling feature: in the future the Black
+Hundred would have to hold their star-chamber elsewhere.
+
+It was checkmate; or, rather, it was a draw.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+If the truth is to be told, Jones was as deeply chagrined over the
+outcome of the counterfeit deal as was Braine.  They had both failed
+signally to reach the goal sought.  But this time the organization had
+broken even with Jones, and this fact disturbed the butler.  It might
+signify that the turning point had been reached, and that in the future
+the good luck might swing over to the side of the Black Hundred.  Jones
+redoubled his cautions, reiterated his warnings, and slept less than
+ever.  Indeed, as he went over the ground he conceded a point to the
+Black Hundred.  He would no longer be able to keep tab on the
+organization.  They had deserted their former quarters absolutely.  The
+agent of whom they had leased the building knew nothing except that he
+would have to repair the place.  The rent had been paid a year in
+advance, as it had been these last eight years.  He had dealt through
+an attorney who knew no more of his clients than the agent.  So it will
+be seen that Jones had in reality received a check.
+
+More than all this, it would give his enemies renewed confidence; and
+this was a deeper menace than he cared to face.  But he went about his
+affairs as usual, giving no hint to any one of the mental turmoil which
+had possession of him.
+
+It is needless to state Norton did not scoop his rivals on the
+counterfeit story.  But he set to work exploring the cellar of the
+gutted building, and in one corner he found a battered die.  He turned
+this over to the secret service men.  There was one man he wanted to
+find--Vroon.  This man, could he find him, should be made to lead him,
+Norton, to the new stronghold.  He saw the futility of trying to trap
+Braine by shadowing him.  He desired Braine to believe that his escape
+from the freighter had been a bit of wild luck and not a preconceived
+plan.  Braine was out of reach for the present, so he began to search
+for the man Vroon.  He haunted the water front saloons for a week
+without success.
+
+He did not know that it was the policy of the Black Hundred to lay low
+for a month after a raid of such a serious character.  So the Hargreave
+menage had thirty days of peace; always watched, however.  For Braine
+never relaxed his vigilance in that part of the game.  He did not care
+to lose sight of Jones, who he was positive was ready for flight if the
+slightest opportunity offered itself.
+
+Norton went back to the primrose paths of love; and sometimes he would
+forget all about such a thing as the Black Hundred.  So the summer days
+went by, with the lilacs and the roses embowering the Hargreave home.
+But Norton took note of the fact that Florence was no longer the
+light-hearted schoolgirl he had first met.  Her trials had made a
+serious woman of her, and perhaps this phase was all the more
+enchanting to him, who had his serious side also.  Her young mind was
+like an Italian garden, always opening new vistas for his admiring gaze.
+
+He went about his work the same as of old, interviewing, playing
+detective, fattening his pay envelope by specials to the Sunday edition
+and some of the lighter magazines.  Sometimes he had vague dreams of
+writing a play, a novel, and making a tremendous fortune like that chap
+Manders, who only a few years ago had been his desk mate.  He really
+began the first chapter of a novel; but that has nothing to do with
+this history.
+
+All ready, then.  The chess are once more on the board, and it is the
+move of the Black Hundred.
+
+The day was rather cloudy.  Jones viewed the sky wearily.  He could
+hear Florence playing rather a cheerless nocturne by Chopin.  Fourteen
+weeks ago this warfare had begun, and all he had accomplished, he and
+those with him, was the death or incarceration of a few inconsequent
+members of the Black Hundred.  Always they struck and always he had to
+ward off.  He had always been on the defensive; and a defensive fighter
+may last a long while, but he seldom wins; and the butler knew that
+they must win or go down in bitter defeat.  There was no half-way route
+to the end; there could be no draw.  It all reminded him of
+thunderbolts; one man knew where they were going to strike.
+
+The telephone rang; at the same moment Florence left the piano.  She
+stopped at the threshold.
+
+"Hello!  You?  Where have you been?  What has happened?"
+
+"Who is it?" asked Florence, stepping forward.
+
+Jones held up a warning hand, and Florence paused.
+
+"Yes, yes; I hear perfectly.  Oh!  You've been working out their new
+quarters?  Good, good!  But be very careful, sir.  One never knows what
+may happen.  They have been quiet for some time now....  Ah!  You can't
+work the ceiling this time? ... Window over the way.  Very good, sir.
+But be careful."
+
+The word "sir" caught Florence's attention.  She ran to Jones and
+seized him by the arm.
+
+"Who was that?" she cried, as he turned away from the telephone.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You said 'sir.'"
+
+Jones' eyes widened.  "I did?"
+
+"Yes, and it's the first time I ever heard you use it over the
+telephone.  Jones, you were talking to my father!"
+
+"Please, Miss Florence, do not ask me any questions.  I can not answer
+any.  I dare not."
+
+"But if I should command, upon the pain of dismissal?" coldly.
+
+"Ah, Miss Florence," and Jones tapped his pocket, "you forget that you
+can not dismiss me by word.  I am legally in control here.  I am sorry
+that you have made me recall this fact to you."
+
+Florence began to cry softly.
+
+"I am sorry, very sorry," said the butler, torn between the desire to
+comfort her and the law that he had laid down for himself.  "It is very
+gloomy to-day, and perhaps we are a little depressed by it.  I am
+sorry."
+
+"Oh, I realize, Jones, that all this unending mystery and secrecy have
+a set purpose at back.  Only, it does just seem as if I should go mad
+sometimes with waiting and wondering."
+
+"And if the truth must be told, it is the same with me.  We have to
+wait for them to strike.  Shall I get you something to read?  I am
+going down to the drug store and they have a circulating library."
+
+"Get me anything you please.  But I'd feel better with a little
+sunshine."
+
+"That's universal," replied Jones, going into the hall for his hat.
+
+Had the telephone rung again at that moment it is quite probable that
+the day would have come to a close as the day before had, monotonously.
+But the ring came five minutes after Jones had left the house.
+
+"Is this the Hargreave place?"
+
+"Yes," said Florence.  "Who is it?"
+
+"This is Miss Hargreave talking?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"This is Doctor Morse.  I am at the Queen Hotel.  Mr. Norton has been
+badly hurt, and he wants you and Mr. Jones to come at once.  We can not
+tell just how serious the injury is.  He is just conscious.  Shall I
+tell him you will come immediately?"
+
+"Yes, yes!"
+
+Florence snapped the receiver on the hook.  She wanted to fly, fly.  He
+was hurt.  How, when, where?
+
+"Susan!  Susan!" she called.
+
+"What is it?" asked Susan, running into the room.
+
+"Jim is badly hurt.  He wants me to come at once.  Oh, Susan!  I've
+been dreading something all day long."  Florence struck the maid's
+bell.  "My wraps.  You will go with me, Susan."
+
+"Where, Miss Florence," asked the maid, alive to her duty.
+
+"Where?  What is that to you?" demanded Florence, who did not know that
+this maid was a detective.
+
+"Why not wait till Mr. Jones returns?" she suggested patiently.
+
+"And let the man I love die?" vehemently.
+
+"At least you will leave word where you are going, Miss Florence."
+
+"The Queen Hotel.  And if you say another word I'll discharge you.
+Come, Susan."
+
+There happened to be a taxicab conveniently near (as Vroon took care
+there should be), and Florence at once engaged it.  She did not see the
+man hiding in the bushes.  The two young women stepped into the taxicab
+and were driven off.  They had been gone less than five minutes when
+Jones returned with his purchase, to find the house empty of its most
+valuable asset.  He was furious, not only at the maid, who, he
+realized, was virtually helpless, but at his own negligence.
+
+In the midst of his violent harangue the bell sounded.  In his bones he
+knew what was going to be found there.  It was a letter on the back of
+which was drawn the fatal black mask.  With shaking fingers he tore
+open the envelope and read the contents:
+
+
+"Florence is now in our power.  Only the surrender of the million will
+save her.  Our agent will call in an hour for an answer.  THE BLACK
+HUNDRED."
+
+
+As a matter of fact, they had wanted Jones almost as badly as Florence,
+but her desire for a book--some popular story of the day--had saved him
+from the net.  The letter had been written against this possibility.
+
+Jones became cool, now that he knew just what to face.  The Queen Hotel
+meant nothing.  Florence would not be taken there.  He called up
+Norton.  It took all the butler's patience, however, as it required
+seven different calls to locate the reporter.
+
+Meantime the taxicab containing Florence and Susan spun madly toward
+the water front.  Here the two were separated by an effective threat.
+Florence recognized the man Vroon and knew that to plead for mercy
+would be a waste of time.  She permitted herself to be led to a waiting
+launch.  Always when she disobeyed Jones something like this happened.
+But this time they had cunningly struck at her heart, and all thought
+of her personal safety became as nothing.  For the present she knew
+that she was in no actual physical danger.  She was merely to be held
+as a hostage.  Would Susan have mentality enough to tell Jones where
+the taxicab had stopped?  She doubted.  In an emergency Susan had
+proved herself a nonentity, a bundle of hysterical thrills.
+
+As a matter of fact, for once Florence's deductions were happily wrong.
+When the chauffeur peremptorily deposited Susan on the lonely country
+road, several miles from home, she ran hot-foot to the nearest
+telephone and sent a very concise message home.  Susan was becoming
+acclimated to this strange, exciting existence.
+
+Norton arrived in due time, and he and Jones were mapping out a plan
+when Susan's message came.
+
+[Illustration: THEY WERE MAPPING OUT A PLAN WHEN SUSAN'S MESSAGE CAME]
+
+"Good girl!" said Jones.  "She's learning.  Can you handle this alone,
+Norton?  They want me out of the house again, for I believe they were
+after me as well as Florence.  Half an hour gone!"
+
+"Trust me!" cried Norton.
+
+And he ran out to his auto.  It was a wild ride.  Several policemen
+shouted after him, but he went on unmindful.  They could take his
+license number a hundred times for all he cared.  So they had got her?
+They could wait till their enemy's vigilance slacked and then would
+strike?  But Susan!  The next time he saw Susan he was going to take
+her in his arms and kiss her.  It might be a new sensation to kiss
+Susan, always so prim and offish.  Corey Street--that had been her
+direction.  They had put Florence in a motor boat at the foot of Corey
+Street.  He was perhaps half an hour behind.
+
+Florence never opened her lips.  She stared ahead proudly.  She would
+show these scoundrels that she was her father's daughter.  They plied
+her with questions, but she pretended not to hear.
+
+"Well, pretty bird, we'll make you speak when the time comes.  We've
+got you this trip where we want you.  There won't be any jumping
+overboard this session, believe me.  We've wasted enough time.  We've
+got you and we're going to keep you."
+
+"Let her be," said Vroon morosely.  "We'll put all the questions we
+wish when we're at our destination."  And he nodded significantly
+toward the ships riding at anchor.
+
+Florence felt her heart sink in spite of her abundant courage.  Were
+they going to take her to sea again?  She had acquired a horror of the
+sea, so big, so terrible, so strong.  She had had an experience with
+its sullen power.  They had gone about four miles down when she looked
+back longingly toward shore.  Something white seemed to be spinning
+over the water far behind.  At first she could not discern what it was.
+As she watched it it grew and grew.  It finally emerged from the
+illusion of a gigantic bird into the actuality of an every-day
+hydroplane.  Her heart gave a great bound.  This flying machine was
+coming directly toward the launch; it did not deviate a hair's breadth
+from the line.  Fortunately the men were looking toward the huge
+freighter a quarter of a mile farther on, and from their talk it was
+evident that the freighter was to be her prison--bound for where?
+Nearer and nearer came the hydroplane.  Was it for her?
+
+It was impossible for the men not to take notice of the barking of the
+engines at last.
+
+"The thing's headed for us!"
+
+Vroon stared under his palm.  It was not credible that pursuit had
+taken place so quickly.  To test yonder man-bird he abruptly changed
+the course of the launch.  The hydroplane veered its course to suit.
+
+Florence heard her name called faintly.  One of the men drew his
+revolver, but Vroon knocked it out of his hand.
+
+"There's the police boat, you fool!"
+
+"Jump!" a voice called to Florence.
+
+She flung herself into the water without the slightest hesitation.
+
+All this came about something after this fashion.  When Norton arrived
+at the foot of Corey Street a boatman informed him that a young woman
+of his description had got into a fast motor boat and had gone down the
+river.
+
+"Was there any struggle?"
+
+"Struggle?  None that I could see.  She didn't make no fuss about
+going."
+
+"Have you a launch?"
+
+"Yes, but the other boat has half an hour's start, and I'd never catch
+her in a thousand years.  But there's a hydroplane a little above here.
+You might interest the feller that runs it."
+
+"Thanks!"
+
+But the aviator would not listen.
+
+"A life may hang in the balance, man!" expostulated Norton, longing to
+pommel the stubborn man.
+
+"What proof have I of that?"
+
+Norton showed his card and badge.
+
+"Oh, I see!" jeered the aviator.  "A little newspaper stunt in which I
+am to be the goat.  It can't be done, Mr. Norton; it can't be done."
+
+"A hundred dollars!"
+
+"Not for five hundred," and the aviator callously turned away toward
+the young woman with whom he had been conversing prior to Norton's
+approach.  The two walked a dozen yards away.
+
+Norton had not served twelve years as a metropolitan newspaper man for
+nothing.  He approached the mechanics who were puttering about the
+machine.
+
+"How about twenty apiece?" he began.
+
+"For what?" the men asked.
+
+"For sending that paddle around a few times."
+
+"Get into that seat, but don't touch any of those levers," one of them
+warned.  "Twenty is twenty, Jack, and the boss is a sorehead to-day
+anyhow.  Give her a shove for the fun of it."
+
+It was a dumfounded aviator who saw his hydroplane skim the water and a
+moment later sail into the air.  These swift moving days a reporter of
+the first caliber is supposed to be able to run railroad engines,
+submarines, flying machines, conduct a war, able to shoot, walk, run,
+swim, fight, think, go without food like a python, and live without
+water like a camel.  Norton had flown many times in the last four
+years.  At the moment he called out to Florence to jump he dropped to
+the water with all the skill of an old-timer and took her aboard.  And
+he could not use a line of this exploit for his paper!
+
+
+Jones heard the bell.  It was the agent from the Black Hundred.  He
+smiled jauntily.
+
+"Well, old fox, we've cornered you at last, haven't we?  I want that
+money, or Hargreave's daughter takes another sea voyage, and this time
+she will not jump overboard.  A million; and no more nonsense."
+
+"Give me fifteen minutes to decide," begged Jones, hoping against hope.
+
+"Fifteen seconds!"
+
+"Then we can't do business.  What!  Give you a million, knowing you all
+to be a pack of liars?  Bring Miss Florence back and the money is
+yours.  We are tired of fighting."  As indeed Jones really was.  The
+strain had been terrific for weeks.
+
+"The money first.  We don't lie any better than you do.  Fork over.
+You'll have to trust us.  We have no use for the girl once we get the
+cash."
+
+"And you'll never touch a penny of it, you blackguard!" cried Norton
+from the doorway.
+
+The agent turned to behold the reporter and the girl.  He did not stop
+to ask questions, but bolted.  He never got beyond the door, however.
+
+"Always the small fry," sighed Jones.  "And if I could have put my
+hands on the money I'd have given it to him!  Ah, girl, it doesn't do
+any good to talk to you, does it?"
+
+"But they told me he was dying!"
+
+Jones shrugged.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+The maid stole into the house, wondering if she had been seen.  She
+wanted to be loyal to this girl, but she was tired of the life; she
+wanted to be her own mistress, and the small fortune offered her would
+put her on the way to realize her ambition.  What had she not seen and
+been of life since she joined the great detective force!  Lady's maid,
+cook, ship stewardess, flash woman, actress, clerk, and a dozen other
+employments.  Her pay, until she secured some fat reward, was but
+twelve hundred a year; and here was five thousand in advance, with the
+promise of five thousand more the minute her work was done.  And it was
+simple work, without any real harm toward Florence as far as she was
+concerned.  The whole thing rested upon one difficulty; would Jones
+permit the girls to leave the house?
+
+One day Florence found Susan sitting in a chair, her head in her hands.
+
+"Why, Susan, what's the matter?" cried Florence.
+
+"I don't know what is the matter, dear, but I haven't felt well for two
+or three days.  I'm dizzy all the time; I can't read or sew or eat or
+sleep."
+
+"Why didn't you tell me?" said Florence, reproachfully.  She rang for
+the detective-maid.  "Ella, I don't know anything about doctors
+hereabouts."
+
+"I know a good one, Miss Florence.  Shall I send for him?"
+
+"Do; Susan is ill."
+
+Jones was not prepared for treachery in his own household; so when he
+heard that a doctor had been called to attend Susan he was without the
+least suspicion that he had been betrayed.  More than this, there had
+been no occasion to summon a doctor in the seven years Mr. Hargreave
+had lived there.  So Jones went about his petty household affairs
+without more thought upon the matter.  The maid had been recommended to
+him as one of the shrewdest young women in the detective business.
+
+The doctor arrived.  He was a real doctor; no doubt of that.  He
+investigated Susan's condition--brought about by a subtle though not
+dangerous poison--and instantly recommended the seashore.  Susan was
+not used to being confined to the house; she was essentially an
+out-of-doors little body.  The seashore would bring her about in no
+time.  The doctor suggested Atlantic City because of its mildness
+throughout the year and its nearness to New York.
+
+"I'm afraid she'll have to go alone," said Jones gravely.
+
+"I shan't stir!" declared Susan.  "I shan't leave my girl even if I am
+sick."  Susan caught Florence's hand and pressed it.
+
+"Would you like to go with her, Florence?" asked Jones, with a shy
+glance at the strange doctor.  The shy glance was wasted.  The doctor
+evinced no sign that it mattered one way or the other to him.
+
+"It is nothing very serious now," he volunteered.  "But it may turn out
+serious if it is not taken care of at once."
+
+"What is the trouble?" inquired Jones, who was growing fond of Susan.
+
+"Weak heart.  Sunshine and good sea air will strengthen her up again.
+No, no!" as Jones drew forth his wallet.  "I'll send in my bill the
+first of the month.  Sunshine and sea air; that's all that's necessary.
+And now, good day."
+
+All very businesslike; not the least cause in the world for any one to
+suspect that a new trap was being set by the snarers.  The maid
+returned to the sewing-room, while Florence coddled her companion and
+made much of her.
+
+Jones was suspicious, but dig in his mind as he would he could find no
+earthly reason for this suspicion save that this attribute was now
+instinctive, that it was always near the top.  If Susan was ill she
+must be given good care; there was no getting around this fact.  Later,
+he telephoned several prominent physicians.  The strange doctor was
+recommended as a good ordinary practitioner and in good standing; and
+so Jones dismissed his suspicions as having no hook to hang them on.
