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diff --git a/40909-0.txt b/40909-0.txt index c98d5d4..03a809e 100644 --- a/40909-0.txt +++ b/40909-0.txt @@ -1,36 +1,4 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Anthony Trent, Master Criminal, by Wyndham Martyn - -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/license - - -Title: Anthony Trent, Master Criminal - -Author: Wyndham Martyn - -Release Date: October 1, 2012 [EBook #40909] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40909 *** ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL @@ -9753,365 +9721,4 @@ the adjustant’s quarters=> the adjutant’s quarters {pg 312} End of Project Gutenberg's Anthony Trent, Master Criminal, by Wyndham Martyn -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL *** - -***** This file should be named 40909-0.txt or 40909-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/9/0/40909/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Anthony Trent, Master Criminal - -Author: Wyndham Martyn - -Release Date: October 1, 2012 [EBook #40909] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - -ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL - - - - -ANTHONY TRENT, -MASTER CRIMINAL - -BY - -WYNDHAM MARTYN - -NEW YORK -MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY -1918 - -COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY -MOFFAT YARD & COMPANY - -TO -THOSE OLD AND TRIED FRIENDS OF MINE - -LILY AND ERNEST CARR - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER PAGE - -I THE FIRST STEP 1 - -II ANTHONY TRENT TALKS ON CRIME 14 - -III THE DAY OF TEMPTATION 24 - -IV BEGINNING THE GAME 36 - -V ANTHONY PULLS UP STAKES 45 - -VI FOOLING SHYLOCK DRUMMOND 55 - -VII THE DANGER OF SENTIMENT 68 - -VIII WHEN A WOMAN SMILED 82 - -IX "THE COUNTESS" 94 - -X ANTHONY TRENT SAVES A PIANO 100 - -XI ESPIONAGE AT CLOSE RANGE 116 - -XII THE SINN FEIN PLOT 126 - -XIII ANTHONY TRENT INTERESTS - HIMSELF IN POLICE GOSSIP 135 - -XIV AMBULANCES AND DIAMONDS 144 - -XV THE BARON LENDS A HAND 156 - -XVI THE MOUNT AUBYN RUBY 162 - -XVII TRENT TAKES A HOLIDAY 172 - -XVIII THE GREAT BLACK BIRD 180 - -XIX TRENT ACQUIRES A HOME 192 - -XX "WANTED--AN EMERALD" 196 - -XXI THE MURDER OF ANDREW APTHORPE 208 - -XXII A THIEF TO CATCH A THIEF 219 - -XXIII THE SECRET OF THE BLACK BAG 227 - -XXIV DEVLIN'S PROMISE 232 - -XXV ON THE TRAIL OF "THE COUNTESS" 236 - -XXVI ANTHONY TRENT--"PAYING GUEST" 251 - -XXVII MRS. KINNEY MAKES A CONFESSION 267 - -XXVIII THE GERMAN SPY MERCHANT 284 - -XXIX MRS. KINNEY INTERVENES 297 - -XXX "PRIVATE TRENT" 301 - -XXXI DEVLIN'S REVENGE 309 - - - - -ANTHONY TRENT - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE FIRST STEP - - -AUSTIN the butler gave his evidence in a straightforward fashion. He was -a man slightly below middle height, inclined to portliness, but bore -himself with the dignity of one who had been likened to an archbishop. - -Although he had been examined by a number of minor officials, hectored -by them, threatened or cajoled as they interpreted their duty, his -testimony remained the same. And when he hoped this tedious business was -all over, he was brought before Inspector McWalsh and compelled to begin -all over again. It was McWalsh's theory that a man may be startled into -telling the truth that will convict him. He had a habit of leaning -forward, chin thrust out, great fists clenched, and hurling accusations -at suspects. - -He disliked Austin at sight. The feeling was not wholly of national -origin. McWalsh liked witnesses, no less than criminals, to exhibit some -indications of the terrors his name had inspired to the guilty. Austin -gazed about him as though the surroundings were not to his taste. His -attitude was one of deferential boredom. He recognized the inspector as -one representing justly constituted authority to be accepted with -respect in everything but a social sense. - -Inspector McWalsh permitted himself to make jocose remarks as to -Austin's personal appearance. McWalsh passed for a wit among his -inferiors. - -"At half past twelve on Tuesday I came into the library," the butler -repeated patiently, "and asked Mr. Warren if he wanted anything before I -went to bed." - -"What did he say?" demanded the inspector. - -"That he did not want anything and that I could go to bed." - -"And you did?" - -"Naturally," the butler returned. - -"What duties have you the last thing before retiring?" - -"I see that the doors and windows are fastened." - -The inspector sneered. The small black eyes set in his heavy red face -regarded the smaller man malevolently. - -"And you did it so damn well that within an hour or so, ten thousand -dollars' worth of valuables was walked off with by a crook! How do you -account for that?" - -"I don't try to," the butler answered suavely, "that's for you gentlemen -of the police. I have my duties and I attend to them as my testimonials -show. I don't presume to give you advice but I should say it was because -the crook was cleverer than your men." - -"Don't get funny," snapped McWalsh. He had on the table before him -Austin's modest life history which consisted mainly in terms of service -to wealthy families in England and the United States. These proved him -to be efficient and trustworthy. "I want answers to my questions and not -comments from you." - -Austin's manner nettled him. It was that slightly superior air, the -servants' mark of contempt. And never before had the inspector been -referred to as "a gentleman of the police;" he suspected a slight. - -"Let's get this thing straight," he went on. "You went to bed when your -services were no longer required. Your employer said to you, 'You can go -to bed, Austin, I don't want anything,' so you locked up and retired. -You didn't know anything about the burglary until half past six o'clock -on Wednesday morning--this morning---- You aroused your employer who -sent for the police. That's correct?" - -"Absolutely," Austin returned. He was, plainly, not much interested. - -"And you still stick to it that Mr. Warren made that remark?" - -Austin looked at the inspector quickly. His bored manner was gone. - -"Yes," he said deliberately. "To the best of my knowledge those were his -words. I may have made a mistake in the phrasing but that is what he -meant." - -"What's the good of your coming here and lying to me?" The inspector -spoke in an aggrieved tone. - -"I was brought here against my will," Austin reminded him, "and I have -not lied, although your manner has been most offensive. You see, sir, -I'm accustomed to gentlefolk." - -McWalsh motioned him to be silent. - -"That'll do," he commanded, "I'm not interested in what you think. Now -answer this carefully. What clothes was Mr. Warren wearing?" - -"Evening dress," said the butler, "but a claret-colored velvet smoking -jacket instead of a black coat." - -"How was he looking?" - -"Do you mean in what direction?" - -"You know I don't. I mean was he looking as usual? Was there anything -unusual in his look?" - -"Nothing that I noticed," Austin told him, "but then his back was to me -so I am not competent to judge." - -"When you speak to any one don't you go up and look 'em in the face like -a man same as I'm talking and looking at you?" - -Austin permitted himself to smile. - -"Do you suggest I should look at Mr. Warren as you are looking at me? -Pardon me, sir, but I should lose my place if I did." - -McWalsh flushed a darker red. - -"Why didn't you look at him in your own way then?" - -"It's very clear," Austin answered with dignity, "that you know very -little of the ways of an establishment like ours. I stood at the door as -I usually do, asked a question I have done hundreds of times and -received the same answer I do as a rule. If I'd known I was to have to -answer all these questions I might have recollected more about it." - -"What was Mr. Warren doing?" - -"Reading a paper and smoking." - -"He was alone?" - -"Yes." - -"And all the other servants had gone to bed?" - -"Yes." - -"You heard no unusual sounds that night?" - -"If I had I should have investigated them." - -"No doubt," sneered the other, "you look like a man who would enjoy -running into a crook with a gun." - -"I should not enjoy it," Austin returned seriously. - -Inspector McWalsh beckoned to one of his inferiors. - -"Keep this man outside till I send for him and see he don't speak to his -boss who's waiting. Send Mr. Warren right in." - -Conington Warren, one of the most popular men in society, member of the -desirable clubs, millionaire owner of thoroughbreds, came briskly in. He -was now about fifty, handsome still, but his florid face was marked by -the convivial years. Inspector McWalsh had long followed the Warren -colors famous on the big race courses. His manner showed his respect for -the owner of his favorite stable. - -"I asked you to come here," he began, "because you told my secretary -over the phone that you had some new light on this burglary. So far it -seems just an ordinary case without any unusual angles." - -"It's not as ordinary as you think," said Conington Warren. He offered -McWalsh one of his famous cigars. "Incidentally it does not show me up -very favorably as I'm bound to admit." - -McWalsh regarded his cigar reverently. Warren smoked nothing but these -superb things. What a man! What a man! - -"I can't believe that, Mr. Warren," he returned. - -"Are you interested in the thoroughbreds, McWalsh?" - -"Am I?" cried the other enthusiastically. "Why when I couldn't spend a -few hours at old Sheepshead Bay I nearly resigned. Why, Mr. Warren, I -made enough on Conington when he won the Brooklyn Handicap to pay the -mortgage off on my home!" - -"Then you'll understand," the sportsman said graciously. "It's like -this. Last year I bought a number of yearlings at the Newmarket sales in -England. There's one of them--a chestnut colt named Saint Beau--who did -a most remarkable trial a day or two since. In confidence, inspector, it -was better than Conington's best. Make a note of that but keep it under -your hat." - -"I surely will, sir," cried the ecstatic McWalsh. - -"When I heard the time of the trial I gave a little dinner to a number -of good pals at Voisin's." - -The names he mentioned were all of them prominently known in the -fashionable world of sport. - -"We had more champagne than was good for us and when the dinner was over -we all went to Reggie Camplyn's rooms where he invented the Saint Beau -cocktail. I give you my word, inspector, the thing has a thoro'bred kick -to it. It's one of those damned insidious cocktails wrapped up in cream -to make you think it's innocent. After I'd had a few I said to Camplyn, -'You've made me what I am to-night; I insist on sleeping here." - -"But you didn't!" cried McWalsh. - -"Until four in the morning. The Saint Beau cocktail made me so ill at -four that I got up and walked down to my house." - -"What time did you get there?" - -"Exactly at five. I felt the need of the cool air, so I took a long walk -first." - -"Then at half past twelve you were at----" - -"Voisin's as a score of people can prove. I had a table in the balcony -and saw all the people I ever knew it seemed to me." - -"But this morning you told the officers who made an investigation of -the robbery a totally different story. You corroborated your butler's -evidence that you were at home at half past twelve and told him to go to -bed because you didn't want anything else. How do you account for that?" - -The inspector was troubled. His only consolation was that he would have -another session soon with the supercilious Austin. He licked his lips at -the thought. But he did not wish to involve the horseman in any -difficulties if he could avoid it. - -Conington Warren laughed easily. - -"You know how it is, inspector. You can understand that sometimes a man -suddenly waked out of heavy sleep can forget what happened the night -before for the time being. That's what happened with me. I clean forgot -the dinner, Camplyn's Saint Beau cocktail, everything. I only knew I had -the devil of a head. I always rely on Austin." - -"When did you remember?" McWalsh demanded. - -"When Camplyn came in to see me and ask for the ingredients of the -cocktail which he claims I invented. Then I recollected everything and -telephoned to you." - -"I knew that damned fellow was lying," McWalsh cried. "He thought he was -clever. He'll find out just how smart he is! Tell me, Mr. Warren, what -did he want to put up that fiction for?" - -Warren put a hot hand to a head which still ached. - -"I can't imagine," he answered. "I've never found him out in a lie yet. -He's too damn conceited to descend to one. I don't think you should -suspect Austin." - -"I'm sorry, Mr. Warren, but I've got to. He lied to you and he lied to -me and--ten thousand dollars' worth of stuff was stolen. He's in the -outer room now. I'll have him brought in." - -Austin entered with his precise and measured tread and bowed with -respectful affection to his employer. He liked Conington Warren better -than any American with whom he had taken service. The hearty, -horse-loving type was one which appealed to Austin. He had several times -been obliged to throw up lucrative jobs because employers persisted in -treating him as an equal. - -"This is a bad mix-up," his master began. "The inspector seems to think -you have been deceiving him." - -"He has and he knows it," cried McWalsh. - -"He's inclined to be hasty, sir," said Austin tolerantly. - -"See here," snapped the inspector, "you say you found Mr. Warren in his -library at half past twelve. Did you hear him enter the house?" - -"No," the butler returned, "he has his key." - -"The thing we want to clear up," interrupted Mr. Warren in a kindly -tone, "is simply this. What did I say to you when you spoke to me?" - -Austin looked uncomfortable. - -"It was a gesture, sir, rather than a word. You waved your arm and I -knew what you meant." - -"You are one prize liar!" roared the inspector. "You said something -quite different when I asked you." - -"I don't see that it matters much," Austin returned acidly. "On Monday -night Mr. Warren may have said for me to go to bed. On Tuesday he may -have waved his hand impatient like. On Wednesday he may have asked for -cigars or the evening papers. I remember only that on this occasion I -was not asked for anything." He turned to his employer, "I should like -to remind you, sir, that we are giving a dinner party to-night and I -ought to be seeing after it now. Can I go, sir?" - -"You cannot," cried Inspector McWalsh, "you're under arrest!" - -"I told you he was hasty, sir," said Austin without emotion. "What for -may I ask?" - -"Let me answer him please, inspector," begged Conington Warren. "You -told the police that you saw me sitting in my library. Are you prepared -to swear to that, Austin?" - -"Certainly, sir," said the man. "You were in the big turkish rocker, -smoking one of the cigars you are smoking now and reading the Sporting -Times." - -"I'd give a thousand dollars to know who that was!" Warren commented. -"It wasn't I at all. I was dining at Voisin's at that hour." - -For the first time Austin was acutely disturbed. - -"I don't understand," he stammered. "It looked like you, sir, it did -indeed." - -"And if you'd only gone up like a man and looked in his face you'd have -seen the burglar," McWalsh said scowling. - -Austin looked at the speaker coldly. - -"It is not my business to suspect my employer of being a crook. If it's -crime to be deceived then I'm guilty. I admit I didn't look very -closely. I was sleepy and wanting to get to bed, but I did notice that -whoever it was wore a claret colored velvet smoking jacket." - -"I've a list here," said McWalsh, "given my men by the footman of the -people who called at Mr. Warren's house yesterday. Look it over and see -if you can supplement it." - -"There was one other visitor," Austin said slowly, "an intimate friend -of Mr. Warren's, but I don't know his name. I didn't admit him." - -"That's curious," said his employer. "I thought you knew every one who -was intimate enough to come to my home. What was he like?" - -"I didn't see him full face," the other admitted, "but he was tall, -about your height, but dark in coloring with a rather large nose. It -struck me he was a trifle in liquor if I may say so." - -"I don't remember any one like that," Warren asserted. - -"The gentleman," said Austin anxious to establish his point, "who bet -you ten thousand dollars that his filly could beat your Saint Beau at -five furlongs." - -"This is all damned nonsense," returned Conington Warren a little -crossly, "I'm in possession of my full senses now at all events. I made -no such wager." - -"I told you he was a crook, Mr. Warren," cried McWalsh gleefully. "See -what he's trying to put over on you now!" - -"Surely, sir," said the butler anxiously, "you remember asking a -gentleman to come into your dressing room?" - -"You're crazy," his master declared, "I asked nobody. Why should I?" - -"He was standing just inside the room as I passed by. He was very merry. -He was calling you 'Connie' like only your very intimate friends do." - -"And what was I saying?" Warren returned, impressed with the earnestness -of one in whom he believed. - -"I didn't listen, sir," the butler answered. "I was just passing along -the hall." - -"Did you hear Mr. Warren's voice?" McWalsh demanded suddenly. - -Austin reflected. - -"I wouldn't swear to it," he decided. - -"What time was it?" Warren asked. - -"A little after ten," said Austin. - -"I left the house at eight, so you are not likely to have heard me. I -was at Voisin's from half past eight until nearly one. When did you -first see this supposed friend?" - -"I was going up the main stairway as he was about to come down toward -me. Almost directly I saw him--and I didn't at the time think he saw -me--he turned back as if you had called him from your room. He said, -'What is it, Connie?' then he walked down the corridor and stood half -way in your room talking to you as I supposed. He looked like a -gentleman who might belong to your clubs, sir, and spoke like one. What -was I to think?" - -"I'm not blaming you," said Conington Warren. "I'm as puzzled as you -are. Didn't Yogotama see him when he went to my room to get my smoking -jacket which you say he wore? What was Yogotama doing to allow that sort -of thing?" - -"You forget, sir," explained Austin, "that Yogotama wasn't there." - -"Why wasn't he?" - -"Directly he got your note he went off to the camp." - -"This gets worse and worse," Warren asserted. "I sent him no note." - -"He got one in your writing apparently written on the stationery of the -Knickerbocker Club. I saw it. You told him to go instantly to your camp -and prepare it for immediate occupancy. He was to take Evans and one of -the touring cars. He got the note about half past eight." - -"Just after you'd left the house," McWalsh commented. - -"It didn't take Yogotama a half hour to prepare," added Austin. - -"What do you make of it, inspector?" Warren demanded. - -"A clever crook, that's all," said the other, "but he can't pull -anything like that in this town and get away with it." - -Austin made a polite gesture implying doubt. It incensed the official. - -"You don't think so, eh?" - -"Not from what I've seen of your methods. I've no doubt you can deal -with the common ruck of criminals, but this man is different. It may be -easy enough for a man to deceive you people by pretending to be a -gentleman but we can see through them. Frankly," said Austin growing -bolder, "I don't think you gentlemen of the police have the native wit -for the higher kind of work." - -Warren looked from one to the other of them. This was a new and -rebellious Austin, a man chafing under a personal grievance, a -belligerent butler. - -"You mustn't speak like that to Inspector McWalsh," he commanded. "He is -doing his duty." - -"That may be sir," Austin remarked, "but how would you like to be called -'Little Lancelot from Lunnon'?" - -"You look it," McWalsh said roughly. "Anyway I've no time to argue with -house servants. What you've got to do is to look through our collection -of pictures and see if you can identify any of 'em with the man you say -you saw." - -Austin surveyed the faces with open aversion. - -"He's not here," said Austin decisively. "He was not this criminal type -at all. I tell you I mistook him for a member of Mr. Warren's clubs, the -kind of gentleman who dines at the house. These," and he pointed -derisively to the pillories of crime. "You wouldn't be likely to see any -of these at our house. They are just common." - -McWalsh sneered. - -"I see. Look more like policemen I suppose?" - -Austin smiled blandly. - -"The very thing that was in my mind." - - - - -CHAPTER II - -ANTHONY TRENT TALKS ON CRIME - - -ANTHONY TRENTwas working his typewriter at top speed when there came a -sudden, peremptory knocking at his door. - -"Lord!" he grumbled, rising, "it must be old Lund to say I'm keeping him -awake." - -He threw open his door to find a small, choleric and elderly man clad in -a faded dressing gown. It was a man with a just grievance and a desire -to express it. - -"This is no time to hammer on your typewriter," said Mr. Lund fiercely. -"This is a boarding house and not a private residence. Do you realize -that you generally begin work at midnight?" - -"Come in," said Anthony Trent genially. With friendly force he dragged -the smaller man along and placed him in a morris chair. "Come in and -give me your opinion of the kind of cigar smoked by the president of the -publishing house for whose magazines I work noisily at midnight." - -Mr. Lund found himself a few seconds later sitting by an open window, an -excellent cigar between his teeth, and the lights of New York spread -before him. And he found his petulance vanishing. He wondered why it was -that although he had before this come raging to Anthony Trent's door, he -always suffered himself to be talked out of his ill humors. It was -something magnetic and engaging that surrounded this young writer of -short stories. - -"I can't smoke a cigar when I'm working," said Trent, lighting a pipe. - -"Surely," said Mr. Lund, not willing so soon to be robbed of his -grievance, "you choose the wrong hours to work. Mrs. Clarke says you -hardly ever touch your typewriter till late." - -"That's because you don't appreciate the kind of story I write," Anthony -Trent told him. "If I wrote the conventional story of love or matrimony -I could work so many hours a day and begin at nine like any business -man. But I don't. I begin to write just when the world I write of begins -to live. My men and women are waking into life now, just when the other -folks are climbing into their suburban beds." - -"I understood you wrote detective stories," Mr. Lund remarked. His -grievances were vanishing. His opinion of the president of Trent's -magazine was a high one. - -"Crook stories," Anthony Trent confided. "Not the professional doings of -thoughtless thugs. They don't interest me a tinker's curse. I like -subtlety in crime. I could take you now into the great restaurants on -Broadway or Fifth Avenue and point out to you some of the kings of -crime--men who are clever enough to protect themselves from the police. -Men who play the game as a good chess player does against a poorer one, -with the certainty of being a move ahead." - -Mr. Lund conjured up a vision of such a restaurant peopled by such a -festive crowd. He felt in that moment that an early manhood spent in -Somerville had perhaps robbed him of a chance to live. - -"They all get caught sooner or later," asserted the little man in the -morris chair. - -"Because they get careless or because they trust another. If you want to -be a successful crook, Mr. Lund, you'll have to map out your plan of -life as carefully as an athlete trains for a specific event. Now if you -went in for crime you'd have to examine your weaknesses." - -"Thank you," said Mr. Lund a little huffily, "I am not going in for a -life of crime. I am perfectly content with my own line." This, with -unconscious sarcasm for Mr. Lund, pursued what he always told the -borders was "the advertising." - -"There are degrees in crime I admit," said Anthony Trent, "but I am -perfectly serious in what I say. The ordinary crook has a low mental -capacity. He generally gets caught in the end as all such clumsy asses -should. The really big man in crime often gets caught because he is not -aware of his weaknesses. Drink often brings out an incautious boasting -side of a man. If you are going in for crime, Mr. Lund, cut out drink I -beg of you." - -"I do not need your advice," Mr. Lund returned with some dignity. "I -have tasted rum once only in my life." - -Trent looked at him interested. - -"It would probably make you want to fight," he said. - -"I don't care to think of it," said Mr. Lund. - -"And the curious part of it is," mused Trent, "that in the sort of crowd -these high class crooks mix with it is most unusual not to drink, and -the man who doesn't is almost always under suspicion. The great thing is -to be able to take your share and stop before the danger mark is -reached. Did you ever hear of Captain Despard?" - -"I think not," Lund answered. - -"A boyhood idol of mine," Anthony Trent admitted. "One of the few -gentleman crooks. Most of the so-called gentlemen criminals have been -anything but gentlemen born. Despard was. I was in Devonshire on my last -trip to the other side and I made a pilgrimage to the place where he was -born. Funny to think that a man brought up in one of the 'stately homes -of England, how beautiful they stand,' should come to what he was." - -"Woman, I suppose," said Lund, as one man of the world to another. - -"Not in the beginning," Anthony Trent answered. "He was a cavalry -officer in India--Kipling type you know--and had a craze for precious -stones. Began to collect them honestly enough and found his pay and -private fortune insufficient. He got kicked out of his regiment anyway -and went to Cape Town. One night a very large diamond was stolen from a -bedroom of the Mount Nelson hotel and he was suspected. They couldn't -prove anything, but he came over here to New York and sold it, under -another name, and with a different history, to one of the Pierpoints. -The trouble with Captain Despard was that he used to drink heavily when -he had pulled a big thing off. While he was planning a _coup_ he was -temperate and he never touched a drop while he was working." - -"Started to boast, I suppose?" Lund suggested. - -"No," said Anthony Trent. "Not that sort at all. He lived at a pretty -fair sort of club here in the forties and was well enough liked until -the drink was in him. It was then that he began to think of his former -mode of life and the kind he was now living. He used to think the other -members were trying to slight him or avoid him. He laboriously picked -quarrels with some of them. He beat up one of them in a fist fight in -the club billiard room. This fellow brooded over his licking for a long -time and then with another man, also inflamed with cocktails, went up to -Despard's room to beat him up. Despard was out, so they broke his -furniture. They found that the legs of chairs and tables had been -hollowed so as to conceal what Despard stole. It was in one of the -chairs that they found the Crediton pearls which had been missing for a -year. They waited for him and he was sent to Sing Sing but escaped. He -shot a man later in Denver and was executed. He might have been living -comfortably but for getting suspicious when he had been drinking." - -"You must have studied this thing deeply," Lund commented. - -"I have," Anthony Trent admitted; "I know the histories of most of the -great criminals and their crimes. The police do too, but I know more -than they. I make a study of the man as well as his crime. I find vanity -at the root of many failures." - -"_Cherchez la femme_," Mr. Lund insisted. - -"Not that sort of vanity," Anthony Trent corrected. "I mean the sheer -love to boast about one's abilities when other men are boasting of -theirs. There was a man called Paul Vierick, by profession a second -story man. He was short, stout and a great consumer of beer and in his -idle hours fond of bowling. He was staying in Stony Creek, Connecticut, -one summer, when a tennis ball was hit up high and lodged in a gutter -pipe on the roof. Vierick told the young man who had hit it there how to -get it. It was so dangerous looking a climb that the lad refused. Some -of the guests suggested in fun that Vierick should try. They made him -mad. He thought they were laughing at his two hundred pound look. They -were not to know that a more expert porch climber didn't exist than this -man who had been a professional trapeze man in a circus. They say he ran -up the side of that house like a monkey. Directly he had done it and -people began talking he knew he'd been unwise. He had been posing as a -retired dentist and here he was running up walls like the count in -Dracula. He moved away and presently denied the story so vehemently that -an intelligent young lawyer investigated him and he is now up the -river." - -"That's an interesting study," Mr. Lund commented. He was thoroughly -taken up with the subject. "Do you know any more instances like that?" - -"I know hundreds," Anthony Trent returned smiling. "I could keep on all -night. Your town of Somerville produced Blodgett the Strangler. You must -have heard of him?" - -"I was at school with him," Lund said almost excitedly. It was a secret -he had buried in his breast for years. Now it seemed to admit him to -something of a kinship with Anthony Trent. "He was always chasing after -women." - -"That wasn't the thing which got him. It was the desire to set right a -Harvard professor of anatomy on the subject of strangulation. Blodgett -had his own theories. You may remember he strangled his stepfather when -he was only fifteen." - -"He nearly strangled me once," Mr. Lund exclaimed. "He would have done -if I hadn't had sufficient presence of mind to bite him in the thumb." - -"Good for you," said the other heartily. "You'll find the history of -crime is full of the little mistakes that take the cleverest of them to -the chair. And yet," he mused, "it's a great life. One man pitting his -courage and knowledge against all the forces organized by society to -stamp him out. You've got to be above the average in almost every -quality to succeed if you work alone." - -Mr. Lund felt a trifle uncomfortable. The bright laughing face that had -been Anthony Trent to him had given place to a sterner cast of -countenance. The new Trent reminded him of a hawk. There was suddenly -brought to the rather timid and elderly man the impression of ruthless -strength and tireless energy. He had been a score of times in Anthony -Trent's room and had always found him amusing and light hearted. Never -until to-night had they touched upon crime. The New York over which Mr. -Lund gazed from the seat by the window no longer seemed a friendly city. -Crime and violence lurked in its every corner, he reflected. - -Mr. Lund was annoyed with himself for feeling nervous. To brace up his -courage he reverted to his former grievance. The sustaining cigar had -long ceased to give comfort. - -"I must protest at being waked up night after night by your typewriting -machine. Everybody seems to be in bed and asleep but you. I must have my -eight hours, Mr. Trent." - -Anthony Trent came to his side. - -"Everybody asleep?" he gibed. "Why, man, the shadows are alive if you'll -only look into them. And as to the night, it is never quiet. A myriad -strange sounds are blended into this stillness you call night." His -voice sank to a whisper and he took the discomfited Lund's arm. "Can you -see a woman standing there in the shadow of that tree?" - -"It might be a woman," Lund admitted guardedly. - -"It is," he was told; "she followed not ten yards behind you as you came -from the El. She's been waiting for a man and he ought to be by in a few -minutes now. She's known in every rogues' gallery in the world. Scotland -Yard knows her as Gipsey Lee, and if ever a woman deserved the chair she -does." - -"Not murder?" Lund hazarded timidly. He shivered. "It's a little cold by -the window." - -"Don't move," Anthony commanded. "You may see a tragedy unroll itself -before your eyes in a little while. She's waiting for a banker named -Pereira who looted Costa Rica. He's a big, heavy man." - -"He's coming now," Lund whispered. "I don't like this at all, Mr. -Trent." - -"He won't either," muttered the other. - -Unable to move Mr. Lund watched a tall man come toward the shadows which -hid Gipsey Lee. - -"We ought to warn him," Mr. Lund protested. - -"Not on your life," he was told. "This time it is punishment, not -murder. She saved his life and he deserted her. Pereira's pretending to -be drunk. I wonder why. He dare not touch a drop because he has Bright's -disease in the last stages." - -A minute later Mr. Lund, indignant and commanding as his inches -permitted, was shaking an angry finger at his host. - -"You've no right to frighten me," he exclaimed, "with your Gipsey Lee -and Pereira when it was only poor Mrs. Clarke waiting for that drunken -scamp of a husband who spends all he earns at the corner saloon." - -Heavy steps passed along the passage. It was Clarke making his bedward -way to his wife's verbal accompaniment. - -"You ought to be pleased to get a thrill like that for nothing," said -Anthony Trent laughing. "I'd pay good money for it." - -"I don't like it," Mr. Lund insisted. "I thought you meant it." - -"I did," the other asserted, "for the moment. New York is full of such -stories and if they don't happen in this street they happen in another. -They always happen after midnight and I've got to put them down on the -old machine. Somewhere a Gipsey Lee is waiting for a defaulting South -American banker or a Captain Despard is planning to get a priceless -stone, or a humbler Vierick plotting to climb into an inviting window, -or some one like your boyhood chum Blodgett planning to get his hands -around some one's throat." - -Anthony Trent leaned from the window and breathed in the soft night air. - -"It's a great old city," he said, half affectionately, "and I make my -living by letting my hook down into the night and drawing up a mystery. -You mustn't mind if I sometimes rattle the old Royal when better folks -are asleep." - -"If you'll take the advice of an older man," said Mr. Lund with an air -of firmness, "you'll let crook stories alone and choose something a -little healthier. Your mind is full of them." - -Still a little outraged Mr. Lund bowed himself from the room. Anthony -Trent fed his ancient briar and took the seat by the window. - -"I wonder if he's right," mused Anthony Trent. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE DAY OF TEMPTATION - - -THE dawn had long passed and the milkmen had awakened their unwilling -clients two hours agone before Anthony Trent finished his story. He was -not a quick worker. His was a mind that labored heavily unless the -details of his work were accurate. This time he was satisfied. It was a -good story and the editor for whom he was doing a series would be -pleased. He might even increase his rates. - -Crosbeigh, the editor of the magazine which sought Anthony Trent's crook -stories, was an amiable being who had won a reputation for profundity by -reason of eloquent silences. He would have done well in any line of work -where originality was not desired. He knew, from what his circulation -manager told him, that Trent's stories made circulation and he liked the -writer apart from his work. Perhaps because he was not a disappointed -author he was free from certain editorial prejudices. - -"Sit down," he cried cordially, when Anthony Trent was shown in. "Take a -cigarette and I'll read this right away." Crosbeigh was a nervous man -who battled daily with subway crowds and was apt to be irritable. - -"It's great," he said when he had finished it, "Great! Doyle, Hornung, -well--there you are!" It was one of his moments of silent eloquence. -The listener might have inferred anything. - -"But they are paid real money," replied Anthony Trent gloomily. - -"You get two cents a word," Crosbeigh reminded him, "you haven't a wife -and children to support." - -"I'd be a gay little adventurer to try it on what I make at writing," -Trent told him. "It takes me almost a month to write one of those yarns -and I get a hundred and fifty each." - -"You are a slow worker," his editor declared. - -"I have to be," he retorted. "If I were writing love slush and pretty -heroine stuff it would be different. Do you know, Crosbeigh, there isn't -a thing in these stories of mine that is impossible? I take the most -particular care that my details are correct. When I began I didn't know -anything about burglar alarms. What did I do? I got a job in the shop -that makes the best known one. I'm worth more than two cents a word!" - -"That's our maximum," Crosbeigh asserted. "These are not good days for -the magazine business. Shot to pieces. If I said what I knew. If you -knew what _I_ got and how much I had to do with it!" - -Anthony Trent looked at him critically. He saw a very carefully dressed -Crosbeigh to-day, a man whose trousers were pressed, whose shoes were -shined, who exuded prosperity. Never had he seen him so apparently -affluent. - -"Come into money?" he enquired. "Whence the prosperity? Whose wardrobe -have you robbed?" - -"These are my own clothes," returned Crosbeigh with dignity, "at least -leave me my clothes." - -"Sure," said Trent amiably, "if I took 'em you'd be arrested. But tell -me why this sartorial display. Are you going to be photographed for the -'great editors' series?" - -"I'm lunching with an old friend," Crosbeigh answered, "a man of -affairs, a man of millions, a man about whom I could say many things." - -"Say them," his contributor demanded, "let me in on a man for whom you -have arrayed yourself in all your glory. Who is your friend? Is she -pretty? I don't believe it's a man at all." - -"It's a man I know and respect," he said, a trifle nettled at the -comments his apparel had drawn. "It's the man who takes me every year to -the Yale-Harvard boat race." - -"Your annual jag party? He's no fit company for a respectable editor." - -"It is college spirit," Crosbeigh explained. - -"You can call it by any name but it's too strong for you. What is the -name of your honored friend?" - -"Conington Warren," Crosbeigh said proudly. - -"That's the millionaire sportsman with the stable of steeple-chasers, -isn't it?" Trent demanded. - -"He wins all the big races," Crosbeigh elaborated. - -"He's enormously rich, splendidly generous, has everything. Only one -thing--drink." Crosbeigh fell into silence. - -"You've led him astray you mean?" The spectacle of the sober editor -consorting with reckless bloods of the Conington Warren type amused -Trent. - -"Same year at college," Crosbeigh explained, "and he has always been -friendly. God knows why," the editor said gloomily. The difference in -their lot seemed suddenly to appal him. - -"There must be something unsuspectedly bad in your make-up," Trent -declared, "which attracts him to you. It can't be he wants to sell you a -story." - -"There are all sorts of rumors about him," Crosbeigh went on -meditatively, "started by his wife's people, I believe. He was wild. -Sometimes he has hinted at it. I know him well enough to call him -'Connie' and go up to his dressing-room sometimes. That's a mark of -intimacy. My Lord, Trent, but it makes me envious to see with what -luxury the rich can live. He has a Japanese valet and masseur, Togoyama, -and an imported butler who looks like a bishop. They know him at his -worst and worship him. He's magnetic, that's what Connie is, magnetic. -Have you ever thought what having a million a year means?" - -"Ye Gods," groaned Trent, "don't you read my lamentations in every story -you buy from me at bargain rates?" - -"And a shooting box in Scotland which he uses two weeks a year in the -grouse season. A great Tudor residence in Devonshire overlooking Exmoor, -a town house in Park Lane which is London's Fifth Avenue! And you know -what he's got here in his own country. Can you imagine it?" - -"Not on forty dollars a week," said Anthony Trent gloomily. - -"You'd make more if you were the hero of your own stories," Crosbeigh -told him. - -Anthony Trent turned on him quickly, "What do you mean?" - -"Why this crook you are making famous gets away with enough plunder to -live as well as Conington Warren." - -"Ah, but that's in a story," returned the author. - -"Then you mean they aren't as exact and possible as you've been telling -me?" - -"They are what I said they were," their author declared. "They could be -worked out, with ordinary luck, by any man with an active body, good -education and address. The typical thick-witted criminal wouldn't have a -chance." - -It was a curious thing, thought Anthony Trent, that Crosbeigh should -mention the very thing that had been running in his mind for weeks. To -live in such an elaborate manner as Conington Warren was not his -ambition. The squandering of large sums of money on stage favorites of -the moment was not to his taste; but he wanted certainly more than he -was earning. Trent had a passion for fishing, golf and music. Not the -fishing that may be indulged in on Sunday and week-day on fishing -steamers, making excursions to the banks where one may lose an ear on -another angler's far flung hook, but the fly fishing where the gallant -trout has a chance to escape, the highest type of fishing that may -appeal to man. - -And his ambitions to lower his golf handicap until it should be scratch -could not well be accomplished by his weekly visit to Van Cortlandt -Park. He wished to be able to join Garden City or Baltusrol and play a -round a day in fast company. And this could not be accomplished on what -he was making. - -And as to music, he longed to compose an opera. It was a laudable -ambition and would commence, he told himself, with a grand piano. He had -only a hard-mouthed hired upright so far. Sometimes he had seen himself -in the rôle of his hero amply able to indulge himself in his moderate -ambitions. It was of this he had been thinking when Mr. Lund came to his -room. And now the very editor for whom he had created his characters was -making the suggestion. - -"I was only joking," Crosbeigh assured him. - -"It is not a good thing to joke about," Anthony Trent answered, "and an -honest man at forty a week is better than an outlaw with four hundred." - -He made this remark to set his thoughts in less dangerous channels, but -it sounded dreadfully hollow and false. He half expected that Crosbeigh -would laugh aloud at such a hackneyed sentiment, but Crosbeigh looked -grave and earnest. "Very true," he answered. "A man couldn't think of -it." - -"And why not?" Anthony Trent demanded; "would the fictional character I -created do as much harm to humanity as some cotton mill owner who -enslaved little children and gave millions to charity?" - -A telephone call relieved Crosbeigh of the need to answer. Trent swept -into his brief case the carbon copy of his story which he had brought by -mistake. - -"Where are you going?" the editor demanded. - -"Van Cortlandt," the contributor answered; "I'm going to try and get my -drive back. I've been slicing for a month." - -"Conington Warren has a private eighteen-hole course on his Long Island -place," Crosbeigh said with pride. "I've been invited to play." - -"You're bent on driving me to a life of crime," Trent exclaimed -frowning. "An eighteen-hole private course while I struggle to get a -permit for a public one!" - -But Anthony Trent did not play golf that afternoon at Van Cortlandt -Park. As a matter of fact he never again invaded that popular field of -play. - -Outside Crosbeigh's office he was hailed by an old Dartmouth chum, one -Horace Weems. - -"Just in time for lunch," said Weems wringing his hand. Weems had always -admired Anthony Trent and had it been possible would have remodeled -himself physically and mentally in the form of another Trent. Weems was -short, blond and perspired profusely. - -"Hello, Tubby," said Trent without much cordiality, "you look as though -the world had been treating you right." - -"It has," said Weems happily. "Steel went to a hundred and twelve last -week and it carried me up with it." - -Weems had been, as Trent remembered, a bond salesman. Weems could sell -anything. He had an ingratiating manner and a disability to perceive -snubs or insults when intent on making sales. He had paid his way -through college by selling books. Trent had been a frequent victim. - -"What do you want to sell me this time?" he demanded. - -"Nothing," Weems retorted, "I'm going to buy you the best little lunch -that Manhattan has to offer. Anywhere you say and anything you like to -eat and drink." Weems stopped a cruising taxi. "Hop in, old scout, and -tell the pirate where to go." - -Trent directed the man to one of the three famous and more or less -exclusive restaurants New York possesses. - -"I hope you have the price," he commented, "otherwise I shall have to -cash a check I've just received for a story." - -"Keep your old check," jeered Weems, "I'm full of money. Why, boy, I own -an estate and have a twelve-cylinder car of my own." - -Over the luncheon Horace Weems babbled cheerfully. He had made over -three hundred thousand dollars and was on his way to millionairedom. - -"You ought to see my place up in Maine," he said presently. - -"Maine?" queried his guest. It was in Maine that Anthony Trent, were he -fortunate enough, would one day erect a camp. "Where?" - -"On Kennebago lake," Weems told him and stopped when an expression of -pain crossed the other's face. "What's the matter? That sauce wrong?" - -"Just sheer envy," Trent admitted, "you've got what I want. I know every -camp on the Lake. Which is it?" - -"The Stanley place," said Weems. "The finest camp on the whole Lake. I -bought it furnished and it's some furniture believe me. There's a grand -piano--that would please you--and pictures that are worth thousands, one -of 'em by some one named Constable. Ever hear of him?" - -"Yes," Trent grunted, "I have. Fancy you with a Constable and a grand -piano when you don't know one school of painting from another and think -the phonograph the only instrument worth listening to!" - -"I earned it," Weems said, a little huffily. "Why don't you make money -instead of getting mad because I do?" - -"Because I haven't your ability, I suppose," Trent admitted. "It's a -gift and the gods forgot me." - -"Some of the boys used to look down on me," said Weems, "but all I ask -is 'where is little Horace to-day?' This money making game is the only -thing that counts, believe me. Up in Hanover I wasn't one, two, three, -compared with you. Your father was well off and mine hadn't a nickel. -You graduated _magna cum laude_ and I had to work like a horse to slide -by. You were popular because you made the football team and could sing -and play." Weems paused reflectively, "I never did hear any one who -could mimic like you. You should have taken it up and gone into -vaudeville. How much do you make a week?" - -"Forty--with luck." - -"I give that to my chauffeur and I'm not rich yet. But I shall be. I'm -out to be as rich as that fellow over there." - -He pointed to a rather high colored extremely well dressed man about -town to whom the waiters were paying extreme deference. - -"That's Conington Warren," Weems said with admiration in his voice, -"he's worth a million per annum." - -Anthony Trent turned to look at him. There was no doubt that Conington -Warren was a personage. Just now he was engaged in an argument with the -head waiter concerning _Château Y'Quem_. Trent noticed his gesture of -dismissal when he had finished. It was an imperious wave of his hand. It -was his final remark as it were. - -"Some spender," Weems commented. "Who's the funny old dodger with him? -Some other millionaire I suppose." - -"I'll tell him that next time I see him," laughed Trent beholding -Crosbeigh, Crosbeigh who looked wise where vintages were discussed and -knew not one from another. A well-dressed man paused at Warren's side -and Weems, always anxious to acquire information, begged his guest to be -silent. - -"Did you get that?" he asked when the man had moved away. - -"I don't make it a habit to listen to private conversations," Trent -returned stiffly. - -"Well I do," said Weems unabashed. "If I hadn't I shouldn't have got in -on this Steel stuff. I'm a great little listener. That fellow who spoke -is Reginald Camplyn, the man who drives a coach and four and wins blue -ribbons at the horse show. Warren asked him to a dinner here to-morrow -night at half past eight in honor of some horse who's done a fast -trial." Weems made an entry in his engagement book. - -"Are you going, too?" Trent demanded. - -"I'm putting down the plug's name," said Weems, "Sambo," he said. -"That's no name for a thoroughbred. Say couldn't you introduce me?" - -"I don't know him," Trent asserted. - -"You know the man with him. That's enough for me. If you do it right the -other fellow's bound to introduce you. Then you beckon me over and we'll -all sit down together." - -"That isn't my way of doing things," replied Trent with a frown. - -Weems made a gesture of despair and resignation. - -"That's why you'll always be poor. That's why you'll never have a grand -piano and a Constable and a swell place up in Maine." - -Anthony Trent looked at him and smiled. - -"There may be other ways," he said slowly. - -"You try 'em," Weems retorted crossly. "Here you are almost thirty years -old, highly educated, prep school and college and you make a week what I -give my chauffeur." - -"I think I will," Trent answered. - -Weems attacked his salad angrily. If only Trent had been what he termed -aggressive, an introduction could easily have been effected. Then Weems -would have seen to it that he and Warren left the restaurant together. -Some one would be bound to see them. Then, for Weems had an expansive -fancy, it would be rumored that he, Horace Weems, who cleaned up on -Steel, was friendly with the great Conington Warren. It might lead to -anything! - -"Well," he commented, "I'd rather be little Horace Weems, who can't tell -a phonograph from a grand piano than Mr. Anthony Trent, who makes with -luck two thousand a year." - -"I'm in bad company to-day," replied Trent. "First Crosbeigh and now you -tempting me. You know very well I haven't that magic money making -ability you have. My father hadn't it or he would have left money when -he died and not debts." - -"Magic!" Weems snorted. "Common sense, that's what it is." - -"It's magic," the other insisted, "as a boy you exchanged a jack knife -for a fishing pole and the fishing pole for a camera and the camera for -a phonograph and the phonograph for a canoe and the canoe for a sailing -boat and so on till you've got your place in Maine and a chauffeur who -makes more than I do! Magic's the only name for it." - -"You must come up and see me in Maine," Weems said, later. - -"Make your mind easy," Trent assured him, "I will." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -BEGINNING THE GAME - - -WHEN he left Weems, it was too late to start a round of golf so Trent -took his homeward way intent on starting another story. Crosbeigh was -always urging him to turn out more of them. - -His boarding house room seemed shabbier than ever. The rug, which had -never been a good one, showed its age. The steel engravings on the wall -were offensive. "And Weems," he thought, "owns a Constable!" - -His upright piano sounded thinner to his touch. "And Weems," he sighed, -"has been able to buy a grand." - -Up from the kitchen the triumphant smell of a "boiled New England -dinner" sought out every corner of the house. High above all the varied -odors, cabbage was king. The prospect of the dinner table was appalling, -with Mr. Lund, distant and ready to quarrel over any infringement of his -rights or curtailment of his portion. Mrs. Clarke ready to resent any -jest as to her lord's habits. The landlady eager to give battle to such -as sniffed at what her kitchen had to offer. Wearisome banter between -brainless boarders tending mainly to criticism of moving picture -productions and speculations as to the salaries of the stars. Not a soul -there who had ever heard of William Blake or Ravel! Overdressed girls -who were permanently annoyed with Anthony Trent because he would never -take them to ice-cream parlors. Each new boarder as she came set her cap -for him and he remained courteous but disinterested. - -One of the epics of Mrs. Sauer's boarding house was that night when Miss -Margaret Rafferty, incensed at the coldness with which her advances were -received and the jeers of her girl friends, brought as a dinner guest a -former sweetheart, now enthusiastically patrolling city sidewalks as a -guardian of the peace. It was not difficult to inflame McGuire. He -disliked Anthony Trent on sight and exercised an untrammeled wit during -the dinner at his expense. It was afterwards in the little garden where -the men went to smoke an after dinner cigar that the unforgivable phrase -was passed. - -McGuire was just able to walk home. He had met an antagonist who was a -lightning hitter, whose footwork was quick and who boxed admirably and -kept his head. - -After this a greater meed of courtesy was accorded the writer of -stories. But the bibulous Clarke alone amused him, Clarke who had been -city editor of a great daily when Trent was a police reporter on it, and -was now a Park Row derelict supported by the generosity of his old -friends and acquaintances. Only Mrs. Clarke knew that Anthony Trent on -numerous occasions gave her a little money each week until that day in -the Greek kalends when her husband would find another position. - -Anthony Trent settled himself at his typewriter and began looking over -the carbon copy of the story he had just sold to Crosbeigh. He wished -to assure himself of certain details in it. Among the pages was an -envelope with the name of a celebrated Fifth Avenue club embossed upon -it. Written on it in pencil was Crosbeigh's name. Unquestionably he had -swept it from the editorial desk when he had taken up the carbon copy of -his story. - -Opening it he found a note written in a rather cramped and angular hand. -The stationery was of the Fifth Avenue club. The signature was -unmistakable, "Conington Warren." Trent read: - - "My dear Crosbeigh: - - "I am sending this note by Togoyama because I want to be sure that - you will lunch with me at Voisin's to-morrow at one o'clock. I wish - affairs permitted me to see more of my old Yale comrades but I am - enormously busy. By the way, a little friend of mine thinks she can - write. I don't suppose she can, but I promised to show her efforts - to you. I'm no judge but it seems to me her work is very much the - kind you publish in your magazine. We will talk it over to-morrow. - Of course she cares nothing about what you would pay her. She wants - to see her name in print. - - "Yours ever, - - "CONINGTON WARREN." - -Trent picked up an eraser and passed it over the name on the envelope. -It had been written with a soft pencil and was easily swept away. - -Over the body of the letter he spent a long time. He copied it exactly. -A stranger would have sworn that the copy had been written by the same -hand which indited the original. And when this copy had been made to -Trent's satisfaction, he carefully erased everything in the original but -the signature. Then remembering Weems' description of the Conington -Warren camp in the Adirondacks, he wrote a little note to one Togoyama. - -It was five when he had finished. There was no indecision about him. -Twenty minutes later he was at the Public Library consulting a large -volume in which were a hundred of the best known residences in New York. -So conscientious was the writer that there were plans of every floor and -in many instances descriptions of their interior decoration. Anthony -Trent chuckled to think of the difficulties with which the unlettered -crook has to contend. "Chicago Ed. Binner," for example, had married -half a hundred servant maids to obtain information as to the disposition -of rooms that he could have obtained by the mere consultation of such a -book as this. - -It was while Mrs. Sauer's wards were finishing their boiled dinner that -some of them had a glimpse of Anthony Trent in evening dress descending -the stairs. - -"Dinner not good enough for his nibs," commented one boarder seeking to -curry the Sauer favor. - -"I'd rather have my boarders pay and not eat than eat and not pay," said -Mrs. Sauer grimly. It was three weeks since she had received a dollar -from the speaker. - -"Drink," exclaimed Mr. Clarke, suddenly roused from meditation of a day -now dead when a highball could be purchased for fifteen cents. "This -food shortage now. That could be settled easily. Take the tax off -liquor and people wouldn't want to eat so much. It's the high cost of -drinking that's the trouble. What's the use of calling ourselves a free -people? I tell you it was keeping vodka from the Russians that caused -the whole trouble. Don't argue with me. I know." - -Mr. Clarke went from the dinner table to his bed and awoke around -midnight possessed with the seven demons of unsatiated thirst. He -determined to go down and call upon Anthony Trent. He would plead for -enough money to go to the druggist and get his wife's prescription -filled. Trent, good lad that he was, always fell for it. And, he argued, -it was a friendly act to do, this midnight call on a hard working young -writer who had once been at his command. - -For the first time Anthony Trent's door was locked. And the voice that -snapped out an interrogation was different from the leisurely and -amiable invitation to enter which was usual. The door was suddenly flung -open, so sudden that poor Clarke was startled. And facing him, his fists -clenched and a certain tensity of attitude that was a strange one to the -visitor, was Anthony Trent still in evening dress. Clarke construed it -into an expression of resentment at his intrusion. He could not -understand the sudden affability that took possession of his former -reporter. - -"Come in, Mr. Clarke," said Trent cordially. "I am sorry your wife's -heart is troubling her but I agree with you that you should rush with -all haste to the nearby druggist and have that prescription filled. And -as the man who owes you money did not pay you to-day as he promised, but -will without fail to-morrow at midday, take this five dollar bill with -my blessing." - -"How did you know?" gasped Clarke. - -"I am a mind reader," Trent retorted. "It saves time." He led Mr. Clarke -gently to the door. "Now I'm tired and want to go to sleep so don't call -in on your way back with the change. Just trot up to bed as quietly as -you can." - -When the door was locked and a chair-back wedged against the handle, -Trent lowered the shades. Then he cleared his table of the litter of -paper. A half dozen pages of the first draft of his new story held his -attention for a few seconds. Then he deliberately tore the pages into -little fragments, threw them into the waste paper basket. And to this -cenotaph he added the contents of the table drawer, made up of notes for -future stories, the results of weeks of labor. - -"Dust to dust," he murmured, "ashes to ashes!" - -It was the end of the career of Anthony Trent, writer. - -And on the table which had formerly held only writing paper a quaint -miscellany was placed. Eight scarf pins, each holding in golden claws -stones of price. Apparently Conington Warren had about him only what was -good. And there was a heavy platinum ring with a ruby of not less than -four carats, a lady's ring. It would not be difficult for a man so -clever with his hands and apt mechanically to remove these jewels from -their setting. Nor was there any difficulty in melting the precious -metals. - -It seemed to Trent that he had gloated over these glistening stones for -hours before he put them away. - -Then he took out a roll of bills and counted them. Conington Warren, it -seemed, must have had considerable faith in the excellent Togoyama now -hurrying to the Adirondack camp, for he had left three thousand dollars -in the upper left hand drawer of a Sheraton desk. - -Morning was coming down the skies when Trent, now in dressing gown, -lighted his pipe and sat down by the window. - -"Well," he muttered softly, "I've done it and there's no going back. -Yesterday I was what people call an honest man. Now----?" - -He shrugged his shoulders and puffed quickly. Out of the window grey -clouds of smoke rose as fragrant incense. - -He had never meant to take up a career of crime. Looking back he could -see how little things coming together had provoked in him an insatiable -desire for an easier life. In all his personal dealings heretofore, he -had been scrupulously honest, and there had never been any reflection on -his honor as a sportsman. He had played games for their own sake. He had -won without bragging and lost with excuses. Up in Hanover there were -still left those who chanted his praise. What would people think of him -if he were placed in the dock as a criminal? - -His own people were dead. There were distant cousins in Cleveland, whom -he hardly remembered. There was no family honor to trail in the dust, no -mother or sweetheart to blame him for a broken heart. - -He stirred uneasily as he thought of the possibility of capture. Even -now those might be on his trail who would arrest him. It would be -ironical if, before he tasted the fruits of leisure, he were taken to -prison--perhaps by Officer McGuire! It had all been so absurdly easy. -Within a few minutes of receiving the forged note the Japanese was on -his way to the mountains. - -The bishop-like butler who adored his master according to Crosbeigh, had -seemed utterly without suspicion when he passed Trent engaged in -animated converse with his supposed employer. The bad moment was when -the man had come into the library where the intruder was hiding himself -and stood there waiting for an answer to his question. Trent had seen to -it that the light was low. It was a moment of inspiration when he called -to mind Conington Warren's imperious gesture as he waved away Voisin's -head waiter, and another which had made him put on the velvet smoking -jacket. And it had all come out without a hitch. But he was playing a -game now when he could never be certain he was not outguessed. It might -be the suave butler was outside in the shadows guiding police to the -capture. - -He looked out of the window and down the silent street. There was indeed -a man outside and looking up at him. But it was only poor Clarke whose -own prescription had been too well filled. He had captured, so he -fancied, an errant lamppost wantonly disporting itself. - -Anthony Trent looked at him with a relief in which disgust had its part. -He swore, by all the high gods, never to sink to that level. A curious -turn of mind, perhaps, for a burglar to take. But so far the sporting -simile presented itself to him. It was a game, a big game in which he -took bigger risks than any one else. He was going to pit his wit, -strength and knowledge against society as it was organized. - -"I don't see why I can't play it decently," he said to himself as he -climbed into bed. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -ANTHONY PULLS UP STAKES - - -WHEN those two great Australians, Norman Brooks and Anthony Wilding, had -played their brilliant tennis in America, Trent had been a close -follower of their play. He had interviewed them for his paper. In those -days he himself was a respectable performer at the game. Brooks had -given him one of his own rackets which was no longer in first class -condition. It was especially made for the Australian by a firm in -Melbourne. So pleased was Trent with it that he, later, sent to -Australia for two more. It happened that the manager of the sporting -goods store in Melbourne was a young American who believed in the -efficacy of "follow up" letters. It was a large and prosperous firm and -it followed up Anthony Trent with thoroughness. He received square -envelopes addressed by hand by every third Australian mail. - -Mrs. Sauer's boarders, being of that kind which interests itself in -others' affairs and discusses them, were intrigued at these frequent -missives from the Antipodes. - -Finally Trent invented an Uncle Samuel who had, so he affirmed, left his -native land when an adventurous child of nine and made a great fortune -among the Calgoorlie gold fields. Possessing a nimble wit he related to -his fellow boarders amazing accounts of his uncle's activities. The -boarders often discussed this uncle, his strange dislike of women, the -beard which fell to his knees, the team of racing kangaroos which drew -his buggy, and so forth. - -At the breakfast table on the morning when Anthony Trent faced his world -no longer an honest man, it was observed that he was disinclined to -talk. As a matter of fact he wanted a reasonable excuse for leaving the -Sauer establishment. The woman had been kind and considerate to him and -he had few grievances. - -The mail brought him an enticing letter from Melbourne offering him all -that the tennis player needs, at special prices. - -"I trust your uncle is well," Mrs. Clarke observed. - -It was in that moment Trent got his inspiration. - -"I'm afraid he is very ill," he said sadly, "at his age--he must be -almost ninety----" - -"Only eighty-four," Mrs. Clarke reminded him. She remembered the year of -his emigration. - -"Eighty-four is a great age to attain," he declared, "and he has lived -not wisely but well. I feel I should go out and see if there's anything -I can do." - -"You are going to leave us?" gasped Mrs. Sauer. His going would deprive -her of a most satisfactory lodger. - -"I'm afraid my duty is plain," he returned gravely. - -Thus he left Mrs. Sauer's establishment. Years later he wondered whether -if he had enjoyed better cooking he would have fallen from grace, and if -he could not with justice blame a New England boiled dinner for his -lapse. - -For a few days he stayed at a quiet hotel. He wanted a small apartment -on Central Park. There were reasons for this. First, he must live alone -in a house where no officious elevator boys observed his going and his -coming. Central Park West offered many such houses. And if it should -happen that he ever had to flee from the pursuit of those who guarded -the mansions that faced him on the park's eastern side, there was no -safer way home than across the silent grass. He was one of those New -Yorkers who know their Central Park. There had been a season when a -friend gave him the use of a saddle horse and there was no bridle path -that he did not know. - -He was fortunate in finding rooms at the top of a fine old brownstone -house in the eighties. There were four large rooms all overlooking the -Park. That he was compelled to climb five flights of stairs was no -objection in his eyes. A little door to the left of his own entrance -gave admission to a ladder leading to the roof. None of the other -tenants, so the agent informed him, ever used it. Anthony Trent was -relieved to hear it. - -"I sleep badly," he said, "possibly because I read a great deal and am -anxious to try open air sleeping. If I might have the right to use the -roof for that I should be very willing to pay extra." - -"Glad to have you there," said the agent heartily, "you'll be a sort of -night watchman for the property." He laughed at his jest. "Insomnia is -plain hell, ain't it? I used to suffer that way. I walk a great deal now -and that cures me. Do you take drugs?" - -"I'm afraid of them," Anthony Trent declared. "I walk a good deal at -night when the streets are quiet." - -The agent reported to his office that Trent was a studious man who slept -badly and wanted to sleep on the roof; also that he took long tramps at -night. A good tenant, in fine. Thus he spread abroad the report which -Trent desired. - -The selection of a housekeeper was of extreme importance. She must be an -elderly, quiet body without callers or city relatives. Her references -must be examined thoroughly. He interviewed a score of women before he -found what he wanted. She was a Mrs. Phoebe Kinney from Agawam, a -village overlooking Buzzard's Bay. A widow, childless and friendless, -she had occupied similar positions in Massachusetts but this would be -the first one in New York. He observed in his talk with her that she -conceived the metropolis to be the world center of wickedness. She -assured her future employer that she kept herself to herself because she -could never be certain that the man or woman who addressed a friendly -remark to her might not be a criminal. - -"Keep that attitude and we two shall agree splendidly," he said. "I have -few friends and no callers. I am of a studious disposition and cannot -bear interruptions. If you had friends in New York I should not hire -you. I sometimes keep irregular hours but I shall expect to find you -there all the time. You can have two weeks in the summer if you want -them." - -Next day Mrs. Kinney was inducted to her new home. It was a happy choice -for she cooked well and had the New England passion for cleanliness. -Trent noticed with pleasure that she was even suspicious of the -tradespeople who sent their wares up the dumb waiter. And she -discouraged their gossip who sold meat and bread to her. The many papers -he took were searched for their crimes by Mrs. Kinney. Discovery of such -records affirmed her in her belief of the city's depravity. - -In his examination of her former positions Trent discovered that she had -been housekeeper to the Clent Bulstrodes. He knew they were a fine, old -Boston family of Back Bay, with a mansion on Beacon street. When he -questioned her about it she told him it was as housekeeper of their -summer home on Buzzards' Bay. Young Graham Bulstrode had been a tennis -player of note years before. Many a time Anthony Trent had seen him at -Longwood. He had dropped out because he drank too much to keep fit. The -two were of an age. Mrs. Kinney related the history of the Bulstrode -family at length and concluded by remarking that when she first saw her -employer at the agency she was reminded of Mr. Graham. "But he looks -terrible now," she added, "they say he drinks brandy before breakfast!" - -The next day the society columns of the _Herald_ informed him that the -Clent Bulstrodes had bought a New York residence in East 73d street, -just off the Avenue. This information was of peculiar interest to Trent. -Now he was definitely engaged in a precarious profession he was -determined to make a success of it. He had smoked innumerable pipes in -tabulating those accidents which brought most criminals to sentence. He -believed in the majority of cases they had not the address to get away -with plausible excuses. It was an ancient and frayed excuse, that of -pretending to be sent to read the water or electric meter. And besides, -it was not Trent's intention to take to disguises of this sort. - -He was now engaged in working out the solution of his second adventure. -He was to make an attempt upon the house of William Drummond, banker, -who lived in 93rd street and in the same number as did the Clent -Bulstrodes, twenty blocks to the south. He had learned a great deal -about Drummond from Clarke, his one-time city editor. Clarke remembered -most of the interesting things about the big men of his day. He told -Trent that Drummond invariably carried a great deal of money on his -person. He expatiated on the Drummond history. This William Drummond had -begun life on an Iowa farm. He had gradually saved a little money and -then lent it at extravagant interest. Later he specialized on mortgages, -foreclosing directly he knew his client unable to meet his notes. His -type was a familiar one and had founded many fortunes. Clarke painted -him as a singularly detestable creature. - -"But why," demanded Anthony Trent, "does a man like that risk his money -if he's so keen on conserving it? One would think he wouldn't take out -more than his car fare for fearing either of being robbed or borrowed -from." - -"As for robbing," Clarke returned, "he's a great husky beast although -he's nearly sixty. And as to being borrowed from, that's why he takes it -out. He belongs to a lot of clubs--not the Knickerbocker type--but the -sort of clubs where rich young fellows go to play poker. They know old -Drummond can lend 'em the ready cash without any formalities any time -they wish it. Ever sit in a poker game, son, and get a hunch that if -you were able to buy just one more pile of chips you'd clean up?" - -"I have," said the other smiling, "but my hunch has generally been -wrong." - -"Most hunches are," Clarke commented. "Theirs are, too, but that old -scoundrel makes thousands out of just such hunches. He puts it up to the -borrower that it's between club members and so forth, not a money -lending transaction. Tells 'em he doesn't lend money as a rule, and so -forth and so on. I know he was asked to resign from one club for it. -He's a bloodsucker and if I had an automobile I'd watch for him to cross -the street and then run him down." - -"Has he ever stung you?" Trent asked. - -"Me? Not on your life. He specializes in rich men's sons. He wouldn't -lend you or me a nickel if we were starving. You remember young Hodgson -Grant who committed suicide last year. They said it was the heat that -got him. It was William Drummond." - -"Why does he keep up a house on such a street as he does? I should think -he'd live cheaper." - -"A young second wife. Threw the old one away, so to speak, and got a -high stepper that makes him speed up. She thinks she will get into -society. Not a chance, son, not a chance. I know." - -It was on some of William Drummond's money that Anthony Trent had set -his heart. It salved what was still a conscience to know that he was -taking back profits unlawfully made, bleeding a blood sucker. - -Owing to the second Mrs. Drummond's desire to storm society she -cultivated publicity. There were pictures of herself and her prize -winning Red Chows in dog papers. In other magazines she was seen -driving her two high stepping hackneys, Lord Ping and Lady Pong, at the -Mineola Horse Show. Also, there was an article on her home in a magazine -devoted to interior decoration. A careful study of it answered every -question concerning its lay-out that the most careful cracksman needed -to know. Trent spent a week in learning how Drummond occupied his time. -The banker invariably left his most profitable club at midnight, never -earlier. By half past twelve he was in his library smoking one of the -cigars that had been given him that night. Then a drink of gin and -water. Afterwards, bed. The house was protected by the Sherlock system -of burglar alarm, a tiresome invention to those who were ignorant of it. -Anthony Trent regarded it as an enemy and had mastered it successfully -for there were tricks of lock opening not hard to one as mechanically -able as he and many a criminal had talked to him openly when he had -covered police headquarters years before. - -Drummond drank very little. When asked he invariably took a cigar. He -was possessed of great strength and still patronized the club gymnasium. -For two hours one night Drummond sat near him at a certain famous -athletic club. On that night there were certain changes to be observed -in the appearance of Anthony Trent. He seemed to have put on twenty -pounds in weight and ten years in age. The art of make-up which had been -forced upon him in college theatricals had recently engaged his -attention. It was an art of which he had thought little until for his -paper he had once interviewed Beerbohm Tree and had seen the amazing -changes skilful make-up may create. - -Ordinarily he slipped in and out silently, not encouraging Mrs. Kinney -to talk. On this particular night he asked her a question concerning a -missing letter and she came out into the lighted hall. - -"You gave me quite a shock," she said. "You look as like Mr. Graham -Bulstrode as one pea is like another, although I've never seen him in -full evening dress." - -She was plainly impressed by her employer's magnificence although she -feared this unusual flush on his ordinarily pale face meant that he had -been having more to drink than was good for him. - -It was the tribute for which Trent had waited. If Mrs. Kinney had never -seen the son of her former master in the garb of fashion, her present -employer had, and that within the week. And he had observed him -carefully. He had seen that Bulstrode was wearing during the nights of -late Autumn an Inverness cape of light-weight black cloth, lined with -white silk. To Trent it seemed rather stagey but that did not prevent -him from ordering its duplicate from Bulstrode's tailor. Bulstrode clung -to the opera hat rather than to the silk hat which has almost superseded -it. To-night Trent wore an opera hat. - -Bulstrode came into the athletic club at half past eleven. He was -slightly under the influence of liquor and his face no redder than that -of Trent who waited across the street in the shadow of the Park wall. No -sooner had Bulstrode been whirled off in a taxi than Anthony Trent went -into the club. To the attendants it seemed that he had returned for -something forgotten. With his Inverness still on and his hat folded he -lost himself in the crowded rooms and found at last William Drummond. -The banker nodded cordially. It was evident to the impostor that the -banker wished to ingratiate himself with the new member. The Bulstrodes -had enormous wealth and a name that was recognized. To his greeting -Anthony Trent returned a solemn owl-like stare. "Shylock!" he hiccoughed -insolently. - -Drummond flushed but said nothing. Indeed he looked about him to see if -the insult had been overheard by any other member. Inwardly Trent -chuckled. He had now no fear of being discovered. Bulstrode probably -knew few men at the club. He had not been in town as a resident for a -month yet. He sank into a chair and read an evening paper watching in -reality the man Drummond. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -FOOLING SHYLOCK DRUMMOND - - -THE night that he entered Drummond's house was slightly foggy and -visibility was low. He was dressed as he had been when he encountered -Drummond at the club. He had seen the banker climb the five steps to his -front door at half past twelve. At half past one the lights were -switched off in the bedroom on the second floor. At two the door gently -opened and admitted Anthony Trent. He left it unlocked and ready for -flight. And he memorized the position of the furniture so that hasty -flight would be possible. - -It was not a big house. The articles of furniture, the pictures, rugs -and hangings were splendid. The interior decorators had taken care of -that. But he had seen them all in the magazine. Trent knew very well -that to obtain such prizes as he sought could not be a matter of -certainty. Somewhere in this house was a lot of currency. And it might -be in a safe. Old fashioned safes presented few difficulties, but your -modern strong box is a different matter. Criminal investigator as he -was, he knew one man seldom attempted to dynamite a safe. It was a -matter for several men. In itself the technique was not difficult but he -had no accomplices and at best it is a matter better fitted for offices -in the night silences than a private residence. - -He had been told by criminals that it was astonishing how careless rich -men were with their money. Anthony Trent proposed to test this. He had -made only a noiseless progress on a half dozen stairs on his upward -flight when a door suddenly opened, flooding the stairway with light. It -was from a room above him. And there were steps coming along a corridor -toward him. Feeling certain that the reception rooms leading off the -entrance hall were empty, he swiftly opened a door and stepped backward -into the room, watching intently to see that he had escaped the -observation of some one descending the staircase. - -From the frying pan's discomfort to the greater dangers of the fire was -what he had done for himself. He found himself in a long room at one end -of which he stood, swearing under breath at what he saw. At the other -Mr. William Drummond was seated at a table. And Mr. Drummond held in his -hand an ugly automatic of .38 calibre. Covering him with the weapon the -banker came swiftly toward him. It was the unexpected moment for which -Anthony Trent was prepared. Assuming the demeanor of the drunken man he -peered into the elder man's face. He betrayed no fear of the pistol. His -speech was thickened, but he was reasonably coherent. - -"It is old Drummond, isn't it?" he demanded. - -"What are you doing here?" the other snapped, and then gave a start when -he saw to whom he spoke. "Mr. Bulstrode!" - -"I've come," said the other swaying slightly, "to tell you I'm sorry. I -don't know why I said it but the other fellers said it wasn't right. -I've come to shake your hand." He caught sight of the weapon. "Put that -damn thing down, Drummond." - -Obediently the banker slipped it into the pocket of his dressing gown. -He followed the swaying man as he walked toward the lighted part of the -room. He was frankly amazed. Wild as he was, and drunken as was his -evening custom, why had this heir to the Bulstrode millions entered his -house like a thief in the night? And for what was he sorry? - -In a chair by the side of the desk Anthony Trent flung himself. He -wanted particularly to see what the banker had hidden with a swift -motion as he had risen. The yellow end of some notes of high -denomination caught his eye. Right on the table was what he sought. The -only method of getting it would be to overpower Drummond. There were -objections to this. The banker was armed and would certainly shoot. Or -there might be a terrific physical encounter in which the younger man -might kill unintentionally. And an end in the electric chair was no part -of Trent's scheme of things. Also, there was some one else awake in the -house. - -Drummond resumed his seat and the watcher saw him with elaborate -unconcern slide an evening paper over the partially concealed notes. - -"Just what is on your mind, Mr. Bulstrode?" he began. - -"I called you 'Shylock,'" Trent returned. "No right to have said it. -What I should have said was, 'Come and have a drink.' Been ashamed of -myself ever since." - -Drummond looked at him fixedly. It was a calculating glance and a cold -one. And there was the contempt in it that a sober man has for one far -gone in drink. - -"And do you usually break into a man's house when you want to -apologize?" There was almost a sneer in his voice. - -"Break in?" retorted the other, apparently slow at comprehending him, -"the damn door wasn't locked. Any one could get in. Burglars could break -through and steal. Most foolish. I lock my door every night. All -sensible people do. Surprised at you." - -"We'll see about that," said Drummond. He took a grip on his visitor's -arm and led him through the hall to the door. It was unlocked and the -burglar alarm system disconnected. It was not the first time that -Drummond's man had forgotten it. In the morning he would be dismissed. -Apparently this irresponsible young ass had got the idea in his stupid -head that he had acted offensively and had calmly walked in. It was the -opportunity for the banker to cultivate him. - -"As I came in," Trent told him, "some one was coming down the stairs. -Better see who it was." - -Drummond looked at him suspiciously. Trent knew that he was not yet -satisfied that his visitor's story was worthy of belief. Then he spoke -as one who humors a child. - -"We'll go and find out." - -Outside the door they came upon an elderly woman servant with a silver -tray in her hands. - -"Madame," she explained, "was not able to eat any luncheon or dinner and -has waked up hungry." - -Drummond raised the cover of a porcelain dish. - -"Caviare sandwiches," he grunted, "bad things to sleep on." - -He led the way back to the room. In his scheming mind was a vague scheme -to use this bêtise of Graham Bulstrode as a means to win his wife social -advancement. Mrs. Clent Bulstrode could do it. Money would not buy -recognition from her. Perhaps fear of exposure might. He glanced with -contempt at the huddled figure of the heir to Bulstrode millions. The -young man was too much intoxicated to offer any resistance. - -Tall, huge and menacing he stood over Anthony Trent. There was a look in -his eye that caused a certain uneasiness in the impostor's mind. In -another age and under different conditions Drummond would have been a -pirate. - -"If it had been any other house than mine," he began, "and you had not -been a fellow clubman an unexpected call like this might look a little -difficult of explanation." - -Anthony Trent acted his part superbly. Drunkenness in others had always -interested him. Drummond watching his vacuous face saw the inebriated -man's groping for a meaning admirably portrayed. - -"What do yer mean?" - -"Simply this," said Drummond distinctly. "At a time when I am supposed -to be in bed you creep into my house without knocking or ringing. You -come straight into a room where very valuable property is. While I -personally believe your story I doubt whether the police would. They are -taught to be suspicious. There would be a lot of scandal. Your mother, -for instance, would be upset. New York papers revel in that sort of -thing. You have suppressed news in Boston papers but that doesn't go -here." He nodded his head impressively. "I wouldn't like to wager that -the police would be convinced. In fact it might take a lot of publicity -before you satisfied the New York police." - -The idea seemed to amuse the younger man. - -"Let's call 'em up and see," he suggested and made a lurching step -toward the phone. - -"No, no," the other exclaimed hastily, "I wouldn't have that happen for -the world." - -Over his visitor's face Drummond could see a look of laboring -comprehension gradually stealing. It was succeeded by a frown. An idea -had been born which was soon to flower in high and righteous anger. - -"You're a damned old blackmailer!" cried Anthony Trent, struggling to -his feet. "When a gentleman comes to apologize you call him a robber. -I'm going home." - -Drummond stood over him threatening and powerful. - -"I don't know that I shall let you," he said unpleasantly. "Why should -I? You are so drunk that in the morning you won't remember a word I've -said to you. I'm going to make use of you, you young whelp. You've -delivered yourself into my hands. If I were to shoot you for a burglar I -should only get commended for it." - -"Like hell you would," Trent chuckled, "that old girl with the caviare -sandwiches would tell the jury we were conversing amiably. You'd swing -for it, Drummond, old dear, and I'd come to see your melancholy end." - -"And there's another thing," Drummond reminded him, "you've got a bad -record. Your father didn't give up the Somerset Club because he liked -the New York ones any better. They wanted to get you away from certain -influences there. I've got your whole history." - -"Haven't you anything to drink?" Anthony Trent demanded. - -From a cupboard in his black walnut desk Drummond took a large silver -flask. He did not want his guest to become too sober. Since it was the -first drink that Anthony Trent had taken that night he gulped eagerly. - -"Good old Henessey!" he murmured. "Henessey's a gentleman," he added -pointedly. - -"Look here," said Drummond presently after deep thought. "You've got to -go home. I'm told there's a butler who fetches you from any low dive you -may happen to be." - -"He hates it," Trent chuckled. "He's a prohibitionist. I made him one." - -Drummond came over to him and looked him clear in the eye. - -"What's your telephone number?" he snapped. - -Trent was too careful a craftsman to be caught like that. He flung the -Bulstrode number back in a flash. "Ring him up," he commanded, "there's -a direct wire to his room after twelve." - -"What's his name?" Drummond asked. - -"Old Man Afraid of His Wife," he was told. Mrs. Kinney had told him of -the nickname young Bulstrode had given the butler. - -Drummond flushed angrily. "His real name? I'm not joking." - -"Nor am I," Trent observed, "I always call him that." He put on an -expression of obstinacy. "That's all I'll tell you. Give me the phone -and let me talk." - -It was a bad moment for Anthony Trent. It was probable that William -Drummond was going to call up the Bulstrode residence to make certain -that his visitor was indeed Graham Bulstrode. And if the butler were to -inform him that the heir already snored in his own bed there must come -the sudden physical struggle. And Drummond was armed. He had not failed -to observe that the door to the entrance hall was locked. When Drummond -had spoken to the servant outside he had taken this precaution. For a -moment Trent entertained the idea of springing at the banker as he stood -irresolutely with the telephone in his hand. But he abandoned it. That -would be to bring things to a head. And to wait might bring safety. - -But he was sufficiently sure of himself to be amused when he heard -Drummond hesitatingly ask if he were speaking to Old Man Afraid of His -Wife. The banker hastily disclaimed any intention of being offensive. - -"Mr. Graham Bulstrode is with me," he informed the listener, "and that -is the only name he would give. I am particularly anxious that you -inform his father I am bringing him home. Also," his voice sank to a -whisper, "I must speak to Mr. Bulstrode when I come. I shall be there -within half an hour. He will be sorry all his days if he refuses to see -me." As he hung up the instrument he noted with pleasure that young -Bulstrode was conversing amicably with his old friend Henessey, whose -brandy is famous. - -Drummond had mapped it all out. He would not stay to dress. Over his -dressing gown he would pull an automobile duster as though he had been -suddenly disturbed. He would accuse Graham of breaking in to steal. He -would remind the chastened father of several Boston scandals. He could -see the Back Bay blue blood beg for mercy. And the end of it would be -that in the society columns of the New York dailies it would be -announced that Mr. and Mrs. William Drummond had dined with Mr. and Mrs. -Clent Bulstrode. - -No taxi was in sight when they came down the steps to the silent street. -Drummond was in an amazing good humor. His captor was now reduced -through his friendship with Henessey to a silent phase of his failing. -He clung tightly to the banker's stalwart arm and only twice attempted -to break into song. Since the distance was not great the two walked. -Trent looked anxiously at every man they met when they neared the -Bulstrode mansion. He feared to meet a man of his own build wearing a -silk lined Inverness cape. It may be wondered why Anthony Trent, fleet -of foot and in the shadow of the park across which his modest apartment -lay, did not trip up the banker and make his easy escape. The answer -lies in the fact that Trent was not an ordinary breaker of the law. And -also that he had conceived a very real dislike to William Drummond, his -person, his character and his aspirations. He was determined that -Drummond should ride for a fall. - -A tired looking man yawning from lack of sleep let them into the house. -It was a residence twice the size of Drummond's. The banker peered about -the vast hall, gloomy in the darkness. In fancy he could see Mrs. -Drummond sweeping through it on her way to dinner. - -"Mr. Bulstrode is in the library," he said acidly. That another should -dare to use a nickname that fitted him so aptly filled him with -indignation. He barely glanced at the man noisily climbing the stairs to -his bedroom, the man who had coined the opprobrious phrase. Drummond was -ushered into the presence of Clent Bulstrode. - -The Bostonian was a tall man with a cold face and a great opinion of his -social responsibilities. The only New Yorkers he cared to know were -those after whose families downtown streets had been named. - -"I am not in the habit, sir," he began icily, "of being summoned from my -bed at this time of night to talk to a stranger. I don't like it, Mr. -Dummles----" - -"Drummond," his visitor corrected. - -"The same thing," cried Bulstrode. "I know no one bearing either name. I -can only hope your errand is justified. I am informed it has to do with -my son." - -"You know it has," Drummond retorted. "He broke into my house to-night. -And he came, curiously enough, at a time when there was a deal of loose -cash in my room. Mr. Bulstrode, has he done that before? If he has I'm -afraid he could get into trouble if I informed the police." - -It was a triumphant moment when he saw a look of fear pass over -Bulstrode's contemptuous countenance. It was a notable hit. - -"You wouldn't do that?" he cried. - -"That depends," Drummond answered. - -Upon what it depended Clent Bulstrode never knew for there came the -noise of an automobile stopping outside the door. There was a honking of -the horn and the confused sound of many voices talking at once. - -Drummond followed the Bostonian through the great hall to the open door. -They could see Old Man Afraid of His Wife assisting a young inebriate in -evening dress. And his Inverness cape was lined with white silk and over -his eyes an opera hat was pulled. - -The chauffeur alone was sober. He touched his hat when he saw Mr. -Bulstrode. - -"Where have you come from?" he demanded. - -"I took the gentlemen to New Haven," he said. - -"Has my son been with you all the evening?" - -"Yes, sir," the chauffeur returned. - -Drummond, his hopes dashed, followed Bulstrode to the library. "Now," -said the clubman sneering, "I shall be glad to hear your explanation of -your slander of my son. In the morning I can promise you my lawyers will -attend to it in detail." - -"I was deceived," the wretched Drummond sought to explain. "A man -dressed like your son whom I know by sight came in and----" - -He went through the whole business. By this time the butler was standing -at the open door listening. - -"I can only say," Mr. Bulstrode remarked, "that these excuses you offer -so glibly will be investigated." - -"Excuses!" cried the other goaded to anger. "Excuses! I'll have you know -that a father with a son like yours is more in need of excuses than I -am." - -He turned his head to see the butler entering the room. There was an -unpleasant expression on the man's face which left him vaguely uneasy. - -"Show this person out," said Bulstrode in his most forbidding manner. - -"Wait a minute," Drummond commanded, "you owe it to me to have this -house searched. We all saw that impostor go upstairs. For all we know -he's in hiding this very minute." - -"You needn't worry," Old Man Afraid of His Wife observed. "He went out -just before Mr. Graham came back in the motor. I was going to see what -it was when the car came between us." The man turned to Clent Bulstrode. -"It's my belief, sir, they're accomplices." - -"What makes you say that?" demanded his master. He could see an unusual -expression of triumph in the butler's eye. - -"The black pearl stick pin that Mr. Graham values so much has been -stolen from his room." - -"What have I to do with that?" Drummond shouted. - -"Simply this," the other returned, "that you introduced this criminal to -my house and I shall expect you to make good what your friend took." - -"Friend!" repeated the outraged Drummond. "My friend!" - -"It is a matter for the police," Bulstrode yawned. - -Drummond watched his tall, thin figure ascending the stairs. Plainly -there was nothing left but to go. Never in his full life had things -broken so badly for William Drummond. He could feel the butler's baleful -stare as he slowly crossed the great hall. He felt he hated the man who -had witnessed his defeat and laughed at his humiliation. And Drummond -was not used to the contempt of underlings. - -Yet the butler had the last word. As he closed the door he flung a -contemptuous good-night after the banker. - -"Good-night," he said, "Old Man Afraid of the Police." - - * * * * * - -A broken and dispirited man William Drummond, banker, came to his own -house. The pockets in which he had placed his keys were empty. There was -no hole by which they might have been lost and he had not removed the -long duster. Only one man could have taken them. He called to mind how -the staggering creature who claimed to be Graham Bulstrode had again and -again clutched at him for support. And if he had taken them, to what use -had they been put? - -It seemed he must have waited half an hour before a sleepy servant let -him in. Drummond pushed by him with an oath and went hastily to the -black walnut desk. There, seemingly unmoved, was the paper that he had -pulled over the notes when the unknown came into the room. It was when -he raised it to see what lay beneath that he understood to the full what -a costly night it had been for him. Across one of his own envelopes was -scrawled the single word--Shylock. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE DANGER OF SENTIMENT - - -AFTER leaving Drummond's house Anthony Trent started without intemperate -haste for his comfortable apartment. In accordance with his -instructions, Mrs. Kinney retired not later than ten. There might come a -night when he needed to prove the alibi that she could unconsciously -nullify if she waited up for him. - -In these early days of his career he was not much in fear of detection -and approached his door with little of the trepidation he was to -experience later when his name was unknown still but his reputation -exceedingly high with the police. Later he knew he must arrange his mode -of life with greater care. - -New York, for example, is not an easy city for a man fleeing from police -pursuit. Its brilliant lighting, its sleeplessness, the rectangular -blocks and absence of helpful back alleys, all these were aids to the -law abiding. - -He had not chosen his location heedlessly. From the roof on which he -often slept he could see five feet distant from its boundary, the wall -that circumscribed the top of another house such as his but having its -entrance on a side street. It would not be hard to get a key to fit the -front door; and since he would make use of it infrequently and then only -late at night there was little risk of detection. - -Thinking several moves ahead of his game was one of Trent's means to -insure success. He must have some plausible excuse in case he were -caught upon the roof. The excuse that suggested itself instantly was a -cat. He bought a large and frolicsome cat, tiger-striped and a stealthy -hunter by night, and introduced him to Mrs. Kinney. That excellent woman -was not pleased. A cat, she asserted, needed a garden. "Exactly," agreed -her employer, "a roof garden." So it was that Agrippa joined the -household and sought to prey upon twittering sparrows. And since Agrippa -looking seventy feet below was not in fear of falling, he leaped the -intermediate distance between the roofs and was rewarded with a sparrow. -Thereafter he used what roof offered the best hunting. - -Two maiden ladies occupied the topmost flat, the Misses Sawyer, and were -startled one evening at a knock upon their door. An affable young -gentleman begged permission to retrieve his cat from their roof. The -hunting Agrippa had sprung the dreadful space and feared, he asserted -plausibly, to get back. - -The Misses Sawyer loved cats, it seemed, but had none now, fearing to -seem disloyal to the memory of a peerless beast about whom they could -not talk without tear-flooded eyes. They told their neighbor cordially -that whenever Agrippa strayed again he was to make free of the roof. - -"Ring our bell," said one of them, "and we'll let you in." - -"But how did you get in?" the other sister demanded, suddenly. - -"The door was open," he said blandly. - -"That's that dreadful Mr. Dietz again," they cried in unison. "He -drinks, and when he goes out to the saloon, he puts the catch back so -there won't be the bother of a key. I have complained but the janitor -takes no notice. I suppose we don't offer him cigars and tips, so he -takes the part of Dietz." - -By this simple maneuver Anthony Trent established his right to use the -roof without incurring suspicion. - -The Drummond loot proved not to be despised by one anxious to put a -hundred thousand dollars to his credit. The actual amount was three -thousand, eight hundred dollars. Furthermore, there was some of the -Drummond stationery, a bundle of letters and the two or three things he -had taken hastily from young Bulstrode's room. He regretted there had -been so small an opportunity to investigate the Bulstrode mansion but -time had too great a value for him. The black pearl had flung itself at -him, and some yale keys and assorted club stationery--these were all he -could take. The stationery might prove useful. He had discovered that -fact in the Conington Warren affair. If it had not been that the butler -crept out of the dark hall to watch him as he left the Bulstrode house, -he would have tried the keys on the hall door. That could be done later. -It is not every rich house which is guarded by burglar resisting -devices. - -It was the bundle of letters and I. O. U.'s that he examined with -peculiar care. They were enclosed in a long, blue envelope on which was -written "Private and Personal." - -When Trent had read them all he whistled. - -"These will be worth ten times his measly thirty-eight hundred," he said -softly. - -But there was no thought of blackmail in his mind. That was a crime at -which he still wholesomely rebelled. It occurred to him sometimes that a -life such as his tended to lead to progressive deterioration. That there -might come a time when he would no longer feel bitterly toward -blackmailers. It was part of his punishment, this dismal thought of what -might be unless he reverted to the ways of honest men. Inasmuch as a man -may play a crooked game decently, so Anthony Trent determined to play -it. - -Many of the letters in the blue envelope were from women whose names -were easily within the ken of one who studied the society columns of the -metropolitan dailies. Most of them seemed to have been the victims of -misplaced bets at Belmont Park or rash bidding at Auction. There was one -letter from the wife of a high official at Washington begging him on no -account to let her husband know she had borrowed money from him. A -prominent society golfing girl whose play Trent had a score of times -admired for its pluck and skill had borrowed a thousand dollars from -Drummond. There was her I. O. U. on the table. Scrawling a line on -Drummond stationery in what seemed to be Drummond handwriting, Anthony -Trent sent it back to her. There were acknowledgments of borrowings from -the same kind of rich waster that Graham Bulstrode represented. A score -of prominent persons would have slept the better for knowing that their -I. O. U.'s had passed from Drummond's keeping. The man was more of a -usurer than banker. - -What interested Anthony Trent most of all was a collection of letters -signed "N.G." and written on the stationery of a very exclusive club. -It was a club to which Drummond did not belong. - -The first letter was merely a request that Drummond meet the writer in -the library of the athletic club where Anthony Trent had seen him. - -The second was longer and spelled a deeper distress. - -"It's impossible in a case like this," wrote "N.G.," "to get any man I -know well to endorse my note. If I could afford to let all the world -into my secret, I should not have come to you. You know very well that -as I am the only son your money is safe enough. I must pay this girl -fifty thousand dollars or let my father know all about it. He would be -angry enough to send me to some god-forsaken ranch to cut wild oats." - -The third letter was still more insistent. The writer was obviously -afraid that he would have to beg the money from his father. - -"I have always understood," he wrote, "that you would lend any amount on -reasonable security. I want only fifty thousand dollars but I've got to -have it at once. It's quite beyond my mother's power to get it for me -this time. I've been to that source too often and the old man is on to -it. E.G. insists that the money in cash must be paid to her on the -morning of the 18th when she will call at the house with her lawyer. I -am to receive my letters back and she will leave New York. Let me know -instantly." - -The next letter indicated that William Drummond had decided to lend -"N.G." the amount but that his offer came too late. - -"I wish you had made up your mind sooner," said "N.G." "It would have -saved me the devil of a lot of worry and you could have made money out -of it. As it is my father learned of it somehow. He talked about the -family honor as usual. But the result is that when she and her lawyer -call at ten on Thursday morning the money will be there. No check for -her; she's far too clever, but fifty thousand in crisp new notes. As for -me, I'm to reform. That means I have to go down town every morning at -nine and work in my father's brokerage business. Can you imagine me -doing that? I blame you for it, Drummond. You are too cautious by a damn -sight to please me." - -Anthony Trent was thus put into possession of the following facts. That -a rich man's son, initials only known, had got into some sort of a -scrape with a girl, initials were E.G., who demanded fifty thousand -dollars in cash which was to be paid at the residence of the young man's -father. The date set was Thursday the eighteenth. It was now the early -morning of Tuesday the sixteenth. - -Trent had lists of the members of all the best clubs. He went through -the one on whose paper N.G. had written. There were several members with -those initials. Careful elimination left him with only one likely name, -that of Norton Guestwick. Norton Guestwick was the only son and heir of -a very rich broker. The elder Guestwick posed as a musical critic, had a -box in the Golden Horseshoe and patronized such opera singers as -permitted it. Many a time Anthony Trent had gazed on the Guestwick -family seated in their compelling box from the modest seat that was his. -Guestwick had even written a book, "Operas I Have Seen," which might be -found in most public libraries. It was an elaborately illustrated tome -which reflected his shortcomings as a critic no less than his vanity as -an author. A collector of musical books, Trent remembered buying it with -high hopes and being disgusted at its smug ineffectiveness. - -He had seldom seen Norton in the family box but the girls were seldom -absent. They, too, upheld the Arts. Long ago he had conceived a dislike -for Guestwick. He hated men who beat what they thought was time to music -whose composers had other ideas of it. - -Turning up a recent file of _Gotham Gossip_ he came upon a reference to -the Guestwick heir. "We understand," said this waspish, but usually -veracious weekly, "that Norton Guestwick's attention to pretty Estelle -Grandcourt (née Sadie Cort) has much perturbed his aristocratic parents -who wish him to marry a snug fortune and a girl suited to be their -daughter-in-law. It is not violating a confidence to say that the lady -in question occupies a mansion on Commonwealth avenue and is one of the -most popular girls in Boston's smart set." - -While many commentators will puzzle themselves over the identity of the -dark lady of the immortal sonnets, few could have failed to perceive -that E.G. was almost certain to be Estelle Grandcourt. Sundry tests of a -confirmatory nature proved it without doubt. He had thus two days in -which to make his preparations to annex the fifty thousand dollars. -There were difficulties. In these early days of his adventuring Anthony -Trent made no use of disguises. He had so far been but himself. Vaguely -he admitted that he must sooner or later come to veiling his identity. -For the present exploit it was necessary that he should find out the -name of the Guestwick butler. - -He might have to get particulars from Clarke. But even Clarke's help -could not now be called in and it was upon this seemingly unimportant -thing that his plan hinged. In a disguise such as many celebrated -cracksmen had used, he might have gained a kitchen door and learned by -what name Guestwick's man called himself. Or he might have found it out -from a tradesman's lad. But to ask, as Anthony Trent, what might link -him with a robbery was too risky. - -Unfortunately for Charles Newman Guestwick his book, which had cost -Trent two dollars and was thrown aside as worthless, supplied the key to -what was needed. - -It was the wordy, garrulous book that only a multi-millionaire author -might write and have published. The first chapter, "My Childhood," was -succeeded by a lofty disquisition on music. Later there came revelations -of the Guestwick family life with portraits of their various homes. The -music room had a chapter to itself. Reading on, Anthony Trent came to -the chapter headed, rather cryptically, "After the Opera." - -"It is my custom," wrote the excellent Guestwick, "to hold in my box an -informal reception after the performance is ended. My wide knowledge of -music, of singers and their several abilities lends me, I venture to -say, a unique position among amateurs. - -"We rarely sup at hotel or restaurant after the performance. In my -library where there is also a grand piano--we have three such -instruments in our New York home and two more at Lenox--Mrs. Guestwick -and my daughters talk over what we have heard, criticizing here, lauding -there, until a simple repast is served by the butler who always waits up -for us. The rest of the servants have long since retired. My library -consists of perhaps the most valuable collection of musical literature -in the world. - -"I have mentioned in another chapter the refining influence of music on -persons of little education. John Briggs, my butler, is a case in point. -He came to me from Lord Fitzhosken's place in Northamptonshire, England. -The Fitzhoskens are immemoriably associated with fox-hunting and the -steeple-chase and all Briggs heard there in the way of music were the -cheerful rollicking songs of the hunt breakfast. I sent him to see -Götterdämmerung. He told me simply that it was a revelation to him. He -doubted in his uneducated way whether Wagner himself comprehended what -he had written." - -There were thirty other chapters in Mr. Guestwick's book. In all he -revealed himself as a pompous ass assured only of tolerance among a -people where money consciousness had succeeded that of caste. But -Anthony Trent felt kindly toward him and the money he had spent was -likely to earn him big dividends if things went well. - -Caruso sang on the night preceding the morning on which Estelle -Grandcourt was to appear and claim her heart balm. This meant a large -attendance; for tenors may come and go, press agents may announce other -golden voiced singers, but Caruso holds his pride of place honestly won -and generously maintained. It had been Trent's experience that the -Guestwicks rarely missed a big night. - -It was at half past nine Anthony Trent groaned that a professional -engagement compelled him to leave the Metropolitan. He had spent money -on a seat not this time for an evening of enjoyment, but to make certain -that the Guestwicks were in their box. - -There was Charles Newman Guestwick beating false time with a pudgy hand. -His lady, weighted with Guestwick jewels, tried to create the impression -that, after all, Caruso owed much of his success to her amiable -patronage. The two daughters upheld the Guestwick tradition by being -exceedingly affable to those greater than they and using lorgnettes to -those who strove to know the Guestwicks. - -Mr. John Briggs, drinking a mug of ale and wondering who was winning a -light weight contest at the National Sporting Club, was resting in his -sitting-room. He liked these long opera evenings, which gave him the -opportunity to rest, as much as he despised his employer for his -inordinate attendance at these meaningless entertainments. He shuddered -as he remembered "The Twilight of the Gods." - -At ten o'clock when Mr. Briggs was nodding in his chair the telephone -bell rang. Over the wire came his employer's voice. It was not without -purpose that Anthony Trent's unusual skill in mimicry had been employed. -As a youth he had acquired a reputation in his home town for imitations -of Henry Irving, Bryan, Otis Skinner and their like. - -"Is this you, Briggs?" demanded the supposed Mr. Guestwick. - -"Yes, sir," returned Briggs. - -"I wish you to listen carefully to my instructions," he was commanded. -"They are very important." - -"Certainly, sir," the man returned. He sensed a something, almost -agitation in the usually placid voice. "I hope there's nothing serious, -sir." - -"There may be," the other said, "that I can't say yet. See that every -one goes to bed but you. Send them off at once. You must remain up until -a man in evening dress comes to the front door and demands admittance. -It will be a detective. Show him at once to the library and leave him -absolutely undisturbed. Absolutely undisturbed, Briggs, do you -understand?" - -"I'll do as you say, sir," Briggs answered, troubled. He was sure now -that serious sinister things were afoot and wished the Guestwicks had -been as well disposed to dogs in the house as had been that hard -drinking, reckless Lord Fitzhosken. Suddenly an important thought came -to him. "Is there any way of making sure that the man who comes is the -detective?" - -"I am glad you are so shrewd, Briggs," said the millionaire. "It had not -occurred to me that an impostor might come. Say to the man, 'What is -your errand?' I shall instruct him to answer, 'I have come to look at -Mr. Guestwick's rare editions.'" - -"Very good, sir," said Briggs. - -"Unless he answers that, do not admit him. You understand?" - -"Perfectly," the butler made answer. - -At half past ten a man in evening dress rang the door of the Guestwick -mansion. He was a tall man with a hard look and a biting, gruff voice. - -Briggs interposed his sturdy body between the stranger and the -entrance. - -"What is your errand?" said Briggs suavely. - -"I have come to look at Mr. Guestwick's rare editions," he was told. - -"Step inside," urged Briggs with cordiality. - -"Everybody in bed?" the man snapped. - -"Except me," said the butler. - -"Any one here except the servants?" - -"We have no house guests," said Briggs. "We don't keep a deal of -company." - -"Show me to the library," the stranger commanded. - -Briggs, now stately and offended, led the way. Briggs resented the tone -the detective used. In his youth the butler had been handy with the -gloves. It was for this reason he was taken into service by the -fox-hunting nobleman so that he might box with his lordship every day -before breakfast. Briggs would have liked the opportunity to put on the -gloves with this frowning, overbearing, hawknosed detective. - -"You've got your orders?" cried the stranger. - -"I have," Briggs answered, a trace of insolence perceptible. - -"Then get out and don't worry me. Remember this, answer no phone -messages or door bells. My men outside will attend to the people who -want to get into this house." - -Briggs tried new tactics. He was feverishly anxious to find out what was -suspected. - -"As man to man," Briggs began with a fine affability. - -Imperiously he was ordered from the room. - -Anthony Trent sank into a chair and laughed gently. It had all been so -absurdly easy. Two good hours were before him. None would interrupt. It -was known that young Norton had been bundled out of town until his -charmer had disappeared. _Gotham Gossip_ had told him so much. It was -almost certain that the Guestwicks would not return to their home until -half past twelve. That would give him a sufficient time to examine every -likely looking place in the house. The old time crook would no doubt -have hit Mr. Briggs over the head with a black jack and run a risk in -the doing of it. The representative of the newer school had simply sent -all the servants to bed. - -Looking quickly about the great apartment, book-lined and imposing, -Trent's eyes fell on an edition in twenty fat volumes of _Penroy's -Encyclopædia of Music and Art_. Scrutiny told the observer that behind -these steel-bound fake books there was a safe. It was an old dodge, -this. If the money for Miss Grandcourt was not here there were, no -doubt, negotiable papers and jewels. This was just the sort of -sacro-sanct spot where valuables might be laid away. - -To pry open the glass door of the book case, roll back the works of the -unknown Penroy and come face to face with the old fashioned safe took -less than two minutes. It was amazing that so shrewd a man as Guestwick -must be in business matters should rely on this. It was rather that he -relied on the integrity of his servants and an efficient system of -burglar alarm. - -From the cane that Anthony Trent had carelessly thrown on a chair, he -took some finely tempered steel drills and presently assembled the tools -necessary to his task. As a boy he had been the rare kind who could take -a watch apart and put it together again and have no parts left over. It -was largely owing to an inborn mechanical skill that he had persuaded -himself he could make good at his calling. - -It was striking eleven by the ship's clock--six bells--when he rolled -the doors open. He rose to his feet and stretched. Kneeling before the -safe had cramped his muscles. Sinking into a big black leathern chair he -contemplated the strong box that was now at his mercy. He allowed -himself the luxury of a cigarette. There passed before his mind's eye a -vista of pleasant shaded pools wherein big trout were lying. Weems did -not own the only desirable camp on Kennebago. - -He was suddenly called back from this dreaming, this castle-building, to -a realization that such prospects might never be his. It was the low, -pleasant, tones of a cultivated woman's voice which wrought the amazing -change. - -"I suppose you're a burglar," the voice said. There was no trace of -nervousness in her tone. - -He sprang to his feet and looked around. Not twenty feet distant he saw -her. She was a tall, graceful girl about twenty-two or three, clad in a -charming evening gown. Over her white arm trailed a fur cloak costly and -elegant. And, although the moment was hardly one for thinking of female -charms, he was struck by her unusual beauty. She possessed an air of -extreme sophistication and stood looking at him as if the man before her -were some unusual and bizarre specimen of his kind. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -WHEN A WOMAN SMILED - - -ANTHONY TRENT apparently was in no way confused at this interruption. -The woman was not to guess that his _nonchalant_ manner and the careless -lighting of a cigarette, cloaked in reality a feeling of despair at the -untoward ending of his adventure. Calmly she walked past him and looked -at the assemblage of finely tempered steel instruments of his -profession. - -"So you're a burglar!" she said with an air of decision. - -"That is a term I dislike," said Anthony Trent genially. "Call me rather -a professional collector, an abstractor, a connoisseur--anything but -that." - -"It amounts to the same thing," she returned severely, "you came here to -steal my father's money." - -"Your father's money," he returned slowly. "Then--then you are Miss -Guestwick?" - -"Naturally," she retorted eyeing him keenly, "and if you offer any -violence I shall have you arrested." - -She was amazed to see a pleasant smile break over the intruder's face. -He was exceedingly attractive when he smiled. - -"What a hard heart you have!" - -"You ought to realize this is no time to jest," she said stiffly. - -"I am not so sure," he made answer. - -She looked at him haughtily. He realized that he had rarely seen so -beautiful a girl. There was a look of high courage about her that -particularly appealed to him. She had long Oriental eyes of jade green. -He amended his guess as to her age. She must be seven and twenty he told -himself. - -"It is my duty to call the police and have you arrested," she exclaimed. - -"That is the usual procedure," he agreed. - -She stood there irresolute. - -"I wonder what makes you steal!" - -"Abstract," he corrected, "collect, borrow, annex--but not steal." - -She took no notice of his interruption. - -"It isn't as though you were ill or starving--that might be some sort of -excuse--but you are well dressed. I've done a great deal of social work -among the poor and often I've met the wives of thieves and have actually -found myself pitying men who have stolen for bread." - -"Jean Valjean stuff," he smiled, "it has elements of pathos. Jean got -nineteen years for it if you remember." - -She paid no heed to his flippancy. - -"You talk like an educated man. Economic determination did not bring you -to this. You have absolutely no excuse." - -"I have offered none," he said drily. - -She spoke with a sudden air of candor. - -"Do you know this situation interests me very much. One reads about -burglars, of course, but that sort of thing seems rather remote. We've -never had any robberies here before, and now to come face to face with -a real burglar, cracking--isn't that the word you use?--a safe, is -rather disconcerting." - -"You bear up remarkably well," he assured her. - -It was her turn to smile. - -"I'm just wondering," she said slowly. "My father detests notoriety." - -The intruder permitted himself to laugh gently. He thought of that -pretentious tome "Operas I Have Seen." - -"How well Mr. Guestwick conceals it!" - -Apparently she had not heard him. It was plain she was in the throes of -making up her mind. - -"I wonder if I ought to do it," she mused. - -"Do what?" he demanded. - -"Let you get away. You have so far stolen nothing so I should not be -aiding or abetting a crime." - -"Indeed you would," he said promptly. "My very presence here is illegal -and as you see I have opened that absurd safe." - -"What an amazing burglar!" she cried, "he does not want his freedom." - -"It is your duty as Mr. Guestwick's daughter to send me to jail and I -shan't respect you if you don't." - -She was again the haughty young society woman gazing at a curious -specimen of man. - -"It is very evident," she snapped, "that you don't appreciate your -position. Instead of sending you to prison I am willing to give you -another chance. Will you promise me never to do this sort of thing again -if I let you go?" - -Trent looked up. - -"I have enjoyed your conversation very much," he observed genially, -"but I have work to do. Inside that safe I expect to find fifty thousand -dollars and possibly some odd trinkets. I am in particular need of the -money and I propose to get it." - -Swiftly she crossed the room to a telephone. - -"I don't think you'll succeed," she said, her hand on the instrument. - -"Put it to the test," he suggested. "The wires are not cut." - -"Why aren't you afraid?" she demanded; "don't you realize your -position?" - -"Fully," he retorted, "but remember you'll have just the same difficulty -as I in explaining your presence here. Now go ahead and get the police." - -"What do you mean?" she cried. He noticed that she paled at what he said -and her hands had been for a moment not quite steady. - -"First that you are not a Miss Guestwick. There are only two of them and -I have just left them at the Opera. Next you are neither servant nor -guest. The servants are all abed and there are no house guests. I am not -accustomed to making mistakes in matters of this sort. Now, I'm not -inviting confidences and I'm not making threats, but the doors are -locked and I intend to get what I came for. Ring all you like and see if -a servant answers you. By the way how is it I overlooked you when I came -in?" - -"I hid behind those portières." - -"It was excusable," he commented, "not to have looked there." - -She sank into a chair her whole face suffused with gloom. He steeled his -heart against feeling sympathy for her. He would liked to have learned -all about her but there was not much time. The Guestwicks might return -earlier than usual or Briggs might be lurking the other side of the -door. - -"You've found me out," she said quietly, "I'm not one of the Guestwick -girls." - -"I told you so," he said a little impatiently. - -"Don't you want to know anything about me?" she demanded. - -"Some other time," he returned, "I'm busy now." - -"But what are you going to do?" she asked. - -"I thought I told you. I'm going to see what Mr. Guestwick has which -interests me. Then I shall get a bite to eat somewhere and go home to -bed." - -"Are you going to take that fifty thousand dollars?" she demanded. Her -tone was a tragic one. - -"That's what I came for," he told her. - -"You mustn't, you mustn't," she declared and then fell to weeping -bitterly. - -Beauty in distress moved Anthony Trent even when his business most -engrossed his attention. It was his nature to be considerate of women. -When he had garnered enough money to buy himself a home he intended to -marry and settle down to domestic joys. As to this weeping woman, there -was little doubt in his mind as to the reason she was in the Guestwick -home. Perhaps she noticed the harder look that came to his face. - -"Whom do you think I am?" she asked. - -"I have not forgotten," he answered, "that women also are abstractors at -times." - -She gazed at him wide open eyes, a look of horror on her face. - -"You think I'm here to steal?" - -"I wish I didn't," he answered. "It's bad enough for a man, but for a -woman like you. What am I to think when I find you hiding in a house -where you have no right to be?" - -"That's the whole tragedy of it," she exclaimed, "that I've no right to -be here. I suppose I shall have to tell you everything. Can't you guess -who I am?" - -Anthony Trent looked at the clock. Precious seconds were chasing one -another into minutes and he had wasted too much time already. - -"I don't see that it matters at all to me," he pointed to the safe, "I'm -here on business." - -It annoyed him to feel he was not quite living up to the debonair heroes -he had created once upon a time. They would not have permitted -themselves to be so brusque with a lovely girl upon whose exquisite -cheeks tears were still wet. - -"You must listen to me," she implored, "I'm Estelle Grandcourt. Now do -you understand why I've come?" - -"For the money that you think is already yours," he said, a trifle -sulkily. Matters were becoming complicated. - -"Money!" cried the amazing chorus girl, "I hate it!" - -His face cleared. - -"If that's the case," he said genially, "we shall not quarrel. Frankly, -Miss Grandcourt, I love it." - -She glanced at him through tear-beaded lashes. - -"I suppose you've always thought of a show girl as a scheming -adventuress always on the lookout for some foolish, rich old man or else -some silly boy with millions to spend." - -"Not at all!" he protested. - -"But you have," she contradicted, "I can tell by your manner. For my -part I have always thought of burglars as brutal, low-browed men without -chivalry or courtesy. I've been wrong too. I imagined the -gentleman-crook was only a fiction and now I find him a fact. Will you -please tell me what you've heard about me. I'm not fishing for -compliments. I want, really and truly, to know." - -Trent hesitated a moment. He thought, as he looked at her, that never -had he seen a sweeter face. She was wholly in earnest. - -"Please, please," she entreated. - -"It's probably all wrong," he observed, "but the general impression is -that Norton Guestwick is a wild, weak lad for whom you set your snares. -And when Mr. Guestwick tried to break it off you asked fifty-thousand -dollars in cash as a price." - -"Do you believe that?" she asked looking at him almost piteously. - -"It was common report," he said, seeking to exonerate himself, "I read -some of it in _Gotham Gossip_." - -"And just because of what some spiteful writer said you condemn me -unheard." - -He looked at the inviting safe and fidgeted. - -"I'm not condemning," he reminded her. "I don't know anything about the -affair. I don't yet see why you are here, Miss Grandcourt." - -"Because I have the right to be," she said, looking him full in the -face. "I pretended I was a Miss Guestwick. If you wish to know the -truth, I am Mrs. Norton Guestwick. I can show you our marriage -certificate. This is the first time I have ever been in the house of my -father-in-law." - -"How did you get in?" he demanded. He felt certain that Briggs the -butler had shown him into the library believing it to be unoccupied. - -"I bribed a servant who used to be in our employ." - -"Your employ?" he queried. - -"Why not?" she flung back at him. "Is it also reported that I come from -the slums? We were never rich as the Guestwicks are rich, but until my -father died we lived in good style as we know it in the South. I am at -least as well educated as my sisters-in-law who refuse to recognize that -I exist. I was at the Sacred Heart Convent in Paris. I sing and paint -and play the piano as well as most girls but do none of these well -enough to make a living at it. I came here to New York hoping that -through the influence of my father's friends I could get some sort of a -position which would give me a living wage." She shrugged her shoulders, -"I wonder if you know how differently people look at one when one is -well off and when one comes begging favors?" - -"None better," he exclaimed bitterly. - -"So I had to get in to the chorus because they said my figure would do -even if I hadn't a good enough voice. Then I met Norton." - -She looked at Anthony Trent with a little friendly smile that stirred -him oddly. In that moment he envied Norton Guestwick more than any -living creature. - -"What do they say about my husband?" she asked. - -"You can never believe reports," he said evasively. - -"I'll tell you," she returned, "they say he is a waster, a libertine, -weak and degenerate. They are wrong. He is full of sweet, generous -impulses. His mother has so pampered him that he was almost hopeless -till I met him. I expect you think it's conceited of me but I have a -great influence on him." - -"You would on any man," he said fervently. - -She looked at him in a way that suggested a certain subtle tribute to -his best qualities. - -"Ah, but you are different," she sighed, "you are strong and resolute. -You would sway the woman you loved and make her what you wanted her to -be. He is clay for my molding and I want him to be a splendid, fine son -like my father." She looked at Trent with a tender, proud smile, "If you -had ever met my father you would understand." - -Anthony Trent shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. He had not -dared for months now to think of that kindly country physician who died -from the exposure attendant on a trip during a blizzard to aid a -penniless patient. - -"I know what you mean," he said at length, "and I think it is splendid -of you. Good God! why can people like the Guestwicks object to a girl -like you?" - -"They've never seen me," she explained, "and that's the main trouble. -They persist in thinking of me as a champagne-drinking adventuress who -wants to blackmail them. That money"--she pointed to the safe, "I didn't -ask for it. Mr. Guestwick offered it to me as a bribe to give up my -husband and consent to a divorce." - -"But I still don't see why you are here," he said. - -"Our old servant arranged it. She says they always come up here after -the opera, all four of them. If I confront them they must see I'm not -the sort of girl they think me. I'm dreading it horribly but it's the -only way." - -Anthony Trent looked at her with open admiration. - -"You'll win," he cried enthusiastically, "I feel it in my bones." - -"And when I absolutely refuse to take their money they _must_ see I'm -not the adventuress they call me." - -Anthony Trent had by this time forgotten the money. The mention of it -reminded him of his errand and the fleeting minutes. - -"If you don't take it, what is going to happen to it?" - -"I'm going to tell Mr. Guestwick that he can't buy me." - -"But I'm willing to be bought," he said, forcing a smile. "In fact -that's what I came for." - -She shrunk back as though he had struck her. Her big eyes looked -reproach at him. Tremulous eager words seemed forced from her by the -agitation into which his words had thrown her. - -"You couldn't do that now," she wailed, "not now you know. They'll be in -very soon now and what could I say if the money was gone? Don't you see -they would send me away in disgrace and Norton would believe that I was -just as bad as they said? Then he'd divorce me and I think my heart -would break." - -"Damn!" muttered Trent. Things were happening in an unexpected fashion. -He tried not to look at her piteous face. - -"Please be kind to me," she begged, "this is your opportunity to do one -great noble thing." - -"It really means so much to you?" he asked. - -"It means everything," she said simply. - -He paced the room for a minute or more. He was fighting a great battle. -There remained in him, despite his mode of living, a certain generosity -of character, a certain fineness bequeathed him by generations of -honorable folk. He saw clearly what the girl meant. She was here to -fight for her happiness and the redemption of the man she loved. How -small a thing, it seemed to him suddenly, was the necessity he had felt -for obtaining the miserable money. What stinging mordant memories would -always be his if he refused her! - -There was a tenderness, a protective look in his eyes when he glanced -down at her. He was his father's son again. - -"It means something to me, too," he told her, "to do as you want, and I -don't believe there's a person on this green earth I'd do it for but -you." - -His hand lingered for a moment on her white shoulder. - -"Good luck, little girl." - -The partly lighted hall full of mysterious shadows awakened no fear in -him as he quietly descended the stairs. And when he came to the avenue -he did not glance up and down as he usually did to see whether or not he -was being followed. - -There was a lightness of heart and an exaltation of spirit which he had -never experienced. It was that happiness which alone comes to the man -who has made a sacrifice. There was never a moment since he had -abandoned fiction that he was nearer to returning to its uncertain -rewards. Pipe after pipe he smoked when he was once more in his quiet -room and asked himself why he had done this thing. There were two -reasons hard to dissociate. First, this wonderful girl had reminded him -of the man he had passionately admired--his father, the father who had -taught him to play fair. And then he was forced to admit he had never -been more drawn to any woman than to this girl, who must, before his -last pipe was smoked, have won her victory or gone down to defeat. Again -and again he told himself that there was no man he envied so much as -Norton Guestwick. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -"THE COUNTESS" - - -The next morning Anthony Trent observed that Mrs. Kinney was filled with -the excitement that attended the reading of an unusual crime as set -forth by the morning papers. It was in those crimes committed in the -higher circles of society which intrigued her most, that society which -she had served. - -As a rule Trent let her wander on feeling that her pleasures were few. -Sometimes he thought it a little curious that she should concern herself -with affairs in which he was sure, sooner or later, to be involved. It -was a relief to know she spoke of them to none but him. He rarely -bothered to follow her rambling recitals, contenting himself now and -again with exclamations of supposed interest. But this morning he was -suddenly roused from his meditations by the mention of the word -Guestwick. - -"What's that?" he demanded. - -"I was telling you about the Guestwick robbery, sir," she said as she -filled his cup. - -He did not as a rule look at the paper until his breakfast was done. To -send her for it now might, later, be used as a chain in the evidence -that might even now be forging for him. He affected a luke-warm -interest. - -"What was it?" he asked. - -"Money mad!" returned Mrs. Kinney, shaking her head. "All money mad. The -root of all evil." - -"A robbery was it?" - -"It was like this," Mrs. Kinney responded, strangely gratified that her -employer found her recital worth listening to. "There was fifty-thousand -dollars in cash in the safe in Mr. Guestwick's library. He's a -millionaire and lives on Fifth Avenue. It's a most mysterious case. The -butler swears his master rang him up and told him to send all the -servants to bed." - -At length Mrs. Kinney recited Briggs's evidence before the police -captain who was hurriedly summoned to the mansion. "They arrested the -butler," said Mrs. Kinney. "Mr. Guestwick says he came from one of those -castles in England where dissolute noblemen do nothing but shoot foxes -all day and play cards all night. The police theory is that the butler -admitted them and then went bed so as to prove an alibi." - -"Mr. Guestwick denies sending any such message?" - -"Yes. He was at the Opera." - -Anthony Trent fought down the desire to rush out into the kitchen and -take the paper from before Mrs. Kinney's plate. She had said that Briggs -was to have admitted more than one person. - -"How many did this suspected butler let in?" - -"Only one, the man. He was in evening dress. Briggs suspected him from -the first, but daren't go against his master's positive instructions. -Briggs, the butler, says the man must have opened the door to his -accomplice when he'd been sent off to bed with instructions not to -answer any bell or telephone. The other was a beautiful young woman -dressed just as she'd come from the Opera herself." - -"Who saw her if Briggs did not?" he demanded. - -"They caught her," Mrs. Kinney returned triumphantly, "and the arrest of -her accomplice is expected any minute. They know who he is." - -Anthony Trent put down his untasted coffee. - -"That's interesting," he commented. "Do they mention his name?" - -"I don't know as they did," she replied. "I'll go fetch the paper." - -He read it through with a deeper interest than he had ever taken in -printed sheet before. Such was Guestwick's importance that two columns -had been devoted to him. - -Mr. Guestwick on returning from the Opera was incensed to find none to -let him in his own house. He was compelled to use a latchkey. The house -was silent and unlighted. Mr. Guestwick, although a man of courage, felt -the safety of his women folk would be better guarded if he called in a -passing policeman. In the library they came face to face with crime. - -There, standing at the closed safe, her skirt caught as the heavy doors -had swung to, was a beautiful woman engaged as they came upon her in -trying to tear off the imprisoning garments. Five minutes later and she -would have escaped said police sapience. - -Finger prints revealed her as a very well-known criminal known to the -continental police as "The Countess." She was one of a high-class gang -which operated as a rule on the French and Italian Riviera, and owed its -success to the ease with which it could assume the manners and customs -of the aristocracy it planned to steal from. "The Countess," for -example, spoke English with a perfection of idiom and inflection that -was unequaled by a foreigner. She was believed to come from an old -family of Tuscany. Despite a rigid examination by the police she had -declined to make any explanation. That, she told them, would be done in -court. - -Anthony Trent looked at the clock. It was nine and she would be brought -before a magistrate at half-past ten. - -So he had been fooled! All those high resolves of his had been brought -into being by a woman who must have been laughing at him all the while, -who must have congratulated herself that her lies had touched a man's -heart and left fifty thousand dollars for her. - -It was a bitter and harder Anthony Trent that came to the police court; -a man who was now almost as ashamed at his determination of last night -to abandon his career as he was now anxious to pursue it. - -There was possibly some danger in going. Briggs would be there. The -woman might point at him in open court. There were a hundred dangers, -but they had no power to deter him. He swore to watch her, gain what -particulars he might as to her past life and associates, and then take -his revenge. God! How she had hoodwinked him! - -His face he must, of course, disguise in some simple manner. It was not -difficult. In court he took a seat not too far back. Chewing gum, as he -had often observed in the subway, had a marvelous power in altering an -expression. He sat there, his lower jaw thrust out and his mouth drawn -down, ceaselessly chewing. And one eye was partially closed. He had -brought the thing to perfection. With shoulders hunched he looked -without fear of detection into the fascinating green eyes of "The -Countess." - -By this time her defense was arranged. Last night, her lawyer explained, -she was so overcome with the shock that she could not make even a simple -statement to the police. - -Miss Violet Benyon, he declared, of London, England, and temporarily at -the Plaza, had felt on the previous evening need for a walk. Knowing -Fifth Avenue to be absolutely safe she walked North. Passing the -Guestwick mansion she saw a man in evening dress stealing down the -steps, across the road and into the Park. Fearing robbery she had rung -the bell. Getting no answer and finding the door open she went in. The -only light was in the library. Of a fearless nature, Miss Benyon of -London went boldly in. There was an open safe. This she closed and in -the doing of it was imprisoned. That was all. The lawyer swept the -finger-prints aside as unworthy evidence. He was appearing before a -neolithic magistrate who was prejudiced against them. - -An imposing old lady who claimed to be Miss Benyon's aunt went bail for -her niece's appearance to the amount of ten thousand dollars. She -mentioned as close friends names of well known Americans, socially -elect, who would rush to her rescue ere the day was out. So impressive -was she, and so splendid a witness did Miss Benyon make, that the -magistrate disregarded Mr. Guestwick's plea and admitted her to bail. - -Trent knew very well that Central Office men would dog the steps of aunt -and niece, making escape almost impossible. But he was nevertheless -convinced that Miss Violet Benyon of London, or the Countess from the -Riviera, would never return to the magistrate's court as that trusting -jurist anticipated. - -And Anthony Trent was right. The two women, despite police surveillance, -left the hotel and merged themselves among the millions. The younger -woman taking advantage of a new maid's inexperience offered her a reward -for permitting her to escape by back ways in order to win, as she -averred, a bet. The aunt's escape was unexplained by the police. They -found awaiting the elder woman's coming a girl from a milliner's shop. -She was allowed to go without examination. Trent read the account very -carefully and stored every published particular in his trained memory. -There was no doubt in his mind that the milliner's assistant was the -so-called aunt. He remembered her as a slim, elderly woman, very much -made-up. - -On his own account he called at the milliner's and made some inquiries. -He found that there was no account with the Benyons and no assistant had -been sent to the hotel. It was none of his business to aid police -authorities. And he was not anxious that the two should be caught in -that way. There would come a time when he was retired from his present -occupation when he would feel the need of excitement. Getting even with -the clever actress who prevented him from taking the Guestwick money -would call for his astutest planning. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -ANTHONY TRENT SAVES A PIANO - - -FOR some months now Trent had been preparing a campaign against the -collection of precious stones belonging to Carr Faulkner whose white -stone mansion looked across the Park from his home. But whereas Trent's -house faced east, the Faulkner abode looked west. And in matter of -residence locality there is an appreciable difference in this outlook. - -The Faulkner millions were in the main inherited. There was a -conservative banking house on Broad Street bearing the Faulkner name but -it did not look for new business and found its principal work in -guarding the vast Faulkner fortune. - -Faulkner's first wife had been a collector of pearls, those modest -stones whose assembled value is always worth the criminal's attention. -The second wife, a young woman of less aristocratic stock, eschewed -pearls, holding the theory that each one was a tear. She wanted flashing -stones which advertised their value more ostentatiously. Trent had seen -her at the Opera and marked her down as a profitable client. - -It was because Trent worked so carefully that he made so few mistakes. -He had no friends to ask him leading questions and gossip about his mode -of life. He had been half a year collecting information about the Carr -Faulkners, the style in which they lived, the intimate friends they had -and a hundred little details which a careful professional must know -before he can hope to make a success. - -The system of burglar alarm installed in the mansion was an elaborate -one but he was not unskilled in matters of this sort. For three months -he had worked in the shop where they were made and his general inborn -mechanical skill had been aided by conscientious study. Attention to -detail had saved him more than once, and is an aid to be counted on more -than luck. - -Yet it was sheer blind, kindly, garrulous luck that finally took Trent -unsuspected into the Carr Faulkner mansion. Riding up Madison avenue in -a trolley car late one afternoon, he overheard one of the Faulkner's -maids discussing the family. - -One of the girls had knocked over a vase of cut flowers which stood on a -grand piano in Mrs. Carr Faulkner's boudoir and the water had leaked -through onto the wire and wood, doing some little damage. - -"She was madder'n a wet hen," said the girl. - -"Them things cost a lot of money," her companion commented, "and that -was inlaid like all the other things in her room. Gee! the way Mr. -Faulkner spends the money on her is a crime." - -"Second wives have a cinch," said the first girl, sneering. "From all I -hear the first was a perfect lady and kind to the maids, but this one is -down-right ordinary. You should have heard what she said about me over -the 'phone when she told the piano people to send a tuner up, and me -standing there. Said I was "clumsy" and "stupid" and "a love-sick fool." -I could tell something about love-sick fools if I wanted to! And she -knows it." - -Her friend cautioned her. - -"Be careful," she whispered, "you may want to lose your job but I don't. -Don't talk so loud." - -It was hardly five o'clock. Anthony Trent left the car and started for a -telephone booth. He went methodically through the lists of the better -known piano makers. There was one firm whose high-priced instrument was -frequently encased in rare woods for specially furnished rooms. - -"This is Mr. Carr Faulkner's secretary speaking," he began when the -number was given to him. "Have you been instructed to see about a piano -here?" - -"We are sending a man right away," he was told. - -"To-morrow morning will do," said the supposed secretary. "We are giving -a small dance to-night and it will not be convenient." - -"We should prefer to send now," came the answer. "A valuable instrument -might be extensively damaged if not attended to right away." - -Trent became confidential. He dropped his voice. - -"It's nothing for Mr. Faulkner to buy a new instrument if it's needed, -but it's a serious thing if a dance that Mrs. Faulkner gives is -interrupted. Money is no consideration here as you ought to know." - -The piano man, remembering the price that was exacted for the special -case, smiled to himself. It would be better for him to sell a new -instrument. It would not surprise him if this affable secretary called -in some fine morning and hinted at commission. Such things had been done -before in the trade. - -"It's just as you say," he returned. "At what hour shall our Mr. Jackson -call?" - -"As soon as he likes after ten," said the obliging Trent, and rang off. - -Then he called up the Carr Faulkner house and told the answering man -servant that Mr. Jackson of Stoneham's would call at half past six. He -was switched on to the private wire of Mrs. Carr Faulkner. - -"It's disgraceful that you can't come before," she stormed. - -"Yours is specially made instrument," he reminded her, "and I need -special tools." - -Then he took the crosstown car to his home and changed into a neat dark -business suit. He also arrayed himself in a brand new shirt and collar. -Mrs. Kinney always washed these, and many a criminal has had his -identity proved by his laundry mark. Trent, like a wise man, admitted -the possibility that some day he might be caught but was determined -never to take the risks that lesser craftsmen hardly thought of. - -Anthony Trent thought it most probable that the Faulkner's butler would -be of the imported species. He hoped so. He found that they were more -easily impressed by good manners and dress than the domestic breed. - -Some day he determined to write an essay on butlers. There was Conington -Warren's bishop-like Austin, cold, severe, aloof. There was Guestwick's -man, the jovial sportsman type molding himself no doubt on some admired -employer of earlier days. - -Faulkner's butler was an amiable creature and inclined to associate with -a piano tuner on equal terms. He had rather fine features and was -admired of the female domestics. His dignity forbade him to indulge in -much familiarity with the men beneath him and he welcomed the -pseudo-tuner as an opportunity to converse. - -"I knew you by your voice," said the butler cordially. "Come in." - -There was little chance that the maid servants behind whom he had sat on -the car would recognize him. Or if they did there was no reason why they -should be suspicious. - -Mrs. Carr Faulkner's boudoir was a delightful room on the third floor. A -little electric, self-operated elevator leading to it was pointed out by -the butler. - -"Not for the likes of you or me," said the man. "We can walk." - -Mrs. Carr Faulkner was a dissatisfied looking blonde woman. In her opera -box surrounded by friends and displaying her famous jewels she had -seemed a vision of loveliness to the gazing far-away Trent. Here in her -own home and dealing with those whom she considered her inferiors, she -made no effort to be even civil. - -"Who is this person?" she demanded of the butler. - -"The man come to look at the piano, ma'am," he returned. - -"You're not Mr. Jackson," she said with abruptness. - -It was plain Jackson was known. Trent blamed himself for not thinking of -this possibility. - -"I am the head tuner," he said with dignity, "we understood it was a -case where the highest skill was needed." - -She looked at him coldly. - -"I don't know that it demands much of what you call skill," she -retorted acidly. "You have come at a singularly inconvenient hour. -Please get to work at once." - -With this she left the room. The butler gazed after her scowling. - -"Do you have to put up with that all day?" Trent asked him. - -"How the boss stands it I don't know," said the butler. - -"Why take it out on a mere piano tuner?" Trent asked. - -The butler winked knowingly. He dug Trent in the ribs with a fine, free -and friendly gesture. - -"Speaking as one man of the world to another," he observed, "I guess you -spoiled a little _tête-à-tête_ as we say in gay Paree. Mr. Carr Faulkner -leaves the Union Club at seven and walks up the Avenue in time to dress -for his dinner at eight. There's another gentleman leaves another club -on the same Avenue and gets here as a rule at six and leaves in time to -avoid the master." The butler leaned forward and whispered in the -tuner's ear, "She's crazy about him. The only man who doesn't know is -the boss. It's always the way," added the self-confessed man of the -world, "I wouldn't trust any woman living. The more they have the worse -they are. If ever I marry I'll take a job as lighthouse keeper and take -my wife along." - -"Will they come in here?" Trent asked anxiously. He wanted the -opportunity to do his own work while the family dined and he did not -want to be seen by an unnecessary person. He disliked taking even a -million to one shot. - -The cynical butler interpreted his interest differently. - -"You won't understand a word of what they're saying. They talk in -French. She was at school in Lausanne and he's a French count, or says -he is. I've made a mistake in scorning foreign languages," the butler -admitted, "I'd give a lot to know what they talk about." He was not to -know that Trent knew French moderately well. - -Left to himself Trent called to mind the actions of a piano tuner. He -had often watched his own grand being tuned. When Mrs. Carr Faulkner -came into the room she beheld an earnest young man delving among the -piano's depths. She was interested in no man but Jules d'Aucquier who -filled her heart and emptied her purse. - -"Is the thing much damaged?" she asked presently. - -"I think not," he replied. - -"Then you need not stay long?" - -"I shall go as soon as possible," he said. - -She sank into a deep chair and thought of Jules. And there came to her -face a softer, happier look. The butler's talk Trent dismissed as mere -servants' gossip. Of Carr Faulkner he knew nothing except that he was -years older than his wife. He was, probably, a wealthy roué who had -coveted this beautiful woman and bought her in marriage. In high society -it was often that way, he mused. Family coercion, perhaps, or the need -to aid impoverished parents. It was being done every day. This man of -whom the butler spoke was probably her own age. Since the stone age this -domestic intrigue must have been going on. - -He touched the keyboard--pianissimo at first and then growing bolder -plunged into the glorious _Liebestod_. It was not the sort of thing Mr. -Jackson would have done but then Anthony Trent was a head tuner as he -had explained. He watched the woman's face to see into what mood the -music would lead her. He was speedily to find out. - -"Stop," she commanded and rising to her feet came to his side. "Why do -you do that?" - -"I must try it," he answered, a little sheepishly, "we always have to -test an instrument." - -"But to play the _Liebestod_" she said severely. "I have heard them all -play it, Bauer, Borwick, Grainger, d'Albert and Hoffman and you dare to -try! It was impertinent of you. Of course if you must play just play -those chords tuners always use." - -Trent admitted afterwards he had never been more angry or felt more -insulted in his life. He had not for a moment supposed this butterfly -woman even knew the name of what he played. - -"I won't offend again," he said with what he hoped was a sarcastic -inflection. She answered never a word. She seemed to be listening. Trent -heard a sound that might have been the opening of the elevator door. -Then came hurried steps along the hall and Jules d'Aucquier entered. - -He was dark to the point of swarthiness, tall and graceful. His rather -small head reminded Trent of a snake's. As a man who knew men Trent -determined that the newcomer was dangerous. The look that he threw -across the room to the intruder was not pleasant. - -He spoke very quickly in French. - -"Who is this?" he demanded. - -"No one who matters," she answered in the same tongue. - -"But what is the pig doing here at this hour?" he asked. - -"Repairing the piano," she told him, "a poor tuner I imagine for the -reason that he plays so well. I had to stop him when he began the -_Liebestod_. It affects me too much. That was being played when you -first looked into my eyes, dear one." - -"Send him away," the man commanded. - -"But that would look suspicious," she declared. - -Trent noticed that Jules did not respond to the affection which was in -the woman's tone. - -"You should not telephone to me at the club," he said as he took a seat -at her side. "I am only a temporary member and do not want to embarrass -my sponsor." - -"But you were so cruel to me yesterday," she murmured. - -"Cruel?" he repeated and turned his cold, snake eyes on her, eyes that -could, when he willed it, glow with fire and passion. "Who is the -crueler, you or I?" - -"What do you mean?" she cried almost tearfully. "You know I love you." - -"And yet when I ask you to do a favor which is easily within your power -to perform you refuse. I must have money; that you know." - -"It is always money now," she complained. "You no longer say that you -love me." - -"How can I when my creditors bark at my heels like hungry dogs? Unless -I pay by to-morrow it is finished. You and I see one another no more, -that is certain." - -He looked at her in annoyed surprise when she suddenly smiled. He -watched her with an even greater interest than the man gazing from -behind the piano. From an escritoire she took a package wrapped in -lavender paper. This she placed in the pocket of the coat that he had -thrown across a chair. - -"What good are cigarettes to me now?" he demanded. "I have told you that -unless I have fifteen thousand dollars by noon to-morrow, I am done." - -"When you get to your rooms," she said, smiling, "open your cigarettes -and see if I do not love you." - -Trent admitted this Jules was undeniably handsome now that the dark face -was wreathed in smiles. Jules gathered her in his arms. - -"My soul," he whispered, and covered her face with kisses. When he -attempted to rise and go to the coat his eyes were staring at, she held -him tight. - -"I got twenty thousand from him," she said. "You will find the twenty -bills each wrapped in the cigarette papers. I pushed the tobacco out and -they fitted in." - -"Wasteful one," he said in tender reproach and sought again to retrieve -his coat. - -Unfortunately for the debonair Jules d'Aucquier this was not immediately -possible. The click of the little elevator was heard. The two looked at -one another in alarm. - -"It must be Carr," she whispered. "Nobody else could possibly use that -elevator now. Somebody has told him." She looked about her in despair. -"You must hide. Quick, behind the piano there until I get him away." - -Trent working industriously amid the wreckage of what had been a grand -piano looked up with polite surprise at the tall man who flung himself -almost at his feet and tried to conceal himself behind part of the -instrument. - -"Hide me, quickly," Jules whispered, "do you hear. I will give you -money. Quick, fool, don't gape at me." - -For the second time that evening Anthony Trent smothered his anger and -smiled when rage was in his heart. And he did so for the second time not -because he was conscious of fear but because he saw himself suitably -rewarded for his efforts. He felt a note thrust into his hand but this -was not the reward he looked for. He was arranging the piano débris -around the prostrate Jules when there was a knock on the door and Carr -Faulkner entered. - -The millionaire's eye fell first of all upon the coat over the chair. - -"Who's is this?" he demanded. - -The pause was hardly perceptible before she answered. - -"I suppose it belongs to the piano man." - -Faulkner looked across at the instrument and beheld the busy Trent -taking what else was possible from the Stoneman. All the king's horses -and all the king's men could not put that instrument together again -easily. Trent went about his business with quiet persistence. - -Carr Faulkner's voice was very courteous and kind as he addressed the -tuner. - -"I'm afraid I must ask you to wait outside in the hall for a few minutes -until I have had a little private talk with my wife." - -"Is that necessary," she said quickly. "I'm just going to dress for -dinner. We have people coming, remember." - -"There is time," he said meaningly. "I left my club half an hour earlier -to-day. Did the change incommode you?" - -"Why should it?" she said lightly. - -Faulkner was a man of middle age with a fine thoughtful face. It was a -face that made an instant appeal to Trent. It mirrored kindliness and -good breeding, and reminded him in a subtle way of his own father, a -country physician who had died a dozen years before his only son left -the way of honest men. - -"A few minutes only," he said and Trent passed out into the hall taking -care to leave the door opened an inch or so. It was necessary for his -peace of mind that he should know what it was Mr. Faulkner had to say to -his wife. It might concern him vitally. It was possible that inquiry at -Stoneman's might have informed Faulkner of his trickery. While this was -improbable Trent was not minded to be careless. This kindly aspect of -the millionaire might be assumed to put him off his guard; even now men -might be stationed at the exits to arrest him. Very quietly he stole -back to the door and listened. - -"I have found out for certain what I have long suspected," Faulkner was -saying to his wife. "It is always the husband who learns last. Don't -protest," he added. "I know too much. I know for example that you have -sold many of your jewels to provide funds for a gambler and a rascal." - -"I don't know what you mean," she cried white-faced. - -"You do," he said, and there was a trace of deep sadness in his voice. -"You know too well. This man Jules d'Aucquier is not of a noble French -family at all. He is a French-Canadian and was formerly a valet to an -English officer of title at Ottawa. It was there he picked up this -smattering of knowledge which has made it easy to fool the -unsuspecting." - -"I don't believe it," she cried vehemently. - -He looked at her sadly. The whole scene was crucifixion for him. - -"I shall prove it," he said quietly. - -"I don't care if you do," she flung back at him. - -"You would care for him just the same?" he asked. - -"I have not said that I care for him at all," she said, a trace of -caution creeping into her manner. - -"I shall give you the opportunity to prove it one way or another within -a few minutes. We have come to the parting of the ways." - -It was at this moment Anthony Trent knocked timidly upon the door. The -stage was set to his liking. When he was bidden to enter his quick eye -took in everything. There, out of sight d'Aucquier skulked while he -prepared to hear his despicable history told to the woman who was his -victim. As for the woman she was defiant. She would probably elect to -follow a scoundrel who had fascinated her and leave a man behind whose -good name she had trailed in the dust. The situation was not a new one -but Trent was moved by it. Carr Faulkner had all his sympathy. He -registered a vow if ever he met d'Aucquier, or whatever his name might -be, to exact a punishment. - -"Excuse me," said Anthony Trent, stepping into the room, "but my train -leaves in twenty minutes--I live out in Long Island--and I've got to -catch it or else the missus will be worrying." - -Mrs. Faulkner looked at him frowning. She wanted to get this scene over. -He was a good looking piano tuner, she decided, and now his tragedy was -plain. He who had no doubt once aimed at the concert stage tuned pianos -to support a wife and home in Long Island! - -"I'll finish the job to-morrow morning." - -She waved him toward the door imperiously. Every moment she and her -husband spent in this room added to the chance of the hiding man's -discovery. - -"Why don't you go?" she cried. - -Anthony Trent permitted himself to smile faintly. - -"I've come for my coat, Ma'am," he said, and glanced at the raiment -d'Aucquier had thrown carelessly over a chair, the coat now laden with -such precious cigarettes. - -Carr Faulkner was growing impatient at this interruption. He could not -understand the look of anger on his wife's face. - -"Don't you understand," he exclaimed, "that the man merely wants to go -home and take his coat with him?" - -He turned to the deferential Trent. - -"All right, all right," Trent moved to the chair and took the garment. -At the door he turned about and bowed profoundly. - -In the lower hall he found the cynical butler whose ideas on matrimony -were so decided. He startled that functionary by thrusting into his hand -the ten dollars d'Aucquier had forced upon him. - -"What's this for?" demanded the butler. When piano tuners came with -gifts in their hands he was suspicious. "I don't understand this." He -observed that the affability which had made the tuner seem kin to -himself was vanished. A different man now looked at him. - -"It's for you," said Trent. "I'm not a piano tuner. I'm a detective and -I came here after that ex-valet who pretends to be a French nobleman." - -The butler breathed hard. - -"I 'ate that man, sir," he said simply. "I'd like to dot him one." - -"You'll be able to and that within five minutes," Trent assured him. "He -is concealed behind the lid of the grand piano I was supposed to repair. -Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner are both in the room but _he_ doesn't know Jules -is there. You take two footmen and yank him out and then if you want to -'dot him one' or two, there's your chance." - -The muscles of the butler's big shoulders swelled with anticipation. -"Where are you going?" he asked of Trent, now making for the front door. - -"To get the patrol wagon," said Anthony Trent. - -"How long will you be?" asked the man. - -"I shall be back in no time," Trent answered cryptically. - -Arrived in his quiet rooms he undid the box of cigarettes. At first he -thought he had been fooled for the top layer of cigarettes were -tobacco-filled and normal. - -But it was on the next row that Mrs. Carr Faulkner had expended her -trouble. Each one contained a new thousand dollar bill and their tint -enthralled him. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -ESPIONAGE AT CLOSE RANGE - - -CASHING a modest check at the Colonial bank one morning, Trent had -fallen in line with a queue at the paying teller's window. He made it a -point to observe what went on while he waited. He was not much -interested in bank robberies. To begin with the American Bankers' -Association is a vengeful society pursuing to the death such as mulct -its clients. Furthermore, a successful bank robbery, unless the work of -an inside man, needs careful planning and collaboration. - -On this particular morning Trent saw a stout and jocund gentleman push -his check across the glass entrance to the cashier's cave and received -without hesitation a large sum of money. He passed the time of day with -the official, climbed into a limousine and was whirled up Broadway. - -"Did yer see that?" a youth demanded who stood before Trent. - -"What?" he asked quietly. It was not his pose to be interested in other -of the bank's customers. - -"That guy took out twenty thousand dollars," the boy said, reverence in -his tone. - -"That's a lot of money," said Trent. - -"He lives well," said the lad. "I ought to know, he gets his groceries -from us and he only eats and drinks the best." - -"He looks like it," the other said genially. If the stout and jocund -gourmet had known what was in Trent's mind he would have hied him back -to the bank and redeposited his cash. "It's Rudolf Liebermann, isn't -it?" - -"That's Frederick Williams, and he lives on Ninety-third, near the -Drive." - -What additional information Trent wanted to know might be obtained from -other than this boy. To make many inquiries might, if Frederick Williams -were relieved of his roll, bring back the incident to the grocer's boy. - -Directly dusk fell Anthony Trent, in the evening garb of fashion, -crossed over to Riverside Drive and presently came to the heroic statue -of Jeanne d'Arc which stands at the foot of Ninety-third Street. By this -time he knew the license number of the Williams' limousine and the -address. It was one of those small residences of gray stone containing a -dozen rooms or so. Such houses, as he knew, were usually laid out on a -similar plan and he was familiar with it. - -It was very rarely that he made a professional visit to a house without -having a definite plan of attack carefully worked out. This was the -first time he sought to gain entrance to a strange house on the mere -chance of success. But the twenty thousand dollars in crisp notes -tempted him. In his last affair he had netted this sum in notes of a -similar denomination and he was superstitious enough to feel that this -augured well for to-night's success. - -Careful as ever, Trent had made his alibis in case of failure. In one of -his pockets was a pint flask of Bourbon, empty save for a dram of -spirit. In another was a slip of paper containing the name of the -house-holder who occupied a house with the same number as that of -Williams, but on Ninety-fifth Street. Once before he had saved himself -by this ruse. He had protested vigorously when detected by a footman -that he was merely playing a practical joke on his old college chum who -lived, as he thought, in this particular house, but was found to be on -the next block. And in this case the emptied whiskey flask and the -cheerful tipsiness of the amiable young man of fashion--Trent's most -successful pose--saved him. - -In his pockets nothing would be found to incriminate him. He knew well -the folly of carrying the automatic so beloved of screen or stage -Raffles. In the first place, the sudden temptation to murder in a tight -pinch, and in the second the Sullivan law. In the bamboo cane, carefully -concealed, were slender rods of steel whose presence few would suspect. -He had left such a cane in Senator Scrivener's Fifth Avenue mansion when -he was compelled to make an unrehearsed exit. Once he met the Senator -coming down the steps of the Union Club with this cane in his hand. He -chuckled to think what might be that worthy's chagrin to know he had -been carrying burglar's tools with him. - -As there was little light on the lower floor of Frederick Williams' -house, Trent let himself in cautiously. There was a dim hanging light -which showed that the Williams idea of furnishing was in massive bad -taste. At the rear of the hall were the kitchens. Under the swinging -door he could see a bright light. The stairs were wide and did not -creak. Carefully he ascended them and stood breathless in a foyer -between the two main reception-rooms. There were voices in the rear -room, which should, if Williams conformed to the majority of dwellers in -such houses, be the dining-room. Big doors shut out view and sound until -he crept nearer and peeped through a keyhole. He could see Williams -sitting in a Turkish rocker smoking a cigar. There were two other men -and all three chattered volubly in German. Unfortunately it was a tongue -of which the listener knew almost nothing. Reasonably fluent in French, -the comprehension of German was beyond him. There was a small safe in -the corner and it was not closed. Trent felt certain that in it reposed -those notes he had come for. - -In the corner of the foyer was a carven teakwood table with a glass top, -and on it was a large Boston fern. It would be easy enough to crouch -there unobserved. The only possibility of discovery was the remote -contingency that Williams and his friends might choose to use this -foyer. But Trent had seen that it was not furnished as a sitting-room. - -He had barely determined on his hiding place when he found the sudden -necessity to use it. Williams arose quickly and advanced to the door. -When he threw it open the path of light left the unbidden one completely -obscured. The three men passed by him and entered the drawing-room in -front. Trent caught a view of a luxuriously overfurnished room and a -grand piano. Then Williams began to play a part of a Brahms sonata so -well that Trent's heart warmed toward him. But his appreciation of the -master did not permit him to listen to the whole movement. He crept -cautiously from his cover and into the room the three had just vacated. -If there were other of Williams' friends or family here Trent might be -called upon to exercise his undoubted talents. One man he would not -hesitate to attack since his working knowledge of jiu-jitsu was beyond -the average. If there were two, attack would be useless in the absence -of a revolver. But if the coast were clear--ah, then, a competence, all -the golf and fishing he desired. There would be only the Countess to -deal with at his leisure. - -The room was empty, but _the safe was closed_! Williams was not devoid -of caution. A glance at the thing showed Trent that in an uninterrupted -half hour he could learn its secrets. But he could hardly be assured of -that at nine o'clock at night. His very presence in the room was fraught -with danger. The one door leading from it opened into a butler's pantry -from which a flight of stairs led into the kitchen part of the house. -Downstairs he could hear faucets running. A dumbwaiter offered a way of -escape if he were put to it. To the side of the dumbwaiter was a -zinc-lined compartment used for drying dishes. It was four feet long and -three in height and a shelf bisected it. This he took out carefully and -placed upon the floor of the compartment, making an ample space for -concealment. A radiator opened into it, giving the heat desired, and two -iron gratings in the doors afforded Trent the opportunity to overhear -what might be said. He satisfied himself that the doors opened -noiselessly. The burglar's rôle was not always an heroic one, he told -himself, and thought of the popular misconception of such activities. - -It must have been an hour later when he heard sounds in the adjoining -room. By this time he was fighting against the drowsiness induced by -the heat of his prison. - -The swinging door between the butler's pantry and the dining-room was -thrown open and Williams came in. He leaned over the staircase and -shouted something in German to some one in the kitchen, who answered him -in the same tongue. There was the sound below of locking and bolting the -doors. The servants had evidently been sent to bed. - -When Williams went back to the other room the door between did not swing -to by four or five inches. So far as Williams was concerned this -carelessness was to cost him more than he guessed. Even in his hiding -place the conversation was audible to Trent, although its meaning was -incomprehensible. - -He was suddenly awakened to a more vivid interest when he became aware -that it was now English that they were talking. There was a newcomer in -the room, a man with a nasal carrying voice and a prodigious brogue. - -"This, gentlemen," he heard Williams say, "is Mr. O'Sheill, who has done -so much good work for us and for the freedom of oppressed, starving, -shackled Ireland, which we shall free. I may tell Mr. O'Sheill that the -highest personages in the Fatherland weep bitter tears for Ireland's -wrongs." - -"That's all right," said the Sinn Feiner a trifle ungraciously, "but -what's behind yonder door?" - -For answer one of the other men flung it open, turned up the lights and -permitted Mr. O'Sheill to make his examination. Trent heard the man's -heavy tread as he descended the stairway and found at the bottom a -locked door. - -"You've got to be careful," O'Sheill said when he rejoined Williams and -the rest. "These damned secret service men are everywhere, they tell -me." - -"That is why we have rented a private house," one of the Germans -declared. "At an hotel privacy is impossible. We have had our -experiences." - -These scraps of conversation aroused Anthony Trent immediately. It -required only a cursory knowledge of the affairs of the moment for a -duller man than he to realize that he had come across the scent of one -of those plots which were so hampering his government in their -prosecution of the war. Very cautiously he crawled from his hiding place -and made his silent way to the barely opened door. - -O'Sheill was lighting a large cigar. His was a suspicious, dour face. -Williams, urbane and florid, was very patient. - -"That I do not tell you the names of my colleagues," he said, "is of no -moment. It is sufficient to say that you have the honor to be in the -presence of one of the most illustrious personages in my country." Here -he bowed in the direction of a small, thin, dapper man who did not -return the salutation. - -"I came for the money," said O'Sheill. - -"You came first for your instructions," snapped the illustrious -personage coldly. - -"That's so, yer Honor," O'Sheill answered. There was something menacing -in the tone of the other man and he recognized it. - -"This money," said Williams, "is given for very definite purposes and an -accounting will be demanded." - -"Ain't you satisfied with the way I managed it at Cork?" O'Sheill -demanded. - -"It was a beginning," Williams conceded. "Here is what you must do: -Wherever along the Irish coast the English bluejackets and the American -sailors foregather you must stir up bad blood. I do not pretend to give -you any more precise direction than this. Let the Americans understand -that the British call them cowards. Let the British think the same of -the Yankees. Let there be bitter street fights, not in obscure drinking -dens, but in the public streets in the light of day. I will see to it -that the news gets back here and let Americans have something to think -about when the next draft is raised. Find men in England to do what you -must do in your own country. Let there be black blood between Briton and -American from Belfast to Portsmouth. Let there be doubt and -recrimination so that preparations are hindered here." - -The man who passed as Williams looked venomous as he said this. The man -to whom he spoke, thinking in his ignorance that he was indeed helping -his native land instead of hurting it, and forgetful that in aiding the -enemies of America he was stabbing a country which had ever been a -faithful friend of Erin's, gave particulars of his operations which -Trent memorized as best he might. He was appalled to hear to what length -these men were prepared to go if only the good relations between the -Allies might be brought to naught. - -So engrossed was he with the importance of what he heard that the -passing of the large sum of money from Williams to the Sinn Feiner lost -much of its entrancing interest. Trent meant to have the money, but he -intended also to give the Department of Justice what help he could. - -It was not the first time that he had gone from one floor to another by -means of a dumbwaiter. It was never an easy operation and rarely a -noiseless one. In this instance he was fortunate in finding well-oiled -pulleys. It was only when he stepped out in the kitchen that he ran into -danger. There was a man asleep on a folding bed which had been drawn -across the door. To leave by the front door immediately was imperative. -Even were it possible to leave by a rear entrance he would find himself -in the little garden at the back and could only get out by climbing a -dozen fences. This would be to court observation and run unnecessary -risks. - -To invite electrocution by killing men was no part of Anthony Trent's -practice. It was plain that the servant was slumbering fitfully and the -act of stepping over him to freedom likely to awaken him instantly. Even -if he had the needed rope at hand binding and gagging a vigorous man was -at best a matter of noise and struggle. But something had to be done. He -must reach the street in time to follow O'Sheill. - -Superimposed on the bed's frame was a mattress and army blanket. -Directly behind the sleeper's head was a door which led, as Trent knew -from his knowledge of house design, to the cellar. It opened inward and -without noise. He bent quietly over the man, put his hands gently -beneath the mattress and then with a tremendous effort flung him, -mattress, army blanket and all, down the cellar stairs. There was a -clatter of breaking bottles, a cry that died away almost as it was -uttered, and then the door was shut on silence. - - * * * * * - -A little later Williams, feeling the need for iced beer and cheese -sandwiches, rang the bell for Fritz. When he received no answer he -descended to the kitchen with the intention of buffeting soundly a man -who could so forget his duties to his superiors. Mr. Williams found only -the bare bed. Fritz, with his bedding, had disappeared. - -A front door unlocked when instructions had been exact as to the -necessity of its careful fastening at all hours, brought uneasy -conjectures to his mind. It was only so long as he and his companions -were invested with the immunity of neutrality that he was of value to -his native land. Of late he had been conscious of Secret Service -activities. - -Obedient to his training, Williams instantly reported the matter to the -thin, acid-faced man under whose instructions he had been commanded to -act. - -"They have taken Fritz away," he cried. - -"Who?" demanded his superior. - -"The Secret Service," said Williams wildly. He was now beginning to -ascribe aggressive skill to a service at which he had formerly sneered. - -Going down to the kitchen, they were startled by a feeble cry from the -cellar. There they discovered the frightened Fritz, cut about the face -from the bottles he had broken in his fall. His injuries gave him less -concern than the admission he had slept at his post. He was, therefore, -of no aid to them. - -"I do not know," he repeated as they questioned him. "There must have -been many of them. One man alone could not do it." - -The thin man turned to Williams: "This O'Sheill is in danger. Arm -yourself and go to his hotel. It will go badly with you if harm comes to -him." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE SINN FEIN PLOT - - -FORTUNATELY for O'Sheill's peace of mind, he left the house before -Williams made his discovery. He stepped into the street painfully -conscious of the large sum of money he carried. It seemed to him that -every man looked at him suspiciously. A request for a match was met with -an oath and the two women who asked him the location of a certain hotel -drew back nervously at his scowl. - -He boarded the Elevated at the Ninety-third Street station and alighted -at Ninth Avenue and Forty-second Street, still glancing about him -suspiciously. It was not until he was in his room on the top floor of a -cheap and old hotel on the far West Side that he ventured to feel safe. -He sighed with relief as he stuffed a Dublin clay with malodorous shag. -Twenty thousand dollars! Four thousand pounds! Some would go to the -traitorous work he was employed to prosecute, but a lot of it would go -to satisfy private hates. And when it was exhausted there would be more -to come. It would be easy to conceal the notes about his person, and, -anyway, he reflected, he was not under suspicion. - -He was aroused from his reveries by the sudden, gentle tapping on his -door. After a few seconds of hesitation he called out: - -"What is it ye want?" - -The voice that answered him was strongly tinged with the German accent -to which he had recently become used. It will not be forgotten that -Anthony Trent had a genius for mimicry. - -"I'm from Mr. Williams," said the stranger gutturally. He had followed -O'Sheill with no difficulty. - -"What's your name?" O'Sheill demanded. - -"We won't give names," Trent reminded him significantly. "But I can -prove my identity. I was in the house at Ninety-third Street when you -came. The money was given you to stir up trouble in Ireland and -circulate rumors that will embarrass the British government and made bad -blood between English and American sailors. You have twenty -one-thousand-dollar bills and you put them in a green oilskin package." - -"That's right," O'Sheill admitted, "but what do you want?" - -He was filled with a vague uneasiness. This young man seemed so terribly -in earnest and his eyes darted from door to window and window to door as -though he feared interruption. - -"Mr. Williams sent me here to see if you had been followed. Directly you -went we had information from an agent of ours that your visit was known -to the Secret Service. Tell me, did any person speak to you on your way -here?" - -"No," answered O'Sheill, now thoroughly nervous by the other's anxiety. - -"Are you sure?" he was asked. - -"There was one fellow who asked me for a light, but I told him to go to -hell and get it." - -"Anything suspicious about him?" Trent demanded. - -"Not that I could see." - -"That will be good news for Mr. Williams," Trent returned. "Our agent -said the Hunchback was on the job." - -"Who's he?" O'Sheill said. - -"One of our most dangerous enemies," the younger man retorted. "He's a -man of forty, but looks younger. He had one shoulder higher than the -other and he limps when he walks. He's the man we're afraid of. I think -we have alarmed ourselves unnecessarily." - -O'Sheill's face was no longer merely uneasy. He was terror-stricken. - -"And I guess we haven't," he exclaimed. "_The man who asked me for a -light was a hunchback._ There was two women who asked me the way to some -blasted hotel. They looked at me as if they wanted never to forget my -face." - -"Stop a minute," said Trent gravely. "Answer me exactly about these -women. I want to know in what danger we all stand. The only two women -known by sight to us who are likely to be put on a case of this kind -wouldn't look like detectives. There's Mrs. Daniels and Miss Barrett. -They work as mother and daughter. Mrs. Daniels is gray-haired, tall and -slight, with a big nose for a woman and eyes set close together. When -she looks at you it seems as if the eyes were gimlets. The girl is -pretty, reddish hair and laughing eyes." Trent paused for a moment to -think of any other attributes he could ascribe to the unknown women he -had directed to their hotel just after O'Sheill had scowled at them a -half hour back. "And very white little teeth." - -"My God!" cried O'Sheill, his arms dropping at his side, "that's them to -the life! What's going to happen to me?" - -"If they find you with that money you'll be deported and handed over to -your British friends. How can you explain having twenty thousand -dollars? Mr. Williams thought of that, but he didn't actually know they -were on your trail. You must give me the money. I shan't be stopped. You -are to stay here. They may be here in five minutes or they may wait till -morning, but you may be certain that you won't be allowed to get away. -You must claim to be just over here to get an insight into labor -conditions." Mr. Williams' messenger chuckled. "I don't believe they can -get anything on you." - -"But if they do?" O'Sheill demanded. It seemed to him that the -stranger's levity was singularly ill-timed. - -"If they do," Trent advised, "you must remember that you're a British -subject still--whether you like it or not--and you have certain -inalienable rights. Immediately appeal to the British authorities. Give -the Earl of Reading some work to do. Make the Consul-General here stir -himself. Tell them you came over here to investigate labor conditions. -That story goes any time and just now it's fashionable. As an Irishman -you'll have far more consideration from the British Government than if -you were merely an Englishman." - -"But what about this money?" O'Sheill queried uneasily. - -"I'll take it," Trent told him. "If it's found on you nothing can do you -any good. You'll do your plotting in a British jail." - -O'Sheill was amazed at the careless manner in which this large sum was -thrust into the other man's pocket. Surely these accomplices of his -dealt in big things. - -"When you're ready to sail you can get it back," Trent continued. "That -can be arranged later. Meanwhile don't forget my instructions. Be -indignant when you are searched. Call on the British Ambassador." Trent -paused suddenly. An idea had struck him. "By the way," he went on, "you -have other things that would get you into trouble beside that money." - -"I know it," O'Sheill admitted. "What am I to do with them?" - -"I'm taking a chance if they are found on me," the younger man -commented. "But they are not after me. Give me what you have," he cried. - -Into this keeping the frightened O'Sheill confided certain letters which -later were to prove such an admirable aid to the United States -Government. - -It was as Trent turned to the door that he heard steps coming along the -passage as softly as the creaking boards permitted. - -He placed his fingers on his lips and enjoined silence. The furtive -sound completed O'Sheill's distress. He felt himself entrapped. Trent -saw him take from his hip pocket a revolver. - -"Not yet," he whispered. "Wait." - -He turned down the gas to a tiny glimmer. Through the transom the -stronger light in the passage was seen. It was but a slight effort for -the muscular Trent to draw himself up so that he could peer through the -transom at the man tapping softly at the door. - -Unquestionably it was Williams, and the hand concealed in his right hand -coat pocket was no doubt gripping the butt of an automatic. He was a man -of great physical strength, that Trent had noted earlier in the evening. -Although of enormous strength himself, and a boxer and wrestler, he knew -he would stand no chance if these two discovered his errand. There was -no other exit than the door. - -Anthony Trent stepped silently to O'Sheill's side. - -"It's the Hunchback," he whispered. "If once he gets those long fingers -around your throat you're gone. Listen to me. I'm going to turn the gas -out. Then I shall open the door. When he rushes in get him. If he gets -you instead I'll be on the top of him and we'll tie him up. Ready?" - -The prospect of a fight restored O'Sheill's spirits. Every line of his -evil face was a black menace to Friedrich Wilhelm outside. - -"Don't use your revolver," Anthony Trent cautioned. - -"Why?" O'Sheill whispered. - -"We can't stand police investigation," said the other. "Get ready now -I'm going to open the door." - -When he flung it open Williams stepped quickly in. O'Sheill maddened at -the very thought that any one imperiled his money, could only see, in -the dim light, an enemy. The first blow he struck landed fair and square -on the Prussian nose. On his part Williams supposed the attack a -premeditated one. O'Sheill was playing him false. The pain of the blow -awoke his own hot temper and made him killing mad. He sought to get his -strong arms about the Sinn Feiner's throat. - -It was while they thrashed about on the floor that Anthony Trent made -his escape. He closed the door of the room carefully and locked it from -the outside. Then he unscrewed the electric bulb that lit the hall. None -saw him pass into the street. It was one of his triumphant nights. - -Next morning at breakfast he found Mrs. Kinney much interested in the -city's police news as set forth in the papers. - -He was singularly cheerful. - -"What is it?" he demanded. "Some very dreadful crime?" - -"A double murder," she told him, "and the police don't seem to be able -to figure it out at all." - -Trent sipped his coffee gratefully. - -"What's strange about that?" he demanded. - -"I don't see," Mrs. Kinney went on, "what a gentleman like this Mr. -Williams seems to have been----" - -Anthony Trent put down his cup. - -"What's his other name?" he inquired. - -"Frederick," said the interested Mrs. Kinney. "Frederick Williams, a -Holland Dutch gentleman living in Ninety-third Street near the Drive. He -aided the Red Cross and bought Liberty Bonds. What I want to know is why -he went to a low place like the Shipwrights Hotel to see a man named -O'Sheill from Liverpool, England?" - -"A double murder?" he demanded. - -"Here it is," she returned, and showed him the paper. The two men had -been found dead, the report ran, under mysterious circumstances, but the -police thought a solution would quickly be found. Anthony Trent smiled -as he read of official optimism. He was inclined to doubt it. - -When Mrs. Kinney was out shopping he read through the documents he had -taken from O'Sheill. They seemed to him to be of prime importance. There -was a list of American Sinn Feiners implicating men in high positions, -men against whom so far nothing detrimental was known. Outlines of plots -were made bare to embroil and antagonize Britain and the United -States--allies in the great cause--and all that subtle propaganda which -had nothing to do with the betterment of prosperous Ireland but -everything to do with Prussian aggrandizement. It was a poisonous -collection of documents. - -The chief of the Department of Justice in New York was called up from a -public station and informed that a messenger was on his way with very -important papers. The chief was warned to make immediate search of the -premises at Ninety-third Street where a highly important German spy -might be captured. - -In the evening papers Anthony Trent was gratified to learn that the -highly-born, thin, haughty person was none other than the Baron von -Reisende who had received his _congé_ with Bernstorff and was thought to -be in the Wilmhelmstrasse. He had probably returned by way of Mexico. - -And certain politicians of the baser sort were sternly warned against -plotting the downfall of America's allies. Altogether Trent had done a -good night's work for his country. As for himself twenty thousand -dollars went far toward making the total he desired. - -Consistent success in such enterprises as his was leading him into a -feeling that he would not be run to earth as had been those lesser -practitioners of crime who lacked his subtlety and shared their secrets -with others. - -But there was always the chance that he had been observed when he -thought he was alone in some great house. Austin, the Conington Warren -butler, looked him full in the face on his first adventure. And that -other butler who served the millionaire whose piano he had wrecked -might, some day, place a hand on his shoulder and denounce him to the -world. Yet butlers were beings whose duties took them little abroad. -They did not greatly perturb him. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -ANTHONY TRENT INTERESTS HIMSELF IN POLICE GOSSIP - - -SO far as he knew, none suspected him. His face had been seen on one or -two occasions, but he was of a type common among young Americans of the -educated classes. Above middle height, slenderly fashioned but -wire-strong, he had a shrewd, humorous face with strongly marked -features. It might be that the nose was a trifle large and the mouth a -trifle tight, but none looking at him would say, "There goes a -criminal." They would say, rather, "There goes a resourceful young -business man who can rise to any emergency." - -Since Trent had calculated everything to a nicety, he knew he must, -during these harvesting years, deny himself the privilege of friendship -with other men or women. Too many of his gild had lost their liberty -through some errant desire to be confidential. This habit of solitude -was trying to a man naturally of a sociable nature, but he determined -that it could be cast from him as one throws away an old coat when he -was a burglar emeritus. - -That blessed moment had arrived. He even looked up an old editor friend, -the man who had first put into his mind that he could make more money at -burglary than in writing fiction. - -"It's good to see you again!" cried the editor. "I often wish you -hadn't been left money by that Australian uncle of yours, so that you -could still write those corking crook yarns for us. There was never any -one like you. I was talking about you at the Scribblers' Club dinner the -other night." - -Trent frowned. Publicity was a thing to avoid and this particular editor -had always been ready to sound his praise. The editor had once before -asked him to join this little club made up of professional writers. They -were men he would have delighted to know under other conditions. - -"Be my guest next Tuesday," the editor persisted. "I'm toastmaster and -the subject is 'Crime in Fiction.' I told the boys I'd get you to speak -if I possibly could. I'm counting on you. Will you do it?" - -It seemed a deliciously ironical thing. Here was an honest editor asking -the friend he did not know to be a master criminal to make an address on -crime in fiction. Trent laughed the noiseless laugh he had cultivated in -place of the one that was in reality the expression of himself. The -editor thought it a good sign. - -"Who are the other speakers?" Trent demanded. - -"Oppenheim Phelps for one. He's over here on a visit. His specialty is -high-grade international spy stuff, as you know. E. W. Hornung would be -the man to have if we could get him, but that's impossible. I've got -half a dozen others, but Phelps and you will be the drawing cards." - -"Put me down," Trent said genially, "but introduce me as a back number -almost out of touch with things but willing to oblige a pal." He laughed -again his noiseless laugh. - -Crosbeigh looked at him meditatively. Certainly Anthony Trent was -changed. In the old days, before he came into Australian money, he was -at times jocund with the fruitful grape, a good fellow, a raconteur, one -who had been popular at school and college and liked to stand well with -his fellows. But now, Crosbeigh reflected, he was changed. There was a -certain suspicion about him, a lack of trust in men's motives. It was -the attitude no doubt which wealth brought. The moneyless man can meet a -borrower cheerfully and need cudgel his mind for no other excuse than -his poverty. - -Crosbeigh was certain Trent had a lot of money for the reason he had -actually refused four cents a word for what he had previously received -only two cents. But the editor admired his old contributor and was glad -to see him again. - -"I'm going to spring a surprise on you," Crosbeigh declared, "and I'm -willing to bet you'll enjoy it." - -"I hope so," Trent returned, idly, and little dreamed what lay before -him. - -The dinner was at a chop house and the food no worse than the run of -city restaurants. Anthony Trent, who had fared delicately for some time, -put up with the viands readily enough for the pleasure of being again -among men of the craft which had been his own. - -Oppenheim Phelps was interesting. He was introduced as a historian who -had made his name at fiction. It was a satisfaction, he said, to find -that modern events had justified him. The reviewers had formerly treated -him with patronizing airs; they had called his secret diplomacy and -German plot-stuff as chimeras only when they had shown themselves to be -transcripts, and not exaggerated ones at that, of what had taken place -during the last few years. - -Anthony Trent sat next to the English novelist and liked him. It brought -him close to the war to talk to a man whose home had been bombed from -air and submarine. And Phelps was also a golfer and asked Trent, when -the war was over, to visit his own beloved links at Cromer. - -It had grown so late when the particularly prosy member of the club had -made his yawn-bringing speech, that Crosbeigh came apologetically to -Trent's side. - -"I'm afraid, old man," he began, "that it's too late for any more -speeches except the surprise one. A lot of us commute. Do you mind -speaking at our next meeting instead?" - -"Not a bit," Trent said cheerfully. But he felt as all speakers do under -these circumstances that his speech would have been a brilliant one. He -had coined a number of epigrams as other speakers had plowed laboriously -along their lingual way and now they were to be still-born. - -But he soon forgot them when Crosbeigh announced the surprise speaker. - -"I have been very fortunate," Crosbeigh began, "in getting to-night a -man who knows more of the ways of crooks than any living authority. -Gentlemen, you all know Inspector McWalsh!" - -"Well, boys," said the Inspector, "I guess a good many of you know me by -name." He had risen to his full height and looked about him genially. He -had imbibed just the right amount to bring him to this stage. Three -highballs later, he would be looking for insults but he was now ripe -with good humor. He had come because Conington Warren had asked him to -oblige Crosbeigh. For writers on crime he had the usual contempt of the -professional policeman and he was fluent in his denunciation. "You -boys," he went on, "make me smile with your modern scientific criminals, -the guys what use chemistry and electricity and x-rays and so forth. -I've been a policeman now for thirty years and I never run across any of -that stuff yet." - -Inspector McWalsh poured his unsubtle scorn on such writings for ten -full minutes. But he added nothing to the Scribblers' knowledge of his -subject. - -It chanced that the writer he had taken as his victim was a guest at the -dinner. This fictioneer pursued the latest writings on physicist and -chemical research so that he might embroider his tales therewith. -Personally Trent was bored by this artificial type of story; but as -between writer and policeman he was always for the writer. - -The writer was plainly angry but the gods had not blessed him with a -ready tongue and he was prepared to sit silent under McWalsh's scorn. -Some mischievous devil prompted Anthony Trent to rise to his aid. It was -a bold thing to do, to draw the attention of the man who had been in -charge of the detectives sent to run him to earth, but of late -excitement had been lacking. - -"Inspector McWalsh," he commenced, "possesses precisely that type of -mind one would expect to find in a successful policeman. He has that -absolute absence of imagination without which one cannot attain his rank -in the force. All he has done in his speech is to pour his scorn of a -certain type of crime story on its author. As writers we are sorry if -Inspector McWalsh never heard of the Einthoven string galvanometer upon -which the solution of the story he ridicules rests, yet we know it to -exist. Were I a criminal instead of a writer I should enjoy to cross -swords with men who think as the Inspector does. I could outguess them -every time." - -"Who is this guy?" Inspector McWalsh demanded loudly. - -"Anthony Trent," Mr. Crosbeigh whispered. "He wrote some wonderful crook -stories a few years ago dealing with a crook called Conway Parker." - -"What one would expect to hear from a man with McWalsh's opportunities -to deal with crime is some of the difficulty he experiences in his work. -There must be difficulty. We know by statistics what crimes are -committed and what criminals brought to justice. What happens to the -crooks who remain safe from arrest by reason of superior skill? I'll -tell you, gentlemen. They live well and snap their fingers at men like -the last speaker. There is such a thing as fatty degeneration of the -brain----" - -Inspector McWalsh rose to his feet with a roar. "I didn't come here to -be insulted." - -"I am not insulting a guest," Trent went on equably, "I am asking him to -tell us interesting things of his professional work instead of giving -his opinion on modern science. I met McWalsh years ago when I covered -Mulberry Street for the _Morning Leader_. He was captain then. Let him -entertain us with some of the reasons why the Ashy Bennet murderer was -never caught. You remember, gentlemen, that Bennet was shot down on -Park Row at midday. Then the thoroughbred racer Foxkeen was poisoned in -his stall at Sheepshead Bay. Why was that crime never punished? I -remember a dozen others where the police have been beaten. Coming down -to the present time, there is the robbery of the house of the genial -sportsman Inspector McWalsh tells us he is proud to call his friend, -Conington Warren. How was it the burglar or burglars were allowed to -escape?" Trent was enjoying himself hugely. "I have a right to demand -protection of the New York police. In my own humble home I have -valuables bequeathed me by an uncle in Australia which are never safe -while such men as snap their fingers at the police are at large. Let -Inspector McWalsh tell us why his men fail. It will help us, perhaps, to -understand the difficulties under which they labor. It may help us to -appreciate the silent unadvertised work of the police. The Inspector is -a good sport who loves a race horse and a good glove fight as much as I -do myself. I assure him he will make us grateful if he will take the -hint of a humble scribbler." - -The applause which followed gratified the Inspector enormously. He -thought it was evidence of his popularity, a tribute to his known -fondness for the race tracks. His anger melted. - -"Boys," he shouted, rising to his feet and waving a Larranaga to the -applauders, "I guess he's right and I hope the fellow who writes that -scientific dope will accept my word that it wasn't personal. Of course -we do have difficulties. I admit it. I had charge of that Ashy Bennet -murder and I'd give a thousand dollars to be able to put my hand on the -man who done it. As to Foxkeen I had a thousand on him to win at -eight-to-one and when he was poisoned the odds were shortening every -minute so you can guess I was sore on the skunk who poisoned him. The -police of all countries fail and they fail the most in countries where -people have most sympathy with crime. Boys, you know you all like a -clever crook to get away with it. It's human nature. We ain't helped all -we could be and you know it. We, 'gentlemen of the police,'" he quoted -Austin's words glibly, "we make mistakes sometimes. We get the ordinary -crook easy enough. If you don't believe me get a permit to look over -Sing Sing. The crimes the last speaker mentioned were committed by -clever men. They get away with it. The clever ones do get away with -things for a bit. But if the guy who croaked Bennet tried murder again -the odds are we'd gather him in. Same with the man or men who put -strychnine in Foxkeen's oats. The clever ones get careless. That's our -opportunity." - -The Inspector lighted a new cigar, sipped his highball and came back to -his speech. - -"Boys, I'm not rich--no honest cop is--but I'd give a lot of money to -get my hands on a gentleman crook who's operating right now in this -city. I've got a list of seven tricks I'm certain he done himself. He's -got technique." Inspector McWalsh turned purple red, "Dammit, he made me -an accomplice to one of his crimes. Yes, sir, he made me carry a vase -worth ten thousand dollars out of Senator Scrivener's house on Fifth -Avenue and hand it to him in his taxi. He had a silk hat, a cane and a -coat and he asked me to hold the vase for a moment while he put his coat -on. I thought he was a friend of the Senator so I trotted down the -hall--there was a big reception on--down the steps past my own men on -watch for this very crook or some one like him, and handed it through -the window. None of my men thought of questioning him. Why did he do it -you wonder. He did it because he thought some one _might_ have seen him -swipe it. The thing was thousands of years old and if any of you find it -Senator Scrivener stands ready to give you five thousand dollars reward. -I believe he took the----" Inspector McWalsh stopped. He thought it -wiser to say no more. "That's about all now," he concluded. Then with a -flourish he added, "Gentlemen, I thank you." - -McWalsh sat down with the thunder of applause ringing gratefully in his -ears. And none applauded more heartily than Anthony Trent. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -AMBULANCES AND DIAMONDS - - -THERE was an opportunity later on to visit the Scribblers again. -Crosbeigh begged him to come as he desired a full attendance in honor of -an occasion unique in the club's history. - -It seemed that some soldier members of the club, foregathering in New -York, offered the opportunity for a meeting that might never recur. The -toastmaster was a former officer and the speakers were men who had -fought through the ghastly early years of the war before the United -States came into it. - -It happened that Trent had known the toastmaster, Captain Alan Kent, -when the two had been newspaper cubs together. In those days Kent had -been an irresponsible, happy-go-lucky youngster, liked by all for his -carefree disposition. To-day, after three years of war, he was a sterner -man, in whose eyes shone steadily the conviction of the cause he had -espoused. War had purged the dross from him. - -"You boys, here," he said, "haven't suffered enough. You haven't seen -nations in agony as we have. The theater of war is still too remote. The -loss of a transport wakens you to renewed effort for a moment and then -you get back to thinking of other things, more agreeable things, and -speculate as to when the war will be over. I've spoken to rich men who -seem to think they've done all that is required of them by purchasing a -few Liberty Bonds. They must be bought if we are to win the war, but -there's little of the personal element of sacrifice in merely buying -interest-bearing bonds." - -He launched into a description of war as he had seen it, dwelling on the -character it developed rather than the horrors he had suffered, horrors -such as are depicted in the widely circulated book of Henri Barbusse. -This mention of negative patriotism rather disturbed Anthony Trent. All -he had done was to buy Liberty Bonds. And here was Alan Kent, who had -lived through three years of hell to come back full of courage and -cheer, and anxious, when his health was reestablished, to leave the -British Service and enroll in the armies of America. It was not -agreeable for him to think how he had passed those three years. - -He was awakened from these unpleasant thoughts by the applause which -followed Kent's speech. The next speaker was an ambulance driver, who -made a plea for more and yet more ambulances. - -"Lots of you people here," he said, "seem to think that when once a -battery of ambulances are donated they are there till the war is over. -They suffer as much as guns or horses. The Huns get special marks over -there for potting an ambulance, and they're getting to be experts at the -game. I've had three of Hen. Ford's little masterpieces shot under me, -so to speak. I'm trying to interest individuals in giving ambulances. -They're not very expensive. You can equip one for $5,000. Men have said -to me, 'What's the use of one ambulance?' I tell them as I tell you that -the one they may send will do its work before it's knocked out. It may -pick up a brother or pal of a man in this room. It may pick up some of -you boys even, for some of you are going. God, it makes me tired this -cry of what's the use of 'one little ambulance.'" - -When the dinner was over Trent renewed his acquaintance with Captain -Kent and was introduced to Lincoln, the Harvardian driver of an -ambulance. Over coffee in the Pirates' Den Lincoln told them more of his -work. - -"This afternoon," he said, "I had tea with the Baroness von Eckstein. -You know who she is?" - -Trent nodded. The Baroness was the enormously wealthy widow of a St. -Louis brewer who had married a Westphalian noble and hoped thereby to -get into New York and Washington society. The Baron had been willing to -sell his title--not an old one--for all the comforts of a wealthy home. -He had become naturalized and was not suspected by the Department of -Justice of treachery. His one ambition seemed to be to drink himself to -death on the best cognac that could be obtained. This potent brew, taken -half and half with champagne, seemed likely to do its work. It was -rumored that his wife did not hinder him in this interesting pursuit. - -"I sat behind him at a theater once," Trent admitted. "He's a thin -little man with an enormous head and a strong Prussian accent." He -resisted the temptation to mimic the Baron as he could have done. He -could not readily banish his professional caution. - -"I tried to get the Baroness to buy and equip four ambulances," Lincoln -went on. "It would only have cost her twenty thousand dollars--nothing -to her--but she refused." - -"Before we went into the war," Captain Kent reminded him, "she was -strongly pro-German." - -"She's had enough sense to stop that talk in New York," Lincoln went on. -"She's still trying to break into the Four Hundred and you've got to be -loyal to your country for that, thank God!" - -"I thought she was in St. Louis," Trent observed. - -"She's taken a house in town," Lincoln told him. "The Burton Trent -mansion on Washington Square, North. Took it furnished for three months. -She had to pay like the deuce for the privilege. _Gotham Gossip_ -unkindly remarks that she did it so some of the Burton Trents' friends -may call on her, thinking they are visiting the Trents. It's the nearest -she'll ever get to high society. It made me sick to hear her hard luck -story. Couldn't give me a measly twenty thousand dollars because of -income tax and high cost of living and all that sort of bunk, while she -had a hundred thousand dollars in diamonds on her fat neck. I felt like -pulling them off her." - -Anthony Trent pricked up his ears at this. - -"I didn't know she had a necklace of that value," he mused. - -"I guess you don't know much about the fortunes these millionaire women -hang all over 'em," said Lincoln. Lincoln had an idea the other man was -a bookish scholar, a collector of rare editions, one removed from -knowledge of society life. - -"That must be it," Trent agreed. He wondered if another man in all -America had so intimate a knowledge of the disposition of famous gems. -"So she won't give you any money for ambulances?" - -"It's known she subscribed largely to the German Red Cross before we -got into the war. Leopards don't change their spots easily, as you know. -It was one of her chauffeurs at her country place near Roslyn who rigged -up a wireless and didn't know he was doing anything the government -disapproved of. His mistress lent him the money to equip the thing and -she didn't know she ought not to have done it. I tell you I felt like -pulling that necklace off her fat old neck. Wouldn't you feel that way?" - -"It might make me," Trent admitted, "a little envious." - - * * * * * - -On the whole, Trent enjoyed his first evening of emancipation immensely. -Particularly glad was he to meet his old friend, Alan Kent, again. The -repressed life he had led made him more than ever susceptible to the -hearty friendship of such men as he had met. - -With some of them he made arrangements to go to a costume dance, a -Greenwich Village festival, at Webster Hall, on the following evening. -He did not know that Captain Kent was attending less as one who would -enjoy the function socially than an emissary of his government. It was -known that many of the villagers had not registered. Some had spoken -openly against the draft and others were suspected of pro-German -tendencies that might be dangerous. It was not a commission Kent cared -about, but it was a time in the national history where old friendships -must count for naught. Treason must be stamped out. - -It was not until midnight that Trent dropped into Webster Hall. It was -the nearest approach to the boulevard dances that New York ever saw. The -costumes were gorgeous, some of them, but for the greater part quaint -and bizarre. As a Pierrot he was inconspicuous. There were a number of -men he knew from the Scribblers' Club. He greeted Lincoln with -enthusiasm. He liked the lad. He envied him his record. It was while he -was talking to him that a gorgeously dressed woman seized Lincoln's -hands as one might grasp those of an old and dear friend. - -"Naughty boy," she said playfully. "Why haven't you asked me to dance?" - -"I feared I wasn't good enough for you," Lincoln lied with affable -readiness. "You dance like a professional." - -While this badinage went on Trent gazed at the woman with idle -curiosity. Her enameled face, penciled eyebrows and generally careful -make-up made her look no more than five-and-forty. Her hair was -henna-colored, with purple depths in it. She was too heavy for her -height and her eyes were bright with the light that comes in cocktail -glasses. She had reached the fan-tapping, coquettish, slightly amorous -stage. Her bold eyes soon fell on Anthony Trent, who was a far more -personable man than Lincoln. - -"Who is your good-looking friend?" she demanded. - -Lincoln was bound to make the introduction. From his manner Trent -imagined he was not overpleased at having to do so. - -"Mr. Anthony Trent--the Baroness von Eckstein," he said. - -The Baroness instantly put her bejeweled hand within Trent's arm. - -"I am sure you dance divinely," she cooed. - -Lincoln was a little disappointed at the readiness with which the older -man answered. - -"If you will dance with me I shall be inspired," said Trent. - -"Very banal," Lincoln muttered as the two floated away from him. - -"I'm so glad to be rescued from Lincoln," he told her. "He is so earnest -and seems to think I have an ambulance in every pocket for him." - -"This begging, begging, begging is very tiresome," the Baroness -admitted. She wished she might say exactly what she and her noble -husband felt concerning it. She had understood that some of these -artists and writers in the village were exceedingly liberal in their -views. "Mrs. Adrien Beekman has been bothering me about giving -ambulances all this afternoon." - -"She is most patriotic," he smiled, "but boring all the same." - -"I suppose you are one of these delightfully bad young men who say and -do dreadful things," she hazarded, a little later. - -"I am both delightful and bad," he admitted, "and a number of the things -I have done and shall do are dreadful." - -"I am afraid of you," she cried coquettishly. - -There was about her throat a magnificent necklace, evidently that of -which Lincoln had spoken at the Scribblers' dinner. It was worth perhaps -half of what the ambulance man had said. The stones were set in -platinum. - -"I wonder you are not afraid of wearing such a magnificent necklace -here," he said later. - -"Are you so dangerous as that?" she retorted. - -"Worse," he answered. - -She looked at him curiously. The Baroness liked young and good-looking -men. Trent knew perfectly well what was going on in her mind. He had met -women of this type before; women who could buy what they wanted and need -not haggle at the price. Her eyes appraised him and she was satisfied -with what she saw. - -"I believe you are just as bad as you pretend to be," she declared. - -"Do I disappoint you?" he demanded. - -"Of course," she laughed, "I shall have to reform you. I am very good at -reforming fascinating man-devils like you. You must come and have tea -with me one afternoon." - -"What afternoon?" he asked. - -"To-morrow," she said, "at four." - -If she had guessed with what repulsion she had inspired Trent she would -have been startled. She was a type he detested. - -Later he said: - -"Isn't it unwise of you to wear such a gorgeous necklace at a mixed -gathering like this?" - -"If it were real it would be," she answered. "Don't tell any one," she -commanded, "but this is only an imitation. The real one is on my -dressing table. This was made in the Rue de la Paix for me and only an -expert could tell the difference and then he'd have to know his -business." - -"What are you frowning at?" he demanded when he saw her gaze directed -toward a rather noisy group of newcomers. - -"These are my guests," she whispered. "I'd forgotten all about them. -Doesn't that make you vain? I shall have to look after them. Later on -they are all coming over to the house to have a bite to eat." She -squeezed his hand. "You'd better come, too." - -The Baroness was not usually so reckless in her invitations. She had -learned it was not being done in those circles to which she aspired. But -to-night she was unusually merry and there was something about Trent's -keen, hawk-like type which appealed to her. Lincoln, she reflected, came -of a good Boston family with houses in Beacon Street and Pride's -Crossing, and his friend _must_ be all right. - - * * * * * - -No sooner had she moved toward her guests than Trent made his way to the -street. Over his costume he wore a long black cloak which another than -he had hired. Very few people were abroad. There was a slight fog and -those who saw him were in no way amazed. Webster Hall dances had -prepared the neighborhood for anything. - -He was not long in coming to Washington Square. It was in the block of -houses on the north side that he was specially interested. From the -other side of the road he gazed up at the Burton Trent house. Then going -east a little, he came to the door of the only apartment house in the -block. It was not difficult for him to manipulate the lock. Quietly he -climbed to the top of the house until he came to a ladder leading to the -door on the roof. - -A few feet below him he could see the roof of the neighboring house. To -this he dropped silently and walked along until the square skylight of -the Burton Trent mansion was at hand. The bars that held the aperture -were rusted. It required merely the exercise of strength to pry one of -them loose. Underneath him was darkness. Since Trent had not come out -originally on professional business, he was without an electric torch. -He had no idea how far the drop would be. Very carefully he crawled in, -and, hanging by one hand, struck a match. He dropped on to the floor of -an attic used mainly for the storage of trunks. - -The door leading from the room was unlocked and he stepped out into a -dark corridor. Looking over the balustrade, he could see that the floor -below was brilliantly lighted. From an article in a magazine devoted to -interior decoration he had learned the complete lay-out of the -residence. He knew, for example, that the servants slept in the "el" of -the house which abutted on the mews behind. Ordinarily he would have -expected them to be in bed by this time. But the Baroness had told him -she had guests coming in. There would inevitably be some servants making -preparations. They would hardly have business on the second or third -floors of the house. The Burton Trents, who had let their superb home as -a war-economy measure, would never allow any alteration of the -arrangement of their wonderful furniture. And the Baroness would hardly -be likely to venture to set her taste against that of a family she -admired and indeed envied. It was therefore probable that the Baroness -occupied the splendid sleeping chamber on the second floor front, an -apartment to which the writer on interior decoration had devoted several -pages. - -His borrowed cloak enveloping him, he descended the broad stairs until -he stood at the entrance of the room he sought. It was indeed a -magnificent place. His artistic sense delighted in it. Its furniture had -once been in the sleeping room of a Venetian Doge. It had cost a fortune -to buy. - -The dressing room leading from it was lighted more brilliantly. There -was a danger that the Baroness's maid might be there awaiting the return -of her mistress. - -Peeping through the half-opened door, he satisfied himself that no maid -was there. On the superb dressing table with its rich ornaments he could -see a large gold casket, jewel-encrusted, which probably hid the stones -he had come to get. - -Swiftly he crossed the soft Aubusson carpet and came to the table. He -was far too cautious to lay hands on the metal box straightaway. -Although he was nameless and numberless so far as the police were -concerned, he was not anxious to leave finger-prints behind. He knew -that in all robberies such as he intended the police carefully preserve -the finger-prints amongst the records of the case and hope eventually to -saddle the criminal with indisputable evidence of his theft. Usually -Parker wore the white kid gloves that go with full evening dress. -To-night he was without them. He was also in the habit of carrying a -tube of collodion to coat the finger-tips and defy the finger-printers. -This, too, he was without since his adventure was an unpremeditated one. - -While he was wondering how to set about his business, he was startled by -a sound behind him. From the cover of a _chaise longue_ at the far end -of the room a small, thin man raised himself. Trent knew in a moment it -was the Baron von Eckstein. He relaxed his tense attitude and walked -with a friendly smile to the other man. He had mentally rehearsed the -rôle he was to play. But the Baron surprised him. - -"Hip, hip, 'ooray!" hiccoughed the aristocrat. - -There was not a doubt as to his condition. He swayed as he tried to sit -up straighter. His eyes were glazed with drink. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE BARON LENDS A HAND - - -"Hip, hip, 'ooray!" said the Baron again, and sank back into bibulous -slumber. By his side on a tray was a half-emptied bottle of liqueur -cognac and an open bottle of champagne. He had evidently been consuming -over-many champagne and brandy highballs. Anthony Trent considered him -for a few moments in silence. He saw a way out of his difficulties and a -certain ironical method of fooling investigation which pleased him more -than a little. - -In a tall tumbler he mixed brandy and champagne--half and half--and -poked the little Baron in the ribs. The familiar sight of being offered -his favorite tipple made the trembling hand seize the glass. The -contents was absorbed greedily, and the Baron fell back on the _chaise -longue_. - -The well-worn phrase "dead to the world" alone describes the condition -of the Baron, who had married a brewery. Trent raised the man--he could -have weighed no more than a hundred pounds--in his strong arms and -carried him across to the dressing table. And with the Baron's limp -hands he opened the jewel case. Therefrom he extracted a necklace of -diamonds set in platinum. What else was there he did not touch. He had a -definitely planned course of action in view. The Baron's recording -fingers closed the box. It would be as pretty a case of finger-prints -as ever gladdened the heart of a central-office detective. The Baron was -next carried to the _chaise longue_. He would not wake for several -hours. It would have been quite easy for Trent to make his escape -undetected. But there was something else to be done first. He locked the -door of the Venetian bedroom and then took up the telephone receiver. -His carefully trained memory recorded the accent and voice of the Baron -von Eckstein as he had heard it during an evening at the theater. - -He called a telephone number. Fortunately it was a private wire -connecting with the central. - -"I wish to speak to Mrs. Adrien Beekman," he said when at length there -was an answer to his call. - -"She is in bed," a sleepy voice returned. "She can't be disturbed." - -"She must be," said Trent, mimicking the Baron. "It is a matter of vast -importance. Tell her a gentleman wishes to present her ambulance fund -with a large sum of money. To-morrow will be too late." - -"I'll see what can be done," said the voice. "That's about the only -matter I dare disturb her on. Hold the wire." - -"Madam," said Trent a minute later, "it is the Baron von Eckstein who -has the honor to speak with you." - -"An odd hour to choose," returned Mrs. Adrien Beekman with no -cordiality. - -"I wish to make reparation, Madam," the pseudo Baron flung back. "This -afternoon you talked to my wife, the Baroness, about your ambulances." - -"And found her not interested in the least," Mrs. Beekman said, a -little crossly. So eminent a leader of society as she was not accustomed -to refusal of a donation when asked of rich women striving for social -recognition. - -"We have decided that your cause is one which should have met a more -generous response. I have been accused of being disloyal. That is false, -Madam. My wife has been attacked as pro-German. That is also false. To -prove our loyalty we have decided to send you a diamond necklace. -Convert this into money and buy what ambulances you can." - -"Do you mean this?" said the astonished Mrs. Adrien Beekman. - -"I am never more serious," retorted the Baron. - -"What value has it?" she asked next. - -"You will get fifty thousand dollars at least," he said. - -"Ten ambulances!" she cried. "Oh, Baron, how very generous! I'm afraid -I've cherished hard feelings about you both that have not been -justified. How perfectly splendid of you!" - -"One other thing," said the Baron, "I am sending this by a trusted -messenger at once. Please see that some one reliable is there to receive -it." - - * * * * * - -It was safer, Trent thought, to gain the Square over the roofs and down -the stairways of the apartment house. It was now raining and hardly a -soul was in view. The Adrien Beekman house was only a block distant. -They were of the few who retained family mansions on the lower end of -Fifth Avenue. - -He knocked at the Beekman door and a man-servant opened it. In the -shadows the man could only see the dark outline of the messenger. - -"I am the Baron von Eckstein," he said, still with his carefully -mimicked accent. "This is the package of which I spoke to your -mistress." - - * * * * * - -It seemed, when he got back to Webster Hall, that none had missed him. -The first to speak was the Baroness. - -"We are just going over to the house," she said cordially. - -"I don't want to share you," he said, smiling, "with all these others. -I'd rather come to-morrow at four. May I?" - -At four on the next day Anthony Trent, dressed in the best of taste as a -man of fashion and leisure, ascended the steps to the Burton Trent home -and wondered, as others had done before him, at the amazing fowl which -guarded its approach. - -He was kept waiting several minutes. From the distant reception rooms he -heard acrimonious voices. One was the Baron's and it pleased him to note -that he had caught its inflections so well the night before. The other -voice was that of his new friend, the Baroness. Unfortunately the -conversation was in German and its meaning incomprehensible. - -When at last he was shown into a drawing room he found the Baroness -highly excited and not a little indignant. She was too much overwrought -to take much interest in her new acquaintance. Almost she looked as -though she wished he had not come. Things rarely looked so rosy to the -Baroness as they did after a good dinner and it was but four o'clock. - -"What has disturbed you?" he asked. - -"Everything," she retorted. "Mainly my husband. Tell me, if you were a -woman and your husband, in a drunken fit, gave away a diamond necklace -to an enemy would you be calm about it?" - -"Has that happened?" he demanded. - -"It has," she snapped. "You remember I told you at the dance I had left -the original necklace at home for safety?" - -"I believe you did mention it," he said, meditating. - -"I'd much better have worn it, Mr. Trent. Everybody knows the Baron's -passion is for cognac and champagne. No man since time began has ever -drunk so much of them. When we got back here last night we had a gay and -festive time. It was almost light when I went to my room and found the -necklace gone. I sobered the Baron and he could give absolutely no -explanation. He said he had slept in the dressing room to guard the -jewels. That was nonsense. He came there to worry my maid. She went to -bed and left him drinking. The police came in and took all the servants' -finger-prints and tried to fasten the thing on them. There were marks on -the jewel case where some one's hands had been put. I offered a reward -of five thousand dollars for any one who could point out the man or -woman who had taken the necklace." - -Trent kept his countenance to the proper pitch of interest and sympathy. -It was not easy. - -"What have the police found?" - -"Wait," the Baroness commanded, "you shall hear everything. This morning -I received a letter from Mrs. Adrien Beekman. You know who she is, of -course. She thanked me, rather patronizingly, for giving my diamond -necklace to her Ambulance Fund. She said she had sold it to a Mexican -millionaire for fifty thousand dollars, enough to buy ten ambulances." - -"How did she get the necklace?" Trent asked seriously. - -"That husband of mine," she returned. "The Baron did it. I can only -think that in his maudlin condition he remembered what I had told him at -dinner about being bothered by the Beekman woman for a cause I'm not -very much in sympathy with. There is no other explanation. It all fits -in. Actually he took the diamonds to the Beekman place himself. I can't -do anything. I dare not tell the facts or I should be laughed out of New -York." - -"Mrs. Adrien Beekman is very influential," he reminded her, choking back -his glee, "it may prove worth your while." - -"She hates me," the Baroness said vindictively. "I've never been so -upset in my life. You haven't heard all. There's worse. One of my -servants is trying to get into the Army and Navy Finger-printing Bureau. -She's made finger-prints of every one in the house--me included--from -glasses or anything we've touched. It was the Baron's finger-prints on -the jewel case, as the police found out, too, and I've got to pay her -five thousand dollars reward!