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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5672-0.txt b/5672-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9049049 --- /dev/null +++ b/5672-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7157 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Voice on the Wire, by Eustace Hale Ball + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Voice on the Wire + +Author: Eustace Hale Ball + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5672] +Posting Date: June 12, 2009 +Last Updated: March 14, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOICE ON THE WIRE *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + + + + + + + +THE VOICE ON THE WIRE + + +By Eustace Hale Ball + + + + +CHAPTER I. WHEN THREE IS A MYSTERY + + + +“Mr. Shirley is waiting for you in the grill-room, sir. Just step this +way, sir, and down the stairs.” + +The large man awkwardly followed the servant to the cosey grill-room on +the lower floor of the club house. He felt that every man of the little +groups about the Flemish tables must be saying: “What's he doing here?” + +“I wish Monty Shirley would meet me once in a while in the back room of +a ginmill, where I'd feel comfortable,” muttered the unhappy visitor. +“This joint is too classy. But that's his game to play--” + +He reached the sought-for one, however, and exclaimed eagerly: “By +Jiminy, Monty. I'm glad to find you--it would have been my luck after +this day, to get here too late.” + +He was greeted with a grip that made even his generous hand wince, as +the other arose to smile a welcome. + +“Hello, Captain Cronin. You're a good sight for a grouchy man's eyes! +Sit down and confide the brand of your particular favorite poison to our +Japanese Dionysius!” + +The Captain sighed with relief, as he obeyed. + +“Bar whiskey is good enough for an old timer like me. Don't tell me you +have the blues--your face isn't built that way!” + +“Gospel truth, Captain. I've been loafing around this club--nothing to +do for a month. Bridge, handball, highballs, and yarns! I'm actually a +nervous wreck because my nerves haven't had any work to do!” + +“You're the healthiest invalid I've seen since the hospital days in the +Civil War. But don't worry about something to do. I've some job now. +It's dolled up with all them frills you like: millions, murders and +mysteries! If this don't keep you awake, you'll have nightmares for the +next six months. Do you want it?” + +“I'm tickled to death. Spill it!” + +“Monty, it's the greatest case my detective agency has had since I left +the police force eleven years ago. It's too big for me, and I've come +to you to do a stunt as is a stunt. You will plug it for me, won't +you--just as you've always done? If I get the credit, it'll mean a +fortune to me in the advertising alone.” + +“Haven't I handled every case for you in confidence. I'm not a fly-cop, +Captain Cronin. I'm a consulting specialist, and there's no shingle hung +out. Perhaps you had better take it to some one else.” + +Shirley pushed away his empty glass impatiently. + +“There, Monty, I didn't mean to offend you. But there's such swells +in this and such a foxey bunch of blacklegs, that I'm as nervous as a +rookie cop on his first arrest. Don't hold a grudge against me.” + +Shirley lit a cigarette and resumed his good nature: “Go on, Captain. +I'm so stale with dolce far niente, after the Black Pearl affair last +month, that I act like an amateur myself. Make it short, though, for I'm +going to the opera.” + +The Captain leaned over the table, his face tense with suppressed +emotion. He was a grizzled veteran of the New York police force: a man +who sought his quarry with the ferocity of a bull-dog, when the line +of search was definitely assured. Lacking imagination and the subtler +senses of criminology, Captain Cronin had built up a reputation for +success and honesty in every assignment by bravery, persistence, and +as in this case, the ability to cover his own deductive weakness by +employing the brains of others. + +Montague Shirley was as antithetical from the veteran detective as a man +could well be. A noted athlete in his university, he possessed a society +rating in New York, at Newport and Tuxedo, and on the Continent which +was the envy of many a gilded youth born to the purple. + +On leaving college, despite an ample patrimony, he had curiously enough +entered the lists as a newspaper man. From the sporting page he was +graduated to police news, then the city desk, at last closing his career +as the genius who invented the weekly Sunday thriller, in many colors +of illustration and vivacious Gallic style which interpreted into heart +throbs and goose-flesh the real life romances and tragedies of the +preceding six days! He had conquered the paper-and-ink world--then deep +within there stirred the call for participation in the game itself. + +So, dropping quietly into the apparently indolent routine of club +existence, he had devoted his experience and genius to analytical +criminology--a line of endeavor known only to five men in the world. + +He maintained no offices. He wore no glittering badges: a police card, +a fire badge, and a revolver license, renewed year after year, were the +only instruments of his trade ever in evidence. Shirley took assignments +only from the heads of certain agencies, by personal arrangement as +informal as this from Captain Cronin. His real clients never knew of his +participation, and his prey never understood that he had been the real +head-hunter! + +His fees--Montague Shirley, as a master craftsman deemed his artistry +worthy of the hire. His every case meant a modest fortune to the +detective agency and Shirley's bills were never rendered, but always +paid! + +So, here, the hero of the gridiron and the class re-union, the gallant +of a hundred pre-matrimonial and non-maturing engagements, the veteran +of a thousand drolleries and merry jousts in clubdom--unspoiled by +birth, breeding and wealth, untrammeled by the juggernaut of pot-boiling +and the salary-grind, had drifted into the curious profession of +confidential, consulting criminal chaser. + +Shirley unostentatiously signaled for an encore on the refreshments. + +“You're nervous to-night, Captain. You've been doing things before you +consulted me--which is against our Rule Number One, isn't it?” + +The Captain gulped down his whiskey, and rubbed his forehead. + +“Couldn't help it, Monty. It got too busy for me, before I realized +anything unusual in the case. See what I got from a gangster before I +landed here.” + +He turned his close-cropped head, as Montague Shirley leaned forward +to observe an abrasion at the base of his skull. It was dressed with a +coating of collodion. + +“Brass knuckled--I see the mark of the rings. Tried for the +pneumogastric nerves, to quiet you.” + +“Whatever he tried for he nearly got. Kelly's nightstick got his +pneumonia gas jet, or whatever you call it. He's still quiet, in the +station house--You know old man Van Cleft, who owns sky-scrapers +down town, don't you?--Well, he's the center of this flying wedge of +excitement. His family are fine people, I understand. His daughter was +to be married next week. Monty, that wedding'll be postponed, and old +Van Cleft won't worry over dispossess papers for his tenants for the +rest of the winter. See?” + +“Killed?” + +“Correct. He's done, and I had a hell of a time getting the body home, +before the coroner and the police reporters got on the trail.” + +Shirley lowered his high-ball glass, with an earnest stare. + +“What was the idea?” + +“Robbery, of course. His son had me on the case--'phoned from the +garage where the chauffeur brought the body; after he saw the old man +unconscious. Just half an hour before he had left his office in the same +machine, after taking five thousand dollars in cash from his manager.” + +“Who was with him?” + +“Now, that's getting to brass tacks. When I gets that C.Q.D. from +Van Cleft, I finds the young fellow inside the ring of rubbernecks, +blubbering over the old man, where he lies on the floor of the +taxi--looking soused.” + +“He was a notorious old sport about town, Captain.” + +“Sure--and I thinks, it sorter serves him right. But, that's his +funeral, not mine. Van Cleft, junior, says to me: 'There's the girl that +was with him.'” + +“Where was the girl?” + +“She was sitting on a stool, near the car, a little blonde chorus +chicken, shaking and twitching, while the chauffeur and the garage boss +held her up. I says, 'What's this?' and Van Cleft tells me all he knows, +which ain't nothing. Them guys in that garage was wise, for it meant a +cold five hundred apiece before I left to keep their lids closed. Van +Cleft begs me to hustle the old man home, so one of my men takes her +down to my office, still a sniffling, and acting like she had the +D.T.'s. The young fellow shook like a leaf, but we takes him over to +Central Park East, to the family mansion,--carrying him up the steps +like he was drunk. We gets him into his own bed, and keeps the sister +from touching his clammy hands, while she orders the family doctor. When +he gets there on the jump, I gives him the wink and leads him to one +side. 'Doc,' I says, 'you know how to write out a death certificate, to +hush this up from your end. I've done the rest.'” + +Captain Cronin leaned forward, a queer excitement agitating him. + +“Do you know what that doctor says to me, Monty?” + +Shirley shook his head. + +He says; “My God, it's the third!” + +Shirley's white hand gripped the edge of the table. “The Van Cleft's +doctor is one of the greatest surgeons in the country, Professor +MacDonald of the Medical College. He said that?” + +“He did. I answers, 'Whadd'y mean the third?' Then he looks me straight +in the eye, and sings back, 'None of your business.'” Cronin shook +his head. “I never seen a man with a squarer look, and yet he has me +guessing. I goes back to the garage, over past Eighth Avenue, you know, +where two johns come up along side o' me. One rubs me with his elbow +and the other applies that brass knuckle,--then they gets pinched. I got +dressed up in a drug store, got the chauffeur's license number, and goes +on down to my office to see this girl. She's hysterical about his family +using all their money to put her in jail. I looks at her, and says, 'You +won't need their money to get to jail. That old man's dead!' Her eyes +was as big as saucers. 'I thought old Daddy Van Cleft was drunk.' I +tells her, 'He was dead in that taxi, with a chorus girl, and a roll of +bills gone. What you got to say?' She staggers forward and clutches my +coat, and what do you think SHE says to me?” + +Shirley made the inquiry only with his eyes, puffing his cigarette +slowly. + +“She looks sorter green, and repeats after me: 'Dead, with a chorus +girl, and a roll of bills gone,'--just like a parrot. Then she springs +this on me: 'My God, it's the third!'” + +Shirley dropped his cigarette, leaning forward, all nonchalance gone. + +“Where is she now? Quick, let's go to her.” + +He rose to his feet. Just then a door-boy walked through the grill-room +toward him. “A telephone call for Captain Cronin, sir; the party said +hurry or he would miss something good.” + +Shirley snapped out, “When has the rule about telephone calls in this +club been changed? You boys are never to tell any one that a member or +guest are here until the name is announced.” + +He turned toward the puzzled Captain. + +“Did you ask any of your operatives to call you here? You know what a +risk you are taking, to connect me with this case like that, don't you?” + +“I never even breathed it to myself. I told no one.” + +“Follow me up to the telephone room.” + +Shirley hurried through the grill, to the switchboard, near which stood +the booths for private calls. He called to one of the operators. “Here, +let me at that switchboard.” He pushed the boy aside, and sat down in +the vacated chair. + +“Which trunk is it on? Oh, I see, the second. There Captain, take the +fourth booth against the wall.” + +Cronin stepped in. Shirley connected up and listened with the +transmitter of the operator at his ear, holding the line open. + +“Go ahead, here's Captain Cronin!” + +A pleasant voice came over the wire. It was musical and sincere. + +“Hello, Captain Cronin, is that you?” + +“Yes! What do you want?” + +The voice continued, with a jolly laugh, ringing and infectious in its +merriment. + +“Well, Captain, the joke's on you. Ha, ha, ha! It's a bully one! Ho, ho! +Ha, ha!” + +“What joke?” + +“You're working on the Van Cleft case. Oh, sure, you are, don't kid me +back. Well, Captain, you've missed two other perfectly good grafts. This +is the third one!” + +There was a click and the speaker, with another merry gurgle, rang off. + +“Quick, manager's desk,” cried Shirley, jiggling the metal key. “What +call was that? Where did it come from?” + +After a little wait, a languid voice answered: “Brooklyn, Main 6969, +Party C.” + +“Give me the number again--I want to speak on the wire.” + +After another delay, the voice replied “The line has been discontinued.” + +“I just had it! What is the name of the subscriber. Hurry, this is a +matter of life and death.” + +“It's against the rules to give any further information. But our record +shows that the house burned down about two weeks ago. No one else has +been given the number. There's no instrument there!” + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE FLEETING PROMPTER + + +Monty's puzzled smile was in no wise reciprocated by the Captain, whose +red face evidenced a growing resentment. + +He began a tirade, but a wink from the club man warned him. Shirley +replaced the receiver, and the regular attendant resumed his place +at the switchboard. The lad was curious at the unusual ability of +the wealthy Mr. Shirley to handle the bewildering maze of telephone +attachments. Monty explained, as he turned to go upstairs. + +“Son, that was one of my smart friends trying to play a practical joke +on my guest. I fooled him. Don't let it happen again, until you send in +the party's name first.” + +“Yes, sir,” meekly promised the boy. + +“Well, Captain Cronin, as the old paperback novels used to say at the +end of the first instalment, 'The Plot thickens!' At first I thought +this case of stupid badger game--” + +“You aren't going to back out, Monty? Here's a whole gang of crooks +which would give you some sport rounding up, and as for money--” + +“Money is easy, from both sides of a criminal matter. What interests me +is that ghostly telephone call from a house that burned down, and the +caller's knowledge of Number Three. I'm in this case, have no fear of +that.” + +Shirley led his guest to the coat room. + +“I'll get a taxicab, Monty. We'd better see that girl first and then +have a look at the body.” + +The Captain turned to the door, as the attendant helped Monty with his +overcoat. The waiter from the grill-room approached. “Excuse me, sir, +but the gentleman dropped his handkerchief in his chair opposite you.” + +“Thank you, Gordon,” he said, as he faced the servant for an instant. +When he turned again, toward the front hall, the Captain had passed out +of view through the front door. + +Shirley received a surprise when he reached the pavement on Forty-fourth +Street, for Captain Cronin was not in sight. Two club men descended the +steps of the neighboring house. Others strolled along toward the Avenue, +but not a sign of a vehicle of any description could be seen, nor was +there anything suspicious in view. Cronin had disappeared as effectually +as though he had taken a passing Zeppelin! + +“I'm glad this affair will not bore me,” murmured the criminologist, as +he evolved and promptly discarded a dozen vain theories to explain the +disappearance of his companion. + +Twenty minutes were wasted along the block, as he waited for some sight +or sign. Then he decided to go on up to Van Cleft's residence. But, +realizing the probability of “shadow” work upon all who came from the +door of the club, after the curious message on the wire, Shirley did not +propose to expose his hand. Walking leisurely to the Avenue, he hailed +a passing hansom. He directed the driver to carry him to an address on +Central Park West. His shrewdness was not wasted, for as he stepped into +the vehicle, he espied a slinking figure crossing the street diagonally +before him, to disappear into the shadow of an adjacent doorway. This +was the house of Reginald Van Der Voor, as Shirley knew. It was closed +because its master, a social acquaintance of the club man's, was at this +time touring the Orient in his steam yacht. No man should have entered +that doorway. So, as the horse started under the flick of the long whip, +Shirley peered unobserved through the glass window at his side. + +A big machine swung up behind the hansom, at some unseen hail, and +the figure came from the doorway, leaping into the car, as it followed +Shirley up the Avenue, a block or so behind. + +“It is not always so easy to follow, when the leader knows his chase,” + thought Shirley. “I'm glad I'm only a simple club man.” + +The automobile was unmistakably trailing him, as the hansom crossed the +Plaza, then sped through the Park drive, to the address he had given his +driver. + +As Shirley had remembered, this