+
+His hair would have tingled at the roots, however, had he known that
+this same physician was one of the two who had signed the document
+which had accredited Florence with insanity and had all but succeeded
+in making a supposition a fact.  Nor was Jones aware of the fact that
+the telephone wire had been tapped recently.  So when he finally
+concluded to permit Florence to accompany Susan to Atlantic City he
+telephoned to the detective agency to send up a trusty man, who was
+shadowed from the moment he entered the Hargreave home till he started
+for the railway station.  He became lost in the shuffle and was not
+heard from till weeks later, in Havana.  The Black Hundred found a good
+profit in the shanghaing business.
+
+Susan began to pick up, as they say, the day after the arrival at
+Atlantic City, due, doubtless, to the cessation of the poison she had
+been taking unawares.  The two young women began to enjoy life for the
+first time since they had left Miss Farlow's.  They were up with the
+sun every day and went to bed tired but happy.  No one bothered them.
+If some stray reporter encountered their signatures on the hotel
+register, he saw nothing to excite his reportorial senses.  All this,
+of course, was due to Norton's policy of keeping the affair out of the
+papers.
+
+Following Jones' orders, they made friends with none.  Those about the
+hotel--especially the young men--when they made any advances were
+politely snubbed.  Every night Florence would write to her good butler
+to report what had taken place during the day, and he was left to judge
+for himself if there was anything to arouse his suspicions.  He, of
+course, believed the two were covertly guarded by the detective he had
+sent after them.
+
+When Braine called on Olga he found his doctor there.
+
+"Well, what's the news?" he asked.
+
+"I had better run down and inquire how the young lady is progressing,"
+said the doctor, who was really a first-rate surgeon and who had
+performed a number of skilled operations upon various members of the
+Black Hundred anent their encounters with the police.  "I've got Miss
+Florence where you want her.  It's up to you now."
+
+"She ought to be separated from her companion.  We have left them alone
+for a whole week, so Jones will not worry particularly.  A mighty
+curious thing has turned up.  Before Hargreave's disappearance not a
+dozen persons could recollect what Jones looked like.  He was rarely
+ever in sight.  What do you suppose that signifies?"
+
+"Don't ask me," shrugged the man of medicine.  "I shouldn't worry over
+Jones."
+
+"But we can't stir the old fool.  We can't get him out of that house.
+I've tried to get that maid to put a little something in his coffee,
+but she stands off at that.  She says that she did as she agreed in
+regard to Florence, but her agreement ended there.  We have given the
+jade five thousand already and she is clamoring for the balance."
+
+"Have you threatened her?" asked Olga.
+
+Braine smiled a little.  "My dear woman, it is fifty-fifty.  While I
+have a hold on her, it is not quite so good as she has on me.  We are
+not dealing with an ordinary servant we could threaten and scare.  No,
+indeed; a shrewd little woman who desperately wanted money.  And she
+will be paid; no getting out of it.  She will not move another step,
+one way or the other, after she receives the balance.  Hargreave will
+have a pretty steep bill to pay when the time comes."
+
+"She has no idea where the million is?"
+
+"If she had, she's quite capable of lugging it off all by herself,"
+said Braine.
+
+The doctor laughed.
+
+"Olga," went on Braine, "you must look at it as I do; that it is still
+in the middle of the game, and we have neither lost nor won."
+
+"How do you know that Hargreave may not have at his beck and call an
+organization quite as capable if not as large as ours?" suggested the
+physician.
+
+"That is not possible," Braine declared without hesitation.
+
+"Well, it begins to look that way to me.  We've never made a move yet
+that hasn't been blocked."
+
+"Pure luck each time, I tell you; the devil's own luck always at the
+critical moment, when everything seems to be in our hands.  Now, we
+want Florence, and we've tried a hundred ways to accomplish this fact
+and failed.  The question is, how to get her away from her companion?"
+
+"Simple enough," said the doctor complacently.
+
+"Out with it, if you have an idea."
+
+The doctor leaned forward and whispered a few words.
+
+"Well, I'm hanged!"  Braine laughed and slapped the doctor on the
+shoulder.  "The simplest thing in the world.  Mad dog wouldn't be in
+it.  I always said that you had gray matter if you cared to exert
+yourself."
+
+"Thanks," replied the doctor dryly.  "I'll drop down there to-morrow,
+if you say so, ostensibly to see the other patient.  It will make a
+deuce of a disturbance."
+
+"Not if you scare the hotel people."
+
+"That is what I propose to do.  They will not want such a thing known.
+It would scare every one away for the rest of the season.  But of
+course this depends upon whether they are honest or in the hotel
+business to make money."
+
+Again Braine laughed.  "Bring her back to New York alone, Esculapius,
+and a fat check is yours.  Nothing could be simpler than an idea like
+this.  It's a fact; no man can think of everything, and you've just
+proved it to me.  I've tried to do a general's work without aids.
+Olga, does any one watch me come and go any more?"
+
+"No; I've watched a dozen nights.  The man has gone.  Either he found
+out what he wanted or he gave up the job.  To my mind he found out what
+he wanted."
+
+"And what's that?"
+
+"Heaven knows!" discouragedly.
+
+"Come, doctor, suppose you and I go down to Daly's for a little turn at
+billiards?"
+
+"Nothing would suit me better."
+
+"All aboard, then!  Good night, Olga, keep your hair on; I mean your
+own hair.  We're going to win out, don't you worry.  In all games the
+minute you begin to doubt you begin to lose."
+
+That same night Norton sat at his desk, in his shirt sleeves, pounding
+away at his typewriter.  From time to time he paused and teetered his
+chair and scowled over his pipe at the starlit night outside.  Bang!
+would go his chair again, and clickity-click would sing the keys of the
+machine.  The story he was writing was in the ordinary routine; the
+arrival of a great ocean liner with some political notables who were
+not adverse to denouncing the present administration.  You will have
+noticed, no doubt, that some disgruntled politician is always
+denouncing the present administration, it matters not if it be
+Republican or Democratic.  When you are out of a good job you are
+always prone to denounce.  The yarn bored.  Norton because his thoughts
+were miles southward.
+
+He completed his story, yanked out the final sheet, called for a copy
+boy, rose and sauntered over to the managing editor's door, before
+which he paused indecisively.  The "old man" had been after him lately
+regarding the Hargreave story, and he doubted if his errand would prove
+successful.
+
+However, he boldly opened the door and walked in.
+
+"Humph!" said the "old man," twisting his cigar into the corner of his
+mouth.  "Got that story?"
+
+Norton sat down.  "Yes, but I have not got it for print yet.  Mr.
+Blair, when you gave me the Hargreave job you gave me carte blanche."
+
+"I did," grimly.  "But, on the other hand, I did not give you ten years
+to clear it up in."
+
+"Have I ever fallen down on a good story?" quietly.
+
+"H'm, can't remember," grudgingly.
+
+"Well, if you'll have patience I'll not fall down on this one.  It's
+the greatest criminal story I ever handled, but it's so big that it's
+going to take time."
+
+"Gimme an outline."
+
+"I have promised not to," with a grimness equal to the "old man's."
+"If a line of this story trickles out it will mean that every other
+paper will be moving around, and in the end will discover enough to
+spoil my end of it.  I'll tell you this much: The most colossal band of
+thieves this country ever saw is at one end of the stick.  And when I
+say that counterfeiting and politics and millions are involved, you'll
+understand how big it is.  This gang has city protection.  We are
+running them all into a corner; but we want that corner so deep that
+none of them can wriggle out of it."
+
+"Umhm.  Go on."
+
+"I want two months more."
+
+The "old man" beat a tattoo with his fat pencil.  "Sixty days, then.
+And if the yarn isn't on my desk at midnight, you--"
+
+"Hunt for another job.  All right.  I came in to ask for three days'
+leave."
+
+"You're your own boss, Jim, for sixty days more.  Whadda y' mean
+counterfeiting?"
+
+"Those new tens and twenties.  If I stumble on that right, why, I can
+turn it over without conflicting with the other story."
+
+"Well, go to it."
+
+"I'm turning in my regular work, day in and day out, and while doing it
+I've gone through more hairbreadth escapes than you ever heard of.
+They have been after me.  I've dodged falling safes; I've been
+shanghaied, poisoned; but I haven't said a word."
+
+"Good lord!  Do you mean all that?"
+
+"Every word, sir."
+
+"I'll make it ninety days, Jim; and if this story comes in I'll see
+that you get a corking bonus."
+
+"I'm not looking for bonuses.  I'm proud of my work.  To get this story
+is all I want.  That'll be enough.  Thanks for the extension of time.
+Good night."
+
+So Florence received a long night letter in the morning.
+
+And the doctor arrived at about the same time.  And called promptly
+upon his patient.
+
+"Fine!" he said.  "The sea air was just the thing.  A doctor always
+likes to find his advice turning out well."
+
+He glanced quizzically at Florence, who was the picture of glowing
+health.  Suddenly he frowned anxiously.
+
+"You need not look at me," she laughed.  "I never felt better in all my
+life."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Why, what in the world do you mean?"
+
+He did not speak, but stepped forward and took her by the wrist,
+holding his watch in his other hand.  He shook his head.  He looked
+very solemn, indeed.
+
+"What is it?" demanded Susan, with growing terror.
+
+"Go to your own room immediately and remain there for the present," he
+ordered.  "I must see Miss Hargreave alone."
+
+He opened the door and Susan passed out bewilderedly.  He returned to
+Florence, who was even more bewildered than her companion.  The doctor
+began to ask her questions; how she slept, if she was thirsty, felt
+pains in her back.  She answered all these questions vaguely.  Not the
+slightest suspicion entered her head that she was being hoodwinked.
+Why should she entertain any suspicion?  This doctor, who seemed kindly
+and benevolent, who had prescribed for Susan and benefited her, why
+should she doubt him?
+
+"In heaven's name, tell me what is the matter?" she pleaded.
+
+"Stay here for a little while and I'll be back.  Under no circumstances
+leave your room till I return."
+
+He paced out into the hall, to meet the frantic Susan.
+
+"We must see the manager at once," he replied to her queries.  "And we
+must be extremely quiet about it.  There must be no excitement.  You
+had better go to your room.  You must not go into Miss Hargreave's.
+Tell me, where have you been?  Have you been trying to do any
+charitable work among the poorer classes?"
+
+"Only once," admitted Susan, now on the verge of tears.
+
+"Only once is sufficient.  Come; we'll go and see the manager together."
+
+They arrived at the desk, and the manager was summoned.
+
+"I take it," began the doctor lowly, "that a contagious disease, if it
+became known among your guests, would create a good deal of
+disturbance?"
+
+"Disturbance!  Good heavens, man, it would ruin my business for the
+whole season!" exclaimed the astounded manager.
+
+"I am sorry, but this young lady's companion has been stricken with
+smallpox--"
+
+The manager fell back against his desk, his jaw fallen.  Susan turned
+as white as the marble top.
+
+"The only way to avoid trouble is to have her conveyed immediately to
+some place where she can be treated properly.  Not a word to any one
+now; absolute secrecy or a panic."
+
+The manager was glad enough to agree.
+
+"She is not dangerous at present, but it is only a matter of a few
+hours when the disease will become virulent.  If you will place a
+porter before Miss Hargreave's door till I make arrangements to take
+her away, that will simplify matters."
+
+Smallpox!  Susan wandered aimlessly about, half out of her mind with
+terror.  There was no help against such a dreaded disease.  Her
+Florence, her pretty rosy-cheeked Florence, disfigured for life....!
+
+"Miss Susan, where is Florence?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Norton!" she gasped.
+
+"What's the trouble?" instantly alert.
+
+"Florence has the smallpox!"
+
+"Impossible!  Come with me."
+
+But the porter having had the strictest orders from the manager,
+refused to let them into Florence's room.
+
+"Never mind, Susan.  Come along."  Out of earshot of the porter, he
+said: "My room is directly above Florence's.  We'll see what can be
+done.  This smells of the Black Hundred a mile off.  Smallpox!  Only
+yesterday she wrote me that she never felt better.  Have you wired
+Jones?"
+
+"I never thought to!"
+
+"Then I shall.  Our old friends are at work again."
+
+"But it's the same doctor who sent me down here."
+
+Norton frowned.
+
+What followed all appeared in the reporter's story, as written three
+months later.  He and Susan went up to his room, raised the flooring,
+cut through the ceiling, and with the fire-escape rope dropped below.
+One glance at Florence's tear-stained face was enough for him.
+Norton's subsequent battle with the doctor and his accomplices made
+very interesting reading.  Their escape from the hotel, their flight,
+their encounter with one of the gang in the road, and Florence's
+blunder into the bed of quicksand, gave a succession of thrills to the
+readers of the _Blade_.
+
+And all this while the million accumulated dust, layer by layer.
+Perhaps an occasional hardy roach scrambled over the packets, no doubt
+attracted by the peculiar odor of the ink.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+The Black Hundred possessed three separate council chambers, always in
+preparation.  Hence, when the one in use was burned down they
+transferred their conferences to the second council chamber appointed
+identically the same as the first.  As inferred, the organization owned
+considerable wealth, and they leased the buildings in which they had
+their council chambers, leased them for a number of years, and
+refurnished them secretly with trap floors, doors and panels and all
+that apparatus so necessary to men who are sometimes compelled to make
+a quick getaway.
+
+When the Atlantic City attempt was turned into a fiasco by Norton's
+timely arrival Braine determined once more to rid himself of this
+meddling reporter.  He knew too much, in the first place, and in the
+second place Braine wanted to learn whether the reporter bore a charmed
+life or was just ordinarily lucky.  He would attempt nothing delicate,
+requiring finesse.  He would simply waylay Norton and make a
+commonplace end of him.  He would disappear, this reporter, that would
+be all; and when they found him he might or might not be recognizable.
+
+So Braine called a conference and he and his fellow rogues went over a
+number of expedients and finally agreed that the best thing to do would
+be to send a man to the newspaper, ostensibly as a reporter looking for
+a situation.  With this excuse he would be able to hang around the city
+room for three or four days.  The idea back of this was to waylay
+Norton on his way to some assignment which took him to the suburbs.
+
+All this was arranged down to the smallest detail; and a man whom they
+were quite certain Norton had not yet seen was selected to play the
+part.  He had been a reporter once, more's the pity; so there was no
+doubt of his being able to handle his end of the game.
+
+"I want Norton, I want him badly," declared Braine, "and woe to you if
+you let booze play in between you and the object of this move."
+
+The man selected to act the reporter hung his head.  Whisky had been
+the origin of his fall from honest living, and he was not so calloused
+as not to feel the sting of remorse at times.
+
+"More," went on Braine, "I want Norton brought to 49.  It's a little
+off the beat, and we can handle Norton as we please.  When we get rid
+of this newspaper ferret there'll be another to eliminate.  But he's a
+fox, and a fox must be set to trail him."
+
+"And who is that?"
+
+"Jones, Jones, Jones!" thundered Braine.  "He's the live wire.  But the
+reporter first.  Jones depends a lot on him.  Take away this prop and
+Jones will not be so sure of himself.  There's a man outside all this
+circle, and all these weeks of warfare have not served to bring him
+into the circle."
+
+"Hargreave is dead," said Vroon stolidly.
+
+"As dead as I am," snarled Braine.  "Two men went away in that balloon;
+and I'll wager my head that one man came back.  I am beginning to put a
+few things together that I have not thought of before.  Who knows?
+That balloon may have been carried out to sea purposely.  The captain
+on that tramp steamer may have lied from beginning to end.  I tell you,
+Hargreave is alive, and wherever he is he has his hand on all the
+wires.  He has agents, too, whom we know nothing about.  Hang the
+million!  I want to put my hands on Hargreave just to prove that I am
+the better man.  He communicates with Jones, perhaps through the
+reporter; he has had me followed; it was he who changed the boxes,
+bored the hole in the ceiling of the other quarters and learned heaven
+knows what."
+
+"If that's the case," said Vroon, "why hasn't he had us apprehended?"
+
+Braine laughed heartily.  "Haven't you been able to see by this time
+what his game is?  Revenge.  He does not want the police to meddle only
+in the smaller affairs.  He wants to put terror into the hearts of all
+of us.  Keep this point in your mind when you act.  He'll never summon
+the police unless we make a broad daylight attempt to get possession of
+his daughter.  And even then he would make it out a plain case of
+kidnaping.  Elimination, that's the word.  All right.  We'll play at
+that game ourselves.  No. 1 shall be Mr. Norton.  And if you fail I'll
+break you," Braine added to the ex-reporter.
+
+"I'll get him," said the man sullenly.
+
+Later, when he applied for a situation on the _Blade_, it happened that
+there were two strikes on hand, and two or three extra men were needed
+on the city staff.  The man from the Black Hundred was given a
+temporary job and went by the name of Gregg.
+
+For three days he worked faithfully, abstaining from his favorite
+tipple.  He had never worked in New York, so his record was unknown.
+He had told the city editor that he had worked on a Chicago paper, now
+defunct.
+
+He paid no attention whatsoever to Norton, a sign of no little acumen.
+On the other hand Norton never went forth on an assignment that Gregg
+did not know exactly where he was going.  But all these stories kept
+Norton in town; and it would be altogether too risky to attempt to
+handle him anywhere but outside of town.  So Gregg had to abide his
+time.
+
+It came soon enough.
+
+Norton was idling at his desk when the city editor called him up to the
+wicket.
+
+[Illustration: NORTON WAS IDLING AT HIS DESK WHEN THE CITY EDITOR
+CALLED HIM UP TO THE WICKET]
+
+"General Henderson has just returned to America.  Get his opinion on
+the latest Balkan rumpus.  He's out at his suburban home.  Here's the
+address."
+
+"How long will you hold open for me?" asked Norton, meaning how long
+would the city editor wait for the story.
+
+"Till one-thirty.  You ought to be back by midnight.  It's only eight
+now."
+
+"All right; Henderson's approachable.  I may get a good story out of
+him."
+
+"Maybe," thought Gregg, who had lost nothing of this conversation.
+
+It was his opportunity.  He immediately left the zone of the city desk
+for a telephone booth.  But as he passed the line of desks and busy
+reporters he did not note the keen scrutiny of a smooth-faced,
+gray-haired man who stood at the side of Norton's desk awaiting the
+reporter's return.
+
+"Why, Jones," cried the surprised Norton.  "What are you doing all this
+way from home?"
+
+"Orders," said Jones, smiling faintly as he delivered a note to the
+reporter.
+
+"Anything serious?"
+
+"Not that I am aware of.  Miss Florence was rather particular.  She
+wanted to be sure that the note reached your hands safely."
+
+"And do you mean to say that you came away and left her alone in that
+house?"
+
+Again Jones smiled.  "I left her well guarded, you may be sure of that.