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE MOUNT AUBYN RUBY - - -IT was while Trent was shaving that the lamp fell. He started, blessed -the man who invented safety razors, that he had not gashed himself, and -went into his library to see what had happened. - -Mrs. Kinney, his housekeeper, was volubly apologetic. - -"I was only dusting it," she explained, "when it came down. I think it's -no more than bent." - -It was a hanging lamp of Benares brasswork, not of much value, but Trent -liked its quaint design and the brilliant flashing of the cut colored -glass that embellished it. Four eyes of light looked out on the world -when the lamp was lit. White, green, blue and red, eyes of the size of -filbert nuts. - -He stooped down and picked up the shattered red glass. It was the sole -damage done by Mrs. Kinney's activity. - -"It will cost only a few cents to have it repaired," he commented, and -went back to the bathroom, and speedily forgot the whole matter. - -At breakfast Anthony Trent admitted he was bored. There had been little -excitement in his recent work. The niceness of calculation, the careful -planning and dextrous carrying out of his affairs had netted him a great -deal of money with very little risk. There had been risk often enough -but not within the past few months. His thoughts went back to some of -his more noteworthy feats, and he smiled. He chuckled at the episode of -the bank president whom he had given in charge for picking his pocket -when he had just relieved the financier of the choicest contents of his -safe. - -Trent's specialty was adroit handling of situations which would have -been too much for the ordinary criminal. He had an aplomb, an ingenuous -air, and was so diametrically opposed to the common conception of a -burglar that people had often apologized to him whose homes he had -looted. - -It was his custom to read through two of the leading morning papers -after breakfast. It was necessary that he should keep himself fully -informed of the movements of society, of engagements, divorces and -marriages. It was usually among people of this sort that he operated. To -the columns devoted to lost articles he gave special attention. More -than once he had seen big rewards offered for things that he had -concealed in his rooms. And although the comforting phrase, "No -questions asked" invariably accompanied the advertisement, he never made -application for the reward. - -In this, Trent differed from the usual practitioner of crime. When he -had abandoned fiction for a more diverting sport he had formulated -regulations for his professional conduct drawn up with extraordinary -care. It was the first article of his faith under no circumstances to go -to a "fence" or disposer of stolen goods, or to visit pawnshops. It is -plain to see such precautions were wise. Sooner or later the police get -the "fence" and with him the man's clientèle. Every man who sells to a -"fence" puts his safety in another's keeping, and Anthony Trent was -minded to play the game alone. - -As to the pawnshops, daily the police regulations expose more -searchingly the practices of those who bear the arms of old Lombardy -above their doors. The court news is full of convictions obtained by the -police detailed to watch the pawnbrokers' customers. It was largely on -this account that Trent specialized on currency and remained unknown to -the authorities. - -On this particular morning the newspapers offered nothing of interest -except to say that a certain Italian duke, whose cousin had recently -become engaged to an American girl of wealth and position, was about to -cross the ocean and bear with him family jewels as a wedding gift from -the great house he represented. Methodically Trent made a note of this. -Later he took the subway downtown to consult with his brokers on the -purchase of certain oil stocks. - -He had hardly taken his seat when Horace Weems pounced upon him. This -Weems was an energetic creature, by instinct and training a salesman, so -proud of his art and so certain of himself that he was wont to boast he -could sell hot tamales in hell. By shrewdness he had amassed a -comfortable fortune. He was a short, blond man nearly always capable of -profuse perspirations. Trent knew by Weems' excitement that there was at -hand either an entrancingly beautiful girl--as Weems saw beauty--or a -very rich man. Only these two spectacles were capable of bringing Weems' -smooth cheeks to this flush of excitement. Weems sometimes described -himself as a "money-hound." - -"You see that man coming toward us," Weems whispered. - -Trent looked up. There were three men advancing. One was a heavily built -man of late middle age with a disagreeable face, dominant chin and hard -gray eyes. The other two were younger and had that alert bearing which -men gain whose work requires a sound body and courage. - -"Are they arresting him?" Parker demanded. He noticed that they were -very close to the elder man. They might be Central Office men. - -"Arresting _him?_" Weems whispered, still excitedly, "I should say not. -You don't know who he is." - -"I only know that he must be rich," Trent returned. - -"That's one of the wealthiest men in the country," Weems told him. -"That's Jerome Dangerfield." - -"Your news leaves me unmoved," said the other. "I never heard of him." - -"He hates publicity," Weems informed him. "If a paper prints a line -about him it's his enemy, and it don't pay to have the enmity of a man -worth nearly a hundred millions." - -"What's his line?" Trent demanded. - -"Everything," Weems said enthusiastically. "He owns half the mills in -New Bedford for one thing. And then there's real estate in this village -and Chicago." Weems sighed. "If I had his money I'd buy a paper and have -myself spread all over it. And he won't have a line." - -"I'm not sure he has succeeded in keeping it out. I'd swear that I've -read something about him. It comes back clearly. It was something about -jewels. I remember now. It was Mrs. Jerome Dangerfield who bought a -famous ruby that the war compelled an English marchioness to sell." The -thing was quite clear to him now. He was on his favorite topic. "It was -known as the Mount Aubyn ruby, after the family which had it so long." -He turned to look at the well-guarded financier. "So that's the man -whose wife has that blood-stained jewel!" - -"What do you mean--blood stained?" Weems demanded. - -"It's one of the tragic stones of history," said the other. "Men have -sold their lives for it, and women their honor. One of the former -marquises of Mount Aubyn killed his best friend in a duel for it. God -knows what blood was spilled for it in India before it went to Europe." - -"You don't believe all that junk, do you?" asked Weems. - -"Junk!" the other flung back at him. "Have you ever looked at a ruby?" - -"Sure I have," Weems returned aggrieved. "Haven't you seen my ruby stick -pin?" - -"Which represents to you only so many dollars, and is, after all, only a -small stone. If you'd ever looked into the heart of a ruby you'd know -what I mean. There's a million little lurking devils in it, Weems, -taunting you, mocking you, making you covet it and ready to do murder to -have it for your own." - -Weems looked at him, startled for the moment. He had never known his -friend so intense, so unlike his careless, debonair self. - -"For the moment," said Weems, "I thought you meant it. Of course you -used to write fiction and that explains it." - -To his articles of faith Anthony Trent added another paragraph. He swore -not to let his enthusiasm run away with him when he discussed jewels. -Weems was safe enough. He was lucky to be in no other company. But -suppose he had babbled to one of those keen-eyed men engaged in guarding -Jerome Dangerfield, the multi-millionaire who shunned publicity! He -determined to choose another subject. - -"What does he take those men around with him for?" he asked. - -"A very rich man is pestered to death," the wise Weems said. "Cranks try -to interest him in all sorts of fool schemes and crazy men try to kill -him for being a capitalist. And then there's beggars and charities and -blackmailers. Nobody can get next to him. I know. I've tried. I've never -seen him in the subway before. I guess his car broke down and he had to -come with the herd." - -"So you tried? What was your scheme?" - -"I forget now," Weems admitted. "I've had so many good things since. I -followed out a stunt of that crook, Conway Parker, you used to write -about. In one of your stories you made him want to meet a millionaire -and instead of going to his office you made him go to the Fifth Avenue -home and fool the butlers and flunkeys. It won't work, old man. I know. -I handed the head butler my hat and cane, but that was as far as I got. -There must be a high sign in that sort of a house that I wasn't wise -to." Weems mused on his defeat for a few seconds. "I ought to have worn -a monocle." He brightened. "Anyway just as I came out of the door a lady -friend passed by on the top of a 'bus and saw me. Now you're a good -looker, old man, and high-class and all that, but you and I don't -belong in places like Millionaires' Row." - -"Too bad," said Trent, smiling. - -He wondered what Weems would have said if he had known that his friend -had within the week been to a reception in one of the greatest of the -Fifth Avenue palaces and there gazed at a splendid ruby--not half the -size of the Mount Aubyn stone--on the yellowing neck of an aged lady of -many loves. - - * * * * * - -When Weems was shaken off, Dangerfield and his attendants vanished, and -Trent had placed an order with his brokers he walked over to Park Row, -where he had once worked as a cub reporter. Contrary to his usual -custom, he entered a saloon well patronized by the older order of -newspapermen, men who graduated in a day when it was possible to drink -hard and hold a responsible position. He had barely crossed the -threshold when he heard the voice of the man he sought. It was Clarke, -slave to the archdemon rum. He was trying to borrow enough money from a -monotype man, who had admitted backing a winner, to get a prescription -filled for a suffering wife. The monotype man, either disbelieving -Clarke's story or having little regard for wifely suffering, was -indisposed to share his winnings with druggist or bartender. - -It was at this moment that Clarke caught sight of his old reporter and -more recent benefactor. He dropped the monotype man with all the -outraged pride of an erstwhile city editor and shook Trent's hand -cordially. His own trembled. - -"That might be managed," said Trent, listening to his request gravely, -"but first have a drink to steady your nerves." - -They repaired to a little alcove and sat down. Clarke was not anxious to -leave so pleasant a spot. He talked entertainingly and was ready to -expatiate on his former glories. - -"By the way," said Trent presently, "you used to know the inside history -and hidden secrets of every big man in town." - -"I do yet," Clarke insisted eagerly. "What's on your mind?" - -"Nothing in particular," said the other idly, "but I came downtown on -the subway and saw Jerome Dangerfield with his two strong-arm men. -What's he afraid of? And why won't he have publicity?" - -"That swinehound!" Clarke exclaimed. "Why wouldn't he be afraid of -publicity with his record? You're too young to remember, but I know." - -"What do you know?" Trent demanded. - -"I know that he's worse than the _Leader_ said he was when I was on the -staff twenty years back. That was why the old _Leader_ went out of -business. He put it out. A paper is a business institution and won't -antagonize a vicious two-handed fighter like Dangerfield unless it's -necessary. That's why they leave him alone. The big political parties -get campaign contributions from him. Why stir him up?" - -"But you haven't told me what he did?" - -"Women," said Clarke briefly. "You know, boy, that some men are born -women-hunters. That may be natural enough; but if it's a game, play it -fair. Pay for your folly. He didn't. You ask me why he has those guards -with him? It's to protect him from the fathers of young girls who've -sworn to get him. His bosom pal got his at a roof garden a dozen years -back, and Dangerfield's watching night and day. He's bad all through. -The stuff we had on him at the _Leader_ would make you think you were -back in decadent Rome." - -"What's his wife like?" - -"Society--all Society. Handsome, they tell me, and not any too much -brain, but domineering. Full of precious stones. I'm told every servant -is a detective. I guess they are, as you never heard of any of their -valuables being taken. It makes me thirsty to think of it." - -Trent, when he had obtained the information he desired, left Clarke with -enough money to buy medicine for his wife. With the bartender he left -sufficient to pay for a taxi to the boarding-house of Mrs. Sauer, where -he himself had once resided. Clarke would need it. - -On his way uptown he found himself thinking continuously of Jerome -Dangerfield and the Mount Aubyn ruby. There would be excitement in going -after such a prize. The Dangerfield household was one into which thieves -had not been able to break nor steal. A man, to make a successful coup, -would need more than a knowledge of the mechanism of burglar alarms or -safes; he would need steel nerves, a clear head, physical courage and -that intuitive knowledge of how to proceed which marks the great -criminal from his brother, the ordinary crook. If he possessed himself -of the ruby there would be no chance to sell it. It was as well known -among connoisseurs as are the paintings of Velasquez. To cut it into -lesser stones would be a piece of vandalism that he could never bring -himself to enact. - -It was Trent's custom when he planned a job to lay out in concise form -the possible and probable dangers he must meet. And to each one of these -problems there must be a solution. He decided that an entrance to the -Dangerfield house from the outside would fail. To gain a position in the -household would be not easy. In all probability references would be -strictly looked up. They would be easy enough to forge, but if they were -exposed he would be a suspect and his fictitious uncle in Australia -exhumed. Also he did not care to live in a household where he was -certain to be under the observation of detectives. No less than Jerome -Dangerfield he shrank from publicity. - -Mrs. Kinney noticed that he was strangely unresponsive to her -well-cooked lunch. When she enquired the cause he told her he wanted a -change. "I shall go away and play golf for a couple of weeks," he -declared. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -TRENT TAKES A HOLIDAY - - -AT a sporting goods store that afternoon he ran into Jerome Dangerfield -again. He had just bought a dozen balls when he saw the millionaire and -his two attendants. He was not minded to be observed of them, so slipped -into the little room where putters may be tried and drives be made into -nets. From where he was he could hear Dangerfield's disagreeable, -rasping voice. His grievance, it seemed, was that other golfers were -able to get better balls than he. He badgered the clerk until the man -found spirit to observe: "If there was a ball that would make a dub play -good golf it would be worth a fortune to any one." - -Trent was able to see the look of anger the capitalist threw at him. And -this anger he saw reflected on the faces of the two attendants. -Decidedly any lone man pitting his courage and wit against the -Dangerfield entourage would need sympathy. - -"Send me a half-gross up to Sunset Park Hotel," he heard Dangerfield say -as he walked away, still frowning. - -"I hope you don't have many of that kind to wait on," Trent said -sympathetically. He was always courteous to those with whom he had -dealings. - -"He's the limit," said the clerk; "and from the way he looked at me I -guess the boss will hear of it. Seemed to think there was a ball that -would make him drive two hundred and fifty and hole a twenty-foot putt -and I was trying to hide it from him. You wouldn't think it, but he's -one of the richest men living. Gee, it makes me feel like a Socialist -when I think of it!" - -The clerk wondered why it was a superb golfer, as he knew Trent to be, -was modest and courteous, while a man like Dangerfield was so -overbearing. - -Before he went home Trent looked up Sunset Park in a golfer's guide. It -was a little-known course among the Berkshires, with only nine holes to -its credit. The rates of the hotel were sufficiently high to make it -clear only the rich could play. It was probably one of these dreary -courses where a scratch player would be a rara avis, a course to which -elderly men, playing for their health, gravitated and made the lives of -caddies miserable. - -It was a curious thing, Trent thought, that while this morning he knew -nothing of Dangerfield, by night he knew a great deal. An evening paper -told him why the millionaire was going to the Berkshires. There was to -be a wedding in high society and the bride was a niece of Mrs. Jerome -Dangerfield. The ceremony would take place at the Episcopal Church of -the Good Shepherd, and a bishop would unite the contracting parties. The -fancy dress ball to be held would be the most elaborate ever held -outside New York. A great pavilion was to be erected for the occasion in -the grounds of the bride's magnificent home, and Newport would be for -the moment deserted. It was rumored that the jewels to be worn would -exceed in value anything that had ever been gathered together this side -the Atlantic, and so on, two columns long. - -It explained very clearly why the Jerome Dangerfields were going to -Sunset Park. The collective value of the jewels appealed particularly to -Trent. He wondered if the Mount Aubyn ruby would shine out on that -festal night. And if so how would it be guarded? It would be less -difficult to disguise the detectives in fancy costume than in evening -dress. Of course the owner of such a world-famous gem might wear an -imitation as the Baroness von Eckstein had done. But if Clarke had -painted her aright this was an occasion when an ambitious woman would be -willing to take risks. - - * * * * * - -The proprietors of the Sunset Park Hotel were glad to accommodate Mr. -Anthony Trent with a bed and bathroom for a little over a hundred -dollars a week. It was a very select resort, they explained, attracting -such people as the Jerome Dangerfields and their friends. - -The golf course was owned by the hotel and the first tee was on the lawn -a few yards from the front piazza. On the morning following his arrival, -Trent, golf clubs already allotted to a caddy, waited to see what kind -of golf was played. They were indifferently good but he betrayed little -attention until he saw Dangerfield coming. Immediately he went to the -tee but did not make his first shot until the millionaire was near -enough to see. Playing alone as was the capitalist--for few were yet on -the links--he had not to wait as he must have done had the other been -playing with a partner. The first green was distant one hundred and -sixty yards from the tee. A brook with sedgy reeds was a fine natural -hazard, and as the green was on an elevated plateau with deep grass -beyond, it was not an easy one to reach. Dangerfield dreaded it. - -Dangerfield saw a tall, slim young man correctly clad in breeches and -stockings, using a mashie, drop his ball neatly on the green within -putting distance of the hole. Later he saw the hole done in two which -was one under par. - -"Who is that man?" Dangerfield demanded of his caddie. - -"Never seen him before," the lad answered. - -Dangerfield took his brassey and went straightway into the brook. He -saw, however, as he was ball hunting, this stranger make a wonderful -drive to the second--two hundred and fifty yards, the enthusiastic -caddie swore. Meanwhile the millionaire continued to press and slice and -pull and top his ball to such effect as to do the double round in one -hundred and forty-two. Nothing exasperated him so much as to find the -game mock his strength and desire. A power wherever money marts were, he -was here openly laughed at by caddies. He was discovering that rank on -the links is determined by skill at the game alone. What mattered it -that he was the great Jerome Dangerfield. What had he done the round in? -What was his handicap? - -He particularly wanted to humble Stephen Goswell, president of the First -Agricultural Bank of New York City. Goswell was a year ahead of him at -the game and had the edge on him so far. Goswell could manage short -approaches occasionally, strokes that were beyond his own inflexible -wrists. Now this tall, dark stranger had such strokes to perfection. The -ball driven up into the air skimmed tree, wall or bunker and rolled up -to the pin sweetly. Dangerfield quickly made up his mind. He would -invite the stranger to play with him and then get hints which would -improve his game fifty per cent. - -"Morning," he said later at the "Nineteenth Hole" where the stranger was -taking a drink. - -"Good morning," said the stranger rather stiffly. "It is evident," -thought Dangerfield, "he does not know who I am." - -"Going 'round again after lunch?" Dangerfield demanded. - -"I think so," the stranger responded. - -"We might play together," said Dangerfield. "I haven't a partner." - -"I'm afraid that won't make a good match," Trent told him. "Surely there -is some one more your strength who would make a better match of it?" - -"Huh!" grunted the other, "think I don't play well enough, eh?" - -"I know it," said Trent composedly. - -Dangerfield regarded him sourly. - -"You're not overburdened with modesty, young man." - -"I hope not," the other retorted, "nothing handicaps a man more in life. -I happen to know golf, though, and my experience is that if I play with -a much inferior player I get careless and that's bad for my game. I'm -perfectly frank about it. You know next to nothing about the game. In -your own line of work you could no doubt give me a big beating because -you know it and I don't." - -"And what do you suppose my line of work is?" snapped the annoyed -mill-owner. - -"I don't know," Trent commented. "Either a dentist or a theatrical -producer." As he spoke up sauntered one of the two men with whom he had -seen Dangerfield in the subway. - -"I'd like to hire some one to take the starch out of you," Dangerfield -said as he rose to his feet. - -"Quite easy," Trent returned, "almost any professional could." - -He watched the two walk away and chuckled. He had attracted the -millionaire's attention and he had rebuffed him. So far his programme -was being carried out on scheduled time. The attendant had not looked at -him with any special interest. It was unlikely in different clothes, -under other conditions and in a strange place he would recognize him. - -He did not play again that day. Instead he paid attention to some -elderly ladies who knitted feverishly and were inclined to talk. He -learned a great deal of useful news. For example, that the Dangerfields -always had meals in their big private suite and rarely without guests -from nearby homes. That they quarreled constantly. That Mr. Dangerfield -never went to bed wholly sober. That he was given to sudden gusts of -temper and only last year had beaten a caddie and had been compelled to -settle the assault with a large money payment. That he was not above -pocketing a golf ball if he could do so without being observed. That he -had several times been seen to lift his ball out of an unfavorable lie -into one from which he could play with greater chance of making a good -stroke. - -These petty meannesses Trent had already surmised. Dangerfield seemed to -him that sort of a man. He was more interested in the dinner parties. -But a man in such a position as he was had to be careful as to what -questions he asked. People had a knack of remembering them at -inopportune moments. Fortunately one of the ladies, who was a Miss -Northend of Lynn, came back to it. She was a furious knitter and knitted -best when her tongue wagged. - -"Of course this hotel belongs to Mr. Dangerfield," she babbled, "and -that explains why they have a palatial suite here and can entertain even -more readily than if they had a summer home, as their friends have. This -is a very fashionable section. The women dress here as if they were in -Newport. Every night Mr. Dangerfield goes down to the hotel safe and -brings something gorgeous in the jewelry way for his wife to wear. -There's a private stairway he uses. I wandered into it once by mistake." - -"And sister was so flustered," the other Miss Northend of Lynn told him, -"that when he accused her of spying on him she couldn't say a word. It -really did look suspicious until he knew we were Northends and our -father was his counsel once when he controlled the Boston and Rangely -road." - -When these estimable maidens had finished, Anthony Trent knew all those -particulars he desired. It was not the first time amiable gossips had -aided him. But he played his part so well that Miss Fannie chided her -sister. - -"He wasn't a bit interested in the Dangerfield wealth," she said. "All -a young man like that thinks of is golf." - -"Well," said her sister, "I am interested and I'm frightened, too. When -I think of all that amount of precious stones in the hotel safe, I'm -positively alarmed. Every night she wears something new, her maid told -the girl who looks after our rooms." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE GREAT BLACK BIRD - - -THERE was exactly one week to the night of the fancy dress dance at the -Uplands from the time that the Northend sisters gave the abstractor so -much information. Every moment of it was carefully taken up by that -calculating gentleman. - -For example, on the following morning, Wednesday he played a round with -the club's champion, an amateur of some skill. Dangerfield posing for -the moment as a warm admirer of the local player, followed the two on -their match, betting freely on Blackhall, his clubmate. Also, he -violated every rule of the royal and ancient game by speaking as Trent -made his strokes. Never in his ten years of golf had Trent played such a -game. It was characteristic of him to do his best when conditions were -worst. - -When the game was over at the thirteenth hole Dangerfield turned crossly -to Blackhall. - -"You played a rotten game!" he said. - -"I never played a better," that golfer exclaimed. "The whole trouble -with me was that I was up against a better man." - -It may be observed that Blackhall was a sportsman. - -Dangerfield was astonished and gratified next day when he was essaying -some approaching to find Trent watching his efforts in a not unfriendly -spirit. - -"The trouble with you," said the younger player graciously, "is that you -chop your stroke instead of carrying through. I'll show you what I -mean." - -In the half hour he devoted to Dangerfield he improved the millionaire's -game six strokes a round. - -"It would be no fun to play with you," he said when Dangerfield again -invited him, "but I hate to see a man trying to approach as you did when -a little help could put him right." - -Thus were any Dangerfield suspicions disarmed. He helped him once or -twice more and on every occasion insisted that the hovering attendant be -sent away. - -"Your keeper," said Trent genially, "puts me off my stroke." - -"Keeper," grinned Dangerfield, "I'm not as bad as that. He's my valet." - -Two days before the ball at the Uplands it was observed that Anthony -Trent visited the Nineteenth Hole more frequently and stayed there -longer. He was playing less golf now. The bartender confided in Mr. -Dangerfield, who was also a consistent patron, that he was drinking -heavily. - -"I guess," said the tender of the bar with the sapience of his kind, -"that he's one of these quiet periodic souses. They tell me he has the -stuff sent up to his room." - -"Too bad!" said Mr. Dangerfield, shaking his head as he ordered another. - -It was true that to Trent's room much dry gin and lemon juice found its -way, together with siphons of iced carbonic. The carbonic and the lemon -juice was drunk since a belated heat wave was visiting the Sunset Park -Hotel. The gin found its way into his flower laden window boxes, which -should have bloomed into juniper berries. Trent liked a drink as well as -any other golfer, but he found that it just took the keen edge off his -nerves. He was less keen to realize danger and too ready to meet a risk -when he drank. As a conscientious workman he put it behind him when -professionally engaged. - -On the night of the ball he was, to quote a bell boy, dead to the world, -which proves that bell boys may be deceived by appearances. On the night -of the ball he was keyed up to his highest personal efficiency. - -Physically he was at his best. His muscles were always hard and his wind -good. The resisting exercises he practised maintained the former and a -little running every day aided the latter. - -The great costume ball was to take place on the third of September, when -the sun would set at half-past six. The Uplands was no more than a half -hour motor spin distant from the hotel. The time set was half-past nine, -which meant few would be there before ten. It was plain then that Mrs. -Jerome Dangerfield would not commence her preparations for dressing -until after the dinner. She was devoted to the pleasures of the table, -as her maid lamented when she harnessed her mistress within her corsets. - -Looking from his window, Trent saw that the sun had retired behind -clouds early in the afternoon. Darkness would not be delayed, and the -success of his venture depended upon this. - -Reviewing the amazing events of the evening of September the third, it -is only fair to let Jerome Dangerfield relieve his feelings in a letter -to his closest friend, the president of the First Agricultural Bank of -New York. - -"You were right in warning me not to bring the Mt. Aubyn ruby up to this -place. It was Adele's fault. She wanted it for the wedding. The damned -thing has gone, Steve, vanished into thin air. If you told me what I'm -going to tell you, I should say you were crazy. The people here and the -fool police thought I'd been drinking. I'd had three or four cocktails, -but what is that to me--or you? I was absolutely in possession of my -senses. - -"We dined early and we dined alone. At eight I went down for the jewels -Adele wanted to wear. The ruby was the _pièce de résistance_ of course. -I went down my own private stairway as usual and unlocked the door -leading from it to the hotel lobby. Devlin is here, and O'Brien, but -they were both outside keeping tabs on strangers. The papers have played -this costume ball up so much that every crook in the land knew what we -had to offer in the way of loot. Graham, the hotel clerk, came with me -to the private stairway and swears he pushed the door to as I started to -go up the stairs. And he swears also that, although it wasn't lighted as -well as usual, there was nobody in sight. They are steep stairs, Steve, -but they save me rubbing shoulders with every man or woman who might -want to get acquainted in the public elevators; and, naturally, I wasn't -carrying a fortune where any crook could get a crack at me. - -"Read this carefully. I was on the fifteenth step of the flight of -twenty-two steps when the thing happened. The light was dim because one -of the bulbs wasn't working and the only illumination came from a red -light at the head of the stairway. - -"I was holding the jewel box in both hands resting it almost on my chest -when the thing happened. There was suddenly a noise that might have been -made by the beating of wings and something swooped out of nowhere and -hit me on my wrists with such violence that I went backwards down the -stairs and was unconscious for more than ten minutes. On each wrist -there is an abrasion that might be caused by the sharp bill of a big -bird. I'm bruised all over and have three stitches over one eye. - -"I found the box lying on one of the steps closed as I had held it. _The -only thing that was missing was the Mt. Aubyn Ruby!_ - -"Devlin and O'Brien have all kinds of theories but I told them I wanted -the stone back and if they didn't get it I wouldn't have them any longer -in my employ. - -"Devlin says he will swear a car passed him on the Boston road yesterday -containing some Continental crooks who used to operate along the Italian -and French riviera. He's full of wild fancies and swears I shall get the -ruby back. I'm not so sure. I've given up the theory that it was a great -black bat which hit me, but whatever it was it was a stunt pulled by a -master craftsman who is laughing at Devlin and his kind. Can you imagine -a crook who would leave behind what this fellow did? - -"I wish you'd go to the Pemberton Detective Agency and get them to send -some one up here capable of handling the situation. I shall be coming -down to New York as soon as I'm able. I'm too much bruised to play golf -but when I do I shall win some of your money. I've had some lessons -from a crackerjack golfer up here who goes round the eighteen holes in -anything from seventy-two to seventy-eight. My stance was wrong and I -wasn't gripping right." - -So much for Jerome Dangerfield. When Devlin and O'Brien examined the -scene of the crime they immediately noticed that some fifteen feet above -the ground level a stained glass window lighted the stairway. "Of -course," they exclaimed in unison, "that is the solution." But the -theory did not hold water, as the soil of the flower-beds showed no sign -of a ladder or any footmark. They had been raked over that afternoon and -the gardener swore no foot but his had set foot in this enclosed garden -which supplied the hotel tables with blooms. An examination of the -window showed no helpful finger marks. It was an indoor job, they -declared, amending their first opinion. - -But they were thorough workmen in their way. For instance: Anthony -Trent, reclining fully dressed across his bed with cigarette stubs and -emptied glasses about him within thirty minutes of the robbery, was -evidently in fear of interruption. An onlooker would have seen him take -three gin fizzes in rapid succession until indeed his face wore a faint -flush. He listened keenly when outside his door footsteps lingered. And -he was snoring alcoholically when the hotel clerk entered, bringing with -him Messrs. Devlin and O'Brien. - -"He's been like this for days," Graham, the clerk, asserted. "If it -wasn't that he was no trouble and made no noise I should have told him -to get out. A pity," Graham shook his head, "one of the -pleasantest-spoken men in the hotel, and some golfer, they tell me." - -"You leave us," Devlin commanded. "We are acting for the boss and it'll -be all right." - -Out of the corner of his eye Trent watched the two trained men make a -thorough examination of his room and effects. Indeed, their thoroughness -gave him ideas which were later to prove of use. But they drew blank. -They examined the two fly rods he had brought with him and a collapsible -landing net with great care, tapping the handles and balancing the rods. -They sighed when nothing was found. - -"This guy is all right," said O'Brien. - -"I don't know," said Devlin. "He looks a little too much like a -moving-picture hero to suit me. He may have it on him." - -At this moment Trent sat up with an effort and looked from one to the -other of the visitors. As drunken men do, it appeared not easy to get -them in proper focus. - -Devlin was not easily put in the wrong. His manner was most respectful. - -"Mr. Dangerfield wants you to join him in a little game of bridge," he -began ingratiatingly. - -"Sure," said the inebriate. "Any time at all." He attempted to get up. - -"You can't go like this," Devlin assured him. "You'd better sober up a -bit. Take a cold bath." - -O'Brien obligingly turned the water on and five minutes later Devlin -assisted him into the tub, while O'Brien examined the clothes he had -left in his sitting-room. - -Then the two left him abruptly and made no more mention of bridge or -Dangerfield. Trent rolled on the bed chuckling. The honors were his. - -The great black bird swooping from nowhere to relieve Dangerfield of his -great ruby and other stones of value, to strike that worthy upon his -strong wrists with such startling effect as to make him fall down a -dozen steps, was capable of a simpler explanation than he had supposed. - -Trent, a week before the robbery, had observed with peculiar attention -the window leading to Dangerfield's private stairway. He could see one -easy approach to it and one of greater difficulty. The first was -approach by a step-ladder. The second was a great arm of the enormous -tree that reared its head above the hotel roof. This arm hung down from -the roof almost twenty feet above the little window. He believed that -his weight would bring it swaying down to the window-ledge. He tried it -one moonless night and found the scheme feasible. Already the chiller -mountain breezes following the heat spell were making visitors close -their windows. On the evening of the third of September he stole from -his room by climbing over the roof until he came to the side where the -big tree was. In one hand he held a coil of rope to hold the branch when -his weight was taken off it. This rope he tied to the iron staple of the -shutter outside the window. It was easy to open this. - -Dropping silently on to the stairs, he unscrewed the bulb of the light -until the staircase was in partial darkness. Tense, he knelt on the edge -of the window and waited for the millionaire. And as the man came in -sight he suddenly lifted from a step his landing net, the same -collapsible one Devlin had examined with such care. But this time it was -draped in dark material to conceal its form. The brass rim, sharp and -heavy, struck Dangerfield's wrists as he held the box by both hands on a -level with his heart. Into the open net the precious casket fell -silently. Trent was in his room ten minutes ere Dangerfield came to -consciousness. His next move seemed strange and unnecessary. With a used -golf ball in his pocket, he slid down the veranda posts until he came, -by devious routes, to the shed in which the lockers were of those who -used the links. It had long since been closed for the night. Parker -unfastened Dangerfield's locker and placed the ball in the pocket, where -it lay with others of similar age and make. - -He was able to return to his room unobserved. It was less than a half -hour afterward that he received his call from the two detectives. - -Although he was anxious to get on the links again and breathe the air of -the pine woods, he was careful not to undo his artistic preparations. It -was noticed that no more drink was sent to his room. There came instead -ice water and strong coffee. He was getting over it, they said. Two days -later he was out on the links and made a peculiarly bad round, taking -ten more strokes than usual. Dangerfield watched him from the piazza. -One of his arms was in a sling. - -"Cut the rough stuff out," said Dangerfield, "that's the second time you -topped your ball." - -Trent passed a hand across his face, possibly to hide a smile. - -"I guess I'll have to," he returned simply. "It was that damned heat -wave that got me going." - - * * * * * - -It happened that the Dangerfields and Trent returned to New York on the -same train. Devlin and O'Brien were in attendance. Trent noticed that -when Devlin's eye fell on the golf bag over his shoulder he frowned. So -far the ruby had not been recovered and here was a piece of baggage that -might hold crown jewels. Over Devlin's broad shoulders his master's golf -bag was suspended. Cheerily and with respect he approached the crack -player. - -"Let me hold your golf bag, sir," he said with a ready smile. "I'll put -it on the train for you." - -Trent relinquished it with relief. "Thank you," he returned, "it will be -a help." - -He had long ago noticed that his own bag and Dangerfield's were alike -save for the initials. They were both of white canvas, bound with black -leather. Watching the smiling Devlin with a well-disguised curiosity, he -saw that Dangerfield's bag had been substituted for his own. Devlin had -done exactly as Trent expected him to do and had, in the doing of it, -saved him much trouble. - -There were not many people in his Pullman. Dangerfield had his private -car. None saw Anthony Trent open the ball pouch on the Dangerfield bag -and extract therefrom an aged and somewhat dented ball. He balanced it -almost lovingly in his hand. Never in the history of the great game had -a ball been seen with the worth of this one. And yet he had so cunningly -extracted its core and repaired it when once the Mount Aubyn ruby was -nestling in its strange home that detection was unlikely, even were an -examination made. A porter had the Dangerfield bag and Trent's suitcase -when Devlin came up to him. He was no longer obliging. He had spent -wearisome hours in the privacy of the Dangerfield car examining every -part of the Trent impedimenta. The task had wearied him and had been -fruitless. - -"You got the boss's clubs," he said shortly. - -Languidly Trent examined what his porter carried. - -"You're to blame for it," he answered, and as Mr. Dangerfield came up -raised his voice a little. He knew Devlin suspected him, and he sensed -that some day the two would meet as open foes. - -"This man of yours," cried Trent, "tried to give me your clubs instead -of my own. I wouldn't lose mine for anything." - -"You crack golfers couldn't do anything without your own specially built -clubs," jeered the millionaire, "I believe it's half the game." - -Trent smiled. - -"There's something in the ball, too," he admitted, and had difficulty in -keeping his face straight. - -Mrs. Kinney was delighted to see her employer home again, and hurried to -a convenient delicatessen store so that he might be fed. It was when she -came back that her eye caught sight of the brass lamp from Benares. - -Where had been the unsightly gap caused by her breaking of the red glass -was now a piece which glittered gaily. - -"Why, you've had it mended, sir," she cried. "I feel I ought to pay for -it, since it was my carelessness which broke it." - -"I'm glad you did," he laughed. "If you hadn't I shouldn't have got -this." He looked at it with pride. "Do you know, Mrs. Kinney, I like -this one better." - -"It makes the other ones look common though," she commented. - -"You're right," he admitted. "I think I shall have to replace them, -too." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -TRENT ACQUIRES A HOME - - -ONE day, months before the affair of the ten ambulances, Horace Weems -had seen Anthony Trent about to enter Xeres' excellent restaurant. -Lacking no assurance Weems tacked himself on to his friend. - -"Say, do you feed here?" he demanded and looked with respect at his -friend's raiment. - -"Only when I'm hungry," Trent retorted. He knew it was useless to try to -get rid of Weems. "Have you dined?" - -"Thanks," said Weems, "I don't mind if I do." - -In those days Weems was proud as the owner of the finest camp on Lake -Kennebago. He was high stomached and generous of advice. He told Trent -so much of a certain stock--a gold mine in Colorado--that at last he -purchased a considerable interest in it. Later he learned that Weems had -unloaded worthless stock on him. Trent bore no sort of malice. He had -gone into the thing open-eyed and Weems, as he knew of yore, never sold -at a loss. - -Weems had been wiser to have held his stock for tungsten in large -quantities was discovered and what cost Trent five thousand dollars was -now worth ten times that amount. - -It was one evening shortly after his adventures with the Baron von -Eckstein that Weems called him up on the telephone. That he was able to -do so annoyed Trent who had carefully concealed his number. But Horace -Weems had secured it by a use of mendacity and with it the number and -the address. He said he was 'phoning from a nearby drug store and was -about to pay a visit. - -Weems was ill at ease. And he was unshaven and his shoes no longer shone -with radiance. His disheveled appearance and attitude of dejection swept -away his host's annoyance. He took a stiff Scotch and seltzer. - -"Little Horace Weems," he announced, "has got it in the neck!" - -"What's happened?" Trent demanded. - -"Got that Wall Street bunch sore on me and hadn't the sense to see the -danger signals." Weems soothed his throat with another stiff drink. "The -trouble with me is I'm too courageous. I knew what I was up against but -did that frighten me? No siree, no boss, I went for 'em like you used to -go through a bunch of forwards in a football game. I'm like a bull -terrier. I'm all fight. Size don't worry me. They pulled me down at last -but it took all the best brains in the 'Street' to do it. They hate a -comer and I'm that. Well, this is the first round and they win on points -but this isn't a limited bout. You watch little Horace. I'll have a -turbine steam yacht yet and all the trimmings. Follow me and you'll wear -diamonds or rags--nothing between. Rags or diamonds." - -Weems was a long time coming to the point. When he did it was revealed -as a loan, a temporary loan. - -"It's like this," said the ingenuous Weems, "when I sold you those -shares in a tungsten mine I did it because you were a friend." - -"You did it," Trent reminded him, "because you hadn't a faint idea there -was tungsten there and you thought you'd done something mighty clever. -What next?" - -"You needn't be sore about it," Weems returned, "you made money." - -"I'm not sore," Trent said smiling. "You did me a good turn but I don't -have to be grateful all things considering. How much do you want?" - -"I shall get back," Weems said a little sulkily. "I only want a hundred -or maybe two hundred, although five hundred would see me through till I -get the money for the camp." - -"You are not going to sell that?" Trent cried. It was of all places the -one he craved. - -"Got to," Weems asserted. - -"Who is going to buy it?" - -"A fellow from Cleveland named Rumleigh." - -"I remember him," Trent said frowning, "he's a hog, a fish hog. All the -guides hate him. What's he going to give you?" - -"Forty thousand," said Weems. - -"Constable, grand piano and all?" - -"The piano's there," Weems told him, "but the picture is sold. Honest, -Tony, that picture surprised me. Senator Scrivener gave me ten thousand -dollars for it. Just some trees, an old barn and some horses looking -over a gate. What do you know about that? That helped me some." - -"You're such a damned liar, Weems, that I never believe you but I'll -swear Rumleigh isn't paying you forty thousand dollars for that camp. -It's a good camp but if you've got to sell in a hurry he'll hold you -down to less than that. Be honest for once and tell me what he's going -to give." - -"Twenty-two thousand," Weems said sullenly. - -"I'll give you twenty-five," said Trent carelessly. - -"His is a cash offer," Weems said shaking his head, "and that's why I'm -selling so cheap." - -Trent took a roll of bills from his pocket and peeled off before Weems' -astounded eyes five and twenty thousand dollars. - -"Mine is also a cash offer," he observed. - -"Come right off to my lawyer," Weems cried springing to his feet. "Gee, -and I thought you hadn't as much money as I have." - -Thus it was that Anthony Trent came into possession of his camp. It was -a beautiful place and there were improvements which he planned that -would cost a lot to execute. He decided that it might be unwise to -retire yet from a profession which paid him such rewards. Another year -and he could lay aside his present work satisfied that financial worries -need never trouble him. He admitted that many unfortunate things might -happen in twelve months but he was serene in the belief that his star -was in the ascendant. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -"WANTED--AN EMERALD" - - -Since Anthony Trent had replaced the red glass in his Benares lamp with -the Mount Aubyn ruby, the other pieces of cut glass seemed so dull by -comparison that had his visitors been many, suspicion must have arisen -from the very difference they exhibited. The lamp was discreetly swung -in a distant corner and the button which lighted the lamp carefully -concealed. - -Reading one morning that owing to the financial trouble into which the -war had plunged a great West of England family, the celebrated Edgcumbe -sapphire had been purchased by a New York manufacturer of -ammunition--one of the new millionaires created by the war to buy what -other countries had to sacrifice. - -The papers gave every necessary particular. At ten o'clock one morning -Anthony Trent sallied forth to loot. By dinner time the Edgcumbe -sapphire had replaced the blue cube of cut glass and in his lamp the -papers were devoting front page space to its daring abduction. How he -accomplished it properly belongs to another chapter in the life of the -master criminal. So easy was it of consummation that he planned to use -the same technique for a greater coup. - -When these two great stones were making his brazen lamp a thing of -flashing beauty they threw into infinite dullness the cube of green. -Looking at it night after night when Mrs. Kinney was long abed and the -grateful silences had drowned the noise of day, Anthony Trent longed for -an emerald to bear these lordly jewels company. - -There was an excellent second-hand book store on Thirty-second street, -between Seventh avenue and Sixth, where he browsed often among waiting -volumes. One day he picked up a book, written in French, "Romances of -Precious Stones." It was by a Madame Sernin, grandniece of the great -Russian novelist Feoder Vladimir Larrovitch. Trent remembered that he -had read her translation of _Crasny Baba_ and _Gospodi Pomi_, and looked -at this original work with interest. It was published in Paris just -before the war. - -He knew well that most of the great stones which had became famous -historically were still in Europe. And Europe, until the long war was -over, was closed to him. He hoped Madame Sernin had something to say -about American-owned jewels. There was a reference in the index and -later, in his rooms, he read it eagerly. There were, Mme. Sernin -announced, but two of the great emeralds in the United States. One -belonged to the wife of the Colombian minister and was found in -Colombia. Trent considered this stone carefully. It might not be in the -United States after all. Mme. Sernin was doubtful herself. But of the -second stone she was certain. It was known as the Takowaja Emerald. A -century and a half before it had been dug from the Ural Mountains. That -great "_commenceuse_," the second Catherine of Russia, had given it to -her favorite, Gregory Orlov, who had sold it to a traveling English -noble in a day before American gold was known in Continental Europe. - -It was now the property of Andrew Apthorpe, of Boston in Massachusetts. -Presumably the man was a collector, and assuredly he was wealthy, but -Anthony Trent had never heard of him. A trip by boat to Boston would -make a pleasant break and a day later he was steaming north. His -inevitable golf clubs accompanied him. Trent was one of those -natural-born players whose game suffer little if short of practice. And -of late he had not stinted himself of play. He told Mrs. Kinney he was -going to Edgartown for a few days. He had sometimes played around these -island links; and his bag of clubs was always an excellent excuse for -traveling in strange parts. - -Directly he had registered at the Adams House he consulted a city -directory. Andrew Apthorpe's town house was in the same block on Beacon -street which held the Clent Bulstrode mansion. - -It was a vast, forbidding residence of red brick running back to the -Charles embankment. The windows were small and barred and the shades -drawn. An empty milk bottle and a morning paper at a basement door gave -evidence of occupancy. And at the garage at the rear a burly chauffeur -was cleaning the brass work of a touring car. Looking wisely and -suspiciously at Trent as he sauntered by was an Airedale. The family, -Trent surmised, was absent and the caretaker, who rose late if the -neglected Post was a sign, and this man and dog were left to guard the -place. - -If the Takowaja emerald were housed here with two such guardians its -recovery might not be difficult. But the more Trent thought of it the -more improbable it seemed that the owner of such a gem should leave it -prey to any organized attack. The curious part about this Ural emerald -was that Trent had never before heard of it and he knew American owned -stones well. Most of the owners of famous jewels were ready to talk of -them, lend them for exhibition purposes when they were properly guarded, -but he had never seen a line about the Apthorpe emerald. - -A few minutes before midday Anthony Trent strolled into the Ames -building and saw that Andrew Apthorpe, cotton broker, occupied very -large offices. A little later he followed one of the Apthorpe clerks, a -well-dressed, good-looking young man, to the place where he lunched. It -was curiously unlike a New York restaurant. Circular mahogany counters -surrounded self possessed young women who permitted themselves to attend -to those who hungered. To such as they knew and liked they were affable. -To others their front was cold and severe. - -The Apthorpe employee was a favorite, apt at retort and not ill pleased -if others noted it. Soon he drifted into conversation with Trent, who -with his careful mind had read through the column devoted to cotton in -the morning papers and was ready with a carefully remembered phrase or -two for the stranger who responded in kind. - -Gradually, by way of the Red Sox, the beauties of Norumbega Park and the -architectural qualities of Keith's, the young man lapsed into -personalities and told Anthony Trent all he desired to know of Andrew -Apthorpe. Andrew, it seemed, was not beloved of his employees. He was -unappreciative of merit unless it accompanied female beauty. He was -old; he was ill. His family had abandoned him with the sincere -reluctance that wealth is ever abandoned. - -"He lives up at Groton," said Trent's loquacious informant, "in a sort -of castle on a hill fitted with every burglar resisting device that was -ever invented." - -"What's he afraid of?" Trent demanded. - -"He's got a lot of valuables," the other answered, "cut gems and cameos -and intaglios and things that wouldn't interest any one but an old miser -like him. I have to go up there once in a while. The old boy has an -automatic in his pocket all the while. I think he's crazy." - -There were two or three men at Camp Devens whom Trent knew slightly. The -Camp was within walking distance of Groton, he learned. By half past -nine on the following morning Anthony Trent left Ayer behind him and -breasted the rising ground towards Groton. He could go to the Camp -later. He might not go at all but if questioned as to his presence the -excuse would be a just one. He was always anxious that his motives would -pass muster with the police if ever he came in contact with them. - -After a couple of miles he came in sight of the beautiful tower of -Groton School Chapel. Two or three times he had played for his school -against this famous institution in the years that seemed now so far -behind him. The town of Groton, some distance from the more modern -school, charmed his senses. Restful houses among immemorial elms, well -kept gardens and a general air of contentment made the town one to be -remembered even in New England. - -He hoped he would be able to find something about Apthorpe from some -local historian without having to lead openly to the matter. A luncheon -at the famous Inn might discover some such informant. But he was not -destined to enter that admirable hostelry for coming toward him, with -dignified carriage and an aura of fragrant havana smoke about him, was -Mr. Westward whom he had known slightly at Kennebago. This Mr. Westward -was the most widely known fisherman on the famous lake, an authority -wherever wet-fly men foregathered. - -Trent would have preferred to meet none who knew him by name. This was a -professional adventure and not a trout fishing vacation. But the angler -had already recognized him and there was no help for it. Westward rather -liked Anthony Trent as he liked all men who were skilled in the use of -the wet-fly and were, in his own published words, "high-minded, -fly-fishing sportsmen." - -"Why, my dear fellow," said Westward genially, "what are you doing in my -home town?" - -"I'd no idea you lived here," Trent said, shaking his hand. "I thought -you were a New Yorker." - -Westward pointed to a modest house. "This is what I call my office," he -explained. "I do my writing there and house my fishing tackle and my -specimens." - -"I wish you'd let me see them," Trent suggested smiling. "I've often -marveled at the way you catch 'em." - -It was past twelve when he had finished talking over what Mr. Westward -had to show. He realized he had forgotten the matter which brought him -to Groton. When Mr. Westward asked him to luncheon he hesitated a -moment. This hesitation was born not of a disinclination to accept the -angler's hospitality but rather to the feeling that he was out for -business and if he failed at it might be led as a criminal to whatever -jail was handy. And were he thus a prisoner it would embarrass a good -sportsman. But Mr. Westward gained his point and led Trent to a big -rambling house further down the street that was a rich store house of -the old and quaint furniture of Colonial days. - -Mrs. Westward proved to be a woman of charm and culture, endowed with a -quick wit and a gift of entertaining comment on what local happenings -were out of the ordinary. - -"Has Charles told you of the murder?" she asked. - -"We've been talking fish," Anthony Trent explained. - -"Oh you fishermen!" she laughed. "I often tell my husband he won't take -any notice of the Last Trump if he's fishing or talking of trout. We -actually had a murder here last night." - -"I hope it was some one who could be easily spared," Trent returned, -"and not a friend." - -"I could spare him," Mrs. Westward said decisively. "I know his wife and -she has my friendship but for Andrew Apthorpe I have never cared." - -"Apthorpe?" Trent cried. "The cotton man?" - -"The same," Mrs. Westward assured him. - -Anthony Trent was suddenly all attention. He surmised that the murder of -so rich a man was actuated by a desire for his collection. And if so, -where was the Takowaja emerald? - -"Please tell me," he entreated, "murders fascinate me. If the penalty -were not so severe I should engage in murder constantly. What was it? -Revenge? Robbery?" - -"Yes and no," Charles Westward observed with that judicial air which -confounded questioners. "Revenge no doubt. Robbery perhaps, but we are -awaiting the arrival of Mrs. Apthorpe and her daughter. We shall not -know until then whether his collection of valuables has been stolen." - -"What about the revenge theory?" Trent inquired. - -"Apthorpe made many enemies as a younger man. Physically he was violent. -There are no doubt many who detested him. Personally I had no quarrel -with him. I sent him a mess of trout from the Unkety brook this season -and had a little talk with him over the phone but he saw few except his -lawyer and business associates." - -"Is any one suspected in particular?" Trent asked. - -"The whole thing is mysterious," Mrs. Westward declared with animation. -"Last night at eight o'clock I received a telephone message from his -nurse, a Miss Thompson, a woman I hardly know. Once or twice I have seen -her at the Red Cross meetings but that is all. She apologized for -calling but said she felt nervous. It seems that Mr. Apthorpe had let -all the servants go off to the band concert at Ayer. There were two -automobiles filled with them. The only people left were Miss Thompson in -the house and a gardener who lives in a cottage on the grounds. They -left the house just after dinner--say half past seven. At a quarter to -eight a stranger called to see Mr. Apthorpe." - -"Accurately timed," commented Mr. Westward. - -"Miss Thompson declined to admit him. You must understand, Mr. Trent, -that Andrew Apthorpe was a very sick man, heart trouble mainly, and she -was within her rights. The man who would not give his name put his foot -in the door and said he would see Mr. Apthorpe if he waited there all -night. While she was arguing with him, begging him, in fact, to go away, -her employer came to the head of the stairs that lead from the main -rooms to the hall. Miss Thompson explained what had happened. To her -surprise he said, 'I have been expecting him for twenty years. Let him -in.'" - -"Why should she call you up?" Trent asked. - -"Merely because she was nervous and knew other people even less than she -did me." Mrs. Westward hesitated a moment. "There have been rumors about -her and Mr. Apthorpe which were not pleasant. They were probably not -true but when a man has lived as he had it was not surprising. She -called me up at eight because the two men were quarreling. My husband -told you he was a man of violent temper. That is putting it mildly. I -told her there was nothing to be alarmed about. At nine she called me up -again to say that she would be grateful if Mr. Westward and my nephew -Richmond, who is staying with me, would go up there as she had heard -blows struck and Mr. Apthorpe was too ill to engage in any sort of -tussle. I told her my two men were out but that the police should be -called in. While I was talking she gave a shriek--it was a most dramatic -moment and I could hear her steps running from the telephone." - -"My nephew and I came in at that moment," Westward interrupted, "and -went up the hill to the house as fast as possible. Mrs. Westward -meanwhile had telephoned for the police. Miss Thompson was waiting on -the steps. She was hysterical and afraid to go back into the lonely -house." - -"Richmond said he thought she had been drinking," his wife interjected. - -"That meant nothing," Westward observed, "she was hysterical and I don't -wonder in that great lonely house. When we went in with the police we -found the big living room door locked with the key on the inside. We had -to break it open and found it bolted. Evidently the stranger had seen to -that. Old Apthorpe was lying dead shot through the head with a bullet -from his own revolver. The window was open. There was a twelve-foot drop -to the grass outside and the man had lowered himself by a portiere. So -far not a trace has been found of him. A great many people pass through -here on the way to or from Boston and we have become so used to -strangers that no heed is paid to them any more." - -"Was there any evidence of robbery?" Trent asked. - -"Not a trace so far as we could see. I mean by that there was no -disorder. Things of value might have been taken but nothing had been -broken open. We shan't know until Mrs. Apthorpe comes." - -"It was evidently," Mr. Westward declared, "some man whom he had been -expecting. Miss Thompson, according to her story, did not know the man's -name and yet was told to admit him. It may be the police will find it -from correspondence." - -"I doubt it," Trent observed shaking his head. "If it was a man Apthorpe -had dreaded for a score of years he wouldn't be corresponding with -him." - -"Then why was he admitted?" asked Mrs. Westward. - -"Consider the circumstances," Anthony Trent reminded her. He was -becoming thoroughly interested. "Here he was almost in the house, his -foot in the door. All the servants were away. No matter what Apthorpe -said he would have got in. What more likely than that the proud -overbearing old man felt sufficient confidence in his nerve and his -revolver? Or if he didn't he would not admit it. The curious part to my -mind was how this unknown timed it so exactly. He turned up just as the -servants were going out for the evening." He turned to Mrs. Westward, -"Why didn't Miss Thompson telephone for police aid do you suppose? Does -it seem strange to you that she telephoned to you instead?" - -"Knowing Andrew Apthorpe it does not," she answered. "He would have been -furious if she had done so. To begin with he has had many squabbles with -the local authorities over trumpery matters. He was most unpopular. The -last thing he would have desired would be to have them in his house. -None of the servants were from Groton and he would not have them -associating with local people." - -Anthony Trent ruminated for a little. So far nothing had been developed -which offered a reasonable solution of the problem. And the problem for -him was a different one from that which would confront the police. -Trent's problem was to secure the Takowaja emerald. So far neither of -the Westwards had mentioned it. Probably for the reason that they did -not know of its existence. It would be unwise, he decided, to try to -lead them to talk of the dead man's collection of jewels. But he felt -reasonably certain in his own mind that in this carefully guarded house, -replete with burglar alarms and safety appliances, the treasure from the -Ural Mountains had been reposing within a dozen hours. The stranger who -had come after a score of years and had left murder in his trail, was -more likely to have come for the great green stone than anything else. - -"I wish I could have a look at the place," he said presently. - -"Amateur detective?" laughed Mrs. Westward. - -"I can't imagine anything being more exciting," he admitted, "than to -follow this mysterious man except, perhaps, to be the man himself and -outwit the detectives." - -"Why not take Mr. Trent up there, Charles?" - -Plainly Mr. Westward was not eager to do so. This was due to a dislike -to invade premises under police supervision to which he had no business -except a friendly curiosity. Still there would be no harm done. He had -known the Apthorpes for years and perhaps Anthony Trent might be an aid. -Some one had told him Trent was an expert in the oil market. He had no -reason to believe him anything but a man of probity. - -"It might be arranged," he said slowly. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE MURDER OF ANDREW APTHORPE - - -THE Apthorpe estate ran parallel to the main street of the town but the -house itself was perched on a hill almost a mile distant from it. A long -winding ascent led to a big stone, turreted mansion commanding an -extensive view of the country that lay about it. A well kept lawn three -hundred yards in width surrounded the house. - -"The place was built," Mr. Westward explained, "by Colonel Crofton, the -railroad man. On this lawn were great beds of rhododendrons which cost a -great deal of money. When Apthorpe bought it he had them torn up and -sown in grass. He said the flower beds and shrubberies were places where -burglars might conceal themselves by day to break in by night." - -"He was certainly suspicious," Trent commented. - -Westward pointed to the house which rose like a fortress above them. - -"When Crofton had it there were windows on the ground level and several -entrances. Apthorpe had them filled with granite all except that big -doorway opposite." - -By this time Trent was near enough to see that the house was not remote -from buildings such as the stables and garages which are adjacent to -most such residences. He remarked on the peculiarity. - -"The automobiles are kept in the basement of the house," Westward -explained. "The big doors I pointed out to you cannot be opened by the -chauffeurs. When they want to go out or come in they have to phone for -permission. Then Mr. Apthorpe or some one else would touch a button in -his big living room and the gates would swing open. He had a searchlight -on the tower until the Federal authorities forbade it." - -"It seems to me he must have lived in dread of violence," Trent -observed, "and yet why should he? He was a well known Boston broker of -an old New England family, not the kind one would think involved in -crime. In fiction it is the man who comes home after spending half his -life in the mysterious East that one suspects of robbing gods of their -jeweled eyes and incurring the sworn vengeances of their priests." - -"All men who collect precious stones live in dread," Charles Westward -said. "I've never seen any of his things. I'm not interested in them -particularly. I've always talked about fishing when I've been there, but -it's common knowledge that he was going to leave his valuables to the -Museum of Fine Arts. One of the things which incensed his wife was that -he wouldn't give her or her daughter any of the jewels but preferred to -keep them locked away." - -A flight of twenty granite steps led to the main entrance, two heavily -built, metal studded doors. A lofty hall was disclosed with a circular -stairway around it. Leading from the hall to what seemed the main room -on that floor was a flight of six steps. The chestnut doors had been -shattered. Obviously it was the room in which Apthorpe had met his -death. For the rest it looked in no way different from half a hundred -other rooms in big houses which Trent had investigated professionally. -Bookshelves not more than four feet in height lined three sides of the -apartment. Making a pretense of reading the titles Trent looked to see -whether they were indeed volumes or mere blinds. The policeman in -charge, knowing Mr. Westward well, was only too willing to show him and -his friend what was to be seen. The body, he explained, was in an upper -chamber. - -One peculiarity Trent noted in the book cases. Apparently there was no -way to open them. They were of metal painted over. If keyholes existed -they were hidden from view. Fearing that the policeman in charge would -notice his scrutiny, he walked over to the open window and looked out. -It was from this that the murderer made his escape. Twelve feet below -the green closely cropped turf touched the granite foundation of the -walls. - -When Mr. Westward offered him a cigar he took out his pipe instead and -knocked out the ashes against the window ledge. Mr. Westward heard an -exclamation of annoyance and asked its cause. Then he saw that while the -stem of the pipe remained in its owner's hand the bowl had fallen to the -lawn below. - -"I won't be a minute," Trent said, and went down the main steps to the -grounds. It was no accident that led him to drop his favorite briar. His -keen eyes had seen footprints in the grass as he looked down. They might -well be the marks of him who had stolen the famous emerald and Trent had -decreed a private vendetta against one who might have robbed him for -what he came into Massachusetts. Searching for the pipe bowl which he -had instantly detected he made a rapid examination of the ground. - -There were indeed footprints made undoubtedly by some one dropping from -the end of the portiere to the soft turf. And as he gazed, the -mysterious man whom he had suspected faded into thin air. They were the -imprints of the high heels that only women wear! Carefully he followed -them as far as the big gates of the garage. They were not distinct to -any but a trained observer. They were single tracks leading from the -grass beneath the window to the garage. Not an unnecessary step had been -taken. Apparently the local police had pulled in the portiere from the -window and had made no examination of the grass below. - -Trent noticed that a man, evidently a gardener, was approaching him. -Quickly he dropped the bowl of his pipe again among some clover. The man -was eager and obliging. Furthermore he had heavily shod feet which were -already making their impression on the turf to the undoing of any who -might seek, as Anthony Trent had done, to make a careful examination. -Already the high heeled imprints were obliterated. - -When the pipe was found the man insisted on speaking of the murder. He -declared that for an hour on the fatal night a big touring car had been -drawn up near his cottage in a lane nearby and that two men got out of -it leaving another in charge. - -Trent shook him off as soon as he could and returned to the house, his -previously held theories wholly upset. He had built them in the facts or -falsities carefully supplied by Miss Thompson and he was anxious to see -the lady. It was most likely that the woman who had lowered herself from -the window was the woman who had committed the murder. And for what -could the crimes have been committed so readily as the Takowaja emerald? - -He recalled now that there had been a certain reserve in the Westwards' -manner when they had spoken of Miss Thompson. Might they not have -suspected her and yet feared to voice these suspicions to a stranger? - -As he thought it over he came to the conclusion that it was not of the -crime of murder they suspected her but perhaps because of her relations -with so notorious a man as the late Andrew Apthorpe. He remembered that -the dead man's family was alienated from him, possibly for this very -reason. - -He was given an opportunity very shortly to see the nurse. She came -along the hall, not seeing him as he stood in the entrance, and made her -way toward Mr. Westward. She was a tall woman, quietly dressed and not -in nurses' uniform. Her walk was studied and her gestures exaggerated. -She was that hard, blond type overladen with affectation to one who -observed carelessly. But Trent could see she had a jaw like a prize -fighter and her carefully pencilled eyes were intrinsically bellicose. -She had a big frame and was, he judged, muscularly strong. And of course -nurses must have good nerves. If she had the emerald he was determined -to obtain, it would not be an easy conquest. - -Her greeting of Mr. Westward was effusive. Indeed it seemed too effusive -to please him. He was courteous and expressed sympathy. She talked -volubly. She related in detail the events of the previous night and the -listener noticed that she was letter perfect. The only new angle he got -was a description of the supposed murderer. According to Nurse Thompson -he was about fifty, wore a short grizzled moustache, was of medium -height but very broad, and dressed in a dark gray suit. In accent she -judged him to be a Westerner. She would recognize him, she declared -dramatically, among ten million. - -Trent had no wish to meet her--yet. He had seen her, recognized a -predacious and formidable type and had observed she wore expensive shoes -with fashionably high heels. - -Presently Charles Westward joined him. - -"I've been talking to Miss Thompson," he volunteered. - -"I saw you," Trent said, "but supposed it was one of the family. She -wasn't dressed as a nurse." - -"She doesn't act like one," Westward answered. "Richmond was right. That -woman drinks. I don't like her, Mr. Trent." - -"I suppose she needs sympathy now that her position is lost?" - -The more Anthony Trent thought over the matter the more thoroughly he -became convinced that the mysterious stranger of whom the nurse spoke -had no existence. If she had killed her employer she would not have done -so unless it were to her advantage. And what better reason could there -be, were she criminally minded, than some of his famous jewels? Trent -determined to follow the thing up. He chuckled to think that he was now -on the opposite side of the fence, the hunter instead of the hunted. -But that was no reason that he should aid his enemy the law. If he -devoted his talents to the running down of the murderer he wanted the -reward for himself. - -Supposing that she had planned the crime, the opportunity was hers when -she had the old man alone in the house. She would have been far too -clever to use her knowledge of drugs to poison him. By such a ruse she -would inevitably have incurred suspicion. If his assumption were correct -she had been very clever. At eight o'clock she had started the ball -rolling. At nine she had strengthened her position by some acting clever -enough to deceive Mrs. Westward. And when they had reached her primed by -her story of the threatening stranger they had found her waiting -hysterically for their aid. No doubt she had been drinking. Most women -hate using firearms for violent purposes unless the act is one of -suddenly inspired fury when the deed almost synchronizes with the -impelling thought. - -She had planned the thing carefully. She had, if his theory held, -probably shot the old man as he sat reading. Then she had locked and -barred the great doors and lowered herself to the ground and entered by -the garage door which she could have opened from above. Thus the men -coming to her aid found a scene prepared which her ingenuity had led -them to expect as entirely reasonable. - -"By the way," he demanded suddenly, "how long was the doctor or coroner -in getting to Mr. Apthorpe?" - -"He didn't get there until midnight. His motor broke down." - -It was thus impossible to fix accurately the time of Apthorpe's death. - -As they turned from the drive into Groton's main street a big limousine -passed them. To its occupants Mr. Westward raised his hat. - -"Mrs. Apthorpe," he explained, "her daughter and son-in-law, Hugh -Fanwood. The other man was Wilkinson the lawyer who acts for Mrs. -Apthorpe." He paused as another car turned into the drive. "Look like -detectives," he commented. "We are well out of it." - -That night Anthony Trent went back to New York. Twenty-four hours later -his fast runabout drew up at the Westward's hospitable home. - -"I brought my car over from Boston," he explained untruthfully, "on my -way back to New York by way of the Berkshires and dropped in to see if -there was any news in the Apthorpe murder case. The Boston papers had -very little I didn't already know." - -He learned a great deal that interested him. First that Nurse Thompson -had been left fifty thousand dollars in the Apthorpe will. This, on the -advice of counsel, would not be contested, as the widow desired, on the -ground of undue influence. Her daughter Mrs. Hugh Fanwood was not -desirous of publicity. - -Secondly one of the most famous jewels in the world had been stolen. - -"Imagine it," Mrs. Westward exclaimed, "for five years an emerald that -was once in a Tsarina's crown has been within a mile of us and not a -soul in Groton knew of it. It was worth a fortune. _Now_ we know why the -poor man was done to death." - -"Have they any clue?" he demanded. - -"They have offered a reward of ten thousand dollars. Miss Thompson's -description of the man has been circulated widely and caused arrests in -every town in the state. The house is being searched by a detective -agency but we all believe it's useless. I don't think Amelia Apthorpe -behaved at all well. She insisted on having everybody searched who was -in the house. Not Charles of course but every one she didn't know and -some whom she did." - -"I was in the house," Trent reminded them, "perhaps I ought to offer -myself." - -"No, no," Westward exclaimed, "I told Mrs. Apthorpe who you were. I said -you bought the Stanley camp on Kennebago and that I could vouch for -you." - -"That's mighty nice of you," Trent responded warmly. It was at a moment -like this when he realized he was deceiving a good sportsman that he -hated the life he had chosen. It was one of the reasons that he denied -himself friends. "Did she have any sort of scrap with Miss Thompson?" - -"It's too mild a word," said Westward. "After the nurse's things were -searched she was told to go. Then she said she should bring an action -against Mrs. Apthorpe for defamation of character and illegal search. -She promised that there would be enough scandal unearthed to satisfy -even the yellow press. I don't suppose poor Amelia Apthorpe knew there -were such lurid words in or out of the dictionary until the Thompson -woman flung them at her." - -"Will she bring action, do you think?" - -"I think she's too shrewd. From what Hugh Fanwood told me they had -looked up her record and found it shady. She _was_ a graduate nurse -once. Her diploma is genuine and the doctor here tells me she knew her -business, but there are other things that she wouldn't want in print. I -think we've seen the last of her. She'll get her fifty thousand dollars -and when she's gone through that she'll find some other old fool to fall -for her." - -So far, Trent's conjecture as to her character had been accurate. The -death of Apthorpe meant a large sum of money to her while the legacy -remained unrevoked. He could not marry her since he was not divorced -from his wife. Perhaps he had believed in her sufficiently to show her -his peerless emerald. Or perhaps he had only hinted at its glories and -she had become possessed of the secret of its whereabouts. In any case -Anthony Trent firmly believed she had it. It was quite likely that she -had secreted it somewhere in the grounds of the mansion to retrieve it -without risk later on. What woman except Nurse Thompson would have -lowered herself from the room to the turf below on the night of the -murder? And was it not likely that the emerald was the cause of the -tragedy? The whole history of precious stones could be written in blood. -In any case it was a working hypothesis sound enough for Trent to have -faith in. - -In accordance with the advice of lawyers and relatives Mrs. Andrew -Apthorpe decided to place no obstacle in the way of the departure of -Nurse Thompson. She told Mrs. Westward she was certain the woman had -taken the diamond ring she flaunted and that it had not been a gift, as -she claimed, from her employer. Furthermore it was evident that she had -made a good deal of money in padding the household expenses. - -Detectives, meanwhile, clinging faithfully to the description so -generously amplified by Miss Thompson of the thief in the night, were -hunting everywhere for him and his loot. - -The _West Groton Gazette_ supplied Anthony Trent with some much needed -information. It printed in its social columns the news that Miss Norah -Thompson was to make an extended stay in the West, making her first long -stop at San Francisco. Until then she was staying with a married sister -in East Boston. Since the name was given in full Anthony Trent had -little difficulty in finding what he needed. An operative from a Boston -detective agency gleaned the facts while Trent made a pleasant stay at -the Touraine. To the operative he was a Mr. Graham Maltby of Chicago. - -When he went West on the same train as the now resplendent Miss Norah -Thompson he was possessed of a vast amount of information concerning -her. In St. Louis six years before she had badly beaten a man whom she -declared had broken his engagement to marry her. She was a singularly -violent disposition and had figured in half a dozen cases which wound up -in police courts. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A THIEF TO CATCH A THIEF - - -IT was not a matter of much difficulty for Trent, still Mr. Maltby, to -become acquainted with male members of the set in San Francisco which -Miss Thompson affected. He knew that she dined each night at a café -which attracted many motion picture people. And he learned that there -was a producer from Los Angeles now looking for easy money in San -Francisco who was very friendly with her. Since this man Weiller was -easy of approach to such as seemed prosperous it was not difficult for -Trent to strike up an acquaintance one day at the St Charles. Weiller -first of all, as became a loyal native son, spoke of climate. Then with -even greater enthusiasm he spoke of the movies as money-makers. He -wanted to get a little money together, put on a feature and sell it. He -arranged all the details on the back of a St. Charles menu card. He had -an idea which, if William Reynard of New York could learn of it, would -bring that eminent producer of features a cool million. - -Anthony Trent hung back with the lack of interest a man with money to -invest may properly exhibit. Weiller was sure he had money. He lived at -a first class hotel, he dined well and he was a "dresser" to be admired. -Also Weiller had seen a sizeable roll of bills on occasion. - -There came a night when at Anthony Trent's expense, Miss Norah Thompson, -Weiller and a svelte girl called by Weiller California's leading -"anjenou," partook of a sumptuous repast. Had it not been that Trent was -out for business the whole thing would have disgusted him. Weiller and -Norah were blatantly vulgar and intent on impressing their host. The -"anjenou" said a hundred times that he was like one of her dearest -"gentlemen friends" now being featured by the Jewbird Film company. Her -friend was handsome but she liked Anthony's nose better. - -With coffee came the great scheme. Weiller wanted to make a five reel -feature of the Andrew Apthorpe murder. Norah Thompson was to play the -lead! - -"It'll knock 'em dead!" cried Weiller. "Gee! What press agent stuff!" He -helped himself with a hand trembling from excitement to another gulp of -wine. "My boy, you're in luck. We'll go into this thing on equal shares. -I'm putting up fifty thousand dollars and you shall put up a like sum. -We'll clear up five hundred per cent." - -"You've put up fifty thousand in actual cash?" Trent demanded. - -"That's what I capitalize my knowledge of pictures at," Weiller -explained. - -"George is one of the best known producers in the game," Miss Thompson -said, a trifle nettled at what she thought was a smile of contempt on -the other's face. "He don't need your money. I've got enough in this bag -right here to produce it." She waived a black moiré bag before Trent's -eyes. - -George Weiller looked at her and frowned. What a foolish project, he -thought, to spend one's own money when here was a victim. - -"You keep that, little one," he said generously. "We're gentlemen; we -don't want to take a lady's money. We'll talk it over later." - -A keen salesman, he noted Trent was growing restive. If the matter were -persisted in he might either take a fright or take offence. All this he -explained later. "You see, Norah," he remarked, "that guy has a chin on -him that means you can't drive him." - -"He's got a cold, nasty eye," said Norah who was not without her just -fears of strangers. - -"I'm going to play the game so he'll beg me to let him in on it," -Weiller boasted. "I know the way to play that sort of bird." - -The negotiations resulted in Trent's seeing a great deal more of this -precious couple than he cared for. The "anjenou" finding her charms made -no impression on him was rarely included in the little dinners and -excursions. - -It was when Trent had met Miss Thompson a dozen times that he consulted -the notes he had made on each occasion. It was a method of working -unique so far as he could learn. It might yield no results in a thousand -cases. In the thousand and first it might be the clue. It was nothing -more than a list of the costumes he had seen the ex-nurse wear. - -On going through the list he saw that whereas Miss Thompson had worn a -new dress on each occasion of the dinners in public restaurants with -shoes and hosiery to harmonize or match the color scheme of her gown she -had always carried the black moiré bag. And since it was a fashion of -the moment for women to own many and elaborate bags of this sort to -match or harmonize with the color scheme or details of their costumes, -it seemed odd that Norah Thompson, who had been buying everything that -seemed modish, should fail to follow the way of the well dressed. - -The bag as he remembered it was about seven inches wide and perhaps ten -inches long. It was closed by a silver buckle and a pendant of some sort -swung at each corner. Concentrating upon it he remembered they were not -beads but made of the same material as the bag itself and in size about -that of an English walnut. He called to mind the fact that he had never -seen her without this bag. Why should she cling so closely to what was -already demodé? Were he a genuine detective the problem had been an easy -one. He could seize the bag, search it and denounce her. But that would -entail giving up a priceless stone for a few thousand dollars of reward. - -On the pretext of having to buy a present for a Chicago cousin, Anthony -Trent led the willing Weiller into one of the city's exclusive -department stores. Weiller was anxious to do anything and everything for -his new friend. That night he, Norah and some other friends were to be -Trent's guests at a very recherché dinner. He felt, as the born salesman -senses these things, that he would get his answer that night and that it -would be favorable. And with fifty thousand dollars to play with he -might do anything. Probably the last project would be to make a picture -himself. - -Trent asked to be shown the very latest thing in bags. The counter was -presently laden with what the salesgirl claimed to be direct -importations from Paris. Trent selected one which he said would suit -his cousin. - -"You ought to get one for Norah," he said. "What color is she going to -wear to-night?" - -"Light blue," Weiller returned almost sulkily. He had been with her when -she purchased the gown and resented the extravagance. If she went on at -that rate there would be nothing left for him. "What they call gentian -blue." - -The salesgirl picked out an exquisite blue bag on which the lilies of -France had been painted daintily by hand. It was further decorated with -a border of fleur-de-lis in seed pearls. - -"This is the biggest bargain we have," the girl assured them. "The -government won't allow any more to be brought over. It's marked down to -a hundred dollars." She looked at George Weiller, "Will you take it?" - -"I'm not sure it's the shade my friend wants," he prevaricated. In -reality he cursed Trent for dragging him into a proposition which could -cost such a sum. He had not a tenth of the amount upon him. - -"I'll take it," Trent said carelessly, pushing a hundred dollar bill -over the counter, "I've plenty of cousins and girls always like these -things." - -Weiller sighed enviously. He often remarked if he could capitalize his -brains he would pay an income tax of a million dollars; but that did not -prevent him from being invariably short of ready money. - -He was looking forward to the dinner Trent was to give him and his -friends that night. Besides Norah there were five other moving picture -people who were to be used to impress Trent with their knowledge of the -game and the money he could make out of it. They would be amply repaid -by the dinner; for there are those who serve the screened drama whose -salaries are small. These ancilliary salesmen and women were to meet at -half past six in the furnished flat Norah Thompson had rented. There -they were to be drilled. - -It was while they were receiving the finishing touches that Anthony -Trent knocked upon the door, blandly announcing that he had brought an -automobile to take Norah and George to the hotel where he was staying. - -Instantly the gathering registered impatience to start. Weiller, always -suspicious, feared that Trent might think it curious that so many were -engaged in earnest conversation, and he wondered if their voices had -carried to the hall where Trent had waited. - -Suave and courteous, Trent made himself at home among the crowd of -people who were, so they informed him, world famous in a screen sense. - -Trent, as usual, had timed things accurately. It was part of his scheme -that Norah should want to banish from his mind the idea that there had -been any collusion. She was bright and vivacious in her manner toward -him. - -"You are a sweet man," she exclaimed, "I'm dreadfully hungry--and -thirsty. Come on boys and girls." - -He noticed that although arrayed in a new costume of blue, she clung to -her back moiré bag. He called Weiller aside while Norah mixed a last -cocktail for the men. - -"George," he whispered, "that blue bag I bought is just the thing to -give Norah." George felt a parcel thrust into his hand. "It's a little -present from me to you and she mustn't know I bought it." - -"She shan't from me," Weiller said almost tremulously. Nothing could -have happened more delightfully. Not ten minutes ago in the presence of -his even less prosperous motion picture colleagues, Norah had called him -a tightwad who didn't think enough of the woman he was to marry to buy -her a ring. He explained that easily enough by saying nothing in San -Francisco was good enough for her and that he was ordering one from New -York. This present from a rich and careless spender would prove -affluence no less than affection. "Thanks, old man, a million times." - -Norah was at the door when he presented it. She was genuinely affected -by the gift. Perhaps her thanks were even warmer when one of her friends -picked up the sales slip which had fluttered to the ground and read -aloud the price. "I'm tired of that black bag," George complained. - -"Norah's never going to carry that when she's got this," one of the -other women cried. "It matches her gown exactly." - -"I took care of that," George said complacently. "I told the saleswoman -to get me the best she had but it must be gentian blue." - -There seemed a momentary hesitation before the black bag was discarded. -To cling to it at such a moment would be to court suspicion. This was -Trent's strategy. Her manner was not lost upon one of the others, a -character woman named Richards. - -"Why, George," she laughed, "I believe a former lover gave Norah that -bag and she hates to part with it. I was in a picture once where the -heroine carried the ashes of her first sweetheart around with her. I'd -look into it if I was you." - -Nonchalantly Norah emptied the contents of the black bag into the new -one. Then she pitched the old one onto a chair. - -"Now for the eats," she said cheerily. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE SECRET OF THE BLACK BAG - - -THE dinner was a wearisome affair to Trent. His companions were vulgar, -their conversation tedious and the flattery they offered him nauseous. -It was exactly half-past nine when a waiter came to his side and told -him there was a long distance call for him from Denver. Apologizing he -left the table. - -"His brother is a mining man out in Colorado," Weiller informed the -company. "They're a rich bunch, the Chicago Maltbys." - -"They can't come too rich for us," one of his friends chuckled. "Pass me -the wine, George." - -"This is a great little opportunity for rehearsing," Weiller reminded -them. "I've got to sign this bird up to-night. If I do we'll have -another little dinner on Saturday with a souvenir beside each plate." - -Directly Trent reached the hotel lobby he slipped the waiter a five -dollar bill. "If they get impatient," he cautioned the man, "say I'm -still busy on the long distance and must not be interrupted." - -Five minutes later he opened the door of Norah's flat and turned on the -light. There, upon a chair, was the bag on which he had built so many -hopes. His long sensitive fingers felt each of the pendants. Then with -the small blade of a pocket knife he cut a few stitches and drew out the -Takowaja emerald. For a full minute he gazed at its green glittering -glory. Then from a waistcoat pocket he took the brilliant which had been -purchased with the Benares lamp. They were much of a size and he placed -the glass where the jewel had been and with a needle of black silk -already prepared sewed up the cut stitches. The whole time occupied from -entering the apartment to leaving it was not five minutes. He was back -with his guests within a quarter of an hour. - -"You must have had good news," Norah exclaimed when he took his seat. -His face which had been expressionless before was now lighted up. He was -a new man, vivacious, witty and bubbling over with fun. - -"I had very good news," he smiled, "I put through a deal which means a -whole lot to me. Let's have some more wine to celebrate." - -The dinner was taking place in a private room and he had insisted that -the service be of the best. Now he was free from the tension that -inevitably preceded one of his adventures he could enjoy himself. For -the first time he looked at the omnibus by the door behind him. It was -not the youthful fledgling waiter he expected to see but a big, dark man -with a black moustache and imperial. Norah observed his glance. - -"George offered to star him as the mysterious count but the poor wop -don't speak English." - -"I'll bet he left spaghetti land because he done a murder," George -commented, "a nasty looking rummy I call him." - -"I'll swear he wasn't here when I went to the 'phone," said Trent. "I -should have noticed him." - -None heard him. The new bottle demanded attention. There was something -vaguely familiar about the face but for the life of him Trent could not -place it. Uneasily he was aware that the man of whom this strange waiter -reminded him had come at a moment of danger. The more he looked the more -certain he was that imperial and moustache were the disguising features. -But it is not easy to strip such appendages off in the mind's eye and -see clearly what lies beneath. But there was a way to do so. On the back -of an envelope Trent sketched the waiter as he appeared. It was a good -likeness. Then with the rubber on his pencil end he erased moustache and -imperial. The face staring at him now was beyond a question that of -Devlin, the man who had run foul of him over the case of the Mount Aubyn -ruby. He remembered now that Devlin had left Jerome Dangerfield's employ -to join a New York detective agency. - -What was Devlin doing here disguised as a waiter if not on his trail? -And pressed against his side was a stone of world fame. There was no -possibility of escape. The dining room was twenty feet from the street -below and he had no way of reaching it. The door was guarded by Devlin -and outside in the corridor waiters flitted to and fro. "Old Sir Richard -caught at last." - -He was roused from his eager scheming by a waiter asking what liqueur he -would have. Automatically he ordered the only liqueur he liked, green -chartreuse. Would Devlin allow the party to break up? If so he had a -place of safety already prepared for the emerald. But if arrest and -search were to take place before he could reach his room there was no -help. He would be lucky to get off with fifteen years. - -Something told him that Devlin was about to act. Waiters were now -grouped about the door. He knew that Devlin must long ago have marked -him down and this was the final scene. And yet, oddly enough, when -suddenly the door closed and a truculent detective advanced to the table -tearing off moustache and imperial, Anthony Trent, who had not left his -seat, had no longer the incriminating stone upon him. He felt, in fact, -reasonably secure. - -"Quiet youze," Devlin shouted and flashed a badge at them. Five of the -eight felt certain he had come for them. Weiller owed much money in the -vicinity of Fort Lee, New Jersey and was never secure. And more than -that he had passed many opprobrious remarks concerning the waiter whom -he supposed did not understand him. - -"I'm employed," said Devlin, "to recover the emerald stolen from the -home of the late Andrew Apthorpe of Groton, Massachusetts, on the third -of last month, and you can be searched here or in the station house." - -"It's an outrage," exclaimed Miss Richards the character woman. - -"Sure it is," Devlin agreed cynically, "but what are you going to do -about it?" - -A woman operative was introduced who took the ladies of the party into -an adjoining room for search. The emerald was not found. The search -revealed merely, that Miss Richards had been souvenir hunting and her -spoils were a knife, spoon and olive fork. - -The men had passed the ordeal successfully. That they had made the most -of their host's temporary absence the pockets full of cigars, cigarettes -and salted almonds testified. Anthony Trent seemed hugely amused at the -procedure. Alone of them he did not breathe suits for defamation of -character and the like. - -"I have rooms here," he reminded Devlin, "by all means search them." - -"I have," snapped the other, showing his teeth. - -"I regret I didn't bring my golf clubs," Trent taunted him. - -"I hope I'll put you in a place where they don't play golf," Devlin -cried angrily. "I'm wise to you." - -"It's good he's wise to something," shouted Miss Richards. - -"Isn't it?" Trent returned equably. "I've had no experience of it so -far." He resumed his seat and beckoned a waiter, "Some more coffee. Sit -down, ladies, the ordeal is over." - -"Not by a long shot," snarled Devlin, "I've got a search warrant to -search the apartment rented by Norah Thompson and I want you, Weiller, -to come with me." He turned to the moving picture celebrities--self -confessed celebrities--"as for you, you'd better beat it quick." - -Devlin's last impression of the ornate dining room was the sight of the -debonair Trent sipping his green chartreuse. Devlin ground his strong -teeth when the other raised the green filled glass and drank his health. - -He was not to know that in the glass invisible amid the enveloping fluid -was the Takowaja emerald, slipped there in the moment of peril. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -DEVLIN'S PROMISE - - -HALF an hour later the stone, reposing in a tin box of cigarettes, was -in the mails on the way to Trent's camp at Kennebago. Mrs. Kinney had -instructions to hold all mail and its safety was thus assured. There was -nothing more to fear. He wanted very much to know what had happened at -Miss Thompson's apartment and proposed to call after breakfast. - -But Devlin called first upon him. It was a depressed Devlin. Not indeed -a Devlin come to be apologetic, but one less assured. - -"Well?" said Trent affably, "come to search me again. I'm getting a -little tired of it, my good man." - -"I want to know why you pass here under the name of Maltby of Chicago -when your name is Trent and you live in New York City." - -"A private detective has no right to demand any such knowledge. Last -night you took upon yourself powers and authority which we could have -resisted if we chose. You had no legal right to search us. I submitted -first because I had nothing to fear and secondly to see if the others -had the stone. I didn't think they had." - -"What do you know about the stone?" Devlin demanded suspiciously. - -"Everything except just where it is at this present moment. Between you -and me, Devlin, I'm here after it too. I was at Groton, as can easily be -proved, on the day after the murder." Trent smiled as a curious look -passed over the detective's face, "I'm going to disappoint you. I passed -the day and night in Boston when the murder was done. I have just as -much use for that ten thousand dollars as you have. By the way I suppose -you got the stone?" - -"Like hell I did," Devlin cried red in the face, "I got this." He showed -Trent the piece of cut glass which had hung in his room for so long. -"Glass, that's what it is." Devlin leaned forward and looked hard into -Anthony Trent's eyes. "You know more about this than you pretend. It -ain't accident that brings you around when two such stones as -Dangerfield's ruby and this here emerald get stolen. There's something -more to it than that. There's something mighty queer about you, Mister -Anthony Trent, and I'm going to see what it is." - -Trent looked at him for a moment and then smiled. It was the tolerant -smile of the superior. It angered Devlin. His red face grew redder -still. - -"My good Devlin," said Trent, "stupidity such as yours may be a good -armor but it is a poor diving suit." - -"Talk sense," Devlin commanded. - -"If you wish," Trent agreed easily. "I mean that you haven't the mental -equipment to live up to your desires. You have the impertinence to think -_you_ can outwit _me_. I'm your superior in everything. Mentally, -morally and physically I can beat you and in your heart you know it. I -think I've stood about as much from you as I care to take from any man. -For a time you amused me. At Sunset Park you thought you were being -very subtle searching my room with your twin ass, O'Brien, but I was -laughing at you." - -"You was drunk," said Devlin slowly. - -"That's how gin takes me," said the other, "I see the ludicrous in men -and things. Just listen to me. My past and present bears investigation. -You looked me up and you know." Trent drew his bow at a venture. "You -found that out, didn't you?" - -"Because I couldn't find anything against you doesn't prove you're what -you pretend," Devlin admitted grudgingly. - -"The point I wish to make is this," Anthony Trent said incisively, "I'm -tired of you. You bore me. You weary me. You exasperate me. I am willing -to overlook your blundering stupidity this time but if you worry me -again I shall go after you so hard you'll wish you'd never heard my -name. I've got money and that means influence. You've neither. Think it -over. Now get out." - -Devlin looked at him doubtfully. There was a strong personal animus -against Anthony Trent. He hated anything suave, smiling or polite. And -when these qualities were in conjunction with physical prowess they -spelled danger. But for the moment nothing was to be gained by violence. -Devlin essayed a genial air. - -"We all of us make mistakes," he admitted. "I'm willing to say it. I'm -sorry I've gone wrong over this case." He held out a big short fingered -hand. "Good-bye." - -"What's the use?" Trent demanded. "You will always be my enemy and I -never shake hands with an enemy if I can get out of it." - -Devlin was at a loss for the moment. It had been his experience that -when he offered a hand it was grasped gladly, eagerly. There was -something in this harder unsmiling Trent which impressed him against his -will. - -"They shake hands before the last round of a prize fight," he reminded -the other man. - -"So they do," said Trent smiling a little, and offered his hand. - - * * * * * - -Two weeks later he was compelled to concede that Devlin's pertinacity -sometimes won its reward. - -Devlin had always been an advocate of the third degree. Together with -some operatives from his agency he staged a gruesome drama into which -hysterical and frightened the drink-enervated Norah Thompson was -dragged. Under the pitiless cross-examination of these hard men she -broke down. Andrew Apthorpe's murderer was found. But the triumph was -incomplete. She convinced them that although the emerald had been hers -for a time, of its destination or present ownership she had no idea. She -went into penal servitude for life with a newspaper notoriety that made -the Takowaja emerald the most famous stone in existence. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -ON THE TRAIL OF "THE COUNTESS" - - -The expert has usually a critical sense well developed. It was so with -Anthony Trent. He read the details of all the crimes treated in the -daily press almost jealously. What the police regarded as clever -criminals were seldom such in his eyes. There were occasionally crimes -which won his admiration but they were few and far between. Violence to -Trent's mind was a confession of incompetency, the grammar school type -of crime to a university trained mind. One morning the papers were -unusually full of such examples of robberies with attendant assaults. -Clumsy work, he commented, and then came to a robbery in Long Island of -jewels whose aggregate value was more than a hundred thousand dollars. - -The home of Peter Chalmers Rosewarne at the Montauk Point end of Long -Island was the victimized abode. All Americans knew Peter Chalmers -Rosewarne. He was the "Tin King," enormously wealthy, splendidly -generous and fortune's favorite. His father had been a Cornish mining -captain who had come from Huel Basset to make a million in the United -States. His son had made ten millions. - -His Long Island place, known as St. Michael's Mount after that estate in -Cornwall near where his father had been born, was a show place. The -gardens were extraordinary. The house was filled with treasures which -only the intelligent rich may gather together. Rosewarne was a convivial -soul in the best sense of the phrase. He loved company and he loved -display and more than all he loved his wife on whom he showered the -beautiful things women adore. Abstractors of precious stones would -gravitate naturally to such a home as his. - -Anthony Trent remembered that the Rosewarne strain of Airedales was the -best the breed had to show. He had read once that Rosewarne turned his -dogs loose at nights and laughed burglars to scorn. And well he might, -for of all dogs, the gods have blessed none with such sense as the -Airedales possess. Theirs not to bark indiscriminately or bite their -master's friends. Theirs to reason why: to know instinctively what is -hidden from the lesser breeds. - -A dozen such dogs roaming their master's grounds, their guardian -instincts aroused, would effectually bar out strangers. That a robbery -had been committed at St. Michael's Mount spelled for Trent an inside -job. The papers told him that a large house party was gathered under the -hospitable Rosewarne roof. Rosewarne himself indignantly denied the -possibility of his guests' guilt. The servants seemed equally -satisfactory. - -Sifting the news Anthony Trent learned that the suspected person was a -girl who had been member of a picnic party using the Rosewarne grounds. -There was a space of nearly ten acres which the mining man had reserved -for parties, suitably recommended, who made excursions from the -Connecticut side of the Sound. Here Sunday Schools passed blameless days -and organized clambakes. The party to which the suspected girl belonged -was a camp for working girls situated on one of the Thimble Islands. - -Nearly forty of them, enjoying the privilege of the Rosewarne grounds, -had spent the day there. Mrs. Rosewarne herself had seen them depart -into the evening mist. Then she had seen, thirty minutes later, a girl -running to the water's edge. She was dressed, as were the others of her -party, with red trimmed middy blouse and red ribbons in her hair. A -brunette, rather tall and slight, and awed when the chatelaine of the -great estate asked what was the matter. It seemed she had become tired -and had slept. When she awoke the boat was gone; she had not been -missed. - -Mrs. Rosewarne was not socially inept enough to bring the simple girl to -her own sophisticated dinner table. Instead the girl had an ample meal -in the housekeeper's room. At nine o'clock a fast launch was to be ready -to take her to her camp. It might easily overtake the sail boat if the -breezes died down. - -At nine-fifteen the mechanician in charge of the boat came excitedly -into the house to relate his unhappy experiences. The girl, wrapped in -motor coat, was safely in the boat when she begged the man to get her a -glass of water from the boat house at the dock. It was while he was -doing so that the boat disappeared. He heard her call to him in fright -and then saw the boat--one capable of twenty knots an hour--glide away -with the girl holding her hands out to him supplicatingly. She had -fooled with the levers, he averred, and would probably perish in -consequence. It was while Rosewarne considered the matter of sending out -his yacht in pursuit that the discovery was made that a hundred -thousand dollars worth of jewels had been taken. - -The mechanician had been fooled, of that they were now assured, and the -working girl became a fleeing criminal. The sudden temptation through -seeing sparkling stones in profusion was the result. A number of boats -went in pursuit and the ferries were watched, but the fast motor launch -was not found. - -Considering the case from the evidence he had at command Trent was -certain it was no genuine member of the working girls' camp who had done -this thing. Every move spoke of careful preparation. Some one had chosen -a moment to appear at the Mount when suspicion would be removed and her -coming seem logical. And no ordinary person would have been able to -drive a high powered boat as she had done. Another thing which seemed -conclusive proof of his correctness was the fact that the girl had -overlooked--this was as the police phrased it--Mrs. Simeon Power's pearl -necklace and the diamond tiara belonging to Mrs. Campbell Glenelg. This -omission supported the police theory that it was the work of an -inexperienced criminal. - -Anthony Trent chuckled as he read this. He also had rejected the Power's -pearls and the Glenelg tiara. They had been in his appraising hand. -_They were both extraordinarily good imitations!