was a large apartment house, in which +one of his bachelor friends lived. He knew the lay of the building well: +next door, with an entrance facing on the side street was another just +like it, and of equal height. + +“Wait for me, here,” said Shirley. “I'll pay you now, but want to go to +an address down town in five minutes.” + +He gave the driver a bill, then entered and told the elevator man to +take him to the ninth floor. + +“There's nobody in, boss,” began the boy. But Shirley shook his head. + +“My friend is expecting me for a little card game, that's why you think +he is out. Just take me up.” + +He handed the negro a quarter, which was complete in its logic. + +As he reached the floor, he waved to the elevator operator. “Go on +down, and don't let any one else come up, for Mr. Greenough doesn't want +company.” + +As the car slid down, Shirley fumbled along the familiar hall to the +iron stairs which led to the roof of the building. Up these he hurried, +thence out upon the roof. It was a matter of only four minutes before +he had crossed to the next apartment building, opened the door of the +roof-entry, found the stairs to the ninth floor, and taken this elevator +to the street. + +He walked out of the building, and turned toward Central Park West, to +slyly observe the entrance of the building where waited the faithful +hansom Jehu. A young man was in conversation with the driver, and the +big automobile could be seen on the other side of the street awaiting +further developments. + +“He has a long vigil there,” laughed Shirley. “Now, for the real +address. I think I lost the hounds for this time.” + +Another vehicle took him through the Park to the darkened mansion of +the Van Clefts'. Here, Shirley's card brought a quick response from the +surprised son of the dead millionaire. + +“Why--why--I'm glad to see you, Mr. Shirley--Who sent you?” he began. + +Shirley registered complete surprise. “Sent me, my dear Van Cleft? Who +should send me? For what? It just happened that I was walking up the +Avenue, and to-morrow night I plan to give a little farewell supper +to Hal Bingley, class of '03, at the club You knew him in College? I +thought you might like to come.” + +“Step in the library,” requested Van Cleft, weakly. “Sit down, Mr. +Shirley--I'm upset to-night.” + +He mopped his brow with a damp handkerchief, and Shirley's big heart +went out to the young chap, as he saw the haggard lines of horror and +grief on his usually pleasant face. + +“What's the trouble, old man? Anything I can do?” + +“My father just died this evening, and I'm in awful trouble--I thought +it was the Coroner, or the police--” he bit his tongue as the last +words escaped him. Shirley put his hand on Van Cleft's shoulder, with an +inspiring firmness. + +“Tell me how I can help. You've had a big shock. Confide in me, and I +pledge you my word, I'll keep it safer than any one you could go to.” + +Van Cleft groped as a drowning man, at this opportunity. He caught +Shirley's hand and wrung it tensely. + +“Sit down. The doctor is still upstairs with mother and sister. When the +Coroner comes, I would like to have you be here as a witness. It's an +ordeal--I'll tell you everything.” + +Shirley listened attentively, without betraying his own knowledge. +Soothing in manner, he questioned the son about any possible enemy of +the murdered man. + +“There's not one I know. Dad is popular--he's been too gay, lately, +but just foolish like a lot of rich men. He wouldn't harm any one. He +inherited his money, you know. Didn't have to crush the working people. +Like me, he's been endeavoring to spend it ever since he was born, but +it comes in too fast from our estates.” + +He looked up apprehensively, at the sympathetic face of his companion. + +“It's very unwise to tell this. I suppose it's a State's prison offence +to deceive about murder. But you understand our position: we can't +afford to let it become gossip. I'll pay this girl anything to go to +Europe or the Antipodes!” + +“I wouldn't do that,” suggested Shirley, thoughtfully. “Let her stay. +You would like to bring the culprit to justice, if it can be done +without dragging your name into it. If he has planned this, he has +executed other schemes. She certainly would not remain the machine if +she were the guilty one. Why not employ a good detective?” + +“I did, but hesitated to tell you. I secured Captain Cronin, of the +Holland Agency. He's managed everything so far--I was too rattled +myself. But, I wonder why he isn't here now? He was to return as soon as +he visited the garage.” + +As Van Cleft spoke, the butler approached with hesitation. + +“Beg pardon, sir. But you are wanted on the telephone, sir.” + +“All right, Hoskins. Connect it with the library instrument.” + +Van Cleft lifted the receiver nervously, and answered in an unsteady +voice. + +“Yes--This is Van Cleft's residence.” + +Silence for a bit, then the wire was busy. + +“What's that? Captain Cronin? What about him? Let me speak to him.” + +Shirley was alert as a cat. Van Cleft was too dazed to understand his +sudden move, as the criminologist caught up the receiver, and placed his +palm for an instant over the mouthpiece. + +“Ask him to say it again--that you didn't understand.” Shirley removed +his hand, and obeyed. Shirley held the receiver to his ear, as the young +man spoke. Then he heard these curious words: “You poor simp, you'd +better get that family doctor of yours to give you some ear medicine, +and stop wasting time with the death certificate. I told you that Cronin +was over in Bellevue Hospital with a fractured skull. Unless you drop +this investigating, you'll get one, too. Ta, ta! Old top!” + +The receiver was hung up quickly at the other end of the line. + +Shirley gave a quick call for “Information,” and after several minutes +learned that the call came from a drug store pay-station in Jersey City! + +The melodious tones were unmistakably those of the speaker who had used +the wire from faraway Brooklyn where the house had been burned down! +It was a human impossibility for any one to have covered the distance +between the two points in this brief time, except in an aeroplane! + +Van Cleft wondered dumbly at his companion's excitement. Shirley caught +up the telephone again. + +“Some one says that Cronin is at Bellevue Hospital, injured. I'll find +out.” + +It was true. Captain Cronin was lying at point of death, the ward nurse +said, in answer to his eager query. At first the ambulance surgeon had +supposed him to be drunk, for a patrolman had pulled him out of a dark +doorway, unconscious. + +“Where was the doorway? This is his son speaking, so tell me all.” + +“Just a minute. Oh! Here is the report slip. He was taken from the +corner of Avenue A and East Eleventh Street. You'd better come down +right away, for he is apt to die tonight. He's only been here ten +minutes.” + +“Has any one else telephoned to find out about him?” + +“No. We didn't even know his name until just as you called up, when we +found his papers and some warrants in a pocketbook. How did you know?” + +But Shirley disconnected curtly, this time. He bowed his head in +thought, and then, with his usual nervous custom, fumbled for a +cigarette. Here was the Captain, whom he had left on Forty-fourth +Street, near Fifth Avenue, a short time before, discovered fully three +miles away. + +And the news telephoned from Jersey City, by the fleeting magic voice +on the wire. Even his iron composure was stirred by this weird +complication. + +“I wonder!” he murmured. He had ample reason to wonder. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE INNOCENT BYSTANDER + + +“Well, Mr. Shirley, your coming here was a Godsend! I don't know what +to do now. The newspapers will get this surely. I depended on Cronin: he +must have been drinking.” + +Shirley shook his head, as he explained, “I know Cronin's reputation, +for I was a police reporter. He is a sterling man. There's foul work +here which extends beyond your father's case. But we are wasting time. +Why don't you introduce me to your physician? Just tell him about +Cronin, and that you have confided in me completely.” + +Van Cleft went upstairs without a word. Unused to any worry, always able +to pay others for the execution of necessary details, this young man was +a victim of the system which had engulfed his unfortunate sire in the +maelstrom of reckless pleasure. + +By his ingenuous adroitness, it may be seen, Shirley was inveigling +himself into the heart of the affair, in his favorite disguise as that +of the “innocent bystander.” His innate dramatic ability assisted him +in maintaining his friendly and almost impersonal role, with a success +which had in the past kept the secret of his system from even the +evildoers themselves. + +“A little investigation of the telephone exchanges during the next day +or two will not be wasted time,” he mused. “I'll get Sam Grindle, their +assistant advertising manager to show me the way the wheels go 'round. +No man can ride a Magic Carpet of Bagdad over the skyscrapers in these +days of shattered folklore.” + +Howard Van Cleft returned with the famous surgeon, Professor MacDonald. +He was elderly, with the broad high forehead, dignity of poise, and +sharpness of glance which bespeaks the successful scientist. His face, +to-night, was chalky and the firm, full mouth twitched with nervousness. +He greeted Shirley abstractedly. The criminologist's manner was that of +friendly anxiety. + +“You are here, sir, as a friend of the family?” + +“Yes. Howard has told me of the terrible mystery of this case. As an +ex-newspaper man I imagine that my influence and friendships may keep +the unpleasant details from the press.” + +“That is good,” sighed the doctor, with relief. “How soon will you do +it?” + +“Now, using this telephone. No, for certain reasons, I had better use an +outside instrument. I will call up men I know on each paper, as though +this were a 'scoop,' so that knowing me, they will be confident that +I tell them the truth as a favor. Such deceit is excusable under the +circumstances. It may eventually bring the murderer to justice.” + +Professor MacDonald winced at the word. He turned toward Van Cleft, on +sudden thought, remarking: “Howard your mother and sister may need the +comfort of your presence. I will chat with your friend until the Coroner +comes.” + +The physician sank into a library chair. The criminologist quietly +awaited his cue. He lit a cigarette and the minutes drifted past with no +word between them. The doctor's gaze lowered to the vellum-bound books +on the carven table, then to the gorgeous pattern of the Kermansha at +his feet. Once more he studied the face of his companion, with the keen, +soul-gripping scrutiny of the skilled physician. As last he arrived at a +definite conclusion. He cleared his throat, and fumbled in his waistcoat +pocket for a cigar. A swiftly struck match in Monty's hand was held +up so promptly to the end of the cigar, that the doctor's lips had not +closed about it. This deftness, simple in itself, did not escape the +observation of the scientist. He smiled for the first time during their +interview. + +“Your reflex nerves are very wide awake for a quiet man. I believe I can +depend upon those nerves, and your quietude. May I ask what occupation +you follow, if any? Most of Howard's friends follow butterflies.” + +“I am one of them, then. Some opera, more theatricals, much art gallery +touring. A little regular reading in my rooms, and there you are! My +great grandfather was too poor a trader to succeed in pelts, so he +invested a little money in rocky pastures around upper Manhattan: this +has kept the clerks of the family bankers busy ever since. I am an +optimistic vagabond, enjoying life in the observation of the rather +ludicrous busyness of other folk. In short, Doctor, I am a corpulent +Hamlet, essentially modern in my cultivation of a joy in life, debating +the eternal question with myself, but lazily leaving it to others to +solve. Therein I am true to my type.” + +“Pardon my bluntness,” observed MacDonald, watching him through +partially closed eyes. “You are not telling the truth. You are a busy +man, with definite work, but that is no affair of mine. I recognize in +you a different calibre from that of these rich young idlers in Howard's +class. I am going to take you into my confidence, for you understand the +need for secrecy, and will surely help in every way--noblesse oblige. +This man Cronin, the detective, was rather crude.” + +“He is honest and dependable,” replied Shirley, loyally. + +“Yes, but I wonder why professional detectives are so primitive. They +wear their calling cards and their business shingles on their figures +and faces. Surely the crooks must know them all personally. I read +detective stories, in rest moments, and every one of the sleuths lives +in some well-known apartment, or on a prominent street. Some day we +may read of one who is truly in secret service, but not until after his +death notice. But there, I am talking to quiet my own nerves a bit,--now +we will get to cases.” + +The doctor dropped his cigar into the bronze tray on the table, leaning +forward with intense earnestness, as he continued. + +“This, Mr. Shirley, is the third murder of the sort within a week. +Wellington Serral, the wealthy broker, came to a sudden death in a +private dining room last Monday, in the company of a young show girl. +He was a patient of mine, and I signed the death certificate as +heart failure, to save the honorable family name for his two orphaned +daughters. + +“Herbert de Cleyster, the railroad magnate, died similarly in a taxicab +on Thursday. He was also one of my patients. There, too, was concerned +another of these wretched chorus girls. To-night the fatal number of the +triad was consummated in this cycle of crime. To maintain my loyalty +to my patients I have risked my professional reputation. Have I done +wrong?” + +“No! The criminal shall be brought to justice,” replied Shirley in a +voice vibrant with a profound determination which was not lost upon his +companion. + +“Are you powerful enough to bring this about, without disgracing me +or betraying this sordid tragedy to the morbid scandal-rakers of the +papers?” + +“I will devote every waking hour to it. But, like you, my efforts must +remain entirely secret. I vow to find this man before I sleep again!” + +“You are determined--yet it cannot be one single man. It must be an +organized gang, for all the crimes have been so strangely similar, +occurring to three men who are friends, and entrez nous, notorious for +their peccadilloes. The girls must be in the vicious circle, and ably +assisted. But there is one thing I forgot to tell you, which you forgot +to ask.” + +“And this is?” + +“How they died. It was by some curious method of sudden arterial +stoppage. Old as they were, some fiendish trick was employed so +skilfully that the result was actual heart failure. There was no trace +of drugs in lungs or blood. On each man's breast, beneath the sternum +bone I found a dull, barely discernible bruise mark, which I later +removed by a simple massage of the spot!” + +Shirley closed his eyes, and passed his hand over his own chest--along +the armpits--behind his ears--he seemed to be mentally enumerating some +list of nerve centers. The physician observed him curiously. + +“I have it, doctor! The sen-si-yao!” + +“What do you mean?” + +“The most powerful and secret of all the death-strokes of the Japanese +art of jiu-jitsu fighting. I paid two thousand dollars to learn the +course from a visiting instructor when I was in college. It was worth it +for this one occasion.” + +Shirley arose to his feet, and approached the other, touching his +shoulder. + +“Stand up, if you please. Let me ask if this was the location of the +mark?” + +The physician, interested in this new professional phase, readily +obeyed. One quick movement of Shirley's muscular hand, the thumb oddly +twisted and stiffened, and a sudden jab in the doctor's abdomen made +that gentleman gasp with pain. Shirley's expression was triumphant, but +the professor regarded him with an expression of terror. + +“Oh! Ugh!