+She will never run away again."  He waited for Norton to read the note.
+
+It was nothing more than one of those love orders to come and call at
+once.  And she had made Jones venture into town with it!  The reporter
+smiled and put the note away tenderly.  And then he caught Jones
+smiling, too.
+
+"I'm going to marry her, Jones."
+
+"That remains to be seen," replied the butler, not unkindly.
+
+"Well, anyhow, thanks for bringing the note.  But I've got to
+disappoint her to-night.  I'm off in a deuce of a hurry to interview
+General Henderson.  I'll be out to tea to-morrow.  You can find your
+way out of this old firetrap.  By-by!"
+
+The moment he turned away the smile faded from Jones' face, and with
+the quickness and noiselessness of a cat he reached the side of the
+booth in which Gregg believed himself so secure from eavesdropping.
+The half dozen words Jones heard convinced him that Norton was again
+the object of the Black Hundred's attention.  He had seen the man's
+face that memorable night when the balloon stopped for its passenger.
+Before Gregg came out of the booth Jones decided to overtake Norton and
+forewarn him, but unfortunately the reporter was nowhere in sight.
+
+There was left for Jones nothing else but to return home or follow when
+Gregg came out.  As this night he knew Florence to be exceptionally
+well guarded, both within and without the house, he decided to wait and
+follow the spy.
+
+When Braine received the message he was pleased.  Norton's assignment
+fitted his purpose like a glove.  Before midnight he would have Mr.
+Meddling Reporter where he would bother no one for some time--if he
+proved tractable.  If not, he would never bother any one again.  Braine
+gave his orders tersely.  Unless Norton met with unforeseen delay,
+nothing could prevent his capture.
+
+When Norton arrived at the Henderson place, a footman informed him from
+the veranda that General Henderson was at 49 Elm Street for the
+evening, and it would be wise to call there.  Jim nodded his thanks and
+set off in haste for 49 Elm Street.  The footman did not enter the
+house, but hurried down the steps and slunk off among the adjacent
+shrubbery.  His mission was over with.
+
+The house in Elm Street was Braine's suburban establishment.  He went
+there occasionally to hibernate, as it were, to grow a new skin when
+close pressed.  The caretaker was a man rightly called Samson.  He was
+a bruiser of the bouncer type.
+
+It was fast work for Braine to get out there.  If the man disguised as
+a footman played his cards badly Braine would have all his trouble for
+nothing.  He disguised himself with that infernal cleverness which had
+long since made him a terror to the police, who were looking for ten
+different men instead of one.  He knew that Norton would understand
+instantly that he was not the general; but on the other hand he would
+not know that he was addressing Braine.
+
+So the arch-conspirator waited; and so Norton arrived and was ushered
+into the room.  A single glance was enough to satisfy the reporter,
+always keen-eyed and observant.
+
+"I wish to see General Henderson," he said politely.
+
+"General Henderson is doubtless at his own house."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Don't be alarmed--yet," said Braine smoothly.
+
+"I am not alarmed," replied Norton.  "I am only chagrined.  Since
+General Henderson is not to be found here I must be excused."
+
+"I will excuse you presently."
+
+"Ah!  I begin to see."
+
+"Indeed!" mocked Braine.
+
+"I have tumbled or walked into a trap."
+
+"A keen mind like yours must have recognized that fact the moment you
+discovered that I was not the general."
+
+"I am indebted to the Black Hundred?" coolly.
+
+"Precisely.  We do not wish you ill, Mr. Norton."
+
+"To be sure, no!" ironically.  "What with falling safes, poisoned
+cigarettes, and so forth, I can readily see that you have my welfare at
+heart.  What puzzled me was the suddenness with which these
+affectionate signs ceased."
+
+"You're a man of heart," said Braine with genuine admiration.  "These
+affectionate signs, as you call them, ceased because for the time being
+you ceased to be a menace.  You have become that once more, and here
+you are!"
+
+"And what are you going to do with me now that you have got me?"
+
+"There will be two courses."  Braine reached into a drawer and drew out
+a thick roll of bills.  "There are here something like $5,000."
+
+"Quite a tidy sum; enough for a chap to get married on."
+
+The two eyed each other steadily.  And in his heart Braine sighed.  For
+he saw in this young man's eyes incorruptibility.
+
+"It is yours on one condition," said Braine, reaching out his foot
+stealthily toward the button which would summon Samson.
+
+"And that is," interpolated Norton, "that I join the Black Hundred."
+
+"Or the great beyond, my lad," took up Braine, his voice crisp and cold.
+
+Norton could not repress a shiver.  Where had he heard this voice
+before? ... Braine!  He stiffened.
+
+"Murder in cold blood?" he managed to say.
+
+"Indefinite imprisonment.  Choose."
+
+"I have chosen."
+
+"H'm!"  Braine rose and went over to the sideboard for the brandy.
+"I'm going to offer you a drink to show you that personally there are
+no hard feelings.  You are in the way.  After you, our friend, Jones.
+This brandy is not poisoned, neither are the glasses.  Choose either
+and I'll drink first.  We are all desperate men, Norton; and we stop at
+nothing.  Your life hangs by a hair.  Do you know where Hargreave is?"
+
+Norton eyed his liquor thoughtfully.
+
+"Do you know where the money is?"
+
+Norton smelt of the brandy.
+
+"I am sorry," said Braine.  "I should have liked to win over a head
+like yours."
+
+Norton nonchalantly took out his watch, and that bit of bravado perhaps
+saved his life.  In the case of his watch he saw a brutal face behind
+him.  Without a tremor, Norton took up his glass.
+
+"I am sorry to disappoint you," he said, "but I shall neither join you
+nor go to by-by."
+
+Quick as a bird shadow above grass, he flung his brandy over his
+shoulder into the face of the man behind.  Samson yelled with pain.
+Almost at the same instant Norton pushed over the table, upsetting
+Braine with it.  Next he dashed through the curtains, slammed the door,
+and fled to the street, very shaky about the knees, if the truth is to
+be told.
+
+General Henderson's views upon the latest Balkan muddle were missing
+from the _Blade_ the following morning.  Norton, instead of returning
+to the general's and fulfilling his assignment like a dutiful reporter,
+hurried out to Riverside to acquaint Jones with what had happened.
+Jones was glad to see him safe and sound.
+
+"That new reporter started the game," he said.  "I overheard a word or
+two while he was talking in the booth.  All your telephone booths are
+ramshackle affairs, you use them so constantly.  I tried to find you,
+but you were out of sight.  Now, tell me what happened."
+
+"Sh!" warned Norton as he spied Florence coming down the stairs.
+
+"I thought you couldn't come!" she cried.  "But ten o'clock!"
+
+"I changed my mind," he replied, laughing.
+
+He caught her arm in his and drew her toward the library.  Jones smiled
+after them with that enigmatical smile of his, which might have
+signified irony or affection.  After half an hour's chat, Florence,
+quite unaware that the two men wished to talk, retired.
+
+At the door Norton told Jones what had taken place at 49 Elm Street.
+
+"Ah! we must not forget that number," mused Jones.  "My advice is, keep
+an eye on this Gregg chap.  We may get somewhere by watching him."
+
+"Do you know where Hargreave is?"
+
+Jones scratched his chin reflectively.
+
+Norton laughed.  "I can't get anything out of you."
+
+"Much less any one else.  I'm growing fond of you, my boy.  You're a
+man."
+
+"Thanks; and good night."
+
+When Olga Perigoff called the next day Jones divested himself of his
+livery, donned a plain coat and hat, and left the house stealthily.
+To-day he was determined to learn something definite in regard to this
+suave, handsome Russian.  When she left the house Jones rose from his
+hiding place and proceeded to follow her.  The result of this espionage
+on the part of Jones will be seen presently.
+
+Meantime Jim went down to the office and lied cheerfully about his
+missing the general.  Whether the city editor believed him or not is of
+no matter.  Jim went over to his desk.  From the corner of his eye he
+could see Gregg scribbling away.  He never raised his head as Jim sat
+down to read his mail.  After a while Gregg rose and left the office;
+and, of course, Jim left shortly afterward.  When the newcomer saw that
+he was being followed, he smiled and continued on his way.  This Norton
+chap was suspicious.  All the better; his suspicions should be made the
+hook to land him with.  By and by the man turned into a drug store and
+Jim loitered about till he reappeared.  Gregg walked with brisker steps
+now.  It was his intention to lead Norton on a wild goose chase for an
+hour or so, long enough to give Braine time to arrange a welcome at
+another house.
+
+Norton kept perhaps half a block in the rear of his man all the while.
+But for this caution he would have witnessed a little pantomime that
+would have put him wholly upon his guard.  Turning a corner, Gregg all
+but bumped into the countess.  He was quick enough to place a finger on
+his lips and motion his head toward a taxicab.  Olga hadn't the least
+idea who was coming around the corner, but she hailed the cab and was
+off in it before Jim swung around the corner.
+
+Jones, who had followed the countess for something over an hour and a
+half, hugged a doorway.  What now? he wondered.  The countess knew the
+man.  That was evidence enough for the astute butler.  But what meant
+the pantomime and the subsequent hurry?  He soon learned.  The man
+Gregg went his way, and then Jim turned the corner.  Jones cast a
+wistful glance at the vanishing cab of the Russian, and decided to
+shadow the shadower--in other words, to follow the reporter, to see
+that nothing serious befell him.
+
+The lurer finally paused at a door, opened it with a key and swung it
+behind him, very careful, however, not to spring the latch.  Naturally
+Jim was mightily pleased when he found the door could be opened.  When
+Jones, not far behind, saw him open the door, he started to call out a
+warning, but thought the better of it.  If Norton was walking into a
+trap it was far better that he, Jones, should remain outside of it.  If
+Jim did not appear after a certain length of time, he would start an
+investigation on his own account.
+
+No sooner was Jim in the hallway than he was set upon and overpowered.
+They had in this house what was known as "the punishment room."  Here
+traitors paid the reckoning and were never more heard of.  Into this
+room Jim was unceremoniously dropped when Braine found that he could
+get no information from the resolute reporter.
+
+The room did not look sinister, but for all that it possessed the
+faculty of growing smaller and smaller, slowly or swiftly, as the man
+above at the lever willed.  When Jim was apprised of this fact, he ran
+madly about in search of some mode of escape, knowing full well in his
+heart that he should not find one.
+
+Presently the machinery began to work, and Norton's tongue grew dry
+with terror.  They had him this time; there was not the least doubt of
+it.  And they had led him there by the nose into the bargain.
+
+Twenty minutes passed, and Jones concluded it was time for him to act.
+He went forward to try the door, but this time it was locked.  Jones,
+however, was not without resource.  The house next door was vacant, and
+he found a way into this, finally reaching the roof.  From this he
+jumped to the other roof, found the scuttle open, and crept down the
+stairs, flight after flight, till the whir of a motor arrested him.
+
+Conspirators are often overeager, too.  So intent were the rascals upon
+the business at hand that they did not notice the door open slowly.  It
+did not take the butler more than a moment to realize that his friend
+and ally was near certain death.  With an oath he sprang into the room,
+gave Braine a push which sent him down to join the victim, and pitched
+into the other two.  It was a battle royal while it lasted.  Jones
+knocked down one of them, yelled to Norton, and kicked the rope he saw
+down into the pit.  One end of this rope was attached to a ring in the
+wall.  And up this rope Norton swarmed after he had disposed of Braine.
+The tide of battle then swung about in favor of the butler, and shortly
+the fake reporter and his companion were made to join their chief.
+
+Jones stopped the machinery.  He could not bring himself to let his
+enemies die so horribly.  Later he knew he would regret this sentiment.
+
+When the people came, summoned by some outsider who had heard the
+racket of the conflict, there was no one to be found in the pit.  Nor
+was there any visible sign of an exit.
+
+There was one, however, built against such an hour and known only to
+the chiefs of the Black Hundred.
+
+And still the golden-tinted banknotes reposed tranquilly in their
+hiding place!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+About this time--that is to say, about the time the Black Hundred was
+stretching out its powerful secret arms toward Norton--there arrived in
+New York city a personage.  This personage was the Princess Parlova, a
+fabulously rich Polish Russian.  She leased a fine house near Central
+Park and set about to conquer social New York.  This was not very
+difficult, for her title was perfectly genuine and she moved in the
+most exclusive diplomatic circle in Europe, which, as everybody knows,
+is the most brilliant in the world.  When the new home was completely
+decorated she gave an elaborate dinner, and that attracted the
+newspapers.  They began to talk about her highness, printed portraits
+of her, and devoted a page occasionally in the Sunday editions.  She
+became something of a rage.  One morning it was announced that the
+Princess Parlova would give a masked ball formally to open her home to
+society; and it was this notice that first brought the Princess Parlova
+under Braine's eyes.  He was at the Perigoff apartment at the time.
+
+"Well, well," he mused aloud.
+
+"What is it?" asked Olga, turning away from the piano and ending one of
+Chopin's mazurkas brokenly.
+
+"Here is the Princess Parlova in town."
+
+"And who is she?"
+
+"She is the real thing, Olga; a real princess with vast estates in
+Poland with which the greedy Slav next door has been very gentle."
+
+"I haven't paid much attention to the social news lately.  What about
+her?"
+
+"She is giving a masked ball formally to open her house on the West
+Side.  And it's going to cost a pretty penny."
+
+"Well, you're not telling me this to make me want to know the
+princess," said Olga, petulantly.
+
+"No.  But I'm going to give you a letter of introduction to her
+highness."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"And you are going to ask her to invite two particular friends of yours
+to this wonderful ball of hers."
+
+"Indeed," ironically.  "That sounds all very easy."
+
+"Easier than you think, my child."
+
+"I will not have you call me child."
+
+"Well, then, Olga."
+
+"That's better.  Now, how will it be easier than I think?"
+
+"Simply this; the Princess Parlova is an oath-bound member, but has not
+been active for years."
+
+"Oho!"  Olga was all animation now.  "Go on!"
+
+"You will go to her with a letter of introduction--no!  Better than
+that, you will make a formal call and show her this ring.  You know the
+ring," he said, passing the talisman to the countess.  "Show this to
+her and she will obey you in everything.  She will have no alternative."
+
+"Very good," replied Olga.  "And then the program is to insist that she
+invite Florence and that fool of a reporter to this ball.  Then what?"
+
+"You can leave that to me."
+
+"Haven't all these failures been a warning?"
+
+"No, my dear.  I was born optimistic; but there's a jinx somewhere in
+one of my pockets.  Time after time I've had everything just where I
+wanted it, and then--poof!  It's pure bald luck on their side, but
+sooner or later the wheel will turn.  And any chance that offers I am
+bound to accept.  Somehow or other we may be able to trap Florence and
+Norton.  I want both of them.  If I can get them, Jones will be forced
+to draw in Hargreave."
+
+"Is there such a man?"
+
+"You saw him that night at the restaurant."
+
+"I have often thought that perhaps I just dreamed it."  She turned
+again to the piano and began humming idly.
+
+"Stop that and listen to me," said Braine, not in quite the best of
+tempers.  "I'm in no mood for whims."
+
+"Music does not soothe your soul, then?" cynically.
+
+"If I had one it might.  You will call on the Princess Parlova
+to-morrow afternoon.  It depends upon you what my plans will be.  I
+think you'll have little trouble in getting into the presence of her
+highness, and once there she will not be able to resist you."
+
+"I'll go."
+
+And go she did.  The footman in green livery hesitated for a moment,
+but the title on the visiting card was quite sufficient.  He bowed the
+countess into the reception room and went in search of his
+distinguished mistress.
+
+The Princess Parlova was a handsome woman verging upon middle age.  She
+was a patrician; Olga's keen eye discerned that instantly.  She came
+into the reception room with that dignified serenity which would have
+impressed any one as genuine.  She held the card in her fingers and
+smiled inquiringly toward her guest.
+
+"I confess," she began, "that I recall neither your face nor your name.
+I am sorry.  Where have I had the honor of meeting you before?"
+
+"You have never met me before, your highness," answered Olga sweetly.
+
+"You came on a charity errand, then?"
+
+"That depends, your highness.  Will you be so good as to glance at
+this?" Olga asked, holding out her palm upon which the talisman lay.
+
+The princess shrank back, paling.
+
+"Where did you get that?" she panted.
+
+"From the head," was the answer.
+
+"And you have followed me from Russia?" whispered the princess, her
+terror growing.
+
+"Oh, no.  The Black Hundred is as strongly organized here as in St.
+Petersburg.  But we always keep track of old members, especially when
+they stand so high in the world as yourself."
+
+"But I was deceived and betrayed!" exclaimed the princess.  "They urged
+me to join on the ground that the organization was to attempt to bring
+about the freedom of Poland."
+
+Olga shrugged.  "You were rich, highness.  The Black Hundred needed
+money!"
+
+"And you need it now?" eagerly, believing that she saw a loophole.
+"How much?  Oh, I will give a hundred thousand rubles on your promise
+to leave me alone.  Tell me!"
+
+"I am sorry, your highness, but I have no authority to accept such an
+offer.  Indeed, my errand is far from being expensive.  All the Black
+Hundred desires is four invitations to this ball which you are soon to
+give.  That should mot cause you any alarm.  We shall not interfere
+with your sojourn in America in any way whatsoever, provided these
+invitations are issued."
+
+"You would rob my guests?" horrified.
+
+"Positively no!  Here is a list of four names.  Invite them; that is
+all you have to do.  Not so much as a silver spoon will be found
+missing.  This is on my word of honor, and I never break that word, if
+you please."
+
+"Give me the list," said the princess wearily.  "Who gave you that
+ring?"
+
+"The head."
+
+"In Russia?"
+
+"No; here in America."  Olga dipped into her handbag and produced a
+slip of paper.  This she handed to the princess.  "Here is the list,
+highness."
+
+"Who is Florence Hargreave?"
+
+"A friend of mine," evasively.
+
+"Does she belong to the organization?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you have some ulterior purpose in having me invite her?"
+
+"I have," answered Olga sharply; "but that does not concern your
+highness in the least."
+
+The princess bit her lips.  "I see your name here also; a man named
+Braine, and another, Norton."
+
+"Say at once that you do not care to execute the wishes--the
+commands--of the order," said Olga coldly.
+
+"I will do as you wish.  And I beg you now to excuse me.  But if
+anything happens to any of my personal friends--"
+
+"Well?" haughtily from Olga.
+
+"Well, I will put the matter in the hands of the police."
+
+"But so long as your personal friends are not concerned?"
+
+"I shall then of necessity remain deaf and blind.  It is one of the
+penalties I must pay for my folly.  I wish you good day."
+
+"And also good riddance," murmured Olga under her breath, as she arose
+and started for the hallway.