_ Assuredly a timid -working girl could not be such a judge of this. She was a professional -and a clever one. Probably she had sunk the launch and swam ashore. - -Later reports veered around to his view. The camp people were highly -indignant at being saddled with a criminal. They had counted noses -before embarkation and none was missing. Mrs. Rosewarne described the -girl and so did the housekeeper. The latter, remarking on the slightly -foreign intonation, was told by the girl herself that she came from New -Bedford where her father was employed in a textile mill belonging to -Dangerfield. Like so many of the inhabitants of this mill town he was of -French Canadian stock and habitually spoke French in the home. But the -housekeeper who had served the wealthy in England and Continental Europe -would have it that this intruder come of a higher social class than New -Bedford mills afford. - -Interviewing the housekeeper in the guise of a Branford newspaper man -Trent asked her a hundred questions. And each one of her answers -confirmed the belief that had grown in him. This clever woman was "The -Countess." He felt certain of it. That slight intonation was hers. The -figure, the height, the coloring. And of course the exact knowledge of -what stones were good and what were not. This was another count against -her for Trent had marked St. Michael's Mount for his hunting ground and -now precautions against abstractors would be redoubled. - -He felt almost certain that this was the Countess's first exploit since -her escape from the hotel after the Guestwick robbery. He had followed -the papers too closely to miss any unusual crime. A woman of her -breeding need never drop to association with the typical criminal. Since -she was marooned in the United States during the war she was of -necessity cut off from her favorite Riviera hunting grounds. Where, -then, might she meet the wealthy set if not among the owners of big -estates on Long Island? Trent felt it probable that she was near some -such social center as Meadowbrook or Piping Rock. How was he to find -her? - -To begin with he decided to attend the Mineola Horse and Dog show. This -country fair, held during late September, invariably attracted, as he -knew, all the horse-loving polo-riding elements of the smart set. Not to -go there, not to be interested intelligently in horses, hounds and dogs -was a confession of ineligibility to the great Long Island homes. - -Although he entertained a bare hope of seeing her and passed the first -day in disappointment, he saw her almost directly he entered the show -grounds on the second morning. She looked very smart in her riding -habit, her hair was done in a more severe coiffure than he had noticed -before. She was talking to a well known society woman, also in riding -kit, a Mrs. Hamilton Buxton, famous for her horses and her loves. But he -could not judge from this whether or not the Countess was on friendly -terms with her or not. There is a _camaraderie_ among those who exhibit -horses or dogs which is of the ring-side and not the salon. Outside it -was possible Mrs. Hamilton Buxton might not recognize her. - -Later on he saw that both women were riding in the class for ladies' -hunters, to be ridden side saddle by the owners. So the Countess owned -hunters now! Well, he expected something of the sort from a woman who -had outwitted so astute a craftsman as himself. In a sense he was glad -of it. It was better to find her in such a set as this. When she rode -around the ring he saw by the number she bore that she was a Madame de -Beaulieu of Old Westbury. She rode very well. There was the _haute -école_ stamp about her work and she was placed second to Mrs. Hamilton -Buxton whose chestnut was of a better type. - -Anthony Trent went straightway to New York. He did not want to be -seen--yet. He called up a certain number and made an appointment with a -Mr. Moor. This man, David Moor, was a private detective without ambition -and without imaginative talent. It always amused Trent when he employed -a detective to find out details that were laborious in the gathering. In -some subtle manner Trent had given Moor the impression that he was a -secret service agent exceedingly high in the department. - -"Moor," he said briskly as the small and depressed David entered the -room, "I want to find all about a Madame de Beaulieu who lives in Old -Westbury, Long Island. I suspect her of being a German spy. Find out -what other members of the household there are, and who calls. Whether -they are in society or only trying to be. I want a full and reliable -report. The tradesmen know a whole lot as a rule and servants generally -talk. I want to know as soon as possible but keep on the job until you -have something real." He knew that Moor by reason of an amazingly large -family was always hard up. He handed him fifty dollars. "Take this for -expenses." - -Moor went from the room with tears in his eyes. He looked at Trent as a -loving dog looks at its master. Two years before his wife lay at the -point of death, needing, more than anything, a rest from household -worries and the noise of her offspring. Trent sent her to a sanitarium -and the children to camps for the whole of a hot summer. In his dull, -depressed fashion, Moor was always hoping that some day he could do -something to help this benefactor who waved his thanks aside. - -The report, written in Moor's small, clear writing, entertained Trent -vastly. Madame de Beaulieu was a daughter of France whose husband was -fighting as an officer of Chasseurs and had been decorated thrice. Many -pictures adorned the house of her hero. She had a French maid who -allowed herself to be very familiar with her mistress. Undoubtedly she -was the "aunt" of the Guestwick occasion. The men of the household were -doubtful according to Moor. One was Madame's secretary, an American -named Edward Conway, who looked after her properties, and the other an -Englishman, Captain Monmouth, a former officer of cavalry who had broken -an ankle in a steeple chase, so the report ran, and was debarred from -military service. He was a cousin by marriage. The servants asserted -that he was an amazingly lucky player at bridge or indeed of any card -game. So much so indeed that the neighboring estate owners who had been -inclined to be friendly were now stiffly aloof. The captain's skill at -dealing was uncanny. Bills were piling up against them all. It was due -largely to this that Moor was able to get so much information. A -vituperative tradesman sets no watch on his tongue. Conway, the -secretary, confined his work almost entirely to drinking. There were -many bitter wrangles at the table but the English tongue was never -adopted on such occasions. The part of Moor's screed which interested -Trent most was that there had been a discussion overheard by a -disgruntled maid to take in some wealthy paying guest and offer to get -him into Long Island's hunting set. It would be worth a great deal to -an ambitious man to gain an entrée into some of these famous Westbury -homes. Of course the odd household could probably not live up to such -promises but its members had done a great deal. For example, a Sunday -paper in its photogravure supplement had snapped Madame de Beaulieu -talking with Mrs. Hamilton Buxton; and Captain Monmouth was there to be -seen chatting with Wolfston Colman, the great polo player. An excellent -beginning astutely planned. - -It was while Anthony Trent debated as to whether he dare risk the -Countess's recognition of him that a wholly accidental circumstance -offered him the opportunity. - -Suffering from a slightly inflamed neck he was instructed to apply -dioxygen to the area. This he did with such cheerful liberality that his -shaving mirror next day showed him a man with black hair at the front -and a vivid blond at the back. The dioxygen had helped him to blondness -as it had helped a million brunettes of the other sex. For a moment he -was chagrined. Then he saw how it might aid. It was his intention to go -back to Kennebago for the deer hunting and accordingly he despatched -Mrs. Kinney post haste. She was used to these erratic commands and saw -nothing out of the ordinary in the fact that he was in a bath robe with -a turkish towel wound about his head. He was in dread of becoming bald -and was continually fussing with his hair. In a day or so Anthony Trent -was a changed being. His eyes had a hazel tint in them which formed not -too startling a contrast to his new blondness. He was careful to touch -up his eyebrows also. - -Shutting up his flat he registered at a newly built hotel as Oscar -Lindholm of Wisconsin. He would pass for what we assume the handsome -type of Scandinavian to be. It was at this hotel Captain Monmouth stayed -when he came to indulge in what he termed a "flutter" with the cards. -There were still a few houses in the city where one could be reasonably -sure of quiet. Hard drinking youths were barred at these houses. They -became quarrelsome. The men who played were in the main big business men -who could win without exhuberance or lose without going to the district -attorney. They were invariably good players and lost only to the -professionals. And their tragedy was that they could not tell a -professional until the game was done. Captain Monmouth always excited in -players of this type a certain spirit of contempt. He was so languid, so -gently spoken, so bored at things. And he consumed so much Scotch -whiskey that he seemed primed for sacrifice. But he was never the -altar's victim. He was always so staggered at his unexpected good -fortune that he readily offered a revenge. A servant had told David Moor -that the household was supported on these earnings. - -Captain Monmouth, stepping through the lounge on the way to his taxi, -caught sight of Oscar Lindholm. Oscar was leaning against the bar rail -talking loudly of the horse. Five hours later Oscar was still standing -at the bar and the horse was still his theme. Monmouth was a careful -soul for all his gentle languors and sauntered into the tap room and -demanded an Alexander cocktail. As became a son of Wisconsin, Oscar was -free and friendly. The "Alexander" was a new one on him, he explained, -dropping for a moment themes equine. - -Monmouth never made the mistake of offering friendship to a bar-room -stranger unless he knew exactly what he was and how he might fit into -the Monmouth scheme of things. He referred Mr. Lindholm to the guardian -of the bottles. It was the size of the Lindholm wad that decided Captain -Monmouth to accept an invitation to a golden woodcock in the grill room. -There it was that Lindholm opened his heart. He wanted to follow hounds -from the back of a horse. - -"Well, why don't you, my good sir?" Monmouth replied languidly. For a -moment a light of interest had passed across the dark blue eyes of the -ex-cavalryman. Trent knew he was interested. - -Trent explained. He said that the following of hounds near New York was -only possible to one who passed the social examination demanded by these -who controlled the hunting set. - -"You're quite right," Monmouth admitted, "for the outsider it's -impossible." - -"I'll show 'em," Oscar Lindholm returned chuckling. Then he took the -proof of an advertisement from the columns of a great New York daily and -passed it over to Monmouth. - - "Wealthy westerner wants to share home among hunting set of Long - Island. Private house and right surroundings essential. References. - O. L." - -And that light passed over the Englishman's eyes, and was succeeded by a -look of boredom. - -"You don't suppose, do you," he asked, "that the kind of people you want -to know will admit a stranger from Wisconsin into their family?" - -"Why not?" the other cried, indignantly. "Isn't this a free country and -ain't I as good as any other man?" - -"In Wisconsin, undoubtedly: I can't speak for Westbury. By the way, can -you ride?" - -"I could ride your head off," Lindholm bragged. - -"Yes?" said Monmouth softly. "Now that's very interesting. Perhaps we -could arrange a little match somewhere?" - -"Any time at all," Trent returned. He did not for a moment believe he -had a chance against Monmouth but he could afford to lose a little money -to him. In fact he was anxious for the opportunity. - -"You are staying here?" Monmouth demanded. - -Trent pushed a visiting card toward him. It was newly done. "Oscar -Lindholm, Spartan Athletic Club, Madison, Wisconsin." - -"Yes, I'm staying here," he admitted. "Are you?" - -"My home is in Westbury," Captain Monmouth replied. - -"Then you could get me right in to the set I want?" - -"Impossible," cried the other, rising stiffly to his feet. "One owes too -much to one's friends." - -"Bull!" said Oscar Lindholm rudely. "You only owe yourself anything. If -I have a lot of money and you want some of it why consult your friends? -What have they done for you?" - -"I don't care to discuss it," Captain Monmouth exclaimed. "Good night, -Mr. Lindholm." He limped away. - -Assuredly he was no simpleton. He was not sure of this blond lover of -cross-country sport. If Lindholm were genuine in his desire to break -into the sort of society he aimed at he would come back to the attack. -If he were not genuine it were wiser to shake him off. - -As for Trent, he felt reasonably sure things would come his way. But -there was a certain subtlety about these foreign gentlemen of fortune -which called for careful treading. Were he once to win his way to the -establishment of Madame de Beaulieu he would be in dangerous company. -The man who had just left him was dangerous, he sensed. The Countess -already commanded his respect. Then there was the so-called secretary -and the woman who posed now as a maid. And in the house there might be a -treasure trove that would make his wildest expenditures justified. -Looked at in a cool and reasonable manner it was a very dangerous -experiment for Anthony Trent to make. He would be one against four. One -man against a gang of international crooks, all the more deadly because -they were suave and polished. - -It was while he was breakfasting that Captain Monmouth took a seat near -him. Trent commanded his waiter to transport his food to Monmouth's -table. - -"What about that horse race?" he demanded. - -"Let me see," the other murmured. "Oh yes, you say you can ride?" - -"I can trim you up in good style," Trent said cheerfully, "any old -time." - -"What stakes?" Monmouth asked, without eagerness. "What distance? Over -the sticks or on the flat?" - -"Stakes?" Trent said as though not understanding. - -"I never ride or play cards for love," Monmouth told him. - -"That can be arranged later," Trent said, "the main thing is where can -we pull it off? Out west there's a million places but here everything is -private property." - -Captain Monmouth reflected for a moment. - -"I shall be in town again in three days' time. You'll be here?" - -"Depends what answers I get to my advertisement." - -"Oh yes," Monmouth returned, "they will be very amusing. Very amusing -indeed." - -"Why?" Trent demanded. - -"Because the people who will answer will not suit your purpose at all. -There may be many who would be glad of help in running a house in these -hard times but they dare not answer an advertisement like yours for fear -it might be known. And then again think of the risk of taking an unknown -into the home?" - -"I offer references," Trent reminded him. - -"But my dear sir," Monmouth protested, "what are athletic clubs in -Madison to do with those who have the entrée to Meadowbrook?" - -"Supposing," Trent said presently, "a family such as I want did get into -communication with me, how much would they expect?" - -Captain Monmouth looked at him appraisingly. Trent felt certain that if -a figure were named it would be the one he would have to pay for the -privilege of meeting the charming Madame de Beaulieu. - -"One couldn't stay at a decent hotel under two hundred and fifty a -week," the cavalryman returned. "You'd have to pay at least five -hundred." - -"That's a lot," Trent commented. - -"I imagined you'd think that," Monmouth said drily. - -"But I could pay it easy enough," the pseudo-Scandinavian retorted. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -ANTHONY TRENT--"PAYING GUEST" - - -And in the end, he did. When Captain Monmouth suggested that the match -between the two be ridden off on his own grounds near Westbury, Anthony -Trent felt certain that he was taken there to be inspected by the other -members of the household. - -Edward Conway was a taciturn, drink-sodden man not inclined to be -friendly with the affable Oscar Lindholm. Of the match little need be -said. Trent, a good rider, had engaged to beat a professional at his own -game. Captain Monmouth was the richer by a thousand dollars. - -In the billiard room of Elm Lodge after the race Monmouth offered his -guest some excellent Scotch whiskey and grew a little more amiable. - -"I presume, Mr. Lindholm," he said, "that you would have no objection to -my man of business looking up your rating in Madison?" - -"Go as far as you like. What you will find will be satisfactory." - -"It is," Monmouth smiled. "I wish I had half the money that you have. I -should consider myself rich enough and God knows my tastes are not -simple." - -"So you had me investigated?" Trent smiled a little. "When?" - -"When we made this match." - -Trent had found that the assumption of a name might be dangerous if -investigations were made concerning it. It was with his customary -caution that he had taken Lindholm's name. David Moor, his little -detective, often spoke of his cases to his patron. He had spoken at -length about the case of Oscar Lindholm of Madison, Wisconsin. A lumber -millionaire, Oscar came to New York to have a good time in the -traditional manner of wealthy men from far states. A joyride in which a -man was run down figured prominently in his first night's entertainment. -Fearing that the notoriety of this would affect his political -aspirations in the west he was sentenced to a month on Blackwell's -Island under an assumed name. During this month his name could safely be -used. The day that Trent became a member of the household at Elm Lodge -the real Lindholm had ten days more to serve. - -The wardrobe which Trent had gathered about him was utterly unlike his -own perfect outfit. He conceived Oscar Lindholm to be without -refinements and he dressed the part. He could see Captain Monmouth -shudder as he came into the drawing room on the night of his arrival. -Lindholm wore a Prince Albert coat and wore it aggressively. - -His patent leather shoes had those hideous knobs on them wherein a dozen -toes might hide themselves. - -"My dear man," gasped Monmouth, "we dress for dinner always." - -"What's the matter with me?" the indignant guest asked. - -"Everything," Monmouth cried. "You look like an undertaker. Fortunately -we are very much of a size and I have some dress clothes I've never -worn. If Madame de Beaulieu had seen you I don't know what would have -happened." - -In ten minutes Trent was back in the drawing room this time arrayed as -he himself desired to be. Madame de Beaulieu had not yet come down. - -"Madame is particular then?" Trent hazarded. - -"She has a right to be," Monmouth said a little stiffly, "she belongs to -one of the great families of France." - -Trent, watching him, saw that he believed it. This was a new angle. She -had deceived Monmouth without a doubt. For the first time, and the last, -Trent observed a certain confusion about Captain Monmouth. - -"In confidence," he said, "Madame de Beaulieu and I are engaged to be -married. Captain de Beaulieu and she were negotiating for divorce when -the war broke out and we must wait therefore." - -Trent remembering Moor's report as to the members of the household -pointed to Edward Conway sipping his third cocktail. "That's the -chaperon, eh?" - -"Madame de Beaulieu's aunt, Madame de Berlaymont, is here," Monmouth -said affably. "It is our custom to use French at the table as much to -starve the servants of food for gossip as anything else. You speak -French of course?" - -"Not a word," Trent lied promptly, "now if you want to talk Danish or -Swedish I'm with you." - -Madame de Berlaymont! No doubt the French maid resuming the aunt pose. -At the Guestwick affair she had been an English lady of fashion. Had -they put themselves to this bother simply for his sake? He doubted it. - -"We've not been here long," Captain Monmouth went on, "and we know very -few people. Of course we could easily know the wrong sort but that's -dangerous. To-night one of the most popular and influential men in the -country is coming." - -Captain Monmouth had no time to mention his name for Madame de Beaulieu -came in. It was the first time Trent had met her face to face since that -night at the Guestwick's. He was not without a certain nervousness. -Looking at himself in the mirror he seemed so much the product of -peroxide that it must easily be recognized. But Madame de Beaulieu gave -him the most cursory of glances. There was a certain nervousness about -her and Monmouth which had little enough to do with him. - -This visit of the influential neighbor plainly was what concerned them. -Trent assumed, shrewdly enough, that they were trying, for reasons of -their own, to break into the wealthy hunting set and had not found it -easy. - -Madame de Beaulieu was beautifully gowned. She looked to be a woman of -thirty, whereas when he had first seen her she looked no more than two -and twenty. She carried herself splendidly. Her French accent was -marked. In the police court she spoke as the English do. When the little -bent, gray-ringletted but distinguished aunt came in, he could not -recognize her at all. Assuredly he had stumbled upon as high class band -of crooks as had ever bothered police. He could sense that they regarded -him as a necessary nuisance whose five hundred dollars a week helped the -household expenses. And he knew, instinctively, that Captain Monmouth -and Edward Conway would plan to get some of the millions he was -supposed to have. - -Trent's Swedish accent was copied faithfully from his janitor who had -been of a superior class in his own country before he had fallen to -furnace tending. He did not overdo it. To those listening, he appeared -anxious to overcome his accent and lapsed into it only occasionally. - -Trent heard Monmouth tell Madame de Beaulieu that Lindholm's dress was -terrible and that by God's grace their measurements were identical or -they would have been disgraced by a guest in a frock coat. He spoke in -rapid French and in an undertone but Trent's ears were sharp and had ere -this warned him of danger where another man would have heard nothing. - -The guest of honor was no less than Conington Warren. He was ripely -affable. He had come to this dinner more to report on the behavior of -the strangers occupying Elm Lodge than anything else. A bachelor may sit -at a table--or a divorced man--where the married man cannot go. At the -Mineola Show Madame de Beaulieu had made a good impression on the women -but they were not sure of her. They had found that Captain Monmouth was -indeed the second son of Sir John Monmouth, Bart, and formerly an -officer of Lancers. He had wasted his money at the race track and the -gaming table; but then that was not wholly frowned upon by the young -bloods of American society. - -Trent could see that Warren was impressed. There was an air of breeding -about his hostess and host he had not thought to see. The dinner was -good enough to win his distinguished commendation. He unbent so far as -to question Mr. Lindholm about political conditions in his native state. -He congratulated Madame de Beaulieu on the single string of exquisite -pearls that were about her white throat. And well he might. Cartier had -charged Peter Chalmers Rosewarne a pretty penny for them not so long -ago. - -Had he but known it he would have been even more interested in the ring -which Oscar Lindholm wore. It was a plain gold band in which a single -ruby blazed. He had never worn it till now. He felt Lindholm might -easily allow himself the luxuries of which Anthony Trent was denied. The -stone had adorned a stick pin which Conington Warren once loved and -lost. - -Monmouth's knowledge of horses commended itself to the owner of -thoroughbreds. Two men such as these could not play a part where horses -were concerned. Conington Warren remembered seeing Monmouth win that -greatest of all steeplechases the Grand National. A _camaraderie_ was -instantly established. It was a triumphant night. Undoubtedly the -household at Elm Lodge would be accepted. - -Thinking over the situation in his own room that night Trent admitted he -was puzzled. Why this struggle for social recognition? His first theory -that it was in order to rob wealthy homes was dismissed as untenable. To -begin with it was an old trick and played out. Directly an alien -household in a colony of old friends attracts attention it also attracts -suspicion. And if this section of Westbury were to suffer an epidemic of -burglaries Madame de Beaulieu's home would come under police -supervision. - -There was little doubt in Trent's mind that this Captain Monmouth was a -member of the family he claimed as his. Conington Warren and he had -common friends in England. What was his game? - -And yet Madame de Beaulieu, or "The Countess," had been notorious as the -leading member of a gang of high class crooks. She had even been -fingerprinted and had he believed served a sentence. Not a month before -she had taken a hundred thousand dollars' worth of jewels from St. -Michael's Mount and an amount of currency not specified. As the days -went by Trent made other discoveries. He found for one thing that the -man whose name he had taken had a reputation for drinking for he found a -decanter and siphon ever at his elbow. By degrees he and Edward Conway -gravitated together. This Conway, whose part in the game he could not -yet guess, was drinking himself steadily to death. - -One morning Trent came upon Conway scribbling on a pad of paper. He -stared hard at what he wrote and then tossed the crumpled paper into a -nearby open fire. The day was chilly and the blazing logs were cheerful. -When Conway was gone Trent retrieved the paper and saw the signature he -had assumed copied to a nicety. Conway probably had his uses as a -forger. The gang of the Countess had accomplished notable successes by -these means. - -Trent had not been an hour in the house when he discovered that Monmouth -and Madame de Beaulieu had eyes only for one another. It was a vulgar -intrigue Trent supposed and explained the situation. But as day -succeeded day he found he was wrong. Here were two people, a beautiful -woman accomplished and fascinating and a man of uncommon good looks and -distinction, head over ears in love with one another. Conceivably such -people, removed from the conventions of society, would pay small -attention to the _convenances_ and yet he saw no gesture or heard no -word in French or English that was not proper. Sometimes he felt he must -have mistaken the aristocratic Madame de Beaulieu and her Empire aunt -for the wrong women. But he could not mistake the Rosewarne pearls which -he had viewed in Cartier's only a week before the mining man bought them -as a birthday present for his wife. - -The night that Monmouth and the woman he loved were asked to a dinner -party at Conington Warren's home, Oscar Lindholm had two more days to -serve on Blackwell's Island. So far Anthony Trent had accomplished -nothing. He had lost a thousand dollars on a horse race, two weekly -payments of five hundred dollars for board and another thousand in small -amounts at auction and pool. He was most certainly a paying guest. - -Conway and Trent were not asked. Madame de Berlaymont was indisposed. It -was the opportunity he had wanted. It was Conway's habit to sleep from -about ten in the evening until midnight. Every night since Trent had -been at Elm Lodge the so-called secretary had done so. In a large wing -chair with an evening paper unopened on his knees he would fall into -sleep. He could be counted upon therefore not to interrupt. The servants -retired no later than ten to their distant part of the rambling house. -Only Madame de Berlaymont might be in the way. In reality this amiable -chaperone was a woman in the early twenties Trent believed and could -not be counted upon to remain unmoved if she heard strange noises in the -night as of burglars moving. - -Trent already knew the lay-out of the house. It was just past ten when -the servants went to bed and Conway sunk in his two hours' slumber that -Oscar Lindholm went exploring. - -Stepping very carefully by Madame de Berlaymont's room he listened a -long while. No sound met his ears. Then with a practiced skill he turned -the door knob and entered an unlighted room. Still there was no sound of -breathing. And when he switched on the light the apartment was empty. -The indisposition which had kept the aged lady two days confined to her -chamber was plainly a ruse. Trent could return to it later. - -Never before to-night had Trent carried an automatic pistol and been -prepared to use it if necessary. He was now in a house whose inmates -were, like himself, shrewd, resourceful and strong. For all he knew -Conway might long ago have suspected him. - -Madame de Beaulieu and her chaperone occupied the bedrooms of one wing -of the low rambling house. In the other wing Monmouth, Lindholm and -Conway slept. Over this bachelor wing as it was called were some smaller -rooms where the four maid servants slept. - -The rooms of Madame de Beaulieu were beautifully furnished. It was a -suite, with salon, bedroom and a large bathroom. Trent determined to -allow himself an hour and a half. Skilled as he was in searching he felt -he would discover something in those ninety minutes. - -But the time had almost gone by and he was baffled. There was nothing. -He probed and sounded and measured as he had seen Dangerfield's -detectives do but nothing rewarded him. What jewels Madame de Beaulieu -owned she had probably worn. But how dare she wear at a dinner party -where the Rosewarne's might conceivably be, so well known a string of -pearls? And what of those other baubles which were missing from St. -Michael's home? - -A carved ivory jewel box on her dressing table revealed only a ball the -size of a golf ball made of silver paper. She had begged him to save the -tinsel in the boxes of cigarettes he smoked so that she might bind this -mass until it became worthy of sending to the Red Cross. - -Anthony Trent balanced the silver sphere in his hand. Naturally it was -heavy. "If I," he mused, "wanted to hide my three beauties I couldn't -think of anything safer than this. She's clever, too. Why shouldn't she -use it for something she's afraid of anybody seeing?" - -A steel hat pin was to his hand. Exerting a deal of wrist strength he -thrust it through the mass. In the middle it met with a resistance that -the pin could not pierce. It was twelve o'clock as he put it in his -pocket and locked the door of his own room. It seemed minutes before his -eager fingers could strip off piece after piece of silver paper. And -then the palm of his hand cupped one of the most beautiful diamonds he -had ever seen. - -It was fully a hundred carats in weight and its value he could hardly -approximate. No stone of this size had ever been lost in the United -States. He remembered however some four years ago the Nizam of -Hyderabad--one of the greatest of Indian potentates and owner of an -unparalleled collection of diamonds--had bought a famous stone in -London. It was never delivered to him. The messenger had been found -floating in the Thames off Greenhithe. The reputed price of purchase had -been thirty-five thousand pounds. The Nizam's had been a blue-white -diamond and Anthony Trent believed he held it in his hand. He thought of -his Benares lamp and chuckled. If he desired to avenge himself on Madame -de Beaulieu for the loss of the Guestwick money he was amply rewarded -now. The blazing thing in his hand would fetch at least two hundred -thousand dollars if he dared dispose of it. - -Obviously the correct procedure for the supposed Oscar Lindholm was to -make his escape at once. He would have little chance to do so were the -abstraction to become known. Of course Madame de Beaulieu would look in -her ivory casket directly she came in. Did he himself not always glance -anxiously at his lamp whenever he had been away from it for a few hours? - -Cautiously he made his way down to the hall where his coat and hat were. - -As he passed the door it opened and Madame de Beaulieu entered with -Monmouth. She was pale, so pale indeed that Trent stopped to look at -her. - -"Back early, aren't you?" he asked. - -"Madame has had bad news," said Monmouth and looked at her anxiously. -She sank into a big chair before the open fire. Certainly she was very -beautiful. Looking at her it seemed incredible that she could be one of -the best known adventuresses in the world. Perhaps, after all, much of -the anecdote that was built about her was legendary. Presently she spoke -in French to Monmouth. - -"Bear with me, my dear one," she said, "but I must see him alone. I am a -creature of premonitions. Let me have my way." - -The look that Captain Monmouth bent upon Anthony Trent was not a -friendly one. There was a new quality of suspicion and antagonism in it. - -"Madame de Beaulieu," he said stiffly, "wants to speak with you alone. I -see no occasion for it but her wish is law. I shall leave you here." - -When they were alone she did not speak for some minutes. Then she turned -to him and looked at him searchingly. He felt the necessity of being on -his guard. - -"Mr. Lindholm," she said quietly, "I do not understand you." - -"Why should you bother to?" he asked. - -"Because I am afraid of everything I do not trust. You say you are a -naturalized Swede. That would explain your hair." She leaned forward and -looked him full in the face, "Mr. Lindholm, you have made one very silly -mistake which no woman would make." - -"And that is--what?" he demanded. - -"You have let your bleached hair get black at the roots. You are a -blackhaired man. Why deny it?" - -"I don't," he said. "I admit it." - -"Then why are you here?" - -"Captain Monmouth knows. A desire to break into society if you like." - -"Will you answer me one question truthfully," she asked, "on your -honor?" - -"Yes," he said. There was no reason why he should not. - -"Are you a detective?" - -"On my honor, no. Why should Madame de Beaulieu fear detectives?" - -There was a faint flush in her cheeks now and a brighter color in her -eyes. She was enormously relieved at his answer. - -"Why are you here, then?" - -"If you must know," he told her, "it was for revenge." - -"Not to harm Captain Monmouth?" she cried paling. - -"I came on your account," he said quietly. "You don't remember me?" - -She shook her head. "When did we meet? In Europe?" - -"No less a place than Fifth avenue." - -"Ah, at some social function? One meets so many that one has no time for -recalling names or even faces." - -"Later I saw you at a police court. You were an indignant young -English-woman accused of robbing Mr. Guestwick or trying to. You may -recall a man who opened the Guestwick safe for you, a man upon whose -good nature you imposed." He looked very somber and stern. She shrank -back, and covered her face with her white hands. - -"I knew happiness was not for me," she said brokenly. "I said, when I -found the man I loved was the man who loved me. 'It is too wonderful, -too beautiful. It is not for me. I am born under an unlucky star.' And -you see I was right." - -Trent considered her for a moment. Here was no acting. Here was a woman -whose soul was in agony. - -"You forget," he said, "that I don't know what you mean." - -"I had better tell you," she said with a gesture of despair. "Captain -Monmouth and I love each other. It has awakened the good in us that we -both thought was buried or had never existed. While my husband, Captain -de Beaulieu, lived there was no chance of a divorce. He is Catholic. -To-night after dinner one of Mr. Warren's guests brought a late paper -from New York and I saw that my husband was killed. I could stay there -no longer. Coming home in the motor I asked myself whether it would be -my fate to win happiness. I doubted it even though I repented in ashes. -Then it was I began to think of you, the stranger whose money we needed, -the stranger who reminded me vaguely of some day when there was danger -in the air. Under the light as I came in I saw your hair. Then I knew -that in the hour of my greatest hope I was to experience the most bitter -despair." - -"You forget, Madame," he said harshly, "that I have had the benefit of -your consummate acting before." - -"And you think I am acting now?" - -"Why shouldn't I?" he retorted, "you have everything to gain by it. I -can collect the Guestwick reward, and send you back to prison." - -"I can pay you more than the ten thousand dollars he offered," she cried -quickly. - -"With the sale of the Rosewarne jewels?" - -She shrank back. "Ciel! How could you know?" - -"I do," he said brusquely, "and that's enough. You see you are trying -to fool me again. You say your love has brought out the good in you that -you didn't know you possessed and yet a few weeks back you are at your -old tricks again. Is that reasonable?" - -"I'll tell you everything," she cried wildly. "You must understand. It -was I who took the Rosewarne jewels. Why? Because I am fighting for my -happiness. Captain Monmouth knows nothing of what my life has been. I -have told him that after the war I shall go back to France and sell my -property and with it help him to buy a place that was once a seat of his -family. There, away from the world, we shall live and die. I want only -him and he wants only me. We have known life and its vanities. We want -happiness. You hold it in your hands. If you take your revenge by -telling him, you break my heart. Is that a vengeance which satisfies -you, Monsieur l'Inconnu? If so, it is very easy. He is in the next room. -Call him. You have only to say, 'Captain Monmouth, this woman whom you -love is a notorious criminal. All Europe knows her as the Countess. The -money that she wants to build her house of love with is stolen money. -She will assuredly disgrace your name as she has that of the great -family from which she sprang.'" - -She looked supplicatingly at Anthony Trent. "You have only to tell him -that and there is no happiness left for me in all the world." - -"Do you think I would do that?" he demanded. - -"How can I tell? Why should you not? I am in your power." - -There was no doubting the genuineness of her emotion. Formerly she had -tricked him but here was her bared soul to see. - -"I came here," he said slowly, "angry because you had played upon my -sympathies and outwitted me. I schemed to gain an entrance to this house -for no other reason. I shall leave it admiring you and Monmouth and -hoping you will be happy." - -It was as though she could scarcely believe him. - -"Then you will not tell him?" she exclaimed. "You will go without that -for which you came?" - -She did not understand his smile. - -"I shall not tell him," Anthony Trent declared. "As for the rest--we are -quits, Madame." - -At the hour when the real Oscar Lindholm left Blackwells Island the -pretender was lovingly setting the fourth jewel in the Benares lamp. It -would have been difficult to find two happier men in all America that -morning. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -MRS. KINNEY MAKES A CONFESSION - - -ANTHONY TRENT looked about his well-furnished rooms with a certain -merited affection. In a week he would know them no more. Already -arrangements had been made to send the furniture to his camp on -Kennebago. A great deal of the furniture Weems had gathered there was -distressfully bad. Weems ran to gilt and brocade mainly. - -As Trent surveyed his apartment it amused him to think that never was a -flat in a house such as this furnished so well and at so great a cost. -The things might seem modest enough at first glance. There was, for -example, a steel engraving, after Stuart, of George Washington. A -fitting and a worthy picture for any American's room but hardly one -which required a large amount of money to obtain. - -None save Anthony Trent knew that behind the print was concealed one of -the most beautiful examples of that flower of the Venetian Renaissance, -Giorgione. A few months before the Scribblers' Club had invited motion -picture magnates to its monthly dinner. Only a few of these moulders of -public taste had accepted. There were good enough reasons for -declination. The subject incensed those who held that writers had no -grudge against the "movies." Others lacked speech-making ability in the -English tongue. And there were some high-stomached producers who feared -the Scribblers' fare might be unworthy. - -One big man consented to speak. He was glib with that oratory which -comes from successful selling. Before he had sprung into notoriety he -had been a salesman in a Seventh Avenue store, one of those persuasive -gentlemen who waylay passersby. His speech was, of course, absurd. It -was interesting mainly as an example that intelligence is not always -necessary in the making of big money. - -It was when he began to speak of the material rewards that his acumen -had garnered, that Anthony Trent awoke to interest. The producer told -his hearers that they had assuredly read of the sale to an unnamed -purchaser of a Giorgione. "I am that purchaser!" said the great man. "I -give more money for it than--" his shrewd appraising eye went around the -table. He saw eager unsuccessful writers, starveling associate editors -and a motley company of the unarrived. There were a few who had gained -recognition but in the main it was not a prosperous gathering as -commerce reckons success. "I give more money for it," he declared, "than -all this bunch will make in their lifetime. It'll be on view at the -Metropolitan Museum next week when you boys can take an eyefull. It's on -my desk at this present moment in a plain wooden case. It ain't a big -picture; this Giorgione"--his "G" was wrongly pronounced--"didn't paint -'em big. My wife don't know anything about it but she's got the art bug -and she'll get it to-morrow morning as her birthday present." - -However, the lady was disappointed. The wooden case was brought to the -table and the magnate unwrapped it with his own fat fingers. Instead of -the canvas representing a Venetian fête and undraped ladies, was the -comic sheet of a Sunday paper. The motion picture magnate used his -weekly news-sheet (produced in innumerable theatres) to advertise his -loss by a production of the missing picture. It was good advertising and -made the Venetian master widely known. But it still reposed behind the -sphinx-like Washington. - -The Benares lamp was naturally his _pièce de résistance_. Never in -history had such value been gathered together in a lamp. Trent -remembered seeing once in the British Museum a lamp from the Mosque of -Omar at Jerusalem on which was inscribed, "The Painter is the poor and -humble Mustafa." As he looked at his own lantern he thought, "The -Decorator is the unknown Anthony Trent." - -Collectors of china would have sneered at a single vase on the top of a -bookcase. It was white enameled and had a few flowers painted on it. And -the inscription told the curious that it was a souvenir of Watch Hill, -R. I. - -In reality it was the celebrated vase of King Senwosri who had gazed on -it twenty-five centuries before Christ. Senator Scrivener had bought it -at a great price in Cairo. Some day the white enamel which Trent had -painted over the imperishable glass would be carefully removed and it -would gladden his eyes in Maine where visitors would be infrequent. - -There were a dozen curious things Trent looked at, things hidden from -all eyes but his, which aroused exciting memories of a career he fully -believed had drawn to a close. He doubted if ever a man in all the -history of crime had taken what he had taken and was yet personally -unknown. Some day, if possible, he might be able to learn from the -police what mental estimate they had formed of him. He must loom large -in their eyes. They must invest him with a skill and courage that would -be flattering indeed were he to learn of it. The occasional mentions of -him he read in daily papers were too distorted to be interesting and -McWalsh's tribute to the unknown master was his only reward so far. - -The life that was coming, was to be the life he desired. Leisure, the -possession of books, the opportunity to wander as he chose through far -countries when the war was over. And he liked to think that later he -might find love. Often he had envied men with children. Well, he could -offer the woman that he might find comforts that fiction would never -have brought him. He was getting to have fewer qualms of conscience now. -He often assured himself that he was honest by comparison with war -profiteers. He had taken from the rich and had not withheld from the -poor. - -His immunity from arrest, the growing certainty that his cleverness had -saved him from detection led him on this particular night to speculate -upon his new life with an easy mind. He had been wise to avoid the -dangers of friendship. He had been astute in selecting a woman like Mrs. -Kinney who distrusted strangers. She believed in him absolutely. She -looked to his comforts and cared for his health admirably. She would -assuredly be happy in Maine. - -And then he remembered that during the last week or so she had been -strangely moody. She had sighed frequently. She had looked at him -constantly and gazed away when he met her eye. She was old, and the old -were fanciful as he knew. Perhaps, after all she regretted leaving the -New York which filled her with exquisite tremblings and fear. In Maine -she would be lonely. She should have a younger woman to aid her with the -house work. A physician should look her over. Trent was genuinely fond -of the old woman. - -He was thinking of her when she came into the room. Undoubtedly there -was something unusual about her. There was no longer the pleasant smile -on her face. He was almost certain she wore a look of fear. Instantly he -sensed some danger impending. - -"There's a man been here three times to-day," she began. - -"What of it?" he demanded. So far as she could judge the news did not -disconcert him. - -"Is there anybody you might want to avoid?" she asked, and did not look -at him as she spoke. - -"A thousand," he smiled. "Who was it?" - -"He wouldn't leave his name." - -"What was he like?" - -"A man," she told him, "sixty. Well dressed and polite but I didn't -trust him. He'll be back at ten." - -It was now almost half past nine. - -"I don't see everybody who calls," he reminded her. - -"You must see him," she said seriously. - -"Why?" he demanded. - -"He said you would regret it if you did not." - -"Probably an enterprising salesman," he returned with an appearance -almost of boredom. - -"No, he isn't," she said quickly. - -There was no doubt that Mrs. Kinney was terribly in earnest. He affected -the air of composure he did not feel. - -"Who then?" Anthony Trent demanded. - -"I think it's the police," she whispered. - -Then suddenly she fell to weeping. - -"Oh, Mr. Trent," she said brokenly, "I _know_." - -"What?" he cried sharply, suddenly alert to danger, turned in that -moment from the debonair careless idler to one in imminent risk of -capture. - -"About you," she said. - -"What about me?" he exclaimed impatiently. - -"I know how you make your living. I didn't spy on you, sir, believe me, -I just happened on it." Timidly she looked over to the Benares lamp -gracefully swinging in its dim corner. "I know about that." - -For a moment Anthony Trent said nothing. A few minutes ago he had sat in -the same chair as he now occupied congratulating himself on a new life -that seemed so near and so desirable. Now he was learning that the -little, shrinking woman, who so violently denounced crime and criminals, -had found him out. What compromise could he effect with her? Was it -likely that she was instrumental in denouncing him to the authorities, -tempted perhaps by the rewards his capture would bring? For the moment -it was useless to ask how she had discovered the lamp's secret. - -"What are you going to do?" he demanded. He was assuredly not going to -wait for the police to arrest him if escape were possible. He might have -to shut the old woman in a closet and make his hurried exit. He always -had a large sum of money about him. Of late the banks had been aiding -the government by disclosing the names of those depositors who invested -sums of a size that seemed incompatible with their positions and ways of -living. He feared to make such deposits that might lead to investigation -and of late had secreted what money his professional gains had brought -him. - -"What am I going to do?" she echoed. "Why help you if I can." - -He looked at her, suspicion in his gaze. Her manner convinced him that -by some means or other she had indeed stumbled upon what he had hoped -was hidden. It was not a moment to ask her by what means she had done -so. And, equally, it was no moment for denial. - -"Why should you help me?" he demanded. He could not afford blindly to -trust any one. "If you think you have found something irregular about me -why do you offer aid? In effect you have accused me of being a criminal. -Don't you know there's a law against helping one?" - -"I'm one, too," she said, to his amazement. - -"Nonsense!" he snapped. He was too keen a judge of character to believe -that this meek old creature had fallen into evil ways. - -"Do you remember," she said steadily--and he could see she was intensely -nervous--"that I told you I had no children when I applied for this -place?" - -"Yes, yes," he answered impatiently. It seemed so trivial a matter now. - -"Well, I lied," she returned, "I had a daughter at the point of death. I -needed the position and I heard you telling other applicants you wanted -some one with no ties." - -"That's hardly criminal," Anthony Trent declared. - -"Wait," she wailed, "I did worse. You remember when you furnished this -place you sent me to pay for some rugs--nearly two hundred dollars it -was?" - -"And you had your pocket picked. I remember." - -"I took the money," she confessed. "If I had not my girl would have been -buried with the nameless dead." - -He looked at the sobbing woman kindly. - -"Don't worry about that, Mrs. Kinney. If only you had told me you could -have had it." - -"I know that now," she returned, "but then I was afraid." - -"You'll stand by me notwithstanding that?" he pointed to the jeweled -lamp. - -"Why of course," she said simply, and he knew she was genuine. - -Almost as she spoke the bell rang. - -"Go to the head of the stairs," he commanded, "and I will let him in. Be -certain to see how many there are. If there are two or more, call out -that some men are coming. If it is the one who called before, say 'the -gentleman is here.' Listen carefully. If there are two or more I shall -get out by the roof. Meet me to-morrow by Grant's Tomb at ten o'clock in -the morning. You've got that?" - -Mrs. Kinney was perfectly calm now and he was certain that her loyalty -could be depended upon. Presently she called out, "The gentleman is -here." - -Anthony Trent rose slowly from his chair by the window as his visitor -entered. It was a heavily built man of sixty or so dressed very well. At -a glance the stranger displayed distinguished urbanity. - -"What a charming retreat you have here, Mr. Trent," he observed. - -"It is convenient," said Anthony Trent shortly. The word "retreat" -sounded unpleasantly in his ear. It had a sound of enforced seclusion. -He continued to study the elder man. There was an inflection in his -voice which we are pleased to term an "English accent." And yet he did -not seem, somehow, to be an Englishman. His accent reminded Trent of a -man he had met casually two years before. It was at a Park riding school -where he kept a saddle horse that he encountered him. From his accent he -believed him to be English and was surprised when he was informed that -it was Captain von Papen he had taken to be British. He learned -afterwards that the Germans of good birth generally learned their -English among England's upper classes and acquired thereby that -inflection which does not soothe the average American. This stranger had -just such a speaking voice. Obviously then he was German and one highly -connected. And at a day when German plots and intrigue engaged public -attention what was he doing here? - -"Mine is a business call," said the stranger. - -"You do not ask if this is a convenient hour," Trent reminded him. - -"My dear sir," the other said smiling, "you must understand that it is a -matter in which my convenience is to be consulted rather than yours." -The eyes that gleamed through the thick glasses were fixed on Trent's -face with a trace of amusement in them. The stranger had the look of one -who holds the whiphand over another. - -"I don't admit that," Anthony Trent retorted. "I don't know your name or -your errand and I'm not sure that I want to." - -"Wait," said the other. "As for my name--let it be Kaufmann. As for my -errand, let us say I am interested in a history of crime and want you to -be a collaborator." - -"What qualifications have I for such an honor?" - -Anthony Trent rammed his pipe full of Hankey and lit it with a hand that -did not tremble. Instinctively he knew the other watched for signs of -nervousness. - -"You have written remarkable stories of crime," Mr. Kaufmann reminded -him. "I regret that the death of an Australian uncle permitted you to -retire." - -"You will not think it rude, I hope," Trent said with a show of -politeness, "if I say that you seem to be much more interested in my -business than I am in yours." - -"I admire your national trait of frankness," Kaufmann smiled, "and will -copy it. I am a merchant of Zurich, at Bahnhof street, the largest dyer -of silk in Switzerland. This much you may find through your State -Department if you choose." - -"And owing to lack of business have taken up a study of crime?" Trent -commented. "Your frankness impresses me favorably, Mr. Kaufmann. I still -do not see why you visit me at this hour." - -"We shall make it plain," Mr. Kaufmann assured him cordially. "First let -me tell you that my business is in danger. This dye situation is likely -to ruin me. I have, or had, the formulae of the dyes I used. They were -my property." - -"German formulae!" Trent exclaimed. - -"Swiss," Kaufmann corrected, "bought by me, and my property. They have -been stolen from my partner by an officious amateur detective--one of -your allies--and brought here. The ship should be in shortly. He will -stay in New York a day or so before going to Washington. When he goes he -will take with him my property, my dye formulae. He will enrich American -dyers at my expense." - -"You can't expect me to feel grieved about that," Anthony Trent said -bluntly. - -"I do not," said Kaufmann. "But I must have those formulae." He leaned -forward and touched Trent on the arm. "You must get them." - -Trent knocked the gray ashes from his pipe. The merchant of Zurich gazed -into a face which wore amusement only. He was not to know the dismay -into which his covert threat had thrown the younger man. Without doubt, -Trent told himself, this stranger must have stumbled upon something -which made this odd visit a logical one, some discovery which would be a -sword over his head. - -"In your own country," said Trent politely, "I have no doubt you pass -for a wit. To me your humor seems strained." - -Kaufmann smiled urbanely. - -"I had hoped," he asserted, "that you would not have compelled me to say -again that you _must_ get them. I fancied perhaps that you would be -sensitive to any mention of, shall we say, your past?" - -"My past?" queried Trent blandly. He did not propose to be bluffed. Too -often he had played that game himself. It might still be that this man, -a German without question, had only guessed at his avocation and hoped -to frighten him. - -"Your past," repeated the merchant. "The phrase has possibly too vague a -sound for you. Let me say rather your professional activities." - -"I see," Trent smiled, "you are interested in the writing of stories. My -profession is that of a fiction writer." - -"You fence well," Kaufmann admitted, "but I have a longer and sharper -foil. I can wound you and receive never a scratch in return. You speak -of fiction. Permit me to offer you a plot. Although a Swiss I have, or -had, many German friends. We are still neutral, we of Switzerland, and -you cannot expect us to feel the enmities this war has stirred up as -keenly as you and your allies do." - -"That I have noticed," Trent declared. - -"Very well then. I have a close friend here, one Baron von Eckstein. You -have perhaps heard of him--yes?" - -Anthony Trent knitted his brow in thought. - -"Married a St. Louis heiress, didn't he?" - -"A very delightful lady, and rich," Kaufmann returned. "Charitable too, -and loyal. My friends are all very loyal. Did you know that she donated -ten fully-equipped ambulances to this country?" - -"I saw it in the papers," said Anthony Trent. And for the life of him he -could not help smiling. - -Mr. Kaufmann begged permission to light a cigar. It would have been -difficult to find a more urbane or genial gentleman in all Switzerland. - -"The Baron and Baroness von Eckstein are close friends." - -Since he offered no other remarks Anthony Trent spoke. - -"And I am to derive a story from so slender a plot." - -"That is but the beginning," Kaufmann assured him. "One night the -Baroness had a very valuable necklace stolen. It was worth a great deal -more than was supposed. Diamonds have gone up in price. She told me -about it. In my native land I had some little skill as an amateur -detective. She had been to a ball and had met many strangers. At my -request she mentioned those to whom she had spoken at length. Among them -was your name. That means nothing. There were twenty others. Now I come -to another interesting thing. Do I entertain you?" - -Anthony Trent simulated a yawn. He gave the appearance of one who -listens because a guest in his house speaks and politeness demands it. -In reality a hundred schemes went racing through his head and in most of -them Herr Kaufmann played a part that would have made him nervous had he -guessed it. - -"Indeed yes," Anthony Trent assured him. "Please continue." - -"Very well," said the other cheerfully. "Next, my plot takes me to New -Bedford. You know it?" - -"A mill town I believe?" - -"Many of the mills are owned by my friend Jerome Dangerfield who used to -purchase my dyes. We are friends of thirty years. He was the owner of -the celebrated Mount Aubyn ruby. It was stolen from him, knocked out of -his very hands. A most mysterious case. You have heard of it?" - -"I saw that ten thousand dollars was offered for the return of the stone -and capture of the thief." - -"I made my little list of those to whom Dangerfield had talked during -his stay at Sunset Park. Your name was there, Mr. Trent." - -"If you are thinking of writing it up," Trent said kindly, "I must -advise you that editors of the better sort rather frown on coincidence. -Coincidence in fiction is a shabby old gentleman to-day with fewer -friends every year. What next?" - -"Nothing, now," Kaufmann admitted readily. "Since then I have -investigated you. I find you write no more; that you live well; that -while your money supposedly comes from Australia you never present an -Australian draft at your bank. Now, my dear Mr. Trent, I may misjudge -you. Possibly I do. But in the interests of my friends the Baron and -Baroness, to say nothing of my customer Jerome Dangerfield, I may be -permitted to investigate any man whose way of living seems suspicious. I -ought perhaps to put the matter into the hands of the police." - -"Have you?" Trent demanded sharply. - -"Not yet. It may be that I shall when I leave here. You may be thinking -what a fool I am to come here and tell you these startling things when -you are so much younger and stronger than I. I should answer, if you -asked me, that I have a permit to carry a revolver and that I have -availed myself of it." - -Blandly he showed the other a .38 automatic Bayard pistol. - -"You may be misjudged," he said cordially. "If so I offer you the -apology of a Swiss gentleman. But consider my position. Suppose we abide -by the decision of the police." He looked keenly at Anthony Trent, "Are -you willing to leave it to them? Shall I call up Spring 3100?" - -Kaufmann gave Trent the idea that he knew very much more about his life -than he had so far admitted. There was a certainty about the man that -veiled disquieting things. If he knew the Von Ecksteins and Dangerfield -as he claimed, it was one of those unfortunate coincidences which life -often provides to humble supercilious editors like Crosbeigh. Police -investigation was a thing Trent feared greatly. Under cross-examination -his defense would fall abjectly. It was no good to inquire how Kaufmann -had found out that he had never offered an Australian check at his bank. -It was sufficient that his charge was true. - -"It is rather late to bother the police," he said smiling. - -Kaufmann breathed relief, "Ah," he said genially, "we shall make -excellent collaborators, I can see that. To-day is Tuesday. On Thursday -at this hour I shall come with particulars of what I expect you to do -for us?" - -"Us?" Trent exclaimed. - -"Myself and my partners," Kaufmann explained. "Yes, at this hour I shall -come and you will serve your interest by doing in all things as I say. -The alternative is to telephone police headquarters and say an elderly -merchant from Zurich threatens you, slanders you, impels you to perform -unpleasant offices." - -Kaufmann smiling benignly backed toward the door. He closed it behind -him. A little later Anthony Trent saw him on the sidewalk five stories -below. - -He started as he heard footsteps behind him. It was Mrs. Kinney. - -"Was it anything serious?" she asked. - -"I'm afraid it was," he answered. "I want you to go up to Kennebago with -me to-morrow afternoon. I shall take only my personal baggage. The -furniture can wait. The apartment will be locked up." - -She spoke with a certain hesitation. - -"I listened to what he was saying, Mr. Trent." - -"I hoped you would," he answered, "I may need a witness." - -"Don't you think it would be wiser to wait and do what he wants you to?" - -"Perhaps," retorted her employer, "but I don't see how he can find me -out in Kennebago. Who knows about it but you and Weems? You haven't -mentioned it to any one and Weems isn't anxious his financial condition -should be suspected. And, beside that, he's in Los Angeles. I shall pay -the rent of this flat up till Christmas and tell the agent I may be back -for a few days any time. I must leave the furniture." He looked about -him regretfully. "That could be traced easily enough." He decided to -take the Benares lamp, Stuart's picture of Washington, the vase of King -Senwosri, and one or two things of price. They could go in his trunks. - -"But, sir," Mrs. Kinney persisted timidly, "if he finds you out it may -go badly with you and it wouldn't be difficult to get what he wants." - -"Perhaps not," he said gravely, "but if I were to do one such thing for -them they would use me continually." - -"But he only wants his dye formulae," she reminded him. - -"Don't you understand," he said, "that he is a German spy and wants me -to betray my country?" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -THE GERMAN SPY MERCHANT - - -ANTHONY TRENT rode into Kennebago by the corduroy road from Rangely. It -took longer but it seemed a less likely way of being seen than if he had -taken the train to Kennebago. It had been his intention before Kaufmann -had come across his horizon to make the call upon Mr. Westward his first -action. As he stood at the window of the big dining room he could see -the genial angler, and John his guide, rowing over to the edge of a -favorite pool. There he sat in the stern, rod in hand, no doubt thinking -of the chapter he was writing on the "Psychology of Trout." - -For years Anthony Trent had looked forward to days like this in his new -home. But the thrill of it was gone. He had hoped to look over the lake -to the purple hills beyond with a serenity of mind that might now never -be his. How much did Kaufmann know? Would he lodge information with the -police? Dare he? Probably he would not dare to call. But anonymous -information of so important a character would speedily bring detectives -on his trail. Beyond a question he should have bought a camp on some far -Canadian lake under another name, and reached it by devious ways. - -He had betrayed much ingenuity in bringing himself, Mrs. Kinney and -their baggage, to Kennebago as it was. Successions of taxis from hotel -to station, and from station to hotel, crossing his own tracks a half -dozen times would make pursuit difficult. He had no way of estimating -Kaufmann's skill at following a clue. But the man had impressed him, -Anthony Trent, who had foiled so many. - -Next morning he determined to fish and was attending to his rods with -the loving care of the conscientious angler when a knock came at the -door. It opened on to the big screened piazza. - -"Come in," he shouted, thinking Mrs. Kinney wished to consult him. - -Instead there entered Mr. Westward who greeted him heartily. It was -indeed an honor, for the piscatorial expert called upon few. - -"Glad to see you, my dear fellow," said Westward, shaking him by the -hand. "I happened to meet a friend of yours who was coming to see you -and lost his way so I've brought him along." - -_Kaufmann also wrung his hand_. He seemed no less delighted to see Trent -than had been Mr. Westward. - -"What a charming retreat you have here," he exclaimed cordially. - -There followed a conversation concerning trout and salmon which under -normal conditions would have been delightful to Trent. Kaufmann was -affable, genial, and talked of the finny spoils of his native lakes. It -was only when Westward's erect form had disappeared down the path that -his manner became forbidding. - -"Why did you leave New York?" he snapped. - -"Because I chose to," said the other. - -"What a fool! what a fool!" cried Kaufmann, "and how fortunate that I am -good tempered." - -"Why?" Trent demanded. - -"Because I might have had you investigated by the police. Instead I -followed you here--not without difficulty I admit--and renew my offer." -He looked about the luxurious house that was miscalled a "camp." It was -not the kind of home a man would lose willingly. "I ask very little. I -only want a certain package of letters which a man who lands to-morrow -in New York has in his possession. One so skilled as you can get it -easily. You have presence, education, ready wit. I confess it is -difficult for me to believe you have sunk so low." - -Anthony Trent flushed angrily. - -"There are lower depths yet," he exclaimed. - -"Yes?" the other returned, "as for instance?" - -"Your sort of work!" he cried. "Do you suppose I imagine you to be a -Swiss silk merchant of Bahnhof street?" - -Kaufmann threw back his head and laughed. - -"My passport recently vised by your State Department is made out to -Adolf Kaufmann of Zurich. I have Swiss friends in New York and Chicago -who will identify me." - -"Naturally," said Trent, "simple precautions of that sort would have to -be taken. That's elementary." - -"Let us get back to business," said the other, "I want those papers. -Will you get them for me? Think it over well. You may say you will not. -You may say you prefer to remain here in this delightful place and catch -trout. Let us suppose that you say you defy me. What happens? You lose -all chance to look at trout for ten, fifteen, twenty years accordingly -as the judge regards your offenses. I have mentioned only two crimes to -you. Of these I have data and am certain. There are two others in which -I can interest myself if necessary. I do not wish to bother myself with -you after you do as I command. Get me the papers and you may remain here -till you have grand-children of marriageable age. Is it worth defying -me, Mr. Trent?" - -The younger man groaned as he thought it over. The fabric he had made so -carefully was ready to fall apart. Kaufmann went on talking. - -"The man you must follow is called Commander Godfrey Heathcote, of the -British Navy. On his breast he wears the ribbons of the Victoria -Cross--a blue one for the Navy--and the red ribbon, edged with blue, of -the Distinguished Service Order. He is a man much of your build but has -straw colored hair and light blue eyes. He walks with a limp owing to a -wound received at the Zeebrugge affair. He is supposed to be over here -to stay with relatives who have a place on the James River. He leaves -for Washington soon where his business is with the Secretary of the -Navy. The papers I want are in a pigskin cigarette case, old and worn. -You'd better bring the case in its entirety." - -Kaufmann rattled off his instructions in a sure and certain manner. -Evidently he had no fear of being denied. - -"Isn't it unusual for an English naval commander to carry trade secrets -about with him?" Trent demanded. - -"Why keep up the farce?" Kaufmann exclaimed. "You, too, are a man of -the world. You realize you are in my power and must do as you are bid." - -"Must I?" Trent answered with a frown. "I am asked to play the traitor -to my country and you expect me to accept without hesitation." - -"Why not?" Kaufmann returned. "Would you be the first that fear of -exposure has led into such ways? If I were to tell you how we--" he -paused a moment and then smiled--"how we silk merchants of Switzerland -have used our knowledge of the black pages of men's lives or the -indiscretions of well known women, you would understand more readily how -we obtain what we want." - -"I understand," said Anthony Trent gloomily. He was a case in point. - -"And you will save yourself?" - -"I don't know," said Trent hesitating. But he knew that Kaufmann had -made such threats as these to others and had gained his desires. "What's -in those papers?" - -"Dye formulae," smiled the elder man. - -Anthony Trent looked at him angrily. His nerves were on edge. Plainly -Kaufmann felt it unwise to stir the smouldering passion in him. - -"England," he informed the other, "has recently reorganized the mine -fields outside Sheerness at the mouth of the Thames. Commander -Heathcote, who is here ostensibly to recuperate from wounds, is chosen -to carry the plans to the Navy Department. There you have all I know." - -"But that's treachery!" Trent cried. - -"What's England to you," Kaufmann answered, "or you to England? I'm not -asking you to take American plans." - -"It's the same thing now," Trent persisted. "We're allies and what's -treachery to one is treachery to the other." - -"Admirable!" Kaufmann sneered, "admirable! But I invite you to come down -to mother earth. You are not concerned with the affairs of nations. You -are concerned only with your own safety which is the nearer task. You -get those plans or you go to prison. You realize my power. I need you. -You may ask why I have gone to this trouble to take you, a stranger, -more or less into my confidence. Very well. I shall tell you. My own men -are working like slaves in your accursed internment camps and I am alone -who had so many to command." - -"Alone," said Anthony Trent in an altered voice and looked at him oddly. - -Kaufmann observed the look and laughed. - -"I am a mind reader," he said cheerfully, "I will tell you what is -passing through your brain. You are wondering whether if those strong -hands of yours get a grip of my throat your own troubles, too, would not -be at an end. No, my friend, I still have my Bayard with me. And why run -the risk, if you should overpower me, of being tried for murder? What I -ask of you is very little. Remember, also, that I have but to say the -word and you land in prison." - -"You'd go with me," Trent exclaimed. - -"I think not," smiled Kaufmann. "Jerome Dangerfield and others would -vouch for me whereas I fear you would be friendless. And even if I were -interned how would that help you? Be sensible and get ready to -accompany me to New York on the five o'clock train. I have your -reservations." - -It was not easy to explain things to Mrs. Kinney. Trent told her that -his suspicions of Kaufmann's German sympathies were wrong. He said he -was compelled to get the dye formulae and would return within a few -days. - -"I shall come too," Mrs. Kinney observed. "I left a lot of my things at -the flat and I shall need them." - -It seemed to Trent that she was not deceived by his words; and while he -would have preferred to leave her in Maine he could think of no reason -for keeping her there if she wished to leave. All the way he was gloomy. -To Kaufmann's sallies he made morose answers. Presently the so-called -Swiss left him alone. But Trent could not escape the feeling that his -every action was watched. He was to all intents and purposes bond -servant to an enemy of his country. - -"Just a final word," said Kaufmann as they neared the 125th street -station. - -"What else?" Trent said impatiently. He was filled with disgust with -himself and of hatred for the German. - -"Remember that the cigarette case which holds my formulae is a long flat -one holding twelve cigarettes. On it is stamped 'G.H.' He does not -secrete it as you think but exposes it carelessly to view. I advise you -to go straight to your apartment and await my letter. It is necessary -for me to find out particulars which it might be unwise for you to do. I -don't want you to fall under suspicion." - -"You are very thoughtful," sneered Trent. He knew well enough that he -had a value in Kaufmann's eyes which would be destroyed were he to come -under police supervision. That this was the only case where he was to be -used was unlikely. Having used him once he would be at their command -again. But would he? Anthony Trent sat back in his chair deep lines on -his drawn white face. This was the reward of the life he had led. And -the way to break from Kaufmann's grip was to run the risk of the long -prison term, or--the taking of a life. And even were he to come to this -Kaufmann might be only one of a gang whose other members might command -his services. - -"I shall send you a message by telephone if it is still in your flat. It -is? Good. That simplifies matters. Wait until you receive it and then -act immediately." - -Anthony Trent disregarded the outstretched hand and cordial smile, when -a minute or so later, the train pulled into the Grand Central. He hailed -a taxi and drove to his rooms utterly obsessed with his bitter thoughts. -It was not until he pulled up the shades and glanced about the place -that he remembered Mrs. Kinney. He had forgotten her. But he relied on -her common sense. Sooner or later she would come. Meanwhile he must wait -for Kaufmann's telephone message. - -The message arrived before the woman. "To-morrow," said Kaufmann, "your -friend leaves for Washington. He is staying at the Carlton and goes to -his room after dinner. He will be pleased to see you. To-morrow night I -shall call upon you soon after dark." - -The Carlton was the newest of the hotels, the most superbly decorated, -the hotel that always disappointed the _nouveau riche_ because so little -goldleaf had been used in the process. Anthony Trent had spent a night -or two in every big hotel the city boasted. In a little note book there -were certain salient features carefully put down, hints which might be -useful to him. Turning to the book he read it carefully. He was already -acquainted with the general lay-out of the hotel which had been -generously explained in the architectural papers. - -The hotel detectives were men of whom he liked to learn as much as -possible. The house detective, the head of them, was Francis Xavier -Glynn who felt himself kin to Gaboriau because of his subtle methods. He -would often come to the hotel desk and register talking in a loud tone -about his Western business connections. He dressed in what he assumed -was the Western manner. To his associates this seemed the height of -cunning. As a matter of fact the high class crook who prefers the high -class hotel knew of it and was amused. Clarke was Trent's informant. The -old editor had pointed him out to the younger man one day when they had -met near enough to the hotel's café entrance to go in and have a drink. - -As a rule Trent made elaborate plans for the successful carrying out of -his work. But here he was suddenly told to engage in a very difficult -operation. Disguises must be good indeed to stand the glare of hotel -corridors and dining rooms. He decided to go and trust to some plan -suggesting itself when the moment arrived. - -He registered as Conway Parker of York, Pennsylvania and the grip which -the boy carried to his room had on it "C.P. York, Pa." Trent had given a -couple of dollars for it at a second hand store. It dulled suspicions -which might have been aroused where the bag and initials glaringly new. -It was part of Francis Xavier Glynn's plan to have the hotel boys report -hourly on any unusual happening. - -As Trent had waited to register he noted the name he was looking for, -Commander Heathcote, had a room on the 17th floor. Parker was assigned -to one on the seventh. Directly the boy had left Anthony Trent started -to work. He found just cause of offense so far as the location of his -room went. It was an inside room and the heat of the day made it -oppressive. Commander Heathcote, as he found by taking a trip to the -seventeenth floor, had an outside room. A further investigation proved -that immediately over the Commander's room was an unoccupied suite. To -effect the exchange was not easy. Trent could not very well dictate the -location of the room or betray so exact a knowledge of hotel topography -without incurring suspicion. But at last the thing was done. The -gentleman from York wanted a sitting room, bedroom and bath and obtained -it immediately over those of the naval officer. - -He passed Heathcote in the dining room, and looked at him keenly. The -two men were of a height. Heathcote was broader. Trent instantly knew -him for that fighting type characterized by the short, straight nose, -cleft chin and light blue eyes. It was a man to beware of in an -encounter. He limped a little and walked with a cane. And while he -waited for his _hors d'oeuvres_ he took out a long pigskin cigarette -case. It was within ten feet of the man who had come to steal it. For a -wild moment he wondered whether it were possible to lunge for it and -make his escape. A moment later he was annoyed that such a puerile -thought had visited him. It meant that his nerves were not under their -usual control. - -After dinner two or three men spoke to the Commander as he limped toward -the elevator. One, a British colonel, shook hands heartily and -congratulated him on the V.C. Another, a stranger evidently, tried to -get him into conversation. Trent noted that the Commander, although -courteous to a degree, was not minded to make hotel acquaintances. He -declined a drink and refused a cigar by taking out his cigarette case. -The stranger looked at it curiously. - -"Seen some service, hasn't it?" the affable stranger remarked and took -it from the owner's hand. - -"A very old pal," said the naval man. Trent had observed the slight -hesitation before he had permitted it to leave his hand. "I wouldn't -lose it for a lot." - -Trent stood ready. It might be that this thick skinned stranger was -after the same loot as he. But he handed it back and strolled off to the -café where he joined a group of perfectly respectable business men from -Columbus, O. - -As most travelers in first class hotels know, the eighteenth story of -the Carlton looks across a block of fashionable private houses on its -north side. There is on that account no possibility of any prying -stranger gazing into its rooms from across the way. Towering above these -lesser habitations the Carlton looms inaccessible, austere, remote. - -In the grip which had once belonged to the unknown "C. P. of York, Pa." -Anthony Trent had put the kit necessary for a short stay. There was also -certain equipment without which certain nervous travelers rarely stray -from home. For example there was a small axe. In a collision at sea many -are drowned who might escape did not the impact have the effect of -jamming the doors of their state rooms. The axe in the hands of the -thoughtful voyager could be used to hack through thin planking to -freedom. There was also a small coil of high grade rope, tested to three -hundred pounds. In case of fire the careful traveler might slide to -earth. Not, of course, from an eighteenth floor. - -At half past one that night it was very dark and cloudy. A light rain -dropped on dusty streets and there was silence. Tying his line to the -firm anchorage of a pipe in the bath room Anthony Trent began his work. -He was dressed in a dark blue suit. He wore no collar and on his hands -were dark gray gloves. Below him was the green and white striped awning -that protected Commander Heathcote's windows. It was almost certain that -an Englishman would sleep with windows open. - -It was not difficult for a gymnast to slide down the rope head foremost. -When Trent could touch the top of the Heathcote awning he took a safety -razor blade from his lips and cut a slit across it sufficiently wide to -admit his head and shoulders. - -It was not a descent which caused much trouble. There was the chance -that the rope might break. He wondered through how many awnings he would -plunge before consciousness left him. - -Heathcote was asleep. By a table near the bed was an ash tray, matches, -Conrad's "Youth" and the cigarette case. And lying near was the stout -cane which the man who was wounded in that splendid attack on Zeebrugge -used to aid himself in his halting walk. - -Trent, with the case in his pocket, walked to the door. It was not his -intention to make the more hazardous climb up to his room when so easy a -way of getting there presented itself. It was locked and barred. - -In his room he sat and looked at what he had taken. It represented, so -Kaufmann said, his freedom from arrest. It contained plans of vital -importance to the allies. They could only be used by the enemy to bring -destruction to those who fought for right. And what punishment would be -given the wounded hero for losing what was entrusted to him? For an hour -Trent sat there looking at the pigskin case. And gradually what had -seemed an impossible sacrifice to make, came to be something desirable -and splendid. Anthony Trent had never been able to regard his career as -one justified by circumstances. There burned in his breast the spark of -patriotism more strongly than he knew. He had fought his fight and won. -His eyes were moist as he thought of his father, that old civil war -soldier who had been wounded on Gettysburg's bloody field and walked -always with a limp like the English sailor beneath. - -When he opened the door Heathcote was still slumbering. He replaced the -case as nearly in the position he found as he could. In that moment -Anthony Trent felt he could look any man in the face. - -He was still slumbering when Commander Heathcote awoke. Presently the -officer saw that the door was unbarred and as investigation proved, -unlocked. - -"I'd have sworn," muttered the Commander, "that I locked and barred -it." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -MRS. KINNEY INTERVENES - - -AT his apartment, which he reached by noon, he found a note from Mrs. -Kinney advising him that she would not be back until late. A salad would -be found in the ice box. But his appetite had deserted him and strong -tea and crackers sufficed him. The feeling of exaltation which had -carried him along was now dying down leaving in its place a grim, dogged -determination. He saw now very clearly that the time was come to pay for -his misdeeds. Dimly he had felt that some day there would have to be a -reckoning. He had never thought it so near. - -It would not have been difficult to make his escape from the man who -threatened. With his swift motor he could cross some sparsely peopled -border district into Canada. Or he could drop down into South or Central -America and there wait until the years brought safety or he had -deteriorated in fibre as do most men of his race in tropic sloth. - -The thing that kept him was a chivalrous, burning desire to capture -Kaufmann. Anthony Trent wondered how many men weaker than he had been -forced to betray their country as he had very nearly done. And the -knowledge that he had even considered such baseness for a moment -awakened a deep smouldering wrath in his mind that needed for its outlet -some expression of physical force. Kaufmann was strongly built and -rugged but it would hardly be a smiling suave spy that he would drag -before the police. At least they would go down to ruin together. - -At ten thirty the bell rang. But the feeble steps that made their weary -ascent were those of Mrs. Kinney. When first he flung open the door he -hardly recognized her. As a rule neat and quietly dressed in black she -was to-night wearing the faded gingham dress she used for rough work, a -dress he had seldom seen. She wore no hat; instead a handkerchief was on -her head. She looked for all the world like some shabby denizen of the -city's foreign quarters. - -"Are you expecting him?" she demanded. - -"Yes," he said dully. It was a shock not to meet him when he was nerved -to the task. - -She looked at him with a certain triumph in her face that was not -unmixed with affection. - -"He will never come here again." - -"What do you mean?" he cried. - -"He's dead." It was curious to note the flash of her usually mild eye as -she said it. For a moment he thought the old woman was demented. But her -voice was firm. - -"I followed him on his way here," she went on. "I found out where he -lived. As he crossed Eighth avenue at 34th street I told people he was a -German spy. There were a lot of soldiers on their way to the -Pennsylvania station and they started to run after him. Then a man -tripped him up but he got to his feet and crossed the road in front of a -motor truck." - -"You are certain he was killed?" - -"I waited to make sure," she said simply. "Nobody knew it was I who -started calling him a spy." - -There was a pause of half a minute. The knowledge of his safety was -almost too much for Trent after his hours of suspense. - -"I suppose you know," he said huskily, "that you've probably saved my -life. I didn't do as he wanted me to. I was prepared to denounce him to -the police." - -"But they'd have got you, too," she said. - -"I know," he returned. "I'd thought of that." - -"Oh, Mr. Trent!" she cried, "Oh, Mr. Trent!" Then for the second time in -the years he had known her she fell into a fit of weeping. - -When she was recovered and had taken a cup of strong tea she explained -how it was she had tracked Kaufmann to his home. She had slipped away -from Trent at the Grand Central when he was too much worried to notice -it. Kaufmann walked the half dozen blocks to his rooms in the house -occupied by a physician on Forty-eighth street, just west of Fifth -avenue. Applying for work Mrs. Kinney was engaged instantly for two days -a week. The need for respectable women was so great that no references -were asked. She was thus free of the house and regarded without -suspicion. - -She worked there the whole day but learned nothing from the cook and -waitress of Mr. Kaufmann. He rented the whole of the second floor and -had a fad for keeping it in order himself. It saved them trouble. The -maids said, vaguely, he was in the importing business and very wealthy. - -It was while Kaufmann went down to sign for a registered letter that -Mrs. Kinney slipped into the room. There was nothing in the way of -papers or documents that she could see. - -Because he could not bear investigation, Anthony Trent telephoned to the -Department of Justice as he had done in the case of Frederick Williams. -He felt certain that Kaufmann was a highly placed official. But there -was no newspaper mention of the raid. Trent was not to know that no news -was allowed to leak out for the reason that matters of enormous -importance were discovered. He was right in assuming Kaufmann to be a -personage. The mangled body was buried in the Potters' Field and those -lesser men depending on the monetary support and counsel of Kaufmann -were thrown into confusion. His superiors in Germany, when later they -found the Allies in possession of certain secrets, assumed their agent -to be interned. Altogether Mrs. Kinney deserved her country's thanks. - -"And now shall we go back to Kennebago?" - -"Not yet," he said smiling a little gravely. "Not yet. It may be I shall -never see Kennebago again." - -She looked at him startled. The affairs of the past week had been a -great strain to her. - -"I'm going to enlist," he said. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -"PRIVATE TRENT" - - -Before Trent went to enlist, he had an understanding with Mrs. Kinney as -to the Kennebago camp. She was to live there and keep the house and -gardens in good order until he returned. He had none of those -premonitions of disaster which some who go to war have in abundance. Now -that the danger of his arrest was gone and Kaufmann could never again -entrap him he felt cheerful and lighthearted. - -"I shall come back," he told the old woman, "I feel it in my bones. But -if not there will be enough for you to live on. I am seeing my lawyer -about it this morning." - -On the way to the recruiting station, Trent met Weems. - -"What branch are you going in?" he asked upon learning of Trent's plans. - -"Where I'm most needed," Trent said cheerfully. "Infantry I guess." - -"You can get a commission right away," Weems cried, a sudden thought -striking him. "It was in last night's papers. It said that men holding -the B.S. degree were wanted and would be commissioned right off the -reel. You're a B.S. You wait a bit. Be an officer instead of an enlisted -man. I bet the food's better." - -He was a little piqued that Anthony Trent betrayed so little pleasure at -the news. It so happened that Trent had given a deal of thought to this -very thing. And his decision was to allow the chance of a commission to -go. There was a strain of quixotism about him and a certain fineness of -feeling which went to make this decision final. He loved his country in -the quiet intense manner which does not show itself in the waving of -flags. To outward appearances and to the unjudging mind, Weems would -seem the more loyal of the two. Weems wore a flag in his buttonhole and -shouted loudly his protestations and yet had made no sacrifice. Trent -was to offer his life quietly, untheatrically. And he wanted to wear no -officer's uniform in case his arrest or discovery would bring reproach -upon it. In his mind he could see headlines in the paper announcing that -an officer of the United States Army was a notorious--he shuddered at -the word--thief. And again, there was no certainty in his mind that he -would give up his mode of life. In the beginning he had set out to -obtain enough money to live in comfort. That, long ago, had been -achieved. Then the jewels to adorn his lamp occupied his mind and now -the game was in his blood. He wanted his camp for recreation but it -would not satisfy wholly. When the war was over there would be Europe's -fertile fields to work upon. - -There were many things to aid him in his feeling that the turning over -of a new leaf would be useless. Nothing could ever undo what he had -done. Try as he might he would never face the world an honest man. He -would go to war. He would be a good soldier. - -It was in the infantry that they needed men and Camp Dix received him -with others. So insignificant a thing was one soldier that he presently -felt a sense of security that had been denied him for years. - -The experiences he went through in Camp were common to all. They were -easier to him than most because of his perfection of physical condition. -On the whole it was interesting work but he was glad when he marched -along the piers of the Army Transport Service, where formerly German -lines had docked, and boarded the _Leviathan_. Private Trent was going -"over there." - -It was common knowledge that the regiments would not yet be sent to -France. What they had learned at Camp Dix would be supplemented by a -post-graduate course in England. - -Curiously enough Trent found himself on the Sussex Downs, those rolling -hills of chalk covered with short springy aromatic grasses and flowers. -Here were a hundred sights and sounds that stirred his blood. Five -generations of Trents had been born in America since that adventurous -younger son had set out for the Western world. The present Anthony was -coming back to the ancient home of his family under the most favorable -circumstances. He was coming back with his mind purged of ancient -enmities fostered so long by Britain's foes to further alien causes; -coming back to a country knit to his own by bonds that would not easily -be broken. - -It was curious that he should find himself here on the high downs -because it was from this county of Sussex that the Trents sprang. Not -far from Lewes was an old house, set among elms, which had been theirs -for three hundred years. When he was last in England he had made a -pilgrimage to it only to find its owner salmon fishing in Norway. The -housekeeper had shown him over it, a big rambling house full of odd -corridors and unexpected steps and he had never failed to think of it -with pride. On that visit he had been disappointed to find the village -church shut; the sexton was at his midday dinner. - -Trent had been under canvas only a few days when he obtained leave for a -few hours and set out to the church. He counted three Anthony Trents -whose deeds were told on mural tablets. One had been an admiral; one a -bishop and the third a colonel of Dragoons at Waterloo. He sauntered by -the old house and looked at it enviously. "If I bought that," he -thought, "I would settle down to the ways of honest men." - -He shrugged his shoulders. There were many things yet to be done. It was -only since he had been in England and seen her wounded that he realized -what none can until it is witnessed, the certainty that there must be -much suffering before the end is achieved. - -The men in his company were not especially congenial. They were friendly -enough but their interests were narrow. Trent was glad when the training -period was over and he embarked in the troop train for Dover _en route_ -to the Western front. He made a good soldier. More than one of his mates -said he would wear the chevrons before many weeks but he was anxious for -no such distinction. - -At the time his regiment arrived in France the American troops were at -grips with the enemy. It was the first time that they held as a unit -part of the line. The Germans, already making their retreat, left in -the rear nests of machine gunners to hamper the pursuers. To clear these -nests of hornets, to search abandoned cellars and buildings where men or -bombs might be lying in wait was a task far more deadly than -participation in a battle. Only iron-nerved men, strong to act and quick -to think, were needed. There was a day when volunteers were asked for. -Anthony Trent was the first man to offer himself. Under a lieutenant -this band of brave men went about its dangerous task. The casualties -were many and among them the officer. - -He had made such an impression on his men and they had gained such -favorable mention for gallant conduct that there was a fear lest the new -officer might be of less vigorous and dashing nature. It was work, this -nest clearing danger, that Trent liked enormously. He had come to know -what traps the Hun was likely to set, the tempting cigar-box, the field -glasses, the fountain-pen the touching of which meant maiming at the -least. And against some of these trapped men Trent revived his old -football tackle and brought them startled to the ground. It was the most -stirring game of his life. - -But one look at the new officer changed his mood. He looked at his -lieutenant and his lieutenant looked at him. And the officer licked his -lips hungrily. It was Devlin whom he had laughed at in San Francisco. -Instinctively the men who observed this meeting sensed some pre-war -hatred and speculated on its origin. Recollecting himself Trent saluted. - -"So I've got a thief in my company," Devlin sneered. "I'll have to -watch you pretty close. Looting's forbidden." - -It was plain to the men who watched Devlin's subsequent plan of action -that he was trying to goad the enlisted man into striking him. In France -the discipline of the American army was taking on the sterner character -of that which distinguished the Allies. - -No task had ever been so difficult for Anthony Trent as this continual -curb he was compelled to put upon his tongue. Devlin had always disliked -him. He was maddened at the thought that Trent had taken the Mount Aubyn -ruby from under his nose. It was because of this, Dangerfield had -discharged him from a lucrative position. And in the case of the -Takowaja emerald it was Anthony Trent who had laughed at him. Many an -hour had Devlin spent trying to weave the rope that would hang him. And -in these endeavors he had gathered many odds and ends of information -over which he chuckled with joy. - -But first of all he wanted to break his enemy. There was no opportunity -of which he did not take advantage. Ordinarily his superior officers -would have witnessed this policy and reprimanded him; but conditions -were such that their special duties kept Devlin and his men apart from -their comrades. Devlin was a good officer and credit was given him for -much that Trent deserved. - -It chanced one night that while they waited for a little wood to be -cleared of gas, Devlin and Trent sat within a few feet of one another. -It was an opportunity Devlin was quick to seize. - -"Thought you'd fooled me in 'Frisco, didn't you?" - -Trent lighted a cigarette with exasperating slowness. - -"I did fool you," he asserted calmly. "It is never hard to fool a man -with your mental equipment." - -"Huh," Devlin grunted, "you've got the criminal's low cunning, I'll -admit that, Mr. Maltby of Chicago." - -He made a labored pretence of hunting for his cigarette case. - -"Gone!" he said sneering; "some one's lifted it but I guess you know -where it is. Oh no, I forgot. You weren't a dip, you were a second story -man. Excuse me." - -He kept this heavy and malicious humor going until Trent's -imperturbability annoyed him. - -"What a change!" he commented presently. "Me the officer and you the -enlisted man who's got to do as I say. You with your fast auto and your -golf and society ways and me who used to be a cop." - -Winning no retort from his victim he leaned forward and pushed Trent -roughly. He started back at the white wrath which transfigured the -other's face. - -"Look here, Devlin," Trent cried savagely, "you want me to hit you so -you can prefer charges against me for striking an officer and have me -disciplined. Listen to this: if you put your filthy hand on me again I -won't hit you, I'll kill you." - -Towering and threatening he stood over the other. Devlin, who knew men -and the ways of violence, looked into Trent's face and recognized it was -no idle threat he heard. - -"That would be a hell of a fine trick," he said, a little unsteadily, -"to empty your gun in my back." - -"You know I wouldn't do it that way," Trent retorted. "Why should I let -you off so easily as that?" - -"Easily?" Devlin repeated. - -"When I get ready," Trent said grimly, "I shall want you to realize -what's coming to you." - -"Is that a threat?" Devlin demanded. - -Trent nodded his head. - -"It's a threat." - -Devlin thought for a moment. - -"I'll fix you," he said. - -"How?" Trent inquired. "You've tried every way there is to have me -killed. If there's a doubtful place where some boches may be hiding with -bombs whom do you send to find out? You send Private Trent. I'm not -kicking. I volunteered for the job. I came out to do what I could. My -one disappointment is that my officer is not also a gentleman." - -Devlin's face was now better humored. - -"I'll fix you," he said again, "I'll see Pershing pins a medal on you -all right." - -Trent wondered what he meant. And he wondered why for a day or two -Devlin goaded him no more. Instead he looked at him as one who knew -another was marked down for death and disgrace. It was inevitable that -Anthony Trent could never know how near to discovery he was. The odds -are against the best breakers of law. The history of crime told him that -the cleverest had been captured by some trifling piece of carelessness. -Had Devlin some such clue, he wondered? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -DEVLIN'S REVENGE - - -THERE came a night when Devlin's men were called upon to clean out part -of a forest from which many snipers had been firing, and where machine -guns and their crews were known to be. It was work for picked men only -and Trent admitted Devlin made a courageous leader. - -The Americans met unexpectedly strong opposition. It was only when half -their little company was lost that they were ordered to retreat. The way -was made difficult with barbed wire and shell splintered trees. It was -one of a hundred similar sorties taking place all along the Allied lines -hardly worthy of mention in the press. - -Trent, when he had gained a clearing in the wood, saw Devlin go down -like an ox from the clubbed rifle in a Prussian hand. Trent had put a -shot through the man's head almost before Devlin's body fell to the soft -earth. He had an excellent chance of escape alone but he could not leave -the American officer who was his enemy to bleed to death among his -country's foes. He was almost spent when he reached his own lines and -the Red Cross relieved him of his inert burden. They told him Devlin -still lived. - -Three days later Trent was called to the hospital in which his officer -lay white and bandaged. Although Devlin's voice was weak it did not -lack the note of enmity which ever distinguished it when its owner spoke -to Anthony Trent. - -"What did you do it for?" Devlin demanded. - -"Do what?" - -"Bring me in after that boche laid me out?" - -"Only one reason," Trent informed him. "Alive, you have a certain use to -your country. Dead, you would have none." - -"That's a lie," Devlin snarled, "I've figured it out lying in this -damned cot. You saw I wasn't badly hurt and you knew some of the boys -would fetch me in later. You thought you'd do a hero stunt and get a -decoration and you reckoned I'd be grateful and let up on you. That was -clever but not clever enough for me. I see through it. You've got away -with out-guessing the other feller so far but I'm one jump ahead of you -in this." He paused for breath, "I've got you fixed, Mister Anthony -Trent, and don't you forget it. You think I'm bluffing I suppose." - -"I think you're exciting yourself unduly," Trent said quietly. "Take it -up when you are well." - -"You're afraid to hear what I know," Devlin sneered. "You've got to hear -it sometime, so why not now?" - -Trent spoke as one does to a child or a querulous invalid. - -"Well, what is it?" he demanded. - -"Never heard of any one named Austin, did you?" - -"It's not an unusual name," Trent admitted. But he was no longer -uninterested. Conington Warren's butler was so called. And this Austin -had met him face to face on the stairway of his master's house on the -night that he had taken Conington Warren's loose cash and jewels. - -"He's out here," Devlin said and looked hard at Trent to see what effect -the news would have. - -"You forget I don't know whom," Trent reminded him. "What Austin?" - -"You know," Devlin snapped, "the Warren butler. I was on that case and -he recognized me not a week ago and asked me who you were. He's seen -you, too. We put two and two together and it spells the pen for you. He -was English and although he was over age the British are polite that -way. If he said he was forty-one they said they guessed he was -forty-one. I went to see him in a hospital before he 'went west' and he -told me all about it." - -Anthony Trent could not restrain a sigh of relief. Austin was dead. - -"That don't help you any," Devlin cried. "Don't you wish you'd left me -in the woods now? That was your opportunity. Why didn't you take it?" - -"You wouldn't understand," Trent answered. "For one thing you dislike me -too much to see anything but bad in what I do. That's your weakness. -That's why you have always failed." - -"Well, I haven't failed this time," Devlin taunted him. "I've laid -information against you where it's going to do most good." - -He hoped to see the man he hated exhibit fear, plead for mercy or beg -for a respite. He had rehearsed this expected scene during the night -watches. Instead he saw the hawk-like face inscrutable as ever. - -"I've told the adjutant what I know and what Austin said and he's bound -to make an investigation. That means you'll be sent home for trial and -I guess you know what that means. I'm going to be invalided home and -I'll put in my leave working up the case against you. They ought to give -you a stretch of anything from fifteen to twenty years. I guess that'll -hold you, Mister Anthony Trent." - -The other man made no answer. He thought instead of what such a prison -term would do for him. He had seen the gradual debasement of men of even -a high type during the long years of internment. Men who had gone -through prison gates with the same instincts of refinement as he -possessed to come out coarsened, different, never again to be the men -they were. He would sidle through the gaping doors a furtive thing with -cunning crafty eyes whose very walk stamped him a convict. How could so -long a term of years spent among professional criminals fail to besmirch -him? - -He took a long breath. - -"I'm not there yet," he said. "It's a long way to an American jail and a -good bit can happen in three thousand miles." - -He was turned from these dismal channels of thought by a hospital -orderly who summoned him to the adjutant's quarters. - -In civil life this officer had been a well known lawyer who had -abandoned a large practice to take upon himself the over work and -worries that always hurl themselves at an adjutant. - -He had heard of the rescue of Lieutenant Devlin by a man of his company -and was pleased to learn that it was an alumnus of his old college who -had been recommended for a decoration on that account. He looked at -Trent a moment in silence. - -"When I last saw you," he said, "you won the game for us against -Harvard." He sighed, "I never thought to see you in a case of this -sort." - -"I don't know what you mean, sir," Trent answered him. - -"For some reason or another," the adjutant informed him, "Lieutenant -Devlin has preferred charges against you which had better been left -until this war is over in my opinion as a soldier." - -"I am still in the dark," Trent reminded him. - -Captain Sutton looked over some papers. - -"You are charged," he said, "with being a very remarkable and much -sought after criminal. Devlin asserts you purloined a ruby owned by Mr. -Dangerfield worth a hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars, and an -emerald worth almost as much." - -"What a curious delusion," Trent commented with calmness. - -"Delusion?" retorted the adjutant. - -"What else could it be?" the other inquired. - -"It might be the truth," the officer said drily. - -"Does he offer proofs?" - -"More I'm afraid than you'll care to read," Captain Sutton told him. -"You understand, I suppose, that there are certain regulations which -govern us in a case like this. I should like to dismiss it as something -entirely irrelevant to military duties. You were a damned good football -player, Trent, and they tell me you're just as good a soldier, but an -officer has preferred charges against you and they must be given -attention. Sit down there for a few minutes." - -Devlin, feeling the hour of triumph approaching, lay back in his bed -gloating. The hatred that he bore Anthony Trent was legitimate enough in -its way. By some accident or another Devlin was enlisted on the side of -the law and his opponent against it. One was the hunter; the other the -hunted. And the hunter was soon to witness the disgrace of the man who -had laughed at him, beaten him, cheated him of a coveted position. -Naturally of a brave and pugnacious disposition, Devlin saw no lack of -chivalry in hounding a man over whom he had military authority. If Trent -had been his friend he would have fought for him. But since he was his -foe he must taste the bitterness of the vanquished. - -So engrossed was he over his pleasurable thoughts that he did not see -the distress which came over the face of the nurse who took his -temperature and recorded his pulse beat. Nor did he see the hastily -summoned physician reading the recently marked chart over the bed. -Instead he was filled with a strange and satisfying exaltation of -spirit. Catches of old forgotten songs came back to him. He felt himself -growing stronger. He was Devlin the superman, the captor of Anthony -Trent who had beaten the best of them. It was almost with irritation -that he opened his eyes to speak with the doctor, a middle-aged, gray -man with kindly eyes. - -"Lieutenant," the doctor said gently, "things aren't going as well with -you as we hoped. You should not have exhausted yourself talking. It -should not have been allowed." - -Devlin saw the doctor put his hand under the coverlet; then he felt a -prick in his arm. Dully he knew that it was the sting of a hypodermic. -Then he saw coming toward him a priest of his race and faith and knew he -came in that dread hour to administer the last rites of the church. - -"Doc," he gasped, "am I going?" - -It was no moment to utter lying comfort. - -"I'm afraid so." - -Then he saw an orderly bringing the screen that was placed about the -beds of those about to die. - - * * * * * - -When Captain Sutton and Anthony Trent came into the ward the priest had -finished his solemn work and was gone to console another dying man and -the physicians to make one of those quick operations unthinkable in the -leisurely days of peace. - -Trent had no knowledge of what had taken place during his absence. He -saw that his enemy was more exhausted. And as he looked he noticed that -the eyes of Devlin lacked something of their hate. But it was no time -for speculation. Trent saw in the sick man only his nemesis, the -instrument which fate was using to rob him of his liberty. He was not to -know that here was a man so close to death that hate seemed idle and -vengeance a burden. - -"Lieutenant," Captain Sutton began, "I have here a copy of your -statements and the evidence given by Sergeant Austin of the British -army. I will read it to you. Then I shall need witnesses to your -signature." - -"Let me see it," Devlin commanded and drew the typewritten sheets to -him. Then, with what strength was left him, he tore the document across -and across again. - -Captain Sutton looked at him in amazement. - -"What did you do that for?" he asked. - -But Devlin paid no heed to him. He gazed into the face of Anthony Trent, -the man he had hated. - -"I made a mistake," said Devlin faintly. "This isn't the man." - -And with this splendid and generous lie upon his lips he came to his -life's end. - -FINIS - - * * * * * - -Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - -A little aften ten=> A little after ten {pg 11} - -patroling city sidewalks=> patrolling city sidewalks {pg 37} - -a champaign-drinking adventuress=> a champagne-drinking adventuress {pg -90} - -recited Brigg's evidence=> recited Briggs's evidence {pg 95} - -said Trent a minute later, "It is the=> said Trent a minute later, "it -is the {pg 157} - -His grievance, is seemed=> His grievance, it seemed {pg 172} - -a twenty-foot put=> a twenty-foot putt {pg 173} - -a women I hardly know=> a woman I hardly know {pg 203} - -we found the the big living room door=> we found the big living room -door {pg 205} - -"Knowing Andrew Apthorpe it does not," he answered=> "Knowing Andrew -Apthorpe it does not," she answered {pg 206} - -Most woman hate=> Most women hate {pg 214} - -other friends were to be Trent's guest=> other friends were to be -Trent's guests {pg 222} - -Assuredly a a timid=> Assuredly a timid {pg 239} - -so report ran=> so the report ran {pg 243} - -starling a contrast=> startling a contrast {pg 244} - -a certain sublety about=> a certain subtlety about {pg 248} - -In the billard room=> In the billiard room {pg 251} - -furniture Weens had gathered=> furniture Weems had gathered {pg 267} - -looms inaccessibles=> looms inaccessible {pg 294} - -when it's owner spoke=> when its owner spoke {pg 310} - -Conington's Warren's loose cash=> Conington Warren's loose cash {pg 311} - -the adjustant's quarters=> the adjutant's quarters {pg 312} - - * * * * * - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Anthony Trent, Master Criminal, by Wyndham Martyn - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL *** - -***** This file should be named 40909-8.txt or 40909-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/9/0/40909/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - -</pre> - +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40909 ***</div> </body> </html> diff --git a/40909.txt b/40909.