--What-did-you-do-to me?” he murmured thickly, when he was at +last able to speak. + +“Merely demonstrated the beginning of the death punch which I named. +That pressure if continued for half a minute would have been fatal.” + +“I wish you would teach me that,” was the physician's natural request, +as he nodded with a wry face. + +“Impossible, my dear sir, for I learned it, according to the Oriental +custom under the most sacred obligations of secrecy. One must advance +through the whole course, by initiatory degrees, before learning the +final mysteries of the samurais. Now, we have a working hypothesis. The +girls could never have accomplished this. One man and one alone must +have killed the three, although doubtless with confederates. Yamashino +assured me that there were only six men in this country who knew it +beside myself. We must find an Orientalist!” + +Shirley paced the floor, but his meditations were interrupted by the +arrival of the Coroner and his physician. Van Cleft hurried into the +room with them, to present the doctor, who exchanged a formal greeting +with the men he had met twice before that week. + +“A sad affair, Professor,” observed the Coroner nervously, drinking in +with profound respect the magnificent surroundings which symbolized +the great wealth of which he secretly hoped to gain a tithing. “I trust +that, as usual, in such cases, I may suggest an undertaker?” + +“Why--talk about that at once, sir?” asked Howard with a shudder. + +The physician, familiar with the subtleties of coroners, gently placed +an arm about the young man's shoulder. He nodded, understandingly, to +the Coroner, as he turned toward Shirley. + +“I must be going now,” the latter interposed. “Just a word with you, +Howard, that I may send a message to your mother and sister.” + +The physician led away the two officials as Shirley continued: “I must +go to see Cronin--deserted there like a run-over mongrel on the street. +Can I leave this house by the rear, so that none shall know of my +assistance in the case, or follow me to the hospital? If you can secure +an old hat and coat, I will leave my own, with my stick, to get them +some other time.” + +“I will get some from the butler, if you wait just a moment. You can +leave by the rear yard, if you don't mind climbing a high board fence.” + +Van Cleft hurried downstairs, in a few minutes, bearing a weather-beaten +overcoat and an English cap, which Shirley drew down over his ears. With +the coat on, he looked very unlike the well-groomed club man who had +entered. Unseen by Van Cleft he shifted an automatic revolver into the +coat pocket from the discarded garment. + +“Now, Mr. Shirley, come this way. Follow the rear area-way, across to +the next yard, where after another climb you find a vacant lot where the +Schuylers are preparing to erect their new city house. Will you attend +to everything?” + +“Everything. I'll start sooner than you expect.” + +Truly he did! For no sooner had he descended the second fence into the +empty lot than a stinging blow sent him at full length on the rocky +ground, where the excavations were already being started. Two men +pounced upon him in a twinkling--only his great strength, acquired +through the football years, saved him from immediate defeat. His +head throbbed, and he was dizzy as he caught the wrist of the nearest +assailant with a quick twist which resulted in a sudden, sickening +crunch. The man groaned in agony, but his companion kicked with +heavy-shod feet at the prostrate man. Shirley's left hand duplicated +the vice-like grip upon the ankle of the standing assailant, and his +deftness caused another tendon strain! Both men toppled to the ground, +now, and before they realized it Shirley had reversed the advantage. +His automatic emphasized his superiority of tactics. He understood their +silence, broken only by muted groans: they feared the police, even as +did he, although for different reasons. He “frisked” the man nearest him +upon the ground, and captured deftly the rascal's weapon: then he sprang +up covering the twain. + +“Get up! Youse guys is poachin' in de wrong district--dis belongs to de +Muggins gang. I'll fix youse guys fer buttin' in. Up, dere!” His hands +went into his coat pockets, but the men knew that they were still +pointing at them, the gunman's “cover” as it is called. They staggered +sullenly to their feet. He beckoned with his head, toward the front of +the lot. They followed the silent instructions, one limping while his +mate wrung the injured wrist in agony. + +Directly before the lot stood a throbbing, empty automobile. Shirley +decided to take another car--he could not guard them and drive at the +same time. + +“Down to Fift' Avnoo,” he ordered. “I got two guns--not a woid +from youse!” His erstwhile amiable physiognomy, now gnarled into an +unrecognizable mask of low villainy bespoke his desperate earnestness. +The men obeyed. This was apparently a gangster, of gangsters--their fear +of the dire vengeance of a rival organization of cut-throats instilled +an obedience more humble than any other threats. + +Toward the Park side they advance, one leaning heavily upon the other. +Shirley, his broad shoulders hunched up; with the collar drawn high +about his neck, the murderous looking cap down over his eyes, followed +them doggedly. + +A big limousine was speeding down the Avenue from some homing theater +party. Shirley hailed it with an authoritive yell which caused the +chauffeur to put on a quick brake. + +“Git out dere,--no gun play. Up inter dat car!” he added, as they +approached the machine. + +“Say, what you drivin' at?” cried the driver, queruously. “Is this a +hold-up?” It was a puzzling moment, but the criminologist's calm bravado +saved the situation: as luck would have it no policemen were in sight, +to spoil the maneuver. + +“No,” and he assumed a more natural voice and dialect. “I'm a detective. +These men were just house-breaking, and I got them. There's twenty-five +dollars in it for you, if you take us down to the Holland Detective +Agency, in ten minutes.” + +“He's kiddin' ye, feller,” snapped out one man. + +“Don't fall fen him, yen boob!” sung out the other. + +But Shirley's automatic now appeared outside the coat pocket. The +chauffeur realized that here was serious gaming. With his left hand +Shirley jerked out the ever ready police card and fire badge, which +seemed official enough to satisfy the driver. + +“Quick now, or I'll run you in, too, for refusing to obey an officer. +You men climb into that back seat. Driver, beat it now to Thirty-nine +West Forty Street, if you need that twenty-five dollars. I'll sit with +them. I don't want any interference so I can come back and nab the rest +of their gang.” + +His authoritative manner convinced this new ally, and he climbed into +the car, facing his prisoners, with the two weapons held down below the +level of the windows. Pedestrians and other motorists little recked what +strange cargo was borne as the car raced down the broad thoroughfare. + +In nine minutes they drew up before the Holland Agency, a darkened, +brown front house of ancient architecture. The chauffeur sprang out to +swing back the door. + +“Go up the steps, and tell the doorman that Captain Cronin wants two men +to bring down their guns and handcuffs and get two prisoners. Quick!” + +The street was not empty, even at this hour. Yet the passersby did not +realize the grim drama enacted inside the waiting machine. Hours seemed +to pass before Cronin's men returned with the driver, as much surprised +by the three strange faces within the machine, as he had been. + +“You take these men upstairs and keep them locked up,” bluntly commanded +the criminologist. “They're nabbed on the new case of the Captain's +which started to-night, I'm going over to Bellevue to see him.” His +voice was still disguised, his features twisted even yet. + +The men gave him a curious glance, and then obeyed. As they disappeared +behind the heavy wooden door, Shirley stepped into a dark hallway, close +by. He lit a wax match to give him light for the choosing of the right +amount, from the roll of bills which he drew forth. The chauffeur +whistled with surprise at the size of the denominations. The twenty-five +were handed over. + +“Thanks very much, my friend,” and the face unsnarled itself, into the +amiable lines of the normal. The voice was agreeable and smooth, which +surprised the man the more. “You took me out of a ticklish situation +tonight. I don't want any mere policemen to spoil my little game. Please +oil up your forgettery with these, and then--forget!” + +“Say, gov'nor,” retorted the driver, as he put the money into the band +of his leather cap. “I ain't seen so much real change since my boss got +stung on the war. I ain't so certain but what you was the gink robbin' +that house, at that. But that's them guys funeral if you beat 'em to +it. Good-night--much obliged. But I got to slip it to you, gov'nor--you +ain't none of them Central Office flat-feet, sure 'nuff! If you are a +detective, you're some fly cop!” + + + + +CHAPTER IV. A SCIENTIFIC NOVELTY + + +In a private ward room at Bellevue Hospital, Captain Cronin was just +returning to memory of himself and things that had been. Shirley arrived +at his cot-side as he was being propped up more comfortably. The older +man's face broke into game smiles, as the criminologist took the chair +provided by the pretty nurse. + +“Thanks, I'll have a little chat with my friend, if you don't think it +will do him any harm.” + +“He is better now, sir. We feared he was fatally injured when they +brought him in. I'll be outside in the corridor if you need anything.” + +She left not without an admiring look at the big chap, wondering why he +wore such disreputable superstructure with patent leather pumps and +silk hose showing below the ragged overcoat. Strange sights come to +hospitals, curiosity frequently leading to unprofitable knowledge: so +she was silently discreet. Shirley's garb was not unobserved by the +detective chief. Monty laughed reminiscently at the questioning glance. + +“These are my working clothes--a fine combination. I nabbed two of the +gang. But what became of you?” + +“Outside that club door, I wanted to save time for us both. I took +the first taxi in sight. Before I could even call out to you, the door +slammed on me, the shades flopped down, the car started up--the next +thing I knew this here nurse was sticking a spoon in my mouth, a-saying: +'Take this--it's fine for what ails you!'” + +“I wonder if it could have been the same machine they left at Van +Cleft's? I will tell you how things progressed.” So he did, leaving +out only the confidence of Professor MacDonald. The Captain became +feverishly excited, until Shirley abjured him to beware of a relapse. +“You must be calm, for the next twenty-four hours: there will be much +for you to do, even then. Meanwhile, let me call up your agency; then +you give them instructions over this table telephone to let Howard Van +Cleft interview the little chorus girl, with his friend. I'll be the +friend.” + +“I'm afraid I'm going to be snowed under in this case, Monty. The finest +job I've had these dozen years. But you're square, and will do all you +can.” + +“Old friend, I'll do what I can to make Van Cleft and the newspapers +sure that you are the most wonderful sleuth inside or outside the public +library. Here's your office--speak up. Let me lift you.” + +“Hello Pat!” called Cronin, as his superintendent came to the 'phone. “I +am detained at Bellevue, so that I can't be there when Van Cleft comes +down. Let him Third Degree that little Jane from the garage. Keep them +two men apart, too--oh, that's all right, the fellow is a friend of mine +on the 'Frisco police force. He won't butt in.” Silence for a moment, +then: “Oh, shucks, let 'em yowl! They've got more than kidnapping to +worry about for the next twenty-five years.” + +He hung up the receiver, sinking back on his pillows wan from the +strain. Monty handed him a glass of water, and adjusted the bandages +with a hand as tender as a woman's. He lifted the instrument again. + +“You are sterling, twenty-two carat and a yard wide, Captain! Now, get +to sleep while I find out who the ring-master is. I've sworn to keep +awake until I do. I think it well to telephone Van Cleft, and arrange +for a better get-a-way for us both.” + +He was soon talking with the son of the murdered man. “Meet me down at +the Vanderbilt Hotel--ask for Mr. Hepburn's room, and send up the name +of Williams. See you in an hour. Good-bye.” + +Hanging up the receiver, he turned toward the door, after a friendly pat +on Cronin's shoulder. The bell rang, and the Captain reached for it, to +sink back exhausted upon the bed. Shirley answered, to be greeted by a +pleasant feminine voice. + +“Is this Captain Cronin?” + +Instantly the criminologist replied affirmatively, suiting his tones as +best he could to the gruff voice of the detective chief, with a wink at +that worthy. + +“I just called up, Captain, to ask about you--Oh, you don't recognize my +voice. I'm Miss Wilberforce, private secretary to Mr. Van Cleft. Has any +one been to see you yet? I understand that you are very busy, and have +already missed two other good cases, this one being the THIRD! Well, +don't hurry, Captain. You may get the rest to come--if you live long +enough. Good-bye!” + +Shirley looked at Cronin, startled. Another mention of the mystic +number. He called for information about the origin of the call. + +“Lordee, son! Are they at it again?” asked Cronin in disgust. + +“Yes--overdoing it. One thing is clear, that whoever is behind this +telephone trickery is very clever, and very conceited over that +cleverness. It may be a costly vanity. Yes, information?” + +“The call was from Rector 2190-D. The American Sunday School +Organization, sir--It doesn't answer now; the office must be closed.” + +Shirley put the instrument down, with a smile on his pursed lips. He +waved a good natured farewell to his friend, as he drew the cap down +over his eyes. + +“Look a little happier, Captain. I'll send down some fruit and a special +vintage from our club which has bottled up in it the sunlight of a +dozen years in Southern France. I hope they keep the telephone wires +busy--they may tangle themselves up in their own spider-web!” + +Leaving the hospital, he hurried to the hotel. One of his secret +idiosyncracies was a custom of “living around” at a number of hotels, +under aliases. Maintaining pleasant suites in each, he kept full +supplies of linen and garments, while effectively blotting out his own +identity for “doubling” work. + +He was known as “Mr. Hepburn” here, and entering the side door he was +subjected to the curious gaze of only one servant, the operator of the +small elevator. Once in the shelter of his quarters he rummaged through +some scrap-books for data--he found it in a Sunday feature story +published a month before in a semi-theatrical paper. It described with +rollicking sarcasm, a gay “millionaire” party which had been given in +Rector's private dining rooms. Among the ridiculed hosts were Van Cleft, +Wellington Serral and Herbert De Cleyster! Here, in some elusive manner, +ran the skein of truth which if followed would lead to the solution of +mystery. He must carve out of this mass of pregnant clues the essentials +upon which to act, as the sculptor chisels the marble of a huge block to +expose the figure of his inspiration, encased there all the time! + +“To find out the source of their golden-haired nymphs for this +merry-merry, that is the question! Some stage doorkeeper might be +persuaded to unburden what soul he has left!” + +He jotted in his memorandum book the names of the other eight wealthy +men who were pilloried by the journalist. The younger men, +Shirley felt sure, were of that peculiarly Manhattanse type of +hanger-on--well-groomed, happy-go-hellward youths who danced, laughed +and drank well,--so essential to the philanderings of these rich old +Harlequins and their gilded Columbines. As he scribbled, the telephone +of the room tinkled its summons. + +He started toward it: then his invaluable intuition prompted him to +walk into the adjoining room, where another instrument stood on a small +table, handy to the bed. Only two people could possibly know he was +there. Van Cleft could not have arrived, as yet. The other bell jingled +impatiently, but Shirley finally heard the voice of the switch-board +girl. + +“I'm trying to get you on the other wire, sir. There's a call.” + +“Don't connect me,” he hurriedly ordered, “except to open the switch, so +I may listen. If I hang up without a word, tell the party I will be back +in twenty minutes.” + +With a hotel telephone girl tact is more important than even the +knowledge of wire-knitting. It was the woman's voice which he had heard +at the hospital. Captain Cronin was anxious to speak to Mr. Williams, +who was calling on Mr. Hepburn! With the biggest jolt of this day of +surprises Shirley disconnected and whistled. Again he laughed--with that +grim chuckle which was so characteristic of his supreme battling mood! +They had found the trail even quicker than he had expected. Fortunate +it was that he had not mentioned his own name in telephoning from +the hospital to Howard. Not a wire was safe from these mysterious +eaves-droppers now. He hurried into a business suit, and left the hotel, +to walk over Thirty-fourth Street to the studio of his friend, Hammond +Bell. Here he was admitted, to find the portrait-painter finishing a +solitary chafing-dish supper. + +“Delighted, Monty! Join me in the encore on this creamed chicken and +mushrooms!” + +“Too rich for my primitive blood, Hammond. I'm in a hurry to get a +favor.” + +“I've received enough at your hands--say the word.” + +“Simply this: I want to experiment with sound waves. I remembered that +once in a while some of these wild Bohemian friends of yours warbled +post-impressionist love-songs into your phonograph. It stood the strain, +and so must be a good one. It is too late now to get one in a shop; will +you lend me the whole outfit, with the recording attachment as well, for +to-night and to-morrow?” + +“The easiest thing you know. Let's slide it into this grip--you can +carry the horn.” + +Three minutes later Shirley made his exit, and soon was shaking hands +with Van Cleft in his own room at the hotel. He sketched his idea +hurriedly, as he adjusted the instrument on the