+
+Thus it was that when Norton went to the office the next afternoon he
+found a broad white envelope on his desk.  Indifferently he opened the
+same and his eyes bulged.  "Princess Parlova requests" and so forth and
+so on.  Then he shrugged.  The chief had probably asked for the
+invitation and he would have to write up the doings, a phase of
+reportorial work eminently distasteful to him.  He went up to the city
+desk.
+
+"Can't you find some one else to do this stuff?" he growled to the city
+editor.
+
+The city editor glanced at the card and crested envelope.  "Good lord,
+man!  Nobody in this office had anything to do with that.  What luck!
+Our Miss Hayes tried all manner of schemes, but was rebuffed on all
+sides.  How the deuce did you chance to get one?"
+
+"Search me," said the bewildered Norton.
+
+"If I were you I'd sit tight and take it all in," advised the editor.
+"It's going to be the biggest splurge of its kind we've had in years.
+We've been working every wire we know to get Miss Hayes inside, but it
+was no go.  This princess is not on to the game yet.  In this country
+you get into society or you don't through the Sundays."
+
+"Hanged if I know who wished this thing on me."
+
+"Take it philosophically," said the editor sarcastically.  "The
+princess won't bite you.  She may even have seen your picture--"
+
+"Get out!" grumbled Norton, turning away.
+
+He would go out and see Florence.  On the way out to Riverdale he came
+to the conclusion that the list of the princess fell short and some
+friend of his who was helping the woman out suggested his name.  It was
+the only way he could account for it.
+
+But when he learned that Florence had an invitation exactly like his
+own and that she received it that morning he became suspicious.
+
+"Jones, what do you think of it?" he questioned.
+
+"I think it was very kind of the Countess Perigoff suggesting your name
+and that of Florence," said the butler urbanely.
+
+"Olga?" cried Florence disappointedly.
+
+"It is the only logical deduction I can make," declared Jones.  "They
+are both practically Russians."
+
+"And what would you advise?" asked Norton.
+
+"Why, go and enjoy yourselves.  Forewarned is forearmed.  The thing is,
+be very careful not to acquaint any one with the character of your
+disguise, least of all the Countess Perigoff.  Besides," Jones added
+smiling, "perhaps I may go myself."
+
+"Goody!  I've read about masked balls and have always been crazy to go
+to one," said Florence with eagerness.
+
+"Suppose we go at once and pick out some costumes?" suggested Norton.
+
+"Just as soon as I can get my hat on," replied Florence, happy as a
+lark.
+
+"But mind," warned Jones; "be sure that you see the costumer alone and
+that no one else is about."
+
+"I'll take particular care," agreed Norton.  "We've got to do some
+hustling to find something suitable.  For a big affair like this the
+town will be ransacked.  All aboard!  There's room for two in that car
+of mine; and we can have a spin besides.  Hang work!"
+
+Florence laughed, and even Jones permitted a smile (which was not grim
+this time) to stir his lips.
+
+A happy person is generally unobservant.  Two happy persons together
+are totally unobservant of what passes around them.  In plainer terms
+this lack is called love.  And being frankly in love with each other,
+neither Norton nor Florence observed that a taxicab followed them into
+town.  Jones, not being in love, was keenly observant; but the taxicab
+took up the trail two blocks away, so the matter wholly escaped Jones'
+eye.
+
+The two went into several costumers', but eventually discovered a shop
+on a side street that had been overlooked by those invited to the
+masquerade.  They had a merry time rummaging among the
+camphory-smelling boxes.  There were dominoes of all colors, and at
+length they agreed upon two modest ones that were evenly matched in
+color and design.  Florence ordered them to be sent home.  Then the two
+of them sallied up to the Ritz-Carleton and had tea.
+
+The man from the taxicab entered the costumer's, displayed a
+detective's shield and demanded that the proprietor show him the
+costumes selected by the two young people who had just left.  The man
+obeyed wonderingly.
+
+"I want a pair exactly like these," said the detective.  "How much?"
+
+"Two dollars each, rental; seven apiece if you wish to buy them."
+
+"I'll buy them."
+
+The detective paid the bill, nodded curtly, and returned to his taxicab.
+
+"Now, I wonder," mused the costumer, "what the dickens those
+innocent-looking young people are up to?"  He never found out.
+
+On the night of the ball Norton dined with Florence for the first time;
+and for once in his life he experienced that petty disturbance of
+collective thought called embarrassment.  To talk over war plans with
+Jones was one thing, but to have Jones serve soup was altogether
+another.  All through dinner Jones replied to questions with no more
+and no less than "Yes, sir," and "No, sir."  Norton was beginning to
+learn that this strange man could put on a dozen kinds of armor and
+always retain his individuality.  And to-night there seemed something
+vaguely familiar about the impassive face of the butler, as if he had
+seen it somewhere in the past, but could not tell when or where.  As he
+and Florence were leaving for the automobile which was to take them to
+the princess', the truth came home to him with the shock of a douche of
+ice-cold water.  Under his breath he murmured: "You're a wonderful man,
+Jones; and I take my hat off to you with the deepest admiration.  Hang
+me!"
+
+"What are you mumbling about?" asked the happy girl.
+
+"Was I mumbling?  Perhaps I was going over my catechism.  I haven't
+been out in society in so long that I've forgotten how to act."
+
+"I believe that.  We've been in here for five minutes and you haven't
+told me that you love me."
+
+"Good heavens!"  And his arms went around her so tightly that she
+begged for quarter.
+
+"How strong you are!"
+
+The splendor of the rooms, the dazzling array of jewels, the
+kaleidoscopic colors, the perfume of the banked flowers and the music
+all combined to put Florence into a pleasurable kind of trance.  And it
+was only when the first waltz began that she became herself and
+surrendered to the arms of the man she loved.
+
+And they were waltzing over a volcano.  She knew and he knew it.  From
+what direction would the blow come?  Well, they were prepared for all
+manner of tricks.
+
+In an alcove off the ballroom sat Braine and Olga, both dressed exactly
+like Norton and Florence.  Another man and woman entered presently, and
+Braine spoke to them for a moment, as if giving instructions, which was
+indeed the case.
+
+The band crashed into another dance, and the masqueraders began
+swirling hither and thither and yon.  A gay cavalier suddenly stopped
+in front of Florence.
+
+"Enchantress, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"
+
+Jim touched Florence's hand.  But she turned laughingly toward the
+stranger.  What difference did it make?  The man would never know who
+she was nor would she know him.  It was a lark, that was all; and
+despite Jim's warning touch she was up and away like the mischievous
+sprite that she was.  Jim remained in his chair, twisting his fingers
+and wondering whether to laugh or grow angry.  After all, he could not
+blame her.  To him an affair like this was an ancient story; to her it
+was the door of fairyland swung open.  Let her enjoy herself.
+
+Florence was having a splendid time.  Her partner was asking her all
+sorts of questions and she was replying in kind, when out of the crowd
+came Norton (as she supposed), who touched her arm.  The cavalier
+stopped, bowed and made off.
+
+Norton whispered: "I have made an important discovery.  We must be off
+at once.  Come with me."
+
+Florence, without the least suspicion in the world, followed him up the
+broad staircase.  What with the many sounds it was not to be wondered
+at that the difference in the quality of voices did not strike
+Florence's ear as odd.  The result of her confidence was that upon
+reaching the upper halls, opposite the dressing rooms, she was suddenly
+thrust into a room and made prisoner.  When the light was turned up she
+recognized with horror the woman who had helped to kidnap her and take
+her away on the _George Washington_ weeks ago.  She could not have
+cried out for help if she had tried.
+
+Meantime Jim got up and began to wander about in search of Florence.
+
+Braine played a clever game that night.  He and the Russian, still
+dominoed like Norton and Florence, ordered the Hargreave auto, by
+number, entered it and were driven up to the porte-cochere of the
+Hargreave house.  The two alighted, the chauffeur sent the car toward
+the garage, and Braine and his companion ran lightly down the path to
+the street where the cab which had followed picked them up.
+
+It grew more and more evident to Jim that something untoward had taken
+place.  He could not find Florence anywhere, in the alcoves, in the
+side rooms, the supper or card room.  Later, to his utter amazement, he
+was informed that the Hargreave auto had some time since been called
+and its owner taken home.  Some one had taken his place.
+
+His first sensation was impotent fury against Jones, who had permitted
+them to play with fire.  He flung out of the mansion unceremoniously,
+commandeered a cab, and flew out to Riverdale.  And when Jones came to
+the door he was staggering with sleep.
+
+"What's the matter with you?" demanded Jim roughly.  "Where's Florence?"
+
+"Isn't she with you?" cried Jones, making an effort to dispel the
+drowsiness.  "What time is it?" suddenly.
+
+"Midnight!  Where is she?"
+
+"Midnight?  I've been drugged!"
+
+Without a word Jones staggered off to the kitchens, Jim at his heels.
+
+There was always hot water, and within five minutes Jones had drunk two
+cups of raw strong coffee.
+
+"Drugged!" he murmured.  "Some one in the house!  I'll attend to that
+later.  Now, the chauffeur."
+
+But the chauffeur swore on his oath that he had left Jim and Florence
+on the steps of the porte-cochere.
+
+"Get in!" said Jones to Norton, now fully alive.  He could not get it
+out of his head that some one in the house had drugged him.
+
+The events which followed were to both Jones and Norton something like
+a series of nightmares.  In the new home of the Princess Parlova a bomb
+had exploded and fire followed the explosion.  From pleasure to terror
+is only a step.  The wildest confusion imaginable ensued.  Most of the
+guests were of the opinion that some anarchist had attempted to blow up
+the house of the rich Pole.  Jones and Norton arrived just as the smoke
+began to pour out from the windows.  A crowd had already collected.
+
+Then Jim overheard a woman masquerader say: "The fool made the bomb too
+strong.  She is in the room on the second floor.  The game is up if she
+suffocates----"  The voice trailed off and the woman became lost in the
+crowd.  But it was enough for the reporter, who pushed his way roughly
+through the excited masqueraders and entered the house.  The rescue was
+one of the most exciting to be found in the newspaper files of the day.
+
+So Braine in his effort to scare everybody from the house had
+overreached himself once more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+Florence was a fortnight in recovering from the shock of her experience
+at the masked ball of the Princess Parlova, who, by the way,
+disappeared from New York shortly after the fire, no doubt because of
+her fear of the Black Hundred.  The fire did not destroy the house, but
+most of the furnishings were so thoroughly drenched by water that they
+were practically ruined.  Her coming and going were a nine-days'
+wonder, and then the public found something else to talk about.
+
+Norton was a constant visitor at the Hargreave place.  There was to him
+a new interest in that mysterious house, with its hidden panels, its
+false floors, its secret tunnels; but he treated Jones upon the same
+basis as hitherto.  One thing, however: He felt a sense of security in
+regard to Florence such as he had not felt before.  So, between
+assignments, he ran out to Riverdale and did what he could to amuse his
+sweetheart.  Later they took short rides in the runabout, and at length
+she became as lively as she had ever been.
+
+But often she would catch Norton brooding.
+
+"What makes you frown like that?"
+
+"Was I frowning?" innocently enough.
+
+"I find you this way a dozen times in an afternoon.  What is the
+matter?  Are they after you again?"
+
+"Heavens, no!  I'm only a vague issue.  They will not bother me so long
+as I do not bother them.  It has dwindled into a game of truce."
+
+"Do you think so?" eying him curiously.
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+"What's the use of trying to fool me, Jim?  If they haven't been after
+you, you are sensing a presage of evil.  I'm not a child any longer.
+Haven't I been through enough to make me a woman?  Sometimes I feel
+very old."
+
+"To me you are the most charming in all this wide world.  No, you're
+not a child any longer.  You are a woman, brave and patient; and I know
+that I could trust you with any secret I have or own.  But sometimes a
+person may have a secret which is not his and which he hasn't any right
+to disclose."
+
+She became silent for a while.  "I hate money," she said.  "I hate it,
+hate it!"
+
+"It's mighty comfortable to have it around sometimes," he countered.
+
+"As in my case, for instance.  If I were poor and had to work no one
+would bother me."
+
+"I would!" he declared, laughing.  "Come; let's throw off moods and go
+into town for tea at the Rose Garden; and if you feel strong enough
+we'll trip the light fantastic."
+
+They had been gone from the house less than an hour when a man ran up
+the steps of the veranda and rang the bell.  Jones being busy at the
+rear of the house, the maid came to the door.
+
+"Is Miss Hargreave in?" the stranger asked.
+
+"No," abruptly.  The door began to close ever so slowly
+
+"Do you know where I can find her?"
+
+The maid eyed him with covert keenness; then, remembering that the
+reporter was with Florence, said: "I believe she is at the Rose Garden
+this afternoon."
+
+"That is in town?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Thanks."  The man turned abruptly and ran down the steps.
+
+The maid ran back to Jones.
+
+"Why didn't you call me?" he demanded impatiently.
+
+"There wasn't time."
+
+"Did you tell him where she was?"
+
+"Yes.  But I shouldn't have told him if Mr. Norton had not been with
+Miss Florence."
+
+Jones ran to the front, dashed out, eyed the back of the man hastening
+down the street, smiled, and returned to his work, or, rather, to the
+maid.  He took her by the shoulder, whirled her about, and shot a look
+into her eyes that quailed her.
+
+"Always call me hereafter, no matter what I'm doing.  That man has
+never laid eyes on Florence and has no idea what she looks like.  Why
+did you drug my coffee the night of that ball?"
+
+She stepped back.
+
+"And how much did they pay you for letting that doctor send Florence to
+Atlantic City?  I know everything.  Hereafter, walk straight.  If you
+play another trick I'll kill you with these two hands.  And listen and
+tell this to your confederates: I always know every move they make;
+that is why no one is missing from this house.  There is a traitor.
+Let them find him if they can.  Will you walk straight, or will you
+leave?"
+
+"I--I will walk straight," she faltered.  "The money was too big a
+temptation."
+
+"Did they give it to you?"
+
+"Yes.  And more to stay here.  But this is the first bit of dishonest
+work I ever did."
+
+"Well, remember what I have said.  Another misstep and I'll make an end
+to you.  Don't think I'm trying to scare you.  You have witnessed
+enough to know that it's life and death in this house.  Now run along."
+
+At the garden Jim and Florence sauntered among the crowd, not having
+any particular objective point in view.
+
+"Sh!" whispered Jim.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Olga Perigoff is yonder in a box."
+
+"Very well; let us go and sit with her.  Is she alone?"
+
+"Apparently.  But don't you think we'd better go elsewhere?"
+
+"My dear young man," said Florence with mock loftiness, "Olga Perigoff
+has written me down as a simple young fool, and that is why, sooner or
+later, I'm going to put the shoe on the other foot.  You and Jones have
+coddled me long enough.  Inasmuch as I am the stake they are playing
+for, I intend to have something more than a speaking part in the play."
+
+"All right; you're the admiral," he said with pretended lightness.
+
+So the two of them joined their subtle enemy, conscious of a tingle of
+zest as they did so.  On her part, the countess was always suspicious
+of this sleepy-eyed reporter.  She never could tell how much he knew.
+But of Florence she was reasonably certain; and so long as she could
+fool the pretty infant the suspicions of the reporter were a negligible
+quantity.  She greeted them effusively and offered them chairs.  For
+half an hour they sat there, chatting inanities, all the while each
+mind was busy with deeper concerns.
+
+When the man in search of Florence eventually arrived and asked the
+manager of the garden if he knew Miss Hargreave by sight the manager
+pointed toward the box.  The man wound his way in and out of the idlers
+and by the time he reached the box Jim and Florence had made their
+departure.  The man bowed, approached, and asked the countess if she
+was Miss Hargreave.  For a moment Olga suspected a trap.  Then it
+appealed to her mind that if there was no trap it might be well to pose
+as Florence, if only to learn what the outcome might be.
+
+"Yes.  What is wanted?" she asked.
+
+The man took a letter from his pocket and handed it to Olga, saying:
+"Give this to your father.  He knows how to read it."
+
+[Illustration: "GIVE THIS TO YOUR FATHER.  HE KNOWS HOW TO READ IT"]
+
+Before she could reply the man had turned and was hurrying away.
+
+Olga opened the note, her heart beating furiously.  It was utterly
+blank.  At first she thought it was a hoax.  Then she happened to
+remember that there was such a thing as invisible ink.  At last!
+Hargreave was alive; this letter settled all doubt in her mind on this
+question.  Alive!  And not only that, but the girl and Jones were
+evidently in communication with him.  She summoned a waiter, made a
+secret sign, and he bowed and approached.  She slipped the letter into
+his hand and whispered: "Show that at the cave to-morrow.  It is in
+invisible ink and meant for Hargreave."
+
+"He's alive?"
+
+"Positively."
+
+"Very well."  The waiter bowed and strolled away nonchalantly.
+
+Braine was in Boston over night, otherwise the countess would have
+taken the mysterious note at once to him.  She remained for perhaps a
+quarter of an hour longer and then left the garden.  She would have
+taken the letter to her own apartment but for the fact that the
+chemicals needed were hidden in the cave.
+
+Now it happened that Florence went out for her early ride the next
+morning, and crossing a field she saw a man with a bundle under his
+arm.  The sun struck his profile and limned it plainly, and Florence
+uttered a low cry.  The man had not observed her.  So, very quietly,
+she slipped from the horse, tethered it to a tree, and started after
+the man to learn what he was doing so far from the city.  She would
+never forget that face.  She had seen it that dreadful night when the
+note had lured her into the hands of her enemies.  The face belonged to
+the man who had impersonated her father.
+
+It occurred to her that she might just as well do a little detective
+work on her own hook.  She had passed through so many terrifying
+episodes that she was beginning to crave for the excitement, strange as
+this may seem.  Like a gambler who has once played for high stakes, she
+no longer found pleasure in thimbles and needles and pins.  She
+followed the man with no little skill and at length she saw him
+approach a knoll, stoop, apparently press a spring, and a hole suddenly
+yawned.  The man vanished quickly, and the spot took on again its
+virginal appearance.  A cave.  Florence had the patience to wait.  By
+and by the man appeared again and slunk away.
+
+When she was sure that he was beyond range, she came out from the place
+of concealment, crept up the knoll, and searched about for the magic
+handle of this strange door.  Diligence rewarded her, and she soon
+found herself in a large, musty, earth-smelling cave.  Loot was
+scattered about, and there were boxes and chairs and a large chest.
+Men evidently met here, possibly after some desperate adventure against
+society.  She found nothing to reward her hardihood, and as she was in
+the act of moving toward the cave's door she beheld with terror that it
+was moving!
+
+[Illustration: FLORENCE DISCOVERS THE CAVE]
+
+She was near the chest at that moment.  The cave was not a deep one.