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d9725a9..0000000 --- a/40909.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10117 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Anthony Trent, Master Criminal, by Wyndham Martyn - -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/license - - -Title: Anthony Trent, Master Criminal - -Author: Wyndham Martyn - -Release Date: October 1, 2012 [EBook #40909] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - -ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL - - - - -ANTHONY TRENT, -MASTER CRIMINAL - -BY - -WYNDHAM MARTYN - -NEW YORK -MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY -1918 - -COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY -MOFFAT YARD & COMPANY - -TO -THOSE OLD AND TRIED FRIENDS OF MINE - -LILY AND ERNEST CARR - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER PAGE - -I THE FIRST STEP 1 - -II ANTHONY TRENT TALKS ON CRIME 14 - -III THE DAY OF TEMPTATION 24 - -IV BEGINNING THE GAME 36 - -V ANTHONY PULLS UP STAKES 45 - -VI FOOLING SHYLOCK DRUMMOND 55 - -VII THE DANGER OF SENTIMENT 68 - -VIII WHEN A WOMAN SMILED 82 - -IX "THE COUNTESS" 94 - -X ANTHONY TRENT SAVES A PIANO 100 - -XI ESPIONAGE AT CLOSE RANGE 116 - -XII THE SINN FEIN PLOT 126 - -XIII ANTHONY TRENT INTERESTS - HIMSELF IN POLICE GOSSIP 135 - -XIV AMBULANCES AND DIAMONDS 144 - -XV THE BARON LENDS A HAND 156 - -XVI THE MOUNT AUBYN RUBY 162 - -XVII TRENT TAKES A HOLIDAY 172 - -XVIII THE GREAT BLACK BIRD 180 - -XIX TRENT ACQUIRES A HOME 192 - -XX "WANTED--AN EMERALD" 196 - -XXI THE MURDER OF ANDREW APTHORPE 208 - -XXII A THIEF TO CATCH A THIEF 219 - -XXIII THE SECRET OF THE BLACK BAG 227 - -XXIV DEVLIN'S PROMISE 232 - -XXV ON THE TRAIL OF "THE COUNTESS" 236 - -XXVI ANTHONY TRENT--"PAYING GUEST" 251 - -XXVII MRS. KINNEY MAKES A CONFESSION 267 - -XXVIII THE GERMAN SPY MERCHANT 284 - -XXIX MRS. KINNEY INTERVENES 297 - -XXX "PRIVATE TRENT" 301 - -XXXI DEVLIN'S REVENGE 309 - - - - -ANTHONY TRENT - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE FIRST STEP - - -AUSTIN the butler gave his evidence in a straightforward fashion. He was -a man slightly below middle height, inclined to portliness, but bore -himself with the dignity of one who had been likened to an archbishop. - -Although he had been examined by a number of minor officials, hectored -by them, threatened or cajoled as they interpreted their duty, his -testimony remained the same. And when he hoped this tedious business was -all over, he was brought before Inspector McWalsh and compelled to begin -all over again. It was McWalsh's theory that a man may be startled into -telling the truth that will convict him. He had a habit of leaning -forward, chin thrust out, great fists clenched, and hurling accusations -at suspects. - -He disliked Austin at sight. The feeling was not wholly of national -origin. McWalsh liked witnesses, no less than criminals, to exhibit some -indications of the terrors his name had inspired to the guilty. Austin -gazed about him as though the surroundings were not to his taste. His -attitude was one of deferential boredom. He recognized the inspector as -one representing justly constituted authority to be accepted with -respect in everything but a social sense. - -Inspector McWalsh permitted himself to make jocose remarks as to -Austin's personal appearance. McWalsh passed for a wit among his -inferiors. - -"At half past twelve on Tuesday I came into the library," the butler -repeated patiently, "and asked Mr. Warren if he wanted anything before I -went to bed." - -"What did he say?" demanded the inspector. - -"That he did not want anything and that I could go to bed." - -"And you did?" - -"Naturally," the butler returned. - -"What duties have you the last thing before retiring?" - -"I see that the doors and windows are fastened." - -The inspector sneered. The small black eyes set in his heavy red face -regarded the smaller man malevolently. - -"And you did it so damn well that within an hour or so, ten thousand -dollars' worth of valuables was walked off with by a crook! How do you -account for that?" - -"I don't try to," the butler answered suavely, "that's for you gentlemen -of the police. I have my duties and I attend to them as my testimonials -show. I don't presume to give you advice but I should say it was because -the crook was cleverer than your men." - -"Don't get funny," snapped McWalsh. He had on the table before him -Austin's modest life history which consisted mainly in terms of service -to wealthy families in England and the United States. These proved him -to be efficient and trustworthy. "I want answers to my questions and not -comments from you." - -Austin's manner nettled him. It was that slightly superior air, the -servants' mark of contempt. And never before had the inspector been -referred to as "a gentleman of the police;" he suspected a slight. - -"Let's get this thing straight," he went on. "You went to bed when your -services were no longer required. Your employer said to you, 'You can go -to bed, Austin, I don't want anything,' so you locked up and retired. -You didn't know anything about the burglary until half past six o'clock -on Wednesday morning--this morning---- You aroused your employer who -sent for the police. That's correct?" - -"Absolutely," Austin returned. He was, plainly, not much interested. - -"And you still stick to it that Mr. Warren made that remark?" - -Austin looked at the inspector quickly. His bored manner was gone. - -"Yes," he said deliberately. "To the best of my knowledge those were his -words. I may have made a mistake in the phrasing but that is what he -meant." - -"What's the good of your coming here and lying to me?" The inspector -spoke in an aggrieved tone. - -"I was brought here against my will," Austin reminded him, "and I have -not lied, although your manner has been most offensive. You see, sir, -I'm accustomed to gentlefolk." - -McWalsh motioned him to be silent. - -"That'll do," he commanded, "I'm not interested in what you think. Now -answer this carefully. What clothes was Mr. Warren wearing?" - -"Evening dress," said the butler, "but a claret-colored velvet smoking -jacket instead of a black coat." - -"How was he looking?" - -"Do you mean in what direction?" - -"You know I don't. I mean was he looking as usual? Was there anything -unusual in his look?" - -"Nothing that I noticed," Austin told him, "but then his back was to me -so I am not competent to judge." - -"When you speak to any one don't you go up and look 'em in the face like -a man same as I'm talking and looking at you?" - -Austin permitted himself to smile. - -"Do you suggest I should look at Mr. Warren as you are looking at me? -Pardon me, sir, but I should lose my place if I did." - -McWalsh flushed a darker red. - -"Why didn't you look at him in your own way then?" - -"It's very clear," Austin answered with dignity, "that you know very -little of the ways of an establishment like ours. I stood at the door as -I usually do, asked a question I have done hundreds of times and -received the same answer I do as a rule. If I'd known I was to have to -answer all these questions I might have recollected more about it." - -"What was Mr. Warren doing?" - -"Reading a paper and smoking." - -"He was alone?" - -"Yes." - -"And all the other servants had gone to bed?" - -"Yes." - -"You heard no unusual sounds that night?" - -"If I had I should have investigated them." - -"No doubt," sneered the other, "you look like a man who would enjoy -running into a crook with a gun." - -"I should not enjoy it," Austin returned seriously. - -Inspector McWalsh beckoned to one of his inferiors. - -"Keep this man outside till I send for him and see he don't speak to his -boss who's waiting. Send Mr. Warren right in." - -Conington Warren, one of the most popular men in society, member of the -desirable clubs, millionaire owner of thoroughbreds, came briskly in. He -was now about fifty, handsome still, but his florid face was marked by -the convivial years. Inspector McWalsh had long followed the Warren -colors famous on the big race courses. His manner showed his respect for -the owner of his favorite stable. - -"I asked you to come here," he began, "because you told my secretary -over the phone that you had some new light on this burglary. So far it -seems just an ordinary case without any unusual angles." - -"It's not as ordinary as you think," said Conington Warren. He offered -McWalsh one of his famous cigars. "Incidentally it does not show me up -very favorably as I'm bound to admit." - -McWalsh regarded his cigar reverently. Warren smoked nothing but these -superb things. What a man! What a man! - -"I can't believe that, Mr. Warren," he returned. - -"Are you interested in the thoroughbreds, McWalsh?" - -"Am I?" cried the other enthusiastically. "Why when I couldn't spend a -few hours at old Sheepshead Bay I nearly resigned. Why, Mr. Warren, I -made enough on Conington when he won the Brooklyn Handicap to pay the -mortgage off on my home!" - -"Then you'll understand," the sportsman said graciously. "It's like -this. Last year I bought a number of yearlings at the Newmarket sales in -England. There's one of them--a chestnut colt named Saint Beau--who did -a most remarkable trial a day or two since. In confidence, inspector, it -was better than Conington's best. Make a note of that but keep it under -your hat." - -"I surely will, sir," cried the ecstatic McWalsh. - -"When I heard the time of the trial I gave a little dinner to a number -of good pals at Voisin's." - -The names he mentioned were all of them prominently known in the -fashionable world of sport. - -"We had more champagne than was good for us and when the dinner was over -we all went to Reggie Camplyn's rooms where he invented the Saint Beau -cocktail. I give you my word, inspector, the thing has a thoro'bred kick -to it. It's one of those damned insidious cocktails wrapped up in cream -to make you think it's innocent. After I'd had a few I said to Camplyn, -'You've made me what I am to-night; I insist on sleeping here." - -"But you didn't!" cried McWalsh. - -"Until four in the morning. The Saint Beau cocktail made me so ill at -four that I got up and walked down to my house." - -"What time did you get there?" - -"Exactly at five. I felt the need of the cool air, so I took a long walk -first." - -"Then at half past twelve you were at----" - -"Voisin's as a score of people can prove. I had a table in the balcony -and saw all the people I ever knew it seemed to me." - -"But this morning you told the officers who made an investigation of -the robbery a totally different story. You corroborated your butler's -evidence that you were at home at half past twelve and told him to go to -bed because you didn't want anything else. How do you account for that?" - -The inspector was troubled. His only consolation was that he would have -another session soon with the supercilious Austin. He licked his lips at -the thought. But he did not wish to involve the horseman in any -difficulties if he could avoid it. - -Conington Warren laughed easily. - -"You know how it is, inspector. You can understand that sometimes a man -suddenly waked out of heavy sleep can forget what happened the night -before for the time being. That's what happened with me. I clean forgot -the dinner, Camplyn's Saint Beau cocktail, everything. I only knew I had -the devil of a head. I always rely on Austin." - -"When did you remember?" McWalsh demanded. - -"When Camplyn came in to see me and ask for the ingredients of the -cocktail which he claims I invented. Then I recollected everything and -telephoned to you." - -"I knew that damned fellow was lying," McWalsh cried. "He thought he was -clever. He'll find out just how smart he is! Tell me, Mr. Warren, what -did he want to put up that fiction for?" - -Warren put a hot hand to a head which still ached. - -"I can't imagine," he answered. "I've never found him out in a lie yet. -He's too damn conceited to descend to one. I don't think you should -suspect Austin." - -"I'm sorry, Mr. Warren, but I've got to. He lied to you and he lied to -me and--ten thousand dollars' worth of stuff was stolen. He's in the -outer room now. I'll have him brought in." - -Austin entered with his precise and measured tread and bowed with -respectful affection to his employer. He liked Conington Warren better -than any American with whom he had taken service. The hearty, -horse-loving type was one which appealed to Austin. He had several times -been obliged to throw up lucrative jobs because employers persisted in -treating him as an equal. - -"This is a bad mix-up," his master began. "The inspector seems to think -you have been deceiving him." - -"He has and he knows it," cried McWalsh. - -"He's inclined to be hasty, sir," said Austin tolerantly. - -"See here," snapped the inspector, "you say you found Mr. Warren in his -library at half past twelve. Did you hear him enter the house?" - -"No," the butler returned, "he has his key." - -"The thing we want to clear up," interrupted Mr. Warren in a kindly -tone, "is simply this. What did I say to you when you spoke to me?" - -Austin looked uncomfortable. - -"It was a gesture, sir, rather than a word. You waved your arm and I -knew what you meant." - -"You are one prize liar!" roared the inspector. "You said something -quite different when I asked you." - -"I don't see that it matters much," Austin returned acidly. "On Monday -night Mr. Warren may have said for me to go to bed. On Tuesday he may -have waved his hand impatient like. On Wednesday he may have asked for -cigars or the evening papers. I remember only that on this occasion I -was not asked for anything." He turned to his employer, "I should like -to remind you, sir, that we are giving a dinner party to-night and I -ought to be seeing after it now. Can I go, sir?" - -"You cannot," cried Inspector McWalsh, "you're under arrest!" - -"I told you he was hasty, sir," said Austin without emotion. "What for -may I ask?" - -"Let me answer him please, inspector," begged Conington Warren. "You -told the police that you saw me sitting in my library. Are you prepared -to swear to that, Austin?" - -"Certainly, sir," said the man. "You were in the big turkish rocker, -smoking one of the cigars you are smoking now and reading the Sporting -Times." - -"I'd give a thousand dollars to know who that was!" Warren commented. -"It wasn't I at all. I was dining at Voisin's at that hour." - -For the first time Austin was acutely disturbed. - -"I don't understand," he stammered. "It looked like you, sir, it did -indeed." - -"And if you'd only gone up like a man and looked in his face you'd have -seen the burglar," McWalsh said scowling. - -Austin looked at the speaker coldly. - -"It is not my business to suspect my employer of being a crook. If it's -crime to be deceived then I'm guilty. I admit I didn't look very -closely. I was sleepy and wanting to get to bed, but I did notice that -whoever it was wore a claret colored velvet smoking jacket." - -"I've a list here," said McWalsh, "given my men by the footman of the -people who called at Mr. Warren's house yesterday. Look it over and see -if you can supplement it." - -"There was one other visitor," Austin said slowly, "an intimate friend -of Mr. Warren's, but I don't know his name. I didn't admit him." - -"That's curious," said his employer. "I thought you knew every one who -was intimate enough to come to my home. What was he like?" - -"I didn't see him full face," the other admitted, "but he was tall, -about your height, but dark in coloring with a rather large nose. It -struck me he was a trifle in liquor if I may say so." - -"I don't remember any one like that," Warren asserted. - -"The gentleman," said Austin anxious to establish his point, "who bet -you ten thousand dollars that his filly could beat your Saint Beau at -five furlongs." - -"This is all damned nonsense," returned Conington Warren a little -crossly, "I'm in possession of my full senses now at all events. I made -no such wager." - -"I told you he was a crook, Mr. Warren," cried McWalsh gleefully. "See -what he's trying to put over on you now!" - -"Surely, sir," said the butler anxiously, "you remember asking a -gentleman to come into your dressing room?" - -"You're crazy," his master declared, "I asked nobody. Why should I?" - -"He was standing just inside the room as I passed by. He was very merry. -He was calling you 'Connie' like only your very intimate friends do." - -"And what was I saying?" Warren returned, impressed with the earnestness -of one in whom he believed. - -"I didn't listen, sir," the butler answered. "I was just passing along -the hall." - -"Did you hear Mr. Warren's voice?" McWalsh demanded suddenly. - -Austin reflected. - -"I wouldn't swear to it," he decided. - -"What time was it?" Warren asked. - -"A little after ten," said Austin. - -"I left the house at eight, so you are not likely to have heard me. I -was at Voisin's from half past eight until nearly one. When did you -first see this supposed friend?" - -"I was going up the main stairway as he was about to come down toward -me. Almost directly I saw him--and I didn't at the time think he saw -me--he turned back as if you had called him from your room. He said, -'What is it, Connie?' then he walked down the corridor and stood half -way in your room talking to you as I supposed. He looked like a -gentleman who might belong to your clubs, sir, and spoke like one. What -was I to think?" - -"I'm not blaming you," said Conington Warren. "I'm as puzzled as you -are. Didn't Yogotama see him when he went to my room to get my smoking -jacket which you say he wore? What was Yogotama doing to allow that sort -of thing?" - -"You forget, sir," explained Austin, "that Yogotama wasn't there." - -"Why wasn't he?" - -"Directly he got your note he went off to the camp." - -"This gets worse and worse," Warren asserted. "I sent him no note." - -"He got one in your writing apparently written on the stationery of the -Knickerbocker Club. I saw it. You told him to go instantly to your camp -and prepare it for immediate occupancy. He was to take Evans and one of -the touring cars. He got the note about half past eight." - -"Just after you'd left the house," McWalsh commented. - -"It didn't take Yogotama a half hour to prepare," added Austin. - -"What do you make of it, inspector?" Warren demanded. - -"A clever crook, that's all," said the other, "but he can't pull -anything like that in this town and get away with it." - -Austin made a polite gesture implying doubt. It incensed the official. - -"You don't think so, eh?" - -"Not from what I've seen of your methods. I've no doubt you can deal -with the common ruck of criminals, but this man is different. It may be -easy enough for a man to deceive you people by pretending to be a -gentleman but we can see through them. Frankly," said Austin growing -bolder, "I don't think you gentlemen of the police have the native wit -for the higher kind of work." - -Warren looked from one to the other of them. This was a new and -rebellious Austin, a man chafing under a personal grievance, a -belligerent butler. - -"You mustn't speak like that to Inspector McWalsh," he commanded. "He is -doing his duty." - -"That may be sir," Austin remarked, "but how would you like to be called -'Little Lancelot from Lunnon'?" - -"You look it," McWalsh said roughly. "Anyway I've no time to argue with -house servants. What you've got to do is to look through our collection -of pictures and see if you can identify any of 'em with the man you say -you saw." - -Austin surveyed the faces with open aversion. - -"He's not here," said Austin decisively. "He was not this criminal type -at all. I tell you I mistook him for a member of Mr. Warren's clubs, the -kind of gentleman who dines at the house. These," and he pointed -derisively to the pillories of crime. "You wouldn't be likely to see any -of these at our house. They are just common." - -McWalsh sneered. - -"I see. Look more like policemen I suppose?" - -Austin smiled blandly. - -"The very thing that was in my mind." - - - - -CHAPTER II - -ANTHONY TRENT TALKS ON CRIME - - -ANTHONY TRENTwas working his typewriter at top speed when there came a -sudden, peremptory knocking at his door. - -"Lord!" he grumbled, rising, "it must be old Lund to say I'm keeping him -awake." - -He threw open his door to find a small, choleric and elderly man clad in -a faded dressing gown. It was a man with a just grievance and a desire -to express it. - -"This is no time to hammer on your typewriter," said Mr. Lund fiercely. -"This is a boarding house and not a private residence. Do you realize -that you generally begin work at midnight?" - -"Come in," said Anthony Trent genially. With friendly force he dragged -the smaller man along and placed him in a morris chair. "Come in and -give me your opinion of the kind of cigar smoked by the president of the -publishing house for whose magazines I work noisily at midnight." - -Mr. Lund found himself a few seconds later sitting by an open window, an -excellent cigar between his teeth, and the lights of New York spread -before him. And he found his petulance vanishing. He wondered why it was -that although he had before this come raging to Anthony Trent's door, he -always suffered himself to be talked out of his ill humors. It was -something magnetic and engaging that surrounded this young writer of -short stories. - -"I can't smoke a cigar when I'm working," said Trent, lighting a pipe. - -"Surely," said Mr. Lund, not willing so soon to be robbed of his -grievance, "you choose the wrong hours to work. Mrs. Clarke says you -hardly ever touch your typewriter till late." - -"That's because you don't appreciate the kind of story I write," Anthony -Trent told him. "If I wrote the conventional story of love or matrimony -I could work so many hours a day and begin at nine like any business -man. But I don't. I begin to write just when the world I write of begins -to live. My men and women are waking into life now, just when the other -folks are climbing into their suburban beds." - -"I understood you wrote detective stories," Mr. Lund remarked. His -grievances were vanishing. His opinion of the president of Trent's -magazine was a high one. - -"Crook stories," Anthony Trent confided. "Not the professional doings of -thoughtless thugs. They don't interest me a tinker's curse. I like -subtlety in crime. I could take you now into the great restaurants on -Broadway or Fifth Avenue and point out to you some of the kings of -crime--men who are clever enough to protect themselves from the police. -Men who play the game as a good chess player does against a poorer one, -with the certainty of being a move ahead." - -Mr. Lund conjured up a vision of such a restaurant peopled by such a -festive crowd. He felt in that moment that an early manhood spent in -Somerville had perhaps robbed him of a chance to live. - -"They all get caught sooner or later," asserted the little man in the -morris chair. - -"Because they get careless or because they trust another. If you want to -be a successful crook, Mr. Lund, you'll have to map out your plan of -life as carefully as an athlete trains for a specific event. Now if you -went in for crime you'd have to examine your weaknesses." - -"Thank you," said Mr. Lund a little huffily, "I am not going in for a -life of crime. I am perfectly content with my own line." This, with -unconscious sarcasm for Mr. Lund, pursued what he always told the -borders was "the advertising." - -"There are degrees in crime I admit," said Anthony Trent, "but I am -perfectly serious in what I say. The ordinary crook has a low mental -capacity. He generally gets caught in the end as all such clumsy asses -should. The really big man in crime often gets caught because he is not -aware of his weaknesses. Drink often brings out an incautious boasting -side of a man. If you are going in for crime, Mr. Lund, cut out drink I -beg of you." - -"I do not need your advice," Mr. Lund returned with some dignity. "I -have tasted rum once only in my life." - -Trent looked at him interested. - -"It would probably make you want to fight," he said. - -"I don't care to think of it," said Mr. Lund. - -"And the curious part of it is," mused Trent, "that in the sort of crowd -these high class crooks mix with it is most unusual not to drink, and -the man who doesn't is almost always under suspicion. The great thing is -to be able to take your share and stop before the danger mark is -reached. Did you ever hear of Captain Despard?" - -"I think not," Lund answered. - -"A boyhood idol of mine," Anthony Trent admitted. "One of the few -gentleman crooks. Most of the so-called gentlemen criminals have been -anything but gentlemen born. Despard was. I was in Devonshire on my last -trip to the other side and I made a pilgrimage to the place where he was -born. Funny to think that a man brought up in one of the 'stately homes -of England, how beautiful they stand,' should come to what he was." - -"Woman, I suppose," said Lund, as one man of the world to another. - -"Not in the beginning," Anthony Trent answered. "He was a cavalry -officer in India--Kipling type you know--and had a craze for precious -stones. Began to collect them honestly enough and found his pay and -private fortune insufficient. He got kicked out of his regiment anyway -and went to Cape Town. One night a very large diamond was stolen from a -bedroom of the Mount Nelson hotel and he was suspected. They couldn't -prove anything, but he came over here to New York and sold it, under -another name, and with a different history, to one of the Pierpoints. -The trouble with Captain Despard was that he used to drink heavily when -he had pulled a big thing off. While he was planning a _coup_ he was -temperate and he never touched a drop while he was working." - -"Started to boast, I suppose?" Lund suggested. - -"No," said Anthony Trent. "Not that sort at all. He lived at a pretty -fair sort of club here in the forties and was well enough liked until -the drink was in him. It was then that he began to think of his former -mode of life and the kind he was now living. He used to think the other -members were trying to slight him or avoid him. He laboriously picked -quarrels with some of them. He beat up one of them in a fist fight in -the club billiard room. This fellow brooded over his licking for a long -time and then with another man, also inflamed with cocktails, went up to -Despard's room to beat him up. Despard was out, so they broke his -furniture. They found that the legs of chairs and tables had been -hollowed so as to conceal what Despard stole. It was in one of the -chairs that they found the Crediton pearls which had been missing for a -year. They waited for him and he was sent to Sing Sing but escaped. He -shot a man later in Denver and was executed. He might have been living -comfortably but for getting suspicious when he had been drinking." - -"You must have studied this thing deeply," Lund commented. - -"I have," Anthony Trent admitted; "I know the histories of most of the -great criminals and their crimes. The police do too, but I know more -than they. I make a study of the man as well as his crime. I find vanity -at the root of many failures." - -"_Cherchez la femme_," Mr. Lund insisted. - -"Not that sort of vanity," Anthony Trent corrected. "I mean the sheer -love to boast about one's abilities when other men are boasting of -theirs. There was a man called Paul Vierick, by profession a second -story man. He was short, stout and a great consumer of beer and in his -idle hours fond of bowling. He was staying in Stony Creek, Connecticut, -one summer, when a tennis ball was hit up high and lodged in a gutter -pipe on the roof. Vierick told the young man who had hit it there how to -get it. It was so dangerous looking a climb that the lad refused. Some -of the guests suggested in fun that Vierick should try. They made him -mad. He thought they were laughing at his two hundred pound look. They -were not to know that a more expert porch climber didn't exist than this -man who had been a professional trapeze man in a circus. They say he ran -up the side of that house like a monkey. Directly he had done it and -people began talking he knew he'd been unwise. He had been posing as a -retired dentist and here he was running up walls like the count in -Dracula. He moved away and presently denied the story so vehemently that -an intelligent young lawyer investigated him and he is now up the -river." - -"That's an interesting study," Mr. Lund commented. He was thoroughly -taken up with the subject. "Do you know any more instances like that?" - -"I know hundreds," Anthony Trent returned smiling. "I could keep on all -night. Your town of Somerville produced Blodgett the Strangler. You must -have heard of him?" - -"I was at school with him," Lund said almost excitedly. It was a secret -he had buried in his breast for years. Now it seemed to admit him to -something of a kinship with Anthony Trent. "He was always chasing after -women." - -"That wasn't the thing which got him. It was the desire to set right a -Harvard professor of anatomy on the subject of strangulation. Blodgett -had his own theories. You may remember he strangled his stepfather when -he was only fifteen." - -"He nearly strangled me once," Mr. Lund exclaimed. "He would have done -if I hadn't had sufficient presence of mind to bite him in the thumb." - -"Good for you," said the other heartily. "You'll find the history of -crime is full of the little mistakes that take the cleverest of them to -the chair. And yet," he mused, "it's a great life. One man pitting his -courage and knowledge against all the forces organized by society to -stamp him out. You've got to be above the average in almost every -quality to succeed if you work alone." - -Mr. Lund felt a trifle uncomfortable. The bright laughing face that had -been Anthony Trent to him had given place to a sterner cast of -countenance. The new Trent reminded him of a hawk. There was suddenly -brought to the rather timid and elderly man the impression of ruthless -strength and tireless energy. He had been a score of times in Anthony -Trent's room and had always found him amusing and light hearted. Never -until to-night had they touched upon crime. The New York over which Mr. -Lund gazed from the seat by the window no longer seemed a friendly city. -Crime and violence lurked in its every corner, he reflected. - -Mr. Lund was annoyed with himself for feeling nervous. To brace up his -courage he reverted to his former grievance. The sustaining cigar had -long ceased to give comfort. - -"I must protest at being waked up night after night by your typewriting -machine. Everybody seems to be in bed and asleep but you. I must have my -eight hours, Mr. Trent." - -Anthony Trent came to his side. - -"Everybody asleep?" he gibed. "Why, man, the shadows are alive if you'll -only look into them. And as to the night, it is never quiet. A myriad -strange sounds are blended into this stillness you call night." His -voice sank to a whisper and he took the discomfited Lund's arm. "Can you -see a woman standing there in the shadow of that tree?" - -"It might be a woman," Lund admitted guardedly. - -"It is," he was told; "she followed not ten yards behind you as you came -from the El. She's been waiting for a man and he ought to be by in a few -minutes now. She's known in every rogues' gallery in the world. Scotland -Yard knows her as Gipsey Lee, and if ever a woman deserved the chair she -does." - -"Not murder?" Lund hazarded timidly. He shivered. "It's a little cold by -the window." - -"Don't move," Anthony commanded. "You may see a tragedy unroll itself -before your eyes in a little while. She's waiting for a banker named -Pereira who looted Costa Rica. He's a big, heavy man." - -"He's coming now," Lund whispered. "I don't like this at all, Mr. -Trent." - -"He won't either," muttered the other. - -Unable to move Mr. Lund watched a tall man come toward the shadows which -hid Gipsey Lee. - -"We ought to warn him," Mr. Lund protested. - -"Not on your life," he was told. "This time it is punishment, not -murder. She saved his life and he deserted her. Pereira's pretending to -be drunk. I wonder why. He dare not touch a drop because he has Bright's -disease in the last stages." - -A minute later Mr. Lund, indignant and commanding as his inches -permitted, was shaking an angry finger at his host. - -"You've no right to frighten me," he exclaimed, "with your Gipsey Lee -and Pereira when it was only poor Mrs. Clarke waiting for that drunken -scamp of a husband who spends all he earns at the corner saloon." - -Heavy steps passed along the passage. It was Clarke making his bedward -way to his wife's verbal accompaniment. - -"You ought to be pleased to get a thrill like that for nothing," said -Anthony Trent laughing. "I'd pay good money for it." - -"I don't like it," Mr. Lund insisted. "I thought you meant it." - -"I did," the other asserted, "for the moment. New York is full of such -stories and if they don't happen in this street they happen in another. -They always happen after midnight and I've got to put them down on the -old machine. Somewhere a Gipsey Lee is waiting for a defaulting South -American banker or a Captain Despard is planning to get a priceless -stone, or a humbler Vierick plotting to climb into an inviting window, -or some one like your boyhood chum Blodgett planning to get his hands -around some one's throat." - -Anthony Trent leaned from the window and breathed in the soft night air. - -"It's a great old city," he said, half affectionately, "and I make my -living by letting my hook down into the night and drawing up a mystery. -You mustn't mind if I sometimes rattle the old Royal when better folks -are asleep." - -"If you'll take the advice of an older man," said Mr. Lund with an air -of firmness, "you'll let crook stories alone and choose something a -little healthier. Your mind is full of them." - -Still a little outraged Mr. Lund bowed himself from the room. Anthony -Trent fed his ancient briar and took the seat by the window. - -"I wonder if he's right," mused Anthony Trent. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE DAY OF TEMPTATION - - -THE dawn had long passed and the milkmen had awakened their unwilling -clients two hours agone before Anthony Trent finished his story. He was -not a quick worker. His was a mind that labored heavily unless the -details of his work were accurate. This time he was satisfied. It was a -good story and the editor for whom he was doing a series would be -pleased. He might even increase his rates. - -Crosbeigh, the editor of the magazine which sought Anthony Trent's crook -stories, was an amiable being who had won a reputation for profundity by -reason of eloquent silences. He would have done well in any line of work -where originality was not desired. He knew, from what his circulation -manager told him, that Trent's stories made circulation and he liked the -writer apart from his work. Perhaps because he was not a disappointed -author he was free from certain editorial prejudices. - -"Sit down," he cried cordially, when Anthony Trent was shown in. "Take a -cigarette and I'll read this right away." Crosbeigh was a nervous man -who battled daily with subway crowds and was apt to be irritable. - -"It's great," he said when he had finished it, "Great! Doyle, Hornung, -well--there you are!" It was one of his moments of silent eloquence. -The listener might have inferred anything. - -"But they are paid real money," replied Anthony Trent gloomily. - -"You get two cents a word," Crosbeigh reminded him, "you haven't a wife -and children to support." - -"I'd be a gay little adventurer to try it on what I make at writing," -Trent told him. "It takes me almost a month to write one of those yarns -and I get a hundred and fifty each." - -"You are a slow worker," his editor declared. - -"I have to be," he retorted. "If I were writing love slush and pretty -heroine stuff it would be different. Do you know, Crosbeigh, there isn't -a thing in these stories of mine that is impossible? I take the most -particular care that my details are correct. When I began I didn't know -anything about burglar alarms. What did I do? I got a job in the shop -that makes the best known one. I'm worth more than two cents a word!" - -"That's our maximum," Crosbeigh asserted. "These are not good days for -the magazine business. Shot to pieces. If I said what I knew. If you -knew what _I_ got and how much I had to do with it!" - -Anthony Trent looked at him critically. He saw a very carefully dressed -Crosbeigh to-day, a man whose trousers were pressed, whose shoes were -shined, who exuded prosperity. Never had he seen him so apparently -affluent. - -"Come into money?" he enquired. "Whence the prosperity? Whose wardrobe -have you robbed?" - -"These are my own clothes," returned Crosbeigh with dignity, "at least -leave me my clothes." - -"Sure," said Trent amiably, "if I took 'em you'd be arrested. But tell -me why this sartorial display. Are you going to be photographed for the -'great editors' series?" - -"I'm lunching with an old friend," Crosbeigh answered, "a man of -affairs, a man of millions, a man about whom I could say many things." - -"Say them," his contributor demanded, "let me in on a man for whom you -have arrayed yourself in all your glory. Who is your friend? Is she -pretty? I don't believe it's a man at all." - -"It's a man I know and respect," he said, a trifle nettled at the -comments his apparel had drawn. "It's the man who takes me every year to -the Yale-Harvard boat race." - -"Your annual jag party? He's no fit company for a respectable editor." - -"It is college spirit," Crosbeigh explained. - -"You can call it by any name but it's too strong for you. What is the -name of your honored friend?" - -"Conington Warren," Crosbeigh said proudly. - -"That's the millionaire sportsman with the stable of steeple-chasers, -isn't it?" Trent demanded. - -"He wins all the big races," Crosbeigh elaborated. - -"He's enormously rich, splendidly generous, has everything. Only one -thing--drink." Crosbeigh fell into silence. - -"You've led him astray you mean?" The spectacle of the sober editor -consorting with reckless bloods of the Conington Warren type amused -Trent. - -"Same year at college," Crosbeigh explained, "and he has always been -friendly. God knows why," the editor said gloomily. The difference in -their lot seemed suddenly to appal him. - -"There must be something unsuspectedly bad in your make-up," Trent -declared, "which attracts him to you. It can't be he wants to sell you a -story." - -"There are all sorts of rumors about him," Crosbeigh went on -meditatively, "started by his wife's people, I believe. He was wild. -Sometimes he has hinted at it. I know him well enough to call him -'Connie' and go up to his dressing-room sometimes. That's a mark of -intimacy. My Lord, Trent, but it makes me envious to see with what -luxury the rich can live. He has a Japanese valet and masseur, Togoyama, -and an imported butler who looks like a bishop. They know him at his -worst and worship him. He's magnetic, that's what Connie is, magnetic. -Have you ever thought what having a million a year means?" - -"Ye Gods," groaned Trent, "don't you read my lamentations in every story -you buy from me at bargain rates?" - -"And a shooting box in Scotland which he uses two weeks a year in the -grouse season. A great Tudor residence in Devonshire overlooking Exmoor, -a town house in Park Lane which is London's Fifth Avenue! And you know -what he's got here in his own country. Can you imagine it?" - -"Not on forty dollars a week," said Anthony Trent gloomily. - -"You'd make more if you were the hero of your own stories," Crosbeigh -told him. - -Anthony Trent turned on him quickly, "What do you mean?" - -"Why this crook you are making famous gets away with enough plunder to -live as well as Conington Warren." - -"Ah, but that's in a story," returned the author. - -"Then you mean they aren't as exact and possible as you've been telling -me?" - -"They are what I said they were," their author declared. "They could be -worked out, with ordinary luck, by any man with an active body, good -education and address. The typical thick-witted criminal wouldn't have a -chance." - -It was a curious thing, thought Anthony Trent, that Crosbeigh should -mention the very thing that had been running in his mind for weeks. To -live in such an elaborate manner as Conington Warren was not his -ambition. The squandering of large sums of money on stage favorites of -the moment was not to his taste; but he wanted certainly more than he -was earning. Trent had a passion for fishing, golf and music. Not the -fishing that may be indulged in on Sunday and week-day on fishing -steamers, making excursions to the banks where one may lose an ear on -another angler's far flung hook, but the fly fishing where the gallant -trout has a chance to escape, the highest type of fishing that may -appeal to man. - -And his ambitions to lower his golf handicap until it should be scratch -could not well be accomplished by his weekly visit to Van Cortlandt -Park. He wished to be able to join Garden City or Baltusrol and play a -round a day in fast company. And this could not be accomplished on what -he was making. - -And as to music, he longed to compose an opera. It was a laudable -ambition and would commence, he told himself, with a grand piano. He had -only a hard-mouthed hired upright so far. Sometimes he had seen himself -in the role of his hero amply able to indulge himself in his moderate -ambitions. It was of this he had been thinking when Mr. Lund came to his -room. And now the very editor for whom he had created his characters was -making the suggestion. - -"I was only joking," Crosbeigh assured him. - -"It is not a good thing to joke about," Anthony Trent answered, "and an -honest man at forty a week is better than an outlaw with four hundred." - -He made this remark to set his thoughts in less dangerous channels, but -it sounded dreadfully hollow and false. He half expected that Crosbeigh -would laugh aloud at such a hackneyed sentiment, but Crosbeigh looked -grave and earnest. "Very true," he answered. "A man couldn't think of -it." - -"And why not?" Anthony Trent demanded; "would the fictional character I -created do as much harm to humanity as some cotton mill owner who -enslaved little children and gave millions to charity?" - -A telephone call relieved Crosbeigh of the need to answer. Trent swept -into his brief case the carbon copy of his story which he had brought by -mistake. - -"Where are you going?" the editor demanded. - -"Van Cortlandt," the contributor answered; "I'm going to try and get my -drive back. I've been slicing for a month." - -"Conington Warren has a private eighteen-hole course on his Long Island -place," Crosbeigh said with pride. "I've been invited to play." - -"You're bent on driving me to a life of crime," Trent exclaimed -frowning. "An eighteen-hole private course while I struggle to get a -permit for a public one!" - -But Anthony Trent did not play golf that afternoon at Van Cortlandt -Park. As a matter of fact he never again invaded that popular field of -play. - -Outside Crosbeigh's office he was hailed by an old Dartmouth chum, one -Horace Weems. - -"Just in time for lunch," said Weems wringing his hand. Weems had always -admired Anthony Trent and had it been possible would have remodeled -himself physically and mentally in the form of another Trent. Weems was -short, blond and perspired profusely. - -"Hello, Tubby," said Trent without much cordiality, "you look as though -the world had been treating you right." - -"It has," said Weems happily. "Steel went to a hundred and twelve last -week and it carried me up with it." - -Weems had been, as Trent remembered, a bond salesman. Weems could sell -anything. He had an ingratiating manner and a disability to perceive -snubs or insults when intent on making sales. He had paid his way -through college by selling books. Trent had been a frequent victim. - -"What do you want to sell me this time?" he demanded. - -"Nothing," Weems retorted, "I'm going to buy you the best little lunch -that Manhattan has to offer. Anywhere you say and anything you like to -eat and drink." Weems stopped a cruising taxi. "Hop in, old scout, and -tell the pirate where to go." - -Trent directed the man to one of the three famous and more or less -exclusive restaurants New York possesses. - -"I hope you have the price," he commented, "otherwise I shall have to -cash a check I've just received for a story." - -"Keep your old check," jeered Weems, "I'm full of money. Why, boy, I own -an estate and have a twelve-cylinder car of my own." - -Over the luncheon Horace Weems babbled cheerfully. He had made over -three hundred thousand dollars and was on his way to millionairedom. - -"You ought to see my place up in Maine," he said presently. - -"Maine?" queried his guest. It was in Maine that Anthony Trent, were he -fortunate enough, would one day erect a camp. "Where?" - -"On Kennebago lake," Weems told him and stopped when an expression of -pain crossed the other's face. "What's the matter? That sauce wrong?" - -"Just sheer envy," Trent admitted, "you've got what I want. I know every -camp on the Lake. Which is it?" - -"The Stanley place," said Weems. "The finest camp on the whole Lake. I -bought it furnished and it's some furniture believe me. There's a grand -piano--that would please you--and pictures that are worth thousands, one -of 'em by some one named Constable. Ever hear of him?" - -"Yes," Trent grunted, "I have. Fancy you with a Constable and a grand -piano when you don't know one school of painting from another and think -the phonograph the only instrument worth listening to!" - -"I earned it," Weems said, a little huffily. "Why don't you make money -instead of getting mad because I do?" - -"Because I haven't your ability, I suppose," Trent admitted. "It's a -gift and the gods forgot me." - -"Some of the boys used to look down on me," said Weems, "but all I ask -is 'where is little Horace to-day?' This money making game is the only -thing that counts, believe me. Up in Hanover I wasn't one, two, three, -compared with you. Your father was well off and mine hadn't a nickel. -You graduated _magna cum laude_ and I had to work like a horse to slide -by. You were popular because you made the football team and could sing -and play." Weems paused reflectively, "I never did hear any one who -could mimic like you. You should have taken it up and gone into -vaudeville. How much do you make a week?" - -"Forty--with luck." - -"I give that to my chauffeur and I'm not rich yet. But I shall be. I'm -out to be as rich as that fellow over there." - -He pointed to a rather high colored extremely well dressed man about -town to whom the waiters were paying extreme deference. - -"That's Conington Warren," Weems said with admiration in his voice, -"he's worth a million per annum." - -Anthony Trent turned to look at him. There was no doubt that Conington -Warren was a personage. Just now he was engaged in an argument with the -head waiter concerning _Chateau Y'Quem_. Trent noticed his gesture of -dismissal when he had finished. It was an imperious wave of his hand. It -was his final remark as it were. - -"Some spender," Weems commented. "Who's the funny old dodger with him? -Some other millionaire I suppose." - -"I'll tell him that next time I see him," laughed Trent beholding -Crosbeigh, Crosbeigh who looked wise where vintages were discussed and -knew not one from another. A well-dressed man paused at Warren's side -and Weems, always anxious to acquire information, begged his guest to be -silent. - -"Did you get that?" he asked when the man had moved away. - -"I don't make it a habit to listen to private conversations," Trent -returned stiffly. - -"Well I do," said Weems unabashed. "If I hadn't I shouldn't have got in -on this Steel stuff. I'm a great little listener. That fellow who spoke -is Reginald Camplyn, the man who drives a coach and four and wins blue -ribbons at the horse show. Warren asked him to a dinner here to-morrow -night at half past eight in honor of some horse who's done a fast -trial." Weems made an entry in his engagement book. - -"Are you going, too?" Trent demanded. - -"I'm putting down the plug's name," said Weems, "Sambo," he said. -"That's no name for a thoroughbred. Say couldn't you introduce me?" - -"I don't know him," Trent asserted. - -"You know the man with him. That's enough for me. If you do it right the -other fellow's bound to introduce you. Then you beckon me over and we'll -all sit down together." - -"That isn't my way of doing things," replied Trent with a frown. - -Weems made a gesture of despair and resignation. - -"That's why you'll always be poor. That's why you'll never have a grand -piano and a Constable and a swell place up in Maine." - -Anthony Trent looked at him and smiled. - -"There may be other ways," he said slowly. - -"You try 'em," Weems retorted crossly. "Here you are almost thirty years -old, highly educated, prep school and college and you make a week what I -give my chauffeur." - -"I think I will," Trent answered. - -Weems attacked his salad angrily. If only Trent had been what he termed -aggressive, an introduction could easily have been effected. Then Weems -would have seen to it that he and Warren left the restaurant together. -Some one would be bound to see them. Then, for Weems had an expansive -fancy, it would be rumored that he, Horace Weems, who cleaned up on -Steel, was friendly with the great Conington Warren. It might lead to -anything! - -"Well," he commented, "I'd rather be little Horace Weems, who can't tell -a phonograph from a grand piano than Mr. Anthony Trent, who makes with -luck two thousand a year." - -"I'm in bad company to-day," replied Trent. "First Crosbeigh and now you -tempting me. You know very well I haven't that magic money making -ability you have. My father hadn't it or he would have left money when -he died and not debts." - -"Magic!" Weems snorted. "Common sense, that's what it is." - -"It's magic," the other insisted, "as a boy you exchanged a jack knife -for a fishing pole and the fishing pole for a camera and the camera for -a phonograph and the phonograph for a canoe and the canoe for a sailing -boat and so on till you've got your place in Maine and a chauffeur who -makes more than I do! Magic's the only name for it." - -"You must come up and see me in Maine," Weems said, later. - -"Make your mind easy," Trent assured him, "I will." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -BEGINNING THE GAME - - -WHEN he left Weems, it was too late to start a round of golf so Trent -took his homeward way intent on starting another story. Crosbeigh was -always urging him to turn out more of them. - -His boarding house room seemed shabbier than ever. The rug, which had -never been a good one, showed its age. The steel engravings on the wall -were offensive. "And Weems," he thought, "owns a Constable!" - -His upright piano sounded thinner to his touch. "And Weems," he sighed, -"has been able to buy a grand." - -Up from the kitchen the triumphant smell of a "boiled New England -dinner" sought out every corner of the house. High above all the varied -odors, cabbage was king. The prospect of the dinner table was appalling, -with Mr. Lund, distant and ready to quarrel over any infringement of his -rights or curtailment of his portion. Mrs. Clarke ready to resent any -jest as to her lord's habits. The landlady eager to give battle to such -as sniffed at what her kitchen had to offer. Wearisome banter between -brainless boarders tending mainly to criticism of moving picture -productions and speculations as to the salaries of the stars. Not a soul -there who had ever heard of William Blake or Ravel! Overdressed girls -who were permanently annoyed with Anthony Trent because he would never -take them to ice-cream parlors. Each new boarder as she came set her cap -for him and he remained courteous but disinterested. - -One of the epics of Mrs. Sauer's boarding house was that night when Miss -Margaret Rafferty, incensed at the coldness with which her advances were -received and the jeers of her girl friends, brought as a dinner guest a -former sweetheart, now enthusiastically patrolling city sidewalks as a -guardian of the peace. It was not difficult to inflame McGuire. He -disliked Anthony Trent on sight and exercised an untrammeled wit during -the dinner at his expense. It was afterwards in the little garden where -the men went to smoke an after dinner cigar that the unforgivable phrase -was passed. - -McGuire was just able to walk home. He had met an antagonist who was a -lightning hitter, whose footwork was quick and who boxed admirably and -kept his head. - -After this a greater meed of courtesy was accorded the writer of -stories. But the bibulous Clarke alone amused him, Clarke who had been -city editor of a great daily when Trent was a police reporter on it, and -was now a Park Row derelict supported by the generosity of his old -friends and acquaintances. Only Mrs. Clarke knew that Anthony Trent on -numerous occasions gave her a little money each week until that day in -the Greek kalends when her husband would find another position. - -Anthony Trent settled himself at his typewriter and began looking over -the carbon copy of the story he had just sold to Crosbeigh. He wished -to assure himself of certain details in it. Among the pages was an -envelope with the name of a celebrated Fifth Avenue club embossed upon -it. Written on it in pencil was Crosbeigh's name. Unquestionably he had -swept it from the editorial desk when he had taken up the carbon copy of -his story. - -Opening it he found a note written in a rather cramped and angular hand. -The stationery was of the Fifth Avenue club. The signature was -unmistakable, "Conington Warren." Trent read: - - "My dear Crosbeigh: - - "I am sending this note by Togoyama because I want to be sure that - you will lunch with me at Voisin's to-morrow at one o'clock. I wish - affairs permitted me to see more of my old Yale comrades but I am - enormously busy. By the way, a little friend of mine thinks she can - write. I don't suppose she can, but I promised to show her efforts - to you. I'm no judge but it seems to me her work is very much the - kind you publish in your magazine. We will talk it over to-morrow. - Of course she cares nothing about what you would pay her. She wants - to see her name in print. - - "Yours ever, - - "CONINGTON WARREN." - -Trent picked up an eraser and passed it over the name on the envelope. -It had been written with a soft pencil and was easily swept away. - -Over the body of the letter he spent a long time. He copied it exactly. -A stranger would have sworn that the copy had been written by the same -hand which indited the original. And when this copy had been made to -Trent's satisfaction, he carefully erased everything in the original but -the signature. Then remembering Weems' description of the Conington -Warren camp in the Adirondacks, he wrote a little note to one Togoyama. - -It was five when he had finished. There was no indecision about him. -Twenty minutes later he was at the Public Library consulting a large -volume in which were a hundred of the best known residences in New York. -So conscientious was the writer that there were plans of every floor and -in many instances descriptions of their interior decoration. Anthony -Trent chuckled to think of the difficulties with which the unlettered -crook has to contend. "Chicago Ed. Binner," for example, had married -half a hundred servant maids to obtain information as to the disposition -of rooms that he could have obtained by the mere consultation of such a -book as this. - -It was while Mrs. Sauer's wards were finishing their boiled dinner that -some of them had a glimpse of Anthony Trent in evening dress descending -the stairs. - -"Dinner not good enough for his nibs," commented one boarder seeking to -curry the Sauer favor. - -"I'd rather have my boarders pay and not eat than eat and not pay," said -Mrs. Sauer grimly. It was three weeks since she had received a dollar -from the speaker. - -"Drink," exclaimed Mr. Clarke, suddenly roused from meditation of a day -now dead when a highball could be purchased for fifteen cents. "This -food shortage now. That could be settled easily. Take the tax off -liquor and people wouldn't want to eat so much. It's the high cost of -drinking that's the trouble. What's the use of calling ourselves a free -people? I tell you it was keeping vodka from the Russians that caused -the whole trouble. Don't argue with me. I know." - -Mr. Clarke went from the dinner table to his bed and awoke around -midnight possessed with the seven demons of unsatiated thirst. He -determined to go down and call upon Anthony Trent. He would plead for -enough money to go to the druggist and get his wife's prescription -filled. Trent, good lad that he was, always fell for it. And, he argued, -it was a friendly act to do, this midnight call on a hard working young -writer who had once been at his command. - -For the first time Anthony Trent's door was locked. And the voice that -snapped out an interrogation was different from the leisurely and -amiable invitation to enter which was usual. The door was suddenly flung -open, so sudden that poor Clarke was startled. And facing him, his fists -clenched and a certain tensity of attitude that was a strange one to the -visitor, was Anthony Trent still in evening dress. Clarke construed it -into an expression of resentment at his intrusion. He could not -understand the sudden affability that took possession of his former -reporter. - -"Come in, Mr. Clarke," said Trent cordially. "I am sorry your wife's -heart is troubling her but I agree with you that you should rush with -all haste to the nearby druggist and have that prescription filled. And -as the man who owes you money did not pay you to-day as he promised, but -will without fail to-morrow at midday, take this five dollar bill with -my blessing." - -"How did you know?" gasped Clarke. - -"I am a mind reader," Trent retorted. "It saves time." He led Mr. Clarke -gently to the door. "Now I'm tired and want to go to sleep so don't call -in on your way back with the change. Just trot up to bed as quietly as -you can." - -When the door was locked and a chair-back wedged against the handle, -Trent lowered the shades. Then he cleared his table of the litter of -paper. A half dozen pages of the first draft of his new story held his -attention for a few seconds. Then he deliberately tore the pages into -little fragments, threw them into the waste paper basket. And to this -cenotaph he added the contents of the table drawer, made up of notes for -future stories, the results of weeks of labor. - -"Dust to dust," he murmured, "ashes to ashes!" - -It was the end of the career of Anthony Trent, writer. - -And on the table which had formerly held only writing paper a quaint -miscellany was placed. Eight scarf pins, each holding in golden claws -stones of price. Apparently Conington Warren had about him only what was -good. And there was a heavy platinum ring with a ruby of not less than -four carats, a lady's ring. It would not be difficult for a man so -clever with his hands and apt mechanically to remove these jewels from -their setting. Nor was there any difficulty in melting the precious -metals. - -It seemed to Trent that he had gloated over these glistening stones for -hours before he put them away. - -Then he took out a roll of bills and counted them. Conington Warren, it -seemed, must have had considerable faith in the excellent Togoyama now -hurrying to the Adirondack camp, for he had left three thousand dollars -in the upper left hand drawer of a Sheraton desk. - -Morning was coming down the skies when Trent, now in dressing gown, -lighted his pipe and sat down by the window. - -"Well," he muttered softly, "I've done it and there's no going back. -Yesterday I was what people call an honest man. Now----?" - -He shrugged his shoulders and puffed quickly. Out of the window grey -clouds of smoke rose as fragrant incense. - -He had never meant to take up a career of crime. Looking back he could -see how little things coming together had provoked in him an insatiable -desire for an easier life. In all his personal dealings heretofore, he -had been scrupulously honest, and there had never been any reflection on -his honor as a sportsman. He had played games for their own sake. He had -won without bragging and lost with excuses. Up in Hanover there were -still left those who chanted his praise. What would people think of him -if he were placed in the dock as a criminal? - -His own people were dead. There were distant cousins in Cleveland, whom -he hardly remembered. There was no family honor to trail in the dust, no -mother or sweetheart to blame him for a broken heart. - -He stirred uneasily as he thought of the possibility of capture. Even -now those might be on his trail who would arrest him. It would be -ironical if, before he tasted the fruits of leisure, he were taken to -prison--perhaps by Officer McGuire! It had all been so absurdly easy. -Within a few minutes of receiving the forged note the Japanese was on -his way to the mountains. - -The bishop-like butler who adored his master according to Crosbeigh, had -seemed utterly without suspicion when he passed Trent engaged in -animated converse with his supposed employer. The bad moment was when -the man had come into the library where the intruder was hiding himself -and stood there waiting for an answer to his question. Trent had seen to -it that the light was low. It was a moment of inspiration when he called -to mind Conington Warren's imperious gesture as he waved away Voisin's -head waiter, and another which had made him put on the velvet smoking -jacket. And it had all come out without a hitch. But he was playing a -game now when he could never be certain he was not outguessed. It might -be the suave butler was outside in the shadows guiding police to the -capture. - -He looked out of the window and down the silent street. There was indeed -a man outside and looking up at him. But it was only poor Clarke whose -own prescription had been too well filled. He had captured, so he -fancied, an errant lamppost wantonly disporting itself. - -Anthony Trent looked at him with a relief in which disgust had its part. -He swore, by all the high gods, never to sink to that level. A curious -turn of mind, perhaps, for a burglar to take. But so far the sporting -simile presented itself to him. It was a game, a big game in which he -took bigger risks than any one else. He was going to pit his wit, -strength and knowledge against society as it was organized. - -"I don't see why I can't play it decently," he said to himself as he -climbed into bed. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -ANTHONY PULLS UP STAKES - - -WHEN those two great Australians, Norman Brooks and Anthony Wilding, had -played their brilliant tennis in America, Trent had been a close -follower of their play. He had interviewed them for his paper. In those -days he himself was a respectable performer at the game. Brooks had -given him one of his own rackets which was no longer in first class -condition. It was especially made for the Australian by a firm in -Melbourne. So pleased was Trent with it that he, later, sent to -Australia for two more. It happened that the manager of the sporting -goods store in Melbourne was a young American who believed in the -efficacy of "follow up" letters. It was a large and prosperous firm and -it followed up Anthony Trent with thoroughness. He received square -envelopes addressed by hand by every third Australian mail. - -Mrs. Sauer's boarders, being of that kind which interests itself in -others' affairs and discusses them, were intrigued at these frequent -missives from the Antipodes. - -Finally Trent invented an Uncle Samuel who had, so he affirmed, left his -native land when an adventurous child of nine and made a great fortune -among the Calgoorlie gold fields. Possessing a nimble wit he related to -his fellow boarders amazing accounts of his uncle's activities. The -boarders often discussed this uncle, his strange dislike of women, the -beard which fell to his knees, the team of racing kangaroos which drew -his buggy, and so forth. - -At the breakfast table on the morning when Anthony Trent faced his world -no longer an honest man, it was observed that he was disinclined to -talk. As a matter of fact he wanted a reasonable excuse for leaving the -Sauer establishment. The woman had been kind and considerate to him and -he had few grievances. - -The mail brought him an enticing letter from Melbourne offering him all -that the tennis player needs, at special prices. - -"I trust your uncle is well," Mrs. Clarke observed. - -It was in that moment Trent got his inspiration. - -"I'm afraid he is very ill," he said sadly, "at his age--he must be -almost ninety----" - -"Only eighty-four," Mrs. Clarke reminded him. She remembered the year of -his emigration. - -"Eighty-four is a great age to attain," he declared, "and he has lived -not wisely but well. I feel I should go out and see if there's anything -I can do." - -"You are going to leave us?" gasped Mrs. Sauer. His going would deprive -her of a most satisfactory lodger. - -"I'm afraid my duty is plain," he returned gravely. - -Thus he left Mrs. Sauer's establishment. Years later he wondered whether -if he had enjoyed better cooking he would have fallen from grace, and if -he could not with justice blame a New England boiled dinner for his -lapse. - -For a few days he stayed at a quiet hotel. He wanted a small apartment -on Central Park. There were reasons for this. First, he must live alone -in a house where no officious elevator boys observed his going and his -coming. Central Park West offered many such houses. And if it should -happen that he ever had to flee from the pursuit of those who guarded -the mansions that faced him on the park's eastern side, there was no -safer way home than across the silent grass. He was one of those New -Yorkers who know their Central Park. There had been a season when a -friend gave him the use of a saddle horse and there was no bridle path -that he did not know. - -He was fortunate in finding rooms at the top of a fine old brownstone -house in the eighties. There were four large rooms all overlooking the -Park. That he was compelled to climb five flights of stairs was no -objection in his eyes. A little door to the left of his own entrance -gave admission to a ladder leading to the roof. None of the other -tenants, so the agent informed him, ever used it. Anthony Trent was -relieved to hear it. - -"I sleep badly," he said, "possibly because I read a great deal and am -anxious to try open air sleeping. If I might have the right to use the -roof for that I should be very willing to pay extra." - -"Glad to have you there," said the agent heartily, "you'll be a sort of -night watchman for the property." He laughed at his jest. "Insomnia is -plain hell, ain't it? I used to suffer that way. I walk a great deal now -and that cures me. Do you take drugs?" - -"I'm afraid of them," Anthony Trent declared. "I walk a good deal at -night when the streets are quiet." - -The agent reported to his office that Trent was a studious man who slept -badly and wanted to sleep on the roof; also that he took long tramps at -night. A good tenant, in fine. Thus he spread abroad the report which -Trent desired. - -The selection of a housekeeper was of extreme importance. She must be an -elderly, quiet body without callers or city relatives. Her references -must be examined thoroughly. He interviewed a score of women before he -found what he wanted. She was a Mrs. Phoebe Kinney from Agawam, a -village overlooking Buzzard's Bay. A widow, childless and friendless, -she had occupied similar positions in Massachusetts but this would be -the first one in New York. He observed in his talk with her that she -conceived the metropolis to be the world center of wickedness. She -assured her future employer that she kept herself to herself because she -could never be certain that the man or woman who addressed a friendly -remark to her might not be a criminal. - -"Keep that attitude and we two shall agree splendidly," he said. "I have -few friends and no callers. I am of a studious disposition and cannot -bear interruptions. If you had friends in New York I should not hire -you. I sometimes keep irregular hours but I shall expect to find you -there all the time. You can have two weeks in the summer if you want -them." - -Next day Mrs. Kinney was inducted to her new home. It was a happy choice -for she cooked well and had the New England passion for cleanliness. -Trent noticed with pleasure that she was even suspicious of the -tradespeople who sent their wares up the dumb waiter. And she -discouraged their gossip who sold meat and bread to her. The many papers -he took were searched for their crimes by Mrs. Kinney. Discovery of such -records affirmed her in her belief of the city's depravity. - -In his examination of her former positions Trent discovered that she had -been housekeeper to the Clent Bulstrodes. He knew they were a fine, old -Boston family of Back Bay, with a mansion on Beacon street. When he -questioned her about it she told him it was as housekeeper of their -summer home on Buzzards' Bay. Young Graham Bulstrode had been a tennis -player of note years before. Many a time Anthony Trent had seen him at -Longwood. He had dropped out because he drank too much to keep fit. The -two were of an age. Mrs. Kinney related the history of the Bulstrode -family at length and concluded by remarking that when she first saw her -employer at the agency she was reminded of Mr. Graham. "But he looks -terrible now," she added, "they say he drinks brandy before breakfast!" - -The next day the society columns of the _Herald_ informed him that the -Clent Bulstrodes had bought a New York residence in East 73d street, -just off the Avenue. This information was of peculiar interest to Trent. -Now he was definitely engaged in a precarious profession he was -determined to make a success of it. He had smoked innumerable pipes in -tabulating those accidents which brought most criminals to sentence. He -believed in the majority of cases they had not the address to get away -with plausible excuses. It was an ancient and frayed excuse, that of -pretending to be sent to read the water or electric meter. And besides, -it was not Trent's intention to take to disguises of this sort. - -He was now engaged in working out the solution of his second adventure. -He was to make an attempt upon the house of William Drummond, banker, -who lived in 93rd street and in the same number as did the Clent -Bulstrodes, twenty blocks to the south. He had learned a great deal -about Drummond from Clarke, his one-time city editor. Clarke remembered -most of the interesting things about the big men of his day. He told -Trent that Drummond invariably carried a great deal of money on his -person. He expatiated on the Drummond history. This William Drummond had -begun life on an Iowa farm. He had gradually saved a little money and -then lent it at extravagant interest. Later he specialized on mortgages, -foreclosing directly he knew his client unable to meet his notes. His -type was a familiar one and had founded many fortunes. Clarke painted -him as a singularly detestable creature. - -"But why," demanded Anthony Trent, "does a man like that risk his money -if he's so keen on conserving it? One would think he wouldn't take out -more than his car fare for fearing either of being robbed or borrowed -from." - -"As for robbing," Clarke returned, "he's a great husky beast although -he's nearly sixty. And as to being borrowed from, that's why he takes it -out. He belongs to a lot of clubs--not the Knickerbocker type--but the -sort of clubs where rich young fellows go to play poker. They know old -Drummond can lend 'em the ready cash without any formalities any time -they wish it. Ever sit in a poker game, son, and get a hunch that if -you were able to buy just one more pile of chips you'd clean up?" - -"I have," said the other smiling, "but my hunch has generally been -wrong." - -"Most hunches are," Clarke commented. "Theirs are, too, but that old -scoundrel makes thousands out of just such hunches. He puts it up to the -borrower that it's between club members and so forth, not a money -lending transaction. Tells 'em he doesn't lend money as a rule, and so -forth and so on. I know he was asked to resign from one club for it. -He's a bloodsucker and if I had an automobile I'd watch for him to cross -the street and then run him down." - -"Has he ever stung you?" Trent asked. - -"Me? Not on your life. He specializes in rich men's sons. He wouldn't -lend you or me a nickel if we were starving. You remember young Hodgson -Grant who committed suicide last year. They said it was the heat that -got him. It was William Drummond." - -"Why does he keep up a house on such a street as he does? I should think -he'd live cheaper." - -"A young second wife. Threw the old one away, so to speak, and got a -high stepper that makes him speed up. She thinks she will get into -society. Not a chance, son, not a chance. I know." - -It was on some of William Drummond's money that Anthony Trent had set -his heart. It salved what was still a conscience to know that he was -taking back profits unlawfully made, bleeding a blood sucker. - -Owing to the second Mrs. Drummond's desire to storm society she -cultivated publicity. There were pictures of herself and her prize -winning Red Chows in dog papers. In other magazines she was seen -driving her two high stepping hackneys, Lord Ping and Lady Pong, at the -Mineola Horse Show. Also, there was an article on her home in a magazine -devoted to interior decoration. A careful study of it answered every -question concerning its lay-out that the most careful cracksman needed -to know. Trent spent a week in learning how Drummond occupied his time. -The banker invariably left his most profitable club at midnight, never -earlier. By half past twelve he was in his library smoking one of the -cigars that had been given him that night. Then a drink of gin and -water. Afterwards, bed. The house was protected by the Sherlock system -of burglar alarm, a tiresome invention to those who were ignorant of it. -Anthony Trent regarded it as an enemy and had mastered it successfully -for there were tricks of lock opening not hard to one as mechanically -able as he and many a criminal had talked to him openly when he had -covered police headquarters years before. - -Drummond drank very little. When asked he invariably took a cigar. He -was possessed of great strength and still patronized the club gymnasium. -For two hours one night Drummond sat near him at a certain famous -athletic club. On that night there were certain changes to be observed -in the appearance of Anthony Trent. He seemed to have put on twenty -pounds in weight and ten years in age. The art of make-up which had been -forced upon him in college theatricals had recently engaged his -attention. It was an art of which he had thought little until for his -paper he had once interviewed Beerbohm Tree and had seen the amazing -changes skilful make-up may create. - -Ordinarily he slipped in and out silently, not encouraging Mrs. Kinney -to talk. On this particular night he asked her a question concerning a -missing letter and she came out into the lighted hall. - -"You gave me quite a shock," she said. "You look as like Mr. Graham -Bulstrode as one pea is like another, although I've never seen him in -full evening dress." - -She was plainly impressed by her employer's magnificence although she -feared this unusual flush on his ordinarily pale face meant that he had -been having more to drink than was good for him. - -It was the tribute for which Trent had waited. If Mrs. Kinney had never -seen the son of her former master in the garb of fashion, her present -employer had, and that within the week. And he had observed him -carefully. He had seen that Bulstrode was wearing during the nights of -late Autumn an Inverness cape of light-weight black cloth, lined with -white silk. To Trent it seemed rather stagey but that did not prevent -him from ordering its duplicate from Bulstrode's tailor. Bulstrode clung -to the opera hat rather than to the silk hat which has almost superseded -it. To-night Trent wore an opera hat. - -Bulstrode came into the athletic club at half past eleven. He was -slightly under the influence of liquor and his face no redder than that -of Trent who waited across the street in the shadow of the Park wall. No -sooner had Bulstrode been whirled off in a taxi than Anthony Trent went -into the club. To the attendants it seemed that he had returned for -something forgotten. With his Inverness still on and his hat folded he -lost himself in the crowded rooms and found at last William Drummond. -The banker nodded cordially. It was evident to the impostor that the -banker wished to ingratiate himself with the new member. The Bulstrodes -had enormous wealth and a name that was recognized. To his greeting -Anthony Trent returned a solemn owl-like stare. "Shylock!" he hiccoughed -insolently. - -Drummond flushed but said nothing. Indeed he looked about him to see if -the insult had been overheard by any other member. Inwardly Trent -chuckled. He had now no fear of being discovered. Bulstrode probably -knew few men at the club. He had not been in town as a resident for a -month yet. He sank into a chair and read an evening paper watching in -reality the man Drummond. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -FOOLING SHYLOCK DRUMMOND - - -THE night that he entered Drummond's house was slightly foggy and -visibility was low. He was dressed as he had been when he encountered -Drummond at the club. He had seen the banker climb the five steps to his -front door at half past twelve. At half past one the lights were -switched off in the bedroom on the second floor. At two the door gently -opened and admitted Anthony Trent. He left it unlocked and ready for -flight. And he memorized the position of the furniture so that hasty -flight would be possible. - -It was not a big house. The articles of furniture, the pictures, rugs -and hangings were splendid. The interior decorators had taken care of -that. But he had seen them all in the magazine. Trent knew very well -that to obtain such prizes as he sought could not be a matter of -certainty. Somewhere in this house was a lot of currency. And it might -be in a safe. Old fashioned safes presented few difficulties, but your -modern strong box is a different matter. Criminal investigator as he -was, he knew one man seldom attempted to dynamite a safe. It was a -matter for several men. In itself the technique was not difficult but he -had no accomplices and at best it is a matter better fitted for offices -in the night silences than a private residence. - -He had been told by criminals that it was astonishing how careless rich -men were with their money. Anthony Trent proposed to test this. He had -made only a noiseless progress on a half dozen stairs on his upward -flight when a door suddenly opened, flooding the stairway with light. It -was from a room above him. And there were steps coming along a corridor -toward him. Feeling certain that the reception rooms leading off the -entrance hall were empty, he swiftly opened a door and stepped backward -into the room, watching intently to see that he had escaped the -observation of some one descending the staircase. - -From the frying pan's discomfort to the greater dangers of the fire was -what he had done for himself. He found himself in a long room at one end -of which he stood, swearing under breath at what he saw. At the other -Mr. William Drummond was seated at a table. And Mr. Drummond held in his -hand an ugly automatic of .38 calibre. Covering him with the weapon the -banker came swiftly toward him. It was the unexpected moment for which -Anthony Trent was prepared. Assuming the demeanor of the drunken man he -peered into the elder man's face. He betrayed no fear of the pistol. His -speech was thickened, but he was reasonably coherent. - -"It is old Drummond, isn't it?" he demanded. - -"What are you doing here?" the other snapped, and then gave a start when -he saw to whom he spoke. "Mr. Bulstrode!" - -"I've come," said the other swaying slightly, "to tell you I'm sorry. I -don't know why I said it but the other fellers said it wasn't right. -I've come to shake your hand." He caught sight of the weapon. "Put that -damn thing down, Drummond." - -Obediently the banker slipped it into the pocket of his dressing gown. -He followed the swaying man as he walked toward the lighted part of the -room. He was frankly amazed. Wild as he was, and drunken as was his -evening custom, why had this heir to the Bulstrode millions entered his -house like a thief in the night? And for what was he sorry? - -In a chair by the side of the desk Anthony Trent flung himself. He -wanted particularly to see what the banker had hidden with a swift -motion as he had risen. The yellow end of some notes of high -denomination caught his eye. Right on the table was what he sought. The -only method of getting it would be to overpower Drummond. There were -objections to this. The banker was armed and would certainly shoot. Or -there might be a terrific physical encounter in which the younger man -might kill unintentionally. And an end in the electric chair was no part -of Trent's scheme of things. Also, there was some one else awake in the -house. - -Drummond resumed his seat and the watcher saw him with elaborate -unconcern slide an evening paper over the partially concealed notes. - -"Just what is on your mind, Mr. Bulstrode?" he began. - -"I called you 'Shylock,'" Trent returned. "No right to have said it. -What I should have said was, 'Come and have a drink.' Been ashamed of -myself ever since." - -Drummond looked at him fixedly. It was a calculating glance and a cold -one. And there was the contempt in it that a sober man has for one far -gone in drink. - -"And do you usually break into a man's house when you want to -apologize?" There was almost a sneer in his voice. - -"Break in?" retorted the other, apparently slow at comprehending him, -"the damn door wasn't locked. Any one could get in. Burglars could break -through and steal. Most foolish. I lock my door every night. All -sensible people do. Surprised at you." - -"We'll see about that," said Drummond. He took a grip on his visitor's -arm and led him through the hall to the door. It was unlocked and the -burglar alarm system disconnected. It was not the first time that -Drummond's man had forgotten it. In the morning he would be dismissed. -Apparently this irresponsible young ass had got the idea in his stupid -head that he had acted offensively and had calmly walked in. It was the -opportunity for the banker to cultivate him. - -"As I came in," Trent told him, "some one was coming down the stairs. -Better see who it was." - -Drummond looked at him suspiciously. Trent knew that he was not yet -satisfied that his visitor's story was worthy of belief. Then he spoke -as one who humors a child. - -"We'll go and find out." - -Outside the door they came upon an elderly woman servant with a silver -tray in her hands. - -"Madame," she explained, "was not able to eat any luncheon or dinner and -has waked up hungry." - -Drummond raised the cover of a porcelain dish. - -"Caviare sandwiches," he grunted, "bad things to sleep on." - -He led the way back to the room. In his scheming mind was a vague scheme -to use this betise of Graham Bulstrode as a means to win his wife social -advancement. Mrs. Clent Bulstrode could do it. Money would not buy -recognition from her. Perhaps fear of exposure might. He glanced with -contempt at the huddled figure of the heir to Bulstrode millions. The -young man was too much intoxicated to offer any resistance. - -Tall, huge and menacing he stood over Anthony Trent. There was a look in -his eye that caused a certain uneasiness in the impostor's mind. In -another age and under different conditions Drummond would have been a -pirate. - -"If it had been any other house than mine," he began, "and you had not -been a fellow clubman an unexpected call like this might look a little -difficult of explanation." - -Anthony Trent acted his part superbly. Drunkenness in others had always -interested him. Drummond watching his vacuous face saw the inebriated -man's groping for a meaning admirably portrayed. - -"What do yer mean?" - -"Simply this," said Drummond distinctly. "At a time when I am supposed -to be in bed you creep into my house without knocking or ringing. You -come straight into a room where very valuable property is. While I -personally believe your story I doubt whether the police would. They are -taught to be suspicious. There would be a lot of scandal. Your mother, -for instance, would be upset. New York papers revel in that sort of -thing. You have suppressed news in Boston papers but that doesn't go -here." He nodded his head impressively. "I wouldn't like to wager that -the police would be convinced. In fact it might take a lot of publicity -before you satisfied the New York police." - -The idea seemed to amuse the younger man. - -"Let's call 'em up and see," he suggested and made a lurching step -toward the phone. - -"No, no," the other exclaimed hastily, "I wouldn't have that happen for -the world." - -Over his visitor's face Drummond could see a look of laboring -comprehension gradually stealing. It was succeeded by a frown. An idea -had been born which was soon to flower in high and righteous anger. - -"You're a damned old blackmailer!" cried Anthony Trent, struggling to -his feet. "When a gentleman comes to apologize you call him a robber. -I'm going home." - -Drummond stood over him threatening and powerful. - -"I don't know that I shall let you," he said unpleasantly. "Why should -I? You are so drunk that in the morning you won't remember a word I've -said to you. I'm going to make use of you, you young whelp. You've -delivered yourself into my hands. If I were to shoot you for a burglar I -should only get commended for it." - -"Like hell you would," Trent chuckled, "that old girl with the caviare -sandwiches would tell the jury we were conversing amiably. You'd swing -for it, Drummond, old dear, and I'd come to see your melancholy end." - -"And there's another thing," Drummond reminded him, "you've got a bad -record. Your father didn't give up the Somerset Club because he liked -the New York ones any better. They wanted to get you away from certain -influences there. I've got your whole history." - -"Haven't you anything to drink?" Anthony Trent demanded. - -From a cupboard in his black walnut desk Drummond took a large silver -flask. He did not want his guest to become too sober. Since it was the -first drink that Anthony Trent had taken that night he gulped eagerly. - -"Good old Henessey!" he murmured. "Henessey's a gentleman," he added -pointedly. - -"Look here," said Drummond presently after deep thought. "You've got to -go home. I'm told there's a butler who fetches you from any low dive you -may happen to be." - -"He hates it," Trent chuckled. "He's a prohibitionist. I made him one." - -Drummond came over to him and looked him clear in the eye. - -"What's your telephone number?" he snapped. - -Trent was too careful a craftsman to be caught like that. He flung the -Bulstrode number back in a flash. "Ring him up," he commanded, "there's -a direct wire to his room after twelve." - -"What's his name?" Drummond asked. - -"Old Man Afraid of His Wife," he was told. Mrs. Kinney had told him of -the nickname young Bulstrode had given the butler. - -Drummond flushed angrily. "His real name? I'm not joking." - -"Nor am I," Trent observed, "I always call him that." He put on an -expression of obstinacy. "That's all I'll tell you. Give me the phone -and let me talk." - -It was a bad moment for Anthony Trent. It was probable that William -Drummond was going to call up the Bulstrode residence to make certain -that his visitor was indeed Graham Bulstrode. And if the butler were to -inform him that the heir already snored in his own bed there must come -the sudden physical struggle. And Drummond was armed. He had not failed -to observe that the door to the entrance hall was locked. When Drummond -had spoken to the servant outside he had taken this precaution. For a -moment Trent entertained the idea of springing at the banker as he stood -irresolutely with the telephone in his hand. But he abandoned it. That -would be to bring things to a head. And to wait might bring safety. - -But he was sufficiently sure of himself to be amused when he heard -Drummond hesitatingly ask if he were speaking to Old Man Afraid of His -Wife. The banker hastily disclaimed any intention of being offensive. - -"Mr. Graham Bulstrode is with me," he informed the listener, "and that -is the only name he would give. I am particularly anxious that you -inform his father I am bringing him home. Also," his voice sank to a -whisper, "I must speak to Mr. Bulstrode when I come. I shall be there -within half an hour. He will be sorry all his days if he refuses to see -me." As he hung up the instrument he noted with pleasure that young -Bulstrode was conversing amicably with his old friend Henessey, whose -brandy is famous. - -Drummond had mapped it all out. He would not stay to dress. Over his -dressing gown he would pull an automobile duster as though he had been -suddenly disturbed. He would accuse Graham of breaking in to steal. He -would remind the chastened father of several Boston scandals. He could -see the Back Bay blue blood beg for mercy. And the end of it would be -that in the society columns of the New York dailies it would be -announced that Mr. and Mrs. William Drummond had dined with Mr. and Mrs. -Clent Bulstrode. - -No taxi was in sight when they came down the steps to the silent street. -Drummond was in an amazing good humor. His captor was now reduced -through his friendship with Henessey to a silent phase of his failing. -He clung tightly to the banker's stalwart arm and only twice attempted -to break into song. Since the distance was not great the two walked. -Trent looked anxiously at every man they met when they neared the -Bulstrode mansion. He feared to meet a man of his own build wearing a -silk lined Inverness cape. It may be wondered why Anthony Trent, fleet -of foot and in the shadow of the park across which his modest apartment -lay, did not trip up the banker and make his easy escape. The answer -lies in the fact that Trent was not an ordinary breaker of the law. And -also that he had conceived a very real dislike to William Drummond, his -person, his character and his aspirations. He was determined that -Drummond should ride for a fall. - -A tired looking man yawning from lack of sleep let them into the house. -It was a residence twice the size of Drummond's. The banker peered about -the vast hall, gloomy in the darkness. In fancy he could see Mrs. -Drummond sweeping through it on her way to dinner. - -"Mr. Bulstrode is in the library," he said acidly. That another should -dare to use a nickname that fitted him so aptly filled him with -indignation. He barely glanced at the man noisily climbing the stairs to -his bedroom, the man who had coined the opprobrious phrase. Drummond was -ushered into the presence of Clent Bulstrode. - -The Bostonian was a tall man with a cold face and a great opinion of his -social responsibilities. The only New Yorkers he cared to know were -those after whose families downtown streets had been named. - -"I am not in the habit, sir," he began icily, "of being summoned from my -bed at this time of night to talk to a stranger. I don't like it, Mr. -Dummles----" - -"Drummond," his visitor corrected. - -"The same thing," cried Bulstrode. "I know no one bearing either name. I -can only hope your errand is justified. I am informed it has to do with -my son." - -"You know it has," Drummond retorted. "He broke into my house to-night. -And he came, curiously enough, at a time when there was a deal of loose -cash in my room. Mr. Bulstrode, has he done that before? If he has I'm -afraid he could get into trouble if I informed the police." - -It was a triumphant moment when he saw a look of fear pass over -Bulstrode's contemptuous countenance. It was a notable hit. - -"You wouldn't do that?" he cried. - -"That depends," Drummond answered. - -Upon what it depended Clent Bulstrode never knew for there came the -noise of an automobile stopping outside the door. There was a honking of -the horn and the confused sound of many voices talking at once. - -Drummond followed the Bostonian through the great hall to the open door. -They could see Old Man Afraid of His Wife assisting a young inebriate in -evening dress. And his Inverness cape was lined with white silk and over -his eyes an opera hat was pulled. - -The chauffeur alone was sober. He touched his hat when he saw Mr. -Bulstrode. - -"Where have you come from?" he demanded. - -"I took the gentlemen to New Haven," he said. - -"Has my son been with you all the evening?" - -"Yes, sir," the chauffeur returned. - -Drummond, his hopes dashed, followed Bulstrode to the library. "Now," -said the clubman sneering, "I shall be glad to hear your explanation of -your slander of my son. In the morning I can promise you my lawyers will -attend to it in detail." - -"I was deceived," the wretched Drummond sought to explain. "A man -dressed like your son whom I know by sight came in and----" - -He went through the whole business. By this time the butler was standing -at the open door listening. - -"I can only say," Mr. Bulstrode remarked, "that these excuses you offer -so glibly will be investigated." - -"Excuses!" cried the other goaded to anger. "Excuses! I'll have you know -that a father with a son like yours is more in need of excuses than I -am." - -He turned his head to see the butler entering the room. There was an -unpleasant expression on the man's face which left him vaguely uneasy. - -"Show this person out," said Bulstrode in his most forbidding manner. - -"Wait a minute," Drummond commanded, "you owe it to me to have this -house searched. We all saw that impostor go upstairs. For all we know -he's in hiding this very minute." - -"You needn't worry," Old Man Afraid of His Wife observed. "He went out -just before Mr. Graham came back in the motor. I was going to see what -it was when the car came between us." The man turned to Clent Bulstrode. -"It's my belief, sir, they're accomplices." - -"What makes you say that?" demanded his master. He could see an unusual -expression of triumph in the butler's eye. - -"The black pearl stick pin that Mr. Graham values so much has been -stolen from his room." - -"What have I to do with that?" Drummond shouted. - -"Simply this," the other returned, "that you introduced this criminal to -my house and I shall expect you to make good what your friend took." - -"Friend!" repeated the outraged Drummond. "My friend!" - -"It is a matter for the police," Bulstrode yawned. - -Drummond watched his tall, thin figure ascending the stairs. Plainly -there was nothing left but to go. Never in his full life had things -broken so badly for William Drummond. He could feel the butler's baleful -stare as he slowly crossed the great hall. He felt he hated the man who -had witnessed his defeat and laughed at his humiliation. And Drummond -was not used to the contempt of underlings. - -Yet the butler had the last word. As he closed the door he flung a -contemptuous good-night after the banker. - -"Good-night," he said, "Old Man Afraid of the Police." - - * * * * * - -A broken and dispirited man William Drummond, banker, came to his own -house. The pockets in which he had placed his keys were empty. There was -no hole by which they might have been lost and he had not removed the -long duster. Only one man could have taken them. He called to mind how -the staggering creature who claimed to be Graham Bulstrode had again and -again clutched at him for support. And if he had taken them, to what use -had they been put? - -It seemed he must have waited half an hour before a sleepy servant let -him in. Drummond pushed by him with an oath and went hastily to the -black walnut desk. There, seemingly unmoved, was the paper that he had -pulled over the notes when the unknown came into the room. It was when -he raised it to see what lay beneath that he understood to the full what -a costly night it had been for him. Across one of his own envelopes was -scrawled the single word--Shylock. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE DANGER OF SENTIMENT - - -AFTER leaving Drummond's house Anthony Trent started without intemperate -haste for his comfortable apartment. In accordance with his -instructions, Mrs. Kinney retired not later than ten. There might come a -night when he needed to prove the alibi that she could unconsciously -nullify if she waited up for him. - -In these early days of his career he was not much in fear of detection -and approached his door with little of the trepidation he was to -experience later when his name was unknown still but his reputation -exceedingly high with the police. Later he knew he must arrange his mode -of life with greater care. - -New York, for example, is not an easy city for a man fleeing from police -pursuit. Its brilliant lighting, its sleeplessness, the rectangular -blocks and absence of helpful back alleys, all these were aids to the -law abiding. - -He had not chosen his location heedlessly. From the roof on which he -often slept he could see five feet distant from its boundary, the wall -that circumscribed the top of another house such as his but having its -entrance on a side street. It would not be hard to get a key to fit the -front door; and since he would make use of it infrequently and then only -late at night there was little risk of detection. - -Thinking several moves ahead of his game was one of Trent's means to -insure success. He must have some plausible excuse in case he were -caught upon the roof. The excuse that suggested itself instantly was a -cat. He bought a large and frolicsome cat, tiger-striped and a stealthy -hunter by night, and introduced him to Mrs. Kinney. That excellent woman -was not pleased. A cat, she asserted, needed a garden. "Exactly," agreed -her employer, "a roof garden." So it was that Agrippa joined the -household and sought to prey upon twittering sparrows. And since Agrippa -looking seventy feet below was not in fear of falling, he leaped the -intermediate distance between the roofs and was rewarded with a sparrow. -Thereafter he used what roof offered the best hunting. - -Two maiden ladies occupied the topmost flat, the Misses Sawyer, and were -startled one evening at a knock upon their door. An affable young -gentleman begged permission to retrieve his cat from their roof. The -hunting Agrippa had sprung the dreadful space and feared, he asserted -plausibly, to get back. - -The Misses Sawyer loved cats, it seemed, but had none now, fearing to -seem disloyal to the memory of a peerless beast about whom they could -not talk without tear-flooded eyes. They told their neighbor cordially -that whenever Agrippa strayed again he was to make free of the roof. - -"Ring our bell," said one of them, "and we'll let you in." - -"But how did you get in?" the other sister demanded, suddenly. - -"The door was open," he said blandly. - -"That's that dreadful Mr. Dietz again," they cried in unison. "He -drinks, and when he goes out to the saloon, he puts the catch back so -there won't be the bother of a key. I have complained but the janitor -takes no notice. I suppose we don't offer him cigars and tips, so he -takes the part of Dietz." - -By this simple maneuver Anthony Trent established his right to use the -roof without incurring suspicion. - -The Drummond loot proved not to be despised by one anxious to put a -hundred thousand dollars to his credit. The actual amount was three -thousand, eight hundred dollars. Furthermore, there was some of the -Drummond stationery, a bundle of letters and the two or three things he -had taken hastily from young Bulstrode's room. He regretted there had -been so small an opportunity to investigate the Bulstrode mansion but -time had too great a value for him. The black pearl had flung itself at -him, and some yale keys and assorted club stationery--these were all he -could take. The stationery might prove useful. He had discovered that -fact in the Conington Warren affair. If it had not been that the butler -crept out of the dark hall to watch him as he left the Bulstrode house, -he would have tried the keys on the hall door. That could be done later. -It is not every rich house which is guarded by burglar resisting -devices. - -It was the bundle of letters and I. O. U.'s that he examined with -peculiar care. They were enclosed in a long, blue envelope on which was -written "Private and Personal." - -When Trent had read them all he whistled. - -"These will be worth ten times his measly thirty-eight hundred," he said -softly. - -But there was no thought of blackmail in his mind. That was a crime at -which he still wholesomely rebelled. It occurred to him sometimes that a -life such as his tended to lead to progressive deterioration. That there -might come a time when he would no longer feel bitterly toward -blackmailers. It was part of his punishment, this dismal thought of what -might be unless he reverted to the ways of honest men. Inasmuch as a man -may play a crooked game decently, so Anthony Trent determined to play -it. - -Many of the letters in the blue envelope were from women whose names -were easily within the ken of one who studied the society columns of the -metropolitan dailies. Most of them seemed to have been the victims of -misplaced bets at Belmont Park or rash bidding at Auction. There was one -letter from the wife of a high official at Washington begging him on no -account to let her husband know she had borrowed money from him. A -prominent society golfing girl whose play Trent had a score of times -admired for its pluck and skill had borrowed a thousand dollars from -Drummond. There was her I. O. U. on the table. Scrawling a line on -Drummond stationery in what seemed to be Drummond handwriting, Anthony -Trent sent it back to her. There were acknowledgments of borrowings from -the same kind of rich waster that Graham Bulstrode represented. A score -of prominent persons would have slept the better for knowing that their -I. O. U.'s had passed from Drummond's keeping. The man was more of a -usurer than banker. - -What interested Anthony Trent most of all was a collection of letters -signed "N.G." and written on the stationery of a very exclusive club. -It was a club to which Drummond did not belong. - -The first letter was merely a request that Drummond meet the writer in -the library of the athletic club where Anthony Trent had seen him. - -The second was longer and spelled a deeper distress. - -"It's impossible in a case like this," wrote "N.G.," "to get any man I -know well to endorse my note. If I could afford to let all the world -into my secret, I should not have come to you. You know very well that -as I am the only son your money is safe enough. I must pay this girl -fifty thousand dollars or let my father know all about it. He would be -angry enough to send me to some god-forsaken ranch to cut wild oats." - -The third letter was still more insistent. The writer was obviously -afraid that he would have to beg the money from his father. - -"I have always understood," he wrote, "that you would lend any amount on -reasonable security. I want only fifty thousand dollars but I've got to -have it at once. It's quite beyond my mother's power to get it for me -this time. I've been to that source too often and the old man is on to -it. E.G. insists that the money in cash must be paid to her on the -morning of the 18th when she will call at the house with her lawyer. I -am to receive my letters back and she will leave New York. Let me know -instantly." - -The next letter indicated that William Drummond had decided to lend -"N.G." the amount but that his offer came too late. - -"I wish you had made up your mind sooner," said "N.G." "It would have -saved me the devil of a lot of worry and you could have made money out -of it. As it is my father learned of it somehow. He talked about the -family honor as usual. But the result is that when she and her lawyer -call at ten on Thursday morning the money will be there. No check for -her; she's far too clever, but fifty thousand in crisp new notes. As for -me, I'm to reform. That means I have to go down town every morning at -nine and work in my father's brokerage business. Can you imagine me -doing that? I blame you for it, Drummond. You are too cautious by a damn -sight to please me." - -Anthony Trent was thus put into possession of the following facts. That -a rich man's son, initials only known, had got into some sort of a -scrape with a girl, initials were E.G., who demanded fifty thousand -dollars in cash which was to be paid at the residence of the young man's -father. The date set was Thursday the eighteenth. It was now the early -morning of Tuesday the sixteenth. - -Trent had lists of the members of all the best clubs. He went through -the one on whose paper N.G. had written. There were several members with -those initials. Careful elimination left him with only one likely name, -that of Norton Guestwick. Norton Guestwick was the only son and heir of -a very rich broker. The elder Guestwick posed as a musical critic, had a -box in the Golden Horseshoe and patronized such opera singers as -permitted it. Many a time Anthony Trent had gazed on the Guestwick -family seated in their compelling box from the modest seat that was his. -Guestwick had even written a book, "Operas I Have Seen," which might be -found in most public libraries. It was an elaborately illustrated tome -which reflected his shortcomings as a critic no less than his vanity as -an author. A collector of musical books, Trent remembered buying it with -high hopes and being disgusted at its smug ineffectiveness. - -He had seldom seen Norton in the family box but the girls were seldom -absent. They, too, upheld the Arts. Long ago he had conceived a dislike -for Guestwick. He hated men who beat what they thought was time to music -whose composers had other ideas of it. - -Turning up a recent file of _Gotham Gossip_ he came upon a reference to -the Guestwick heir. "We understand," said this waspish, but usually -veracious weekly, "that Norton Guestwick's attention to pretty Estelle -Grandcourt (nee Sadie Cort) has much perturbed his aristocratic parents -who wish him to marry a snug fortune and a girl suited to be their -daughter-in-law. It is not violating a confidence to say that the lady -in question occupies a mansion on Commonwealth avenue and is one of the -most popular girls in Boston's smart set." - -While many commentators will puzzle themselves over the identity of the -dark lady of the immortal sonnets, few could have failed to perceive -that E.G. was almost certain to be Estelle Grandcourt. Sundry tests of a -confirmatory nature proved it without doubt. He had thus two days in -which to make his preparations to annex the fifty thousand dollars. -There were difficulties. In these early days of his adventuring Anthony -Trent made no use of disguises. He had so far been but himself. Vaguely -he admitted that he must sooner or later come to veiling his identity. -For the present exploit it was necessary that he should find out the -name of the Guestwick butler. - -He might have to get particulars from Clarke. But even Clarke's help -could not now be called in and it was upon this seemingly unimportant -thing that his plan hinged. In a disguise such as many celebrated -cracksmen had used, he might have gained a kitchen door and learned by -what name Guestwick's man called himself. Or he might have found it out -from a tradesman's lad. But to ask, as Anthony Trent, what might link -him with a robbery was too risky. - -Unfortunately for Charles Newman Guestwick his book, which had cost -Trent two dollars and was thrown aside as worthless, supplied the key to -what was needed. - -It was the wordy, garrulous book that only a multi-millionaire author -might write and have published. The first chapter, "My Childhood," was -succeeded by a lofty disquisition on music. Later there came revelations -of the Guestwick family life with portraits of their various homes. The -music room had a chapter to itself. Reading on, Anthony Trent came to -the chapter headed, rather cryptically, "After the Opera." - -"It is my custom," wrote the excellent Guestwick, "to hold in my box an -informal reception after the performance is ended. My wide knowledge of -music, of singers and their several abilities lends me, I venture to -say, a unique position among amateurs. - -"We rarely sup at hotel or restaurant after the performance. In my -library where there is also a grand piano--we have three such -instruments in our New York home and two more at Lenox--Mrs. Guestwick -and my daughters talk over what we have heard, criticizing here, lauding -there, until a simple repast is served by the butler who always waits up -for us. The rest of the servants have long since retired. My library -consists of perhaps the most valuable collection of musical literature -in the world. - -"I have mentioned in another chapter the refining influence of music on -persons of little education. John Briggs, my butler, is a case in point. -He came to me from Lord Fitzhosken's place in Northamptonshire, England. -The Fitzhoskens are immemoriably associated with fox-hunting and the -steeple-chase and all Briggs heard there in the way of music were the -cheerful rollicking songs of the hunt breakfast. I sent him to see -Goetterdaemmerung. He told me simply that it was a revelation to him. He -doubted in his uneducated way whether Wagner himself comprehended what -he had written." - -There were thirty other chapters in Mr. Guestwick's book. In all he -revealed himself as a pompous ass assured only of tolerance among a -people where money consciousness had succeeded that of caste. But -Anthony Trent felt kindly toward him and the money he had spent was -likely to earn him big dividends if things went well. - -Caruso sang on the night preceding the morning on which Estelle -Grandcourt was to appear and claim her heart balm. This meant a large -attendance; for tenors may come and go, press agents may announce other -golden voiced singers, but Caruso holds his pride of place honestly won -and generously maintained. It had been Trent's experience that the -Guestwicks rarely missed a big night. - -It was at half past nine Anthony Trent groaned that a professional -engagement compelled him to leave the Metropolitan. He had spent money -on a seat not this time for an evening of enjoyment, but to make certain -that the Guestwicks were in their box. - -There was Charles Newman Guestwick beating false time with a pudgy hand. -His lady, weighted with Guestwick jewels, tried to create the impression -that, after all, Caruso owed much of his success to her amiable -patronage. The two daughters upheld the Guestwick tradition by being -exceedingly affable to those greater than they and using lorgnettes to -those who strove to know the Guestwicks. - -Mr. John Briggs, drinking a mug of ale and wondering who was winning a -light weight contest at the National Sporting Club, was resting in his -sitting-room. He liked these long opera evenings, which gave him the -opportunity to rest, as much as he despised his employer for his -inordinate attendance at these meaningless entertainments. He shuddered -as he remembered "The Twilight of the Gods." - -At ten o'clock when Mr. Briggs was nodding in his chair the telephone -bell rang. Over the wire came his employer's voice. It was not without -purpose that Anthony Trent's unusual skill in mimicry had been employed. -As a youth he had acquired a reputation in his home town for imitations -of Henry Irving, Bryan, Otis Skinner and their like. - -"Is this you, Briggs?" demanded the supposed Mr. Guestwick. - -"Yes, sir," returned Briggs. - -"I wish you to listen carefully to my instructions," he was commanded. -"They are very important." - -"Certainly, sir," the man returned. He sensed a something, almost -agitation in the usually placid voice. "I hope there's nothing serious, -sir." - -"There may be," the other said, "that I can't say yet. See that every -one goes to bed but you. Send them off at once. You must remain up until -a man in evening dress comes to the front door and demands admittance. -It will be a detective. Show him at once to the library and leave him -absolutely undisturbed. Absolutely undisturbed, Briggs, do you -understand?" - -"I'll do as you say, sir," Briggs answered, troubled. He was sure now -that serious sinister things were afoot and wished the Guestwicks had -been as well disposed to dogs in the house as had been that hard -drinking, reckless Lord Fitzhosken. Suddenly an important thought came -to him. "Is there any way of making sure that the man who comes is the -detective?" - -"I am glad you are so shrewd, Briggs," said the millionaire. "It had not -occurred to me that an impostor might come. Say to the man, 'What is -your errand?' I shall instruct him to answer, 'I have come to look at -Mr. Guestwick's rare editions.'" - -"Very good, sir," said Briggs. - -"Unless he answers that, do not admit him. You understand?" - -"Perfectly," the butler made answer. - -At half past ten a man in evening dress rang the door of the Guestwick -mansion. He was a tall man with a hard look and a biting, gruff voice. - -Briggs interposed his sturdy body between the stranger and the -entrance. - -"What is your errand?" said Briggs suavely. - -"I have come to look at Mr. Guestwick's rare editions," he was told. - -"Step inside," urged Briggs with cordiality. - -"Everybody in bed?" the man snapped. - -"Except me," said the butler. - -"Any one here except the servants?" - -"We have no house guests," said Briggs. "We don't keep a deal of -company." - -"Show me to the library," the stranger commanded. - -Briggs, now stately and offended, led the way. Briggs resented the tone -the detective used. In his youth the butler had been handy with the -gloves. It was for this reason he was taken into service by the -fox-hunting nobleman so that he might box with his lordship every day -before breakfast. Briggs would have liked the opportunity to put on the -gloves with this frowning, overbearing, hawknosed detective. - -"You've got your orders?" cried the stranger. - -"I have," Briggs answered, a trace of insolence perceptible. - -"Then get out and don't worry me. Remember this, answer no phone -messages or door bells. My men outside will attend to the people who -want to get into this house." - -Briggs tried new tactics. He was feverishly anxious to find out what was -suspected. - -"As man to man," Briggs began with a fine affability. - -Imperiously he was ordered from the room. - -Anthony Trent sank into a chair and laughed gently. It had all been so -absurdly easy. Two good hours were before him. None would interrupt. It -was known that young Norton had been bundled out of town until his -charmer had disappeared. _Gotham Gossip_ had told him so much. It was -almost certain that the Guestwicks would not return to their home until -half past twelve. That would give him a sufficient time to examine every -likely looking place in the house. The old time crook would no doubt -have hit Mr. Briggs over the head with a black jack and run a risk in -the doing of it. The representative of the newer school had simply sent -all the servants to bed. - -Looking quickly about the great apartment, book-lined and imposing, -Trent's eyes fell on an edition in twenty fat volumes of _Penroy's -Encyclopaedia of Music and Art_. Scrutiny told the observer that behind -these steel-bound fake books there was a safe. It was an old dodge, -this. If the money for Miss Grandcourt was not here there were, no -doubt, negotiable papers and jewels. This was just the sort of -sacro-sanct spot where valuables might be laid away. - -To pry open the glass door of the book case, roll back the works of the -unknown Penroy and come face to face with the old fashioned safe took -less than two minutes. It was amazing that so shrewd a man as Guestwick -must be in business matters should rely on this. It was rather that he -relied on the integrity of his servants and an efficient system of -burglar alarm. - -From the cane that Anthony Trent had carelessly thrown on a chair, he -took some finely tempered steel drills and presently assembled the tools -necessary to his task. As a boy he had been the rare kind who could take -a watch apart and put it together again and have no parts left over. It -was largely owing to an inborn mechanical skill that he had persuaded -himself he could make good at his calling. - -It was striking eleven by the ship's clock--six bells--when he rolled -the doors open. He rose to his feet and stretched. Kneeling before the -safe had cramped his muscles. Sinking into a big black leathern chair he -contemplated the strong box that was now at his mercy. He allowed -himself the luxury of a cigarette. There passed before his mind's eye a -vista of pleasant shaded pools wherein big trout were lying. Weems did -not own the only desirable camp on Kennebago. - -He was suddenly called back from this dreaming, this castle-building, to -a realization that such prospects might never be his. It was the low, -pleasant, tones of a cultivated woman's voice which wrought the amazing -change. - -"I suppose you're a burglar," the voice said. There was no trace of -nervousness in her tone. - -He sprang to his feet and looked around. Not twenty feet distant he saw -her. She was a tall, graceful girl about twenty-two or three, clad in a -charming evening gown. Over her white arm trailed a fur cloak costly and -elegant. And, although the moment was hardly one for thinking of female -charms, he was struck by her unusual beauty. She possessed an air of -extreme sophistication and stood looking at him as if the man before her -were some unusual and bizarre specimen of his kind. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -WHEN A WOMAN SMILED - - -ANTHONY TRENT apparently was in no way confused at this interruption. -The woman was not to guess that his _nonchalant_ manner and the careless -lighting of a cigarette, cloaked in reality a feeling of despair at the -untoward ending of his adventure. Calmly she walked past him and looked -at the assemblage of finely tempered steel instruments of his -profession. - -"So you're a burglar!" she said with an air of decision. - -"That is a term I dislike," said Anthony Trent genially. "Call me rather -a professional collector, an abstractor, a connoisseur--anything but -that." - -"It amounts to the same thing," she returned severely, "you came here to -steal my father's money." - -"Your father's money," he returned slowly. "Then--then you are Miss -Guestwick?" - -"Naturally," she retorted eyeing him keenly, "and if you offer any -violence I shall have you arrested." - -She was amazed to see a pleasant smile break over the intruder's face. -He was exceedingly attractive when he smiled. - -"What a hard heart you have!" - -"You ought to realize this is no time to jest," she said stiffly. - -"I am not so sure," he made answer. - -She looked at him haughtily. He realized that he had rarely seen so -beautiful a girl. There was a look of high courage about her that -particularly appealed to him. She had long Oriental eyes of jade green. -He amended his guess as to her age. She must be seven and twenty he told -himself. - -"It is my duty to call the police and have you arrested," she exclaimed. - -"That is the usual procedure," he agreed. - -She stood there irresolute. - -"I wonder what makes you steal!" - -"Abstract," he corrected, "collect, borrow, annex--but not steal." - -She took no notice of his interruption. - -"It isn't as though you were ill or starving--that might be some sort of -excuse--but you are well dressed. I've done a great deal of social work -among the poor and often I've met the wives of thieves and have actually -found myself pitying men who have stolen for bread." - -"Jean Valjean stuff," he smiled, "it has elements of pathos. Jean got -nineteen years for it if you remember." - -She paid no heed to his flippancy. - -"You talk like an educated man. Economic determination did not bring you -to this. You have absolutely no excuse." - -"I have offered none," he said drily. - -She spoke with a sudden air of candor. - -"Do you know this situation interests me very much. One reads about -burglars, of course, but that sort of thing seems rather remote. We've -never had any robberies here before, and now to come face to face with -a real burglar, cracking--isn't that the word you use?--a safe, is -rather disconcerting." - -"You bear up remarkably well," he assured her. - -It was her turn to smile. - -"I'm just wondering," she said slowly. "My father detests notoriety." - -The intruder permitted himself to laugh gently. He thought of that -pretentious tome "Operas I Have Seen." - -"How well Mr. Guestwick conceals it!" - -Apparently she had not heard him. It was plain she was in the throes of -making up her mind. - -"I wonder if I ought to do it," she mused. - -"Do what?" he demanded. - -"Let you get away. You have so far stolen nothing so I should not be -aiding or abetting a crime." - -"Indeed you would," he said promptly. "My very presence here is illegal -and as you see I have opened that absurd safe." - -"What an amazing burglar!" she cried, "he does not want his freedom." - -"It is your duty as Mr. Guestwick's daughter to send me to jail and I -shan't respect you if you don't." - -She was again the haughty young society woman gazing at a curious -specimen of man. - -"It is very evident," she snapped, "that you don't appreciate your -position. Instead of sending you to prison I am willing to give you -another chance. Will you promise me never to do this sort of thing again -if I let you go?" - -Trent looked up. - -"I have enjoyed your conversation very much," he observed genially, -"but I have work to do. Inside that safe I expect to find fifty thousand -dollars and possibly some odd trinkets. I am in particular need of the -money and I propose to get it." - -Swiftly she crossed the room to a telephone. - -"I don't think you'll succeed," she said, her hand on the instrument. - -"Put it to the test," he suggested. "The wires are not cut." - -"Why aren't you afraid?" she demanded; "don't you realize your -position?" - -"Fully," he retorted, "but remember you'll have just the same difficulty -as I in explaining your presence here. Now go ahead and get the police." - -"What do you mean?" she cried. He noticed that she paled at what he said -and her hands had been for a moment not quite steady. - -"First that you are not a Miss Guestwick. There are only two of them and -I have just left them at the Opera. Next you are neither servant nor -guest. The servants are all abed and there are no house guests. I am not -accustomed to making mistakes in matters of this sort. Now, I'm not -inviting confidences and I'm not making threats, but the doors are -locked and I intend to get what I came for. Ring all you like and see if -a servant answers you. By the way how is it I overlooked you when I came -in?" - -"I hid behind those portieres." - -"It was excusable," he commented, "not to have looked there." - -She sank into a chair her whole face suffused with gloom. He steeled his -heart against feeling sympathy for her. He would liked to have learned -all about her but there was not much time. The Guestwicks might return -earlier than usual or Briggs might be lurking the other side of the -door. - -"You've found me out," she said quietly, "I'm not one of the Guestwick -girls." - -"I told you so," he said a little impatiently. - -"Don't you want to know anything about me?" she demanded. - -"Some other time," he returned, "I'm busy now." - -"But what are you going to do?" she asked. - -"I thought I told you. I'm going to see what Mr. Guestwick has which -interests me. Then I shall get a bite to eat somewhere and go home to -bed." - -"Are you going to take that fifty thousand dollars?" she demanded. Her -tone was a tragic one. - -"That's what I came for," he told her. - -"You mustn't, you mustn't," she declared and then fell to weeping -bitterly. - -Beauty in distress moved Anthony Trent even when his business most -engrossed his attention. It was his nature to be considerate of women. -When he had garnered enough money to buy himself a home he intended to -marry and settle down to domestic joys. As to this weeping woman, there -was little doubt in his mind as to the reason she was in the Guestwick -home. Perhaps she noticed the harder look that came to his face. - -"Whom do you think I am?" she asked. - -"I have not forgotten," he answered, "that women also are abstractors at -times." - -She gazed at him wide open eyes, a look of horror on her face. - -"You think I'm here to steal?" - -"I wish I didn't," he answered. "It's bad enough for a man, but for a -woman like you. What am I to think when I find you hiding in a house -where you have no right to be?" - -"That's the whole tragedy of it," she exclaimed, "that I've no right to -be here. I suppose I shall have to tell you everything. Can't you guess -who I am?" - -Anthony Trent looked at the clock. Precious seconds were chasing one -another into minutes and he had wasted too much time already. - -"I don't see that it matters at all to me," he pointed to the safe, "I'm -here on business." - -It annoyed him to feel he was not quite living up to the debonair heroes -he had created once upon a time. They would not have permitted -themselves to be so brusque with a lovely girl upon whose exquisite -cheeks tears were still wet. - -"You must listen to me," she implored, "I'm Estelle Grandcourt. Now do -you understand why I've come?" - -"For the money that you think is already yours," he said, a trifle -sulkily. Matters were becoming complicated. - -"Money!" cried the amazing chorus girl, "I hate it!" - -His face cleared. - -"If that's the case," he said genially, "we shall not quarrel. Frankly, -Miss Grandcourt, I love it." - -She glanced at him through tear-beaded lashes. - -"I suppose you've always thought of a show girl as a scheming -adventuress always on the lookout for some foolish, rich old man or else -some silly boy with millions to spend." - -"Not at all!" he protested. - -"But you have," she contradicted, "I can tell by your manner. For my -part I have always thought of burglars as brutal, low-browed men without -chivalry or courtesy. I've been wrong too. I imagined the -gentleman-crook was only a fiction and now I find him a fact. Will you -please tell me what you've heard about me. I'm not fishing for -compliments. I want, really and truly, to know." - -Trent hesitated a moment. He thought, as he looked at her, that never -had he seen a sweeter face. She was wholly in earnest. - -"Please, please," she entreated. - -"It's probably all wrong," he observed, "but the general impression is -that Norton Guestwick is a wild, weak lad for whom you set your snares. -And when Mr. Guestwick tried to break it off you asked fifty-thousand -dollars in cash as a price." - -"Do you believe that?" she asked looking at him almost piteously. - -"It was common report," he said, seeking to exonerate himself, "I read -some of it in _Gotham Gossip_." - -"And just because of what some spiteful writer said you condemn me -unheard." - -He looked at the inviting safe and fidgeted. - -"I'm not condemning," he reminded her. "I don't know anything about the -affair. I don't yet see why you are here, Miss Grandcourt." - -"Because I have the right to be," she said, looking him full in the -face. "I pretended I was a Miss Guestwick. If you wish to know the -truth, I am Mrs. Norton Guestwick. I can show you our marriage -certificate. This is the first time I have ever been in the house of my -father-in-law." - -"How did you get in?" he demanded. He felt certain that Briggs the -butler had shown him into the library believing it to be unoccupied. - -"I bribed a servant who used to be in our employ." - -"Your employ?" he queried. - -"Why not?" she flung back at him. "Is it also reported that I come from -the slums? We were never rich as the Guestwicks are rich, but until my -father died we lived in good style as we know it in the South. I am at -least as well educated as my sisters-in-law who refuse to recognize that -I exist. I was at the Sacred Heart Convent in Paris. I sing and paint -and play the piano as well as most girls but do none of these well -enough to make a living at it. I came here to New York hoping that -through the influence of my father's friends I could get some sort of a -position which would give me a living wage." She shrugged her shoulders, -"I wonder if you know how differently people look at one when one is -well off and when one comes begging favors?" - -"None better," he exclaimed bitterly. - -"So I had to get in to the chorus because they said my figure would do -even if I hadn't a good enough voice. Then I met Norton." - -She looked at Anthony Trent with a little friendly smile that stirred -him oddly. In that moment he envied Norton Guestwick more than any -living creature. - -"What do they say about my husband?" she asked. - -"You can never believe reports," he said evasively. - -"I'll tell you," she returned, "they say he is a waster, a libertine, -weak and degenerate. They are wrong. He is full of sweet, generous -impulses. His mother has so pampered him that he was almost hopeless -till I met him. I expect you think it's conceited of me but I have a -great influence on him." - -"You would on any man," he said fervently. - -She looked at him in a way that suggested a certain subtle tribute to -his best qualities. - -"Ah, but you are different," she sighed, "you are strong and resolute. -You would sway the woman you loved and make her what you wanted her to -be. He is clay for my molding and I want him to be a splendid, fine son -like my father." She looked at Trent with a tender, proud smile, "If you -had ever met my father you would understand." - -Anthony Trent shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. He had not -dared for months now to think of that kindly country physician who died -from the exposure attendant on a trip during a blizzard to aid a -penniless patient. - -"I know what you mean," he said at length, "and I think it is splendid -of you. Good God! why can people like the Guestwicks object to a girl -like you?" - -"They've never seen me," she explained, "and that's the main trouble. -They persist in thinking of me as a champagne-drinking adventuress who -wants to blackmail them. That money"--she pointed to the safe, "I didn't -ask for it. Mr. Guestwick offered it to me as a bribe to give up my -husband and consent to a divorce." - -"But I still don't see why you are here," he said. - -"Our old servant arranged it. She says they always come up here after -the opera, all four of them. If I confront them they must see I'm not -the sort of girl they think me. I'm dreading it horribly but it's the -only way." - -Anthony Trent looked at her with open admiration. - -"You'll win," he cried enthusiastically, "I feel it in my bones." - -"And when I absolutely refuse to take their money they _must_ see I'm -not the adventuress they call me." - -Anthony Trent had by this time forgotten the money. The mention of it -reminded him of his errand and the fleeting minutes. - -"If you don't take it, what is going to happen to it?" - -"I'm going to tell Mr. Guestwick that he can't buy me." - -"But I'm willing to be bought," he said, forcing a smile. "In fact -that's what I came for." - -She shrunk back as though he had struck her. Her big eyes looked -reproach at him. Tremulous eager words seemed forced from her by the -agitation into which his words had thrown her. - -"You couldn't do that now," she wailed, "not now you know. They'll be in -very soon now and what could I say if the money was gone? Don't you see -they would send me away in disgrace and Norton would believe that I was -just as bad as they said? Then he'd divorce me and I think my heart -would break." - -"Damn!" muttered Trent. Things were happening in an unexpected fashion. -He tried not to look at her piteous face. - -"Please be kind to me," she begged, "this is your opportunity to do one -great noble thing." - -"It really means so much to you?" he asked. - -"It means everything," she said simply. - -He paced the room for a minute or more. He was fighting a great battle. -There remained in him, despite his mode of living, a certain generosity -of character, a certain fineness bequeathed him by generations of -honorable folk. He saw clearly what the girl meant. She was here to -fight for her happiness and the redemption of the man she loved. How -small a thing, it seemed to him suddenly, was the necessity he had felt -for obtaining the miserable money. What stinging mordant memories would -always be his if he refused her! - -There was a tenderness, a protective look in his eyes when he glanced -down at her. He was his father's son again. - -"It means something to me, too," he told her, "to do as you want, and I -don't believe there's a person on this green earth I'd do it for but -you." - -His hand lingered for a moment on her white shoulder. - -"Good luck, little girl." - -The partly lighted hall full of mysterious shadows awakened no fear in -him as he quietly descended the stairs. And when he came to the avenue -he did not glance up and down as he usually did to see whether or not he -was being followed. - -There was a lightness of heart and an exaltation of spirit which he had -never experienced. It was that happiness which alone comes to the man -who has made a sacrifice. There was never a moment since he had -abandoned fiction that he was nearer to returning to its uncertain -rewards. Pipe after pipe he smoked when he was once more in his quiet -room and asked himself why he had done this thing. There were two -reasons hard to dissociate. First, this wonderful girl had reminded him -of the man he had passionately admired--his father, the father who had -taught him to play fair. And then he was forced to admit he had never -been more drawn to any woman than to this girl, who must, before his -last pipe was smoked, have won her victory or gone down to defeat. Again -and again he told himself that there was no man he envied so much as -Norton Guestwick. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -"THE COUNTESS" - - -The next morning Anthony Trent observed that Mrs. Kinney was filled with -the excitement that attended the reading of an unusual crime as set -forth by the morning papers. It was in those crimes committed in the -higher circles of society which intrigued her most, that society which -she had served. - -As a rule Trent let her wander on feeling that her pleasures were few. -Sometimes he thought it a little curious that she should concern herself -with affairs in which he was sure, sooner or later, to be involved. It -was a relief to know she spoke of them to none but him. He rarely -bothered to follow her rambling recitals, contenting himself now and -again with exclamations of supposed interest. But this morning he was -suddenly roused from his meditations by the mention of the word -Guestwick. - -"What's that?" he demanded. - -"I was telling you about the Guestwick robbery, sir," she said as she -filled his cup. - -He did not as a rule look at the paper until his breakfast was done. To -send her for it now might, later, be used as a chain in the evidence -that might even now be forging for him. He affected a luke-warm -interest. - -"What was it?" he asked. - -"Money mad!" returned Mrs. Kinney, shaking her head. "All money mad. The -root of all evil." - -"A robbery was it?" - -"It was like this," Mrs. Kinney responded, strangely gratified that her -employer found her recital worth listening to. "There was fifty-thousand -dollars in cash in the safe in Mr. Guestwick's library. He's a -millionaire and lives on Fifth Avenue. It's a most mysterious case. The -butler swears his master rang him up and told him to send all the -servants to bed." - -At length Mrs. Kinney recited Briggs's evidence before the police -captain who was hurriedly summoned to the mansion. "They arrested the -butler," said Mrs. Kinney. "Mr. Guestwick says he came from one of those -castles in England where dissolute noblemen do nothing but shoot foxes -all day and play cards all night. The police theory is that the butler -admitted them and then went bed so as to prove an alibi." - -"Mr. Guestwick denies sending any such message?" - -"Yes. He was at the Opera." - -Anthony Trent fought down the desire to rush out into the kitchen and -take the paper from before Mrs. Kinney's plate. She had said that Briggs -was to have admitted more than one person. - -"How many did this suspected butler let in?" - -"Only one, the man. He was in evening dress. Briggs suspected him from -the first, but daren't go against his master's positive instructions. -Briggs, the butler, says the man must have opened the door to his -accomplice when he'd been sent off to bed with instructions not to -answer any bell or telephone. The other was a beautiful young woman -dressed just as she'd come from the Opera herself." - -"Who saw her if Briggs did not?" he demanded. - -"They caught her," Mrs. Kinney returned triumphantly, "and the arrest of -her accomplice is expected any minute. They know who he is." - -Anthony Trent put down his untasted coffee. - -"That's interesting," he commented. "Do they mention his name?" - -"I don't know as they did," she replied. "I'll go fetch the paper." - -He read it through with a deeper interest than he had ever taken in -printed sheet before. Such was Guestwick's importance that two columns -had been devoted to him. - -Mr. Guestwick on returning from the Opera was incensed to find none to -let him in his own house. He was compelled to use a latchkey. The house -was silent and unlighted. Mr. Guestwick, although a man of courage, felt -the safety of his women folk would be better guarded if he called in a -passing policeman. In the library they came face to face with crime. - -There, standing at the closed safe, her skirt caught as the heavy doors -had swung to, was a beautiful woman engaged as they came upon her in -trying to tear off the imprisoning garments. Five minutes later and she -would have escaped said police sapience. - -Finger prints revealed her as a very well-known criminal known to the -continental police as "The Countess." She was one of a high-class gang -which operated as a rule on the French and Italian Riviera, and owed its -success to the ease with which it could assume the manners and customs -of the aristocracy it planned to steal from. "The Countess," for -example, spoke English with a perfection of idiom and inflection that -was unequaled by a foreigner. She was believed to come from an old -family of Tuscany. Despite a rigid examination by the police she had -declined to make any explanation. That, she told them, would be done in -court. - -Anthony Trent looked at the clock. It was nine and she would be brought -before a magistrate at half-past ten. - -So he had been fooled! All those high resolves of his had been brought -into being by a woman who must have been laughing at him all the while, -who must have congratulated herself that her lies had touched a man's -heart and left fifty thousand dollars for her. - -It was a bitter and harder Anthony Trent that came to the police court; -a man who was now almost as ashamed at his determination of last night -to abandon his career as he was now anxious to pursue it. - -There was possibly some danger in going. Briggs would be there. The -woman might point at him in open court. There were a hundred dangers, -but they had no power to deter him. He swore to watch her, gain what -particulars he might as to her past life and associates, and then take -his revenge. God! How she had hoodwinked him! - -His face he must, of course, disguise in some simple manner. It was not -difficult. In court he took a seat not too far back. Chewing gum, as he -had often observed in the subway, had a marvelous power in altering an -expression. He sat there, his lower jaw thrust out and his mouth drawn -down, ceaselessly chewing. And one eye was partially closed. He had -brought the thing to perfection. With shoulders hunched he looked -without fear of detection into the fascinating green eyes of "The -Countess." - -By this time her defense was arranged. Last night, her lawyer explained, -she was so overcome with the shock that she could not make even a simple -statement to the police. - -Miss Violet Benyon, he declared, of London, England, and temporarily at -the Plaza, had felt on the previous evening need for a walk. Knowing -Fifth Avenue to be absolutely safe she walked North. Passing the -Guestwick mansion she saw a man in evening dress stealing down the -steps, across the road and into the Park. Fearing robbery she had rung -the bell. Getting no answer and finding the door open she went in. The -only light was in the library. Of a fearless nature, Miss Benyon of -London went boldly in. There was an open safe. This she closed and in -the doing of it was imprisoned. That was all. The lawyer swept the -finger-prints aside as unworthy evidence. He was appearing before a -neolithic magistrate who was prejudiced against them. - -An imposing old lady who claimed to be Miss Benyon's aunt went bail for -her niece's appearance to the amount of ten thousand dollars. She -mentioned as close friends names of well known Americans, socially -elect, who would rush to her rescue ere the day was out. So impressive -was she, and so splendid a witness did Miss Benyon make, that the -magistrate disregarded Mr. Guestwick's plea and admitted her to bail. - -Trent knew very well that Central Office men would dog the steps of aunt -and niece, making escape almost impossible. But he was nevertheless -convinced that Miss Violet Benyon of London, or the Countess from the -Riviera, would never return to the magistrate's court as that trusting -jurist anticipated. - -And Anthony Trent was right. The two women, despite police surveillance, -left the hotel and merged themselves among the millions. The younger -woman taking advantage of a new maid's inexperience offered her a reward -for permitting her to escape by back ways in order to win, as she -averred, a bet. The aunt's escape was unexplained by the police. They -found awaiting the elder woman's coming a girl from a milliner's shop. -She was allowed to go without examination. Trent read the account very -carefully and stored every published particular in his trained memory. -There was no doubt in his mind that the milliner's assistant was the -so-called aunt. He remembered her as a slim, elderly woman, very much -made-up. - -On his own account he called at the milliner's and made some inquiries. -He found that there was no account with the Benyons and no assistant had -been sent to the hotel. It was none of his business to aid police -authorities. And he was not anxious that the two should be caught in -that way. There would come a time when he was retired from his present -occupation when he would feel the need of excitement. Getting even with -the clever actress who prevented him from taking the Guestwick money -would call for his astutest planning. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -ANTHONY TRENT SAVES A PIANO - - -FOR some months now Trent had been preparing a campaign against the -collection of precious stones belonging to Carr Faulkner whose white -stone mansion looked across the Park from his home. But whereas Trent's -house faced east, the Faulkner abode looked west. And in matter of -residence locality there is an appreciable difference in this outlook. - -The Faulkner millions were in the main inherited. There was a -conservative banking house on Broad Street bearing the Faulkner name but -it did not look for new business and found its principal work in -guarding the vast Faulkner fortune. - -Faulkner's first wife had been a collector of pearls, those modest -stones whose assembled value is always worth the criminal's attention. -The second wife, a young woman of less aristocratic stock, eschewed -pearls, holding the theory that each one was a tear. She wanted flashing -stones which advertised their value more ostentatiously. Trent had seen -her at the Opera and marked her down as a profitable client. - -It was because Trent worked so carefully that he made so few mistakes. -He had no friends to ask him leading questions and gossip about his mode -of life. He had been half a year collecting information about the Carr -Faulkners, the style in which they lived, the intimate friends they had -and a hundred little details which a careful professional must know -before he can hope to make a success. - -The system of burglar alarm installed in the mansion was an elaborate -one but he was not unskilled in matters of this sort. For three months -he had worked in the shop where they were made and his general inborn -mechanical skill had been aided by conscientious study. Attention to -detail had saved him more than once, and is an aid to be counted on more -than luck. - -Yet it was sheer blind, kindly, garrulous luck that finally took Trent -unsuspected into the Carr Faulkner mansion. Riding up Madison avenue in -a trolley car late one afternoon, he overheard one of the Faulkner's -maids discussing the family. - -One of the girls had knocked over a vase of cut flowers which stood on a -grand piano in Mrs. Carr Faulkner's boudoir and the water had leaked -through onto the wire and wood, doing some little damage. - -"She was madder'n a wet hen," said the girl. - -"Them things cost a lot of money," her companion commented, "and that -was inlaid like all the other things in her room. Gee! the way Mr. -Faulkner spends the money on her is a crime." - -"Second wives have a cinch," said the first girl, sneering. "From all I -hear the first was a perfect lady and kind to the maids, but this one is -down-right ordinary. You should have heard what she said about me over -the 'phone when she told the piano people to send a tuner up, and me -standing there. Said I was "clumsy" and "stupid" and "a love-sick fool." -I could tell something about love-sick fools if I wanted to! And she -knows it." - -Her friend cautioned her. - -"Be careful," she whispered, "you may want to lose your job but I don't. -Don't talk so loud." - -It was hardly five o'clock. Anthony Trent left the car and started for a -telephone booth. He went methodically through the lists of the better -known piano makers. There was one firm whose high-priced instrument was -frequently encased in rare woods for specially furnished rooms. - -"This is Mr. Carr Faulkner's secretary speaking," he began when the -number was given to him. "Have you been instructed to see about a piano -here?" - -"We are sending a man right away," he was told. - -"To-morrow morning will do," said the supposed secretary. "We are giving -a small dance to-night and it will not be convenient." - -"We should prefer to send now," came the answer. "A valuable instrument -might be extensively damaged if not attended to right away." - -Trent became confidential. He dropped his voice. - -"It's nothing for Mr. Faulkner to buy a new instrument if it's needed, -but it's a serious thing if a dance that Mrs. Faulkner gives is -interrupted. Money is no consideration here as you ought to know." - -The piano man, remembering the price that was exacted for the special -case, smiled to himself. It would be better for him to sell a new -instrument. It would not surprise him if this affable secretary called -in some fine morning and hinted at commission. Such things had been done -before in the trade. - -"It's just as you say," he returned. "At what hour shall our Mr. Jackson -call?" - -"As soon as he likes after ten," said the obliging Trent, and rang off. - -Then he called up the Carr Faulkner house and told the answering man -servant that Mr. Jackson of Stoneham's would call at half past six. He -was switched on to the private wire of Mrs. Carr Faulkner. - -"It's disgraceful that you can't come before," she stormed. - -"Yours is specially made instrument," he reminded her, "and I need -special tools." - -Then he took the crosstown car to his home and changed into a neat dark -business suit. He also arrayed himself in a brand new shirt and collar. -Mrs. Kinney always washed these, and many a criminal has had his -identity proved by his laundry mark. Trent, like a wise man, admitted -the possibility that some day he might be caught but was determined -never to take the risks that lesser craftsmen hardly thought of. - -Anthony Trent thought it most probable that the Faulkner's butler would -be of the imported species. He hoped so. He found that they were more -easily impressed by good manners and dress than the domestic breed. - -Some day he determined to write an essay on butlers. There was Conington -Warren's bishop-like Austin, cold, severe, aloof. There was Guestwick's -man, the jovial sportsman type molding himself no doubt on some admired -employer of earlier days. - -Faulkner's butler was an amiable creature and inclined to associate with -a piano tuner on equal terms. He had rather fine features and was -admired of the female domestics. His dignity forbade him to indulge in -much familiarity with the men beneath him and he welcomed the -pseudo-tuner as an opportunity to converse. - -"I knew you by your voice," said the butler cordially. "Come in." - -There was little chance that the maid servants behind whom he had sat on -the car would recognize him. Or if they did there was no reason why they -should be suspicious. - -Mrs. Carr Faulkner's boudoir was a delightful room on the third floor. A -little electric, self-operated elevator leading to it was pointed out by -the butler. - -"Not for the likes of you or me," said the man. "We can walk." - -Mrs. Carr Faulkner was a dissatisfied looking blonde woman. In her opera -box surrounded by friends and displaying her famous jewels she had -seemed a vision of loveliness to the gazing far-away Trent. Here in her -own home and dealing with those whom she considered her inferiors, she -made no effort to be even civil. - -"Who is this person?" she demanded of the butler. - -"The man come to look at the piano, ma'am," he returned. - -"You're not Mr. Jackson," she said with abruptness. - -It was plain Jackson was known. Trent blamed himself for not thinking of -this possibility. - -"I am the head tuner," he said with dignity, "we understood it was a -case where the highest skill was needed." - -She looked at him coldly. - -"I don't know that it demands much of what you call skill," she -retorted acidly. "You have come at a singularly inconvenient hour. -Please get to work at once." - -With this she left the room. The butler gazed after her scowling. - -"Do you have to put up with that all day?" Trent asked him. - -"How the boss stands it I don't know," said the butler. - -"Why take it out on a mere piano tuner?" Trent asked. - -The butler winked knowingly. He dug Trent in the ribs with a fine, free -and friendly gesture. - -"Speaking as one man of the world to another," he observed, "I guess you -spoiled a little _tete-a-tete_ as we say in gay Paree. Mr. Carr Faulkner -leaves the Union Club at seven and walks up the Avenue in time to dress -for his dinner at eight. There's another gentleman leaves another club -on the same Avenue and gets here as a rule at six and leaves in time to -avoid the master." The butler leaned forward and whispered in the -tuner's ear, "She's crazy about him. The only man who doesn't know is -the boss. It's always the way," added the self-confessed man of the -world, "I wouldn't trust any woman living. The more they have the worse -they are. If ever I marry I'll take a job as lighthouse keeper and take -my wife along." - -"Will they come in here?" Trent asked anxiously. He wanted the -opportunity to do his own work while the family dined and he did not -want to be seen by an unnecessary person. He disliked taking even a -million to one shot. - -The cynical butler interpreted his interest differently. - -"You won't understand a word of what they're saying. They talk in -French. She was at school in Lausanne and he's a French count, or says -he is. I've made a mistake in scorning foreign languages," the butler -admitted, "I'd give a lot to know what they talk about." He was not to -know that Trent knew French moderately well. - -Left to himself Trent called to mind the actions of a piano tuner. He -had often watched his own grand being tuned. When Mrs. Carr Faulkner -came into the room she beheld an earnest young man delving among the -piano's depths. She was interested in no man but Jules d'Aucquier who -filled her heart and emptied her purse. - -"Is the thing much damaged?" she asked presently. - -"I think not," he replied. - -"Then you need not stay long?" - -"I shall go as soon as possible," he said. - -She sank into a deep chair and thought of Jules. And there came to her -face a softer, happier look. The butler's talk Trent dismissed as mere -servants' gossip. Of Carr Faulkner he knew nothing except that he was -years older than his wife. He was, probably, a wealthy roue who had -coveted this beautiful woman and bought her in marriage. In high society -it was often that way, he mused. Family coercion, perhaps, or the need -to aid impoverished parents. It was being done every day. This man of -whom the butler spoke was probably her own age. Since the stone age this -domestic intrigue must have been going on. - -He touched the keyboard--pianissimo at first and then growing bolder -plunged into the glorious _Liebestod_. It was not the sort of thing Mr. -Jackson would have done but then Anthony Trent was a head tuner as he -had explained. He watched the woman's face to see into what mood the -music would lead her. He was speedily to find out. - -"Stop," she commanded and rising to her feet came to his side. "Why do -you do that?" - -"I must try it," he answered, a little sheepishly, "we always have to -test an instrument." - -"But to play the _Liebestod_" she said severely. "I have heard them all -play it, Bauer, Borwick, Grainger, d'Albert and Hoffman and you dare to -try! It was impertinent of you. Of course if you must play just play -those chords tuners always use." - -Trent admitted afterwards he had never been more angry or felt more -insulted in his life. He had not for a moment supposed this butterfly -woman even knew the name of what he played. - -"I won't offend again," he said with what he hoped was a sarcastic -inflection. She answered never a word. She seemed to be listening. Trent -heard a sound that might have been the opening of the elevator door. -Then came hurried steps along the hall and Jules d'Aucquier entered. - -He was dark to the point of swarthiness, tall and graceful. His rather -small head reminded Trent of a snake's. As a man who knew men Trent -determined that the newcomer was dangerous. The look that he threw -across the room to the intruder was not pleasant. - -He spoke very quickly in French. - -"Who is this?" he demanded. - -"No one who matters," she answered in the same tongue. - -"But what is the pig doing here at this hour?" he asked. - -"Repairing the piano," she told him, "a poor tuner I imagine for the -reason that he plays so well. I had to stop him when he began the -_Liebestod_. It affects me too much. That was being played when you -first looked into my eyes, dear one." - -"Send him away," the man commanded. - -"But that would look suspicious," she declared. - -Trent noticed that Jules did not respond to the affection which was in -the woman's tone. - -"You should not telephone to me at the club," he said as he took a seat -at her side. "I am only a temporary member and do not want to embarrass -my sponsor." - -"But you were so cruel to me yesterday," she murmured. - -"Cruel?" he repeated and turned his cold, snake eyes on her, eyes that -could, when he willed it, glow with fire and passion. "Who is the -crueler, you or I?" - -"What do you mean?" she cried almost tearfully. "You know I love you." - -"And yet when I ask you to do a favor which is easily within your power -to perform you refuse. I must have money; that you know." - -"It is always money now," she complained. "You no longer say that you -love me." - -"How can I when my creditors bark at my heels like hungry dogs? Unless -I pay by to-morrow it is finished. You and I see one another no more, -that is certain." - -He looked at her in annoyed surprise when she suddenly smiled. He -watched her with an even greater interest than the man gazing from -behind the piano. From an escritoire she took a package wrapped in -lavender paper. This she placed in the pocket of the coat that he had -thrown across a chair. - -"What good are cigarettes to me now?" he demanded. "I have told you that -unless I have fifteen thousand dollars by noon to-morrow, I am done." - -"When you get to your rooms," she said, smiling, "open your cigarettes -and see if I do not love you." - -Trent admitted this Jules was undeniably handsome now that the dark face -was wreathed in smiles. Jules gathered her in his arms. - -"My soul," he whispered, and covered her face with kisses. When he -attempted to rise and go to the coat his eyes were staring at, she held -him tight. - -"I got twenty thousand from him," she said. "You will find the twenty -bills each wrapped in the cigarette papers. I pushed the tobacco out and -they fitted in." - -"Wasteful one," he said in tender reproach and sought again to retrieve -his coat. - -Unfortunately for the debonair Jules d'Aucquier this was not immediately -possible. The click of the little elevator was heard. The two looked at -one another in alarm. - -"It must be Carr," she whispered. "Nobody else could possibly use that -elevator now. Somebody has told him." She looked about her in despair. -"You must hide. Quick, behind the piano there until I get him away." - -Trent working industriously amid the wreckage of what had been a grand -piano looked up with polite surprise at the tall man who flung himself -almost at his feet and tried to conceal himself behind part of the -instrument. - -"Hide me, quickly," Jules whispered, "do you hear. I will give you -money. Quick, fool, don't gape at me." - -For the second time that evening Anthony Trent smothered his anger and -smiled when rage was in his heart. And he did so for the second time not -because he was conscious of fear but because he saw himself suitably -rewarded for his efforts. He felt a note thrust into his hand but this -was not the reward he looked for. He was arranging the piano debris -around the prostrate Jules when there was a knock on the door and Carr -Faulkner entered. - -The millionaire's eye fell first of all upon the coat over the chair. - -"Who's is this?" he demanded. - -The pause was hardly perceptible before she answered. - -"I suppose it belongs to the piano man." - -Faulkner looked across at the instrument and beheld the busy Trent -taking what else was possible from the Stoneman. All the king's horses -and all the king's men could not put that instrument together again -easily. Trent went about his business with quiet persistence. - -Carr Faulkner's voice was very courteous and kind as he addressed the -tuner. - -"I'm afraid I must ask you to wait outside in the hall for a few minutes -until I have had a little private talk with my wife." - -"Is that necessary," she said quickly. "I'm just going to dress for -dinner. We have people coming, remember." - -"There is time," he said meaningly. "I left my club half an hour earlier -to-day. Did the change incommode you?" - -"Why should it?" she said lightly. - -Faulkner was a man of middle age with a fine thoughtful face. It was a -face that made an instant appeal to Trent. It mirrored kindliness and -good breeding, and reminded him in a subtle way of his own father, a -country physician who had died a dozen years before his only son left -the way of honest men. - -"A few minutes only," he said and Trent passed out into the hall taking -care to leave the door opened an inch or so. It was necessary for his -peace of mind that he should know what it was Mr. Faulkner had to say to -his wife. It might concern him vitally. It was possible that inquiry at -Stoneman's might have informed Faulkner of his trickery. While this was -improbable Trent was not minded to be careless. This kindly aspect of -the millionaire might be assumed to put him off his guard; even now men -might be stationed at the exits to arrest him. Very quietly he stole -back to the door and listened. - -"I have found out for certain what I have long suspected," Faulkner was -saying to his wife. "It is always the husband who learns last. Don't -protest," he added. "I know too much. I know for example that you have -sold many of your jewels to provide funds for a gambler and a rascal." - -"I don't know what you mean," she cried white-faced. - -"You do," he said, and there was a trace of deep sadness in his voice. -"You know too well. This man Jules d'Aucquier is not of a noble French -family at all. He is a French-Canadian and was formerly a valet to an -English officer of title at Ottawa. It was there he picked up this -smattering of knowledge which has made it easy to fool the -unsuspecting." - -"I don't believe it," she cried vehemently. - -He looked at her sadly. The whole scene was crucifixion for him. - -"I shall prove it," he said quietly. - -"I don't care if you do," she flung back at him. - -"You would care for him just the same?" he asked. - -"I have not said that I care for him at all," she said, a trace of -caution creeping into her manner. - -"I shall give you the opportunity to prove it one way or another within -a few minutes. We have come to the parting of the ways." - -It was at this moment Anthony Trent knocked timidly upon the door. The -stage was set to his liking. When he was bidden to enter his quick eye -took in everything. There, out of sight d'Aucquier skulked while he -prepared to hear his despicable history told to the woman who was his -victim. As for the woman she was defiant. She would probably elect to -follow a scoundrel who had fascinated her and leave a man behind whose -good name she had trailed in the dust. The situation was not a new one -but Trent was moved by it. Carr Faulkner had all his sympathy. He -registered a vow if ever he met d'Aucquier, or whatever his name might -be, to exact a punishment. - -"Excuse me," said Anthony Trent, stepping into the room, "but my train -leaves in twenty minutes--I live out in Long Island--and I've got to -catch it or else the missus will be worrying." - -Mrs. Faulkner looked at him frowning. She wanted to get this scene over. -He was a good looking piano tuner, she decided, and now his tragedy was -plain. He who had no doubt once aimed at the concert stage tuned pianos -to support a wife and home in Long Island! - -"I'll finish the job to-morrow morning." - -She waved him toward the door imperiously. Every moment she and her -husband spent in this room added to the chance of the hiding man's -discovery. - -"Why don't you go?" she cried. - -Anthony Trent permitted himself to smile faintly. - -"I've come for my coat, Ma'am," he said, and glanced at the raiment -d'Aucquier had thrown carelessly over a chair, the coat now laden with -such precious cigarettes. - -Carr Faulkner was growing impatient at this interruption. He could not -understand the look of anger on his wife's face. - -"Don't you understand," he exclaimed, "that the man merely wants to go -home and take his coat with him?" - -He turned to the deferential Trent. - -"All right, all right," Trent moved to the chair and took the garment. -At the door he turned about and bowed profoundly. - -In the lower hall he found the cynical butler whose ideas on matrimony -were so decided. He startled that functionary by thrusting into his hand -the ten dollars d'Aucquier had forced upon him. - -"What's this for?" demanded the butler. When piano tuners came with -gifts in their hands he was suspicious. "I don't understand this." He -observed that the affability which had made the tuner seem kin to -himself was vanished. A different man now looked at him. - -"It's for you," said Trent. "I'm not a piano tuner. I'm a detective and -I came here after that ex-valet who pretends to be a French nobleman." - -The butler breathed hard. - -"I 'ate that man, sir," he said simply. "I'd like to dot him one." - -"You'll be able to and that within five minutes," Trent assured him. "He -is concealed behind the lid of the grand piano I was supposed to repair. -Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner are both in the room but _he_ doesn't know Jules -is there. You take two footmen and yank him out and then if you want to -'dot him one' or two, there's your chance." - -The muscles of the butler's big shoulders swelled with anticipation. -"Where are you going?" he asked of Trent, now making for the front door. - -"To get the patrol wagon," said Anthony Trent. - -"How long will you be?" asked the man. - -"I shall be back in no time," Trent answered cryptically. - -Arrived in his quiet rooms he undid the box of cigarettes. At first he -thought he had been fooled for the top layer of cigarettes were -tobacco-filled and normal. - -But it was on the next row that Mrs. Carr Faulkner had expended her -trouble. Each one contained a new thousand dollar bill and their tint -enthralled him. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -ESPIONAGE AT CLOSE RANGE - - -CASHING a modest check at the Colonial bank one morning, Trent had -fallen in line with a queue at the paying teller's window. He made it a -point to observe what went on while he waited. He was not much -interested in bank robberies. To begin with the American Bankers' -Association is a vengeful society pursuing to the death such as mulct -its clients. Furthermore, a successful bank robbery, unless the work of -an inside man, needs careful planning and collaboration. - -On this particular morning Trent saw a stout and jocund gentleman push -his check across the glass entrance to the cashier's cave and received -without hesitation a large sum of money. He passed the time of day with -the official, climbed into a limousine and was whirled up Broadway. - -"Did yer see that?" a youth demanded who stood before Trent. - -"What?" he asked quietly. It was not his pose to be interested in other -of the bank's customers. - -"That guy took out twenty thousand dollars," the boy said, reverence in -his tone. - -"That's a lot of money," said Trent. - -"He lives well," said the lad. "I ought to know, he gets his groceries -from us and he only eats and drinks the best." - -"He looks like it," the other said genially. If the stout and jocund -gourmet had known what was in Trent's mind he would have hied him back -to the bank and redeposited his cash. "It's Rudolf Liebermann, isn't -it?" - -"That's Frederick Williams, and he lives on Ninety-third, near the -Drive." - -What additional information Trent wanted to know might be obtained from -other than this boy. To make many inquiries might, if Frederick Williams -were relieved of his roll, bring back the incident to the grocer's boy. - -Directly dusk fell Anthony Trent, in the evening garb of fashion, -crossed over to Riverside Drive and presently came to the heroic statue -of Jeanne d'Arc which stands at the foot of Ninety-third Street. By this -time he knew the license number of the Williams' limousine and the -address. It was one of those small residences of gray stone containing a -dozen rooms or so. Such houses, as he knew, were usually laid out on a -similar plan and he was familiar with it. - -It was very rarely that he made a professional visit to a house without -having a definite plan of attack carefully worked out. This was the -first time he sought to gain entrance to a strange house on the mere -chance of success. But the twenty thousand dollars in crisp notes -tempted him. In his last affair he had netted this sum in notes of a -similar denomination and he was superstitious enough to feel that this -augured well for to-night's success. - -Careful as ever, Trent had made his alibis in case of failure. In one of -his pockets was a pint flask of Bourbon, empty save for a dram of -spirit. In another was a slip of paper containing the name of the -house-holder who occupied a house with the same number as that of -Williams, but on Ninety-fifth Street. Once before he had saved himself -by this ruse. He had protested vigorously when detected by a footman -that he was merely playing a practical joke on his old college chum who -lived, as he thought, in this particular house, but was found to be on -the next block. And in this case the emptied whiskey flask and the -cheerful tipsiness of the amiable young man of fashion--Trent's most -successful pose--saved him. - -In his pockets nothing would be found to incriminate him. He knew well -the folly of carrying the automatic so beloved of screen or stage -Raffles. In the first place, the sudden temptation to murder in a tight -pinch, and in the second the Sullivan law. In the bamboo cane, carefully -concealed, were slender rods of steel whose presence few would suspect. -He had left such a cane in Senator Scrivener's Fifth Avenue mansion when -he was compelled to make an unrehearsed exit. Once he met the Senator -coming down the steps of the Union Club with this cane in his hand. He -chuckled to think what might be that worthy's chagrin to know he had -been carrying burglar's tools with him. - -As there was little light on the lower floor of Frederick Williams' -house, Trent let himself in cautiously. There was a dim hanging light -which showed that the Williams idea of furnishing was in massive bad -taste. At the rear of the hall were the kitchens. Under the swinging -door he could see a bright light. The stairs were wide and did not -creak. Carefully he ascended them and stood breathless in a foyer -between the two main reception-rooms. There were voices in the rear -room, which should, if Williams conformed to the majority of dwellers in -such houses, be the dining-room. Big doors shut out view and sound until -he crept nearer and peeped through a keyhole. He could see Williams -sitting in a Turkish rocker smoking a cigar. There were two other men -and all three chattered volubly in German. Unfortunately it was a tongue -of which the listener knew almost nothing. Reasonably fluent in French, -the comprehension of German was beyond him. There was a small safe in -the corner and it was not closed. Trent felt certain that in it reposed -those notes he had come for. - -In the corner of the foyer was a carven teakwood table with a glass top, -and on it was a large Boston fern. It would be easy enough to crouch -there unobserved. The only possibility of discovery was the remote -contingency that Williams and his friends might choose to use this -foyer. But Trent had seen that it was not furnished as a sitting-room. - -He had barely determined on his hiding place when he found the sudden -necessity to use it. Williams arose quickly and advanced to the door. -When he threw it open the path of light left the unbidden one completely -obscured. The three men passed by him and entered the drawing-room in -front. Trent caught a view of a luxuriously overfurnished room and a -grand piano. Then Williams began to play a part of a Brahms sonata so -well that Trent's heart warmed toward him. But his appreciation of the -master did not permit him to listen to the whole movement. He crept -cautiously from his cover and into the room the three had just vacated. -If there were other of Williams' friends or family here Trent might be -called upon to exercise his undoubted talents. One man he would not -hesitate to attack since his working knowledge of jiu-jitsu was beyond -the average. If there were two, attack would be useless in the absence -of a revolver. But if the coast were clear--ah, then, a competence, all -the golf and fishing he desired. There would be only the Countess to -deal with at his leisure. - -The room was empty, but _the safe was closed_! Williams was not devoid -of caution. A glance at the thing showed Trent that in an uninterrupted -half hour he could learn its secrets. But he could hardly be assured of -that at nine o'clock at night. His very presence in the room was fraught -with danger. The one door leading from it opened into a butler's pantry -from which a flight of stairs led into the kitchen part of the house. -Downstairs he could hear faucets running. A dumbwaiter offered a way of -escape if he were put to it. To the side of the dumbwaiter was a -zinc-lined compartment used for drying dishes. It was four feet long and -three in height and a shelf bisected it. This he took out carefully and -placed upon the floor of the compartment, making an ample space for -concealment. A radiator opened into it, giving the heat desired, and two -iron gratings in the doors afforded Trent the opportunity to overhear -what might be said. He satisfied himself that the doors opened -noiselessly. The burglar's role was not always an heroic one, he told -himself, and thought of the popular misconception of such activities. - -It must have been an hour later when he heard sounds in the adjoining -room. By this time he was fighting against the drowsiness induced by -the heat of his prison. - -The swinging door between the butler's pantry and the dining-room was -thrown open and Williams came in. He leaned over the staircase and -shouted something in German to some one in the kitchen, who answered him -in the same tongue. There was the sound below of locking and bolting the -doors. The servants had evidently been sent to bed. - -When Williams went back to the other room the door between did not swing -to by four or five inches. So far as Williams was concerned this -carelessness was to cost him more than he guessed. Even in his hiding -place the conversation was audible to Trent, although its meaning was -incomprehensible. - -He was suddenly awakened to a more vivid interest when he became aware -that it was now English that they were talking. There was a newcomer in -the room, a man with a nasal carrying voice and a prodigious brogue. - -"This, gentlemen," he heard Williams say, "is Mr. O'Sheill, who has done -so much good work for us and for the freedom of oppressed, starving, -shackled Ireland, which we shall free. I may tell Mr. O'Sheill that the -highest personages in the Fatherland weep bitter tears for Ireland's -wrongs." - -"That's all right," said the Sinn Feiner a trifle ungraciously, "but -what's behind yonder door?" - -For answer one of the other men flung it open, turned up the lights and -permitted Mr. O'Sheill to make his examination. Trent heard the man's -heavy tread as he descended the stairway and found at the bottom a -locked door. - -"You've got to be careful," O'Sheill said when he rejoined Williams and -the rest. "These damned secret service men are everywhere, they tell -me." - -"That is why we have rented a private house," one of the Germans -declared. "At an hotel privacy is impossible. We have had our -experiences." - -These scraps of conversation aroused Anthony Trent immediately. It -required only a cursory knowledge of the affairs of the moment for a -duller man than he to realize that he had come across the scent of one -of those plots which were so hampering his government in their -prosecution of the war. Very cautiously he crawled from his hiding place -and made his silent way to the barely opened door. - -O'Sheill was lighting a large cigar. His was a suspicious, dour face. -Williams, urbane and florid, was very patient. - -"That I do not tell you the names of my colleagues," he said, "is of no -moment. It is sufficient to say that you have the honor to be in the -presence of one of the most illustrious personages in my country." Here -he bowed in the direction of a small, thin, dapper man who did not -return the salutation. - -"I came for the money," said O'Sheill. - -"You came first for your instructions," snapped the illustrious -personage coldly. - -"That's so, yer Honor," O'Sheill answered. There was something menacing -in the tone of the other man and he recognized it. - -"This money," said Williams, "is given for very definite purposes and an -accounting will be demanded." - -"Ain't you satisfied with the way I managed it at Cork?" O'Sheill -demanded. - -"It was a beginning," Williams conceded. "Here is what you must do: -Wherever along the Irish coast the English bluejackets and the American -sailors foregather you must stir up bad blood. I do not pretend to give -you any more precise direction than this. Let the Americans understand -that the British call them cowards. Let the British think the same of -the Yankees. Let there be bitter street fights, not in obscure drinking -dens, but in the public streets in the light of day. I will see to it -that the news gets back here and let Americans have something to think -about when the next draft is raised. Find men in England to do what you -must do in your own country. Let there be black blood between Briton and -American from Belfast to Portsmouth. Let there be doubt and -recrimination so that preparations are hindered here." - -The man who passed as Williams looked venomous as he said this. The man -to whom he spoke, thinking in his ignorance that he was indeed helping -his native land instead of hurting it, and forgetful that in aiding the -enemies of America he was stabbing a country which had ever been a -faithful friend of Erin's, gave particulars of his operations which -Trent memorized as best he might. He was appalled to hear to what length -these men were prepared to go if only the good relations between the -Allies might be brought to naught. - -So engrossed was he with the importance of what he heard that the -passing of the large sum of money from Williams to the Sinn Feiner lost -much of its entrancing interest. Trent meant to have the money, but he -intended also to give the Department of Justice what help he could. - -It was not the first time that he had gone from one floor to another by -means of a dumbwaiter. It was never an easy operation and rarely a -noiseless one. In this instance he was fortunate in finding well-oiled -pulleys. It was only when he stepped out in the kitchen that he ran into -danger. There was a man asleep on a folding bed which had been drawn -across the door. To leave by the front door immediately was imperative. -Even were it possible to leave by a rear entrance he would find himself -in the little garden at the back and could only get out by climbing a -dozen fences. This would be to court observation and run unnecessary -risks. - -To invite electrocution by killing men was no part of Anthony Trent's -practice. It was plain that the servant was slumbering fitfully and the -act of stepping over him to freedom likely to awaken him instantly. Even -if he had the needed rope at hand binding and gagging a vigorous man was -at best a matter of noise and struggle. But something had to be done. He -must reach the street in time to follow O'Sheill. - -Superimposed on the bed's frame was a mattress and army blanket. -Directly behind the sleeper's head was a door which led, as Trent knew -from his knowledge of house design, to the cellar. It opened inward and -without noise. He bent quietly over the man, put his hands gently -beneath the mattress and then with a tremendous effort flung him, -mattress, army blanket and all, down the cellar stairs. There was a -clatter of breaking bottles, a cry that died away almost as it was -uttered, and then the door was shut on silence. - - * * * * * - -A little later Williams, feeling the need for iced beer and cheese -sandwiches, rang the bell for Fritz. When he received no answer he -descended to the kitchen with the intention of buffeting soundly a man -who could so forget his duties to his superiors. Mr. Williams found only -the bare bed. Fritz, with his bedding, had disappeared. - -A front door unlocked when instructions had been exact as to the -necessity of its careful fastening at all hours, brought uneasy -conjectures to his mind. It was only so long as he and his companions -were invested with the immunity of neutrality that he was of value to -his native land. Of late he had been conscious of Secret Service -activities. - -Obedient to his training, Williams instantly reported the matter to the -thin, acid-faced man under whose instructions he had been commanded to -act. - -"They have taken Fritz away," he cried. - -"Who?" demanded his superior. - -"The Secret Service," said Williams wildly. He was now beginning to -ascribe aggressive skill to a service at which he had formerly sneered. - -Going down to the kitchen, they were startled by a feeble cry from the -cellar. There they discovered the frightened Fritz, cut about the face -from the bottles he had broken in his fall. His injuries gave him less -concern than the admission he had slept at his post. He was, therefore, -of no aid to them. - -"I do not know," he repeated as they questioned him. "There must have -been many of them. One man alone could not do it." - -The thin man turned to Williams: "This O'Sheill is in danger. Arm -yourself and go to his hotel. It will go badly with you if harm comes to -him." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE SINN FEIN PLOT - - -FORTUNATELY for O'Sheill's peace of mind, he left the house before -Williams made his discovery. He stepped into the street painfully -conscious of the large sum of money he carried. It seemed to him that -every man looked at him suspiciously. A request for a match was met with -an oath and the two women who asked him the location of a certain hotel -drew back nervously at his scowl. - -He boarded the Elevated at the Ninety-third Street station and alighted -at Ninth Avenue and Forty-second Street, still glancing about him -suspiciously. It was not until he was in his room on the top floor of a -cheap and old hotel on the far West Side that he ventured to feel safe. -He sighed with relief as he stuffed a Dublin clay with malodorous shag. -Twenty thousand dollars! Four thousand pounds! Some would go to the -traitorous work he was employed to prosecute, but a lot of it would go -to satisfy private hates. And when it was exhausted there would be more -to come. It would be easy to conceal the notes about his person, and, -anyway, he reflected, he was not under suspicion. - -He was aroused from his reveries by the sudden, gentle tapping on his -door. After a few seconds of hesitation he called out: - -"What is it ye want?" - -The voice that answered him was strongly tinged with the German accent -to which he had recently become used. It will not be forgotten that -Anthony Trent had a genius for mimicry. - -"I'm from Mr. Williams," said the stranger gutturally. He had followed -O'Sheill with no difficulty. - -"What's your name?" O'Sheill demanded. - -"We won't give names," Trent reminded him significantly. "But I can -prove my identity. I was in the house at Ninety-third Street when you -came. The money was given you to stir up trouble in Ireland and -circulate rumors that will embarrass the British government and made bad -blood between English and American sailors. You have twenty -one-thousand-dollar bills and you put them in a green oilskin package." - -"That's right," O'Sheill admitted, "but what do you want?" - -He was filled with a vague uneasiness. This young man seemed so terribly -in earnest and his eyes darted from door to window and window to door as -though he feared interruption. - -"Mr. Williams sent me here to see if you had been followed. Directly you -went we had information from an agent of ours that your visit was known -to the Secret Service. Tell me, did any person speak to you on your way -here?" - -"No," answered O'Sheill, now thoroughly nervous by the other's anxiety. - -"Are you sure?" he was asked. - -"There was one fellow who asked me for a light, but I told him to go to -hell and get it." - -"Anything suspicious about him?" Trent demanded. - -"Not that I could see." - -"That will be good news for Mr. Williams," Trent returned. "Our agent -said the Hunchback was on the job." - -"Who's he?" O'Sheill said. - -"One of our most dangerous enemies," the younger man retorted. "He's a -man of forty, but looks younger. He had one shoulder higher than the -other and he limps when he walks. He's the man we're afraid of. I think -we have alarmed ourselves unnecessarily." - -O'Sheill's face was no longer merely uneasy. He was terror-stricken. - -"And I guess we haven't," he exclaimed. "_The man who asked me for a -light was a hunchback._ There was two women who asked me the way to some -blasted hotel. They looked at me as if they wanted never to forget my -face." - -"Stop a minute," said Trent gravely. "Answer me exactly about these -women. I want to know in what danger we all stand. The only two women -known by sight to us who are likely to be put on a case of this kind -wouldn't look like detectives. There's Mrs. Daniels and Miss Barrett. -They work as mother and daughter. Mrs. Daniels is gray-haired, tall and -slight, with a big nose for a woman and eyes set close together. When -she looks at you it seems as if the eyes were gimlets. The girl is -pretty, reddish hair and laughing eyes." Trent paused for a moment to -think of any other attributes he could ascribe to the unknown women he -had directed to their hotel just after O'Sheill had scowled at them a -half hour back. "And very white little teeth." - -"My God!" cried O'Sheill, his arms dropping at his side, "that's them to -the life! What's going to happen to me?" - -"If they find you with that money you'll be deported and handed over to -your British friends. How can you explain having twenty thousand -dollars? Mr. Williams thought of that, but he didn't actually know they -were on your trail. You must give me the money. I shan't be stopped. You -are to stay here. They may be here in five minutes or they may wait till -morning, but you may be certain that you won't be allowed to get away. -You must claim to be just over here to get an insight into labor -conditions." Mr. Williams' messenger chuckled. "I don't believe they can -get anything on you." - -"But if they do?" O'Sheill demanded. It seemed to him that the -stranger's levity was singularly ill-timed. - -"If they do," Trent advised, "you must remember that you're a British -subject still--whether you like it or not--and you have certain -inalienable rights. Immediately appeal to the British authorities. Give -the Earl of Reading some work to do. Make the Consul-General here stir -himself. Tell them you came over here to investigate labor conditions. -That story goes any time and just now it's fashionable. As an Irishman -you'll have far more consideration from the British Government than if -you were merely an Englishman." - -"But what about this money?" O'Sheill queried uneasily. - -"I'll take it," Trent told him. "If it's found on you nothing can do you -any good. You'll do your plotting in a British jail." - -O'Sheill was amazed at the careless manner in which this large sum was -thrust into the other man's pocket. Surely these accomplices of his -dealt in big things. - -"When you're ready to sail you can get it back," Trent continued. "That -can be arranged later. Meanwhile don't forget my instructions. Be -indignant when you are searched. Call on the British Ambassador." Trent -paused suddenly. An idea had struck him. "By the way," he went on, "you -have other things that would get you into trouble beside that money." - -"I know it," O'Sheill admitted. "What am I to do with them?" - -"I'm taking a chance if they are found on me," the younger man -commented. "But they are not after me. Give me what you have," he cried. - -Into this keeping the frightened O'Sheill confided certain letters which -later were to prove such an admirable aid to the United States -Government. - -It was as Trent turned to the door that he heard steps coming along the -passage as softly as the creaking boards permitted. - -He placed his fingers on his lips and enjoined silence. The furtive -sound completed O'Sheill's distress. He felt himself entrapped. Trent -saw him take from his hip pocket a revolver. - -"Not yet," he whispered. "Wait." - -He turned down the gas to a tiny glimmer. Through the transom the -stronger light in the passage was seen. It was but a slight effort for -the muscular Trent to draw himself up so that he could peer through the -transom at the man tapping softly at the door. - -Unquestionably it was Williams, and the hand concealed in his right hand -coat pocket was no doubt gripping the butt of an automatic. He was a man -of great physical strength, that Trent had noted earlier in the evening. -Although of enormous strength himself, and a boxer and wrestler, he knew -he would stand no chance if these two discovered his errand. There was -no other exit than the door. - -Anthony Trent stepped silently to O'Sheill's side. - -"It's the Hunchback," he whispered. "If once he gets those long fingers -around your throat you're gone. Listen to me. I'm going to turn the gas -out. Then I shall open the door. When he rushes in get him. If he gets -you instead I'll be on the top of him and we'll tie him up. Ready?" - -The prospect of a fight restored O'Sheill's spirits. Every line of his -evil face was a black menace to Friedrich Wilhelm outside. - -"Don't use your revolver," Anthony Trent cautioned. - -"Why?" O'Sheill whispered. - -"We can't stand police investigation," said the other. "Get ready now -I'm going to open the door." - -When he flung it open Williams stepped quickly in. O'Sheill maddened at -the very thought that any one imperiled his money, could only see, in -the dim light, an enemy. The first blow he struck landed fair and square -on the Prussian nose. On his part Williams supposed the attack a -premeditated one. O'Sheill was playing him false. The pain of the blow -awoke his own hot temper and made him killing mad. He sought to get his -strong arms about the Sinn Feiner's throat. - -It was while they thrashed about on the floor that Anthony Trent made -his escape. He closed the door of the room carefully and locked it from -the outside. Then he unscrewed the electric bulb that lit the hall. None -saw him pass into the street. It was one of his triumphant nights. - -Next morning at breakfast he found Mrs. Kinney much interested in the -city's police news as set forth in the papers. - -He was singularly cheerful. - -"What is it?" he demanded. "Some very dreadful crime?" - -"A double murder," she told him, "and the police don't seem to be able -to figure it out at all." - -Trent sipped his coffee gratefully. - -"What's strange about that?" he demanded. - -"I don't see," Mrs. Kinney went on, "what a gentleman like this Mr. -Williams seems to have been----" - -Anthony Trent put down his cup. - -"What's his other name?" he inquired. - -"Frederick," said the interested Mrs. Kinney. "Frederick Williams, a -Holland Dutch gentleman living in Ninety-third Street near the Drive. He -aided the Red Cross and bought Liberty Bonds. What I want to know is why -he went to a low place like the Shipwrights Hotel to see a man named -O'Sheill from Liverpool, England?" - -"A double murder?" he demanded. - -"Here it is," she returned, and showed him the paper. The two men had -been found dead, the report ran, under mysterious circumstances, but the -police thought a solution would quickly be found. Anthony Trent smiled -as he read of official optimism. He was inclined to doubt it. - -When Mrs. Kinney was out shopping he read through the documents he had -taken from O'Sheill. They seemed to him to be of prime importance. There -was a list of American Sinn Feiners implicating men in high positions, -men against whom so far nothing detrimental was known. Outlines of plots -were made bare to embroil and antagonize Britain and the United -States--allies in the great cause--and all that subtle propaganda which -had nothing to do with the betterment of prosperous Ireland but -everything to do with Prussian aggrandizement. It was a poisonous -collection of documents. - -The chief of the Department of Justice in New York was called up from a -public station and informed that a messenger was on his way with very -important papers. The chief was warned to make immediate search of the -premises at Ninety-third Street where a highly important German spy -might be captured. - -In the evening papers Anthony Trent was gratified to learn that the -highly-born, thin, haughty person was none other than the Baron von -Reisende who had received his _conge_ with Bernstorff and was thought to -be in the Wilmhelmstrasse. He had probably returned by way of Mexico. - -And certain politicians of the baser sort were sternly warned against -plotting the downfall of America's allies. Altogether Trent had done a -good night's work for his country. As for himself twenty thousand -dollars went far toward making the total he desired. - -Consistent success in such enterprises as his was leading him into a -feeling that he would not be run to earth as had been those lesser -practitioners of crime who lacked his subtlety and shared their secrets -with others. - -But there was always the chance that he had been observed when he -thought he was alone in some great house. Austin, the Conington Warren -butler, looked him full in the face on his first adventure. And that -other butler who served the millionaire whose piano he had wrecked -might, some day, place a hand on his shoulder and denounce him to the -world. Yet butlers were beings whose duties took them little abroad. -They did not greatly perturb him. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -ANTHONY TRENT INTERESTS HIMSELF IN POLICE GOSSIP - - -SO far as he knew, none suspected him. His face had been seen on one or -two occasions, but he was of a type common among young Americans of the -educated classes. Above middle height, slenderly fashioned but -wire-strong, he had a shrewd, humorous face with strongly marked -features. It might be that the nose was a trifle large and the mouth a -trifle tight, but none looking at him would say, "There goes a -criminal." They would say, rather, "There goes a resourceful young -business man who can rise to any emergency." - -Since Trent had calculated everything to a nicety, he knew he must, -during these harvesting years, deny himself the privilege of friendship -with other men or women. Too many of his gild had lost their liberty -through some errant desire to be confidential. This habit of solitude -was trying to a man naturally of a sociable nature, but he determined -that it could be cast from him as one throws away an old coat when he -was a burglar emeritus. - -That blessed moment had arrived. He even looked up an old editor friend, -the man who had first put into his mind that he could make more money at -burglary than in writing fiction. - -"It's good to see you again!" cried the editor. "I often wish you -hadn't been left money by that Australian uncle of yours, so that you -could still write those corking crook yarns for us. There was never any -one like you. I was talking about you at the Scribblers' Club dinner the -other night." - -Trent frowned. Publicity was a thing to avoid and this particular editor -had always been ready to sound his praise. The editor had once before -asked him to join this little club made up of professional writers. They -were men he would have delighted to know under other conditions. - -"Be my guest next Tuesday," the editor persisted. "I'm toastmaster and -the subject is 'Crime in Fiction.' I told the boys I'd get you to speak -if I possibly could. I'm counting on you. Will you do it?" - -It seemed a deliciously ironical thing. Here was an honest editor asking -the friend he did not know to be a master criminal to make an address on -crime in fiction. Trent laughed the noiseless laugh he had cultivated in -place of the one that was in reality the expression of himself. The -editor thought it a good sign. - -"Who are the other speakers?" Trent demanded. - -"Oppenheim Phelps for one. He's over here on a visit. His specialty is -high-grade international spy stuff, as you know. E. W. Hornung would be -the man to have if we could get him, but that's impossible. I've got -half a dozen others, but Phelps and you will be the drawing cards." - -"Put me down," Trent said genially, "but introduce me as a back number -almost out of touch with things but willing to oblige a pal." He laughed -again his noiseless laugh. - -Crosbeigh looked at him meditatively. Certainly Anthony Trent was -changed. In the old days, before he came into Australian money, he was -at times jocund with the fruitful grape, a good fellow, a raconteur, one -who had been popular at school and college and liked to stand well with -his fellows. But now, Crosbeigh reflected, he was changed. There was a -certain suspicion about him, a lack of trust in men's motives. It was -the attitude no doubt which wealth brought. The moneyless man can meet a -borrower cheerfully and need cudgel his mind for no other excuse than -his poverty. - -Crosbeigh was certain Trent had a lot of money for the reason he had -actually refused four cents a word for what he had previously received -only two cents. But the editor admired his old contributor and was glad -to see him again. - -"I'm going to spring a surprise on you," Crosbeigh declared, "and I'm -willing to bet you'll enjoy it." - -"I hope so," Trent returned, idly, and little dreamed what lay before -him. - -The dinner was at a chop house and the food no worse than the run of -city restaurants. Anthony Trent, who had fared delicately for some time, -put up with the viands readily enough for the pleasure of being again -among men of the craft which had been his own. - -Oppenheim Phelps was interesting. He was introduced as a historian who -had made his name at fiction. It was a satisfaction, he said, to find -that modern events had justified him. The reviewers had formerly treated -him with patronizing airs; they had called his secret diplomacy and -German plot-stuff as chimeras only when they had shown themselves to be -transcripts, and not exaggerated ones at that, of what had taken place -during the last few years. - -Anthony Trent sat next to the English novelist and liked him. It brought -him close to the war to talk to a man whose home had been bombed from -air and submarine. And Phelps was also a golfer and asked Trent, when -the war was over, to visit his own beloved links at Cromer. - -It had grown so late when the particularly prosy member of the club had -made his yawn-bringing speech, that Crosbeigh came apologetically to -Trent's side. - -"I'm afraid, old man," he began, "that it's too late for any more -speeches except the surprise one. A lot of us commute. Do you mind -speaking at our next meeting instead?" - -"Not a bit," Trent said cheerfully. But he felt as all speakers do under -these circumstances that his speech would have been a brilliant one. He -had coined a number of epigrams as other speakers had plowed laboriously -along their lingual way and now they were to be still-born. - -But he soon forgot them when Crosbeigh announced the surprise speaker. - -"I have been very fortunate," Crosbeigh began, "in getting to-night a -man who knows more of the ways of crooks than any living authority. -Gentlemen, you all know Inspector McWalsh!" - -"Well, boys," said the Inspector, "I guess a good many of you know me by -name." He had risen to his full height and looked about him genially. He -had imbibed just the right amount to bring him to this stage. Three -highballs later, he would be looking for insults but he was now ripe -with good humor. He had come because Conington Warren had asked him to -oblige Crosbeigh. For writers on crime he had the usual contempt of the -professional policeman and he was fluent in his denunciation. "You -boys," he went on, "make me smile with your modern scientific criminals, -the guys what use chemistry and electricity and x-rays and so forth. -I've been a policeman now for thirty years and I never run across any of -that stuff yet." - -Inspector McWalsh poured his unsubtle scorn on such writings for ten -full minutes. But he added nothing to the Scribblers' knowledge of his -subject. - -It chanced that the writer he had taken as his victim was a guest at the -dinner. This fictioneer pursued the latest writings on physicist and -chemical research so that he might embroider his tales therewith. -Personally Trent was bored by this artificial type of story; but as -between writer and policeman he was always for the writer. - -The writer was plainly angry but the gods had not blessed him with a -ready tongue and he was prepared to sit silent under McWalsh's scorn. -Some mischievous devil prompted Anthony Trent to rise to his aid. It was -a bold thing to do, to draw the attention of the man who had been in -charge of the detectives sent to run him to earth, but of late -excitement had been lacking. - -"Inspector McWalsh," he commenced, "possesses precisely that type of -mind one would expect to find in a successful policeman. He has that -absolute absence of imagination without which one cannot attain his rank -in the force. All he has done in his speech is to pour his scorn of a -certain type of crime story on its author. As writers we are sorry if -Inspector McWalsh never heard of the Einthoven string galvanometer upon -which the solution of the story he ridicules rests, yet we know it to -exist. Were I a criminal instead of a writer I should enjoy to cross -swords with men who think as the Inspector does. I could outguess them -every time." - -"Who is this guy?" Inspector McWalsh demanded loudly. - -"Anthony Trent," Mr. Crosbeigh whispered. "He wrote some wonderful crook -stories a few years ago dealing with a crook called Conway Parker." - -"What one would expect to hear from a man with McWalsh's opportunities -to deal with crime is some of the difficulty he experiences in his work. -There must be difficulty. We know by statistics what crimes are -committed and what criminals brought to justice. What happens to the -crooks who remain safe from arrest by reason of superior skill? I'll -tell you, gentlemen. They live well and snap their fingers at men like -the last speaker. There is such a thing as fatty degeneration of the -brain----" - -Inspector McWalsh rose to his feet with a roar. "I didn't come here to -be insulted." - -"I am not insulting a guest," Trent went on equably, "I am asking him to -tell us interesting things of his professional work instead of giving -his opinion on modern science. I met McWalsh years ago when I covered -Mulberry Street for the _Morning Leader_. He was captain then. Let him -entertain us with some of the reasons why the Ashy Bennet murderer was -never caught. You remember, gentlemen, that Bennet was shot down on -Park Row at midday. Then the thoroughbred racer Foxkeen was poisoned in -his stall at Sheepshead Bay. Why was that crime never punished? I -remember a dozen others where the police have been beaten. Coming down -to the present time, there is the robbery of the house of the genial -sportsman Inspector McWalsh tells us he is proud to call his friend, -Conington Warren. How was it the burglar or burglars were allowed to -escape?" Trent was enjoying himself hugely. "I have a right to demand -protection of the New York police. In my own humble home I have -valuables bequeathed me by an uncle in Australia which are never safe -while such men as snap their fingers at the police are at large. Let -Inspector McWalsh tell us why his men fail. It will help us, perhaps, to -understand the difficulties under which they labor. It may help us to -appreciate the silent unadvertised work of the police. The Inspector is -a good sport who loves a race horse and a good glove fight as much as I -do myself. I assure him he will make us grateful if he will take the -hint of a humble scribbler." - -The applause which followed gratified the Inspector enormously. He -thought it was evidence of his popularity, a tribute to his known -fondness for the race tracks. His anger melted. - -"Boys," he shouted, rising to his feet and waving a Larranaga to the -applauders, "I guess he's right and I hope the fellow who writes that -scientific dope will accept my word that it wasn't personal. Of course -we do have difficulties. I admit it. I had charge of that Ashy Bennet -murder and I'd give a thousand dollars to be able to put my hand on the -man who done it. As to Foxkeen I had a thousand on him to win at -eight-to-one and when he was poisoned the odds were shortening every -minute so you can guess I was sore on the skunk who poisoned him. The -police of all countries fail and they fail the most in countries where -people have most sympathy with crime. Boys, you know you all like a -clever crook to get away with it. It's human nature. We ain't helped all -we could be and you know it. We, 'gentlemen of the police,'" he quoted -Austin's words glibly, "we make mistakes sometimes. We get the ordinary -crook easy enough. If you don't believe me get a permit to look over -Sing Sing. The crimes the last speaker mentioned were committed by -clever men. They get away with it. The clever ones do get away with -things for a bit. But if the guy who croaked Bennet tried murder again -the odds are we'd gather him in. Same with the man or men who put -strychnine in Foxkeen's oats. The clever ones get careless. That's our -opportunity." - -The Inspector lighted a new cigar, sipped his highball and came back to -his speech. - -"Boys, I'm not rich--no honest cop is--but I'd give a lot of money to -get my hands on a gentleman crook who's operating right now in this -city. I've got a list of seven tricks I'm certain he done himself. He's -got technique." Inspector McWalsh turned purple red, "Dammit, he made me -an accomplice to one of his crimes. Yes, sir, he made me carry a vase -worth ten thousand dollars out of Senator Scrivener's house on Fifth -Avenue and hand it to him in his taxi. He had a silk hat, a cane and a -coat and he asked me to hold the vase for a moment while he put his coat -on. I thought he was a friend of the Senator so I trotted down the -hall--there was a big reception on--down the steps past my own men on -watch for this very crook or some one like him, and handed it through -the window. None of my men thought of questioning him. Why did he do it -you wonder. He did it because he thought some one _might_ have seen him -swipe it. The thing was thousands of years old and if any of you find it -Senator Scrivener stands ready to give you five thousand dollars reward. -I believe he took the----" Inspector McWalsh stopped. He thought it -wiser to say no more. "That's about all now," he concluded. Then with a -flourish he added, "Gentlemen, I thank you." - -McWalsh sat down with the thunder of applause ringing gratefully in his -ears. And none applauded more heartily than Anthony Trent. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -AMBULANCES AND DIAMONDS - - -THERE was an opportunity later on to visit the Scribblers again. -Crosbeigh begged him to come as he desired a full attendance in honor of -an occasion unique in the club's history. - -It seemed that some soldier members of the club, foregathering in New -York, offered the opportunity for a meeting that might never recur. The -toastmaster was a former officer and the speakers were men who had -fought through the ghastly early years of the war before the United -States came into it. - -It happened that Trent had known the toastmaster, Captain Alan Kent, -when the two had been newspaper cubs together. In those days Kent had -been an irresponsible, happy-go-lucky youngster, liked by all for his -carefree disposition. To-day, after three years of war, he was a sterner -man, in whose eyes shone steadily the conviction of the cause he had -espoused. War had purged the dross from him. - -"You boys, here," he said, "haven't suffered enough. You haven't seen -nations in agony as we have. The theater of war is still too remote. The -loss of a transport wakens you to renewed effort for a moment and then -you get back to thinking of other things, more agreeable things, and -speculate as to when the war will be over. I've spoken to rich men who -seem to think they've done all that is required of them by purchasing a -few Liberty Bonds. They must be bought if we are to win the war, but -there's little of the personal element of sacrifice in merely buying -interest-bearing bonds." - -He launched into a description of war as he had seen it, dwelling on the -character it developed rather than the horrors he had suffered, horrors -such as are depicted in the widely circulated book of Henri Barbusse. -This mention of negative patriotism rather disturbed Anthony Trent. All -he had done was to buy Liberty Bonds. And here was Alan Kent, who had -lived through three years of hell to come back full of courage and -cheer, and anxious, when his health was reestablished, to leave the -British Service and enroll in the armies of America. It was not -agreeable for him to think how he had passed those three years. - -He was awakened from these unpleasant thoughts by the applause which -followed Kent's speech. The next speaker was an ambulance driver, who -made a plea for more and yet more ambulances. - -"Lots of you people here," he said, "seem to think that when once a -battery of ambulances are donated they are there till the war is over. -They suffer as much as guns or horses. The Huns get special marks over -there for potting an ambulance, and they're getting to be experts at the -game. I've had three of Hen. Ford's little masterpieces shot under me, -so to speak. I'm trying to interest individuals in giving ambulances. -They're not very expensive. You can equip one for $5,000. Men have said -to me, 'What's the use of one ambulance?' I tell them as I tell you that -the one they may send will do its work before it's knocked out. It may -pick up a brother or pal of a man in this room. It may pick up some of -you boys even, for some of you are going. God, it makes me tired this -cry of what's the use of 'one little ambulance.'" - -When the dinner was over Trent renewed his acquaintance with Captain -Kent and was introduced to Lincoln, the Harvardian driver of an -ambulance. Over coffee in the Pirates' Den Lincoln told them more of his -work. - -"This afternoon," he said, "I had tea with the Baroness von Eckstein. -You know who she is?" - -Trent nodded. The Baroness was the enormously wealthy widow of a St. -Louis brewer who had married a Westphalian noble and hoped thereby to -get into New York and Washington society. The Baron had been willing to -sell his title--not an old one--for all the comforts of a wealthy home. -He had become naturalized and was not suspected by the Department of -Justice of treachery. His one ambition seemed to be to drink himself to -death on the best cognac that could be obtained. This potent brew, taken -half and half with champagne, seemed likely to do its work. It was -rumored that his wife did not hinder him in this interesting pursuit. - -"I sat behind him at a theater once," Trent admitted. "He's a thin -little man with an enormous head and a strong Prussian accent." He -resisted the temptation to mimic the Baron as he could have done. He -could not readily banish his professional caution. - -"I tried to get the Baroness to buy and equip four ambulances," Lincoln -went on. "It would only have cost her twenty thousand dollars--nothing -to her--but she refused." - -"Before we went into the war," Captain Kent reminded him, "she was -strongly pro-German." - -"She's had enough sense to stop that talk in New York," Lincoln went on. -"She's still trying to break into the Four Hundred and you've got to be -loyal to your country for that, thank God!" - -"I thought she was in St. Louis," Trent observed. - -"She's taken a house in town," Lincoln told him. "The Burton Trent -mansion on Washington Square, North. Took it furnished for three months. -She had to pay like the deuce for the privilege. _Gotham Gossip_ -unkindly remarks that she did it so some of the Burton Trents' friends -may call on her, thinking they are visiting the Trents. It's the nearest -she'll ever get to high society. It made me sick to hear her hard luck -story. Couldn't give me a measly twenty thousand dollars because of -income tax and high cost of living and all that sort of bunk, while she -had a hundred thousand dollars in diamonds on her fat neck. I felt like -pulling them off her." - -Anthony Trent pricked up his ears at this. - -"I didn't know she had a necklace of that value," he mused. - -"I guess you don't know much about the fortunes these millionaire women -hang all over 'em," said Lincoln. Lincoln had an idea the other man was -a bookish scholar, a collector of rare editions, one removed from -knowledge of society life. - -"That must be it," Trent agreed. He wondered if another man in all -America had so intimate a knowledge of the disposition of famous gems. -"So she won't give you any money for ambulances?" - -"It's known she subscribed largely to the German Red Cross before we -got into the war. Leopards don't change their spots easily, as you know. -It was one of her chauffeurs at her country place near Roslyn who rigged -up a wireless and didn't know he was doing anything the government -disapproved of. His mistress lent him the money to equip the thing and -she didn't know she ought not to have done it. I tell you I felt like -pulling that necklace off her fat old neck. Wouldn't you feel that way?" - -"It might make me," Trent admitted, "a little envious." - - * * * * * - -On the whole, Trent enjoyed his first evening of emancipation immensely. -Particularly glad was he to meet his old friend, Alan Kent, again. The -repressed life he had led made him more than ever susceptible to the -hearty friendship of such men as he had met. - -With some of them he made arrangements to go to a costume dance, a -Greenwich Village festival, at Webster Hall, on the following evening. -He did not know that Captain Kent was attending less as one who would -enjoy the function socially than an emissary of his government. It was -known that many of the villagers had not registered. Some had spoken -openly against the draft and others were suspected of pro-German -tendencies that might be dangerous. It was not a commission Kent cared -about, but it was a time in the national history where old friendships -must count for naught. Treason must be stamped out. - -It was not until midnight that Trent dropped into Webster Hall. It was -the nearest approach to the boulevard dances that New York ever saw. The -costumes were gorgeous, some of them, but for the greater part quaint -and bizarre. As a Pierrot he was inconspicuous. There were a number of -men he knew from the Scribblers' Club. He greeted Lincoln with -enthusiasm. He liked the lad. He envied him his record. It was while he -was talking to him that a gorgeously dressed woman seized Lincoln's -hands as one might grasp those of an old and dear friend. - -"Naughty boy," she said playfully. "Why haven't you asked me to dance?" - -"I feared I wasn't good enough for you," Lincoln lied with affable -readiness. "You dance like a professional." - -While this badinage went on Trent gazed at the woman with idle -curiosity. Her enameled face, penciled eyebrows and generally careful -make-up made her look no more than five-and-forty. Her hair was -henna-colored, with purple depths in it. She was too heavy for her -height and her eyes were bright with the light that comes in cocktail -glasses. She had reached the fan-tapping, coquettish, slightly amorous -stage. Her bold eyes soon fell on Anthony Trent, who was a far more -personable man than Lincoln. - -"Who is your good-looking friend?" she demanded. - -Lincoln was bound to make the introduction. From his manner Trent -imagined he was not overpleased at having to do so. - -"Mr. Anthony Trent--the Baroness von Eckstein," he said. - -The Baroness instantly put her bejeweled hand within Trent's arm. - -"I am sure you dance divinely," she cooed. - -Lincoln was a little disappointed at the readiness with which the older -man answered. - -"If you will dance with me I shall be inspired," said Trent. - -"Very banal," Lincoln muttered as the two floated away from him. - -"I'm so glad to be rescued from Lincoln," he told her. "He is so earnest -and seems to think I have an ambulance in every pocket for him." - -"This begging, begging, begging is very tiresome," the Baroness -admitted. She wished she might say exactly what she and her noble -husband felt concerning it. She had understood that some of these -artists and writers in the village were exceedingly liberal in their -views. "Mrs. Adrien Beekman has been bothering me about giving -ambulances all this afternoon." - -"She is most patriotic," he smiled, "but boring all the same." - -"I suppose you are one of these delightfully bad young men who say and -do dreadful things," she hazarded, a little later. - -"I am both delightful and bad," he admitted, "and a number of the things -I have done and shall do are dreadful." - -"I am afraid of you," she cried coquettishly. - -There was about her throat a magnificent necklace, evidently that of -which Lincoln had spoken at the Scribblers' dinner. It was worth perhaps -half of what the ambulance man had said. The stones were set in -platinum. - -"I wonder you are not afraid of wearing such a magnificent necklace -here," he said later. - -"Are you so dangerous as that?" she retorted. - -"Worse," he answered. - -She looked at him curiously. The Baroness liked young and good-looking -men. Trent knew perfectly well what was going on in her mind. He had met -women of this type before; women who could buy what they wanted and need -not haggle at the price. Her eyes appraised him and she was satisfied -with what she saw. - -"I believe you are just as bad as you pretend to be," she declared. - -"Do I disappoint you?" he demanded. - -"Of course," she laughed, "I shall have to reform you. I am very good at -reforming fascinating man-devils like you. You must come and have tea -with me one afternoon." - -"What afternoon?" he asked. - -"To-morrow," she said, "at four." - -If she had guessed with what repulsion she had inspired Trent she would -have been startled. She was a type he detested. - -Later he said: - -"Isn't it unwise of you to wear such a gorgeous necklace at a mixed -gathering like this?" - -"If it were real it would be," she answered. "Don't tell any one," she -commanded, "but this is only an imitation. The real one is on my -dressing table. This was made in the Rue de la Paix for me and only an -expert could tell the difference and then he'd have to know his -business." - -"What are you frowning at?" he demanded when he saw her gaze directed -toward a rather noisy group of newcomers. - -"These are my guests," she whispered. "I'd forgotten all about them. -Doesn't that make you vain? I shall have to look after them. Later on -they are all coming over to the house to have a bite to eat." She -squeezed his hand. "You'd better come, too." - -The Baroness was not usually so reckless in her invitations. She had -learned it was not being done in those circles to which she aspired. But -to-night she was unusually merry and there was something about Trent's -keen, hawk-like type which appealed to her. Lincoln, she reflected, came -of a good Boston family with houses in Beacon Street and Pride's -Crossing, and his friend _must_ be all right. - - * * * * * - -No sooner had she moved toward her guests than Trent made his way to the -street. Over his costume he wore a long black cloak which another than -he had hired. Very few people were abroad. There was a slight fog and -those who saw him were in no way amazed. Webster Hall dances had -prepared the neighborhood for anything. - -He was not long in coming to Washington Square. It was in the block of -houses on the north side that he was specially interested. From the -other side of the road he gazed up at the Burton Trent house. Then going -east a little, he came to the door of the only apartment house in the -block. It was not difficult for him to manipulate the lock. Quietly he -climbed to the top of the house until he came to a ladder leading to the -door on the roof. - -A few feet below him he could see the roof of the neighboring house. To -this he dropped silently and walked along until the square skylight of -the Burton Trent mansion was at hand. The bars that held the aperture -were rusted. It required merely the exercise of strength to pry one of -them loose. Underneath him was darkness. Since Trent had not come out -originally on professional business, he was without an electric torch. -He had no idea how far the drop would be. Very carefully he crawled in, -and, hanging by one hand, struck a match. He dropped on to the floor of -an attic used mainly for the storage of trunks. - -The door leading from the room was unlocked and he stepped out into a -dark corridor. Looking over the balustrade, he could see that the floor -below was brilliantly lighted. From an article in a magazine devoted to -interior decoration he had learned the complete lay-out of the -residence. He knew, for example, that the servants slept in the "el" of -the house which abutted on the mews behind. Ordinarily he would have -expected them to be in bed by this time. But the Baroness had told him -she had guests coming in. There would inevitably be some servants making -preparations. They would hardly have business on the second or third -floors of the house. The Burton Trents, who had let their superb home as -a war-economy measure, would never allow any alteration of the -arrangement of their wonderful furniture. And the Baroness would hardly -be likely to venture to set her taste against that of a family she -admired and indeed envied. It was therefore probable that the Baroness -occupied the splendid sleeping chamber on the second floor front, an -apartment to which the writer on interior decoration had devoted several -pages. - -His borrowed cloak enveloping him, he descended the broad stairs until -he stood at the entrance of the room he sought. It was indeed a -magnificent place. His artistic sense delighted in it. Its furniture had -once been in the sleeping room of a Venetian Doge. It had cost a fortune -to buy. - -The dressing room leading from it was lighted more brilliantly. There -was a danger that the Baroness's maid might be there awaiting the return -of her mistress. - -Peeping through the half-opened door, he satisfied himself that no maid -was there. On the superb dressing table with its rich ornaments he could -see a large gold casket, jewel-encrusted, which probably hid the stones -he had come to get. - -Swiftly he crossed the soft Aubusson carpet and came to the table. He -was far too cautious to lay hands on the metal box straightaway. -Although he was nameless and numberless so far as the police were -concerned, he was not anxious to leave finger-prints behind. He knew -that in all robberies such as he intended the police carefully preserve -the finger-prints amongst the records of the case and hope eventually to -saddle the criminal with indisputable evidence of his theft. Usually -Parker wore the white kid gloves that go with full evening dress. -To-night he was without them. He was also in the habit of carrying a -tube of collodion to coat the finger-tips and defy the finger-printers. -This, too, he was without since his adventure was an unpremeditated one. - -While he was wondering how to set about his business, he was startled by -a sound behind him. From the cover of a _chaise longue_ at the far end -of the room a small, thin man raised himself. Trent knew in a moment it -was the Baron von Eckstein. He relaxed his tense attitude and walked -with a friendly smile to the other man. He had mentally rehearsed the -role he was to play. But the Baron surprised him. - -"Hip, hip, 'ooray!" hiccoughed the aristocrat. - -There was not a doubt as to his condition. He swayed as he tried to sit -up straighter. His eyes were glazed with drink. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE BARON LENDS A HAND - - -"Hip, hip, 'ooray!" said the Baron again, and sank back into bibulous -slumber. By his side on a tray was a half-emptied bottle of liqueur -cognac and an open bottle of champagne. He had evidently been consuming -over-many champagne and brandy highballs. Anthony Trent considered him -for a few moments in silence. He saw a way out of his difficulties and a -certain ironical method of fooling investigation which pleased him more -than a little. - -In a tall tumbler he mixed brandy and champagne--half and half--and -poked the little Baron in the ribs. The familiar sight of being offered -his favorite tipple made the trembling hand seize the glass. The -contents was absorbed greedily, and the Baron fell back on the _chaise -longue_. - -The well-worn phrase "dead to the world" alone describes the condition -of the Baron, who had married a brewery. Trent raised the man--he could -have weighed no more than a hundred pounds--in his strong arms and -carried him across to the dressing table. And with the Baron's limp -hands he opened the jewel case. Therefrom he extracted a necklace of -diamonds set in platinum. What else was there he did not touch. He had a -definitely planned course of action in view. The Baron's recording -fingers closed the box. It would be as pretty a case of finger-prints -as ever gladdened the heart of a central-office detective. The Baron was -next carried to the _chaise longue_. He would not wake for several -hours. It would have been quite easy for Trent to make his escape -undetected. But there was something else to be done first. He locked the -door of the Venetian bedroom and then took up the telephone receiver. -His carefully trained memory recorded the accent and voice of the Baron -von Eckstein as he had heard it during an evening at the theater. - -He called a telephone number. Fortunately it was a private wire -connecting with the central. - -"I wish to speak to Mrs. Adrien Beekman," he said when at length there -was an answer to his call. - -"She is in bed," a sleepy voice returned. "She can't be disturbed." - -"She must be," said Trent, mimicking the Baron. "It is a matter of vast -importance. Tell her a gentleman wishes to present her ambulance fund -with a large sum of money. To-morrow will be too late." - -"I'll see what can be done," said the voice. "That's about the only -matter I dare disturb her on. Hold the wire." - -"Madam," said Trent a minute later, "it is the Baron von Eckstein who -has the honor to speak with you." - -"An odd hour to choose," returned Mrs. Adrien Beekman with no -cordiality. - -"I wish to make reparation, Madam," the pseudo Baron flung back. "This -afternoon you talked to my wife, the Baroness, about your ambulances." - -"And found her not interested in the least," Mrs. Beekman said, a -little crossly. So eminent a leader of society as she was not accustomed -to refusal of a donation when asked of rich women striving for social -recognition. - -"We have decided that your cause is one which should have met a more -generous response. I have been accused of being disloyal. That is false, -Madam. My wife has been attacked as pro-German. That is also false. To -prove our loyalty we have decided to send you a diamond necklace. -Convert this into money and buy what ambulances you can." - -"Do you mean this?" said the astonished Mrs. Adrien Beekman. - -"I am never more serious," retorted the Baron. - -"What value has it?" she asked next. - -"You will get fifty thousand dollars at least," he said. - -"Ten ambulances!" she cried. "Oh, Baron, how very generous! I'm afraid -I've cherished hard feelings about you both that have not been -justified. How perfectly splendid of you!" - -"One other thing," said the Baron, "I am sending this by a trusted -messenger at once. Please see that some one reliable is there to receive -it." - - * * * * * - -It was safer, Trent thought, to gain the Square over the roofs and down -the stairways of the apartment house. It was now raining and hardly a -soul was in view. The Adrien Beekman house was only a block distant. -They were of the few who retained family mansions on the lower end of -Fifth Avenue. - -He knocked at the Beekman door and a man-servant opened it. In the -shadows the man could only see the dark outline of the messenger. - -"I am the Baron von Eckstein," he said, still with his carefully -mimicked accent. "This is the package of which I spoke to your -mistress." - - * * * * * - -It seemed, when he got back to Webster Hall, that none had missed him. -The first to speak was the Baroness. - -"We are just going over to the house," she said cordially. - -"I don't want to share you," he said, smiling, "with all these others. -I'd rather come to-morrow at four. May I?" - -At four on the next day Anthony Trent, dressed in the best of taste as a -man of fashion and leisure, ascended the steps to the Burton Trent home -and wondered, as others had done before him, at the amazing fowl which -guarded its approach. - -He was kept waiting several minutes. From the distant reception rooms he -heard acrimonious voices. One was the Baron's and it pleased him to note -that he had caught its inflections so well the night before. The other -voice was that of his new friend, the Baroness. Unfortunately the -conversation was in German and its meaning incomprehensible. - -When at last he was shown into a drawing room he found the Baroness -highly excited and not a little indignant. She was too much overwrought -to take much interest in her new acquaintance. Almost she looked as -though she wished he had not come. Things rarely looked so rosy to the -Baroness as they did after a good dinner and it was but four o'clock. - -"What has disturbed you?" he asked. - -"Everything," she retorted. "Mainly my husband. Tell me, if you were a -woman and your husband, in a drunken fit, gave away a diamond necklace -to an enemy would you be calm about it?" - -"Has that happened?" he demanded. - -"It has," she snapped. "You remember I told you at the dance I had left -the original necklace at home for safety?" - -"I believe you did mention it," he said, meditating. - -"I'd much better have worn it, Mr. Trent. Everybody knows the Baron's -passion is for cognac and champagne. No man since time began has ever -drunk so much of them. When we got back here last night we had a gay and -festive time. It was almost light when I went to my room and found the -necklace gone. I sobered the Baron and he could give absolutely no -explanation. He said he had slept in the dressing room to guard the -jewels. That was nonsense. He came there to worry my maid. She went to -bed and left him drinking. The police came in and took all the servants' -finger-prints and tried to fasten the thing on them. There were marks on -the jewel case where some one's hands had been put. I offered a reward -of five thousand dollars for any one who could point out the man or -woman who had taken the necklace." - -Trent kept his countenance to the proper pitch of interest and sympathy. -It was not easy. - -"What have the police found?" - -"Wait," the Baroness commanded, "you shall hear everything. This morning -I received a letter from Mrs. Adrien Beekman. You know who she is, of -course. She thanked me, rather patronizingly, for giving my diamond -necklace to her Ambulance Fund. She said she had sold it to a Mexican -millionaire for fifty thousand dollars, enough to buy ten ambulances." - -"How did she get the necklace?" Trent asked seriously. - -"That husband of mine," she returned. "The Baron did it. I can only -think that in his maudlin condition he remembered what I had told him at -dinner about being bothered by the Beekman woman for a cause I'm not -very much in sympathy with. There is no other explanation. It all fits -in. Actually he took the diamonds to the Beekman place himself. I can't -do anything. I dare not tell the facts or I should be laughed out of New -York." - -"Mrs. Adrien Beekman is very influential," he reminded her, choking back -his glee, "it may prove worth your while." - -"She hates me," the Baroness said vindictively. "I've never been so -upset in my life. You haven't heard all. There's worse. One of my -servants is trying to get into the Army and Navy Finger-printing Bureau. -She's made finger-prints of every one in the house--me included--from -glasses or anything we've touched. It was the Baron's finger-prints on -the jewel case, as the police found out, too, and I've got to pay her -five thousand dollars reward!