dressing-table near the +telephone. + +“When the call comes, be sure to say: 'Get closer, I can't hear you.' +That's the method, and it's so simple it is almost silly.” They were +barely ready when the bell warned them. At Van Cleft's reply, when the +call for “Mr. Williams” Shirley pushed the horn close to the telephone +receiver. Van Cleft twisted it, so as to give the best advantage, and +demanded that the speaker come closer to the 'phone. + +“Can you hear me now?” asked the feminine voice. “Do you hear me now?” + +“No, speak louder. This is Mr. Williams. Speak up. I can't understand +you.” The voice was petulant and so distinct that even Shirley could +hear it, as he knelt by the side of the phonograph. Again Van Cleft +insisted on his deafness. There was the suggestion of a break in the +voice which brought to Shirley's eyes the sparkle of a presentiment of +success. At last Van Cleft admitted that he could hear. + +“Well, you fool, I've a message for your friend Mr. Van Cleft.” + +“Which one?” was the innocent inquiry, as he forgot for an instant that +now he was the sole bearer of that name. + +“The one that's left. Tell him there will be none left if he continues +this gum-shoe work. He had better let well enough alone, and let that +little girl get out of town as soon as possible. The papers will go +crazy over a scandal like this, and some one is apt to grab Van Cleft. +That's all. Good-bye!” + +Silently Shirley shut off the lever of the machine, to catch up the +receiver. As before his endeavor to locate the call resulted in a new +address: this time in the Bronx! + +“Ah, the lady leaps from the business district to the Bronx in half an +hour. That is what I call some traveling.” + +Van Cleft studied him with open mouth, as he withdrew the phonograph +record, coating it with the preservative to make the tiny lines +permanent. + +“In the name of common sense, who was that? And what's this phonograph +game?” he demanded. + +“The second question may answer the first before sunrise, unless I am +badly mistaken. I have heard an old adage which declares that if you +give a man long enough rope he will hang himself. My new application is +that you let him talk enough he is apt to sing his own swan song, for a +farewell perch on the electric chair at Sing Sing!” + +Then he lit a cigarette and packed up the phonograph. + + + + +CHAPTER V. THE MISBEHAVIOR OF THE 'PHONE + + +Still befuddled by the unusual events of the day, Howard Van Cleft was +unable to delight in a theoretical discovery. Personal fear began to +manifest itself. + +“Mr. Shirley, you're going at this too strong. We know the guilty +party--this miserable girl in the machine. We want to hush it up and let +things go at that.” + +“We're hushing it, aren't we?” demanded Shirley, as he placed the record +in the grip. “Don't you see the wisdom of knowing who may systematically +blackmail you after secrecy is obtained. This is a matter of the future, +as well as the present.” + +“But I don't want to lose my own life--I am young, with life before me, +and I want to let well enough alone, after these threats.” + +“I am afraid that you have a yellow streak.” His lip curled as he +studied the pallid features of the heir to the Van Cleft millions. +Fearless himself, he could still understand the tremors of this +care-free butterfly: yet he knew he must crush the dangerous thoughts +which were developing. “If you mistrust me, hustle for yourself. You +have the death-certificate, the services will be over in a few days, and +then you will have enough money to live on your father's yacht or terra +firma for the rest of your life, in the China Sea, or India, as far away +from Broadway chorus girls as you want. That might be safe.” + +He gazed out of the window, toward the twinkling lights far away across +the East River. His sarcasm made Van Cleft wince as though from a whip +lash. The latter mopped his forehead and tried to steady his voice, as +he replied with all humility. + +“You're a brick, and I don't mean to offend you. Today has been +terrible, you know: this tornado has swept me from my moorings. I don't +know where to turn.” + +“I am thoughtless,” and Shirley's warm hand grasped the flaccid fingers +of the young man. “Forgive me for letting my interest run away with my +sympathies. I'm thinking of the future, more than mere protection from +newspaper scandal. This crime is so ingenious that I believe it has a +more powerful motive than mere robbery. You are now at the head of a +great house of finance and society. You must guard your mother and your +sister, and those yet to come. A deadly snake is writhing its slimy +trail somewhere: here--there--'round about us! Who knows where it will +strike next? Who knows how far that blow may reach--even unto China, or +wherever you run?” + +He hesitated, studying the effect upon Van Cleft, who dropped limply +into a chair, his eyes dark with terror. The psychological ruse had won. +Selfish cowardice, which temporarily threatened to ruin his campaign, +now gave way to the instinct of a fighting defense. + +“There, Van Cleft, it is ghastly. You have the significance now: we must +scotch the snake. That girl is over at the Holland Agency, and we should +see her at once, to learn what she knows. Cronin has arranged for my +coming with you, so introduce me under my real name. + +“Wait here fifteen minutes after I leave, so that I may get the +phonograph in readiness, for you will undoubtedly be shadowed, and that +may mean another telephone call. You were not a coward in college--I do +not believe you are one now!” + +Van Cleft straightened up proudly. + +“No, I will fight them with all I have. But why these phonograph +records: isn't one enough?” + +“No, I want autographs of all the voices. I will go now. Don't hurry in +following me. Do not fear to let any shadowers see you--it will help us +along.” + +Before many minutes he had been admitted to the corridor of the Holland +Agency by a sharp-nosed individual who regarded him with suspicion. The +operatives were undoubtedly expecting trouble from all quarters, for +three other large men of the “bull” type, heavy-jowled, ponderous men, +surrounded him as he presented his card. + +“I am the friend of Howard Van Cleft, about whom Captain Cronin +telephoned you from Bellevue. I am to help him interview the girl: may I +wait until he arrives?” + +“Oh, you're wise to the case? Sure then, come into the reception room on +the right. What's that in your grip?” asked the apparent leader of the +men. + +“Just an idea of Van Cleft's,” said Shirley, as he followed into the +adjoining compartment. “It's a phonograph. Have you received any phoney +'phone calls to-night? Queer ones that you didn't expect and couldn't +explain? Van Cleft has, and he decided to take records of them on this +machine.” + +The superintendent nodded. Shirley opened the grip and drew out the +instrument, and made ready on the small table, near which was the desk +telephone. + +“Let's get this in readiness then, and if you get any calls have them +switched up to this instrument, so that when you talk, you can hold the +receiver handy to the horn.” + +“Young feller, I think you must know more about this business than +you've a right to. Just keep your hands above the table--I think I'll +frisk you!” + +“No need,” snapped Shirley with a smile in his eyes, and the automatic +revolver was drawn and covering the detective before he could reach +forward. “But I have no designs on you. You will have to work quicker +than that with some people in this case.” + +He slid the weapon across the table to the other who snatched it +anxiously. + +“If a call comes and you don't recognize the voice at once, please ask +the party to come closer to the 'phone, to speak louder--listen, there +is the bell now! Get it connected here at once!” + +The surprised superintendent, fearing that after all he might miss +some good lead, yielded to his professional curiosity against his +professional prejudices. He bawled down the hall. + +“Switch on up here, Mike. I'll talk.” He caught up the instrument, as +Shirley dropped to his knees beside him, to swing the horn into place. + +“What's that?” he shouted over the wire. “Yes, shure it is--What's that +you say?--I don't get you, cull--You want to speak to the girl?--What +girl?--Talk louder. Hire a hall!--Say, I ain't no mind reader! Speak +up.” + +Over the instrument came the phrase once more: “Can you hear me now?” + +It was the man's voice! Shirley was exultant. + +“Yes, I hear you. What do you want?” + +“I want to call for my sister, if you're going to let her go. I want--” + +An inspiration prompted Shirley to press down the prongs of the +receiver. The connection was stopped, and the superintendent turned upon +him angrily. + +“You spoiled that, you nut! We was just about to find out who her +brother was--say, who are you, anyway?” + +“There, don't you worry. That makes another call certain. Don't you see? +That's what I'm playing for. But here comes Van Cleft, who will tell you +I am all right.” + +The millionaire entered the hallway before any serious altercation could +arise. He greeted Shirley warmly and introduced him to Pat Cleary. The +man was mollified. + +“Well, I'm Captain Cronin's right bower, and I thinks as how this guy +is the joker of the deck trying to make a dirty deuce out of me. But, +if you want to see the girl, she's right upstairs. His work was a little +speedy on first acquaintance. Nick, keep your eyes on this machine, for +we may get another call on this floor--This way gentlemen. Watch your +step, for the hallway's dark.” + +The girl was imprisoned in a windowless room on the second floor. As the +door opened, Shirley beheld a pitiful sight. Attired in the finery of +the Rialto, she lay prone upon a couch in the center of the dingy room, +sobbing hysterically. Her blonde hair was disheveled, her features wan +and distorted from her paroxysms of fear and grief. Like a frightened +animal, she sprang to her feet as they entered the room, retreating +to the wall, her trembling hands spread as though to brace her from +falling. + +“I didn't do it! I swear! The old fool was soused and I don't know what +was the matter with me. But I didn't kill any one in the world!” + +“There, sit down, little girl, and don't get frightened. This gentleman +and I have come to learn the truth--not to punish you for something you +didn't do. Start with the beginning and tell all you remember.” + +Shirley's gentle manner was so unexpected, his voice so inspiring that +she relaxed, sinking to the floor, as Shirley caught her limp girlish +form in his arms. He placed her on the couch again, and she regained +her composure under his calm urging. Little by little she visualized +the details of the gruesome evening and narrated them under the magnetic +cross-questions of the criminologist. + +She had met the elder Van Cleft in the tea-room of a Broadway hostelry, +by appointment made the evening before at Pinkie Taylor's birthday +party. After several drinks together they took a taxicab to ride uptown +to a little chop house. Did she see any one she knew in the tea-room? Of +course, several of the fellows and girls whom she couldn't remember just +now, buzzed about, for Van Cleft was a liberal entertainer around the +youngsters. She had five varieties of cocktails in succession, and +she became dizzy. In the taxicab she became dizzier and when next she +remembered anything definite she was sitting on the stool in the garage +where she had been arrested. That was all. As she reached this point +there came a knock on the door with a call for Van Cleft. + +“You Van's son!” she screamed. Then she fainted, while Shirley caught +her, calling an assistant to care for her, as he followed Van Cleft +downstairs to answer the telephone. “You know your cues?” + +The millionaire nodded, as with trembling fingers he caught up +the instrument and knelt on the bare floor to hold it close to the +phonograph, which Shirley was engineering, with a fresh record in place. + +“Hello! Hello, there, I say. Hello!” + +Shirley strained his ears, to hear this time a rough, wheezy voice which +caused the two men to exchange startled glances, as it proceeded: “Is +this you, Howard, my boy?” + +“What do you want? I can't hear you. The telephone is buzzing. Louder +please!” + +Shirley nodded approbation, as the machine ran along merrily. + +“Now, can you hear me. Ahem! Can you hear me now? Is this Howard Van +Cleft?” + +“Yes, go ahead, but louder still.” + +“Now, can you hear me? This is your father's dearest friend, +Howard,--this is William Grimsby speaking. I am fearfully distressed and +shocked to learn of his death, my poor boy. And Howard, I am grieved +to learn that there is some little scandal about it. As your father's +confidential adviser, I urge you to hush it up at all cost. I was told +at your home just now by one of the servants that you had gone to this +vulgar detective agency.” + +Here Shirley shut off the phonograph, addressing Van Cleft with his hand +over the mouthpiece of the telephone for the minute. + +“Keep on talking until I return. Get his advice about flowers and +everything else you can think of.” + +Then he ran from the room, into the hallway, out of the door, and down +the stoop to Fortieth Street. He looked about uncertainly, then espied +across the way a tailor shop, where the light of the late workman still +burned. Monty hurried thither and asked the use of the telephone upon +the wall. + +“Shuair, mister, but it will cost you a dime, for I have to pay the gas +and the rent.” + +From the telephone directory he obtained the address and number of +William Grimsby, the banker. He received an answer promptly. The +servant, after learning his name promised to call the master. A gruff +voice answered soon. Mr. Grimsby declared that he had been reading in +his library for the last two hours, undisturbed by any telephone calls. +Shirley expressed a doubt. + +“How dare you doubt my word, sir. The telephone is in my reception room +where I heard it ring just now, for the first time. What do you want?” + +“An interview with you to-morrow morning at nine on a life and death +matter. I can merely remind you, sir, that two of your friends, +Wellington Serral and Herbert de Cleyster have met mysterious deaths +during the past week. Mr. Van Cleft died of heart failure to-night. +I will be there at nine. As you value your own life do not leave your +residence or even answer any telephone messages again until I see you.” + +“Well, I'll be--” Shirley disconnected, before the verb was reached. He +tossed the coin to the tailor, and speedily returned to the waiting room +where he signaled Van Cleft to end the conversation. + +“Quick now, find out what wire called you up.” The answer was “William +Grimsby, 97 Fifth Avenue.” + +“You had the wrong tip that time, Mr. Shirley,” said Van Cleft. “But how +could he have found out where I was, for none of the servants know about +Captain Cronin, or even my family that I was coming down here. He gave +me some good advice however. I want to pay the hush money and end it all +forever.” + +Shirley had preserved the record and put it away with the others in the +grip. Now he lit a cigarette and puffed several rings of smoke before +answering. + +“Van, it must be wonderful to be twins.” + +“This is no night for joking,” petulantly, observed the nervous young +man. “I want the girl silenced--” + +“She won't open her mouth after I tell her some things. It may entertain +you to know, Van, that while you were getting such good advice from Mr. +Grimsby on this wire, I was talking to the real Mr. Grimsby on his own +wire: he said I was his first caller in more than an hour. So, I gave +him some good advice, which wouldn't interest you. After this don't +believe what the telephone tells.” + +“Who was I speaking with?” + +“The most brilliant criminal it has ever been my pleasure to run +across,” and his eyes snapped with joy, the huntsman instinct rising to +the surface at last, “I will call him the voice until I know his better +name. He is the most scientific crook of the age.” + +“What do you know about criminals?” was the incredulous question. + +“I'll know a hundred times as much as I do now, when I know all about +this one, Van. You'd better have Cleary send an armed guard along with +you, and get home for a good rest. Get a man who can drive a car, and +bring back the empty auto three houses away from your residence: it will +bear looking into! I'm going up to have a revival meeting with that girl +now, for I am convinced that she is not a whit more implicated in the +conception or execution of this crime than you are. Good-night.” + +Van Cleft left the house, with a pitying shake of the head. He was +not quite certain that he had done wisely, after all, in bringing his +eccentric friend into the affair. He little reckoned how much more +peculiarly Montague Shirley was to act for the remainder of the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. AN EXPERIMENT WITH THE “MOVIES” + + +The cross-examination of Polly Marion resulted in little advantage. She +had known of the sudden departure of two other songbirds, well equipped +with funds for the land of Somewhere Else. Their absence had been the +subject of some quiet jesting among the dragon flies who flitted over +the pond of pleasure. A suggestion, from some unrecalled source, that +their disappearance had been connected with the deaths of the two +aged suitors was revitalized in her memory by the words of the elderly +detective. Familiar with the strange life of this jeweled half-world +Shirley's keenness brought forth nothing to convince him that the girl +had been more culpable than in the following of her class, known to the +initiate as the “gentle art of gold digging.” + +“Polly, go home now, and stay away from these parties: that's my honest +advice, if you want to be on the 'outside looking in,' when some one is +sent to prison for this. I am in favor of hushing up this affair, and +want to ease it up for you. Are you wise?” + +Polly was wise, beyond her years. Her equipoise was regained, and with a +coquettish interest in this handsome interviewer--such girls always have +an eye for future business--he returned to her theatrical lodging +house, in which at least dwelt her wardrobe and makeup box when she was +“trouping” in some spangled chorus. Of recent months she had not been +subjected to the Hurculean rigors of bearing the spear, thanks to the +gratuities of the open-handed Van Cleft, Senior. She pleaded to remain +out of the white lights, meaning it as she spoke. But Shirley wisely +felt that the butterfly would emerge from the chrysalis, shortly, to +flutter into certain gardens where he would fain cull rare blossoms! Pat +Cleary deputized a “shadow” to diarize her exits and entrances. + +“The hooks are cleaned, with fresh bait upon them,” soliloquized +Shirley, as he went down the dark stoop. “Now for a little laboratory +work on the wherefore of the why!” + +Although long after midnight, he numbered among his acquaintanceship, +many whom he could find far from Slumber-land. His steps led to the +apartment of a certain theatrical manager, whom he found engaged in +a lively tournament of the chips, jousting with two leading men, one +playwright, a composer and a merchant prince. The latter, of course, was +winning. The host, contributing both chips and bottled cheer, was far +from optimistic until the arrival of the club man. + +“A live one abaft the mizzen!” exclaimed Dick Holloway, “Here's Shirley +sent by Heaven to join us. After all I hope to pay my next month's +rent.” + +Noisily welcomed by the victims of mercantile prowess, he apologetically +declined to flirt with Dame Fortune, pleading a business purpose. + +“Business, Monty! By the shade of Shakspeare! I never knew you to look +at business, except to prevent it running you down like a Fourth Avenue +mail bus.” + +“It is in the interest of science,” said Shirley, drawing the manager +aside, “an experiment--” + +“Fudge on science. You interrupt a game at this time of night!” + +“But it means money. I am willing to pay.” + +“Ah, Monty, money should never come between friends, and so I retract: +with three failures this season, because the public doesn't appreciate +art.” + +“It's about moving pictures. I know that you have floated a syndicate +for big productions. Do you work night and day?” + +“An investment? Heaven bless you! Come into my bedroom and we'll arrange +things of course, we work at night. Just this minute they are producing +the 'Bartered Bride' in six reels and eighteen thrills a foot. A +magnificently equipped studio, the public yelling for more how much have +you?” + +“Not so fast, Dick. It's merely some special work tonight, what you +would call trick photography. I need a photographer, some lights, a +little space, a microscopic lens and the complete developing during the +night. And, I'll pay cash, as I have done with some suspicious poker +losses in this temple of the muses on bygone evenings. Which, I may +urge with gentle sarcasm is more than I have frequently received at your +hands.” + +“Touche!” laughed Holloway. “I'll write a note to the studio +manager--he's there now, and will do what you want. You could have your +picture completed by morning with a little financial coaxing applied in +the right place. Come to the library table. Go on with the game, boys, +it will save me a little.” + +The potentate of dry goods was drawing in his winnings, as Shirley +leaned over Holloway's shoulder to dictate the missive. Suddenly a +revolver shot rang out from the window, and a bullet crashed into the +wall behind Shirley's head. + +His hand, idly dropped into his overcoat pocket, intuitively closed +around his automatic revolver. A dark silhouette was outlined against +the gray luminosity cast up by the lights of Broadway, half a block from +the window. Through the opening another belching flame shot forth, to +be answered by the criminologist's weapon, barking like a miltraileuse. +They heard a stifled cry, and as Shirley ran forward, he exclaimed with +disappointment. + +“He's escaped down the fire-escape and through that skylight.” + +He faced about to smile grimly at the curious scene within. The +playwright had taken refuge among the brass andirons of the big empty +fireplace. The matinee heroes were under chairs, and Holloway behind the +mahogany buffet. From the direction of the stairway came shrill cries +from the speeding merchant, softening in intensity as he neared the +street level. + +“The battle's over!” exclaimed Holloway. “I don't know whether it was my +chorus men wishing the gipsy curse on me, or the stage-carpenters going +on a strike. But look! See the swag that Jerry left behind! What shall +we do with it?” + +“Loot!” suggested the playwright, with rare discrimination, as he dusted +off the wood ashes, and approached the table with glistening eyes. +“We'll divide share and share alike. It's the only way to win from +Jerry.” + +Temperament was asserting its gameness. Shirley put back into position +a shattered portrait of Sarah Bernhardt, and his eyes twinkled as the +apostles of the muses hastened to divide the chips of the departed one +into five generous piles. Holloway completed the letter, albeit with a +nervous chirography, and handed him the envelope. + +“Go now, before a submarine war zone is declared. I'm going to close up +shop before the police come visiting. Good luck, Monty, in the cause of +science.” + +Although his conscience was clear about the game having created five +surprised winners by his interruption, he was disturbed over the +certainty that the voice was aware of his personal work in the case. The +difficulties were now trebled! Before any policemen appeared Shirley +had passed Broadway on his way to the motion picture studio, on the West +side of Tenth Avenue. Whatever secret observers may have been on his +tracks, nothing untoward occurred: still, his senses were quickened into +caution by the attempt on his life. + +A parley with a grumpy gateman, the presentation of his letter and he +was admitted to the presence of the manager, a man exhausted with the +strenuosity of night and day work. Shirley understood the antidote for +his sullenness. + +“Here, old man, send out for a little luncheon for the two of us. I have +some unusual experimental work, and need the assistance of a well-known +expert like yourself.” The flattery, embellished by a ten-dollar bill, +opened a flood-gate of optimism. + +A camera man was summoned, and the apparatus prepared for some +“close-up” motion pictures. Under the weird green lights of the mercury +vapor lamps, a director and company of players were busily enacting +a dramatic scene, before a studio set. They gave little heed to the +newcomer: boredom is a prime requisite of poise in the motion picture +art. + +“I have here three phonograph records, which I want photographed.” + +“But they don't move--you want a still camera,” exclaimed the dumfounded +manager. + +“Yes, they do move as the picture is taken. I want a microscopic lens +used in the camera in such a way that we take a motion picture of the +twinings and twistings of one little thread on the wax cylinder, as it +records the sound waves around the cylinder.” + +The photographer sniffed with scorn, being familiar with eccentric +uplifters of the “movies,” but responded to the command of the manager +to adjust his delicate camera mechanism for the task. + +“There is a certain phrase of words on each cylinder which I want +recorded this way. Can all three be taken parallel with each other on +the same film?” + +“Sure, easiest thing to do--just a triple exposure. We take it on one +edge of the film, through a little slit just a bit wider than the space +of the thread, cut in a screen. Then we rewind that film, and slide the +slit to the middle of the lens, take your second wax record, and do the +same on the right edge of the film for the third. But what's the idea?” + +The camera man began to show interest: he was a skilled mechanician and +he caught the drift of a sensible purpose, at last. + +Shirley did not answer. He placed the first record in the phonograph, +running it until the feminine voice could be distinguished asking: “Can +you hear me now?” He marked the beginning and end of this phrase with +his pocket knife. So with the merry masculine and the aged, disagreeable +voice, he located the same order of words: “Can you hear me now?” + The operation seems easy, in the telling, or again perhaps it appears +intensely involved and hardly worth the trouble. A motto of Shirley's +was: “Nothing is too much trouble if it's worth while.” So, with this. +To the cynical camera man its general nature was expressed in his +whispered phrase to the manager: + +“You better not leave them property butcher knives on that there table, +Mr. Harrison. This gink is nuts: he thinks's he's Mike Angelo or some +other sculpture. He'll start sculpin' the crowd in a minute!” + +“You take the picture and keep your opinions to yourself,” snapped +Shirley whose hearing was highly trained. + +The man lapsed into silence. For two hours they fumed and perspired and +swore, under the intense heat of the low-hung mercury lamps, until at +last a test proved they had the right combination. Shirley greased +the skill of the camera man with a well-directed gratuity, and ordered +speedy development of the film. Before this was done, however, he took +six other records of voices from the folk in the studio, using the same +words: “Can you hear me now?” + +The three strips of triple exposures were taken to the dark room and +developed by the camera man. They were dried on the revolving electric +drums, near a battery of fans. Shirley studied every step of the work, +with this and that question--this had been his method of acquiring a +curiously catholic knowledge of scientific methods since leaving the +university, where sporting proclivities had prompted him to slide +through courses with as little toil as possible. + +A print upon “positive” film was made from each: every strip was +duplicated twenty-five times, at Shirley's suggestion. Then after two +hours of effort the material was ready to be run through the projecting +machine, for viewing upon the screen. + +The manager led Shirley to the small exhibition theatre in which every +film was studied, changed and cut from twenty to fifty times before +being released for the theatres. The camera man went into the little +fire-proof booth, to operate the machine. + +“Which one first, chief?” + +“Take one by chance,” said Shirley, “and I will guess its number. Start +away.” + +There was a flare of light upon the screen, as the operator fussed with +the lamp for better lumination. He slowly began to turn the crank, and +the criminologist watched the screen with no little excitement. The +picture thrown up resembled nothing so much as three endless snakes +twisting in the same general rhythm from top to bottom of the frame. The +twenty-five duplicates were all joined to the original, so that there +was ample opportunity to compare the movements. + +“Well, gov'nor, which film was that?” asked the operator. + +“Not A--it was B or C!” + +“Correct. How'd you guess it? Which is this one?” + +As he adjusted another roll of film in the projector, Shirley turned to +the manager sitting at his side. “Mr. Harrison, were those snakes all +exactly alike?” + +“No. They all wriggled in the same direction, at the same time. But +little rough angles in some movements and queer curves in others made +each individually different.” + +“Just what I thought. There goes another.--That is not film A, either!” + +“Righto!” confirmed the camera man. As the detailed divergence between +the lines became more evident in the repetitions, Shirley slapped his +knee. + +“Now for the finish. Try reel A.” + +This time the three snakey lines moved along in almost identical +synchronism. The only difference was that the first was thin, the second +heavier, the third the darkest and most ragged of all. The relationship +was unmistakable! + +“I got you gov'nor,” cried the operator. “Some dope, all right, all +right.” + +“Why, what is all this?” asked the manager, nonplussed. “The last three +are alike, but what good does it do?” + +“It is known that the human voice in its inflections is like +handwriting--with a distinct personality. Certain words, when pronounced +naturally, without the alterations of dialect, are always in the same +rhythm. The records taken in the studio of those five words, 'Can you +hear me now?' are in the same general rhythm, but only the last three +snakes show exact similarity, to each little quaver and turn. There was +only the difference in shading: one was the voice of a women. The second +of a man of perhaps forty, the third of an old man--all three taken at +different times, and I thought from different people. But they all came +from one throat, and my work is completed along this line--Will you +please lock up the films, the phonograph, and my records in your film +vault, until I send for them; through Mr. Holloway?” + +The criminologist arose and walked into the deserted studio, from whence +the company had long since departed for belated slumbers. He picked up +three bricks which lay in a corner of the big studio, and placed them +gently into his grip. The manager and the camera man observed this with +blank amazement, as he locked it and put the key into his pocket. Then +he handed each of them a large-sized bill. + +“I'm very grateful, gentlemen, for your assistance. Pleasant dreams.” + +Shirley abstractedly walked out of the studio, one hand comfortably in +his overcoat pocket, swinging the grip in the other. + +“Say, Lou,” confided the manager, “he's the craziest guy I've ever seen +in the movies. And that's going some, after ten years of it.” + +Lou treated himself to a generous bite of plug tobacco, and spat +philosophically, before replying. + +“Sure, he's crazy. Crazy, like the grandfather of all foxes!” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. ENTER A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN + + +A reddening zone in the East silhouetted the serrated line of the +distant elevated structure, as Shirley walked along the gray street, his +thoughts busy with the possibilities of applying his new certainty. + +He had reached Sixth Avenue, and was just passing one of the elevated +pillars when a black touring car crept up behind him. The clanging bell +and the grinding motors of an early surface car drowned the sound of +the automobile in his rear. Suddenly the big machine sprang forward at +highest speed. A man leaned from the driver's seat, and snatched the +grip from his hand. + +The motorman, cursing, threw on the emergency brake, in time to barely +graze the machine with his fender as it shot across the street before +him. + +Shirley's view was cut off, until he had run around the street-car--then +he beheld the big automobile skidding in a half-circle, as it turned +down Fifth Avenue. It was too far away to distinguish the number of the +singing license tag. + +“Much good may the bricks do them! Perhaps they will help to build the +annex necessary up the river, when these gentry go there for a long +visit.” + +Shirley laughed at the joke on his pursuers, and turned into a little +all-night grill for a comforting mutton chop of gargantuan proportions, +with an equally huge baked potato. He was a healthy brute, after all +his morbid line of activities! Later, at the Club, he submitted to the +amenities of the barber, whose fine Italian hand smoothed away, in a +skilful massage, the haggard lines of his long vigil. As he left the +club house for William Grimsby's residence he looked as fresh and +bouyant as though he had enjoyed the conventional eight hours' sleep. + +“You are this Montague Shirley?” was the querulous greeting from the +old gentleman, when he was admitted to the drawing-room. “You kept me in +anguish the entire night, with your silly words. The telephone bell +rang at intervals of half an hour until dawn: I may have missed some +important business deal by not replying What do you mean? Is this some +blackmail game?” + +“No, sir. It has to deal with blackmailing, however--but not for my +profit.” + +“Explain quickly. I am a busy man. My motor is waiting now to take me to +my office.” + +“Look here, Mr. Grimsby, at this memorandum book,” said Shirley, holding +forward the list which he had copied from the joy-party article in the +theatrical paper. “With some friends of yours, you held merry carnival +to Venus and Bacchus at an all-night