+There was no tunnel, only a wall.  Resolutely she raised the lid of the
+chest, stepped inside, and drew the lid down.  She was just in time.
+The door opened and three men entered, talking volubly.  They felt
+perfectly secure in talking as loudly as they pleased.  To Florence it
+seemed almost impossible that they did not hear the thunder of her
+heart?  Strain her ears as she might, she could gather but little of
+what they said, except:
+
+"If Hargreave had this paper we might all be put on the defensive.  To
+an outsider it is a blank paper.  But the boss will be able to read
+it...."  The speaker moved away from the vicinity of the chest and she
+heard no more.
+
+Very deftly Florence raised the lid just enough to peep out.  The man
+who had been talking was putting the note in his hip pocket.  As he
+turned toward the chest he sat down on the soap-box immediately in
+front of the chest.  An inspiration came to the girl, an exceedingly
+daring one.  She took her liberty in her hands as she executed the
+deed.  But the dimness of the cave aided her.  When she crouched down
+again the magic paper was hers.
+
+It seemed hours to her before the men left the cave.  As she heard the
+hidden door jar in closing she raised the lid and stepped out,
+breathing deeply.  The paper she had purloined was indeed blank, but
+Jones or Jim would know what to do with it.  And wouldn't they be
+surprised when she told them what she had accomplished all alone?  Her
+exultation was of short duration.  She heard the whine of the door on
+its hinges.  The men were returning.  Why?
+
+They were returning because they had discovered a woman's shoeprint
+outside.  It pointed toward the cave, freshly, and there was none
+coming away.  To re-enter the chest would be foolhardy.  It would be
+the first place the men would look.  She glanced about desperately.
+She saw but one chance, the well.  And even while the door was swinging
+inward, letting the brilliant sunshine enter, she summoned up the
+courage and let herself down into the well, which proved to be nothing
+more nor less than an underground river!
+
+The men came in with a rush.  They upset boxes, looked into the chest,
+and the man who was evidently in command, gazed down the well, shaking
+his head.  Their search was thorough, but they found no one.  And at
+length they began to reason that perhaps a woman had got as far as the
+door and then turned away, walking on the turf.
+
+Meantime Florence was borne along by the swift current of the river,
+which gained in swiftness every moment.  From time to time she bumped
+along the rocky walls, but she clung to life valiantly.  In ten minutes
+she was swept to the other side of the hill, into the rapids; but the
+blue sky was overhead, she was out in the familiar world again.  On, on
+she was carried.  Even though she was half dead, she could hear the
+roar of a falls somewhere in advance.
+
+
+Braine thought he really had a clue to the treasure, and with his usual
+promptness he set about to learn if it was worth anything.  He procured
+a launch and began to prowl about, using a pole as a feeler.  All the
+while he was being closely watched by Norton, who had concluded to hang
+on to Braine's trail till he found something worthy of note.  Braine
+was disguised, but this time Jim was not to be fooled.  But what was he
+looking for, wondered the reporter?  Braine continued to pole along,
+sometimes pausing to look over the gunwale down into the water.  In
+raising his head after the last investigation, he discerned something
+struggling in the water, about three hundred yards away.  The current
+leisurely brought the object into full view.  It was a young woman with
+just power enough to keep herself afloat.  The golden head roused
+something in him stronger than curiosity.  It might be!
+
+Braine proceeded to move the launch in the direction of the girl.  It
+was this movement that turned the reporter's gaze.  He, too, now saw
+the woman in the water and wondered how she had come there.  When
+Braine reached the girl and pulled her into the launch Jim saw her face
+plainly.
+
+[Illustration: FLORENCE STEALS THE PAPERS FROM BRAINE'S POCKET]
+
+He flew from his vantage point, found a skiff and started after Braine.
+
+"By the Lord Harry!" murmured the rogue.  "Well, they can talk of manna
+from heaven, but this is what I call luck.  Florence Hargreave, out of
+nowhere, into my arms!  The god of luck has cast another horseshoe and
+it's mine."
+
+He had a flask in his pocket, and he forced some of the biting spirits
+down the girl's throat.  She opened her eyes.
+
+"Well, my beauty?"
+
+Florence eyed him wildly, not quite understanding where he had come
+from.
+
+"I don't know how you got here," he said, "and I don't care.  But here
+we are together at last.  Where is your father?"
+
+"I--I don't know," dazedly.
+
+"Better think quickly," he warned; "I want lucid answers to my
+questions or back you go into the water.  I'm about at the end of my
+rope.  I've been beaten too many times, my girl, to have any particular
+love for you.  Now, where is your father?"
+
+"I don't know; I have never seen him."
+
+Braine laughed.
+
+And Jim's boat ran afoul some rocks and into the water he went.  He had
+not attracted Braine's attention, fortunately.  He began to swim toward
+the drifting launch.
+
+"Where have they hidden that money?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Well, well; I've given you your chance.  You'll have to try your luck
+with the water again."
+
+Florence, weak as she was, set her lips.
+
+"You don't ask for mercy?" he said banteringly.
+
+"I should be wasting my breath to ask for mercy from such a monster as
+you are," she answered quickly.
+
+"That damned Hargreave nerve!" he snarled.
+
+He rolled up his sleeves and stepped toward her.  She braced herself
+but did not turn her eyes from his.  Suddenly, from nowhere at all,
+came a pair of hands.  One clutched the gunwale and the other laid hold
+of Braine.  A quick pull followed, and Braine began to topple.  But
+even as he fell he managed to fling himself atop his assailant; and it
+was only when the struggle began in the water that he recognized the
+reporter.  All the devil in him came to the surface and he fought with
+the fierceness of a tiger to kill, kill, kill.  In nearly every
+instance this meddling reporter had checkmated him.  This time one or
+the other of them should stay in the water.
+
+Norton recognized that he had a large order before him to disable
+Braine.  The recognition between them was now frank and absolute; there
+could never again be any diplomatic sidestepping.
+
+"You're a dead man, Norton!" panted Braine, as he reached for the
+reporter's throat.
+
+Norton said nothing, but struck the hand aside.  For a moment they both
+went under.  They came up sputtering, each trying for a hold.  It was a
+terribly enervating struggle.
+
+Florence could do nothing.  The boat in which she sat continued to
+drift away from the fighting men.  Once she tried to reach Braine with
+the pole he had been using, but failed.
+
+[Illustration: BRAINE PROCURED A LAUNCH AND BEGAN TO PROWL ABOUT]
+
+From the shore came another boat.  For a while she could not tell
+whether it contained friends or enemies.  It was terrible to be forced
+to wait, absolutely helpless.  When she heard the newcomers call
+encouragingly to Braine she knew then that the brave fight of her
+sweetheart was going to come to naught.  She knew a little about
+motors.  She threw on the power and headed straight toward the rowboat.
+The men shouted at her, but she did not alter her course.  The rowboat
+had its sides crushed in and the men went piling into the water.
+
+"Jim," she cried.
+
+Norton suddenly flung off Braine and began to swim madly for the motor
+boat, which Florence had brought about.  Even then it was only by the
+barest luck in the world that Norton managed to catch the gunwale.  The
+rest of it was simple.  When they finally reached a haven, Florence,
+oddly enough, thought of the horse she had left tethered nine miles
+from the stables.  She laughed hysterically.
+
+"I guess he won't die.  We can send some one out for him.  Now, for
+heaven's sake, how did you get into this?  Where were you?  What have
+you been up to?" with tender bruskness.
+
+"I wanted to do a little detective work of my own," she faltered.
+
+"It looks as if you had done it.  You infant!  Will you never learn to
+keep outside this muddle?  It's a man's work."
+
+Florence, thoroughly weakened by her long immersion in the water, began
+to weep silently.
+
+"You poor child.  I'm a brute!"  And he comforted her.
+
+Later that day, at home, she remembered the blank paper.
+
+"I stole this from one of the men in the cave.  He said this blank
+paper would probably save father."'
+
+Jim took it.  "H'm!  Invisible ink, and it's had a fine washing."
+
+"But maybe it is waterproof."
+
+"Maybe it is.  Anyhow, Miss Sherlock, we'll show it to Jones and see
+what he says."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+"What I want now," said Braine, as he paced the living-room of the
+apartment of the countess, "is revenge.  I've been checkmated enough,
+Olga; they're playing with us."
+
+"That is nothing new," she replied, shrugging.  "At the beginning I
+warned you.  I never liked this affair after the first two or three
+failures.  But you would have your way.  You wanted revenge at that
+early date; but I can not see that you've gone forward.  Has it ever
+occurred to you that the organization may be getting tired, too?  They
+depend solely upon your invention, and each time your invention has
+resulted in touching nothing but zero."
+
+"Thanks!"
+
+"Oh, I'm not chiding you.  I've failed, too."
+
+"Are you turning against me?" he demanded bitterly.
+
+"Do my actions point that way?" she countered.  "No.  But the more I
+view what has passed, the more disheartened I grow.  It has been a
+series of blind alleys, and all we have succeeded in doing is knocking
+our heads.  I can see now that all our failures are due to one mistake."
+
+"And what the devil is that?" he asked irritably.
+
+"We were in too much of a hurry at the beginning.  Hargreave prepared
+himself for quick action on your part."
+
+[Illustration: BRAINE REACHED THE GIRL AND PULLED HER INTO THE BOAT]
+
+"And if I had not acted quickly he would have started successfully on
+one of his world tours again, and that would have been the last of him,
+and we should never have learned of the girl's existence.  So there's
+your argument."
+
+"Perhaps you are right.  But for all that we have not played the game
+with any degree of finesse."
+
+"Bah!"  Braine lit a cigarette and smoked nervously.  "I can't even get
+rid of that meddling reporter.  He has been as much to blame for our
+failures as either Jones or Hargreave.  I admit that in his case I
+judged hastily.  I believed him to be just an ordinary newspaper man,
+and he was clever enough to lull my suspicions.  But I'm going to get
+him, Olga, even if I have to resort to ordinary gunman tricks.  If
+there's any final reckoning, by the Lord Harry, he shan't get a chance
+in the witness stand."
+
+"And I begin to think that that little chit of a girl has been
+hoodwinking me all along.  By the way, did you find out what that
+letter said?" she asked after a pause.
+
+"Letter?  What letter?"
+
+She sprang from her chair.  "Do you mean to say that they have not told
+you about that?" Olga became greatly excited.
+
+"Explain," he said.
+
+"Why, I was at the garden day before yesterday, and a man approached
+and asked if I was Miss Hargreave.  Becoming at once suspicious that
+something very important was about to happen I signified that I was
+Miss Hargreave.  The man slipped a paper into my hand and hurried off.
+I took a quick glance at it and was dumfounded to find it utterly blank
+of writing.  At first I thought some joke had been played on me, then I
+chanced to remember the invisible ink letters you always wrote me.
+Understanding that you were to visit the cave in the morning, I had one
+man at the garden take the note.  And you never got it!"
+
+"Some one shall certainly pay for this carelessness.  I'll call up
+Vroon and Jackson at once.  Wait just a moment."
+
+He went to the telephone.  A low muttering conversation took place.
+Olga could hear little or none of it.  When Braine put the receiver
+back on the hook his face was not pleasant to see.
+
+"That girl!"
+
+"What now?"
+
+"It seems she had been out horseback riding that morning.  She had seen
+one of the boys cross the field and suddenly disappear; and she was
+curious to learn what had become of him.  With her usual luck she
+stumbled on the method of opening the door of the cave and went in.
+She must have been nosing about.  She didn't have much time, though, as
+the boys came up to await me.  Evidently she crawled into that old
+chest and in some inexplicable manner purloined the letter from
+Jackson's pocket.  They left to reconnoiter; and it was then that
+Jackson discovered his loss.  When Florence heard them returning she
+jumped into the well.  And lived through that tunnel!  The devil is in
+it!"
+
+"Or out of it, since we consider him our friend."
+
+"And I had her in my hands, note and all!"
+
+"But with all that water there will not be any writing left on the
+letter."
+
+"Invisible ink is generally indelible and impervious to the action of
+water; at least the kind I use is.  I'd give a thousand for a sight of
+that letter."
+
+[Illustration: FROM THE SHORE CAME ANOTHER DOAT]
+
+"And it might be worth a million," Olga suggested.
+
+"Not the least doubt of it in my mind.  Olga, old girl, it does look as
+if my star was growing dim.  We'll never get our hands on that million.
+I feel it in my bones.  So let's settle down to a campaign of revenge,
+without any furbelows.  I want to twist Hargreave's heart before the
+game winds up."
+
+"You wish really to injure her?"
+
+"I do not wish to injure her.  Far from it," he replied, smiling evilly.
+
+"You want her ... dead?" whispered Olga, paling.
+
+"Exactly.  I want her dead.  And so if all my efforts here come to
+nothing, so shall Hargreave's.  His millions will become waste paper to
+him.  That's revenge.  The Persian peach method."
+
+"Poison?  You shall not!  You shall not kill her!" vehemently.
+
+"Tender-hearted?"
+
+"No.  If I must in the end go to prison, so be it; but I refuse to die
+in the chair."
+
+"Very well, then.  We shan't kill her, but we'll make her wish she was
+dead.  I was only trying to see how far you would go.  The basket of
+peaches is in the hallway.  Every peach is poisoned.  No man in the
+country knows more about subtle poisons than I do.  Have I not written
+books on that subject?" ironically.
+
+"And they will trace it back to you in a straight line," she warned.
+"I will not have it!"
+
+"I can go elsewhere," he replied coldly.
+
+"You would leave me?"
+
+"The moment you cross my will," emphatically.
+
+It became her turn to pace.  Torn between her love of the man and the
+danger which stared her in the face, she was for the time being
+distracted.  All the time he watched her with malevolent curiosity,
+knowing that in the end she would concur with his evil plans.
+
+"Very well," she said finally.  "But listen; we shall be found out.
+Never doubt that.  Your revenge will cost us both our lives.  I feel
+it."
+
+"Bah!  The law will have no hand in my end.  I always carry a pellet;
+and that ring of yours would suffice a regiment.  She will not die.
+She will merely become a kind of paralytic; the kind that can move a
+little but not enough; always wheeled about in a chair.  I'll bring in
+the peaches; rosy and downy.  One bite, after a given time, will do the
+trick.  If they suspect and throw them out we have lost nothing but the
+peaches.  A trusted messenger will carry them to the Hargreave house.
+And then we'll sit down and wait."
+
+Meantime, in the library of the Hargreave house, Florence and Jim were
+puzzling over the blank sheet of paper.
+
+"I'll wager," said Jim, "the water washed all the writing away.  The
+fire does not seem to do any good.  We'll turn it over to Jones.
+Jones'll find a way to solve it.  Trust him."
+
+"What are you two chattering about?" asked Susan, who was arranging
+some flowers on the table.
+
+"Secrets," said Jim, smiling.
+
+"Humph!"
+
+Susan puttered about for a few minutes longer, then crossed to the
+reception room, intending to go up-stairs.  At that moment the maid was
+admitting a messenger with a basket of fruit.
+
+"For Miss Hargreave," said he.  He gave the basket to the maid, touched
+his cap awkwardly, and swung on his heel, closing the door behind him.
+He was in a hurry to deliver another message.
+
+"Oh, what lovely fruit!" cried Susan, pausing.  "I'm going to steal
+one," she laughed.  She selected a peach and began eating it on the way
+up to her room.
+
+The maid passed on into the library.
+
+"What's this?" inquired Florence, as the maid held out the basket.  She
+selected a peach and was about to set her white teeth into it when Jim
+interposed.
+
+"Wait a moment, dear."  Florence lowered the peach.  Jim turned to the
+maid.  "Who sent it?"
+
+"I don't know, sir.  A messenger brought it, saying it was for Miss
+Hargreave."
+
+"Let me see if there is a card."  But Jim searched in vain for the card
+of the donor.  All at once his suspicions arose.  "Don't touch them.
+Better let the maid throw them out.  Fruit from unknown persons might
+not be the healthiest thing in the world."
+
+"What do you think?"
+
+"That in all probability they are poisoned.  But there's no need trying
+to prove my theory right or wrong.  Ask Jones.  He'll tell you to throw
+them away."
+
+"Horrible!" Florence shuddered.  "But they do not want to poison me.
+I'm too valuable.  They want me alive."
+
+"Who can say?" returned Jim gloomily.  "They may have learned that they
+can not beat us, no matter what card they turn up.  I may be wrong, but
+take my advice and throw them away....  Good lord, what's that?"
+startled.
+
+"Some one cried!"
+
+"Oh, Miss Florence!" exclaimed the maid, terror-stricken as she
+recalled Susan's act.  "Miss Susan took a peach from the basket and was
+eating it on the way to her room!"
+
+"Good heavens!" gasped Jim.  "I was right.  The fruit was poisoned."
+
+Jim had heard enough to send for a specialist he knew.  The specialist
+arrived about twenty minutes after Susan's first cry.  To his keen eye
+it looked like a certain poison which had for its basis the venom of
+the cobra.
+
+"Will she live?"
+
+"Oh, yes.  But she'll be a wreck for some months.  Send her to the
+hospital where I can visit her frequently.  And I'll take that peach
+along for analysis.  No police affair?"
+
+"No.  We dare not call them in," said Jim.
+
+"That's your affair.  I'll send down the ambulance.  Keep her quiet.
+She'll have a species of paralysis; but that'll work off under
+treatment.  A strange business."
+
+"So it is," agreed Jim grimly.
+
+Florence knelt beside her friend's bed and cried softly.
+
+"You called me just in time.  An hour later, nothing would have saved
+her.  She would have been paralyzed for life."
+
+Jim accompanied the doctor to the door and went in search of Jones.  He
+found the taciturn butler eying the fruit basket, his face gray and
+drawn, though his eyes blazed with fury.
+
+"Poison!"
+
+"A pretty bad poison, too," said Jim.  "We can't do anything.  We've
+just got to sit still.  But in the end we'll get them.  That she
+devil...."
+
+"No, my friend; that he devil.  The woman is mad over him and would
+commit any crime at his bidding.  But this is his work.  We want him.
+He wasn't without courage to send this fruit, knowing that I would
+instantly suspect the sender.  Yet, I have no definite proof.  I could
+not hold him in court in law.  He will have bought the fruit piece by
+piece, the basket in a basket shop.  He will have injected the poison
+himself when alone.  Poor Susan!  That messenger was without doubt some
+one over whom he holds the threat of the death chair.  That's the way
+he works."
+
+Jim tramped the room while Jones carried the fruit to the kitchen.  The
+butler returned after a while.
+
+"What about that blank sheet of paper?"
+
+"It has to be dipped into a solution; after that you can read it by
+heating.  I have already dipped it into the solution.  The moment the
+heat leaves the sheet the writing disappears again.  The ink is
+waterproof.  I'll show you."