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE MOUNT AUBYN RUBY - - -IT was while Trent was shaving that the lamp fell. He started, blessed -the man who invented safety razors, that he had not gashed himself, and -went into his library to see what had happened. - -Mrs. Kinney, his housekeeper, was volubly apologetic. - -"I was only dusting it," she explained, "when it came down. I think it's -no more than bent." - -It was a hanging lamp of Benares brasswork, not of much value, but Trent -liked its quaint design and the brilliant flashing of the cut colored -glass that embellished it. Four eyes of light looked out on the world -when the lamp was lit. White, green, blue and red, eyes of the size of -filbert nuts. - -He stooped down and picked up the shattered red glass. It was the sole -damage done by Mrs. Kinney's activity. - -"It will cost only a few cents to have it repaired," he commented, and -went back to the bathroom, and speedily forgot the whole matter. - -At breakfast Anthony Trent admitted he was bored. There had been little -excitement in his recent work. The niceness of calculation, the careful -planning and dextrous carrying out of his affairs had netted him a great -deal of money with very little risk. There had been risk often enough -but not within the past few months. His thoughts went back to some of -his more noteworthy feats, and he smiled. He chuckled at the episode of -the bank president whom he had given in charge for picking his pocket -when he had just relieved the financier of the choicest contents of his -safe. - -Trent's specialty was adroit handling of situations which would have -been too much for the ordinary criminal. He had an aplomb, an ingenuous -air, and was so diametrically opposed to the common conception of a -burglar that people had often apologized to him whose homes he had -looted. - -It was his custom to read through two of the leading morning papers -after breakfast. It was necessary that he should keep himself fully -informed of the movements of society, of engagements, divorces and -marriages. It was usually among people of this sort that he operated. To -the columns devoted to lost articles he gave special attention. More -than once he had seen big rewards offered for things that he had -concealed in his rooms. And although the comforting phrase, "No -questions asked" invariably accompanied the advertisement, he never made -application for the reward. - -In this, Trent differed from the usual practitioner of crime. When he -had abandoned fiction for a more diverting sport he had formulated -regulations for his professional conduct drawn up with extraordinary -care. It was the first article of his faith under no circumstances to go -to a "fence" or disposer of stolen goods, or to visit pawnshops. It is -plain to see such precautions were wise. Sooner or later the police get -the "fence" and with him the man's clientele. Every man who sells to a -"fence" puts his safety in another's keeping, and Anthony Trent was -minded to play the game alone. - -As to the pawnshops, daily the police regulations expose more -searchingly the practices of those who bear the arms of old Lombardy -above their doors. The court news is full of convictions obtained by the -police detailed to watch the pawnbrokers' customers. It was largely on -this account that Trent specialized on currency and remained unknown to -the authorities. - -On this particular morning the newspapers offered nothing of interest -except to say that a certain Italian duke, whose cousin had recently -become engaged to an American girl of wealth and position, was about to -cross the ocean and bear with him family jewels as a wedding gift from -the great house he represented. Methodically Trent made a note of this. -Later he took the subway downtown to consult with his brokers on the -purchase of certain oil stocks. - -He had hardly taken his seat when Horace Weems pounced upon him. This -Weems was an energetic creature, by instinct and training a salesman, so -proud of his art and so certain of himself that he was wont to boast he -could sell hot tamales in hell. By shrewdness he had amassed a -comfortable fortune. He was a short, blond man nearly always capable of -profuse perspirations. Trent knew by Weems' excitement that there was at -hand either an entrancingly beautiful girl--as Weems saw beauty--or a -very rich man. Only these two spectacles were capable of bringing Weems' -smooth cheeks to this flush of excitement. Weems sometimes described -himself as a "money-hound." - -"You see that man coming toward us," Weems whispered. - -Trent looked up. There were three men advancing. One was a heavily built -man of late middle age with a disagreeable face, dominant chin and hard -gray eyes. The other two were younger and had that alert bearing which -men gain whose work requires a sound body and courage. - -"Are they arresting him?" Parker demanded. He noticed that they were -very close to the elder man. They might be Central Office men. - -"Arresting _him?_" Weems whispered, still excitedly, "I should say not. -You don't know who he is." - -"I only know that he must be rich," Trent returned. - -"That's one of the wealthiest men in the country," Weems told him. -"That's Jerome Dangerfield." - -"Your news leaves me unmoved," said the other. "I never heard of him." - -"He hates publicity," Weems informed him. "If a paper prints a line -about him it's his enemy, and it don't pay to have the enmity of a man -worth nearly a hundred millions." - -"What's his line?" Trent demanded. - -"Everything," Weems said enthusiastically. "He owns half the mills in -New Bedford for one thing. And then there's real estate in this village -and Chicago." Weems sighed. "If I had his money I'd buy a paper and have -myself spread all over it. And he won't have a line." - -"I'm not sure he has succeeded in keeping it out. I'd swear that I've -read something about him. It comes back clearly. It was something about -jewels. I remember now. It was Mrs. Jerome Dangerfield who bought a -famous ruby that the war compelled an English marchioness to sell." The -thing was quite clear to him now. He was on his favorite topic. "It was -known as the Mount Aubyn ruby, after the family which had it so long." -He turned to look at the well-guarded financier. "So that's the man -whose wife has that blood-stained jewel!" - -"What do you mean--blood stained?" Weems demanded. - -"It's one of the tragic stones of history," said the other. "Men have -sold their lives for it, and women their honor. One of the former -marquises of Mount Aubyn killed his best friend in a duel for it. God -knows what blood was spilled for it in India before it went to Europe." - -"You don't believe all that junk, do you?" asked Weems. - -"Junk!" the other flung back at him. "Have you ever looked at a ruby?" - -"Sure I have," Weems returned aggrieved. "Haven't you seen my ruby stick -pin?" - -"Which represents to you only so many dollars, and is, after all, only a -small stone. If you'd ever looked into the heart of a ruby you'd know -what I mean. There's a million little lurking devils in it, Weems, -taunting you, mocking you, making you covet it and ready to do murder to -have it for your own." - -Weems looked at him, startled for the moment. He had never known his -friend so intense, so unlike his careless, debonair self. - -"For the moment," said Weems, "I thought you meant it. Of course you -used to write fiction and that explains it." - -To his articles of faith Anthony Trent added another paragraph. He swore -not to let his enthusiasm run away with him when he discussed jewels. -Weems was safe enough. He was lucky to be in no other company. But -suppose he had babbled to one of those keen-eyed men engaged in guarding -Jerome Dangerfield, the multi-millionaire who shunned publicity! He -determined to choose another subject. - -"What does he take those men around with him for?" he asked. - -"A very rich man is pestered to death," the wise Weems said. "Cranks try -to interest him in all sorts of fool schemes and crazy men try to kill -him for being a capitalist. And then there's beggars and charities and -blackmailers. Nobody can get next to him. I know. I've tried. I've never -seen him in the subway before. I guess his car broke down and he had to -come with the herd." - -"So you tried? What was your scheme?" - -"I forget now," Weems admitted. "I've had so many good things since. I -followed out a stunt of that crook, Conway Parker, you used to write -about. In one of your stories you made him want to meet a millionaire -and instead of going to his office you made him go to the Fifth Avenue -home and fool the butlers and flunkeys. It won't work, old man. I know. -I handed the head butler my hat and cane, but that was as far as I got. -There must be a high sign in that sort of a house that I wasn't wise -to." Weems mused on his defeat for a few seconds. "I ought to have worn -a monocle." He brightened. "Anyway just as I came out of the door a lady -friend passed by on the top of a 'bus and saw me. Now you're a good -looker, old man, and high-class and all that, but you and I don't -belong in places like Millionaires' Row." - -"Too bad," said Trent, smiling. - -He wondered what Weems would have said if he had known that his friend -had within the week been to a reception in one of the greatest of the -Fifth Avenue palaces and there gazed at a splendid ruby--not half the -size of the Mount Aubyn stone--on the yellowing neck of an aged lady of -many loves. - - * * * * * - -When Weems was shaken off, Dangerfield and his attendants vanished, and -Trent had placed an order with his brokers he walked over to Park Row, -where he had once worked as a cub reporter. Contrary to his usual -custom, he entered a saloon well patronized by the older order of -newspapermen, men who graduated in a day when it was possible to drink -hard and hold a responsible position. He had barely crossed the -threshold when he heard the voice of the man he sought. It was Clarke, -slave to the archdemon rum. He was trying to borrow enough money from a -monotype man, who had admitted backing a winner, to get a prescription -filled for a suffering wife. The monotype man, either disbelieving -Clarke's story or having little regard for wifely suffering, was -indisposed to share his winnings with druggist or bartender. - -It was at this moment that Clarke caught sight of his old reporter and -more recent benefactor. He dropped the monotype man with all the -outraged pride of an erstwhile city editor and shook Trent's hand -cordially. His own trembled. - -"That might be managed," said Trent, listening to his request gravely, -"but first have a drink to steady your nerves." - -They repaired to a little alcove and sat down. Clarke was not anxious to -leave so pleasant a spot. He talked entertainingly and was ready to -expatiate on his former glories. - -"By the way," said Trent presently, "you used to know the inside history -and hidden secrets of every big man in town." - -"I do yet," Clarke insisted eagerly. "What's on your mind?" - -"Nothing in particular," said the other idly, "but I came downtown on -the subway and saw Jerome Dangerfield with his two strong-arm men. -What's he afraid of? And why won't he have publicity?" - -"That swinehound!" Clarke exclaimed. "Why wouldn't he be afraid of -publicity with his record? You're too young to remember, but I know." - -"What do you know?" Trent demanded. - -"I know that he's worse than the _Leader_ said he was when I was on the -staff twenty years back. That was why the old _Leader_ went out of -business. He put it out. A paper is a business institution and won't -antagonize a vicious two-handed fighter like Dangerfield unless it's -necessary. That's why they leave him alone. The big political parties -get campaign contributions from him. Why stir him up?" - -"But you haven't told me what he did?" - -"Women," said Clarke briefly. "You know, boy, that some men are born -women-hunters. That may be natural enough; but if it's a game, play it -fair. Pay for your folly. He didn't. You ask me why he has those guards -with him? It's to protect him from the fathers of young girls who've -sworn to get him. His bosom pal got his at a roof garden a dozen years -back, and Dangerfield's watching night and day. He's bad all through. -The stuff we had on him at the _Leader_ would make you think you were -back in decadent Rome." - -"What's his wife like?" - -"Society--all Society. Handsome, they tell me, and not any too much -brain, but domineering. Full of precious stones. I'm told every servant -is a detective. I guess they are, as you never heard of any of their -valuables being taken. It makes me thirsty to think of it." - -Trent, when he had obtained the information he desired, left Clarke with -enough money to buy medicine for his wife. With the bartender he left -sufficient to pay for a taxi to the boarding-house of Mrs. Sauer, where -he himself had once resided. Clarke would need it. - -On his way uptown he found himself thinking continuously of Jerome -Dangerfield and the Mount Aubyn ruby. There would be excitement in going -after such a prize. The Dangerfield household was one into which thieves -had not been able to break nor steal. A man, to make a successful coup, -would need more than a knowledge of the mechanism of burglar alarms or -safes; he would need steel nerves, a clear head, physical courage and -that intuitive knowledge of how to proceed which marks the great -criminal from his brother, the ordinary crook. If he possessed himself -of the ruby there would be no chance to sell it. It was as well known -among connoisseurs as are the paintings of Velasquez. To cut it into -lesser stones would be a piece of vandalism that he could never bring -himself to enact. - -It was Trent's custom when he planned a job to lay out in concise form -the possible and probable dangers he must meet. And to each one of these -problems there must be a solution. He decided that an entrance to the -Dangerfield house from the outside would fail. To gain a position in the -household would be not easy. In all probability references would be -strictly looked up. They would be easy enough to forge, but if they were -exposed he would be a suspect and his fictitious uncle in Australia -exhumed. Also he did not care to live in a household where he was -certain to be under the observation of detectives. No less than Jerome -Dangerfield he shrank from publicity. - -Mrs. Kinney noticed that he was strangely unresponsive to her -well-cooked lunch. When she enquired the cause he told her he wanted a -change. "I shall go away and play golf for a couple of weeks," he -declared. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -TRENT TAKES A HOLIDAY - - -AT a sporting goods store that afternoon he ran into Jerome Dangerfield -again. He had just bought a dozen balls when he saw the millionaire and -his two attendants. He was not minded to be observed of them, so slipped -into the little room where putters may be tried and drives be made into -nets. From where he was he could hear Dangerfield's disagreeable, -rasping voice. His grievance, it seemed, was that other golfers were -able to get better balls than he. He badgered the clerk until the man -found spirit to observe: "If there was a ball that would make a dub play -good golf it would be worth a fortune to any one." - -Trent was able to see the look of anger the capitalist threw at him. And -this anger he saw reflected on the faces of the two attendants. -Decidedly any lone man pitting his courage and wit against the -Dangerfield entourage would need sympathy. - -"Send me a half-gross up to Sunset Park Hotel," he heard Dangerfield say -as he walked away, still frowning. - -"I hope you don't have many of that kind to wait on," Trent said -sympathetically. He was always courteous to those with whom he had -dealings. - -"He's the limit," said the clerk; "and from the way he looked at me I -guess the boss will hear of it. Seemed to think there was a ball that -would make him drive two hundred and fifty and hole a twenty-foot putt -and I was trying to hide it from him. You wouldn't think it, but he's -one of the richest men living. Gee, it makes me feel like a Socialist -when I think of it!" - -The clerk wondered why it was a superb golfer, as he knew Trent to be, -was modest and courteous, while a man like Dangerfield was so -overbearing. - -Before he went home Trent looked up Sunset Park in a golfer's guide. It -was a little-known course among the Berkshires, with only nine holes to -its credit. The rates of the hotel were sufficiently high to make it -clear only the rich could play. It was probably one of these dreary -courses where a scratch player would be a rara avis, a course to which -elderly men, playing for their health, gravitated and made the lives of -caddies miserable. - -It was a curious thing, Trent thought, that while this morning he knew -nothing of Dangerfield, by night he knew a great deal. An evening paper -told him why the millionaire was going to the Berkshires. There was to -be a wedding in high society and the bride was a niece of Mrs. Jerome -Dangerfield. The ceremony would take place at the Episcopal Church of -the Good Shepherd, and a bishop would unite the contracting parties. The -fancy dress ball to be held would be the most elaborate ever held -outside New York. A great pavilion was to be erected for the occasion in -the grounds of the bride's magnificent home, and Newport would be for -the moment deserted. It was rumored that the jewels to be worn would -exceed in value anything that had ever been gathered together this side -the Atlantic, and so on, two columns long. - -It explained very clearly why the Jerome Dangerfields were going to -Sunset Park. The collective value of the jewels appealed particularly to -Trent. He wondered if the Mount Aubyn ruby would shine out on that -festal night. And if so how would it be guarded? It would be less -difficult to disguise the detectives in fancy costume than in evening -dress. Of course the owner of such a world-famous gem might wear an -imitation as the Baroness von Eckstein had done. But if Clarke had -painted her aright this was an occasion when an ambitious woman would be -willing to take risks. - - * * * * * - -The proprietors of the Sunset Park Hotel were glad to accommodate Mr. -Anthony Trent with a bed and bathroom for a little over a hundred -dollars a week. It was a very select resort, they explained, attracting -such people as the Jerome Dangerfields and their friends. - -The golf course was owned by the hotel and the first tee was on the lawn -a few yards from the front piazza. On the morning following his arrival, -Trent, golf clubs already allotted to a caddy, waited to see what kind -of golf was played. They were indifferently good but he betrayed little -attention until he saw Dangerfield coming. Immediately he went to the -tee but did not make his first shot until the millionaire was near -enough to see. Playing alone as was the capitalist--for few were yet on -the links--he had not to wait as he must have done had the other been -playing with a partner. The first green was distant one hundred and -sixty yards from the tee. A brook with sedgy reeds was a fine natural -hazard, and as the green was on an elevated plateau with deep grass -beyond, it was not an easy one to reach. Dangerfield dreaded it. - -Dangerfield saw a tall, slim young man correctly clad in breeches and -stockings, using a mashie, drop his ball neatly on the green within -putting distance of the hole. Later he saw the hole done in two which -was one under par. - -"Who is that man?" Dangerfield demanded of his caddie. - -"Never seen him before," the lad answered. - -Dangerfield took his brassey and went straightway into the brook. He -saw, however, as he was ball hunting, this stranger make a wonderful -drive to the second--two hundred and fifty yards, the enthusiastic -caddie swore. Meanwhile the millionaire continued to press and slice and -pull and top his ball to such effect as to do the double round in one -hundred and forty-two. Nothing exasperated him so much as to find the -game mock his strength and desire. A power wherever money marts were, he -was here openly laughed at by caddies. He was discovering that rank on -the links is determined by skill at the game alone. What mattered it -that he was the great Jerome Dangerfield. What had he done the round in? -What was his handicap? - -He particularly wanted to humble Stephen Goswell, president of the First -Agricultural Bank of New York City. Goswell was a year ahead of him at -the game and had the edge on him so far. Goswell could manage short -approaches occasionally, strokes that were beyond his own inflexible -wrists. Now this tall, dark stranger had such strokes to perfection. The -ball driven up into the air skimmed tree, wall or bunker and rolled up -to the pin sweetly. Dangerfield quickly made up his mind. He would -invite the stranger to play with him and then get hints which would -improve his game fifty per cent. - -"Morning," he said later at the "Nineteenth Hole" where the stranger was -taking a drink. - -"Good morning," said the stranger rather stiffly. "It is evident," -thought Dangerfield, "he does not know who I am." - -"Going 'round again after lunch?" Dangerfield demanded. - -"I think so," the stranger responded. - -"We might play together," said Dangerfield. "I haven't a partner." - -"I'm afraid that won't make a good match," Trent told him. "Surely there -is some one more your strength who would make a better match of it?" - -"Huh!" grunted the other, "think I don't play well enough, eh?" - -"I know it," said Trent composedly. - -Dangerfield regarded him sourly. - -"You're not overburdened with modesty, young man." - -"I hope not," the other retorted, "nothing handicaps a man more in life. -I happen to know golf, though, and my experience is that if I play with -a much inferior player I get careless and that's bad for my game. I'm -perfectly frank about it. You know next to nothing about the game. In -your own line of work you could no doubt give me a big beating because -you know it and I don't." - -"And what do you suppose my line of work is?" snapped the annoyed -mill-owner. - -"I don't know," Trent commented. "Either a dentist or a theatrical -producer." As he spoke up sauntered one of the two men with whom he had -seen Dangerfield in the subway. - -"I'd like to hire some one to take the starch out of you," Dangerfield -said as he rose to his feet. - -"Quite easy," Trent returned, "almost any professional could." - -He watched the two walk away and chuckled. He had attracted the -millionaire's attention and he had rebuffed him. So far his programme -was being carried out on scheduled time. The attendant had not looked at -him with any special interest. It was unlikely in different clothes, -under other conditions and in a strange place he would recognize him. - -He did not play again that day. Instead he paid attention to some -elderly ladies who knitted feverishly and were inclined to talk. He -learned a great deal of useful news. For example, that the Dangerfields -always had meals in their big private suite and rarely without guests -from nearby homes. That they quarreled constantly. That Mr. Dangerfield -never went to bed wholly sober. That he was given to sudden gusts of -temper and only last year had beaten a caddie and had been compelled to -settle the assault with a large money payment. That he was not above -pocketing a golf ball if he could do so without being observed. That he -had several times been seen to lift his ball out of an unfavorable lie -into one from which he could play with greater chance of making a good -stroke. - -These petty meannesses Trent had already surmised. Dangerfield seemed to -him that sort of a man. He was more interested in the dinner parties. -But a man in such a position as he was had to be careful as to what -questions he asked. People had a knack of remembering them at -inopportune moments. Fortunately one of the ladies, who was a Miss -Northend of Lynn, came back to it. She was a furious knitter and knitted -best when her tongue wagged. - -"Of course this hotel belongs to Mr. Dangerfield," she babbled, "and -that explains why they have a palatial suite here and can entertain even -more readily than if they had a summer home, as their friends have. This -is a very fashionable section. The women dress here as if they were in -Newport. Every night Mr. Dangerfield goes down to the hotel safe and -brings something gorgeous in the jewelry way for his wife to wear. -There's a private stairway he uses. I wandered into it once by mistake." - -"And sister was so flustered," the other Miss Northend of Lynn told him, -"that when he accused her of spying on him she couldn't say a word. It -really did look suspicious until he knew we were Northends and our -father was his counsel once when he controlled the Boston and Rangely -road." - -When these estimable maidens had finished, Anthony Trent knew all those -particulars he desired. It was not the first time amiable gossips had -aided him. But he played his part so well that Miss Fannie chided her -sister. - -"He wasn't a bit interested in the Dangerfield wealth," she said. "All -a young man like that thinks of is golf." - -"Well," said her sister, "I am interested and I'm frightened, too. When -I think of all that amount of precious stones in the hotel safe, I'm -positively alarmed. Every night she wears something new, her maid told -the girl who looks after our rooms." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE GREAT BLACK BIRD - - -THERE was exactly one week to the night of the fancy dress dance at the -Uplands from the time that the Northend sisters gave the abstractor so -much information. Every moment of it was carefully taken up by that -calculating gentleman. - -For example, on the following morning, Wednesday he played a round with -the club's champion, an amateur of some skill. Dangerfield posing for -the moment as a warm admirer of the local player, followed the two on -their match, betting freely on Blackhall, his clubmate. Also, he -violated every rule of the royal and ancient game by speaking as Trent -made his strokes. Never in his ten years of golf had Trent played such a -game. It was characteristic of him to do his best when conditions were -worst. - -When the game was over at the thirteenth hole Dangerfield turned crossly -to Blackhall. - -"You played a rotten game!" he said. - -"I never played a better," that golfer exclaimed. "The whole trouble -with me was that I was up against a better man." - -It may be observed that Blackhall was a sportsman. - -Dangerfield was astonished and gratified next day when he was essaying -some approaching to find Trent watching his efforts in a not unfriendly -spirit. - -"The trouble with you," said the younger player graciously, "is that you -chop your stroke instead of carrying through. I'll show you what I -mean." - -In the half hour he devoted to Dangerfield he improved the millionaire's -game six strokes a round. - -"It would be no fun to play with you," he said when Dangerfield again -invited him, "but I hate to see a man trying to approach as you did when -a little help could put him right." - -Thus were any Dangerfield suspicions disarmed. He helped him once or -twice more and on every occasion insisted that the hovering attendant be -sent away. - -"Your keeper," said Trent genially, "puts me off my stroke." - -"Keeper," grinned Dangerfield, "I'm not as bad as that. He's my valet." - -Two days before the ball at the Uplands it was observed that Anthony -Trent visited the Nineteenth Hole more frequently and stayed there -longer. He was playing less golf now. The bartender confided in Mr. -Dangerfield, who was also a consistent patron, that he was drinking -heavily. - -"I guess," said the tender of the bar with the sapience of his kind, -"that he's one of these quiet periodic souses. They tell me he has the -stuff sent up to his room." - -"Too bad!" said Mr. Dangerfield, shaking his head as he ordered another. - -It was true that to Trent's room much dry gin and lemon juice found its -way, together with siphons of iced carbonic. The carbonic and the lemon -juice was drunk since a belated heat wave was visiting the Sunset Park -Hotel. The gin found its way into his flower laden window boxes, which -should have bloomed into juniper berries. Trent liked a drink as well as -any other golfer, but he found that it just took the keen edge off his -nerves. He was less keen to realize danger and too ready to meet a risk -when he drank. As a conscientious workman he put it behind him when -professionally engaged. - -On the night of the ball he was, to quote a bell boy, dead to the world, -which proves that bell boys may be deceived by appearances. On the night -of the ball he was keyed up to his highest personal efficiency. - -Physically he was at his best. His muscles were always hard and his wind -good. The resisting exercises he practised maintained the former and a -little running every day aided the latter. - -The great costume ball was to take place on the third of September, when -the sun would set at half-past six. The Uplands was no more than a half -hour motor spin distant from the hotel. The time set was half-past nine, -which meant few would be there before ten. It was plain then that Mrs. -Jerome Dangerfield would not commence her preparations for dressing -until after the dinner. She was devoted to the pleasures of the table, -as her maid lamented when she harnessed her mistress within her corsets. - -Looking from his window, Trent saw that the sun had retired behind -clouds early in the afternoon. Darkness would not be delayed, and the -success of his venture depended upon this. - -Reviewing the amazing events of the evening of September the third, it -is only fair to let Jerome Dangerfield relieve his feelings in a letter -to his closest friend, the president of the First Agricultural Bank of -New York. - -"You were right in warning me not to bring the Mt. Aubyn ruby up to this -place. It was Adele's fault. She wanted it for the wedding. The damned -thing has gone, Steve, vanished into thin air. If you told me what I'm -going to tell you, I should say you were crazy. The people here and the -fool police thought I'd been drinking. I'd had three or four cocktails, -but what is that to me--or you? I was absolutely in possession of my -senses. - -"We dined early and we dined alone. At eight I went down for the jewels -Adele wanted to wear. The ruby was the _piece de resistance_ of course. -I went down my own private stairway as usual and unlocked the door -leading from it to the hotel lobby. Devlin is here, and O'Brien, but -they were both outside keeping tabs on strangers. The papers have played -this costume ball up so much that every crook in the land knew what we -had to offer in the way of loot. Graham, the hotel clerk, came with me -to the private stairway and swears he pushed the door to as I started to -go up the stairs. And he swears also that, although it wasn't lighted as -well as usual, there was nobody in sight. They are steep stairs, Steve, -but they save me rubbing shoulders with every man or woman who might -want to get acquainted in the public elevators; and, naturally, I wasn't -carrying a fortune where any crook could get a crack at me. - -"Read this carefully. I was on the fifteenth step of the flight of -twenty-two steps when the thing happened. The light was dim because one -of the bulbs wasn't working and the only illumination came from a red -light at the head of the stairway. - -"I was holding the jewel box in both hands resting it almost on my chest -when the thing happened. There was suddenly a noise that might have been -made by the beating of wings and something swooped out of nowhere and -hit me on my wrists with such violence that I went backwards down the -stairs and was unconscious for more than ten minutes. On each wrist -there is an abrasion that might be caused by the sharp bill of a big -bird. I'm bruised all over and have three stitches over one eye. - -"I found the box lying on one of the steps closed as I had held it. _The -only thing that was missing was the Mt. Aubyn Ruby!_ - -"Devlin and O'Brien have all kinds of theories but I told them I wanted -the stone back and if they didn't get it I wouldn't have them any longer -in my employ. - -"Devlin says he will swear a car passed him on the Boston road yesterday -containing some Continental crooks who used to operate along the Italian -and French riviera. He's full of wild fancies and swears I shall get the -ruby back. I'm not so sure. I've given up the theory that it was a great -black bat which hit me, but whatever it was it was a stunt pulled by a -master craftsman who is laughing at Devlin and his kind. Can you imagine -a crook who would leave behind what this fellow did? - -"I wish you'd go to the Pemberton Detective Agency and get them to send -some one up here capable of handling the situation. I shall be coming -down to New York as soon as I'm able. I'm too much bruised to play golf -but when I do I shall win some of your money. I've had some lessons -from a crackerjack golfer up here who goes round the eighteen holes in -anything from seventy-two to seventy-eight. My stance was wrong and I -wasn't gripping right." - -So much for Jerome Dangerfield. When Devlin and O'Brien examined the -scene of the crime they immediately noticed that some fifteen feet above -the ground level a stained glass window lighted the stairway. "Of -course," they exclaimed in unison, "that is the solution." But the -theory did not hold water, as the soil of the flower-beds showed no sign -of a ladder or any footmark. They had been raked over that afternoon and -the gardener swore no foot but his had set foot in this enclosed garden -which supplied the hotel tables with blooms. An examination of the -window showed no helpful finger marks. It was an indoor job, they -declared, amending their first opinion. - -But they were thorough workmen in their way. For instance: Anthony -Trent, reclining fully dressed across his bed with cigarette stubs and -emptied glasses about him within thirty minutes of the robbery, was -evidently in fear of interruption. An onlooker would have seen him take -three gin fizzes in rapid succession until indeed his face wore a faint -flush. He listened keenly when outside his door footsteps lingered. And -he was snoring alcoholically when the hotel clerk entered, bringing with -him Messrs. Devlin and O'Brien. - -"He's been like this for days," Graham, the clerk, asserted. "If it -wasn't that he was no trouble and made no noise I should have told him -to get out. A pity," Graham shook his head, "one of the -pleasantest-spoken men in the hotel, and some golfer, they tell me." - -"You leave us," Devlin commanded. "We are acting for the boss and it'll -be all right." - -Out of the corner of his eye Trent watched the two trained men make a -thorough examination of his room and effects. Indeed, their thoroughness -gave him ideas which were later to prove of use. But they drew blank. -They examined the two fly rods he had brought with him and a collapsible -landing net with great care, tapping the handles and balancing the rods. -They sighed when nothing was found. - -"This guy is all right," said O'Brien. - -"I don't know," said Devlin. "He looks a little too much like a -moving-picture hero to suit me. He may have it on him." - -At this moment Trent sat up with an effort and looked from one to the -other of the visitors. As drunken men do, it appeared not easy to get -them in proper focus. - -Devlin was not easily put in the wrong. His manner was most respectful. - -"Mr. Dangerfield wants you to join him in a little game of bridge," he -began ingratiatingly. - -"Sure," said the inebriate. "Any time at all." He attempted to get up. - -"You can't go like this," Devlin assured him. "You'd better sober up a -bit. Take a cold bath." - -O'Brien obligingly turned the water on and five minutes later Devlin -assisted him into the tub, while O'Brien examined the clothes he had -left in his sitting-room. - -Then the two left him abruptly and made no more mention of bridge or -Dangerfield. Trent rolled on the bed chuckling. The honors were his. - -The great black bird swooping from nowhere to relieve Dangerfield of his -great ruby and other stones of value, to strike that worthy upon his -strong wrists with such startling effect as to make him fall down a -dozen steps, was capable of a simpler explanation than he had supposed. - -Trent, a week before the robbery, had observed with peculiar attention -the window leading to Dangerfield's private stairway. He could see one -easy approach to it and one of greater difficulty. The first was -approach by a step-ladder. The second was a great arm of the enormous -tree that reared its head above the hotel roof. This arm hung down from -the roof almost twenty feet above the little window. He believed that -his weight would bring it swaying down to the window-ledge. He tried it -one moonless night and found the scheme feasible. Already the chiller -mountain breezes following the heat spell were making visitors close -their windows. On the evening of the third of September he stole from -his room by climbing over the roof until he came to the side where the -big tree was. In one hand he held a coil of rope to hold the branch when -his weight was taken off it. This rope he tied to the iron staple of the -shutter outside the window. It was easy to open this. - -Dropping silently on to the stairs, he unscrewed the bulb of the light -until the staircase was in partial darkness. Tense, he knelt on the edge -of the window and waited for the millionaire. And as the man came in -sight he suddenly lifted from a step his landing net, the same -collapsible one Devlin had examined with such care. But this time it was -draped in dark material to conceal its form. The brass rim, sharp and -heavy, struck Dangerfield's wrists as he held the box by both hands on a -level with his heart. Into the open net the precious casket fell -silently. Trent was in his room ten minutes ere Dangerfield came to -consciousness. His next move seemed strange and unnecessary. With a used -golf ball in his pocket, he slid down the veranda posts until he came, -by devious routes, to the shed in which the lockers were of those who -used the links. It had long since been closed for the night. Parker -unfastened Dangerfield's locker and placed the ball in the pocket, where -it lay with others of similar age and make. - -He was able to return to his room unobserved. It was less than a half -hour afterward that he received his call from the two detectives. - -Although he was anxious to get on the links again and breathe the air of -the pine woods, he was careful not to undo his artistic preparations. It -was noticed that no more drink was sent to his room. There came instead -ice water and strong coffee. He was getting over it, they said. Two days -later he was out on the links and made a peculiarly bad round, taking -ten more strokes than usual. Dangerfield watched him from the piazza. -One of his arms was in a sling. - -"Cut the rough stuff out," said Dangerfield, "that's the second time you -topped your ball." - -Trent passed a hand across his face, possibly to hide a smile. - -"I guess I'll have to," he returned simply. "It was that damned heat -wave that got me going." - - * * * * * - -It happened that the Dangerfields and Trent returned to New York on the -same train. Devlin and O'Brien were in attendance. Trent noticed that -when Devlin's eye fell on the golf bag over his shoulder he frowned. So -far the ruby had not been recovered and here was a piece of baggage that -might hold crown jewels. Over Devlin's broad shoulders his master's golf -bag was suspended. Cheerily and with respect he approached the crack -player. - -"Let me hold your golf bag, sir," he said with a ready smile. "I'll put -it on the train for you." - -Trent relinquished it with relief. "Thank you," he returned, "it will be -a help." - -He had long ago noticed that his own bag and Dangerfield's were alike -save for the initials. They were both of white canvas, bound with black -leather. Watching the smiling Devlin with a well-disguised curiosity, he -saw that Dangerfield's bag had been substituted for his own. Devlin had -done exactly as Trent expected him to do and had, in the doing of it, -saved him much trouble. - -There were not many people in his Pullman. Dangerfield had his private -car. None saw Anthony Trent open the ball pouch on the Dangerfield bag -and extract therefrom an aged and somewhat dented ball. He balanced it -almost lovingly in his hand. Never in the history of the great game had -a ball been seen with the worth of this one. And yet he had so cunningly -extracted its core and repaired it when once the Mount Aubyn ruby was -nestling in its strange home that detection was unlikely, even were an -examination made. A porter had the Dangerfield bag and Trent's suitcase -when Devlin came up to him. He was no longer obliging. He had spent -wearisome hours in the privacy of the Dangerfield car examining every -part of the Trent impedimenta. The task had wearied him and had been -fruitless. - -"You got the boss's clubs," he said shortly. - -Languidly Trent examined what his porter carried. - -"You're to blame for it," he answered, and as Mr. Dangerfield came up -raised his voice a little. He knew Devlin suspected him, and he sensed -that some day the two would meet as open foes. - -"This man of yours," cried Trent, "tried to give me your clubs instead -of my own. I wouldn't lose mine for anything." - -"You crack golfers couldn't do anything without your own specially built -clubs," jeered the millionaire, "I believe it's half the game." - -Trent smiled. - -"There's something in the ball, too," he admitted, and had difficulty in -keeping his face straight. - -Mrs. Kinney was delighted to see her employer home again, and hurried to -a convenient delicatessen store so that he might be fed. It was when she -came back that her eye caught sight of the brass lamp from Benares. - -Where had been the unsightly gap caused by her breaking of the red glass -was now a piece which glittered gaily. - -"Why, you've had it mended, sir," she cried. "I feel I ought to pay for -it, since it was my carelessness which broke it." - -"I'm glad you did," he laughed. "If you hadn't I shouldn't have got -this." He looked at it with pride. "Do you know, Mrs. Kinney, I like -this one better." - -"It makes the other ones look common though," she commented. - -"You're right," he admitted. "I think I shall have to replace them, -too." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -TRENT ACQUIRES A HOME - - -ONE day, months before the affair of the ten ambulances, Horace Weems -had seen Anthony Trent about to enter Xeres' excellent restaurant. -Lacking no assurance Weems tacked himself on to his friend. - -"Say, do you feed here?" he demanded and looked with respect at his -friend's raiment. - -"Only when I'm hungry," Trent retorted. He knew it was useless to try to -get rid of Weems. "Have you dined?" - -"Thanks," said Weems, "I don't mind if I do." - -In those days Weems was proud as the owner of the finest camp on Lake -Kennebago. He was high stomached and generous of advice. He told Trent -so much of a certain stock--a gold mine in Colorado--that at last he -purchased a considerable interest in it. Later he learned that Weems had -unloaded worthless stock on him. Trent bore no sort of malice. He had -gone into the thing open-eyed and Weems, as he knew of yore, never sold -at a loss. - -Weems had been wiser to have held his stock for tungsten in large -quantities was discovered and what cost Trent five thousand dollars was -now worth ten times that amount. - -It was one evening shortly after his adventures with the Baron von -Eckstein that Weems called him up on the telephone. That he was able to -do so annoyed Trent who had carefully concealed his number. But Horace -Weems had secured it by a use of mendacity and with it the number and -the address. He said he was 'phoning from a nearby drug store and was -about to pay a visit. - -Weems was ill at ease. And he was unshaven and his shoes no longer shone -with radiance. His disheveled appearance and attitude of dejection swept -away his host's annoyance. He took a stiff Scotch and seltzer. - -"Little Horace Weems," he announced, "has got it in the neck!" - -"What's happened?" Trent demanded. - -"Got that Wall Street bunch sore on me and hadn't the sense to see the -danger signals." Weems soothed his throat with another stiff drink. "The -trouble with me is I'm too courageous. I knew what I was up against but -did that frighten me? No siree, no boss, I went for 'em like you used to -go through a bunch of forwards in a football game. I'm like a bull -terrier. I'm all fight. Size don't worry me. They pulled me down at last -but it took all the best brains in the 'Street' to do it. They hate a -comer and I'm that. Well, this is the first round and they win on points -but this isn't a limited bout. You watch little Horace. I'll have a -turbine steam yacht yet and all the trimmings. Follow me and you'll wear -diamonds or rags--nothing between. Rags or diamonds." - -Weems was a long time coming to the point. When he did it was revealed -as a loan, a temporary loan. - -"It's like this," said the ingenuous Weems, "when I sold you those -shares in a tungsten mine I did it because you were a friend." - -"You did it," Trent reminded him, "because you hadn't a faint idea there -was tungsten there and you thought you'd done something mighty clever. -What next?" - -"You needn't be sore about it," Weems returned, "you made money." - -"I'm not sore," Trent said smiling. "You did me a good turn but I don't -have to be grateful all things considering. How much do you want?" - -"I shall get back," Weems said a little sulkily. "I only want a hundred -or maybe two hundred, although five hundred would see me through till I -get the money for the camp." - -"You are not going to sell that?" Trent cried. It was of all places the -one he craved. - -"Got to," Weems asserted. - -"Who is going to buy it?" - -"A fellow from Cleveland named Rumleigh." - -"I remember him," Trent said frowning, "he's a hog, a fish hog. All the -guides hate him. What's he going to give you?" - -"Forty thousand," said Weems. - -"Constable, grand piano and all?" - -"The piano's there," Weems told him, "but the picture is sold. Honest, -Tony, that picture surprised me. Senator Scrivener gave me ten thousand -dollars for it. Just some trees, an old barn and some horses looking -over a gate. What do you know about that? That helped me some." - -"You're such a damned liar, Weems, that I never believe you but I'll -swear Rumleigh isn't paying you forty thousand dollars for that camp. -It's a good camp but if you've got to sell in a hurry he'll hold you -down to less than that. Be honest for once and tell me what he's going -to give." - -"Twenty-two thousand," Weems said sullenly. - -"I'll give you twenty-five," said Trent carelessly. - -"His is a cash offer," Weems said shaking his head, "and that's why I'm -selling so cheap." - -Trent took a roll of bills from his pocket and peeled off before Weems' -astounded eyes five and twenty thousand dollars. - -"Mine is also a cash offer," he observed. - -"Come right off to my lawyer," Weems cried springing to his feet. "Gee, -and I thought you hadn't as much money as I have." - -Thus it was that Anthony Trent came into possession of his camp. It was -a beautiful place and there were improvements which he planned that -would cost a lot to execute. He decided that it might be unwise to -retire yet from a profession which paid him such rewards. Another year -and he could lay aside his present work satisfied that financial worries -need never trouble him. He admitted that many unfortunate things might -happen in twelve months but he was serene in the belief that his star -was in the ascendant. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -"WANTED--AN EMERALD" - - -Since Anthony Trent had replaced the red glass in his Benares lamp with -the Mount Aubyn ruby, the other pieces of cut glass seemed so dull by -comparison that had his visitors been many, suspicion must have arisen -from the very difference they exhibited. The lamp was discreetly swung -in a distant corner and the button which lighted the lamp carefully -concealed. - -Reading one morning that owing to the financial trouble into which the -war had plunged a great West of England family, the celebrated Edgcumbe -sapphire had been purchased by a New York manufacturer of -ammunition--one of the new millionaires created by the war to buy what -other countries had to sacrifice. - -The papers gave every necessary particular. At ten o'clock one morning -Anthony Trent sallied forth to loot. By dinner time the Edgcumbe -sapphire had replaced the blue cube of cut glass and in his lamp the -papers were devoting front page space to its daring abduction. How he -accomplished it properly belongs to another chapter in the life of the -master criminal. So easy was it of consummation that he planned to use -the same technique for a greater coup. - -When these two great stones were making his brazen lamp a thing of -flashing beauty they threw into infinite dullness the cube of green. -Looking at it night after night when Mrs. Kinney was long abed and the -grateful silences had drowned the noise of day, Anthony Trent longed for -an emerald to bear these lordly jewels company. - -There was an excellent second-hand book store on Thirty-second street, -between Seventh avenue and Sixth, where he browsed often among waiting -volumes. One day he picked up a book, written in French, "Romances of -Precious Stones." It was by a Madame Sernin, grandniece of the great -Russian novelist Feoder Vladimir Larrovitch. Trent remembered that he -had read her translation of _Crasny Baba_ and _Gospodi Pomi_, and looked -at this original work with interest. It was published in Paris just -before the war. - -He knew well that most of the great stones which had became famous -historically were still in Europe. And Europe, until the long war was -over, was closed to him. He hoped Madame Sernin had something to say -about American-owned jewels. There was a reference in the index and -later, in his rooms, he read it eagerly. There were, Mme. Sernin -announced, but two of the great emeralds in the United States. One -belonged to the wife of the Colombian minister and was found in -Colombia. Trent considered this stone carefully. It might not be in the -United States after all. Mme. Sernin was doubtful herself. But of the -second stone she was certain. It was known as the Takowaja Emerald. A -century and a half before it had been dug from the Ural Mountains. That -great "_commenceuse_," the second Catherine of Russia, had given it to -her favorite, Gregory Orlov, who had sold it to a traveling English -noble in a day before American gold was known in Continental Europe. - -It was now the property of Andrew Apthorpe, of Boston in Massachusetts. -Presumably the man was a collector, and assuredly he was wealthy, but -Anthony Trent had never heard of him. A trip by boat to Boston would -make a pleasant break and a day later he was steaming north. His -inevitable golf clubs accompanied him. Trent was one of those -natural-born players whose game suffer little if short of practice. And -of late he had not stinted himself of play. He told Mrs. Kinney he was -going to Edgartown for a few days. He had sometimes played around these -island links; and his bag of clubs was always an excellent excuse for -traveling in strange parts. - -Directly he had registered at the Adams House he consulted a city -directory. Andrew Apthorpe's town house was in the same block on Beacon -street which held the Clent Bulstrode mansion. - -It was a vast, forbidding residence of red brick running back to the -Charles embankment. The windows were small and barred and the shades -drawn. An empty milk bottle and a morning paper at a basement door gave -evidence of occupancy. And at the garage at the rear a burly chauffeur -was cleaning the brass work of a touring car. Looking wisely and -suspiciously at Trent as he sauntered by was an Airedale. The family, -Trent surmised, was absent and the caretaker, who rose late if the -neglected Post was a sign, and this man and dog were left to guard the -place. - -If the Takowaja emerald were housed here with two such guardians its -recovery might not be difficult. But the more Trent thought of it the -more improbable it seemed that the owner of such a gem should leave it -prey to any organized attack. The curious part about this Ural emerald -was that Trent had never before heard of it and he knew American owned -stones well. Most of the owners of famous jewels were ready to talk of -them, lend them for exhibition purposes when they were properly guarded, -but he had never seen a line about the Apthorpe emerald. - -A few minutes before midday Anthony Trent strolled into the Ames -building and saw that Andrew Apthorpe, cotton broker, occupied very -large offices. A little later he followed one of the Apthorpe clerks, a -well-dressed, good-looking young man, to the place where he lunched. It -was curiously unlike a New York restaurant. Circular mahogany counters -surrounded self possessed young women who permitted themselves to attend -to those who hungered. To such as they knew and liked they were affable. -To others their front was cold and severe. - -The Apthorpe employee was a favorite, apt at retort and not ill pleased -if others noted it. Soon he drifted into conversation with Trent, who -with his careful mind had read through the column devoted to cotton in -the morning papers and was ready with a carefully remembered phrase or -two for the stranger who responded in kind. - -Gradually, by way of the Red Sox, the beauties of Norumbega Park and the -architectural qualities of Keith's, the young man lapsed into -personalities and told Anthony Trent all he desired to know of Andrew -Apthorpe. Andrew, it seemed, was not beloved of his employees. He was -unappreciative of merit unless it accompanied female beauty. He was -old; he was ill. His family had abandoned him with the sincere -reluctance that wealth is ever abandoned. - -"He lives up at Groton," said Trent's loquacious informant, "in a sort -of castle on a hill fitted with every burglar resisting device that was -ever invented." - -"What's he afraid of?" Trent demanded. - -"He's got a lot of valuables," the other answered, "cut gems and cameos -and intaglios and things that wouldn't interest any one but an old miser -like him. I have to go up there once in a while. The old boy has an -automatic in his pocket all the while. I think he's crazy." - -There were two or three men at Camp Devens whom Trent knew slightly. The -Camp was within walking distance of Groton, he learned. By half past -nine on the following morning Anthony Trent left Ayer behind him and -breasted the rising ground towards Groton. He could go to the Camp -later. He might not go at all but if questioned as to his presence the -excuse would be a just one. He was always anxious that his motives would -pass muster with the police if ever he came in contact with them. - -After a couple of miles he came in sight of the beautiful tower of -Groton School Chapel. Two or three times he had played for his school -against this famous institution in the years that seemed now so far -behind him. The town of Groton, some distance from the more modern -school, charmed his senses. Restful houses among immemorial elms, well -kept gardens and a general air of contentment made the town one to be -remembered even in New England. - -He hoped he would be able to find something about Apthorpe from some -local historian without having to lead openly to the matter. A luncheon -at the famous Inn might discover some such informant. But he was not -destined to enter that admirable hostelry for coming toward him, with -dignified carriage and an aura of fragrant havana smoke about him, was -Mr. Westward whom he had known slightly at Kennebago. This Mr. Westward -was the most widely known fisherman on the famous lake, an authority -wherever wet-fly men foregathered. - -Trent would have preferred to meet none who knew him by name. This was a -professional adventure and not a trout fishing vacation. But the angler -had already recognized him and there was no help for it. Westward rather -liked Anthony Trent as he liked all men who were skilled in the use of -the wet-fly and were, in his own published words, "high-minded, -fly-fishing sportsmen." - -"Why, my dear fellow," said Westward genially, "what are you doing in my -home town?" - -"I'd no idea you lived here," Trent said, shaking his hand. "I thought -you were a New Yorker." - -Westward pointed to a modest house. "This is what I call my office," he -explained. "I do my writing there and house my fishing tackle and my -specimens." - -"I wish you'd let me see them," Trent suggested smiling. "I've often -marveled at the way you catch 'em." - -It was past twelve when he had finished talking over what Mr. Westward -had to show. He realized he had forgotten the matter which brought him -to Groton. When Mr. Westward asked him to luncheon he hesitated a -moment. This hesitation was born not of a disinclination to accept the -angler's hospitality but rather to the feeling that he was out for -business and if he failed at it might be led as a criminal to whatever -jail was handy. And were he thus a prisoner it would embarrass a good -sportsman. But Mr. Westward gained his point and led Trent to a big -rambling house further down the street that was a rich store house of -the old and quaint furniture of Colonial days. - -Mrs. Westward proved to be a woman of charm and culture, endowed with a -quick wit and a gift of entertaining comment on what local happenings -were out of the ordinary. - -"Has Charles told you of the murder?" she asked. - -"We've been talking fish," Anthony Trent explained. - -"Oh you fishermen!" she laughed. "I often tell my husband he won't take -any notice of the Last Trump if he's fishing or talking of trout. We -actually had a murder here last night." - -"I hope it was some one who could be easily spared," Trent returned, -"and not a friend." - -"I could spare him," Mrs. Westward said decisively. "I know his wife and -she has my friendship but for Andrew Apthorpe I have never cared." - -"Apthorpe?" Trent cried. "The cotton man?" - -"The same," Mrs. Westward assured him. - -Anthony Trent was suddenly all attention. He surmised that the murder of -so rich a man was actuated by a desire for his collection. And if so, -where was the Takowaja emerald? - -"Please tell me," he entreated, "murders fascinate me. If the penalty -were not so severe I should engage in murder constantly. What was it? -Revenge? Robbery?" - -"Yes and no," Charles Westward observed with that judicial air which -confounded questioners. "Revenge no doubt. Robbery perhaps, but we are -awaiting the arrival of Mrs. Apthorpe and her daughter. We shall not -know until then whether his collection of valuables has been stolen." - -"What about the revenge theory?" Trent inquired. - -"Apthorpe made many enemies as a younger man. Physically he was violent. -There are no doubt many who detested him. Personally I had no quarrel -with him. I sent him a mess of trout from the Unkety brook this season -and had a little talk with him over the phone but he saw few except his -lawyer and business associates." - -"Is any one suspected in particular?" Trent asked. - -"The whole thing is mysterious," Mrs. Westward declared with animation. -"Last night at eight o'clock I received a telephone message from his -nurse, a Miss Thompson, a woman I hardly know. Once or twice I have seen -her at the Red Cross meetings but that is all. She apologized for -calling but said she felt nervous. It seems that Mr. Apthorpe had let -all the servants go off to the band concert at Ayer. There were two -automobiles filled with them. The only people left were Miss Thompson in -the house and a gardener who lives in a cottage on the grounds. They -left the house just after dinner--say half past seven. At a quarter to -eight a stranger called to see Mr. Apthorpe." - -"Accurately timed," commented Mr. Westward. - -"Miss Thompson declined to admit him. You must understand, Mr. Trent, -that Andrew Apthorpe was a very sick man, heart trouble mainly, and she -was within her rights. The man who would not give his name put his foot -in the door and said he would see Mr. Apthorpe if he waited there all -night. While she was arguing with him, begging him, in fact, to go away, -her employer came to the head of the stairs that lead from the main -rooms to the hall. Miss Thompson explained what had happened. To her -surprise he said, 'I have been expecting him for twenty years. Let him -in.'" - -"Why should she call you up?" Trent asked. - -"Merely because she was nervous and knew other people even less than she -did me." Mrs. Westward hesitated a moment. "There have been rumors about -her and Mr. Apthorpe which were not pleasant. They were probably not -true but when a man has lived as he had it was not surprising. She -called me up at eight because the two men were quarreling. My husband -told you he was a man of violent temper. That is putting it mildly. I -told her there was nothing to be alarmed about. At nine she called me up -again to say that she would be grateful if Mr. Westward and my nephew -Richmond, who is staying with me, would go up there as she had heard -blows struck and Mr. Apthorpe was too ill to engage in any sort of -tussle. I told her my two men were out but that the police should be -called in. While I was talking she gave a shriek--it was a most dramatic -moment and I could hear her steps running from the telephone." - -"My nephew and I came in at that moment," Westward interrupted, "and -went up the hill to the house as fast as possible. Mrs. Westward -meanwhile had telephoned for the police. Miss Thompson was waiting on -the steps. She was hysterical and afraid to go back into the lonely -house." - -"Richmond said he thought she had been drinking," his wife interjected. - -"That meant nothing," Westward observed, "she was hysterical and I don't -wonder in that great lonely house. When we went in with the police we -found the big living room door locked with the key on the inside. We had -to break it open and found it bolted. Evidently the stranger had seen to -that. Old Apthorpe was lying dead shot through the head with a bullet -from his own revolver. The window was open. There was a twelve-foot drop -to the grass outside and the man had lowered himself by a portiere. So -far not a trace has been found of him. A great many people pass through -here on the way to or from Boston and we have become so used to -strangers that no heed is paid to them any more." - -"Was there any evidence of robbery?" Trent asked. - -"Not a trace so far as we could see. I mean by that there was no -disorder. Things of value might have been taken but nothing had been -broken open. We shan't know until Mrs. Apthorpe comes." - -"It was evidently," Mr. Westward declared, "some man whom he had been -expecting. Miss Thompson, according to her story, did not know the man's -name and yet was told to admit him. It may be the police will find it -from correspondence." - -"I doubt it," Trent observed shaking his head. "If it was a man Apthorpe -had dreaded for a score of years he wouldn't be corresponding with -him." - -"Then why was he admitted?" asked Mrs. Westward. - -"Consider the circumstances," Anthony Trent reminded her. He was -becoming thoroughly interested. "Here he was almost in the house, his -foot in the door. All the servants were away. No matter what Apthorpe -said he would have got in. What more likely than that the proud -overbearing old man felt sufficient confidence in his nerve and his -revolver? Or if he didn't he would not admit it. The curious part to my -mind was how this unknown timed it so exactly. He turned up just as the -servants were going out for the evening." He turned to Mrs. Westward, -"Why didn't Miss Thompson telephone for police aid do you suppose? Does -it seem strange to you that she telephoned to you instead?" - -"Knowing Andrew Apthorpe it does not," she answered. "He would have been -furious if she had done so. To begin with he has had many squabbles with -the local authorities over trumpery matters. He was most unpopular. The -last thing he would have desired would be to have them in his house. -None of the servants were from Groton and he would not have them -associating with local people." - -Anthony Trent ruminated for a little. So far nothing had been developed -which offered a reasonable solution of the problem. And the problem for -him was a different one from that which would confront the police. -Trent's problem was to secure the Takowaja emerald. So far neither of -the Westwards had mentioned it. Probably for the reason that they did -not know of its existence. It would be unwise, he decided, to try to -lead them to talk of the dead man's collection of jewels. But he felt -reasonably certain in his own mind that in this carefully guarded house, -replete with burglar alarms and safety appliances, the treasure from the -Ural Mountains had been reposing within a dozen hours. The stranger who -had come after a score of years and had left murder in his trail, was -more likely to have come for the great green stone than anything else. - -"I wish I could have a look at the place," he said presently. - -"Amateur detective?" laughed Mrs. Westward. - -"I can't imagine anything being more exciting," he admitted, "than to -follow this mysterious man except, perhaps, to be the man himself and -outwit the detectives." - -"Why not take Mr. Trent up there, Charles?" - -Plainly Mr. Westward was not eager to do so. This was due to a dislike -to invade premises under police supervision to which he had no business -except a friendly curiosity. Still there would be no harm done. He had -known the Apthorpes for years and perhaps Anthony Trent might be an aid. -Some one had told him Trent was an expert in the oil market. He had no -reason to believe him anything but a man of probity. - -"It might be arranged," he said slowly. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE MURDER OF ANDREW APTHORPE - - -THE Apthorpe estate ran parallel to the main street of the town but the -house itself was perched on a hill almost a mile distant from it. A long -winding ascent led to a big stone, turreted mansion commanding an -extensive view of the country that lay about it. A well kept lawn three -hundred yards in width surrounded the house. - -"The place was built," Mr. Westward explained, "by Colonel Crofton, the -railroad man. On this lawn were great beds of rhododendrons which cost a -great deal of money. When Apthorpe bought it he had them torn up and -sown in grass. He said the flower beds and shrubberies were places where -burglars might conceal themselves by day to break in by night." - -"He was certainly suspicious," Trent commented. - -Westward pointed to the house which rose like a fortress above them. - -"When Crofton had it there were windows on the ground level and several -entrances. Apthorpe had them filled with granite all except that big -doorway opposite." - -By this time Trent was near enough to see that the house was not remote -from buildings such as the stables and garages which are adjacent to -most such residences. He remarked on the peculiarity. - -"The automobiles are kept in the basement of the house," Westward -explained. "The big doors I pointed out to you cannot be opened by the -chauffeurs. When they want to go out or come in they have to phone for -permission. Then Mr. Apthorpe or some one else would touch a button in -his big living room and the gates would swing open. He had a searchlight -on the tower until the Federal authorities forbade it." - -"It seems to me he must have lived in dread of violence," Trent -observed, "and yet why should he? He was a well known Boston broker of -an old New England family, not the kind one would think involved in -crime. In fiction it is the man who comes home after spending half his -life in the mysterious East that one suspects of robbing gods of their -jeweled eyes and incurring the sworn vengeances of their priests." - -"All men who collect precious stones live in dread," Charles Westward -said. "I've never seen any of his things. I'm not interested in them -particularly. I've always talked about fishing when I've been there, but -it's common knowledge that he was going to leave his valuables to the -Museum of Fine Arts. One of the things which incensed his wife was that -he wouldn't give her or her daughter any of the jewels but preferred to -keep them locked away." - -A flight of twenty granite steps led to the main entrance, two heavily -built, metal studded doors. A lofty hall was disclosed with a circular -stairway around it. Leading from the hall to what seemed the main room -on that floor was a flight of six steps. The chestnut doors had been -shattered. Obviously it was the room in which Apthorpe had met his -death. For the rest it looked in no way different from half a hundred -other rooms in big houses which Trent had investigated professionally. -Bookshelves not more than four feet in height lined three sides of the -apartment. Making a pretense of reading the titles Trent looked to see -whether they were indeed volumes or mere blinds. The policeman in -charge, knowing Mr. Westward well, was only too willing to show him and -his friend what was to be seen. The body, he explained, was in an upper -chamber. - -One peculiarity Trent noted in the book cases. Apparently there was no -way to open them. They were of metal painted over. If keyholes existed -they were hidden from view. Fearing that the policeman in charge would -notice his scrutiny, he walked over to the open window and looked out. -It was from this that the murderer made his escape. Twelve feet below -the green closely cropped turf touched the granite foundation of the -walls. - -When Mr. Westward offered him a cigar he took out his pipe instead and -knocked out the ashes against the window ledge. Mr. Westward heard an -exclamation of annoyance and asked its cause. Then he saw that while the -stem of the pipe remained in its owner's hand the bowl had fallen to the -lawn below. - -"I won't be a minute," Trent said, and went down the main steps to the -grounds. It was no accident that led him to drop his favorite briar. His -keen eyes had seen footprints in the grass as he looked down. They might -well be the marks of him who had stolen the famous emerald and Trent had -decreed a private vendetta against one who might have robbed him for -what he came into Massachusetts. Searching for the pipe bowl which he -had instantly detected he made a rapid examination of the ground. - -There were indeed footprints made undoubtedly by some one dropping from -the end of the portiere to the soft turf. And as he gazed, the -mysterious man whom he had suspected faded into thin air. They were the -imprints of the high heels that only women wear! Carefully he followed -them as far as the big gates of the garage. They were not distinct to -any but a trained observer. They were single tracks leading from the -grass beneath the window to the garage. Not an unnecessary step had been -taken. Apparently the local police had pulled in the portiere from the -window and had made no examination of the grass below. - -Trent noticed that a man, evidently a gardener, was approaching him. -Quickly he dropped the bowl of his pipe again among some clover. The man -was eager and obliging. Furthermore he had heavily shod feet which were -already making their impression on the turf to the undoing of any who -might seek, as Anthony Trent had done, to make a careful examination. -Already the high heeled imprints were obliterated. - -When the pipe was found the man insisted on speaking of the murder. He -declared that for an hour on the fatal night a big touring car had been -drawn up near his cottage in a lane nearby and that two men got out of -it leaving another in charge. - -Trent shook him off as soon as he could and returned to the house, his -previously held theories wholly upset. He had built them in the facts or -falsities carefully supplied by Miss Thompson and he was anxious to see -the lady. It was most likely that the woman who had lowered herself from -the window was the woman who had committed the murder. And for what -could the crimes have been committed so readily as the Takowaja emerald? - -He recalled now that there had been a certain reserve in the Westwards' -manner when they had spoken of Miss Thompson. Might they not have -suspected her and yet feared to voice these suspicions to a stranger? - -As he thought it over he came to the conclusion that it was not of the -crime of murder they suspected her but perhaps because of her relations -with so notorious a man as the late Andrew Apthorpe. He remembered that -the dead man's family was alienated from him, possibly for this very -reason. - -He was given an opportunity very shortly to see the nurse. She came -along the hall, not seeing him as he stood in the entrance, and made her -way toward Mr. Westward. She was a tall woman, quietly dressed and not -in nurses' uniform. Her walk was studied and her gestures exaggerated. -She was that hard, blond type overladen with affectation to one who -observed carelessly. But Trent could see she had a jaw like a prize -fighter and her carefully pencilled eyes were intrinsically bellicose. -She had a big frame and was, he judged, muscularly strong. And of course -nurses must have good nerves. If she had the emerald he was determined -to obtain, it would not be an easy conquest. - -Her greeting of Mr. Westward was effusive. Indeed it seemed too effusive -to please him. He was courteous and expressed sympathy. She talked -volubly. She related in detail the events of the previous night and the -listener noticed that she was letter perfect. The only new angle he got -was a description of the supposed murderer. According to Nurse Thompson -he was about fifty, wore a short grizzled moustache, was of medium -height but very broad, and dressed in a dark gray suit. In accent she -judged him to be a Westerner. She would recognize him, she declared -dramatically, among ten million. - -Trent had no wish to meet her--yet. He had seen her, recognized a -predacious and formidable type and had observed she wore expensive shoes -with fashionably high heels. - -Presently Charles Westward joined him. - -"I've been talking to Miss Thompson," he volunteered. - -"I saw you," Trent said, "but supposed it was one of the family. She -wasn't dressed as a nurse." - -"She doesn't act like one," Westward answered. "Richmond was right. That -woman drinks. I don't like her, Mr. Trent." - -"I suppose she needs sympathy now that her position is lost?" - -The more Anthony Trent thought over the matter the more thoroughly he -became convinced that the mysterious stranger of whom the nurse spoke -had no existence. If she had killed her employer she would not have done -so unless it were to her advantage. And what better reason could there -be, were she criminally minded, than some of his famous jewels? Trent -determined to follow the thing up. He chuckled to think that he was now -on the opposite side of the fence, the hunter instead of the hunted. -But that was no reason that he should aid his enemy the law. If he -devoted his talents to the running down of the murderer he wanted the -reward for himself. - -Supposing that she had planned the crime, the opportunity was hers when -she had the old man alone in the house. She would have been far too -clever to use her knowledge of drugs to poison him. By such a ruse she -would inevitably have incurred suspicion. If his assumption were correct -she had been very clever. At eight o'clock she had started the ball -rolling. At nine she had strengthened her position by some acting clever -enough to deceive Mrs. Westward. And when they had reached her primed by -her story of the threatening stranger they had found her waiting -hysterically for their aid. No doubt she had been drinking. Most women -hate using firearms for violent purposes unless the act is one of -suddenly inspired fury when the deed almost synchronizes with the -impelling thought. - -She had planned the thing carefully. She had, if his theory held, -probably shot the old man as he sat reading. Then she had locked and -barred the great doors and lowered herself to the ground and entered by -the garage door which she could have opened from above. Thus the men -coming to her aid found a scene prepared which her ingenuity had led -them to expect as entirely reasonable. - -"By the way," he demanded suddenly, "how long was the doctor or coroner -in getting to Mr. Apthorpe?" - -"He didn't get there until midnight. His motor broke down." - -It was thus impossible to fix accurately the time of Apthorpe's death. - -As they turned from the drive into Groton's main street a big limousine -passed them. To its occupants Mr. Westward raised his hat. - -"Mrs. Apthorpe," he explained, "her daughter and son-in-law, Hugh -Fanwood. The other man was Wilkinson the lawyer who acts for Mrs. -Apthorpe." He paused as another car turned into the drive. "Look like -detectives," he commented. "We are well out of it." - -That night Anthony Trent went back to New York. Twenty-four hours later -his fast runabout drew up at the Westward's hospitable home. - -"I brought my car over from Boston," he explained untruthfully, "on my -way back to New York by way of the Berkshires and dropped in to see if -there was any news in the Apthorpe murder case. The Boston papers had -very little I didn't already know." - -He learned a great deal that interested him. First that Nurse Thompson -had been left fifty thousand dollars in the Apthorpe will. This, on the -advice of counsel, would not be contested, as the widow desired, on the -ground of undue influence. Her daughter Mrs. Hugh Fanwood was not -desirous of publicity. - -Secondly one of the most famous jewels in the world had been stolen. - -"Imagine it," Mrs. Westward exclaimed, "for five years an emerald that -was once in a Tsarina's crown has been within a mile of us and not a -soul in Groton knew of it. It was worth a fortune. _Now_ we know why the -poor man was done to death." - -"Have they any clue?" he demanded. - -"They have offered a reward of ten thousand dollars. Miss Thompson's -description of the man has been circulated widely and caused arrests in -every town in the state. The house is being searched by a detective -agency but we all believe it's useless. I don't think Amelia Apthorpe -behaved at all well. She insisted on having everybody searched who was -in the house. Not Charles of course but every one she didn't know and -some whom she did." - -"I was in the house," Trent reminded them, "perhaps I ought to offer -myself." - -"No, no," Westward exclaimed, "I told Mrs. Apthorpe who you were. I said -you bought the Stanley camp on Kennebago and that I could vouch for -you." - -"That's mighty nice of you," Trent responded warmly. It was at a moment -like this when he realized he was deceiving a good sportsman that he -hated the life he had chosen. It was one of the reasons that he denied -himself friends. "Did she have any sort of scrap with Miss Thompson?" - -"It's too mild a word," said Westward. "After the nurse's things were -searched she was told to go. Then she said she should bring an action -against Mrs. Apthorpe for defamation of character and illegal search. -She promised that there would be enough scandal unearthed to satisfy -even the yellow press. I don't suppose poor Amelia Apthorpe knew there -were such lurid words in or out of the dictionary until the Thompson -woman flung them at her." - -"Will she bring action, do you think?" - -"I think she's too shrewd. From what Hugh Fanwood told me they had -looked up her record and found it shady. She _was_ a graduate nurse -once. Her diploma is genuine and the doctor here tells me she knew her -business, but there are other things that she wouldn't want in print. I -think we've seen the last of her. She'll get her fifty thousand dollars -and when she's gone through that she'll find some other old fool to fall -for her." - -So far, Trent's conjecture as to her character had been accurate. The -death of Apthorpe meant a large sum of money to her while the legacy -remained unrevoked. He could not marry her since he was not divorced -from his wife. Perhaps he had believed in her sufficiently to show her -his peerless emerald. Or perhaps he had only hinted at its glories and -she had become possessed of the secret of its whereabouts. In any case -Anthony Trent firmly believed she had it. It was quite likely that she -had secreted it somewhere in the grounds of the mansion to retrieve it -without risk later on. What woman except Nurse Thompson would have -lowered herself from the room to the turf below on the night of the -murder? And was it not likely that the emerald was the cause of the -tragedy? The whole history of precious stones could be written in blood. -In any case it was a working hypothesis sound enough for Trent to have -faith in. - -In accordance with the advice of lawyers and relatives Mrs. Andrew -Apthorpe decided to place no obstacle in the way of the departure of -Nurse Thompson. She told Mrs. Westward she was certain the woman had -taken the diamond ring she flaunted and that it had not been a gift, as -she claimed, from her employer. Furthermore it was evident that she had -made a good deal of money in padding the household expenses. - -Detectives, meanwhile, clinging faithfully to the description so -generously amplified by Miss Thompson of the thief in the night, were -hunting everywhere for him and his loot. - -The _West Groton Gazette_ supplied Anthony Trent with some much needed -information. It printed in its social columns the news that Miss Norah -Thompson was to make an extended stay in the West, making her first long -stop at San Francisco. Until then she was staying with a married sister -in East Boston. Since the name was given in full Anthony Trent had -little difficulty in finding what he needed. An operative from a Boston -detective agency gleaned the facts while Trent made a pleasant stay at -the Touraine. To the operative he was a Mr. Graham Maltby of Chicago. - -When he went West on the same train as the now resplendent Miss Norah -Thompson he was possessed of a vast amount of information concerning -her. In St. Louis six years before she had badly beaten a man whom she -declared had broken his engagement to marry her. She was a singularly -violent disposition and had figured in half a dozen cases which wound up -in police courts. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A THIEF TO CATCH A THIEF - - -IT was not a matter of much difficulty for Trent, still Mr. Maltby, to -become acquainted with male members of the set in San Francisco which -Miss Thompson affected. He knew that she dined each night at a cafe -which attracted many motion picture people. And he learned that there -was a producer from Los Angeles now looking for easy money in San -Francisco who was very friendly with her. Since this man Weiller was -easy of approach to such as seemed prosperous it was not difficult for -Trent to strike up an acquaintance one day at the St Charles. Weiller -first of all, as became a loyal native son, spoke of climate. Then with -even greater enthusiasm he spoke of the movies as money-makers. He -wanted to get a little money together, put on a feature and sell it. He -arranged all the details on the back of a St. Charles menu card. He had -an idea which, if William Reynard of New York could learn of it, would -bring that eminent producer of features a cool million. - -Anthony Trent hung back with the lack of interest a man with money to -invest may properly exhibit. Weiller was sure he had money. He lived at -a first class hotel, he dined well and he was a "dresser" to be admired. -Also Weiller had seen a sizeable roll of bills on occasion. - -There came a night when at Anthony Trent's expense, Miss Norah Thompson, -Weiller and a svelte girl called by Weiller California's leading -"anjenou," partook of a sumptuous repast. Had it not been that Trent was -out for business the whole thing would have disgusted him. Weiller and -Norah were blatantly vulgar and intent on impressing their host. The -"anjenou" said a hundred times that he was like one of her dearest -"gentlemen friends" now being featured by the Jewbird Film company. Her -friend was handsome but she liked Anthony's nose better. - -With coffee came the great scheme. Weiller wanted to make a five reel -feature of the Andrew Apthorpe murder. Norah Thompson was to play the -lead! - -"It'll knock 'em dead!" cried Weiller. "Gee! What press agent stuff!" He -helped himself with a hand trembling from excitement to another gulp of -wine. "My boy, you're in luck. We'll go into this thing on equal shares. -I'm putting up fifty thousand dollars and you shall put up a like sum. -We'll clear up five hundred per cent." - -"You've put up fifty thousand in actual cash?" Trent demanded. - -"That's what I capitalize my knowledge of pictures at," Weiller -explained. - -"George is one of the best known producers in the game," Miss Thompson -said, a trifle nettled at what she thought was a smile of contempt on -the other's face. "He don't need your money. I've got enough in this bag -right here to produce it." She waived a black moire bag before Trent's -eyes. - -George Weiller looked at her and frowned. What a foolish project, he -thought, to spend one's own money when here was a victim. - -"You keep that, little one," he said generously. "We're gentlemen; we -don't want to take a lady's money. We'll talk it over later." - -A keen salesman, he noted Trent was growing restive. If the matter were -persisted in he might either take a fright or take offence. All this he -explained later. "You see, Norah," he remarked, "that guy has a chin on -him that means you can't drive him." - -"He's got a cold, nasty eye," said Norah who was not without her just -fears of strangers. - -"I'm going to play the game so he'll beg me to let him in on it," -Weiller boasted. "I know the way to play that sort of bird." - -The negotiations resulted in Trent's seeing a great deal more of this -precious couple than he cared for. The "anjenou" finding her charms made -no impression on him was rarely included in the little dinners and -excursions. - -It was when Trent had met Miss Thompson a dozen times that he consulted -the notes he had made on each occasion. It was a method of working -unique so far as he could learn. It might yield no results in a thousand -cases. In the thousand and first it might be the clue. It was nothing -more than a list of the costumes he had seen the ex-nurse wear. - -On going through the list he saw that whereas Miss Thompson had worn a -new dress on each occasion of the dinners in public restaurants with -shoes and hosiery to harmonize or match the color scheme of her gown she -had always carried the black moire bag. And since it was a fashion of -the moment for women to own many and elaborate bags of this sort to -match or harmonize with the color scheme or details of their costumes, -it seemed odd that Norah Thompson, who had been buying everything that -seemed modish, should fail to follow the way of the well dressed. - -The bag as he remembered it was about seven inches wide and perhaps ten -inches long. It was closed by a silver buckle and a pendant of some sort -swung at each corner. Concentrating upon it he remembered they were not -beads but made of the same material as the bag itself and in size about -that of an English walnut. He called to mind the fact that he had never -seen her without this bag. Why should she cling so closely to what was -already demode? Were he a genuine detective the problem had been an easy -one. He could seize the bag, search it and denounce her. But that would -entail giving up a priceless stone for a few thousand dollars of reward. - -On the pretext of having to buy a present for a Chicago cousin, Anthony -Trent led the willing Weiller into one of the city's exclusive -department stores. Weiller was anxious to do anything and everything for -his new friend. That night he, Norah and some other friends were to be -Trent's guests at a very recherche dinner. He felt, as the born salesman -senses these things, that he would get his answer that night and that it -would be favorable. And with fifty thousand dollars to play with he -might do anything. Probably the last project would be to make a picture -himself. - -Trent asked to be shown the very latest thing in bags. The counter was -presently laden with what the salesgirl claimed to be direct -importations from Paris. Trent selected one which he said would suit -his cousin. - -"You ought to get one for Norah," he said. "What color is she going to -wear to-night?" - -"Light blue," Weiller returned almost sulkily. He had been with her when -she purchased the gown and resented the extravagance. If she went on at -that rate there would be nothing left for him. "What they call gentian -blue." - -The salesgirl picked out an exquisite blue bag on which the lilies of -France had been painted daintily by hand. It was further decorated with -a border of fleur-de-lis in seed pearls. - -"This is the biggest bargain we have," the girl assured them. "The -government won't allow any more to be brought over. It's marked down to -a hundred dollars." She looked at George Weiller, "Will you take it?" - -"I'm not sure it's the shade my friend wants," he prevaricated. In -reality he cursed Trent for dragging him into a proposition which could -cost such a sum. He had not a tenth of the amount upon him. - -"I'll take it," Trent said carelessly, pushing a hundred dollar bill -over the counter, "I've plenty of cousins and girls always like these -things." - -Weiller sighed enviously. He often remarked if he could capitalize his -brains he would pay an income tax of a million dollars; but that did not -prevent him from being invariably short of ready money. - -He was looking forward to the dinner Trent was to give him and his -friends that night. Besides Norah there were five other moving picture -people who were to be used to impress Trent with their knowledge of the -game and the money he could make out of it. They would be amply repaid -by the dinner; for there are those who serve the screened drama whose -salaries are small. These ancilliary salesmen and women were to meet at -half past six in the furnished flat Norah Thompson had rented. There -they were to be drilled. - -It was while they were receiving the finishing touches that Anthony -Trent knocked upon the door, blandly announcing that he had brought an -automobile to take Norah and George to the hotel where he was staying. - -Instantly the gathering registered impatience to start. Weiller, always -suspicious, feared that Trent might think it curious that so many were -engaged in earnest conversation, and he wondered if their voices had -carried to the hall where Trent had waited. - -Suave and courteous, Trent made himself at home among the crowd of -people who were, so they informed him, world famous in a screen sense. - -Trent, as usual, had timed things accurately. It was part of his scheme -that Norah should want to banish from his mind the idea that there had -been any collusion. She was bright and vivacious in her manner toward -him. - -"You are a sweet man," she exclaimed, "I'm dreadfully hungry--and -thirsty. Come on boys and girls." - -He noticed that although arrayed in a new costume of blue, she clung to -her back moire bag. He called Weiller aside while Norah mixed a last -cocktail for the men. - -"George," he whispered, "that blue bag I bought is just the thing to -give Norah." George felt a parcel thrust into his hand. "It's a little -present from me to you and she mustn't know I bought it." - -"She shan't from me," Weiller said almost tremulously. Nothing could -have happened more delightfully. Not ten minutes ago in the presence of -his even less prosperous motion picture colleagues, Norah had called him -a tightwad who didn't think enough of the woman he was to marry to buy -her a ring. He explained that easily enough by saying nothing in San -Francisco was good enough for her and that he was ordering one from New -York. This present from a rich and careless spender would prove -affluence no less than affection. "Thanks, old man, a million times." - -Norah was at the door when he presented it. She was genuinely affected -by the gift. Perhaps her thanks were even warmer when one of her friends -picked up the sales slip which had fluttered to the ground and read -aloud the price. "I'm tired of that black bag," George complained. - -"Norah's never going to carry that when she's got this," one of the -other women cried. "It matches her gown exactly." - -"I took care of that," George said complacently. "I told the saleswoman -to get me the best she had but it must be gentian blue." - -There seemed a momentary hesitation before the black bag was discarded. -To cling to it at such a moment would be to court suspicion. This was -Trent's strategy. Her manner was not lost upon one of the others, a -character woman named Richards. - -"Why, George," she laughed, "I believe a former lover gave Norah that -bag and she hates to part with it. I was in a picture once where the -heroine carried the ashes of her first sweetheart around with her. I'd -look into it if I was you." - -Nonchalantly Norah emptied the contents of the black bag into the new -one. Then she pitched the old one onto a chair. - -"Now for the eats," she said cheerily. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE SECRET OF THE BLACK BAG - - -THE dinner was a wearisome affair to Trent. His companions were vulgar, -their conversation tedious and the flattery they offered him nauseous. -It was exactly half-past nine when a waiter came to his side and told -him there was a long distance call for him from Denver. Apologizing he -left the table. - -"His brother is a mining man out in Colorado," Weiller informed the -company. "They're a rich bunch, the Chicago Maltbys." - -"They can't come too rich for us," one of his friends chuckled. "Pass me -the wine, George." - -"This is a great little opportunity for rehearsing," Weiller reminded -them. "I've got to sign this bird up to-night. If I do we'll have -another little dinner on Saturday with a souvenir beside each plate." - -Directly Trent reached the hotel lobby he slipped the waiter a five -dollar bill. "If they get impatient," he cautioned the man, "say I'm -still busy on the long distance and must not be interrupted." - -Five minutes later he opened the door of Norah's flat and turned on the -light. There, upon a chair, was the bag on which he had built so many -hopes. His long sensitive fingers felt each of the pendants. Then with -the small blade of a pocket knife he cut a few stitches and drew out the -Takowaja emerald. For a full minute he gazed at its green glittering -glory. Then from a waistcoat pocket he took the brilliant which had been -purchased with the Benares lamp. They were much of a size and he placed -the glass where the jewel had been and with a needle of black silk -already prepared sewed up the cut stitches. The whole time occupied from -entering the apartment to leaving it was not five minutes. He was back -with his guests within a quarter of an hour. - -"You must have had good news," Norah exclaimed when he took his seat. -His face which had been expressionless before was now lighted up. He was -a new man, vivacious, witty and bubbling over with fun. - -"I had very good news," he smiled, "I put through a deal which means a -whole lot to me. Let's have some more wine to celebrate." - -The dinner was taking place in a private room and he had insisted that -the service be of the best. Now he was free from the tension that -inevitably preceded one of his adventures he could enjoy himself. For -the first time he looked at the omnibus by the door behind him. It was -not the youthful fledgling waiter he expected to see but a big, dark man -with a black moustache and imperial. Norah observed his glance. - -"George offered to star him as the mysterious count but the poor wop -don't speak English." - -"I'll bet he left spaghetti land because he done a murder," George -commented, "a nasty looking rummy I call him." - -"I'll swear he wasn't here when I went to the 'phone," said Trent. "I -should have noticed him." - -None heard him. The new bottle demanded attention. There was something -vaguely familiar about the face but for the life of him Trent could not -place it. Uneasily he was aware that the man of whom this strange waiter -reminded him had come at a moment of danger. The more he looked the more -certain he was that imperial and moustache were the disguising features. -But it is not easy to strip such appendages off in the mind's eye and -see clearly what lies beneath. But there was a way to do so. On the back -of an envelope Trent sketched the waiter as he appeared. It was a good -likeness. Then with the rubber on his pencil end he erased moustache and -imperial. The face staring at him now was beyond a question that of -Devlin, the man who had run foul of him over the case of the Mount Aubyn -ruby. He remembered now that Devlin had left Jerome Dangerfield's employ -to join a New York detective agency. - -What was Devlin doing here disguised as a waiter if not on his trail? -And pressed against his side was a stone of world fame. There was no -possibility of escape. The dining room was twenty feet from the street -below and he had no way of reaching it. The door was guarded by Devlin -and outside in the corridor waiters flitted to and fro. "Old Sir Richard -caught at last." - -He was roused from his eager scheming by a waiter asking what liqueur he -would have. Automatically he ordered the only liqueur he liked, green -chartreuse. Would Devlin allow the party to break up? If so he had a -place of safety already prepared for the emerald. But if arrest and -search were to take place before he could reach his room there was no -help. He would be lucky to get off with fifteen years. - -Something told him that Devlin was about to act. Waiters were now -grouped about the door. He knew that Devlin must long ago have marked -him down and this was the final scene. And yet, oddly enough, when -suddenly the door closed and a truculent detective advanced to the table -tearing off moustache and imperial, Anthony Trent, who had not left his -seat, had no longer the incriminating stone upon him. He felt, in fact, -reasonably secure. - -"Quiet youze," Devlin shouted and flashed a badge at them. Five of the -eight felt certain he had come for them. Weiller owed much money in the -vicinity of Fort Lee, New Jersey and was never secure. And more than -that he had passed many opprobrious remarks concerning the waiter whom -he supposed did not understand him. - -"I'm employed," said Devlin, "to recover the emerald stolen from the -home of the late Andrew Apthorpe of Groton, Massachusetts, on the third -of last month, and you can be searched here or in the station house." - -"It's an outrage," exclaimed Miss Richards the character woman. - -"Sure it is," Devlin agreed cynically, "but what are you going to do -about it?" - -A woman operative was introduced who took the ladies of the party into -an adjoining room for search. The emerald was not found. The search -revealed merely, that Miss Richards had been souvenir hunting and her -spoils were a knife, spoon and olive fork. - -The men had passed the ordeal successfully. That they had made the most -of their host's temporary absence the pockets full of cigars, cigarettes -and salted almonds testified. Anthony Trent seemed hugely amused at the -procedure. Alone of them he did not breathe suits for defamation of -character and the like. - -"I have rooms here," he reminded Devlin, "by all means search them." - -"I have," snapped the other, showing his teeth. - -"I regret I didn't bring my golf clubs," Trent taunted him. - -"I hope I'll put you in a place where they don't play golf," Devlin -cried angrily. "I'm wise to you." - -"It's good he's wise to something," shouted Miss Richards. - -"Isn't it?" Trent returned equably. "I've had no experience of it so -far." He resumed his seat and beckoned a waiter, "Some more coffee. Sit -down, ladies, the ordeal is over." - -"Not by a long shot," snarled Devlin, "I've got a search warrant to -search the apartment rented by Norah Thompson and I want you, Weiller, -to come with me." He turned to the moving picture celebrities--self -confessed celebrities--"as for you, you'd better beat it quick." - -Devlin's last impression of the ornate dining room was the sight of the -debonair Trent sipping his green chartreuse. Devlin ground his strong -teeth when the other raised the green filled glass and drank his health. - -He was not to know that in the glass invisible amid the enveloping fluid -was the Takowaja emerald, slipped there in the moment of peril. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -DEVLIN'S PROMISE - - -HALF an hour later the stone, reposing in a tin box of cigarettes, was -in the mails on the way to Trent's camp at Kennebago. Mrs. Kinney had -instructions to hold all mail and its safety was thus assured. There was -nothing more to fear. He wanted very much to know what had happened at -Miss Thompson's apartment and proposed to call after breakfast. - -But Devlin called first upon him. It was a depressed Devlin. Not indeed -a Devlin come to be apologetic, but one less assured. - -"Well?" said Trent affably, "come to search me again. I'm getting a -little tired of it, my good man." - -"I want to know why you pass here under the name of Maltby of Chicago -when your name is Trent and you live in New York City." - -"A private detective has no right to demand any such knowledge. Last -night you took upon yourself powers and authority which we could have -resisted if we chose. You had no legal right to search us. I submitted -first because I had nothing to fear and secondly to see if the others -had the stone. I didn't think they had." - -"What do you know about the stone?" Devlin demanded suspiciously. - -"Everything except just where it is at this present moment. Between you -and me, Devlin, I'm here after it too. I was at Groton, as can easily be -proved, on the day after the murder." Trent smiled as a curious look -passed over the detective's face, "I'm going to disappoint you. I passed -the day and night in Boston when the murder was done. I have just as -much use for that ten thousand dollars as you have. By the way I suppose -you got the stone?" - -"Like hell I did," Devlin cried red in the face, "I got this." He showed -Trent the piece of cut glass which had hung in his room for so long. -"Glass, that's what it is." Devlin leaned forward and looked hard into -Anthony Trent's eyes. "You know more about this than you pretend. It -ain't accident that brings you around when two such stones as -Dangerfield's ruby and this here emerald get stolen. There's something -more to it than that. There's something mighty queer about you, Mister -Anthony Trent, and I'm going to see what it is." - -Trent looked at him for a moment and then smiled. It was the tolerant -smile of the superior. It angered Devlin. His red face grew redder -still. - -"My good Devlin," said Trent, "stupidity such as yours may be a good -armor but it is a poor diving suit." - -"Talk sense," Devlin commanded. - -"If you wish," Trent agreed easily. "I mean that you haven't the mental -equipment to live up to your desires. You have the impertinence to think -_you_ can outwit _me_. I'm your superior in everything. Mentally, -morally and physically I can beat you and in your heart you know it. I -think I've stood about as much from you as I care to take from any man. -For a time you amused me. At Sunset Park you thought you were being -very subtle searching my room with your twin ass, O'Brien, but I was -laughing at you." - -"You was drunk," said Devlin slowly. - -"That's how gin takes me," said the other, "I see the ludicrous in men -and things. Just listen to me. My past and present bears investigation. -You looked me up and you know." Trent drew his bow at a venture. "You -found that out, didn't you?" - -"Because I couldn't find anything against you doesn't prove you're what -you pretend," Devlin admitted grudgingly. - -"The point I wish to make is this," Anthony Trent said incisively, "I'm -tired of you. You bore me. You weary me. You exasperate me. I am willing -to overlook your blundering stupidity this time but if you worry me -again I shall go after you so hard you'll wish you'd never heard my -name. I've got money and that means influence. You've neither. Think it -over. Now get out." - -Devlin looked at him doubtfully. There was a strong personal animus -against Anthony Trent. He hated anything suave, smiling or polite. And -when these qualities were in conjunction with physical prowess they -spelled danger. But for the moment nothing was to be gained by violence. -Devlin essayed a genial air. - -"We all of us make mistakes," he admitted. "I'm willing to say it. I'm -sorry I've gone wrong over this case." He held out a big short fingered -hand. "Good-bye." - -"What's the use?" Trent demanded. "You will always be my enemy and I -never shake hands with an enemy if I can get out of it." - -Devlin was at a loss for the moment. It had been his experience that -when he offered a hand it was grasped gladly, eagerly. There was -something in this harder unsmiling Trent which impressed him against his -will. - -"They shake hands before the last round of a prize fight," he reminded -the other man. - -"So they do," said Trent smiling a little, and offered his hand. - - * * * * * - -Two weeks later he was compelled to concede that Devlin's pertinacity -sometimes won its reward. - -Devlin had always been an advocate of the third degree. Together with -some operatives from his agency he staged a gruesome drama into which -hysterical and frightened the drink-enervated Norah Thompson was -dragged. Under the pitiless cross-examination of these hard men she -broke down. Andrew Apthorpe's murderer was found. But the triumph was -incomplete. She convinced them that although the emerald had been hers -for a time, of its destination or present ownership she had no idea. She -went into penal servitude for life with a newspaper notoriety that made -the Takowaja emerald the most famous stone in existence. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -ON THE TRAIL OF "THE COUNTESS" - - -The expert has usually a critical sense well developed. It was so with -Anthony Trent. He read the details of all the crimes treated in the -daily press almost jealously. What the police regarded as clever -criminals were seldom such in his eyes. There were occasionally crimes -which won his admiration but they were few and far between. Violence to -Trent's mind was a confession of incompetency, the grammar school type -of crime to a university trained mind. One morning the papers were -unusually full of such examples of robberies with attendant assaults. -Clumsy work, he commented, and then came to a robbery in Long Island of -jewels whose aggregate value was more than a hundred thousand dollars. - -The home of Peter Chalmers Rosewarne at the Montauk Point end of Long -Island was the victimized abode. All Americans knew Peter Chalmers -Rosewarne. He was the "Tin King," enormously wealthy, splendidly -generous and fortune's favorite. His father had been a Cornish mining -captain who had come from Huel Basset to make a million in the United -States. His son had made ten millions. - -His Long Island place, known as St. Michael's Mount after that estate in -Cornwall near where his father had been born, was a show place. The -gardens were extraordinary. The house was filled with treasures which -only the intelligent rich may gather together. Rosewarne was a convivial -soul in the best sense of the phrase. He loved company and he loved -display and more than all he loved his wife on whom he showered the -beautiful things women adore. Abstractors of precious stones would -gravitate naturally to such a home as his. - -Anthony Trent remembered that the Rosewarne strain of Airedales was the -best the breed had to show. He had read once that Rosewarne turned his -dogs loose at nights and laughed burglars to scorn. And well he might, -for of all dogs, the gods have blessed none with such sense as the -Airedales possess. Theirs not to bark indiscriminately or bite their -master's friends. Theirs to reason why: to know instinctively what is -hidden from the lesser breeds. - -A dozen such dogs roaming their master's grounds, their guardian -instincts aroused, would effectually bar out strangers. That a robbery -had been committed at St. Michael's Mount spelled for Trent an inside -job. The papers told him that a large house party was gathered under the -hospitable Rosewarne roof. Rosewarne himself indignantly denied the -possibility of his guests' guilt. The servants seemed equally -satisfactory. - -Sifting the news Anthony Trent learned that the suspected person was a -girl who had been member of a picnic party using the Rosewarne grounds. -There was a space of nearly ten acres which the mining man had reserved -for parties, suitably recommended, who made excursions from the -Connecticut side of the Sound. Here Sunday Schools passed blameless days -and organized clambakes. The party to which the suspected girl belonged -was a camp for working girls situated on one of the Thimble Islands. - -Nearly forty of them, enjoying the privilege of the Rosewarne grounds, -had spent the day there. Mrs. Rosewarne herself had seen them depart -into the evening mist. Then she had seen, thirty minutes later, a girl -running to the water's edge. She was dressed, as were the others of her -party, with red trimmed middy blouse and red ribbons in her hair. A -brunette, rather tall and slight, and awed when the chatelaine of the -great estate asked what was the matter. It seemed she had become tired -and had slept. When she awoke the boat was gone; she had not been -missed. - -Mrs. Rosewarne was not socially inept enough to bring the simple girl to -her own sophisticated dinner table. Instead the girl had an ample meal -in the housekeeper's room. At nine o'clock a fast launch was to be ready -to take her to her camp. It might easily overtake the sail boat if the -breezes died down. - -At nine-fifteen the mechanician in charge of the boat came excitedly -into the house to relate his unhappy experiences. The girl, wrapped in -motor coat, was safely in the boat when she begged the man to get her a -glass of water from the boat house at the dock. It was while he was -doing so that the boat disappeared. He heard her call to him in fright -and then saw the boat--one capable of twenty knots an hour--glide away -with the girl holding her hands out to him supplicatingly. She had -fooled with the levers, he averred, and would probably perish in -consequence. It was while Rosewarne considered the matter of sending out -his yacht in pursuit that the discovery was made that a hundred -thousand dollars worth of jewels had been taken. - -The mechanician had been fooled, of that they were now assured, and the -working girl became a fleeing criminal. The sudden temptation through -seeing sparkling stones in profusion was the result. A number of boats -went in pursuit and the ferries were watched, but the fast motor launch -was not found. - -Considering the case from the evidence he had at command Trent was -certain it was no genuine member of the working girls' camp who had done -this thing. Every move spoke of careful preparation. Some one had chosen -a moment to appear at the Mount when suspicion would be removed and her -coming seem logical. And no ordinary person would have been able to -drive a high powered boat as she had done. Another thing which seemed -conclusive proof of his correctness was the fact that the girl had -overlooked--this was as the police phrased it--Mrs. Simeon Power's pearl -necklace and the diamond tiara belonging to Mrs. Campbell Glenelg. This -omission supported the police theory that it was the work of an -inexperienced criminal. - -Anthony Trent chuckled as he read this. He also had rejected the Power's -pearls and the Glenelg tiara. They had been in his appraising hand. -_They were both extraordinarily good imitations!