lobster palace not long ago. Have I +the right names?” + +“This is rank impertinence. How dare you? Get out of my house.” + +“Not so fast, my dear sir, until you understand my drift. Throughout +Club circles you and Mr. Van Cleft, with these other cronies are +sarcastically referred to as the Lobster Club. Did you know that?” + +Grimsby's face was purple with angry mortification, but Shirley would +not be gainsaid. “I am acting in this matter as a friend of Howard Van +Cleft,” he continued. “Your three friends have met their deaths at the +hand of a cunning conspirator. Last night, white I talked with you on +the telephone, young Van Cleft was receiving advice over another wire +from a person who pretended to be William Grimsby--advising him to hush +the matter up and drop the investigation. But--Captain Cronin the +famous detective--has received a tip that the number of victims would be +increased very soon--frankly, now: do you want to be the fourth?” + +Grimsby's face changed to ashen gray, as he timidly clutched Shirley's +sleeve. + +“Then cooperate with me. You understand now the nature of this villain's +work: to rob and assassinate his victim in the company of a girl, so +that this would endeavor to hush the scandal, without reporting it to +the police. His progress is unchecked, and afterwards he would have +untold opportunity for continuing a demand for hush money on the +surviving relatives. May I count on you to help?” + +“You may count on me to leave the city within the next two hours.” + +“Good! But I want to have you disappear so quietly that this cunning +unknown will not know of it. He is watching your house now, without a +doubt.” + +Grimsby strode to the window, with his characteristic limp, and drew the +heavy curtains aside, to peer out nervously. + +“No one is in sight.” + +“The man is as unseen in his work as a germ. But he is not unheard: he +uses the telephone to locate his victims, that is why I advised you to +let your instrument ring unanswered.” + +“I'll do what I can, if I can keep out of more danger. An old man craves +life more than a young one. I fought through the Civil War and brought +a medal from Congress and this wounded knee out of it, Mr. Shirley. I +didn't fear anything then, but times have changed!” + +“Here is my plan, then,” continued Shirley, his lips twitching with +sub-strata amusement, “I want to impersonate you, when you leave, so +that this man tries to send me after the other three. Don't interrupt, +let me finish--You will say that it is impossible to deceive any one at +close range. Surely, it does sound melodramatic, like a lurid tale of +a paper back novel. But I have studied the photographs of your friends. +You and I bear the closest resemblance of any in the group. Your weight +is about the same as mine--your shoulders are a trifle stooped and +you walk with a curious drag of your left foot. Your hair is white +but thick: the contour of our faces is quite similar, and so with dry +cosmetics, some physical mimicry, and the use of a pair of horn-rimmed +glasses like yours I can make a comparatively good double. The only +exposure to the sharp eyes of your enemies will be, first, when I +substitute myself for you and take your automobile back home; second, +when I go down to the theatrical district, to visit a well-known tearoom +where I learn you are a frequent guest. There the wall tables are +shrouded by decorations, and I shall keep in the shadow and talk as +little as possible. Behind those dark glasses, and entering the place +with your peculiarly spotted fur coat, I will resemble you more than you +believe. If to add to the illusion, I show hospitable prodigality with +drinks for the others, it is probable that their observation will be +less analytical. Then, third in the line of activities, I will go to the +theatre, sit in a darkened box, and let them take me where they will in +whatever automobile turns up. Thus you see my campaign.” + +“How much do I have to pay you?” + +“I might have expected that,” was the laughing retort. “You are noted +for the fortunes you waste on stupid show girls, while times are hard +with you in your offices where young and old men struggle along to +support honest families. Have no fear, Mr. Grimsby, my income is enough +for my simple wants. I am entering this hunt for big game, just as I +have gone to India and East Africa, for jungle trophies. It will not +cost you a nickel.” + +“I had better contribute a little,” began Grimsby, embarrassed, as he +drew out a check-book. But Shirley negatived with emphasis. + +“How about your servants? Can you trust them with the secret?” + +“They have been with me for twenty-five years or more. My wife is in +California, and the rest of the servants, except two maids and a butler, +up at my country home on the Hudson.” + +“Fine: then, in two hours from now, meet me at the Hotel Astor, where I +have rooms, in the name of Madden. Bring down an extra suit of clothes, +and an extra overcoat, for I want to wear your fur one, which I see +there on the davenport. On the downward trip instruct your chauffeur +to drive your car up to your country place, as soon as he has made the +return trip from the hotel. You will be there before he gets up, on the +country roads and he will be none the wiser. Goodbye, Mr. Grimsby.” + +At the club Shirley made some necessary disposition of his private +matters, for he knew this case would run longer than a day. From +his rooms he sent a note by messenger to his theatrical friend, Dick +Holloway, which read simply. + +“Dear Holloway:--The experiment with the movies won the blue ribbon. I +have a new plan on foot. You can help me in this, as well. I want you to +engage for me a beautiful, clever and daring actress, afraid of nothing +under the sun or moon, and absolutely unknown on Broadway. No amateurs +or stage-struck heiresses or manicurists: you are the one impresario who +can fill my bill. I will call at your office in fifteen minutes, so have +the compact sealed by then. Who finally won the loot, last night? + + Your friend, Montague Shirley.” + +The manager was forced to go through the note twice, to make sure that +his senses were not leaving him. Then he turned in the chair, toward +the unusual young woman who sat in his private office, observing with +mingled amusement and curiosity the fleeting expressions upon his face. + +“In view of your mission in America, this may interest you,” was his +amused comment, as he handed her the missive. “It is from the most +curious man in New York.” + +He studied the downcast lashes, as she read the letter. Hers was a +face which had stirred a continent, yet he had never met her until this +memorable day. She might have been twenty-three years old--and again, +might have been three years younger or older. Rippling red-gold waves +of hair separated in the center of her smooth brow to caress with a soft +wave on either side the blooming cheeks, whose Nature-grown roses were +unusual in this world-weary vicinity of Broadway. A sweet mouth with a +sensuous smile at one corner, and a barely perceptible droop of pathos +at the other, lent an indescribable piquance to her dimpled smile. The +blue orbs which raised to his own with a Sphinxian laugh in their +azure depths thrilled him--Holloway, the blase, the hardened theatrical +manager, flattered and cajoled by hundreds of beautiful women on the +quest of stage success! + +Adroitly veiled beneath the silken folds of the clinging gown, redolent +with the bizarre artistry of a Parisian atelier, was the shapely +suggestion of exquisite physical perfection which did not escape the +connoisseur glance of Holloway. + +“He is a literary man: I know that from the small, yet fluent writing, +and the cross marks for periods show that he has written for newspapers +and corrected his own proofs--He is unusually definite in what he +desires and accustomed to having his imperious way about most things. In +this case, he is easily pleased--merely perfection is his desire.” + +“Shirley is generally prompt, and is apt to breeze in here any second +now, with his two hundred pounds and six feet of brawn and ginger. I +wonder--” + +“Why do you suppose such a paragon is desired by your friend? Who is he? +What is he like, not an ordinary actor--” and the wondrous eyes darkened +with a curious thought. + +“My dear lady, no one has discovered the mental secrets of Montague +Shirley. He apparently wastes his life as do other popular society men +with much money and more time on their hands. Yet, somehow, I always +feel in his presence as one does when standing on the bow of an ocean +liner, with the salt breeze whizzing into your heart. He is a force of +nature, yet he explains nothing: a thorough man of the world; droll, +sarcastic, generous and I believe for democracy he is unequaled by any +Tammany politician: he knows more policemen, dopes, conductors, beggars, +chauffeurs, gangsters, bartenders, jobless actors, painters, preachers, +anarchists, and all the rest of New York's flotsam and jetsam than any +one in the world. He is always the polished gentleman, and yet they take +him man for man.” + +“What does this unusual person do for a living?” + +“Nothing but living!” + +Her interest was naturally undiminshed by this perfervid tribute, and +she clapped her dainty hands together with sudden mirth. + +“You know why I came here, and why to you, Mr. Holloway. You know who I +am, and although I answer none of those exorbitant terms except that I +am not known by sight along your big street Broadway, why not recommend +me for the position?” + +“But you, of all people!” Holloway's face was a study in amazement. “You +can't tell what wild project he has in view. Shirley is a wild Indian, +in many things you know--just when you least expect it. I have known him +a dozen years.” + +He paused to weigh the matter, and his sense of humor conquered. He +roared with mirth, which was joined in more sedately by the unknown +girl. “That settles it. You couldn't start on your campaign in a better +way. You shall be the Lady of Mystery in this story! I will not breathe +a hint of your identity to Shirley, and no one else knows, of course. +What a ripping good joke: I'm glad you came here the first hour after +your landing in New York.” + +“What shall I call myself? I have it--a romantic name, which will be +worth laughing over later--let me see--Helene Marigold. Is that flowery +enough?” + +“Shirley will be sure you are an actress when he hears that. Mum is +the word, may you never have stage fright and never miss a cue--Here he +comes now!” + +The criminologist rushed into the office impetuously, dropping his bag +on the floor, and doffing his hat as he beheld the pretty companion of +Holloway. + +“On time to the minute, as usual, Shirley. Your note came, and I +followed your instructions. Let me present to you your new star, Miss +Helene Marigold, who just disembarked on the steamer from England this +morning. You have secured a young lady who is making all Europe sit up +and rub its eyes. I believe I have at last found a match for you, Prince +of the Unexpected!” + +Shirley held forth his fervent hand, and was surprised at the almost +masculine sincerity with which the delicately gloved fingers returned +the pressure. He looked into the blue eyes with a challenging scrutiny, +and received as frank an answer! + +Dick Holloway indulged in an unobserved smile, as he turned to look out +of the window, lost for the nonce in mirthful speculation. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK + + +“Dick, you can help me further, with your dramatic knowledge. I feel in +duty bound to tell Miss Marigold that she is risking her life, if she +takes up this task.” + +Instead of hesitancy, which Shirley half expected, the girl's face +flushed with quickened interest, and her eyes sparkled with enjoyment as +he unfolded the situation. At the mention of Grimsby, Holloway grunted +with disgust--it may have been a variety of professional jealousy. Who +knows? However, the problem fascinated the mysterious young woman, who +blushed, in spite of herself, when Shirley put his blunt question to +her. + +“And you are willing to assume for a time the character of one of these +stage moths, whom rich men of this type pursue and woo, wine, dine and +boast about? Will it interfere with your own work? Any salary arranged +by Mr. Holloway is agreeable, for this unusual task.” + +“The game, not the money, is the attraction. I will be ready when you +pronounce my cue.” + +“Splendid. Dick, will you assist Miss Marigold in selecting an +attractive apartment in a theatrical hotel this afternoon. I will call +for her at four-thirty, to take her to tea. She may not know me, at +first glance: that depends upon the help you give me at the Astor. +I will expect you there in an hour. I haven't acted since I left the +college shows: with a hundred chances to one against my success, even I +am not bored.” + +He hurried from the office, and Holloway noted the glow in the +girl's glance which followed his stalwart figure. Holloway was a +good tactician: there were reasons why he enjoyed this new role of +match-maker de luxe, yet he played his hand far more subtly than at +poker. Which was well! + +Ensconced in the Astor, Shirley was soon busy before the cheval glass, +from which were suspended three photographs of William Grimsby, obtained +from a photographic news syndicate. + +Coat and waistcoat had been removed, as he discriminatingly applied the +dry cosmetics with skill which suggested that he had disguised himself +for daylight purposes far more than he would admit. By the time he had +powdered his thick locks with the white pulverized chalk, and donned +a pair of horn-rim glasses of amber tint, his whole personality had +changed. The similarity was startling to the prototype who was admitted +to the room a few minutes later. + +“Why, I beg pardon--I have come to the wrong suite,” were Grimsby's +apologetic words, as he essayed to retreat. + +“You are the first victim of the mirage. Do you like the caricature?” + +“Astounding, my friend!” gasped Grimsby, sinking into the chair. Shirley +drew him to the mirror, to make a closer study of the lines of senility +and late hours. A few delicate touches of purple and blue, some +retouching of the nostrils, and he drew on the suit provided by his +elder. Dick Holloway was announced, and Shirley ordered some wine and a +dinner for one! At Grimsby's surprise, Shirley, smiled indulgently. + +“I am selfish--I will have a little supper party by myself, and spare +you in nothing. I want you to eat, to drink, to pour wine, to take out +your wallet, to walk, to sit down, to laugh, to scold! You have a task, +sir: I will imitate you move by move! This is a rare experiment.” + +“Great Scott! Which is you?” cried Holloway who entered with the +burdened waiter. + +“Neither. We're both me!” chuckled the criminologist. “But let me +introduce you to my twin--” + +The two men exchanged formalities with an undercurrent of dislike. +Shirley lost no time. He compelled the old man to run through his paces, +as Holloway criticized each study in miming. Just as the capitalist +would swing his arms, limp with his left leg, shift his head ever so +little, from side to side in his walk, so Shirley copied him. A +word here, an exhortation there, and Shirley improved steadily under +Holloway's analytical direction. At last the lesson was ended, with the +manager's pronounciamento of “graduation cum lauda.” + +“I'll have to star you, Monty,” he declared, as Shirley put on the fur +greatcoat of the old man, grasping the gold headed cane, and drooping +his shoulders in a perfect imitation of the other's attitude. + +“Perhaps it will be necessary. The chorus men have invaded society with +their fox-trots and maxixe steps. We club men will have to countercharge +the enemy, for self-preservation, to play heavy villains upon the stage. +Eh?” + +He turned toward Grimsby, who was well wearied with the trying ordeal, +and evidencing a growing nervousness about his own escape. + +“You know how to leave, according to my plan? Wrap the muffler well +around the lower part of your face, button this second overcoat closely +about your neck, and enter the private carriage which I ordered for 'Mr. +Lee,' waiting now at the Forty-fifth Street Side. Then drive leisurely +to the West Forty-second Street Ferry, where you can catch the late +afternoon train for your country place.” + +“Good-bye, Mr. Shirley. I have been an old curmudgeon with you, I fear. +You have taught this old dog new tricks in several ways, young man. +Neither I nor my friends will forget your bravery. They are all out of +the city by now, according to word from my private secretary. Your field +is clear. Good luck, sir!” + +Shirley and Holloway left the rooms first. Neither addressed the other +on the lift, as it descended to the street level. Holloway casually +followed Monty as he stiffly walked to the big red limousine waiting at +the Forty-fourth Street entrance of the hostelry. The chauffeur sprang +out, opening the door with a respectful salute. The disguise was +successful! + +“Home!” grunted Shirley, sinking back into the car, with collar high +about his neck and the soft hat half concealing his eyes. He scrutinized +the faces of the passers-by, photographing in that receptive memory of +his the ugly features of two men, who peered into the limousine from +under the visors of their black caps. The car sped up town through the +bewildering maze of street traffic. The chauffeur helped him up the +steps of the brownstone mansion, while Grimsby's old butler swung open +the glass door, with a helping hand under the feeble arm. + +Shirley puffed and grunted impatiently until he heard the door close +behind him. Then straightening up, he turned upon the startled butler. + +“Well, my man. Go out and tell the chauffeur to leave for the country at +once, as Mr. Grimsby already ordered him to do.” + +“My Gawd, sir!” exclaimed the servant, paling perceptibly. “What's come +over you, sir?