+
+Jones got a candle from the mantel, lit it, and held the sheet of paper
+very close to the flame.  Gradually, almost imperceptibly, letters
+began to form on the blank sheet.  At length the message was complete.
+
+
+"Dear Hargreave--The Russian minister of police is at the Blank Hotel
+under the name of Henri Servan.  He is investigating the work of the
+Black Hundred in this country and can free you from their vengeance if
+you supply the evidence needed."
+
+
+"Now, what evidence can he want?" asked Jim.
+
+"Such as will prove Braine an undesirable citizen."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Quietly pack him off to Russia, where he is badly wanted."
+
+"Who sent this message?"
+
+"One of our mysterious friends.  We have a few, as you already know.
+But I'll go and make this man Servan a visit.  I have seen the real
+minister, and if this man is the same one, something of importance may
+turn up.  I shall want you somewhere about.  Here, I'll let you have
+this letter.  Remember, heat brings it out and cold air makes it
+vanish.  Now I'll go up for a moment to see how that poor girl is
+getting along.  We are lucky; there's no gainsaying that."
+
+"You're a clever man, Jones," said Jim.
+
+Jones turned upon him, his face grave.  The two men looked steadily
+into each other's eyes.  Jones was first to turn aside his glance, as
+he had something to conceal and Jim had nothing.
+
+When the ambulance took the tortured Susan away, Jones addressed
+Florence gravely.
+
+"I am going out, and so is Mr. Norton.  Do not leave the house; not
+even if you have a telephone call from me or Norton.  Both of us will
+return; so don't let anything bother or confuse you."
+
+"I promise," said Florence, struggling with a sob.
+
+Jones went down-stairs again, paused by a window as if cogitating, and
+suddenly threw it up and looked abroad.  A rustle among the lilacs
+caused a smile to flit across his face.  So they had sent some one to
+learn the effect of the poison?  Or to follow him should he leave the
+house?  He retired to the kitchen and gave some explicit orders to the
+chef, orders which did not in any way refer to cooking.  Then Jones and
+the reporter left the house, each quite aware that they were being
+followed.  Near the Blank Hotel they separated in order to confuse the
+stalker.  He might dodder and follow the wrong man.  But it was evident
+that this time he had been directed to follow Jones; for he entered the
+hotel a minute after Jones.
+
+Meantime a second spy, whom Jones had not seen, had observed the
+transfer of the invisible writing and had immediately informed Braine,
+who was not far away.  That his poisoned fruit had stricken down an
+outsider troubled him none at all.  But that mysterious message he
+meant to have; it might be a life and death affair, it might be a clue
+to the treasure, or the whereabouts of Hargreave.
+
+Thus, while only one man followed Jones, several kept a far eye on Jim.
+
+Jones scribbled his name on a blank card and had it taken to the
+Russian's room.  The page eyed that card curiously.  It was different
+from anything he had ever seen before.  In one corner were written
+three or four words which resembled a cross between Hebrew and Greek.
+
+"Humph!" muttered the boy.  "Whadda y' know about that?  Chicken
+scratches; but I guess the bell rings Roosian.  On your way, Hortense,"
+he cried to the hall maid, who wanted a look at the card.  "Up t' th'
+room, sir.  He'll see yuh!"  The boy kept the silver salver extended
+expectantly, but Jones went past without apparently noticing the hint.
+
+The Russian was standing by a window when Jones knocked and was bidden
+to enter.
+
+"You are not Hargreave."
+
+"Neither are you the Russian minister of police," urbanely.
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"I am Hargreave's confidential man, sir."
+
+The two men eyed each other cautiously.
+
+"You speak Russian?"
+
+"No.  I am able to scribble a few words; that is all."
+
+The Russian lit a cigarette and smoked leisurely.  He was in no hurry.
+
+"No, I am not the minister; but I am his accredited agent.  I am
+empowered to bring back to Russia a man who is known here by the name
+of Braine, another by the name of Vroon, and a woman who calls herself
+a countess and unfortunately is one.  All I desire is some damaging
+proof against them that they are outlaws in this country.  The rest
+will be simple."
+
+"They have all three taken out naturalization papers."
+
+[Illustration: THEY HAVE ALL THREE TAKEN OUT NATURALIZATION PAPERS]
+
+The Russian waved his hand airily.  "Once they are in Russia those
+documents will never come to light.  This man Braine, it has been
+learned, has long been in the pay of Prussia, and has given the general
+staff of that country many plans of our frontier fortifications.  I do
+not know what any one of the three looks like.  That is why I sought
+Hargreave."
+
+"I will gladly point them out to you," said Jones, rubbing his hands
+together, a sign that he was greatly pleased.
+
+"That will be very good of you, I'm sure," in a rumbling but perfectly
+intelligible English.
+
+"And suddenly they all three will disappear."
+
+"Suddenly; and you may believe me that from that time on they'll be
+heard of never more."
+
+"All this sounds extremely agreeable to me.  Mr. Hargreave will be
+happy to hear that his long enforced hiding will soon come to an end."
+
+"All you have to do, sir, is to point them out to me."
+
+"It may take a week or ten days."
+
+"My government has waited for ten years to gather in this delectable
+trio.  A month, if you like."
+
+"The sooner the better.  I shall call this evening after dinner.  We
+shall begin with Mr. Braine; and generally where he is is the woman.
+Vroon will be the most difficult."
+
+"After dinner, then, since you know some of his haunts.  There is a
+reward."
+
+Jones laughed shortly.  "Keep it yourself, sir.  Mr. Hargreave would
+willingly double whatever this reward is to eliminate these despicable
+creatures from his affairs."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+While this conversation was taking place Norton idled about; and
+feeling the cravings for a cigarette, prepared to roll one, only to
+find that he hadn't the "makings."  So fate urged him to step into the
+nearest tobacconist's.  He asked for his favorite brand and passed over
+the silver.
+
+Braine and his companions saw Norton enter the shop.  It agreed with
+their plans perfectly.  The tobacconist happened to be affiliated with
+the order.  So they hurried into the shop.  Jim instantly realized that
+he was in a trap.
+
+"How can I get out of here?" he whispered to the tobacconist.
+
+The latter smiled.  "I have to obey these gentlemen.  I don't know what
+they want you for; but if I made a move to help you I should find my
+own throat cut without saving yours."
+
+"The devil!"
+
+Jim made a dash for the rear door, to find it locked.  Even as he
+fumbled with the key Braine and his companions flung themselves upon
+the reporter and overpowered him.
+
+"Ah, my friend Braine!" he said.
+
+"My friend Norton!" jeered the victor.
+
+"And what do you want; some peaches?"
+
+"A paper, my friend, a little secret of paper with invisible writing on
+it.  We promise to give you something in exchange for it."
+
+"What?" asked Jim with as much nonchalance as he could assume.
+
+"Life."
+
+"Search," said Jim.  "You won't object to my smoking?"  He began to
+roll a cigarette while they passed over him.  He struck a match; the
+pleasant aroma of tobacco floated about his head.
+
+"He's got it on him somewhere.  I saw him take it.  He's got his nerve
+with him."
+
+The cigarette glowed.  Jim smoked hurriedly.
+
+Through every pocket they went.  The contents of his wallet lay
+scattered at his feet; his watch dangled from the chain.  The cigarette
+grew shorter and shorter.  Suddenly one of the men stretched out a hand
+and whisked the cigarette from Jim's lips.  He threw it to the floor
+and stamped out the coal.
+
+"I thought so!" he exclaimed, holding out the scrap of burnt paper
+toward Braine.
+
+The words "Dear Hargreave" were all that remained of the message.  With
+a snarl of rage Braine whipped out his revolver.
+
+"I will give you one minute to tell me what that paper contained."
+
+"And after that minute is up?"
+
+"A bullet in your stomach."
+
+Quick as a flash Jim's hand shot out, caught the loosely held revolver,
+gave it a wrench, and brought it down savagely upon Braine's head.
+Then he reversed it and backed toward the front entrance.
+
+"Au revoir, till we meet again, gentlemen!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+Jim said nothing at first about his adventure to Jones, whom he met
+half an hour later.
+
+"Was it necessary to keep that invisible letter?" he asked.
+
+"No," said Jones.
+
+"Would it have given our affairs a serious turn if it had fallen into
+alien hands?"
+
+"Decidedly," answered Jones.  "It would mean flight for the Black
+Hundred or a long time under cover, if our friend Braine learned that
+Russia was now taking an active interest in the doings of the Black
+Hundred.  And eventually all our work would have to be done over again."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"You look a bit mussed up.  Anything happened?" asked the keen-eyed
+butler.
+
+"Nothing much.  I made a cigarette out of the letter and smoked it."
+
+Jones chuckled.  "I see that you have had an adventure of some sort;
+but it can wait."
+
+"It can."
+
+"Because I want you to pack off to Washington."
+
+"Washington?"
+
+"Yes.  I want you to interview those officials who are most familiar
+with the extradition laws."
+
+"A new kink?"
+
+"What I wish to learn is this: Can a man, formerly undesirable, take
+out naturalization papers and hold to the protection of the United
+States government?  That is to say, a poisoner, menaced by Siberia,
+becomes an American citizen.  He is abducted and carried back to
+Russia.  Could he look to this government for protection?  That is what
+I want you to find out?"
+
+"That will be easy.  When shall I start?"
+
+"As soon as you can pack your grip."
+
+"That's always packed," replied the reporter.  "You see, I'm eternally
+shunted hither and yon, at a moment's notice, so I always have an extra
+grip packed for quick travel."
+
+"The Russian agent wants Braine, Vroon, and the countess; and to-night
+I'm going to try to point them out to him.  It would satisfy me more
+than anything I know to eliminate this precious trio in Russian
+fashion.  It's thorough; and once accomplished, good day to the Black
+Hundred in America.  The organization in Russia has still some
+political significance, but on this side of the water it is merely an
+aggregation of merciless thugs."
+
+"I'll take the first train out.  But you will tell Florence?"
+
+"Surely."
+
+"And take care of your own heels.  You were watched at the hotel."
+
+"I know it; but the watcher could learn nothing.  Henri Servan as a
+name will suggest nothing to the fool who followed me.  Besides we both
+knew that he was trying to peek through the keyhole.  That hotel, you
+know, still retains the old-fashioned keyholes."
+
+"To keep the maids in good humor, I suppose," laughed Jim.  "Well, I
+must be on my way to make that flyer."
+
+The two shook hands and Jim hurried off.  The butler watched him till
+he disappeared down the subway.
+
+"He's a good lad," he murmured, "and a brave lad; and money is only an
+incident in human affairs after all.  I'll be a good angel and let the
+two be happy, since they love each other and have proved it in a
+thousand ways."
+
+Meanwhile the Russian agent settled down before his writing portfolio;
+and once or twice as he wrote he thought he heard a sound outside the
+door.  No doubt this butler of Hargreave's had been watched and
+followed.  By and by he rose, drew his revolver, and tiptoed to the
+door obliquely so that the watcher outside might not become aware of
+his approach.  Swiftly he swung back the door and the member of the
+Black Hundred stumbled into the room.  Almost instantly the Russian
+caught him by the collar and held him up.
+
+"What were you doing outside my door?"
+
+The man, trying to collect his thoughts, did not answer.
+
+"A spy of some sort, eh?"
+
+"I'm a detective," said the man finally, thinking he saw his way clear.
+
+"And what did you expect to learn by looking through the keyhole of my
+door?"
+
+Servan laughed.  "Show me your badge of authority."
+
+The man fumbled in his upper pocket, hoping against hope that the
+muzzle of the revolver would waver.
+
+"You're an ordinary thief," declared the Russian; "and as such I shall
+instantly hand you over to the hotel authorities unless you tell me
+exactly who and what you are."
+
+The man remained dumb.  He hung between the devil and the deep sea.  If
+he told the truth the organization would soon learn the truth; if he
+kept still he would be lodged in jail, perhaps indefinitely, for he
+hadn't a savory police record.  Presently his nerve gave way in face of
+the steady eye and hand, and he confessed the why and wherefore he had
+sought the keyhole of Servan's room.
+
+"We are after this butler.  Wherever he goes we follow."
+
+"Well, you've wasted your time, my man.  All I am here for is to take
+over some property Mr. Hargreave left in France for sale.  I know
+nothing about your private feuds.  Now, get out.  But keep out of my
+way; I am not a peaceful man."
+
+The spy tumbled out as he had tumbled in, by an act of gravity; and
+Servan was alone.  He spent two days in comparative idleness.  Then
+things began to wake up.
+
+
+For a long time the leather box across which was inscribed "Stanley
+Hargreave" lay in peace undisturbed.  A busy spider had woven a trap
+across the handle to the quaint lock.  The box was still badly stained
+from its immersion in the salt water.  At a certain time it was quietly
+withdrawn from its hiding place.  It was stealthily opened.  A hand
+reached in and when it withdrew a packet of papers was also withdrawn.
+The box was again locked and lowered; and presently the spider returned
+to find that his cunning trap had been totally destroyed.  With the
+infinite patience of his kind he began the weaving of another trap.
+Perhaps this would be more successful than its predecessor.
+
+Later Henri Servan received a telephone call.  He was informed that his
+purpose in America would be realized by his presence at such and such a
+box that night at the opera.  Further information could not be given
+over the telephone.  Servan seemed well satisfied.  He dressed
+carefully that evening, called up the office clerk and inquired if his
+box tickets for the opera had arrived.  He was informed that they had.
+Instantly the spy, who had dared to linger about the hotel, overhearing
+this conversation, determined to notify Braine at once.  And at the
+same time, Norton, in disguise, determined not to lose sight of this
+man whom he had set himself to watch.
+
+The spy left by one entrance and Jim by another.  Jim had learned what
+he desired; that the Russian agent would be followed to the opera and
+that it was going to be difficult to hand the documents to him.  The
+spy entered a drug store and telephoned.  Jim waited outside.  When the
+man came out he strolled up the street and entered the nearest saloon.
+Jim's work was done.
+
+It was Braine's lieutenant, however, who took the news to Braine.
+
+"We have succeeded."
+
+"Good!" said Braine.
+
+"He will go to the opera.  He will have a box.  Doubtless they have
+arranged to deliver the papers there."
+
+"And the next thing is to get the number of his box."  This Braine had
+no difficulty in doing.  "So that's all fixed.  He calls himself Servan
+and registers from Paris.  I'll show the fool that he has no moujik to
+deal with this time."
+
+"And what are these documents?" asked Olga.
+
+"Ah, that's what we are so anxious to find out.  Some papers are going
+to be exchanged between this Russian spy and Jones or his agents.  That
+these papers concern us vitally I am certain.  That is why I am going
+to get them if there has to be a murder at the opera to-night.  Norton
+has been to Washington.  He was seen coming out of the Russian embassy,
+from the secretaries of state and war and a dozen other offices.  I've
+got to find out just what all this means."
+
+"It means that the time has come for us to fly," said Olga.  "We have
+failed.  I have warned you.  We have still plenty of money left.  It is
+time we folded our tents and stole away quietly.  I tell you I feel it
+in my bones that there is a pit before us somewhere! and if you force
+issues we shall all fall into it."
+
+"The white feather, my dear."
+
+"There is altogether some difference between the white feather and
+common-sense caution."
+
+"I shall never give up.  You are free to pack up and go if you wish.
+As for me, I'm going to fight this out to the bitter end."
+
+"And take my word for it, the end will be bitter."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Oh, I shall stay.  You know that my future is bound up in yours.  In
+the old days my advice generally appealed to you as sound; and when you
+followed it you were successful.  From the first I advised you not to
+pursue Hargreave.  See what has happened!"
+
+"Enough of this chatter.  I've got to die some time; it will be with my
+face toward this man I hate with all my soul.  You trust to me; I'll
+pull out of this all right.  You just fix yourself up stunningly for
+the opera to-night and leave the rest to me."
+
+Olga shrugged.  She was something of a fatalist.  This man of hers had
+suddenly gone mad; and one did not reason with mad people.
+
+"What shall I wear?" she asked calmly.
+
+[Illustration: "JUST A MOMENT, GENTLEMEN"]
+
+"Emeralds; they're your good luck stones.  You will go to the box
+before I do.  I've got to spend some time at the curb to be sure that
+this Servan chap arrives.  And it is quite possible that our friend
+Jones will come later.  If not Jones, then Norton.  I was a fool not to
+shoot him when I had the chance.  We could have covered it up without
+the least difficulty.  But I needed the information about that paper.
+With Norton going to Washington and Jones conferring with this Servan,
+I've got to strike quick.  It concerns us, that I'm certain.  Perk up;
+we've lots of cards in our sleeves yet.  Be at the opera at
+eight-thirty.  Pay no attention to any one; wait for me.  Remember, I
+shan't write or send any phone messages.  Be wary of any trap like that
+to get you outside.  Now, I'm off."
+
+Jones approached Florence immediately after dinner.
+
+"I have important business in the city to-night.  Under no
+circumstances leave the house.  I shall probably be followed.  And our
+enemies will have need of you far more to-night than at any previous
+time.  I shall not send you phone or written message.  You have your
+revolver.  Shoot any strange man who enters.  We'll make inquiries
+after."
+
+"We are near the end?" whispered Florence.
+
+"Very near the end."
+
+"And I shall see my father?"
+
+Jones bent his head.  "If we succeed."
+
+"There is danger?" thinking of her lover.
+
+"There is always danger when I leave this house.  So be good," the
+butler added with a smile.
+
+"And Jim?"
+
+"He has proved that he can take care of himself."
+
+"Tell him to be very careful."
+
+"I'll do so, but it will not be necessary;" and with this Jones set
+forth upon what he considered the culminating adventure.
+
+The usual brilliant crowd began to pour into the opera.  Braine took
+his stand by the entrance.  He waited a long time, but his patience was
+rewarded.  A limousine drove up and out of the door came his man, who
+looked about with casual interest.  He dismissed the limousine, which
+wheeled slowly around the corner where it could be conveniently parked.
+Then Servan entered the opera.
+
+Braine hurried around to the limousine.  The lights, save those
+demanded by traffic regulations, were out.  The chauffeur was huddled
+in his seat.
+
+"My man," said Braine, "would you like to make some money?"
+
+"How much?" listlessly.  The voice was muffled.
+
+"Twenty."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+"Fifty."
+
+"Good night and good morning!"
+
+"A hundred!"
+
+"Now you've got me interested.  What kind of a joy ride do you want?"
+
+"No joy ride.  Listen."
+
+Briefly the conspirator outlined his needs, and finally the chauffeur
+nodded.  Five twenties were pressed into his hand and he curled up in
+his seat again.
+
+Servan entered his box.  In the box next to his sat a handsomely gowned
+young woman.  He threw her an idle glance, which was repaid in kind.