_ Assuredly a timid -working girl could not be such a judge of this. She was a professional -and a clever one. Probably she had sunk the launch and swam ashore. - -Later reports veered around to his view. The camp people were highly -indignant at being saddled with a criminal. They had counted noses -before embarkation and none was missing. Mrs. Rosewarne described the -girl and so did the housekeeper. The latter, remarking on the slightly -foreign intonation, was told by the girl herself that she came from New -Bedford where her father was employed in a textile mill belonging to -Dangerfield. Like so many of the inhabitants of this mill town he was of -French Canadian stock and habitually spoke French in the home. But the -housekeeper who had served the wealthy in England and Continental Europe -would have it that this intruder come of a higher social class than New -Bedford mills afford. - -Interviewing the housekeeper in the guise of a Branford newspaper man -Trent asked her a hundred questions. And each one of her answers -confirmed the belief that had grown in him. This clever woman was "The -Countess." He felt certain of it. That slight intonation was hers. The -figure, the height, the coloring. And of course the exact knowledge of -what stones were good and what were not. This was another count against -her for Trent had marked St. Michael's Mount for his hunting ground and -now precautions against abstractors would be redoubled. - -He felt almost certain that this was the Countess's first exploit since -her escape from the hotel after the Guestwick robbery. He had followed -the papers too closely to miss any unusual crime. A woman of her -breeding need never drop to association with the typical criminal. Since -she was marooned in the United States during the war she was of -necessity cut off from her favorite Riviera hunting grounds. Where, -then, might she meet the wealthy set if not among the owners of big -estates on Long Island? Trent felt it probable that she was near some -such social center as Meadowbrook or Piping Rock. How was he to find -her? - -To begin with he decided to attend the Mineola Horse and Dog show. This -country fair, held during late September, invariably attracted, as he -knew, all the horse-loving polo-riding elements of the smart set. Not to -go there, not to be interested intelligently in horses, hounds and dogs -was a confession of ineligibility to the great Long Island homes. - -Although he entertained a bare hope of seeing her and passed the first -day in disappointment, he saw her almost directly he entered the show -grounds on the second morning. She looked very smart in her riding -habit, her hair was done in a more severe coiffure than he had noticed -before. She was talking to a well known society woman, also in riding -kit, a Mrs. Hamilton Buxton, famous for her horses and her loves. But he -could not judge from this whether or not the Countess was on friendly -terms with her or not. There is a _camaraderie_ among those who exhibit -horses or dogs which is of the ring-side and not the salon. Outside it -was possible Mrs. Hamilton Buxton might not recognize her. - -Later on he saw that both women were riding in the class for ladies' -hunters, to be ridden side saddle by the owners. So the Countess owned -hunters now! Well, he expected something of the sort from a woman who -had outwitted so astute a craftsman as himself. In a sense he was glad -of it. It was better to find her in such a set as this. When she rode -around the ring he saw by the number she bore that she was a Madame de -Beaulieu of Old Westbury. She rode very well. There was the _haute -ecole_ stamp about her work and she was placed second to Mrs. Hamilton -Buxton whose chestnut was of a better type. - -Anthony Trent went straightway to New York. He did not want to be -seen--yet. He called up a certain number and made an appointment with a -Mr. Moor. This man, David Moor, was a private detective without ambition -and without imaginative talent. It always amused Trent when he employed -a detective to find out details that were laborious in the gathering. In -some subtle manner Trent had given Moor the impression that he was a -secret service agent exceedingly high in the department. - -"Moor," he said briskly as the small and depressed David entered the -room, "I want to find all about a Madame de Beaulieu who lives in Old -Westbury, Long Island. I suspect her of being a German spy. Find out -what other members of the household there are, and who calls. Whether -they are in society or only trying to be. I want a full and reliable -report. The tradesmen know a whole lot as a rule and servants generally -talk. I want to know as soon as possible but keep on the job until you -have something real." He knew that Moor by reason of an amazingly large -family was always hard up. He handed him fifty dollars. "Take this for -expenses." - -Moor went from the room with tears in his eyes. He looked at Trent as a -loving dog looks at its master. Two years before his wife lay at the -point of death, needing, more than anything, a rest from household -worries and the noise of her offspring. Trent sent her to a sanitarium -and the children to camps for the whole of a hot summer. In his dull, -depressed fashion, Moor was always hoping that some day he could do -something to help this benefactor who waved his thanks aside. - -The report, written in Moor's small, clear writing, entertained Trent -vastly. Madame de Beaulieu was a daughter of France whose husband was -fighting as an officer of Chasseurs and had been decorated thrice. Many -pictures adorned the house of her hero. She had a French maid who -allowed herself to be very familiar with her mistress. Undoubtedly she -was the "aunt" of the Guestwick occasion. The men of the household were -doubtful according to Moor. One was Madame's secretary, an American -named Edward Conway, who looked after her properties, and the other an -Englishman, Captain Monmouth, a former officer of cavalry who had broken -an ankle in a steeple chase, so the report ran, and was debarred from -military service. He was a cousin by marriage. The servants asserted -that he was an amazingly lucky player at bridge or indeed of any card -game. So much so indeed that the neighboring estate owners who had been -inclined to be friendly were now stiffly aloof. The captain's skill at -dealing was uncanny. Bills were piling up against them all. It was due -largely to this that Moor was able to get so much information. A -vituperative tradesman sets no watch on his tongue. Conway, the -secretary, confined his work almost entirely to drinking. There were -many bitter wrangles at the table but the English tongue was never -adopted on such occasions. The part of Moor's screed which interested -Trent most was that there had been a discussion overheard by a -disgruntled maid to take in some wealthy paying guest and offer to get -him into Long Island's hunting set. It would be worth a great deal to -an ambitious man to gain an entree into some of these famous Westbury -homes. Of course the odd household could probably not live up to such -promises but its members had done a great deal. For example, a Sunday -paper in its photogravure supplement had snapped Madame de Beaulieu -talking with Mrs. Hamilton Buxton; and Captain Monmouth was there to be -seen chatting with Wolfston Colman, the great polo player. An excellent -beginning astutely planned. - -It was while Anthony Trent debated as to whether he dare risk the -Countess's recognition of him that a wholly accidental circumstance -offered him the opportunity. - -Suffering from a slightly inflamed neck he was instructed to apply -dioxygen to the area. This he did with such cheerful liberality that his -shaving mirror next day showed him a man with black hair at the front -and a vivid blond at the back. The dioxygen had helped him to blondness -as it had helped a million brunettes of the other sex. For a moment he -was chagrined. Then he saw how it might aid. It was his intention to go -back to Kennebago for the deer hunting and accordingly he despatched -Mrs. Kinney post haste. She was used to these erratic commands and saw -nothing out of the ordinary in the fact that he was in a bath robe with -a turkish towel wound about his head. He was in dread of becoming bald -and was continually fussing with his hair. In a day or so Anthony Trent -was a changed being. His eyes had a hazel tint in them which formed not -too startling a contrast to his new blondness. He was careful to touch -up his eyebrows also. - -Shutting up his flat he registered at a newly built hotel as Oscar -Lindholm of Wisconsin. He would pass for what we assume the handsome -type of Scandinavian to be. It was at this hotel Captain Monmouth stayed -when he came to indulge in what he termed a "flutter" with the cards. -There were still a few houses in the city where one could be reasonably -sure of quiet. Hard drinking youths were barred at these houses. They -became quarrelsome. The men who played were in the main big business men -who could win without exhuberance or lose without going to the district -attorney. They were invariably good players and lost only to the -professionals. And their tragedy was that they could not tell a -professional until the game was done. Captain Monmouth always excited in -players of this type a certain spirit of contempt. He was so languid, so -gently spoken, so bored at things. And he consumed so much Scotch -whiskey that he seemed primed for sacrifice. But he was never the -altar's victim. He was always so staggered at his unexpected good -fortune that he readily offered a revenge. A servant had told David Moor -that the household was supported on these earnings. - -Captain Monmouth, stepping through the lounge on the way to his taxi, -caught sight of Oscar Lindholm. Oscar was leaning against the bar rail -talking loudly of the horse. Five hours later Oscar was still standing -at the bar and the horse was still his theme. Monmouth was a careful -soul for all his gentle languors and sauntered into the tap room and -demanded an Alexander cocktail. As became a son of Wisconsin, Oscar was -free and friendly. The "Alexander" was a new one on him, he explained, -dropping for a moment themes equine. - -Monmouth never made the mistake of offering friendship to a bar-room -stranger unless he knew exactly what he was and how he might fit into -the Monmouth scheme of things. He referred Mr. Lindholm to the guardian -of the bottles. It was the size of the Lindholm wad that decided Captain -Monmouth to accept an invitation to a golden woodcock in the grill room. -There it was that Lindholm opened his heart. He wanted to follow hounds -from the back of a horse. - -"Well, why don't you, my good sir?" Monmouth replied languidly. For a -moment a light of interest had passed across the dark blue eyes of the -ex-cavalryman. Trent knew he was interested. - -Trent explained. He said that the following of hounds near New York was -only possible to one who passed the social examination demanded by these -who controlled the hunting set. - -"You're quite right," Monmouth admitted, "for the outsider it's -impossible." - -"I'll show 'em," Oscar Lindholm returned chuckling. Then he took the -proof of an advertisement from the columns of a great New York daily and -passed it over to Monmouth. - - "Wealthy westerner wants to share home among hunting set of Long - Island. Private house and right surroundings essential. References. - O. L." - -And that light passed over the Englishman's eyes, and was succeeded by a -look of boredom. - -"You don't suppose, do you," he asked, "that the kind of people you want -to know will admit a stranger from Wisconsin into their family?" - -"Why not?" the other cried, indignantly. "Isn't this a free country and -ain't I as good as any other man?" - -"In Wisconsin, undoubtedly: I can't speak for Westbury. By the way, can -you ride?" - -"I could ride your head off," Lindholm bragged. - -"Yes?" said Monmouth softly. "Now that's very interesting. Perhaps we -could arrange a little match somewhere?" - -"Any time at all," Trent returned. He did not for a moment believe he -had a chance against Monmouth but he could afford to lose a little money -to him. In fact he was anxious for the opportunity. - -"You are staying here?" Monmouth demanded. - -Trent pushed a visiting card toward him. It was newly done. "Oscar -Lindholm, Spartan Athletic Club, Madison, Wisconsin." - -"Yes, I'm staying here," he admitted. "Are you?" - -"My home is in Westbury," Captain Monmouth replied. - -"Then you could get me right in to the set I want?" - -"Impossible," cried the other, rising stiffly to his feet. "One owes too -much to one's friends." - -"Bull!" said Oscar Lindholm rudely. "You only owe yourself anything. If -I have a lot of money and you want some of it why consult your friends? -What have they done for you?" - -"I don't care to discuss it," Captain Monmouth exclaimed. "Good night, -Mr. Lindholm." He limped away. - -Assuredly he was no simpleton. He was not sure of this blond lover of -cross-country sport. If Lindholm were genuine in his desire to break -into the sort of society he aimed at he would come back to the attack. -If he were not genuine it were wiser to shake him off. - -As for Trent, he felt reasonably sure things would come his way. But -there was a certain subtlety about these foreign gentlemen of fortune -which called for careful treading. Were he once to win his way to the -establishment of Madame de Beaulieu he would be in dangerous company. -The man who had just left him was dangerous, he sensed. The Countess -already commanded his respect. Then there was the so-called secretary -and the woman who posed now as a maid. And in the house there might be a -treasure trove that would make his wildest expenditures justified. -Looked at in a cool and reasonable manner it was a very dangerous -experiment for Anthony Trent to make. He would be one against four. One -man against a gang of international crooks, all the more deadly because -they were suave and polished. - -It was while he was breakfasting that Captain Monmouth took a seat near -him. Trent commanded his waiter to transport his food to Monmouth's -table. - -"What about that horse race?" he demanded. - -"Let me see," the other murmured. "Oh yes, you say you can ride?" - -"I can trim you up in good style," Trent said cheerfully, "any old -time." - -"What stakes?" Monmouth asked, without eagerness. "What distance? Over -the sticks or on the flat?" - -"Stakes?" Trent said as though not understanding. - -"I never ride or play cards for love," Monmouth told him. - -"That can be arranged later," Trent said, "the main thing is where can -we pull it off? Out west there's a million places but here everything is -private property." - -Captain Monmouth reflected for a moment. - -"I shall be in town again in three days' time. You'll be here?" - -"Depends what answers I get to my advertisement." - -"Oh yes," Monmouth returned, "they will be very amusing. Very amusing -indeed." - -"Why?" Trent demanded. - -"Because the people who will answer will not suit your purpose at all. -There may be many who would be glad of help in running a house in these -hard times but they dare not answer an advertisement like yours for fear -it might be known. And then again think of the risk of taking an unknown -into the home?" - -"I offer references," Trent reminded him. - -"But my dear sir," Monmouth protested, "what are athletic clubs in -Madison to do with those who have the entree to Meadowbrook?" - -"Supposing," Trent said presently, "a family such as I want did get into -communication with me, how much would they expect?" - -Captain Monmouth looked at him appraisingly. Trent felt certain that if -a figure were named it would be the one he would have to pay for the -privilege of meeting the charming Madame de Beaulieu. - -"One couldn't stay at a decent hotel under two hundred and fifty a -week," the cavalryman returned. "You'd have to pay at least five -hundred." - -"That's a lot," Trent commented. - -"I imagined you'd think that," Monmouth said drily. - -"But I could pay it easy enough," the pseudo-Scandinavian retorted. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -ANTHONY TRENT--"PAYING GUEST" - - -And in the end, he did. When Captain Monmouth suggested that the match -between the two be ridden off on his own grounds near Westbury, Anthony -Trent felt certain that he was taken there to be inspected by the other -members of the household. - -Edward Conway was a taciturn, drink-sodden man not inclined to be -friendly with the affable Oscar Lindholm. Of the match little need be -said. Trent, a good rider, had engaged to beat a professional at his own -game. Captain Monmouth was the richer by a thousand dollars. - -In the billiard room of Elm Lodge after the race Monmouth offered his -guest some excellent Scotch whiskey and grew a little more amiable. - -"I presume, Mr. Lindholm," he said, "that you would have no objection to -my man of business looking up your rating in Madison?" - -"Go as far as you like. What you will find will be satisfactory." - -"It is," Monmouth smiled. "I wish I had half the money that you have. I -should consider myself rich enough and God knows my tastes are not -simple." - -"So you had me investigated?" Trent smiled a little. "When?" - -"When we made this match." - -Trent had found that the assumption of a name might be dangerous if -investigations were made concerning it. It was with his customary -caution that he had taken Lindholm's name. David Moor, his little -detective, often spoke of his cases to his patron. He had spoken at -length about the case of Oscar Lindholm of Madison, Wisconsin. A lumber -millionaire, Oscar came to New York to have a good time in the -traditional manner of wealthy men from far states. A joyride in which a -man was run down figured prominently in his first night's entertainment. -Fearing that the notoriety of this would affect his political -aspirations in the west he was sentenced to a month on Blackwell's -Island under an assumed name. During this month his name could safely be -used. The day that Trent became a member of the household at Elm Lodge -the real Lindholm had ten days more to serve. - -The wardrobe which Trent had gathered about him was utterly unlike his -own perfect outfit. He conceived Oscar Lindholm to be without -refinements and he dressed the part. He could see Captain Monmouth -shudder as he came into the drawing room on the night of his arrival. -Lindholm wore a Prince Albert coat and wore it aggressively. - -His patent leather shoes had those hideous knobs on them wherein a dozen -toes might hide themselves. - -"My dear man," gasped Monmouth, "we dress for dinner always." - -"What's the matter with me?" the indignant guest asked. - -"Everything," Monmouth cried. "You look like an undertaker. Fortunately -we are very much of a size and I have some dress clothes I've never -worn. If Madame de Beaulieu had seen you I don't know what would have -happened." - -In ten minutes Trent was back in the drawing room this time arrayed as -he himself desired to be. Madame de Beaulieu had not yet come down. - -"Madame is particular then?" Trent hazarded. - -"She has a right to be," Monmouth said a little stiffly, "she belongs to -one of the great families of France." - -Trent, watching him, saw that he believed it. This was a new angle. She -had deceived Monmouth without a doubt. For the first time, and the last, -Trent observed a certain confusion about Captain Monmouth. - -"In confidence," he said, "Madame de Beaulieu and I are engaged to be -married. Captain de Beaulieu and she were negotiating for divorce when -the war broke out and we must wait therefore." - -Trent remembering Moor's report as to the members of the household -pointed to Edward Conway sipping his third cocktail. "That's the -chaperon, eh?" - -"Madame de Beaulieu's aunt, Madame de Berlaymont, is here," Monmouth -said affably. "It is our custom to use French at the table as much to -starve the servants of food for gossip as anything else. You speak -French of course?" - -"Not a word," Trent lied promptly, "now if you want to talk Danish or -Swedish I'm with you." - -Madame de Berlaymont! No doubt the French maid resuming the aunt pose. -At the Guestwick affair she had been an English lady of fashion. Had -they put themselves to this bother simply for his sake? He doubted it. - -"We've not been here long," Captain Monmouth went on, "and we know very -few people. Of course we could easily know the wrong sort but that's -dangerous. To-night one of the most popular and influential men in the -country is coming." - -Captain Monmouth had no time to mention his name for Madame de Beaulieu -came in. It was the first time Trent had met her face to face since that -night at the Guestwick's. He was not without a certain nervousness. -Looking at himself in the mirror he seemed so much the product of -peroxide that it must easily be recognized. But Madame de Beaulieu gave -him the most cursory of glances. There was a certain nervousness about -her and Monmouth which had little enough to do with him. - -This visit of the influential neighbor plainly was what concerned them. -Trent assumed, shrewdly enough, that they were trying, for reasons of -their own, to break into the wealthy hunting set and had not found it -easy. - -Madame de Beaulieu was beautifully gowned. She looked to be a woman of -thirty, whereas when he had first seen her she looked no more than two -and twenty. She carried herself splendidly. Her French accent was -marked. In the police court she spoke as the English do. When the little -bent, gray-ringletted but distinguished aunt came in, he could not -recognize her at all. Assuredly he had stumbled upon as high class band -of crooks as had ever bothered police. He could sense that they regarded -him as a necessary nuisance whose five hundred dollars a week helped the -household expenses. And he knew, instinctively, that Captain Monmouth -and Edward Conway would plan to get some of the millions he was -supposed to have. - -Trent's Swedish accent was copied faithfully from his janitor who had -been of a superior class in his own country before he had fallen to -furnace tending. He did not overdo it. To those listening, he appeared -anxious to overcome his accent and lapsed into it only occasionally. - -Trent heard Monmouth tell Madame de Beaulieu that Lindholm's dress was -terrible and that by God's grace their measurements were identical or -they would have been disgraced by a guest in a frock coat. He spoke in -rapid French and in an undertone but Trent's ears were sharp and had ere -this warned him of danger where another man would have heard nothing. - -The guest of honor was no less than Conington Warren. He was ripely -affable. He had come to this dinner more to report on the behavior of -the strangers occupying Elm Lodge than anything else. A bachelor may sit -at a table--or a divorced man--where the married man cannot go. At the -Mineola Show Madame de Beaulieu had made a good impression on the women -but they were not sure of her. They had found that Captain Monmouth was -indeed the second son of Sir John Monmouth, Bart, and formerly an -officer of Lancers. He had wasted his money at the race track and the -gaming table; but then that was not wholly frowned upon by the young -bloods of American society. - -Trent could see that Warren was impressed. There was an air of breeding -about his hostess and host he had not thought to see. The dinner was -good enough to win his distinguished commendation. He unbent so far as -to question Mr. Lindholm about political conditions in his native state. -He congratulated Madame de Beaulieu on the single string of exquisite -pearls that were about her white throat. And well he might. Cartier had -charged Peter Chalmers Rosewarne a pretty penny for them not so long -ago. - -Had he but known it he would have been even more interested in the ring -which Oscar Lindholm wore. It was a plain gold band in which a single -ruby blazed. He had never worn it till now. He felt Lindholm might -easily allow himself the luxuries of which Anthony Trent was denied. The -stone had adorned a stick pin which Conington Warren once loved and -lost. - -Monmouth's knowledge of horses commended itself to the owner of -thoroughbreds. Two men such as these could not play a part where horses -were concerned. Conington Warren remembered seeing Monmouth win that -greatest of all steeplechases the Grand National. A _camaraderie_ was -instantly established. It was a triumphant night. Undoubtedly the -household at Elm Lodge would be accepted. - -Thinking over the situation in his own room that night Trent admitted he -was puzzled. Why this struggle for social recognition? His first theory -that it was in order to rob wealthy homes was dismissed as untenable. To -begin with it was an old trick and played out. Directly an alien -household in a colony of old friends attracts attention it also attracts -suspicion. And if this section of Westbury were to suffer an epidemic of -burglaries Madame de Beaulieu's home would come under police -supervision. - -There was little doubt in Trent's mind that this Captain Monmouth was a -member of the family he claimed as his. Conington Warren and he had -common friends in England. What was his game? - -And yet Madame de Beaulieu, or "The Countess," had been notorious as the -leading member of a gang of high class crooks. She had even been -fingerprinted and had he believed served a sentence. Not a month before -she had taken a hundred thousand dollars' worth of jewels from St. -Michael's Mount and an amount of currency not specified. As the days -went by Trent made other discoveries. He found for one thing that the -man whose name he had taken had a reputation for drinking for he found a -decanter and siphon ever at his elbow. By degrees he and Edward Conway -gravitated together. This Conway, whose part in the game he could not -yet guess, was drinking himself steadily to death. - -One morning Trent came upon Conway scribbling on a pad of paper. He -stared hard at what he wrote and then tossed the crumpled paper into a -nearby open fire. The day was chilly and the blazing logs were cheerful. -When Conway was gone Trent retrieved the paper and saw the signature he -had assumed copied to a nicety. Conway probably had his uses as a -forger. The gang of the Countess had accomplished notable successes by -these means. - -Trent had not been an hour in the house when he discovered that Monmouth -and Madame de Beaulieu had eyes only for one another. It was a vulgar -intrigue Trent supposed and explained the situation. But as day -succeeded day he found he was wrong. Here were two people, a beautiful -woman accomplished and fascinating and a man of uncommon good looks and -distinction, head over ears in love with one another. Conceivably such -people, removed from the conventions of society, would pay small -attention to the _convenances_ and yet he saw no gesture or heard no -word in French or English that was not proper. Sometimes he felt he must -have mistaken the aristocratic Madame de Beaulieu and her Empire aunt -for the wrong women. But he could not mistake the Rosewarne pearls which -he had viewed in Cartier's only a week before the mining man bought them -as a birthday present for his wife. - -The night that Monmouth and the woman he loved were asked to a dinner -party at Conington Warren's home, Oscar Lindholm had two more days to -serve on Blackwell's Island. So far Anthony Trent had accomplished -nothing. He had lost a thousand dollars on a horse race, two weekly -payments of five hundred dollars for board and another thousand in small -amounts at auction and pool. He was most certainly a paying guest. - -Conway and Trent were not asked. Madame de Berlaymont was indisposed. It -was the opportunity he had wanted. It was Conway's habit to sleep from -about ten in the evening until midnight. Every night since Trent had -been at Elm Lodge the so-called secretary had done so. In a large wing -chair with an evening paper unopened on his knees he would fall into -sleep. He could be counted upon therefore not to interrupt. The servants -retired no later than ten to their distant part of the rambling house. -Only Madame de Berlaymont might be in the way. In reality this amiable -chaperone was a woman in the early twenties Trent believed and could -not be counted upon to remain unmoved if she heard strange noises in the -night as of burglars moving. - -Trent already knew the lay-out of the house. It was just past ten when -the servants went to bed and Conway sunk in his two hours' slumber that -Oscar Lindholm went exploring. - -Stepping very carefully by Madame de Berlaymont's room he listened a -long while. No sound met his ears. Then with a practiced skill he turned -the door knob and entered an unlighted room. Still there was no sound of -breathing. And when he switched on the light the apartment was empty. -The indisposition which had kept the aged lady two days confined to her -chamber was plainly a ruse. Trent could return to it later. - -Never before to-night had Trent carried an automatic pistol and been -prepared to use it if necessary. He was now in a house whose inmates -were, like himself, shrewd, resourceful and strong. For all he knew -Conway might long ago have suspected him. - -Madame de Beaulieu and her chaperone occupied the bedrooms of one wing -of the low rambling house. In the other wing Monmouth, Lindholm and -Conway slept. Over this bachelor wing as it was called were some smaller -rooms where the four maid servants slept. - -The rooms of Madame de Beaulieu were beautifully furnished. It was a -suite, with salon, bedroom and a large bathroom. Trent determined to -allow himself an hour and a half. Skilled as he was in searching he felt -he would discover something in those ninety minutes. - -But the time had almost gone by and he was baffled. There was nothing. -He probed and sounded and measured as he had seen Dangerfield's -detectives do but nothing rewarded him. What jewels Madame de Beaulieu -owned she had probably worn. But how dare she wear at a dinner party -where the Rosewarne's might conceivably be, so well known a string of -pearls? And what of those other baubles which were missing from St. -Michael's home? - -A carved ivory jewel box on her dressing table revealed only a ball the -size of a golf ball made of silver paper. She had begged him to save the -tinsel in the boxes of cigarettes he smoked so that she might bind this -mass until it became worthy of sending to the Red Cross. - -Anthony Trent balanced the silver sphere in his hand. Naturally it was -heavy. "If I," he mused, "wanted to hide my three beauties I couldn't -think of anything safer than this. She's clever, too. Why shouldn't she -use it for something she's afraid of anybody seeing?" - -A steel hat pin was to his hand. Exerting a deal of wrist strength he -thrust it through the mass. In the middle it met with a resistance that -the pin could not pierce. It was twelve o'clock as he put it in his -pocket and locked the door of his own room. It seemed minutes before his -eager fingers could strip off piece after piece of silver paper. And -then the palm of his hand cupped one of the most beautiful diamonds he -had ever seen. - -It was fully a hundred carats in weight and its value he could hardly -approximate. No stone of this size had ever been lost in the United -States. He remembered however some four years ago the Nizam of -Hyderabad--one of the greatest of Indian potentates and owner of an -unparalleled collection of diamonds--had bought a famous stone in -London. It was never delivered to him. The messenger had been found -floating in the Thames off Greenhithe. The reputed price of purchase had -been thirty-five thousand pounds. The Nizam's had been a blue-white -diamond and Anthony Trent believed he held it in his hand. He thought of -his Benares lamp and chuckled. If he desired to avenge himself on Madame -de Beaulieu for the loss of the Guestwick money he was amply rewarded -now. The blazing thing in his hand would fetch at least two hundred -thousand dollars if he dared dispose of it. - -Obviously the correct procedure for the supposed Oscar Lindholm was to -make his escape at once. He would have little chance to do so were the -abstraction to become known. Of course Madame de Beaulieu would look in -her ivory casket directly she came in. Did he himself not always glance -anxiously at his lamp whenever he had been away from it for a few hours? - -Cautiously he made his way down to the hall where his coat and hat were. - -As he passed the door it opened and Madame de Beaulieu entered with -Monmouth. She was pale, so pale indeed that Trent stopped to look at -her. - -"Back early, aren't you?" he asked. - -"Madame has had bad news," said Monmouth and looked at her anxiously. -She sank into a big chair before the open fire. Certainly she was very -beautiful. Looking at her it seemed incredible that she could be one of -the best known adventuresses in the world. Perhaps, after all, much of -the anecdote that was built about her was legendary. Presently she spoke -in French to Monmouth. - -"Bear with me, my dear one," she said, "but I must see him alone. I am a -creature of premonitions. Let me have my way." - -The look that Captain Monmouth bent upon Anthony Trent was not a -friendly one. There was a new quality of suspicion and antagonism in it. - -"Madame de Beaulieu," he said stiffly, "wants to speak with you alone. I -see no occasion for it but her wish is law. I shall leave you here." - -When they were alone she did not speak for some minutes. Then she turned -to him and looked at him searchingly. He felt the necessity of being on -his guard. - -"Mr. Lindholm," she said quietly, "I do not understand you." - -"Why should you bother to?" he asked. - -"Because I am afraid of everything I do not trust. You say you are a -naturalized Swede. That would explain your hair." She leaned forward and -looked him full in the face, "Mr. Lindholm, you have made one very silly -mistake which no woman would make." - -"And that is--what?" he demanded. - -"You have let your bleached hair get black at the roots. You are a -blackhaired man. Why deny it?" - -"I don't," he said. "I admit it." - -"Then why are you here?" - -"Captain Monmouth knows. A desire to break into society if you like." - -"Will you answer me one question truthfully," she asked, "on your -honor?" - -"Yes," he said. There was no reason why he should not. - -"Are you a detective?" - -"On my honor, no. Why should Madame de Beaulieu fear detectives?" - -There was a faint flush in her cheeks now and a brighter color in her -eyes. She was enormously relieved at his answer. - -"Why are you here, then?" - -"If you must know," he told her, "it was for revenge." - -"Not to harm Captain Monmouth?" she cried paling. - -"I came on your account," he said quietly. "You don't remember me?" - -She shook her head. "When did we meet? In Europe?" - -"No less a place than Fifth avenue." - -"Ah, at some social function? One meets so many that one has no time for -recalling names or even faces." - -"Later I saw you at a police court. You were an indignant young -English-woman accused of robbing Mr. Guestwick or trying to. You may -recall a man who opened the Guestwick safe for you, a man upon whose -good nature you imposed." He looked very somber and stern. She shrank -back, and covered her face with her white hands. - -"I knew happiness was not for me," she said brokenly. "I said, when I -found the man I loved was the man who loved me. 'It is too wonderful, -too beautiful. It is not for me. I am born under an unlucky star.' And -you see I was right." - -Trent considered her for a moment. Here was no acting. Here was a woman -whose soul was in agony. - -"You forget," he said, "that I don't know what you mean." - -"I had better tell you," she said with a gesture of despair. "Captain -Monmouth and I love each other. It has awakened the good in us that we -both thought was buried or had never existed. While my husband, Captain -de Beaulieu, lived there was no chance of a divorce. He is Catholic. -To-night after dinner one of Mr. Warren's guests brought a late paper -from New York and I saw that my husband was killed. I could stay there -no longer. Coming home in the motor I asked myself whether it would be -my fate to win happiness. I doubted it even though I repented in ashes. -Then it was I began to think of you, the stranger whose money we needed, -the stranger who reminded me vaguely of some day when there was danger -in the air. Under the light as I came in I saw your hair. Then I knew -that in the hour of my greatest hope I was to experience the most bitter -despair." - -"You forget, Madame," he said harshly, "that I have had the benefit of -your consummate acting before." - -"And you think I am acting now?" - -"Why shouldn't I?" he retorted, "you have everything to gain by it. I -can collect the Guestwick reward, and send you back to prison." - -"I can pay you more than the ten thousand dollars he offered," she cried -quickly. - -"With the sale of the Rosewarne jewels?" - -She shrank back. "Ciel! How could you know?" - -"I do," he said brusquely, "and that's enough. You see you are trying -to fool me again. You say your love has brought out the good in you that -you didn't know you possessed and yet a few weeks back you are at your -old tricks again. Is that reasonable?" - -"I'll tell you everything," she cried wildly. "You must understand. It -was I who took the Rosewarne jewels. Why? Because I am fighting for my -happiness. Captain Monmouth knows nothing of what my life has been. I -have told him that after the war I shall go back to France and sell my -property and with it help him to buy a place that was once a seat of his -family. There, away from the world, we shall live and die. I want only -him and he wants only me. We have known life and its vanities. We want -happiness. You hold it in your hands. If you take your revenge by -telling him, you break my heart. Is that a vengeance which satisfies -you, Monsieur l'Inconnu? If so, it is very easy. He is in the next room. -Call him. You have only to say, 'Captain Monmouth, this woman whom you -love is a notorious criminal. All Europe knows her as the Countess. The -money that she wants to build her house of love with is stolen money. -She will assuredly disgrace your name as she has that of the great -family from which she sprang.'" - -She looked supplicatingly at Anthony Trent. "You have only to tell him -that and there is no happiness left for me in all the world." - -"Do you think I would do that?" he demanded. - -"How can I tell? Why should you not? I am in your power." - -There was no doubting the genuineness of her emotion. Formerly she had -tricked him but here was her bared soul to see. - -"I came here," he said slowly, "angry because you had played upon my -sympathies and outwitted me. I schemed to gain an entrance to this house -for no other reason. I shall leave it admiring you and Monmouth and -hoping you will be happy." - -It was as though she could scarcely believe him. - -"Then you will not tell him?" she exclaimed. "You will go without that -for which you came?" - -She did not understand his smile. - -"I shall not tell him," Anthony Trent declared. "As for the rest--we are -quits, Madame." - -At the hour when the real Oscar Lindholm left Blackwells Island the -pretender was lovingly setting the fourth jewel in the Benares lamp. It -would have been difficult to find two happier men in all America that -morning. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -MRS. KINNEY MAKES A CONFESSION - - -ANTHONY TRENT looked about his well-furnished rooms with a certain -merited affection. In a week he would know them no more. Already -arrangements had been made to send the furniture to his camp on -Kennebago. A great deal of the furniture Weems had gathered there was -distressfully bad. Weems ran to gilt and brocade mainly. - -As Trent surveyed his apartment it amused him to think that never was a -flat in a house such as this furnished so well and at so great a cost. -The things might seem modest enough at first glance. There was, for -example, a steel engraving, after Stuart, of George Washington. A -fitting and a worthy picture for any American's room but hardly one -which required a large amount of money to obtain. - -None save Anthony Trent knew that behind the print was concealed one of -the most beautiful examples of that flower of the Venetian Renaissance, -Giorgione. A few months before the Scribblers' Club had invited motion -picture magnates to its monthly dinner. Only a few of these moulders of -public taste had accepted. There were good enough reasons for -declination. The subject incensed those who held that writers had no -grudge against the "movies." Others lacked speech-making ability in the -English tongue. And there were some high-stomached producers who feared -the Scribblers' fare might be unworthy. - -One big man consented to speak. He was glib with that oratory which -comes from successful selling. Before he had sprung into notoriety he -had been a salesman in a Seventh Avenue store, one of those persuasive -gentlemen who waylay passersby. His speech was, of course, absurd. It -was interesting mainly as an example that intelligence is not always -necessary in the making of big money. - -It was when he began to speak of the material rewards that his acumen -had garnered, that Anthony Trent awoke to interest. The producer told -his hearers that they had assuredly read of the sale to an unnamed -purchaser of a Giorgione. "I am that purchaser!" said the great man. "I -give more money for it than--" his shrewd appraising eye went around the -table. He saw eager unsuccessful writers, starveling associate editors -and a motley company of the unarrived. There were a few who had gained -recognition but in the main it was not a prosperous gathering as -commerce reckons success. "I give more money for it," he declared, "than -all this bunch will make in their lifetime. It'll be on view at the -Metropolitan Museum next week when you boys can take an eyefull. It's on -my desk at this present moment in a plain wooden case. It ain't a big -picture; this Giorgione"--his "G" was wrongly pronounced--"didn't paint -'em big. My wife don't know anything about it but she's got the art bug -and she'll get it to-morrow morning as her birthday present." - -However, the lady was disappointed. The wooden case was brought to the -table and the magnate unwrapped it with his own fat fingers. Instead of -the canvas representing a Venetian fete and undraped ladies, was the -comic sheet of a Sunday paper. The motion picture magnate used his -weekly news-sheet (produced in innumerable theatres) to advertise his -loss by a production of the missing picture. It was good advertising and -made the Venetian master widely known. But it still reposed behind the -sphinx-like Washington. - -The Benares lamp was naturally his _piece de resistance_. Never in -history had such value been gathered together in a lamp. Trent -remembered seeing once in the British Museum a lamp from the Mosque of -Omar at Jerusalem on which was inscribed, "The Painter is the poor and -humble Mustafa." As he looked at his own lantern he thought, "The -Decorator is the unknown Anthony Trent." - -Collectors of china would have sneered at a single vase on the top of a -bookcase. It was white enameled and had a few flowers painted on it. And -the inscription told the curious that it was a souvenir of Watch Hill, -R. I. - -In reality it was the celebrated vase of King Senwosri who had gazed on -it twenty-five centuries before Christ. Senator Scrivener had bought it -at a great price in Cairo. Some day the white enamel which Trent had -painted over the imperishable glass would be carefully removed and it -would gladden his eyes in Maine where visitors would be infrequent. - -There were a dozen curious things Trent looked at, things hidden from -all eyes but his, which aroused exciting memories of a career he fully -believed had drawn to a close. He doubted if ever a man in all the -history of crime had taken what he had taken and was yet personally -unknown. Some day, if possible, he might be able to learn from the -police what mental estimate they had formed of him. He must loom large -in their eyes. They must invest him with a skill and courage that would -be flattering indeed were he to learn of it. The occasional mentions of -him he read in daily papers were too distorted to be interesting and -McWalsh's tribute to the unknown master was his only reward so far. - -The life that was coming, was to be the life he desired. Leisure, the -possession of books, the opportunity to wander as he chose through far -countries when the war was over. And he liked to think that later he -might find love. Often he had envied men with children. Well, he could -offer the woman that he might find comforts that fiction would never -have brought him. He was getting to have fewer qualms of conscience now. -He often assured himself that he was honest by comparison with war -profiteers. He had taken from the rich and had not withheld from the -poor. - -His immunity from arrest, the growing certainty that his cleverness had -saved him from detection led him on this particular night to speculate -upon his new life with an easy mind. He had been wise to avoid the -dangers of friendship. He had been astute in selecting a woman like Mrs. -Kinney who distrusted strangers. She believed in him absolutely. She -looked to his comforts and cared for his health admirably. She would -assuredly be happy in Maine. - -And then he remembered that during the last week or so she had been -strangely moody. She had sighed frequently. She had looked at him -constantly and gazed away when he met her eye. She was old, and the old -were fanciful as he knew. Perhaps, after all she regretted leaving the -New York which filled her with exquisite tremblings and fear. In Maine -she would be lonely. She should have a younger woman to aid her with the -house work. A physician should look her over. Trent was genuinely fond -of the old woman. - -He was thinking of her when she came into the room. Undoubtedly there -was something unusual about her. There was no longer the pleasant smile -on her face. He was almost certain she wore a look of fear. Instantly he -sensed some danger impending. - -"There's a man been here three times to-day," she began. - -"What of it?" he demanded. So far as she could judge the news did not -disconcert him. - -"Is there anybody you might want to avoid?" she asked, and did not look -at him as she spoke. - -"A thousand," he smiled. "Who was it?" - -"He wouldn't leave his name." - -"What was he like?" - -"A man," she told him, "sixty. Well dressed and polite but I didn't -trust him. He'll be back at ten." - -It was now almost half past nine. - -"I don't see everybody who calls," he reminded her. - -"You must see him," she said seriously. - -"Why?" he demanded. - -"He said you would regret it if you did not." - -"Probably an enterprising salesman," he returned with an appearance -almost of boredom. - -"No, he isn't," she said quickly. - -There was no doubt that Mrs. Kinney was terribly in earnest. He affected -the air of composure he did not feel. - -"Who then?" Anthony Trent demanded. - -"I think it's the police," she whispered. - -Then suddenly she fell to weeping. - -"Oh, Mr. Trent," she said brokenly, "I _know_." - -"What?" he cried sharply, suddenly alert to danger, turned in that -moment from the debonair careless idler to one in imminent risk of -capture. - -"About you," she said. - -"What about me?" he exclaimed impatiently. - -"I know how you make your living. I didn't spy on you, sir, believe me, -I just happened on it." Timidly she looked over to the Benares lamp -gracefully swinging in its dim corner. "I know about that." - -For a moment Anthony Trent said nothing. A few minutes ago he had sat in -the same chair as he now occupied congratulating himself on a new life -that seemed so near and so desirable. Now he was learning that the -little, shrinking woman, who so violently denounced crime and criminals, -had found him out. What compromise could he effect with her? Was it -likely that she was instrumental in denouncing him to the authorities, -tempted perhaps by the rewards his capture would bring? For the moment -it was useless to ask how she had discovered the lamp's secret. - -"What are you going to do?" he demanded. He was assuredly not going to -wait for the police to arrest him if escape were possible. He might have -to shut the old woman in a closet and make his hurried exit. He always -had a large sum of money about him. Of late the banks had been aiding -the government by disclosing the names of those depositors who invested -sums of a size that seemed incompatible with their positions and ways of -living. He feared to make such deposits that might lead to investigation -and of late had secreted what money his professional gains had brought -him. - -"What am I going to do?" she echoed. "Why help you if I can." - -He looked at her, suspicion in his gaze. Her manner convinced him that -by some means or other she had indeed stumbled upon what he had hoped -was hidden. It was not a moment to ask her by what means she had done -so. And, equally, it was no moment for denial. - -"Why should you help me?" he demanded. He could not afford blindly to -trust any one. "If you think you have found something irregular about me -why do you offer aid? In effect you have accused me of being a criminal. -Don't you know there's a law against helping one?" - -"I'm one, too," she said, to his amazement. - -"Nonsense!" he snapped. He was too keen a judge of character to believe -that this meek old creature had fallen into evil ways. - -"Do you remember," she said steadily--and he could see she was intensely -nervous--"that I told you I had no children when I applied for this -place?" - -"Yes, yes," he answered impatiently. It seemed so trivial a matter now. - -"Well, I lied," she returned, "I had a daughter at the point of death. I -needed the position and I heard you telling other applicants you wanted -some one with no ties." - -"That's hardly criminal," Anthony Trent declared. - -"Wait," she wailed, "I did worse. You remember when you furnished this -place you sent me to pay for some rugs--nearly two hundred dollars it -was?" - -"And you had your pocket picked. I remember." - -"I took the money," she confessed. "If I had not my girl would have been -buried with the nameless dead." - -He looked at the sobbing woman kindly. - -"Don't worry about that, Mrs. Kinney. If only you had told me you could -have had it." - -"I know that now," she returned, "but then I was afraid." - -"You'll stand by me notwithstanding that?" he pointed to the jeweled -lamp. - -"Why of course," she said simply, and he knew she was genuine. - -Almost as she spoke the bell rang. - -"Go to the head of the stairs," he commanded, "and I will let him in. Be -certain to see how many there are. If there are two or more, call out -that some men are coming. If it is the one who called before, say 'the -gentleman is here.' Listen carefully. If there are two or more I shall -get out by the roof. Meet me to-morrow by Grant's Tomb at ten o'clock in -the morning. You've got that?" - -Mrs. Kinney was perfectly calm now and he was certain that her loyalty -could be depended upon. Presently she called out, "The gentleman is -here." - -Anthony Trent rose slowly from his chair by the window as his visitor -entered. It was a heavily built man of sixty or so dressed very well. At -a glance the stranger displayed distinguished urbanity. - -"What a charming retreat you have here, Mr. Trent," he observed. - -"It is convenient," said Anthony Trent shortly. The word "retreat" -sounded unpleasantly in his ear. It had a sound of enforced seclusion. -He continued to study the elder man. There was an inflection in his -voice which we are pleased to term an "English accent." And yet he did -not seem, somehow, to be an Englishman. His accent reminded Trent of a -man he had met casually two years before. It was at a Park riding school -where he kept a saddle horse that he encountered him. From his accent he -believed him to be English and was surprised when he was informed that -it was Captain von Papen he had taken to be British. He learned -afterwards that the Germans of good birth generally learned their -English among England's upper classes and acquired thereby that -inflection which does not soothe the average American. This stranger had -just such a speaking voice. Obviously then he was German and one highly -connected. And at a day when German plots and intrigue engaged public -attention what was he doing here? - -"Mine is a business call," said the stranger. - -"You do not ask if this is a convenient hour," Trent reminded him. - -"My dear sir," the other said smiling, "you must understand that it is a -matter in which my convenience is to be consulted rather than yours." -The eyes that gleamed through the thick glasses were fixed on Trent's -face with a trace of amusement in them. The stranger had the look of one -who holds the whiphand over another. - -"I don't admit that," Anthony Trent retorted. "I don't know your name or -your errand and I'm not sure that I want to." - -"Wait," said the other. "As for my name--let it be Kaufmann. As for my -errand, let us say I am interested in a history of crime and want you to -be a collaborator." - -"What qualifications have I for such an honor?" - -Anthony Trent rammed his pipe full of Hankey and lit it with a hand that -did not tremble. Instinctively he knew the other watched for signs of -nervousness. - -"You have written remarkable stories of crime," Mr. Kaufmann reminded -him. "I regret that the death of an Australian uncle permitted you to -retire." - -"You will not think it rude, I hope," Trent said with a show of -politeness, "if I say that you seem to be much more interested in my -business than I am in yours." - -"I admire your national trait of frankness," Kaufmann smiled, "and will -copy it. I am a merchant of Zurich, at Bahnhof street, the largest dyer -of silk in Switzerland. This much you may find through your State -Department if you choose." - -"And owing to lack of business have taken up a study of crime?" Trent -commented. "Your frankness impresses me favorably, Mr. Kaufmann. I still -do not see why you visit me at this hour." - -"We shall make it plain," Mr. Kaufmann assured him cordially. "First let -me tell you that my business is in danger. This dye situation is likely -to ruin me. I have, or had, the formulae of the dyes I used. They were -my property." - -"German formulae!" Trent exclaimed. - -"Swiss," Kaufmann corrected, "bought by me, and my property. They have -been stolen from my partner by an officious amateur detective--one of -your allies--and brought here. The ship should be in shortly. He will -stay in New York a day or so before going to Washington. When he goes he -will take with him my property, my dye formulae. He will enrich American -dyers at my expense." - -"You can't expect me to feel grieved about that," Anthony Trent said -bluntly. - -"I do not," said Kaufmann. "But I must have those formulae." He leaned -forward and touched Trent on the arm. "You must get them." - -Trent knocked the gray ashes from his pipe. The merchant of Zurich gazed -into a face which wore amusement only. He was not to know the dismay -into which his covert threat had thrown the younger man. Without doubt, -Trent told himself, this stranger must have stumbled upon something -which made this odd visit a logical one, some discovery which would be a -sword over his head. - -"In your own country," said Trent politely, "I have no doubt you pass -for a wit. To me your humor seems strained." - -Kaufmann smiled urbanely. - -"I had hoped," he asserted, "that you would not have compelled me to say -again that you _must_ get them. I fancied perhaps that you would be -sensitive to any mention of, shall we say, your past?" - -"My past?" queried Trent blandly. He did not propose to be bluffed. Too -often he had played that game himself. It might still be that this man, -a German without question, had only guessed at his avocation and hoped -to frighten him. - -"Your past," repeated the merchant. "The phrase has possibly too vague a -sound for you. Let me say rather your professional activities." - -"I see," Trent smiled, "you are interested in the writing of stories. My -profession is that of a fiction writer." - -"You fence well," Kaufmann admitted, "but I have a longer and sharper -foil. I can wound you and receive never a scratch in return. You speak -of fiction. Permit me to offer you a plot. Although a Swiss I have, or -had, many German friends. We are still neutral, we of Switzerland, and -you cannot expect us to feel the enmities this war has stirred up as -keenly as you and your allies do." - -"That I have noticed," Trent declared. - -"Very well then. I have a close friend here, one Baron von Eckstein. You -have perhaps heard of him--yes?" - -Anthony Trent knitted his brow in thought. - -"Married a St. Louis heiress, didn't he?" - -"A very delightful lady, and rich," Kaufmann returned. "Charitable too, -and loyal. My friends are all very loyal. Did you know that she donated -ten fully-equipped ambulances to this country?" - -"I saw it in the papers," said Anthony Trent. And for the life of him he -could not help smiling. - -Mr. Kaufmann begged permission to light a cigar. It would have been -difficult to find a more urbane or genial gentleman in all Switzerland. - -"The Baron and Baroness von Eckstein are close friends." - -Since he offered no other remarks Anthony Trent spoke. - -"And I am to derive a story from so slender a plot." - -"That is but the beginning," Kaufmann assured him. "One night the -Baroness had a very valuable necklace stolen. It was worth a great deal -more than was supposed. Diamonds have gone up in price. She told me -about it. In my native land I had some little skill as an amateur -detective. She had been to a ball and had met many strangers. At my -request she mentioned those to whom she had spoken at length. Among them -was your name. That means nothing. There were twenty others. Now I come -to another interesting thing. Do I entertain you?" - -Anthony Trent simulated a yawn. He gave the appearance of one who -listens because a guest in his house speaks and politeness demands it. -In reality a hundred schemes went racing through his head and in most of -them Herr Kaufmann played a part that would have made him nervous had he -guessed it. - -"Indeed yes," Anthony Trent assured him. "Please continue." - -"Very well," said the other cheerfully. "Next, my plot takes me to New -Bedford. You know it?" - -"A mill town I believe?" - -"Many of the mills are owned by my friend Jerome Dangerfield who used to -purchase my dyes. We are friends of thirty years. He was the owner of -the celebrated Mount Aubyn ruby. It was stolen from him, knocked out of -his very hands. A most mysterious case. You have heard of it?" - -"I saw that ten thousand dollars was offered for the return of the stone -and capture of the thief." - -"I made my little list of those to whom Dangerfield had talked during -his stay at Sunset Park. Your name was there, Mr. Trent." - -"If you are thinking of writing it up," Trent said kindly, "I must -advise you that editors of the better sort rather frown on coincidence. -Coincidence in fiction is a shabby old gentleman to-day with fewer -friends every year. What next?" - -"Nothing, now," Kaufmann admitted readily. "Since then I have -investigated you. I find you write no more; that you live well; that -while your money supposedly comes from Australia you never present an -Australian draft at your bank. Now, my dear Mr. Trent, I may misjudge -you. Possibly I do. But in the interests of my friends the Baron and -Baroness, to say nothing of my customer Jerome Dangerfield, I may be -permitted to investigate any man whose way of living seems suspicious. I -ought perhaps to put the matter into the hands of the police." - -"Have you?" Trent demanded sharply. - -"Not yet. It may be that I shall when I leave here. You may be thinking -what a fool I am to come here and tell you these startling things when -you are so much younger and stronger than I. I should answer, if you -asked me, that I have a permit to carry a revolver and that I have -availed myself of it." - -Blandly he showed the other a .38 automatic Bayard pistol. - -"You may be misjudged," he said cordially. "If so I offer you the -apology of a Swiss gentleman. But consider my position. Suppose we abide -by the decision of the police." He looked keenly at Anthony Trent, "Are -you willing to leave it to them? Shall I call up Spring 3100?" - -Kaufmann gave Trent the idea that he knew very much more about his life -than he had so far admitted. There was a certainty about the man that -veiled disquieting things. If he knew the Von Ecksteins and Dangerfield -as he claimed, it was one of those unfortunate coincidences which life -often provides to humble supercilious editors like Crosbeigh. Police -investigation was a thing Trent feared greatly. Under cross-examination -his defense would fall abjectly. It was no good to inquire how Kaufmann -had found out that he had never offered an Australian check at his bank. -It was sufficient that his charge was true. - -"It is rather late to bother the police," he said smiling. - -Kaufmann breathed relief, "Ah," he said genially, "we shall make -excellent collaborators, I can see that. To-day is Tuesday. On Thursday -at this hour I shall come with particulars of what I expect you to do -for us?" - -"Us?" Trent exclaimed. - -"Myself and my partners," Kaufmann explained. "Yes, at this hour I shall -come and you will serve your interest by doing in all things as I say. -The alternative is to telephone police headquarters and say an elderly -merchant from Zurich threatens you, slanders you, impels you to perform -unpleasant offices." - -Kaufmann smiling benignly backed toward the door. He closed it behind -him. A little later Anthony Trent saw him on the sidewalk five stories -below. - -He started as he heard footsteps behind him. It was Mrs. Kinney. - -"Was it anything serious?" she asked. - -"I'm afraid it was," he answered. "I want you to go up to Kennebago with -me to-morrow afternoon. I shall take only my personal baggage. The -furniture can wait. The apartment will be locked up." - -She spoke with a certain hesitation. - -"I listened to what he was saying, Mr. Trent." - -"I hoped you would," he answered, "I may need a witness." - -"Don't you think it would be wiser to wait and do what he wants you to?" - -"Perhaps," retorted her employer, "but I don't see how he can find me -out in Kennebago. Who knows about it but you and Weems? You haven't -mentioned it to any one and Weems isn't anxious his financial condition -should be suspected. And, beside that, he's in Los Angeles. I shall pay -the rent of this flat up till Christmas and tell the agent I may be back -for a few days any time. I must leave the furniture." He looked about -him regretfully. "That could be traced easily enough." He decided to -take the Benares lamp, Stuart's picture of Washington, the vase of King -Senwosri, and one or two things of price. They could go in his trunks. - -"But, sir," Mrs. Kinney persisted timidly, "if he finds you out it may -go badly with you and it wouldn't be difficult to get what he wants." - -"Perhaps not," he said gravely, "but if I were to do one such thing for -them they would use me continually." - -"But he only wants his dye formulae," she reminded him. - -"Don't you understand," he said, "that he is a German spy and wants me -to betray my country?" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -THE GERMAN SPY MERCHANT - - -ANTHONY TRENT rode into Kennebago by the corduroy road from Rangely. It -took longer but it seemed a less likely way of being seen than if he had -taken the train to Kennebago. It had been his intention before Kaufmann -had come across his horizon to make the call upon Mr. Westward his first -action. As he stood at the window of the big dining room he could see -the genial angler, and John his guide, rowing over to the edge of a -favorite pool. There he sat in the stern, rod in hand, no doubt thinking -of the chapter he was writing on the "Psychology of Trout." - -For years Anthony Trent had looked forward to days like this in his new -home. But the thrill of it was gone. He had hoped to look over the lake -to the purple hills beyond with a serenity of mind that might now never -be his. How much did Kaufmann know? Would he lodge information with the -police? Dare he? Probably he would not dare to call. But anonymous -information of so important a character would speedily bring detectives -on his trail. Beyond a question he should have bought a camp on some far -Canadian lake under another name, and reached it by devious ways. - -He had betrayed much ingenuity in bringing himself, Mrs. Kinney and -their baggage, to Kennebago as it was. Successions of taxis from hotel -to station, and from station to hotel, crossing his own tracks a half -dozen times would make pursuit difficult. He had no way of estimating -Kaufmann's skill at following a clue. But the man had impressed him, -Anthony Trent, who had foiled so many. - -Next morning he determined to fish and was attending to his rods with -the loving care of the conscientious angler when a knock came at the -door. It opened on to the big screened piazza. - -"Come in," he shouted, thinking Mrs. Kinney wished to consult him. - -Instead there entered Mr. Westward who greeted him heartily. It was -indeed an honor, for the piscatorial expert called upon few. - -"Glad to see you, my dear fellow," said Westward, shaking him by the -hand. "I happened to meet a friend of yours who was coming to see you -and lost his way so I've brought him along." - -_Kaufmann also wrung his hand_. He seemed no less delighted to see Trent -than had been Mr. Westward. - -"What a charming retreat you have here," he exclaimed cordially. - -There followed a conversation concerning trout and salmon which under -normal conditions would have been delightful to Trent. Kaufmann was -affable, genial, and talked of the finny spoils of his native lakes. It -was only when Westward's erect form had disappeared down the path that -his manner became forbidding. - -"Why did you leave New York?" he snapped. - -"Because I chose to," said the other. - -"What a fool! what a fool!" cried Kaufmann, "and how fortunate that I am -good tempered." - -"Why?" Trent demanded. - -"Because I might have had you investigated by the police. Instead I -followed you here--not without difficulty I admit--and renew my offer." -He looked about the luxurious house that was miscalled a "camp." It was -not the kind of home a man would lose willingly. "I ask very little. I -only want a certain package of letters which a man who lands to-morrow -in New York has in his possession. One so skilled as you can get it -easily. You have presence, education, ready wit. I confess it is -difficult for me to believe you have sunk so low." - -Anthony Trent flushed angrily. - -"There are lower depths yet," he exclaimed. - -"Yes?" the other returned, "as for instance?" - -"Your sort of work!" he cried. "Do you suppose I imagine you to be a -Swiss silk merchant of Bahnhof street?" - -Kaufmann threw back his head and laughed. - -"My passport recently vised by your State Department is made out to -Adolf Kaufmann of Zurich. I have Swiss friends in New York and Chicago -who will identify me." - -"Naturally," said Trent, "simple precautions of that sort would have to -be taken. That's elementary." - -"Let us get back to business," said the other, "I want those papers. -Will you get them for me? Think it over well. You may say you will not. -You may say you prefer to remain here in this delightful place and catch -trout. Let us suppose that you say you defy me. What happens? You lose -all chance to look at trout for ten, fifteen, twenty years accordingly -as the judge regards your offenses. I have mentioned only two crimes to -you. Of these I have data and am certain. There are two others in which -I can interest myself if necessary. I do not wish to bother myself with -you after you do as I command. Get me the papers and you may remain here -till you have grand-children of marriageable age. Is it worth defying -me, Mr. Trent?" - -The younger man groaned as he thought it over. The fabric he had made so -carefully was ready to fall apart. Kaufmann went on talking. - -"The man you must follow is called Commander Godfrey Heathcote, of the -British Navy. On his breast he wears the ribbons of the Victoria -Cross--a blue one for the Navy--and the red ribbon, edged with blue, of -the Distinguished Service Order. He is a man much of your build but has -straw colored hair and light blue eyes. He walks with a limp owing to a -wound received at the Zeebrugge affair. He is supposed to be over here -to stay with relatives who have a place on the James River. He leaves -for Washington soon where his business is with the Secretary of the -Navy. The papers I want are in a pigskin cigarette case, old and worn. -You'd better bring the case in its entirety." - -Kaufmann rattled off his instructions in a sure and certain manner. -Evidently he had no fear of being denied. - -"Isn't it unusual for an English naval commander to carry trade secrets -about with him?" Trent demanded. - -"Why keep up the farce?" Kaufmann exclaimed. "You, too, are a man of -the world. You realize you are in my power and must do as you are bid." - -"Must I?" Trent answered with a frown. "I am asked to play the traitor -to my country and you expect me to accept without hesitation." - -"Why not?" Kaufmann returned. "Would you be the first that fear of -exposure has led into such ways? If I were to tell you how we--" he -paused a moment and then smiled--"how we silk merchants of Switzerland -have used our knowledge of the black pages of men's lives or the -indiscretions of well known women, you would understand more readily how -we obtain what we want." - -"I understand," said Anthony Trent gloomily. He was a case in point. - -"And you will save yourself?" - -"I don't know," said Trent hesitating. But he knew that Kaufmann had -made such threats as these to others and had gained his desires. "What's -in those papers?" - -"Dye formulae," smiled the elder man. - -Anthony Trent looked at him angrily. His nerves were on edge. Plainly -Kaufmann felt it unwise to stir the smouldering passion in him. - -"England," he informed the other, "has recently reorganized the mine -fields outside Sheerness at the mouth of the Thames. Commander -Heathcote, who is here ostensibly to recuperate from wounds, is chosen -to carry the plans to the Navy Department. There you have all I know." - -"But that's treachery!" Trent cried. - -"What's England to you," Kaufmann answered, "or you to England? I'm not -asking you to take American plans." - -"It's the same thing now," Trent persisted. "We're allies and what's -treachery to one is treachery to the other." - -"Admirable!" Kaufmann sneered, "admirable! But I invite you to come down -to mother earth. You are not concerned with the affairs of nations. You -are concerned only with your own safety which is the nearer task. You -get those plans or you go to prison. You realize my power. I need you. -You may ask why I have gone to this trouble to take you, a stranger, -more or less into my confidence. Very well. I shall tell you. My own men -are working like slaves in your accursed internment camps and I am alone -who had so many to command." - -"Alone," said Anthony Trent in an altered voice and looked at him oddly. - -Kaufmann observed the look and laughed. - -"I am a mind reader," he said cheerfully, "I will tell you what is -passing through your brain. You are wondering whether if those strong -hands of yours get a grip of my throat your own troubles, too, would not -be at an end. No, my friend, I still have my Bayard with me. And why run -the risk, if you should overpower me, of being tried for murder? What I -ask of you is very little. Remember, also, that I have but to say the -word and you land in prison." - -"You'd go with me," Trent exclaimed. - -"I think not," smiled Kaufmann. "Jerome Dangerfield and others would -vouch for me whereas I fear you would be friendless. And even if I were -interned how would that help you? Be sensible and get ready to -accompany me to New York on the five o'clock train. I have your -reservations." - -It was not easy to explain things to Mrs. Kinney. Trent told her that -his suspicions of Kaufmann's German sympathies were wrong. He said he -was compelled to get the dye formulae and would return within a few -days. - -"I shall come too," Mrs. Kinney observed. "I left a lot of my things at -the flat and I shall need them." - -It seemed to Trent that she was not deceived by his words; and while he -would have preferred to leave her in Maine he could think of no reason -for keeping her there if she wished to leave. All the way he was gloomy. -To Kaufmann's sallies he made morose answers. Presently the so-called -Swiss left him alone. But Trent could not escape the feeling that his -every action was watched. He was to all intents and purposes bond -servant to an enemy of his country. - -"Just a final word," said Kaufmann as they neared the 125th street -station. - -"What else?" Trent said impatiently. He was filled with disgust with -himself and of hatred for the German. - -"Remember that the cigarette case which holds my formulae is a long flat -one holding twelve cigarettes. On it is stamped 'G.H.' He does not -secrete it as you think but exposes it carelessly to view. I advise you -to go straight to your apartment and await my letter. It is necessary -for me to find out particulars which it might be unwise for you to do. I -don't want you to fall under suspicion." - -"You are very thoughtful," sneered Trent. He knew well enough that he -had a value in Kaufmann's eyes which would be destroyed were he to come -under police supervision. That this was the only case where he was to be -used was unlikely. Having used him once he would be at their command -again. But would he? Anthony Trent sat back in his chair deep lines on -his drawn white face. This was the reward of the life he had led. And -the way to break from Kaufmann's grip was to run the risk of the long -prison term, or--the taking of a life. And even were he to come to this -Kaufmann might be only one of a gang whose other members might command -his services. - -"I shall send you a message by telephone if it is still in your flat. It -is? Good. That simplifies matters. Wait until you receive it and then -act immediately." - -Anthony Trent disregarded the outstretched hand and cordial smile, when -a minute or so later, the train pulled into the Grand Central. He hailed -a taxi and drove to his rooms utterly obsessed with his bitter thoughts. -It was not until he pulled up the shades and glanced about the place -that he remembered Mrs. Kinney. He had forgotten her. But he relied on -her common sense. Sooner or later she would come. Meanwhile he must wait -for Kaufmann's telephone message. - -The message arrived before the woman. "To-morrow," said Kaufmann, "your -friend leaves for Washington. He is staying at the Carlton and goes to -his room after dinner. He will be pleased to see you. To-morrow night I -shall call upon you soon after dark." - -The Carlton was the newest of the hotels, the most superbly decorated, -the hotel that always disappointed the _nouveau riche_ because so little -goldleaf had been used in the process. Anthony Trent had spent a night -or two in every big hotel the city boasted. In a little note book there -were certain salient features carefully put down, hints which might be -useful to him. Turning to the book he read it carefully. He was already -acquainted with the general lay-out of the hotel which had been -generously explained in the architectural papers. - -The hotel detectives were men of whom he liked to learn as much as -possible. The house detective, the head of them, was Francis Xavier -Glynn who felt himself kin to Gaboriau because of his subtle methods. He -would often come to the hotel desk and register talking in a loud tone -about his Western business connections. He dressed in what he assumed -was the Western manner. To his associates this seemed the height of -cunning. As a matter of fact the high class crook who prefers the high -class hotel knew of it and was amused. Clarke was Trent's informant. The -old editor had pointed him out to the younger man one day when they had -met near enough to the hotel's cafe entrance to go in and have a drink. - -As a rule Trent made elaborate plans for the successful carrying out of -his work. But here he was suddenly told to engage in a very difficult -operation. Disguises must be good indeed to stand the glare of hotel -corridors and dining rooms. He decided to go and trust to some plan -suggesting itself when the moment arrived. - -He registered as Conway Parker of York, Pennsylvania and the grip which -the boy carried to his room had on it "C.P. York, Pa." Trent had given a -couple of dollars for it at a second hand store. It dulled suspicions -which might have been aroused where the bag and initials glaringly new. -It was part of Francis Xavier Glynn's plan to have the hotel boys report -hourly on any unusual happening. - -As Trent had waited to register he noted the name he was looking for, -Commander Heathcote, had a room on the 17th floor. Parker was assigned -to one on the seventh. Directly the boy had left Anthony Trent started -to work. He found just cause of offense so far as the location of his -room went. It was an inside room and the heat of the day made it -oppressive. Commander Heathcote, as he found by taking a trip to the -seventeenth floor, had an outside room. A further investigation proved -that immediately over the Commander's room was an unoccupied suite. To -effect the exchange was not easy. Trent could not very well dictate the -location of the room or betray so exact a knowledge of hotel topography -without incurring suspicion. But at last the thing was done. The -gentleman from York wanted a sitting room, bedroom and bath and obtained -it immediately over those of the naval officer. - -He passed Heathcote in the dining room, and looked at him keenly. The -two men were of a height. Heathcote was broader. Trent instantly knew -him for that fighting type characterized by the short, straight nose, -cleft chin and light blue eyes. It was a man to beware of in an -encounter. He limped a little and walked with a cane. And while he -waited for his _hors d'oeuvres_ he took out a long pigskin cigarette -case. It was within ten feet of the man who had come to steal it. For a -wild moment he wondered whether it were possible to lunge for it and -make his escape. A moment later he was annoyed that such a puerile -thought had visited him. It meant that his nerves were not under their -usual control. - -After dinner two or three men spoke to the Commander as he limped toward -the elevator. One, a British colonel, shook hands heartily and -congratulated him on the V.C. Another, a stranger evidently, tried to -get him into conversation. Trent noted that the Commander, although -courteous to a degree, was not minded to make hotel acquaintances. He -declined a drink and refused a cigar by taking out his cigarette case. -The stranger looked at it curiously. - -"Seen some service, hasn't it?" the affable stranger remarked and took -it from the owner's hand. - -"A very old pal," said the naval man. Trent had observed the slight -hesitation before he had permitted it to leave his hand. "I wouldn't -lose it for a lot." - -Trent stood ready. It might be that this thick skinned stranger was -after the same loot as he. But he handed it back and strolled off to the -cafe where he joined a group of perfectly respectable business men from -Columbus, O. - -As most travelers in first class hotels know, the eighteenth story of -the Carlton looks across a block of fashionable private houses on its -north side. There is on that account no possibility of any prying -stranger gazing into its rooms from across the way. Towering above these -lesser habitations the Carlton looms inaccessible, austere, remote. - -In the grip which had once belonged to the unknown "C. P. of York, Pa." -Anthony Trent had put the kit necessary for a short stay. There was also -certain equipment without which certain nervous travelers rarely stray -from home. For example there was a small axe. In a collision at sea many -are drowned who might escape did not the impact have the effect of -jamming the doors of their state rooms. The axe in the hands of the -thoughtful voyager could be used to hack through thin planking to -freedom. There was also a small coil of high grade rope, tested to three -hundred pounds. In case of fire the careful traveler might slide to -earth. Not, of course, from an eighteenth floor. - -At half past one that night it was very dark and cloudy. A light rain -dropped on dusty streets and there was silence. Tying his line to the -firm anchorage of a pipe in the bath room Anthony Trent began his work. -He was dressed in a dark blue suit. He wore no collar and on his hands -were dark gray gloves. Below him was the green and white striped awning -that protected Commander Heathcote's windows. It was almost certain that -an Englishman would sleep with windows open. - -It was not difficult for a gymnast to slide down the rope head foremost. -When Trent could touch the top of the Heathcote awning he took a safety -razor blade from his lips and cut a slit across it sufficiently wide to -admit his head and shoulders. - -It was not a descent which caused much trouble. There was the chance -that the rope might break. He wondered through how many awnings he would -plunge before consciousness left him. - -Heathcote was asleep. By a table near the bed was an ash tray, matches, -Conrad's "Youth" and the cigarette case. And lying near was the stout -cane which the man who was wounded in that splendid attack on Zeebrugge -used to aid himself in his halting walk. - -Trent, with the case in his pocket, walked to the door. It was not his -intention to make the more hazardous climb up to his room when so easy a -way of getting there presented itself. It was locked and barred. - -In his room he sat and looked at what he had taken. It represented, so -Kaufmann said, his freedom from arrest. It contained plans of vital -importance to the allies. They could only be used by the enemy to bring -destruction to those who fought for right. And what punishment would be -given the wounded hero for losing what was entrusted to him? For an hour -Trent sat there looking at the pigskin case. And gradually what had -seemed an impossible sacrifice to make, came to be something desirable -and splendid. Anthony Trent had never been able to regard his career as -one justified by circumstances. There burned in his breast the spark of -patriotism more strongly than he knew. He had fought his fight and won. -His eyes were moist as he thought of his father, that old civil war -soldier who had been wounded on Gettysburg's bloody field and walked -always with a limp like the English sailor beneath. - -When he opened the door Heathcote was still slumbering. He replaced the -case as nearly in the position he found as he could. In that moment -Anthony Trent felt he could look any man in the face. - -He was still slumbering when Commander Heathcote awoke. Presently the -officer saw that the door was unbarred and as investigation proved, -unlocked. - -"I'd have sworn," muttered the Commander, "that I locked and barred -it." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -MRS. KINNEY INTERVENES - - -AT his apartment, which he reached by noon, he found a note from Mrs. -Kinney advising him that she would not be back until late. A salad would -be found in the ice box. But his appetite had deserted him and strong -tea and crackers sufficed him. The feeling of exaltation which had -carried him along was now dying down leaving in its place a grim, dogged -determination. He saw now very clearly that the time was come to pay for -his misdeeds. Dimly he had felt that some day there would have to be a -reckoning. He had never thought it so near. - -It would not have been difficult to make his escape from the man who -threatened. With his swift motor he could cross some sparsely peopled -border district into Canada. Or he could drop down into South or Central -America and there wait until the years brought safety or he had -deteriorated in fibre as do most men of his race in tropic sloth. - -The thing that kept him was a chivalrous, burning desire to capture -Kaufmann. Anthony Trent wondered how many men weaker than he had been -forced to betray their country as he had very nearly done. And the -knowledge that he had even considered such baseness for a moment -awakened a deep smouldering wrath in his mind that needed for its outlet -some expression of physical force. Kaufmann was strongly built and -rugged but it would hardly be a smiling suave spy that he would drag -before the police. At least they would go down to ruin together. - -At ten thirty the bell rang. But the feeble steps that made their weary -ascent were those of Mrs. Kinney. When first he flung open the door he -hardly recognized her. As a rule neat and quietly dressed in black she -was to-night wearing the faded gingham dress she used for rough work, a -dress he had seldom seen. She wore no hat; instead a handkerchief was on -her head. She looked for all the world like some shabby denizen of the -city's foreign quarters. - -"Are you expecting him?" she demanded. - -"Yes," he said dully. It was a shock not to meet him when he was nerved -to the task. - -She looked at him with a certain triumph in her face that was not -unmixed with affection. - -"He will never come here again." - -"What do you mean?" he cried. - -"He's dead." It was curious to note the flash of her usually mild eye as -she said it. For a moment he thought the old woman was demented. But her -voice was firm. - -"I followed him on his way here," she went on. "I found out where he -lived. As he crossed Eighth avenue at 34th street I told people he was a -German spy. There were a lot of soldiers on their way to the -Pennsylvania station and they started to run after him. Then a man -tripped him up but he got to his feet and crossed the road in front of a -motor truck." - -"You are certain he was killed?" - -"I waited to make sure," she said simply. "Nobody knew it was I who -started calling him a spy." - -There was a pause of half a minute. The knowledge of his safety was -almost too much for Trent after his hours of suspense. - -"I suppose you know," he said huskily, "that you've probably saved my -life. I didn't do as he wanted me to. I was prepared to denounce him to -the police." - -"But they'd have got you, too," she said. - -"I know," he returned. "I'd thought of that." - -"Oh, Mr. Trent!" she cried, "Oh, Mr. Trent!" Then for the second time in -the years he had known her she fell into a fit of weeping. - -When she was recovered and had taken a cup of strong tea she explained -how it was she had tracked Kaufmann to his home. She had slipped away -from Trent at the Grand Central when he was too much worried to notice -it. Kaufmann walked the half dozen blocks to his rooms in the house -occupied by a physician on Forty-eighth street, just west of Fifth -avenue. Applying for work Mrs. Kinney was engaged instantly for two days -a week. The need for respectable women was so great that no references -were asked. She was thus free of the house and regarded without -suspicion. - -She worked there the whole day but learned nothing from the cook and -waitress of Mr. Kaufmann. He rented the whole of the second floor and -had a fad for keeping it in order himself. It saved them trouble. The -maids said, vaguely, he was in the importing business and very wealthy. - -It was while Kaufmann went down to sign for a registered letter that -Mrs. Kinney slipped into the room. There was nothing in the way of -papers or documents that she could see. - -Because he could not bear investigation, Anthony Trent telephoned to the -Department of Justice as he had done in the case of Frederick Williams. -He felt certain that Kaufmann was a highly placed official. But there -was no newspaper mention of the raid. Trent was not to know that no news -was allowed to leak out for the reason that matters of enormous -importance were discovered. He was right in assuming Kaufmann to be a -personage. The mangled body was buried in the Potters' Field and those -lesser men depending on the monetary support and counsel of Kaufmann -were thrown into confusion. His superiors in Germany, when later they -found the Allies in possession of certain secrets, assumed their agent -to be interned. Altogether Mrs. Kinney deserved her country's thanks. - -"And now shall we go back to Kennebago?" - -"Not yet," he said smiling a little gravely. "Not yet. It may be I shall -never see Kennebago again." - -She looked at him startled. The affairs of the past week had been a -great strain to her. - -"I'm going to enlist," he said. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -"PRIVATE TRENT" - - -Before Trent went to enlist, he had an understanding with Mrs. Kinney as -to the Kennebago camp. She was to live there and keep the house and -gardens in good order until he returned. He had none of those -premonitions of disaster which some who go to war have in abundance. Now -that the danger of his arrest was gone and Kaufmann could never again -entrap him he felt cheerful and lighthearted. - -"I shall come back," he told the old woman, "I feel it in my bones. But -if not there will be enough for you to live on. I am seeing my lawyer -about it this morning." - -On the way to the recruiting station, Trent met Weems. - -"What branch are you going in?" he asked upon learning of Trent's plans. - -"Where I'm most needed," Trent said cheerfully. "Infantry I guess." - -"You can get a commission right away," Weems cried, a sudden thought -striking him. "It was in last night's papers. It said that men holding -the B.S. degree were wanted and would be commissioned right off the -reel. You're a B.S. You wait a bit. Be an officer instead of an enlisted -man. I bet the food's better." - -He was a little piqued that Anthony Trent betrayed so little pleasure at -the news. It so happened that Trent had given a deal of thought to this -very thing. And his decision was to allow the chance of a commission to -go. There was a strain of quixotism about him and a certain fineness of -feeling which went to make this decision final. He loved his country in -the quiet intense manner which does not show itself in the waving of -flags. To outward appearances and to the unjudging mind, Weems would -seem the more loyal of the two. Weems wore a flag in his buttonhole and -shouted loudly his protestations and yet had made no sacrifice. Trent -was to offer his life quietly, untheatrically. And he wanted to wear no -officer's uniform in case his arrest or discovery would bring reproach -upon it. In his mind he could see headlines in the paper announcing that -an officer of the United States Army was a notorious--he shuddered at -the word--thief. And again, there was no certainty in his mind that he -would give up his mode of life. In the beginning he had set out to -obtain enough money to live in comfort. That, long ago, had been -achieved. Then the jewels to adorn his lamp occupied his mind and now -the game was in his blood. He wanted his camp for recreation but it -would not satisfy wholly. When the war was over there would be Europe's -fertile fields to work upon. - -There were many things to aid him in his feeling that the turning over -of a new leaf would be useless. Nothing could ever undo what he had -done. Try as he might he would never face the world an honest man. He -would go to war. He would be a good soldier. - -It was in the infantry that they needed men and Camp Dix received him -with others. So insignificant a thing was one soldier that he presently -felt a sense of security that had been denied him for years. - -The experiences he went through in Camp were common to all. They were -easier to him than most because of his perfection of physical condition. -On the whole it was interesting work but he was glad when he marched -along the piers of the Army Transport Service, where formerly German -lines had docked, and boarded the _Leviathan_. Private Trent was going -"over there." - -It was common knowledge that the regiments would not yet be sent to -France. What they had learned at Camp Dix would be supplemented by a -post-graduate course in England. - -Curiously enough Trent found himself on the Sussex Downs, those rolling -hills of chalk covered with short springy aromatic grasses and flowers. -Here were a hundred sights and sounds that stirred his blood. Five -generations of Trents had been born in America since that adventurous -younger son had set out for the Western world. The present Anthony was -coming back to the ancient home of his family under the most favorable -circumstances. He was coming back with his mind purged of ancient -enmities fostered so long by Britain's foes to further alien causes; -coming back to a country knit to his own by bonds that would not easily -be broken. - -It was curious that he should find himself here on the high downs -because it was from this county of Sussex that the Trents sprang. Not -far from Lewes was an old house, set among elms, which had been theirs -for three hundred years. When he was last in England he had made a -pilgrimage to it only to find its owner salmon fishing in Norway. The -housekeeper had shown him over it, a big rambling house full of odd -corridors and unexpected steps and he had never failed to think of it -with pride. On that visit he had been disappointed to find the village -church shut; the sexton was at his midday dinner. - -Trent had been under canvas only a few days when he obtained leave for a -few hours and set out to the church. He counted three Anthony Trents -whose deeds were told on mural tablets. One had been an admiral; one a -bishop and the third a colonel of Dragoons at Waterloo. He sauntered by -the old house and looked at it enviously. "If I bought that," he -thought, "I would settle down to the ways of honest men." - -He shrugged his shoulders. There were many things yet to be done. It was -only since he had been in England and seen her wounded that he realized -what none can until it is witnessed, the certainty that there must be -much suffering before the end is achieved. - -The men in his company were not especially congenial. They were friendly -enough but their interests were narrow. Trent was glad when the training -period was over and he embarked in the troop train for Dover _en route_ -to the Western front. He made a good soldier. More than one of his mates -said he would wear the chevrons before many weeks but he was anxious for -no such distinction. - -At the time his regiment arrived in France the American troops were at -grips with the enemy. It was the first time that they held as a unit -part of the line. The Germans, already making their retreat, left in -the rear nests of machine gunners to hamper the pursuers. To clear these -nests of hornets, to search abandoned cellars and buildings where men or -bombs might be lying in wait was a task far more deadly than -participation in a battle. Only iron-nerved men, strong to act and quick -to think, were needed. There was a day when volunteers were asked for. -Anthony Trent was the first man to offer himself. Under a lieutenant -this band of brave men went about its dangerous task. The casualties -were many and among them the officer. - -He had made such an impression on his men and they had gained such -favorable mention for gallant conduct that there was a fear lest the new -officer might be of less vigorous and dashing nature. It was work, this -nest clearing danger, that Trent liked enormously. He had come to know -what traps the Hun was likely to set, the tempting cigar-box, the field -glasses, the fountain-pen the touching of which meant maiming at the -least. And against some of these trapped men Trent revived his old -football tackle and brought them startled to the ground. It was the most -stirring game of his life. - -But one look at the new officer changed his mood. He looked at his -lieutenant and his lieutenant looked at him. And the officer licked his -lips hungrily. It was Devlin whom he had laughed at in San Francisco. -Instinctively the men who observed this meeting sensed some pre-war -hatred and speculated on its origin. Recollecting himself Trent saluted. - -"So I've got a thief in my company," Devlin sneered. "I'll have to -watch you pretty close. Looting's forbidden." - -It was plain to the men who watched Devlin's subsequent plan of action -that he was trying to goad the enlisted man into striking him. In France -the discipline of the American army was taking on the sterner character -of that which distinguished the Allies. - -No task had ever been so difficult for Anthony Trent as this continual -curb he was compelled to put upon his tongue. Devlin had always disliked -him. He was maddened at the thought that Trent had taken the Mount Aubyn -ruby from under his nose. It was because of this, Dangerfield had -discharged him from a lucrative position. And in the case of the -Takowaja emerald it was Anthony Trent who had laughed at him. Many an -hour had Devlin spent trying to weave the rope that would hang him. And -in these endeavors he had gathered many odds and ends of information -over which he chuckled with joy. - -But first of all he wanted to break his enemy. There was no opportunity -of which he did not take advantage. Ordinarily his superior officers -would have witnessed this policy and reprimanded him; but conditions -were such that their special duties kept Devlin and his men apart from -their comrades. Devlin was a good officer and credit was given him for -much that Trent deserved. - -It chanced one night that while they waited for a little wood to be -cleared of gas, Devlin and Trent sat within a few feet of one another. -It was an opportunity Devlin was quick to seize. - -"Thought you'd fooled me in 'Frisco, didn't you?" - -Trent lighted a cigarette with exasperating slowness. - -"I did fool you," he asserted calmly. "It is never hard to fool a man -with your mental equipment." - -"Huh," Devlin grunted, "you've got the criminal's low cunning, I'll -admit that, Mr. Maltby of Chicago." - -He made a labored pretence of hunting for his cigarette case. - -"Gone!" he said sneering; "some one's lifted it but I guess you know -where it is. Oh no, I forgot. You weren't a dip, you were a second story -man. Excuse me." - -He kept this heavy and malicious humor going until Trent's -imperturbability annoyed him. - -"What a change!" he commented presently. "Me the officer and you the -enlisted man who's got to do as I say. You with your fast auto and your -golf and society ways and me who used to be a cop." - -Winning no retort from his victim he leaned forward and pushed Trent -roughly. He started back at the white wrath which transfigured the -other's face. - -"Look here, Devlin," Trent cried savagely, "you want me to hit you so -you can prefer charges against me for striking an officer and have me -disciplined. Listen to this: if you put your filthy hand on me again I -won't hit you, I'll kill you." - -Towering and threatening he stood over the other. Devlin, who knew men -and the ways of violence, looked into Trent's face and recognized it was -no idle threat he heard. - -"That would be a hell of a fine trick," he said, a little unsteadily, -"to empty your gun in my back." - -"You know I wouldn't do it that way," Trent retorted. "Why should I let -you off so easily as that?" - -"Easily?" Devlin repeated. - -"When I get ready," Trent said grimly, "I shall want you to realize -what's coming to you." - -"Is that a threat?" Devlin demanded. - -Trent nodded his head. - -"It's a threat." - -Devlin thought for a moment. - -"I'll fix you," he said. - -"How?" Trent inquired. "You've tried every way there is to have me -killed. If there's a doubtful place where some boches may be hiding with -bombs whom do you send to find out? You send Private Trent. I'm not -kicking. I volunteered for the job. I came out to do what I could. My -one disappointment is that my officer is not also a gentleman." - -Devlin's face was now better humored. - -"I'll fix you," he said again, "I'll see Pershing pins a medal on you -all right." - -Trent wondered what he meant. And he wondered why for a day or two -Devlin goaded him no more. Instead he looked at him as one who knew -another was marked down for death and disgrace. It was inevitable that -Anthony Trent could never know how near to discovery he was. The odds -are against the best breakers of law. The history of crime told him that -the cleverest had been captured by some trifling piece of carelessness. -Had Devlin some such clue, he wondered? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -DEVLIN'S REVENGE - - -THERE came a night when Devlin's men were called upon to clean out part -of a forest from which many snipers had been firing, and where machine -guns and their crews were known to be. It was work for picked men only -and Trent admitted Devlin made a courageous leader. - -The Americans met unexpectedly strong opposition. It was only when half -their little company was lost that they were ordered to retreat. The way -was made difficult with barbed wire and shell splintered trees. It was -one of a hundred similar sorties taking place all along the Allied lines -hardly worthy of mention in the press. - -Trent, when he had gained a clearing in the wood, saw Devlin go down -like an ox from the clubbed rifle in a Prussian hand. Trent had put a -shot through the man's head almost before Devlin's body fell to the soft -earth. He had an excellent chance of escape alone but he could not leave -the American officer who was his enemy to bleed to death among his -country's foes. He was almost spent when he reached his own lines and -the Red Cross relieved him of his inert burden. They told him Devlin -still lived. - -Three days later Trent was called to the hospital in which his officer -lay white and bandaged. Although Devlin's voice was weak it did not -lack the note of enmity which ever distinguished it when its owner spoke -to Anthony Trent. - -"What did you do it for?" Devlin demanded. - -"Do what?" - -"Bring me in after that boche laid me out?" - -"Only one reason," Trent informed him. "Alive, you have a certain use to -your country. Dead, you would have none." - -"That's a lie," Devlin snarled, "I've figured it out lying in this -damned cot. You saw I wasn't badly hurt and you knew some of the boys -would fetch me in later. You thought you'd do a hero stunt and get a -decoration and you reckoned I'd be grateful and let up on you. That was -clever but not clever enough for me. I see through it. You've got away -with out-guessing the other feller so far but I'm one jump ahead of you -in this." He paused for breath, "I've got you fixed, Mister Anthony -Trent, and don't you forget it. You think I'm bluffing I suppose." - -"I think you're exciting yourself unduly," Trent said quietly. "Take it -up when you are well." - -"You're afraid to hear what I know," Devlin sneered. "You've got to hear -it sometime, so why not now?" - -Trent spoke as one does to a child or a querulous invalid. - -"Well, what is it?" he demanded. - -"Never heard of any one named Austin, did you?" - -"It's not an unusual name," Trent admitted. But he was no longer -uninterested. Conington Warren's butler was so called. And this Austin -had met him face to face on the stairway of his master's house on the -night that he had taken Conington Warren's loose cash and jewels. - -"He's out here," Devlin said and looked hard at Trent to see what effect -the news would have. - -"You forget I don't know whom," Trent reminded him. "What Austin?" - -"You know," Devlin snapped, "the Warren butler. I was on that case and -he recognized me not a week ago and asked me who you were. He's seen -you, too. We put two and two together and it spells the pen for you. He -was English and although he was over age the British are polite that -way. If he said he was forty-one they said they guessed he was -forty-one. I went to see him in a hospital before he 'went west' and he -told me all about it." - -Anthony Trent could not restrain a sigh of relief. Austin was dead. - -"That don't help you any," Devlin cried. "Don't you wish you'd left me -in the woods now? That was your opportunity. Why didn't you take it?" - -"You wouldn't understand," Trent answered. "For one thing you dislike me -too much to see anything but bad in what I do. That's your weakness. -That's why you have always failed." - -"Well, I haven't failed this time," Devlin taunted him. "I've laid -information against you where it's going to do most good." - -He hoped to see the man he hated exhibit fear, plead for mercy or beg -for a respite. He had rehearsed this expected scene during the night -watches. Instead he saw the hawk-like face inscrutable as ever. - -"I've told the adjutant what I know and what Austin said and he's bound -to make an investigation. That means you'll be sent home for trial and -I guess you know what that means. I'm going to be invalided home and -I'll put in my leave working up the case against you. They ought to give -you a stretch of anything from fifteen to twenty years. I guess that'll -hold you, Mister Anthony Trent." - -The other man made no answer. He thought instead of what such a prison -term would do for him. He had seen the gradual debasement of men of even -a high type during the long years of internment. Men who had gone -through prison gates with the same instincts of refinement as he -possessed to come out coarsened, different, never again to be the men -they were. He would sidle through the gaping doors a furtive thing with -cunning crafty eyes whose very walk stamped him a convict. How could so -long a term of years spent among professional criminals fail to besmirch -him? - -He took a long breath. - -"I'm not there yet," he said. "It's a long way to an American jail and a -good bit can happen in three thousand miles." - -He was turned from these dismal channels of thought by a hospital -orderly who summoned him to the adjutant's quarters. - -In civil life this officer had been a well known lawyer who had -abandoned a large practice to take upon himself the over work and -worries that always hurl themselves at an adjutant. - -He had heard of the rescue of Lieutenant Devlin by a man of his company -and was pleased to learn that it was an alumnus of his old college who -had been recommended for a decoration on that account. He looked at -Trent a moment in silence. - -"When I last saw you," he said, "you won the game for us against -Harvard." He sighed, "I never thought to see you in a case of this -sort." - -"I don't know what you mean, sir," Trent answered him. - -"For some reason or another," the adjutant informed him, "Lieutenant -Devlin has preferred charges against you which had better been left -until this war is over in my opinion as a soldier." - -"I am still in the dark," Trent reminded him. - -Captain Sutton looked over some papers. - -"You are charged," he said, "with being a very remarkable and much -sought after criminal. Devlin asserts you purloined a ruby owned by Mr. -Dangerfield worth a hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars, and an -emerald worth almost as much." - -"What a curious delusion," Trent commented with calmness. - -"Delusion?" retorted the adjutant. - -"What else could it be?" the other inquired. - -"It might be the truth," the officer said drily. - -"Does he offer proofs?" - -"More I'm afraid than you'll care to read," Captain Sutton told him. -"You understand, I suppose, that there are certain regulations which -govern us in a case like this. I should like to dismiss it as something -entirely irrelevant to military duties. You were a damned good football -player, Trent, and they tell me you're just as good a soldier, but an -officer has preferred charges against you and they must be given -attention. Sit down there for a few minutes." - -Devlin, feeling the hour of triumph approaching, lay back in his bed -gloating. The hatred that he bore Anthony Trent was legitimate enough in -its way. By some accident or another Devlin was enlisted on the side of -the law and his opponent against it. One was the hunter; the other the -hunted. And the hunter was soon to witness the disgrace of the man who -had laughed at him, beaten him, cheated him of a coveted position. -Naturally of a brave and pugnacious disposition, Devlin saw no lack of -chivalry in hounding a man over whom he had military authority. If Trent -had been his friend he would have fought for him. But since he was his -foe he must taste the bitterness of the vanquished. - -So engrossed was he over his pleasurable thoughts that he did not see -the distress which came over the face of the nurse who took his -temperature and recorded his pulse beat. Nor did he see the hastily -summoned physician reading the recently marked chart over the bed. -Instead he was filled with a strange and satisfying exaltation of -spirit. Catches of old forgotten songs came back to him. He felt himself -growing stronger. He was Devlin the superman, the captor of Anthony -Trent who had beaten the best of them. It was almost with irritation -that he opened his eyes to speak with the doctor, a middle-aged, gray -man with kindly eyes. - -"Lieutenant," the doctor said gently, "things aren't going as well with -you as we hoped. You should not have exhausted yourself talking. It -should not have been allowed." - -Devlin saw the doctor put his hand under the coverlet; then he felt a -prick in his arm. Dully he knew that it was the sting of a hypodermic. -Then he saw coming toward him a priest of his race and faith and knew he -came in that dread hour to administer the last rites of the church. - -"Doc," he gasped, "am I going?" - -It was no moment to utter lying comfort. - -"I'm afraid so." - -Then he saw an orderly bringing the screen that was placed about the -beds of those about to die. - - * * * * * - -When Captain Sutton and Anthony Trent came into the ward the priest had -finished his solemn work and was gone to console another dying man and -the physicians to make one of those quick operations unthinkable in the -leisurely days of peace. - -Trent had no knowledge of what had taken place during his absence. He -saw that his enemy was more exhausted. And as he looked he noticed that -the eyes of Devlin lacked something of their hate. But it was no time -for speculation. Trent saw in the sick man only his nemesis, the -instrument which fate was using to rob him of his liberty. He was not to -know that here was a man so close to death that hate seemed idle and -vengeance a burden. - -"Lieutenant," Captain Sutton began, "I have here a copy of your -statements and the evidence given by Sergeant Austin of the British -army. I will read it to you. Then I shall need witnesses to your -signature." - -"Let me see it," Devlin commanded and drew the typewritten sheets to -him. Then, with what strength was left him, he tore the document across -and across again. - -Captain Sutton looked at him in amazement. - -"What did you do that for?" he asked. - -But Devlin paid no heed to him. He gazed into the face of Anthony Trent, -the man he had hated. - -"I made a mistake," said Devlin faintly. "This isn't the man." - -And with this splendid and generous lie upon his lips he came to his -life's end. - -FINIS - - * * * * * - -Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - -A little aften ten=> A little after ten {pg 11} - -patroling city sidewalks=> patrolling city sidewalks {pg 37} - -a champaign-drinking adventuress=> a champagne-drinking adventuress {pg -90} - -recited Brigg's evidence=> recited Briggs's evidence {pg 95} - -said Trent a minute later, "It is the=> said Trent a minute later, "it -is the {pg 157} - -His grievance, is seemed=> His grievance, it seemed {pg 172} - -a twenty-foot put=> a twenty-foot putt {pg 173} - -a women I hardly know=> a woman I hardly know {pg 203} - -we found the the big living room door=> we found the big living room -door {pg 205} - -"Knowing Andrew Apthorpe it does not," he answered=> "Knowing Andrew -Apthorpe it does not," she answered {pg 206} - -Most woman hate=> Most women hate {pg 214} - -other friends were to be Trent's guest=> other friends were to be -Trent's guests {pg 222} - -Assuredly a a timid=> Assuredly a timid {pg 239} - -so report ran=> so the report ran {pg 243} - -starling a contrast=> startling a contrast {pg 244} - -a certain sublety about=> a certain subtlety about {pg 248} - -In the billard room=> In the billiard room {pg 251} - -furniture Weens had gathered=> furniture Weems had gathered {pg 267} - -looms inaccessibles=> looms inaccessible {pg 294} - -when it's owner spoke=> when its owner spoke {pg 310} - -Conington's Warren's loose cash=> Conington Warren's loose cash {pg 311} - -the adjustant's quarters=> the adjutant's quarters {pg 312} - - * * * * * - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Anthony Trent, Master Criminal, by Wyndham Martyn - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL *** - -***** This file should be named 40909.txt or 40909.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/9/0/40909/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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