--Oh, I beg pardon, sir, you're the other gentleman. You +certainly fooled me, sir--You're bloody brave, sir, to do all this for +the master. Are we in any danger?” + +“Not a bit--whatever happens will be outside the house. Just keep up the +secret, as you value your master's life. Go, and tell the man. I must +kill time here in the library, reading until four o'clock.” + +Shirley threw aside the greatcoat, and walked to the window of the small +reception room which faced the street, to draw aside the curtains and +watch the chauffeur, as he entered the machine to speed away. A black +automobile slowly passed the house, bearing two men on the driver's +seat. From under the visors of their black caps they scrutinized the +building, to hastily look away as they observed the face at the window. + +Shirley made a note of the number of the machine. He could have sworn +that this was the same car which had passed him that morning at dawn +when the grip was snatched from his hand. + +He returned to the library, where he lost himself in the rare old +volumes of Grimsby's life collection: the criminologist was a booklover +and the hours drifted by as in a happy playtime, until the butler came +to tell him the time. + +“Great Scott! I must hurry. Call a taxi, for me. I will go to Holloway's +office to learn where Miss Marigold has been ensconced.” + +He sat in the machine before the office building, as he sent the +chauffeur up to Dick's office, to inquire for a message to “Mr. +Grimsby.” A note was brought down, informing him that the girl awaited +him in the Hotel California, a few blocks above. The machine started off +once more, and Shirley laughed at the droll situation in which he found +himself. + +“I wonder who Helene Marigold can be? I wonder what Holloway meant +precisely when he predicted that I would meet my match. I am not seeking +one kind--and blue eyes, surrounded by red-gold hair and peaches and +cream will not shake my determination.” + +But the best laid determinations of bachelor hearts gang aft agley! + +Down at the Hotel California, famous for its rare collection of +attractive feminine guests and the manifold breach-of-promise suits +which had emanated from the palm bedecked entrance, Helene Marigold was +indulging herself in a delighted, albeit highly amused, inspection +of sundry large boxes which had been arriving from shops in the +neighborhood. + +“As nearly as I can imagine this must look like the bower of a Broadway +Phryne. All that is missing is a family portrait in crayon of the father +who was a coal miner, the presence of a buxom financial genius for the +stage mother, and a Chinese chow-dog on a cerise velvet cushion. But who +ever attains perfection here below?” + +She lifted some filmy gowns which had arrived in the latest parcel +to her chin, peering over the sheerness of the lacy cascade, into the +mirror of the dressing-table. + +“If good old Jack could see me now? Poor, old, stupid, dear, silly +Jack! I must write to him at once, for he is largely responsible for my +present unusual surroundings. How pleased this would not make him, the +old dear.” + +With the thought, she sat down before the escritoire, dipping a pearl +and gold pen, as she paused for the words with which to begin the note. +Another knock came at the door. It could not be another gown. She had +told Holloway to keep all her personal baggage at the steamer dock +until she had finished her lark! At the portal a diminutive messenger +delivered a large white box, ornately bound in lavender ribbons. When +she unwrapped it, hidden in the folds of many reams of delicate tissue, +she found a gorgeous bunch of orchids. + +“How beautiful! I wonder who could have--” then she found a white card, +and read it aloud, with a mirthful peal of laughter. + +“To Lollypop's little Bonbon Tootems--from her foolish old Da-Da!” + +Helene turned toward the window, to gaze out over the mysterious, +foreign motley array of roofs and obtruding skyscrapers of this curious +district. + +“This mysterious man plays his part with a sense of humor. If only he +will be different and not mean the flowers, ever!” + +And she forgot to finish the note which was to have gone to faraway, +stupid, dear old Jack. + +Ten minutes later an aged gentleman entered the gorgeous foyer of the +Hotel California, impatiently presenting his card to the bell-boy, +for announcement to Miss Marigold. The lad, true to tradition, quietly +confided the name to the interested clerk, before doing so. As the +visitor was shown to the elevator, the clerk turned to his assistant +with a nudge. + +“There's the easiest spender of the Lobster Club. That means good trade +here, with this new peach in the crate. These old ginks are hard as +Bessemer armor-plate in business, but oh, how soft the tumble for a new +shade of peroxide.” + +“Mr. Grimsby” was soon sitting on the velour divan, at a comfortable +distance from possible eavesdroppers at the door. She was putting the +finishing touches to her preparation for the butterfly role. Shirley +felt an unexpected thrill at this little intimacy of their relations: +the rooms were permeated with the most delicate suggestion of a curious +perfume, which was strange to him. Somehow it fitted her personality +so effectually: for despite the physical appeal of her beauty, +now accentuated by the risque costume which she had donned, at the +professional suggestion of Dick Holloway, there was a pervasive +spirituality in the girl's face, her hands, and the tones of her soft +voice. + +She turned to smile at him, her dimples playing hide and seek with the +white pearls beneath the unduly scarlet lip. + +“Isn't this a ripping good situation for a novel?” she began. + +“Yes, too good at present, Miss Marigold. There are too many, important +people to be affected for it ever to be given to the public, for the +identities would all be exposed ruthlessly. Besides, no one would +believe it: it seems too improbable, being real life. It will be more +improbable before we finish the adventure, I suspect. Can I trust your +discretion to keep it secret? You know, I have a deal of skepticism +about the best of women.” + +Helene reddened under that keen glance, and he saw that he had offended +her. + +“I beg your pardon: I know that we shall work it out together, with +absolute mutual trust.” + +Such an earnest vibrance was in his voice that somehow she was reminded +of another voice: her mind went back to the neglected letter to Jack. +What could have caused her to be so remiss? She would not let herself +dwell on the subject--instead, with a surprising deftness, she caught up +Shirley's own cue, for a staggering question of her own. + +“Are you sure that you have absolutely confided in me? Did you start at +the beginning, when you told the story to-day.” + +“What do you mean?” and Shirley caught the glance sharply. + +“Your unusual rapidity of action, Mr. Shirley, for a mere interested +friend! It is queer how wonderfully your mind has connected this work, +and the various accidental happenings, to evolve this clever ruse in +which I am to assist. It doesn't seem so amateurish as you would make +it. You seem mysterious to me.” + +“Do you think I am the voice? Here is a chance for real detective work, +if you can double the game, and capture me?” was the laughing retort. “I +don't believe you trust me.” + +The girl stood up before him, and after one deep look, her eyes fell +before his. Those exquisite lashes sent a tiny flutter through the +case-hardened heart of the club man, despite his desperate determination +to be a Stoic. + +“I do trust you,” the voice was impetuous, almost petulant. “You are a +real man: I merely give you credit for being better than the class of +rich young men of whom you pretend to be an absolute type. But there, +I waste words and time. Is my costume for this little opera boufe +satisfactory to you? Do you like my warpaint and battle armor?” + +She stood before him, a glorious bird of paradise. The wanton display +of a maddening curve of slender ankle, through the slash of the clinging +gown imparted just the needed allurement to stamp her as a Vestal of +the temple of Madness. The cunning simplicity of the draping over her +shoulders--luminous with the iridiscent gleam of ivory skin beneath, +accentuated by the voluptuous beauty of her youthful bosom--the fleeting +change of colors and contours as she slowly turned about in this +maddening soul-trap of silk and laces--all these were not lost on the +senses of Shirley. As the depths of those blue eyes opened before his +gaze, a mad, a ridiculous aching to crush her in his arms, surprised +the professional consulting criminologist! For this swift instant, all +memory of the Van Cleft case, of every other problem, was driven from +his mind, as a blinding blast of seething desire surged about him. + +Then the old resolution, the conquering will of the man of one purpose, +beat back the flames of this threatening conflagration. His eyes +narrowed, his hands dropped to his side, and he squinted at her with the +frigid dissective gaze of an artist studying the curves of a model. + +“You must rouge your cheeks more, blue your eyelids and redden your lips +even yet. Then be generous with the powder--and that wonderful perfume.” + +An inscrutable smile played about the sensitive lips, as Helene turned +to her dressing-table. Shirley stood with his face to the window; he did +not observe it, nor would he have understood its menace to his own peace +of mind. Helene, however, did. She was a woman. + +“May I smoke a cigarette? I am afraid I am almost a fiend, for I seem to +crave the foolish comfort that I imagine they give, in times of nervous +drain.” + +“No, Lollypop's little Bonton Tootems enjoys their fragrance. Don't +ever ask me again. I have completed the mural decoration with futurist +extravagance in the color scheme. My cloak, sir!” + +He tossed it about her, and took up his hat and gold-headed stick. With +a final glance at his own careful make-up, he started after her for the +street. + +“Some chikabiddy!” was the remark of the clerk to the head bell-boy. The +words reached the ears of Shirley and Helene. Her hand trembled on his +arm as they entered a waiting taxicab. She looked pathetically at him, +as she asked. + +“Don't you think I am interested, sincere and loyal, to brave such +remarks as these, and the other worse things they will say before long? +I wouldn't dare do this, if I were not sure that no one in America but +you and Mr. Holloway knows me. To wear this horrid stuff on my face--to +dress in these vulgar clothes--to impersonate such a girl! You know I'm +not nearly as bad as I'm painted!” + +Shirley clasped her white-gloved hand and nodded. He was studying the +pedestrians for a familiar twain of faces. He was not disappointed, as +the car swung into Broadway. + +“Look--those two men have been following me wherever I have gone. They +are a pair of old-fashioned pirates. Don't forget their faces!” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. IN THE GARDEN OF TEMPTATION + + +Their destination, one of the score of tango tea-rooms which had sprung +to mushroom popularity within the year, was soon reached. Leaning +heavily upon his stick, limping like his aged model, and spluttering +impatiently, Shirley was assisted by the uniformed door man into the +lobby. Helene followed meekly. Four hat boys from the check-room made +the conventional scramble for his greatcoat, hat and stick, nearly +upsetting him in their eagerness. Then Shirley led the way into the half +light of the tropical, indoor garden, picking a way through the tables +to a distant wall seat, embowered with electric grapes and artificial +vines. + +“Sit down, my darling child,” said the pseudo Grimsby, as he dropped +into a seat behind the table, which was protected from the lights, and +furthest away from any possible visitors. “We are early, avoiding the +crush. Soon the crowd will be here. We must have some champagne at once, +to assist me in my defensive tactics. You will have to do most of the +talking. Remember, we are going to the Winter Garden musical review when +we leave here: you may tell this to whom you will.” + +Helene looked about curiously, as the big tea-room began to fill with +its usual late afternoon crowd of patrons,--young, old and indeterminate +in age. Women of maturely years, young misses from “finishing” schools, +demimondaine, social “bounders” deluded by the glitter of their own +jewelry and the thrill of their wasted money that they were climbing +into New York society--these and other curious types rubbed elbows in +this melting pot of folly. The tinkle of glasses, the increasing buzz +of conversation, the empty laughter of too many emptied cocktail glasses +mingled with the droning music of an Hawaiian string quartette in the +far corner. + +Suddenly, with banging tampani and the crash of cymbals, rattle of +tambourines and beating of tomtoms, the barbaric Ethiopians of the +dancing orchestra began their syncopated outrages against every known +law of harmony--swinging weirdly into the bewitching, tickling, tingling +rhythm of a maxixe. + +“How strange!” murmured Helene, as the waiter brought them some +champagne and indigestible pastries--the true ingredients of 'dansant +the'. + +“Yes, on with the dance-let joy be unrefined! The fall of the Roman +Empire was the bounce of a rubber nursery ball, compared with this New +York avalanche of luxurious satiation! Now, my child, old Da-da, is +going to become too intoxicated to talk three words to any of these +gallants and their lassies. Grimsby did not write a monologue for me, +so I must pantomime: you will have to carry the speaking part of our +playlet. Flatter them--but don't leave my side to dance!” + +The first bottle of wine had been carried away by the waiter, (half +emptied it is true,) as he filled a second order. Shirley shielded his +face beneath a drooping spray of artificial blooms from the top of +their wallbower. Several young men were approaching them, and the +criminologist noted with relief that they evidenced their afternoon +libations even so early. Eyes dulled with over-stimulus were the less +analytical. Chance was favoring him. The newcomers were garbed in that +debonair and “cultured” modishness so dear to the hearts of magazine +illustrators. Faces, weak with sunken cheek lines, strong in creases +of selfishness, darkened by the brush strokes of nocturnal excesses and +seared, all of them with the brand mark of inbred rascality, identified +them to Shirley as members of that shrewd class of sycophants who feast +on the follies of the more amateurish moths of the Broadway Candles. + +“Hello, old pop Grimsby!” + +“You're in the dark of the moon, Grimmie! I couldn't make you out but +for those horn rimmed head lights.” + +“Welcome to the joy-parlor, old scout.” + +The greetings of the juvenile buzzards varied only in phraseology: their +portent was identical: “Open wine.” + +“Poor Mr Grimsby is so ill this afternoon, but sit down and have +something with us,” volunteered Helene tremulously. + +The bees gathered about the table to feast on the vinous honey, while +Shirley, mumbling a few words, maintained his partial obscurity, with +one hand to his forehead. + +“Fine boysh, m'deah. Boysh, meet little Bonbon--my protashsh!” + +Little Bonbon was a pronounced attraction. Her vivacious charm drew the +eyes away from Shirley, who studied the expressions of the weasel faces +about him. The girl's heart sickened under the brutal frankness of a +dozen calculating eyes, yet she valiantly maintained her part, +while Shirley marveled at her clever simulation of silly, giggly, +semi-intoxication. One youth deserted them to disappear through +the distant dining room entrance. The comments about the table were +interesting to the keen-eared masquerader. + +“Old Grimsby's picked a live one, this time!”--“What show is she +with?”