+Later, Braine came in and sat down beside Olga.
+
+"Everything looks like plain sailing," he whispered.
+
+Olga shrugged slightly.
+
+During the intermission between the first and second acts, Servan took
+the rear chair of his box, near the curtains.  Braine, watching with
+the eyes of a lynx, suddenly observed the curtains stirring.  A hand
+was thrust through.  In that hand was a packet of papers.  With seeming
+indifference Servan reached back and took the papers, stowing them away
+in a pocket.
+
+Braine rose at the beginning of the second act.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked Olga nervously.
+
+"To see Otto."
+
+A bold attempt was made to rob Servan while in the box, but the timely
+arrival of Jim frustrated this plan.  So Braine was forced to rely on
+the chauffeur of the limousine.
+
+As Farrar's last thrilling note died away Braine and Olga rose.
+
+"Be careful.  And come to the apartments just as soon as you can."
+
+"I'll be careful," Braine declared easily.  "You can watch the play if
+you wish."
+
+When Servan entered the limousine he was quietly but forcibly seized by
+two men who had been lying in wait for him, due to the apparent
+treachery of the chauffeur.  Servan fought valiantly, for all that he
+knew what the end of this exploit was going to be.  One of the men
+succeeded in getting the documents from Servan's pocket.
+
+"Done, my boy!" cried the victor.  "Give him a crack on the coco and
+we'll beat it."
+
+"Just a minute, gentlemen!" said a voice from the seat at the side of
+the chauffeur.  "I'll take those papers!"  And the owner of the voice,
+backed by a cold, sinister-looking automatic, reached in and
+confiscated the spoils of war.  "And I shouldn't make any attempt to
+slip out by the side door."
+
+"Thanks, my friend," said Servan, shaking himself free from his captors.
+
+"Don't mention it," said Norton amiably.  "We thought something like
+this would happen.  Keep perfectly quiet, you chaps.  Drive on,
+chauffeur; drive on!"
+
+"Yes, my lord!  To what particular police station shall I head this
+omnibus?"
+
+"The nearest, Jones; the very nearest you can think of!  Some day, when
+I'm rich, I'll hire you for my chauffeur.  But for the present I shall
+expect at least a box of Partagas out of that hundred."
+
+Jones chuckled.  "I'll buy you a box out of my own pocket.  That
+hundred goes to charity."
+
+"Here we are!  Out with you," said Jim to his prisoners.  He shouldered
+them into the police station, to the captain's desk.
+
+"What's this?" demanded the captain.
+
+"Holdup men," said Jim.  "Entered this man's car and tried to rob him."
+
+"Uh-huh!  An' who're you?"
+
+Jim showed his badge and card.
+
+"Oho!  Hey, there; I mean you!" said the captain, leveling a finger at
+Otto.  "Lift up that hat; lift it up.  Sure, it's Fountain Pen Otto!
+Well, well; an' we've been lookin' for you for ten months on the last
+forgery case.  Mr. Norton, my thanks.  Take 'em below, sergeant.
+You'll be here to make the complaint in th' mornin', sir," he added to
+Servan.
+
+"If it is necessary."
+
+"It may be against Otto's pal.  I don't know him."
+
+"Very well."
+
+[Illustration: THE POLICE CAPTAIN'S DESK]
+
+And Jones and Norton and Servan trooped out of the station.
+
+At last Jones and the reporter entered a cheap restaurant and ordered
+coffee and toast.
+
+"You're a wonderful man, Jones, even if you are an Englishman," said
+Jim as he called for the check.
+
+"English?  What makes you think I am English?" asked Jones with a
+curious glitter in his eyes.
+
+"I'll tell you on the night we put the rollers under Braine and
+company."
+
+Jones stared long and intently at his young partner.  What did he
+really know?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+The federal government agreed to say nothing, to put no obstacles in
+the way of the Russian agent, provided he could abduct his trio without
+seriously clashing with the New York police authorities.  It was a
+recognized fact that the local police force wanted the newspaper glory
+which would attend the crushing of the Black Hundred.  It would be an
+exploit.  But their glory was nil; nor did Servan take his trio back
+with him to Russia.
+
+Many strange things happened that night, the night of the final
+adventure.
+
+Florence sat in her room reading.  The book was Oliver Twist, not the
+pleasantest sort of book to read under the existing circumstances.
+Several times--she had reached the place where Fagin overheard Nancy's
+confession--she fancied she heard doors closing softly, but credited it
+to her imagination.  Poor Nancy, who wanted to be good but did not find
+time to be!  Florence possessed a habit familiar to most of us; the
+need of apples or candy when we are reading.  So she rang the bell for
+her maid, intending to ask her to bring up some apples.  She turned to
+her reading, presently to break off and strike the bell again.  Where
+was that maid?  She waited perhaps five minutes, then laid down the
+book and began to investigate.
+
+There was not a servant to be found in the entire house!  What in the
+world could that mean?  Used as she was to heartrending suspense, she
+was none the less terrified.  Something had taken the servants from the
+house.  From whence was the danger to come this time?  Where was Jones?
+Why did he not return as he had promised?  It was long past the hour
+when he said he would be back.
+
+She went into the library and picked up the telephone.  She was told
+that Mr. Norton was out on an assignment, but that he would be notified
+the moment he returned.  She opened the drawer in the desk.  She
+touched the automatic, but did not take it up.  She left the drawer
+open, however.
+
+Earlier, at the newspaper office that night, Jim went into the managing
+editor's office and laid a bulky manuscript on that gentleman's desk.
+
+"Is this it?"
+
+"It is," said Jim.
+
+"You have captured them?"
+
+"No; but there is a net about them from which not one shall escape.
+There's the story of my adventures, of the adventures of Miss Hargreave
+and the butler, Jones.  You'll find it exciting enough.  You might just
+as well send it up to the composing room.  At midnight I'll telephone
+the introduction.  It's a scoop.  Don't worry about that."
+
+The editor riffled the pages.
+
+"A hundred and twelve pages, three hundred words to the page; man, it's
+a novel!"
+
+"It'll read like one."
+
+"Sit down for a moment and let me skim through the first story."
+
+At the end of ten minutes the editor laid down the copy.  He opened a
+drawer and took out two envelopes.  The blue one he tore up and dropped
+into the waste basket.  Norton understood and smiled.  They had meant
+to discharge him if he fell down.  The other envelope was a fat one.
+
+"Open it," said the editor, smiling a little to himself.
+
+This envelope contained a check for two thousand five hundred dollars,
+two round-trip first-class tickets to Liverpool, together with
+innumerable continental tickets such as are issued to tourists.
+
+"Why two?" asked Jim innocently.
+
+"Forget it, my boy, forget it.  You ought to know that in this office
+we don't employ blind men.  The whole staff is on.  There you are, a
+fat check and three months' vacation.  Go and get married; and if you
+return before the three months are up I'll fire you myself on general
+principles."
+
+Jim laughed happily and the two men shook hands.  Then Jim went forth
+to complete the big assignment.  Five minutes later Florence called him
+up to learn that he had gone.
+
+What should she do?  Jones had told her to stay in the house and not to
+leave it.  But where was he?  Why did he not come?  What was the
+meaning of this desertion by the servants?  She wandered about
+aimlessly, looking out of windows, imagining forms in the shadows.  Her
+imagination had not deceived her; she had heard doors close softly.
+
+"Susan, Susan!" she murmured, but Susan was in the hospital.
+
+_Oliver Twist_!  What had possessed her to start reading that old tale
+again?  She should have read something of a light and joyous character.
+After half an hour's wandering about the lonely house she returned to
+the library, feeling that she would be safer where both telephone and
+revolver were.
+
+And while she sat waiting for she knew not what, her swiftly beating
+heart sending the blood into her throat so that it almost suffocated
+her, a man turned into the street and walked noiselessly toward the
+Hargreave place.  He passed a man leaning against a lamp-post, but he
+never turned to look at him.
+
+This man, however, threw away his cigar and hot-footed it to the
+nearest pay station.  He knew in his soul that he had just seen the man
+for whom they had been hunting all these weary but strenuous
+weeks--Stanley Hargreave in the flesh!  Half an hour after his
+telephone message the chief of the Black Hundred and many lesser lights
+were on their way to the house of mystery.  Had they but known!
+
+Now, the man who had created this tremendous agitation went serenely
+on.  He proceeded directly and fearlessly to the front door, produced a
+latchkey and entered.  He passed through the hall and reception room to
+the library and paused on the threshold dramatically.  Florence stepped
+back with a sharp cry of alarm.  She had heard the hall door open and
+close and had taken it for granted that Jones had entered.
+
+There was a tableau of short duration.
+
+"Don't you know me?" asked the stranger in a singularly pleasant voice.
+
+Florence had been imposed upon too many times.  She shook her head
+defiantly, though her knees shook so that she was certain that the
+least touch would send her over.
+
+"I am your father, child!"
+
+Florence slipped unsteadily behind the desk and seized the revolver
+which lay in the drawer.  The man by the curtains smiled sadly.  It was
+a smile that caused Florence to waver a bit.  Still she extended her
+arm.
+
+"You do not believe me?" said the man, advancing slowly.
+
+"No.  I have been deceived too many times, sir.  Stay where you are.
+You will wait here till my butler returns.  Oh, if I were only sure!"
+she burst out suddenly and passionately.  "What proof have you that you
+are what you say?"
+
+He came toward her, holding out his hands.  "This, that you can not
+shoot me.  Ah, the damnable wretches!  What have they done to you, my
+child, to make you suspicious of every one?  How I have watched over
+you in the street!  I will tell you what only Jones and the reporter
+know, that the aviator died, that I alone was rescued, that I gave
+Norton the five thousand; that I watched the windows of the Russian
+woman, and overheard nearly every plot that was hatched in the council
+chamber of the Black Hundred; that I was shot in the arm while crossing
+the lawn one night.  And now we have the scoundrels just where we want
+them.  They will be in this house for me within half an hour, and not
+one of them will leave it in freedom.  I am your father, Florence.  I
+am the lonely father who has spent the best years of his life away from
+you in order to secure your safety.  Can't you feel the truth of all
+this?"
+
+"No, no!  Please do not approach any nearer; stay where you are!"
+
+[Illustration: THEY WERE TUMBLING THROUGH THE LIBRARY AND READING-ROOM]
+
+At that moment the telephone rang.  With the revolver still leveled she
+picked up the receiver.
+
+"Hello, hello!  Who is it? ... Oh, Jim, Jim, come at once!  I am
+holding at bay a man who says he is my father.  Hold him where he is,
+you say?  All right, I will.  Come quick!"
+
+"Jim!" murmured the man, still advancing.  He must have that revolver.
+The poor child might spoil the whole affair.  "So what Jones tells me
+is true; that you are going to marry this reporter chap?"
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"With or without my consent?"
+
+If only he would drop that fearless smile! she thought.  "With or
+without anybody's consent," she said.
+
+"What in the world can I say to you to convince you?" he cried.  "The
+trap is set; but if Braine and his men come and find us like this, good
+heaven, child, we are both lost!  Come, come!"
+
+"Stay where you are!"
+
+At that moment she heard a sound at the door.  Her gaze roved; and it
+was enough for the man.  He reached out and caught her arm.  She tried
+to tear herself loose.
+
+"My child, in God's name, listen to reason!  They are entering the hall
+and they will have us both."
+
+Suddenly Florence knew.  She could not have told you why; but there was
+an appeal in the man's voice that went to her heart.
+
+"You are my father!"
+
+"Yes, yes!  But you've found it out just a trifle too late, my dear.
+Quick; this side of the desk!"
+
+Braine and his men dashed into the library.  Olga entered leisurely.
+
+"Both of them!" yelled Braine exultantly.  "Both of them together; what
+luck!"
+
+There was a sharp, fierce struggle; and when it came to an end
+Hargreave was trussed to a chair.
+
+"Ah, so we meet again, Hargreave!" said Braine.
+
+Hargreave shrugged.  What he wanted was time.
+
+"A million!  We have you.  Where is it, or I'll twist your heart before
+your eyes."
+
+"Father, forgive me!"
+
+"I understand, my child."
+
+"Where is it?"  Braine seized Florence by the wrist and swung her
+toward him.
+
+"Don't tell him, father; don't mind me," said the girl bravely.
+
+Braine, smiling his old evil smile, drew the girl close.  It was the
+last time he ever touched her.
+
+"Look!" screamed Olga.
+
+Every one turned, to see Jones' face peering between the curtains.
+There was an ironic smile on the butler's lips.  The face vanished.
+
+"After him!" cried Braine, releasing Florence.
+
+"After him!" mimicked a voice from the hall.
+
+The curtains were thrown back suddenly.  Jones appeared, and Jim and
+the Russian agent and a dozen policemen.  Tableau!
+
+Braine sprang at Florence savagely, and Norton tore him back, and they
+went tumbling through the library and the living room.  It was a death
+struggle; make no mistake about that.  The others dared not shoot for
+fear of hitting Norton.  But the Countess Olga, in the hallway, dared
+the risk.  As Norton's back came into view she fired.  Almost at the
+same instant Norton had swung Braine about.  A shudder ran through the
+arch-scoundrel, his hands slipped off Norton's shoulders, a surprised
+expression swept over his face, then he sank inertly to the floor, dead.
+
+[Illustration: BRAINE SANK INERTLY TO THE FLOOR, DEAD]
+
+Olga ran up-stairs wildly, followed by a determined policeman.  She
+dashed into Florence's room and locked the door.  Instantly she crossed
+over to the window, and paused.
+
+Down-stairs the police were marching off the leaders of the Black
+Hundred.
+
+"Well," said Norton, "I guess it's all over.  And, my word for it, Mr.
+Jedson, you've played your end consummately."
+
+"Jedson!" exclaimed Jones, starting back.
+
+"Yes, Jedson, formerly of Scotland Yard," went on the reporter.  "I
+recognized him long ago."
+
+"It is true," said Hargreave, taking Jones' hand in his own.  "Fifteen
+years ago I employed him to watch my affairs, and very well has he done
+so."
+
+Presently, Hargreave, Jones, Florence and Jim were alone.  That smile
+which had revealed to Florence her father's identity stole over his
+face again.  He put his hand on Jim's shoulder and beckoned to Florence.
+
+"Are you really anxious to marry this young man?"
+
+Florence nodded.
+
+"Well, then, do so.  And go to Europe with him on your honeymoon; and
+as a wedding present to you both, for every dollar that he has I will
+add a hundred; and when you get tired of travel you will both come hack
+here to live.  The Black Hundred has ceased to exist."
+
+"And now," said Jones, shaking his shoulders.
+
+"Well?" said Hargreave.
+
+"My business is done.  Still--"  Jones paused.
+
+"Go on," said Hargreave soberly.
+
+"Well, the truth is, sir, I've grown used to you.  And if you'll let me
+play the butler till the end I shall be most happy."
+
+"I was going to suggest it."
+
+Norton took Florence by the hand and drew her away.
+
+"Where are you taking me?" she asked.
+
+"I'm going to take this pretty hand of yours and put it flat upon one
+million dollars.  And if you don't believe it, follow me."
+
+She followed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+It will be remembered that the Countess Olga had darted up the stairs
+during the struggle between Braine and his captors.  The police who had
+followed her were recalled to pursue one of the lesser rogues.  This
+left Olga free for a moment.  She stole out and down as far as the
+landing.
+
+Servan, the Russian agent, stood waiting for the taxi-cab to roll up to
+the porte-cochere for himself, Braine and Vroon.  Norton had taken
+Florence by the hand, ostensibly to conduct her to the million.
+Suddenly Braine made a dash for liberty.  Norton rushed after him.
+Just as he reached Braine, a shot rang out.  Braine whirled upon his
+heels and crashed to the floor.
+
+Olga, intent upon giving injury to Norton, who she regarded equally
+with Hargreave as having brought about the downfall, had hit her lover
+instead.  With a cry of despair she dashed back into Florence's room,
+quite ready to end it all.  She raised the revolver to her temple,
+shuddered, and lowered the weapon: so tenaciously do we cling to life!
+
+Below, they were all quite stunned by the suddenness of the shot.
+Instantly they sought the fallen man's side, and a hasty examination
+gave them the opinion that the man was dead.  Happily a doctor was on
+the way, Servan having given the call, as one of the Black Hundred had
+been wounded badly.
+
+[Illustration: INSTANTLY THEY SOUGHT THE FALLEN MAN'S SIDE]
+
+But what to do with that mad woman up-stairs?  Hargreave advised them
+to wait.  The house was surrounded; she could not possibly escape save
+by one method, and perhaps that would be the best for her.  Hargreave
+looked gravely at Norton as he offered this suggestion.  The reporter
+understood: the millionaire was willing to give the woman a chance.
+
+"And you are my father?" said Florence, still bewildered by the amazing
+events.  "But I don't understand yet!" her gaze roving from the real
+Jones to her father.
+
+"I don't doubt it, child," said Hargreave.  "I'll explain.  When I
+hired Jones here, who is really Jedson of the Scotland Yard, I did so
+because we looked alike when shaven.  It was Jedson here who escaped by
+the balloon; it was Jedson who returned the five thousand to Norton,
+who watched the countess' apartment; it was Jedson who was wounded in
+the arm.  I myself guarded you, my child.  Last night, unbeknown to
+you, I left and the real Jones--for it is easier to call him
+that!--took my place."
+
+"And I never saw the difference!" exclaimed Florence.
+
+"That is natural," smiled her father.  "You were thinking of Norton
+here instead of me.  Eh?"
+
+Florence blushed.
+
+"Well, why not?  Here, Norton!"  The millionaire took Florence's hand
+and placed it in the reporter's.  "It seems that I've got to lose her
+after all.  Kiss her, man; in heaven's name, kiss her!"
+
+And Norton threw his arms around the girl and kissed her soundly,
+careless of the fact that he was observed by both enemies and friends.
+
+[Illustration: A QUICK CLUTCH AND THE POLICEMAN HAD HER BY THE WRIST]
+
+Suddenly the policeman who had been standing by the side of Braine ran
+into the living-room.
+
+"He's alive!  Braine's alive; he just stirred."
+
+"What?" exclaimed Norton and Hargreave in a single breath.
+
+"Yes, sir!  I saw his hands move.  It's a good thing we sent for a
+doctor.  He ought to be along about now."
+
+Even as he spoke the bell rang: and they all surged out into the hall,
+forgetting for the moment all about the million.  Olga hadn't killed
+the man, then?  The doctor knelt beside the stricken man and examined
+him.  He shrugged.
+
+"Will he live?"
+
+"Certainly.  A scalp wound, that laid him out for a few moments.  He'll
+be all right in a few days.  He was lucky.  A quarter of an inch lower,
+and he'd have passed in his checks."
+
+"Good!" murmured Servan.  "So our friend will accompany me back to good
+Russia?  Oh, we'll be kind to him during the journey.  Have him taken
+to the hospital ward at the Tombs.  Now, for the little lady up-stairs."
+
+A moment later Braine opened his eyes, and the policeman assisted him
+to his feet.  Servan, with a nod, ordered the police to help the
+wounded man to the taxicab which had just arrived.  Braine, now wholly
+conscious, flung back one look of supreme hatred toward Hargreave; and
+that was the last either Florence or her father ever saw of Braine of
+the Black Hundred--a fine specimen of a man gone wrong through greed
+and an inordinate lust for revenge.
+
+The policeman returned to Hargreave.
+
+"It's pretty quiet up-stairs," he suggested.  "Don't you think, sir,
+that I'd better try that bedroom door again?"
+
+"Well, if you must," assented Hargreave reluctantly.  "But don't be
+rough with her if you can help it."
+
+For Braine he had no sympathy.  When he recalled all the misery that
+devil's emissary had caused him, the years of hiding and pursuit, the
+loss of the happiness that had rightfully been his, his heart became
+adamant.  For eighteen years to have ridden and driven and sailed up
+and down the world, always confident that sooner or later that demon
+would find him!  He had lost the childhood of his daughter; and now he
+was to lose her in her womanhood.  And because of this implacable
+hatred the child's mother had died in the Petrograd prison-fortress.
+But what an enemy the man had been!  He, Hargreave, had needed all his
+wits constantly; he had never dared to go to sleep except with one eye
+open.  But in employing ordinary crooks, Braine had at length
+overreached himself; and now he must pay the penalty.  The way of the
+transgressor is hard; and though this ancient saying looks dingy with
+the wear and tear of centuries, it still holds good.
+
+But he felt sorry for the woman up above.  She had loved not wisely but
+too well.  Far better for her if she put an end to life.  She would not
+live a year in the God-forsaken snows of Siberia.
+
+"My kind father!" said Florence, as if she could read his thoughts.
+
+"I had a hard time of it, child.  It was difficult to play the butler
+with you about.  The times that I fought down the desire to sweep you
+up in my arms!  But I kept an iron grip on that impulse.  It would have
+imperiled you.  In some manner it would have leaked out; and your life
+and mine wouldn't have been worth a button."
+
+[Illustration: THE MYSTIC MILLION]
+
+Florence threw her arms around him and held him tightly.
+
+"That poor woman up-stairs!" she murmured.  "Can't they let her go?"
+
+"No, dear.  She has lost, and losers pay the stakes.  That's life.
+Norton, you knew who I was all the time, didn't you?"
+
+"I did; Mr. Hargreave.  There was a scar on the lobe of your ear; and
+secretly I often wondered at the likeness between you and the real
+Jones.  When I caught a glimpse of that ear, then I knew what the game
+was.  And I'll add that you played it amazingly well.  The one flaw in
+Braine's campaign was his hurry.  He started the ball rolling before
+getting all the phases clearly established in his mind.  He was a brave
+man, anyhow; and more than once he had me where I believed that prayers
+only were necessary."
+
+"And do you think that you can lead Florence to the million?" asked
+Hargreave, smiling.
+
+"For one thing, it is in her room, and has always been there.  It never
+was in the chest."
+
+"Not bad, not bad," mused the father.
+
+"But perhaps after all it will be better if you show it to her
+yourself."
+
+"Just a little uncertain?" jibed the millionaire.
+
+"Absolutely certain.  I will whisper in your ear where it is hidden."
+Norton leaned forward as Hargreave bent attentively.
+
+"You've hit it!  But how in the world did you guess it?"
+
+"Because it was the last place any one would look for it.  I judged at
+the start that you'd hide it in just such a spot, in some place where
+you could always guard it, and lay your hands on it quickly if needs
+said must."
+
+"I'm mighty glad you were on my side," said Hargreave.  "In a few
+minutes we'll go up and take a look at those packets of bills.  There's
+a very unhappy young woman there at present."
+
+"It is in my room?" cried Florence.
+
+Hargreave nodded.
+
+Meantime the Countess Olga hovered between two courses: a brave attempt
+to escape by the window or to turn the revolver against her heart.  In
+either case there was nothing left in life for her.  The man she loved
+was dead below, killed by her hand.  She felt as though she was
+treading air in some fantastical nightmare.  She could not go forward
+or backward, and her heels were always within reach of her pursuers.
+
+So this was the end of things?  The dreams she had had of going away
+with Braine to other climes, the happiness she had pictured, all mere
+chimeras!  A sudden rage swept over her.  She would escape, she would
+continue to play the game to the end.  She would show them that she had
+been the man's mate, not his pliant tool.  She raised the window and
+stepped out onto the balcony .... into the hands of the policeman who
+had patiently been waiting for her to do so!  Instantly she placed the
+revolver at her temple.  A quick clutch, and the policeman had her by
+the wrist.  She made one tigerish effort to free herself, shrugged, and
+signified that she surrendered.
+
+"I don't want to hurt you, Miss," said the policeman; "but if you make
+any attempt to escape, I'll have to put the handcuffs on you."
+
+"I'll go quietly.  What are you going to do with me?"
+
+"Turn you over to the Russian agent.  He has extradition papers; and I
+guess it's Siberia."
+
+[Illustration: "FLORENCE, THAT IS ALL YOURS"]
+
+"For me?" She laughed scornfully.  "Do I look like a woman who would go
+to Siberia?"
+
+"Be careful, Miss.  As I said, I don't want to put the cuffs on unless
+I have to."
+
+She laughed again.  It did not have a pleasant sound in the officer's
+ears.  He had heard women, suicidal bent, laugh like that.
+
+"I'll ask you for that ring on your finger."
+
+"Do you think there is poison in it?"
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised," he admitted.
+
+She slipped the ring from her finger and gave it to him.
+
+"There is poison in it; so be careful how you handle it," she said.
+
+The policeman accepted it gingerly and dropped it into his capacious
+pocket.  It tinkled as it fell against the handcuffs.
+
+At that moment the other policeman broke in the door.
+
+"All right, Dolan; she's given up the game."
+
+"She didn't kill the man after all," said Dolan.
+
+"He's alive?" she screamed.
+
+"Yes; and they've taken him off to the Tombs.  Just a scalp wound.
+He'll be all right in a day or two."
+
+"Alive!" murmured Olga.  She had not killed the man she loved, then?
+And if they were indeed taken to Siberia, she would be with him until
+the end of things.
+
+With her handsome head proudly erect, she walked toward the door.  She
+paused for a moment to look at the portrait of Hargreave.  Somehow it
+seemed to smile at her ironically.  Then on, down the stairs, between
+the two officers, she went.  Her glance traveled coolly from face to
+face, and stopped at Florence's.  There she saw pity.
+
+"You are sorry for me?" she asked skeptically.
+
+"Oh, yes!  I forgive you," said the generous Florence.
+
+"Thanks!  Officers, I am ready."
+
+So the Countess Olga passed through that hall door forever.  How many
+times had she entered it, with guile and treachery in her heart?  It
+was the game.  She had played it and lost, and she must pay her debts
+to Fate the fiddler.  Siberia!  The tin or lead mines, the
+ankle-chains, the knout, and many things that were far worse to a
+beautiful woman!  Well, so long as Braine was at her side, she would
+suffer all these things without a murmur.  And always there would be a
+chance, a chance!
+
+When they heard the taxicab rumble down the driveway to the street,
+Hargreave turned to Florence.
+
+"Come along, now, and we'll have the bad taste taken off our tongues.
+To win out is the true principle of life.  It takes off some of the
+tinsel and glamour, but the end is worth while."
+
+They all trooped up-stairs to Florence's room.  So wonderful is the
+power and attraction of money that they forgot the humiliation of their
+late enemies.
+
+Hargreave approached the portrait of himself, took it from the wall,
+pressed a button on the back, which fell outward.  Behold!  There, in
+neat packages of a hundred thousand each, lay the mystic million!  The
+spectators were awed into silence for a moment.  Perhaps the thought of
+each was identical--the long struggle, the terrible hazards, the
+deaths, that had taken place because of this enormous sum of money.
+
+A million, sometimes called cool; why, nobody knows.  There it lay,
+without feeling, without emotion; yellow notes payable to bearer on
+demand.  Presently Florence gasped, Norton sighed, and Hargreave
+smiled.  The face of Jones (or Jedson) alone remained impassive.
+
+[Illustration: AFTER THE STORM, THE SUNSHINE]
+
+A million dollars is a marvelous sight.  Very few people have ever seen
+it, not even millionaires themselves.  I dare say you never saw it; and
+I'm tolerably certain I never have, or will!  A million, ready for
+eager, careless fingers to spend, or thrifty fingers to multiply!  What
+Correggio, what Rubens, what Titian, could stand beside it?  None that
+I wot of.
+
+"Florence, that is all yours, to do with as you please, to spend when
+and how you will.  Share it with your husband-to-be.  He is a brave and
+gallant young man, and is fortunate in finding a young woman equally
+brave and gallant.  For the rest of my days I expect peace.  Perhaps
+sometimes Jones here and I will talk over the strange things that have
+happened; but we'll do that only when we haven't you young folks to
+talk to.  After your wedding journey you will return here.  While I
+live this shall be your home.  I demand that much.  Free!  No more
+looking over my shoulder when I walk the streets; no more testing
+windows and doors.  I am myself again.  I take up the thread I laid
+down eighteen years ago.  Have no fear.  Neither Braine nor Olga will
+ever return.  Russia has a grip of steel."
+
+Three weeks later Servan, the Russian agent, left for Russia with his
+three charges, Olga, Braine and Vroon.  It was a long journey they went
+upon, something like ten weeks, always watched, always under the
+strictest guard, compelled to eat with wooden forks and knives and
+spoons.  Waking or sleeping they knew no rest from espionage.  From
+Paris to Berlin, from Berlin to St. Petersburg, as Petrograd was then
+called; and then began the cruel journey over the mighty steppes of
+that barbaric wilderness to the Siberian mines.  The way of the
+transgressor is hard.
+
+On the same day that Olga and Braine made their first descent into the
+deadly mines, Florence and Norton were married.  After the storm, the
+sunshine: and who shall deny them happiness?
+
+[Illustration: IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE CEREMONY]
+
+Immediately after the ceremony the two sailed for Europe, on their
+honeymoon; and it is needless to say that some of the million went with
+them, but there was no mystery about it!
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Harold MacGrath
+
+A Sketch of the Author at Work and at Play
+
+Harold MacGrath, author of more than a dozen best sellers, the book of
+an operetta, and short stories without number, is a native of Syracuse,
+N. Y., having been born in that city on September 4, 1871, and lived
+there ever since, except when he is out circling the globe or in Gotham
+looking things over.
+
+Mr. MacGrath was a journalist before he essayed the higher form of
+literature that sells on a royalty basis, instead of by the yard, and
+he claims that he owes his start in "romancing" to a physical defect.
+Mr. MacGrath is partially deaf and while serving as a newspaper
+reporter he heard only about half of what was said to him, and had to
+"make up" the other half himself.  Thus, his imagination was given
+quite a course in physical culture before its owner's conscience began
+to prick him.  "Why not do the thing right?" MacGrath asked himself.
+"I don't knew," he replied.  "Let's try it," he suggested.  "All
+right," he answered.  And he quit the newspaper game and started a
+novel, "Arms and the Woman," which appeared in 1890.  This was followed
+by many good sellers, the speed limit of the author being three books
+some years.
+
+Next to being a novelist MacGrath is a globe-trotter.  He has been in
+every nook and corner on the face of the globe where white man dares to
+go and can get there without swimming or flying.  As a result, he has
+obtained the inspirations for most of his novels while amid the
+fascinating surroundings in some Asiatic harbor town, while traveling
+down the Rhine, or while listening to strains of Viennese music in some
+little out-of-the-way cafe along the Danube.  He is a genius in pen
+picturing and can impart the color, the life, the action of real life
+into his pages in a manner that is bound to attract.
+
+He is fond of tennis and out-of-door sports.  He likes boxing and is
+one of the best amateur pool and billiard players in the country.  He
+has friends in almost every large city in the world and has met more
+"crowned heads" than any other author, perhaps, outside of Hallie
+Erminie Rives, wife of Post Wheeler, the versatile secretary of the
+American Embassy at Tokio.
+
+As a collector and connoisseur, Mr. MacGrath has a wide reputation, his
+especial hobby being Turkish rugs and antique jewelry, of which he has
+a wonderful collection.  Another of his hobbies is horses, and although
+he owns only one himself, he will never pass a good looking horse by
+without stopping to pat it.  He even carries lump sugar in his pocket
+and takes great delight in feeding it to the horses of the mounted
+officers in New York, many of whom (the officers) know him.
+
+His method of working up his stories is unique.  According to his own
+statement, he first "thinks out" the start of his story, carrying his
+idea through what develops into the first few chapters of the book.
+Then he drops the thread of thought and starts again, but this time at
+the end, and figures out how he will dispose of his characters and how
+best the story should end.  This accomplished, he sits down to his
+typewriter and "goes to work."  While writing, he often strikes on good
+ideas to be incorporated in parts already considered.  Immediately he
+jots down his idea on the back of an envelope or a scrap of paper and
+inserts the note among the pages of his manuscript just where it
+belongs After completing his first draft, he goes back over the entire
+manuscript, making corrections here and there and additions.  He then
+sits down to sum the whole story up in his mind and by this process is
+able to pick out the flaws.  His second draft, therefore, is quite a
+finished product.  He makes the final draft of his manuscript himself,
+as he has found that he often strikes upon improvements at the eleventh
+hour that go far to better his stories.  If he turned the work of
+making the final draft over to a stenographer, this last chance would
+be lost.
+
+He is one of the few modern writers who does not have to try to be
+funny.  It is natural with him to amuse.
+
+Those interested in the chronological order of his stories will find
+them as follows:
+
+In 1901 he published his second book, "The Puppet Crown."  "The Grey
+Cloak" followed in 1903, and by the time it appeared, most of the
+readers of fiction had acquired the MacGrath habit and were on the
+lookout for the next dose of his delightful literary stimulant that
+chased the "blues."  Then came the story which established MacGrath's
+reputation, "The Man on the Box," which appeared in 1904 and is still
+one of the best sellers in popular editions.  In 1905 MacGrath put on
+some extra speed.  He worked a double shift in his brain mill and the
+result was that before the dawn of the next New Year's Day he had three
+more successful books to his credit.  They were "The Princess Elopes,"
+a novelette; "Enchantment," a book of short stories, and "Hearts and
+Masks," a novel that dealt with entanglements developing at a mask
+ball.  In the same year he wrote "Half a Rogue," another highly popular
+story.  In 1906 he turned out "The Watteau Shepherdess," an operetta.
+These two productions were followed by "The Best Man" in 1907; "The
+Enchanted Hat" and "The Lure of the Mask" in 1908.  "The Goose Girl"
+was MacGrath's next novel, and went far to uphold his reputation.  "A
+Splendid Hazard" and "The Carpet of Bagdad" followed within the space
+of little more than a year.  Next "The Place of Honeymoons" was
+published, then "Parrot & Co.," "Deuces Wild," "Pidgin Island," "The
+Adventures of Kathlyn," and "Voice in the Fog."
+
+The "purpose novel," as that term is generally understood, finds but
+little sympathy at the hands of Harold MacGrath.  Yet he has a definite
+purpose of his own.  It is to amuse.
+
+"The one definite idea I have in mind in writing stories," he says, "is
+to afford an agreeable, pleasant hour or two to my readers.  I wish to
+amuse them, to make them wish that they, too, might have lived as this
+or that hero, in this or that land, probable or improbable.  I prefer
+sunshine, mirth, buoyancy, and I believe most readers prefer the same.
+Grown-up people never wholly lose their love of fairy tales; and grown
+up fairy tales have been the scheme of most of my novels."
+
+Could an author have a better purpose than this?  Could he serve men to
+better advantage than by lightening the burden they are destined to
+carry through life by allowing their minds to dwell in pleasant places
+and to rejoice with the people of a make-believe world?
+
+"I usually begin a story as a dramatist begins a play--with the end,"
+says MacGrath.  "The characters work out the plot themselves; I have
+very little to do with it after they have started."
+
+"The structure of a plot must naturally be foremost; for, after all is
+said and done, the story's the thing.  I never outline a plot; I carry
+the main thread in my head until I am ready to put it on paper, and
+after it assumes body on paper, it has many devious twists and turns of
+which I have no prior idea."
+
+"I write whenever I feel like it, for when I am in the mood I do better
+work.  I never force myself to do so much work each day.  There are
+days when it is impossible to write one hundred words; again, I have
+written as many as seven thousand words a day.  Obstacles?  There are
+altogether too many to demonstrate.  A character that doesn't "balk"
+never fails to be uninteresting.  I have always tried to place human
+people in absurd or unique situations and to let them extricate
+themselves as you or I, if so placed.
+
+"The anatomy of a motif for a story is a complex thing, but of a
+practical joke, 'The Man on the Box' was evolved.  A young man
+disguised as a coachman drove his sister and her friend to a ball one
+night.  This happened in my native town, Syracuse, and it amused me
+greatly when critics said that the exploit was highly improbable.  Out
+of the Italian state and church marriage came the plot of 'The Lure of
+the Mask.' The most trivial thing sometimes will suggest a plot.  I
+found the ten of hearts one night on the sidewalk.  It became the motif
+of 'Hearts and Masks.'  Once, in Indianapolis, I chanced to see an
+Italian selling plaster images.  It gave me a starting point for 'A
+Splendid Hazard.'  Walking down Broadway one day I stopped to look in a
+window where oriental rugs were being advertised.  When I turned away
+the seed germ for my latest book, 'The Carpet from Bagdad,' was in my
+mind."
+
+Mr. MacGrath is an enthusiastic fisherman.  He goes to Cape Vincent,
+Lake Ontario, every summer, when he isn't ambling in China, or India,
+or Africa.  He believes that the best bass grounds in the world are
+within a radius of twenty miles from Cape Vincent, which is really in
+the head of the St. Lawrence River.  A friend undertook to convince him
+that there were other places, so MacGrath consented to accompany him to
+Canada.  They arrived at sunset, and the host extemporized over the
+glories of the setting sun.
+
+"Ever see anything to beat that, Mac?"
+
+"Fine!"
+
+On the following morning they went out for bass.  At four o'clock in
+the afternoon they had caught exactly one.
+
+The host again rhapsodized over the sunset.
+
+The second day they caught no bass at all.  On their way back to the
+hotel the host was silent.  As they came up to the landing, MacGrath
+touched his host on the shoulder.
+
+"There's your darned sunset, Jim!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Million Dollar Mystery, by Harold MacGrath
+
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