--“Won't Pinkie be sore?” The criminologist was not left to wonder +as to the identity of “Pinkie,” for an older man, walking behind a +red-headed girl in a luridly modern gown, approached the table with the +absent guest. The men were talking earnestly, the girl staring angrily +at Shirley's, beautiful companion. + +“Hey, here come's Reggie! Sit down, Reg. Pop has passed away, but his +credit is still strong.” + +“There's Pinkie--come, my dear, and join the Ladies' Aid Society and +have a lemonade,” jested another youth, making a place for the girl in +the aisle. + +Pinkie's dark-haired companion sank somewhat unsteadily into a chair +next the girl. He frowned and rubbed his forehead, as though to clear +his mind for needed concentration. He shook Shirley's arm, and spoke +sharply. + +“Look up; Grimmie. I never saw you feel your wine so early in the +afternoon. It was a lucky day for me on Wall Street, so I celebrated +myself. You are here earlier than usual. Everybody have some champagne +with me.” + +As he beckoned to the waiter, the red-haired girl bestowed a murderous +look upon Helene, who was sniffing some flowers which she had drawn from +the vase on the table. + +“Who's that Jane?” she demanded, her voice-shaking with jealousy. +“Grimmie, you act as if you were doped. Introduce us to your swell +friend. Wake him, Reg Warren.” + +Helene's jeweled white hand protected the safety-first dozing of her +companion, as, through the interstices of his fingers, he studied the +inscrutable difference between the face of Warren and the other youths +about them. + +“Let Pop dream of a new way to make a million!” laughed one young man. +“His money grows while he sleeps.” + +“Yes, let him dream on,” laughed Helene, with a shrill giggle. “When he +makes that extra million he can star me on Broadway, in my own show. He, +he!” + +“You'll have to spend half of it at John the Barber's getting your voice +marceled and your face manicured,” snarled Pinkie. “Come, Reg, and dance +with me: these bounders bore me.” + +“Run along, Pinkie, and fox-trot your grouch away with Shine Taylor. +Here comes the wine I ordered--What's your name, girlie? Where did you +meet Grimsby?” + +“Oh, we're old friends,” and Helene maliciously spilled a bottle over +the interrogator's waistcoat, as she reached forward to shake his hand. +“My name's Bonbon, you wouldn't believe me if I told you my real name, +anyway. Who are you?” + +“I'm not Neptune,” he retorted, as he mopped the bubbles with a napkin. +“You've started in badly.” Shirley mentally disagreed. His stupor still +obsessed him, but he noted with interest that Warren paid the check +for his bottle with a new one-hundred dollar bill. Warren could elicit +nothing from Helene but silly laughter, and so he arose impatiently, +as Shine Taylor returned to whisper something in his ear. “I must be +getting back to my apartment. Bring Grimsby up to it to-night: a little +bromo will bring him back to the land of the living. I'll have a jolly +crowd there--top floor of the Somerset, on Fifty-sixth Street, you know, +near Sixth Avenue. Come up after the show.” + +“We're going to the Winter Garden,” suggested Helene, at a nudge from +Shirley, and Warren nodded. + +“I'll try to see you later, anyway. Goodbye!” + +Losing interest in the proceedings, as the time for reckoning the bill +approached, the other gallants followed these two. Alone, again, Shirley +ordered some black coffee, and smiled at his assistant. + +“He told the truth for once.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“He will try to see us later. That man is a member of the murderous +clan whom we seek. 'To-night is the night' for the exit of William +Grimsby--but, perhaps we may have a stage wait which will surprise +them.” + +Gradually the guests thinned out in the tea-room, but Shirley cautiously +waited until the last. + +“Do you believe these young men are all members of the gang?” asked the +girl. “Why do you suppose these men are all criminals? They surely look +a bad lot.” + +“There are two general reasons why men go wrong. One is hard luck, aided +by tempting opportunity--they hope to make a success out of failure, and +then keep on the straight path for the rest of their lives. Such men +are the absconders, the forgers, the bank-wreckers, and even the petty +thieves. But once branded with the prison bars and stripes, they seldom +find it possible to turn against the tide in which they find themselves: +so they become habitual offenders. They are the easiest criminals to +detect. The second class are the born crooks, who are lazy, sharp-witted +and without enough will-power to battle against the problems of +honesty in work. It is easy enough to succeed if a man is clever and +unscrupulous without a shred of generosity. The hard problem is to be +affectionate, human, and conquer every-day battles by remaining actively +honest, when your rivals are not straight. The born crook is safer from +prison than the weakling of the first class.” He looked down at the +coffee, and then continued. + +“I do not believe all these young men are in this curious plot. They are +merely the small fry of the fishing banks: they are petty rascals, with +occasional big game. But somewhere, behind this sinister machine, is a +guiding hand on the throttle, a brain which is profound, an eye which +is all-seeing and a heart as cold as an Antartic mountain. There is the +exceptional type of criminal who is greedy--for money and its luxurious +possibilities; selfish--with regard for no other heart in the world; +crafty--with the cunning of an Apache, enjoying the thrill of crime and +cruelty; refined and vainglorious--with pride in his skill to thwart +justice and confidence in his ability to continually broaden the scope +of his work. Crime is the ruling passion of this unknown man. And the +way to catch him is by using that passion as a bait upon the hook. I +am the wriggling little angle worm who will dangle before his eyes +to-night. But I do not expect to land him--I merely purpose to learn his +identity, to draw the net of the law about him, in such a way as to keep +the Grimsby and Van Cleft names from the case.” + +“And how can that be done?” + +“That, young lady, is my 'fatal secret.' The subplot developing within +my mind is still nebulous with me,--you would lose all interest, as +would I, if you knew what was going to happen. But the time has passed, +and now we can go to the theatre. I bought the tickets by messenger +this afternoon. I will let you do the talking to the chauffeur and the +usher.” + +They left the tea-room, the last guests out. + +It was a touching sight to see the elderly gentleman supported on one +side by a fat French waiter, and on the opposite, by the solicitous +girl. The old Civil War wound was unusually troublesome. + + + + +CHAPTER X. WHEN IT'S DARK IN THE PARK + + +At the entrance of the restaurant the starter tooted his shrill whistle, +and a driver began to crank his automobile in the waiting line of cars. +According to the rules of the taxi stands he was next in order. But, as +is frequently the custom in the hotly contested district of “good fares” + another car “cut in” from across the street. This taxi swung quickly +around and drew up before the waiting criminologist. + +Grunting and mumbling, as though still deep in his cups, Monty allowed +himself to be half pushed, half lifted into the car by the attendant. +Helene followed him. “Winter Garden,” she directed, and the machine sped +away, while the thwarted driver in the rear sent a volley of anathemas +after his successful competitor. + +Shirley scrutinized the interior of the machine, but there seemed +nothing to distinguish it from the thousands of other piratical craft +which pillage the public with the aid of the taximeter clock on the +port beam! Soon they were at the big Broadway playhouse, where Shirley +floundered out first, after the ungallant manner of many sere-and-yellow +beaux. He swayed unsteadily, teetering on his cane, as Helene leaped +lightly to the sidewalk beside him. The driver stood by the door of the +car, leering at him. + +“Here, keep the change,” and Shirley handed him a generous bill. + +“Shall I wait fer ye, gov'nor? I ain't got no call to-night. I'll be +around here all evening.” + +The criminologist nodded, and the chauffeur handed Helene the carriage +number check. + +“Don't let 'em steal de old gink, inside, girlie. He's strong fer de +chorus chickens.” + +Helene shuddered before the hawk-like glare of his malevolent eyes, but +in her part, she shook her head with a laugh, and followed airily after +her escort. + +“Good-evening, sir. Back again to-night, I see,” volunteered the ticket +taker, to whom William Grimsby was a familiar visitant. Shirley reeled +with steadied and studied equilibrium, into the foyer of the theatre, +as he nodded. Their seats were purposely in the rear of a side box, well +protected from the audience by the holders of the front positions. The +criminologist appeared to relapse into dreams of bygone days, while his +companion peered into the vast audience and then at the nimble limbed +chorus on the stage with piquant curiosity. + +“For years I wanted to see an American stage and an American audience,” + she confided in an undertone, “and to think that when I do so, it is +acting myself, on the other side of the footlights in a stranger, more +dramatic part than any one else in the theatre. A curious world, isn't +it?” + +Shirley breathed deeply, drinking in the maddening perfume of her +glorious hair, so perilously near his own face. The shimmer of her +shoulders, the adorable curves of that enticing scarlet mouth murmuring +so near his own, and yet so far away, in this soul-racking game of +make-believe, stirred his blood as nothing else had done in all the +kalaediscopic years. + +“Yes, a more than curious world. How things have changed since last +evening when I planned a sleepy evening at the opera. I wonder what the +outcome will be?” + +Helene looked up at him quickly, then as suddenly toward the Russian +danseuse within the golden frame of the great proscenium. The orchestra, +with its maddening Slavic music, stirred her pulses with a strange +telepathy. The evening wore along, until the final curtain. Shirley, +with cumbersome effort helped her with her cloak, dropping his hat and +stick more than once in simulated awkwardness. The electric numerals of +the carriage call soon brought the grimy-faced chauffeur. + +“Jack on the spot, gov'nor, that's me!” and he swung the door open. + +“We'll go get some supper--no, we'll take little 'scursion in Central +Park, first,” and his voice was thick, “correct, cabbie. Drive us shru +Central Park.” + +“Are you going to take a chance in a dark park?” Helene asked him, +as they sat within the car, while the chauffeur cranked. Shirley was +sharply observing the man. A pedestrian crossed directly in front of the +machine, brushing against the driver, as he fumbled with the lamp. If +there were an interchange of words, the criminologist could not detect +it. + +“Surely. The park is good. We can be free of interference from the +police. Are you afraid?” + +“No--” yet, it was a pardonably weak little voice which uttered the +valiant monosyllable. + +“Here, Miss Marigold. Take this revolver. Don't use it until you have +to, but then don't hesitate a second.” + +The machine started slowly up the street. Shirley groped about the +sides and bottom of the car, to make sure that no one could be concealed +within it. They were advancing up Broadway in leisurely fashion. It +might have been for the purpose of allowing some to follow. Shirley +wondered, then sniffed the air suspiciously. The girl looked at him with +a silent question. + +“Quick, tear off your glove and let me have that diamond ring I noticed +on your finger, the large solitaire, not the dinner ring.” + +Unquestioningly she obeyed. There was a strange Oriental odor in the +car--suggestive of an incense. The car was gliding up Central Park West, +toward one of the road entrances into the Park proper. Shirley's hand +clutched the ring, tensely. The driver, tactfully looking straight to +the front, gave no heed to the occupants of the Death Car. He was, by +this time speeding too rapidly for either of his passengers to have +leaped out without injury. Shirley understood the smoothness of the +voice's system, by now. His hand slid to the top of the glass door pane, +on the right. Down the glass, across the bottom, down from the other +corner, and then over the top line, he cut with the diamond, using a +peculiar pressure. He rose to his feet, gave the lower part of the pane +a sharp tap. The glass, practically cut loose from its case, now +dropped and would have slid out to the roadway with a crash had he not +dexterously caught it, to draw it into the car. Quickly he repeated +the operation with the door pane at the left. A nauseating, weakening +something in the car sent Helene's head spinning; she choked for breath +and lay back weakly, despite her will. Shirley turned to the small glass +square in the rear. This came out more easily. He lay the glass with the +others, on the floor of the car. The good clear air whirled through the +openings, reviving the girl. + +“Keep your eyes open, and that revolver ready. Now is the time. Pretend +to sleep.” + +Shirley had drawn his own automatic by this time, and he realized that +the machine was slowing down. The chauffeur, as they passed a walk +light, looked back, observing that the two were apparently unconscious. +He slowed down still more, and tooted his horn three times. A large +touring car passed them, to stop some distance ahead. Then it sped on, +as Shirley's taxi followed lazily. + +A figure suddenly came out of the darkness of the road. The driver +stopped the taxi, and walked around the front, as though to adjust the +lamp. The door opened slowly. A face covered with a black handkerchief +obtruded. A hand slid up the detective's knee, along his side toward the +abdomen, and a protruding thumb began a singular pressure directly below +the criminologist's heart. Shirley's analysis for Dr. MacDonald had been +correct! But jiu-jitsu is essentially a game for two. + +Shirley's left hand suddenly shot forth to the neck of his assailant. +His muscular fingers closed in a deft and vice-like pinch directly below +the silk handkerchief. It was the pneumogastric nerve, which he reached: +a nerve which, when deadened by Oriental skill, paralyzes the vocal +chords. Not a sound emanated from the mysterious man, even when +Shirley's right hand shot forward, under the chin of the other, for a +deft blow across the thorax. The other tumbled backward. + +“What's wrong, Chief? Too much gas?” cried the chauffeur rushing to +the side of the fallen man. As the driver dropped to his knees, Shirley +flung himself like a tiger upon the rascal's back. The struggle was +brief--the same silent silencer accomplished its purpose. Before the +man knew what had happened to him, he was dragged inside the car, and +another deft pinch sent him to oblivion! + +“Hit him over the forehead with the butt of the revolver if he opens his +mouth,” grunted Shirley. “This is the chauffeur, now I'll get the other +one.” + +Just then a cry came from the darkness: it was a passing patrolman. + +“What you doing in that auto?” + +But Shirley waited for no parley-explanations, showing his hand, laying +the whole scandal before the morning edition of the newspapers, were all +out of question now. He must take up the pursuit later. He caught up, +the chauffeur's cap, sprang into the driver's seat, and the car shot +forward like a race horse as he threw forward the lever. The astonished +policeman was within twenty-five yards of the spot, when the auto +disappeared in the darkness. He pursued it vainly. + +A few moments later, a man with a handkerchief across his face, groaned +and then raised himself on his elbow, there in the roadway. He could not +remember where he was, nor why. Slowly he crawled on hands and +knees, into the rhododendrons by the roadside, where he again lost +consciousness. + +A big touring car rounded the curve of the roadway. + +“Not a sign of the Chief,” said the driver. “He must have gone back to +the garage with the Monk. But that's a fool idea. Let's get down there +right away.” + +The injured man's memory returned, and he rose stiffly to his feet. +He limped out of the Park, putting away the handkerchief, muttering +profanity and trying to fathom the mystery. As nearly as he could reason +it out, he must have been struck by another machine from the rear. + +Far up in the northernmost driveway of the Park, where shrub grown banks +and rocky uplands shelter the thoroughfares, Shirley stopped his runaway +taxicab. + +“Let me have his rubber coat, for I'm going to hide this car out on Long +Island. It's a long ride, but this man and his machine will disappear as +completely as though they had been dumped in the ocean.” + +Shirley manacled the prisoner, and gagged him with a tightly knotted +handkerchief. He put the greatcoat of Grimsby's about Helene's +shoulders, as he brought her to the front seat of the machine. Then he +shut the doors on the prisoner, and drove the automobile out through the +Easterly entrance of the park. + +“I'm not really brave, Mr. Montague,” said the tired voice at his side. +“I'm so glad I'm sitting by you, instead of back inside. We will be home +soon, won't we? I'm so exhausted--my first day in a strange country, you +know.” + +Shirley, with the skill of a racing expert, guided the machine through +the maze of streets toward the Bridge over the East River. The touch of +that sweet shoulder, as it unconsciously nestled against his own, sent +through him a tremor which he had not experienced during the weird +silent battle in the dark. + +“A strange night, in a strange country. Are you sorry you tried it?” + +With a sidelong glance, he caught the starry light in her eyes as she +looked up at him: there seemed more than the mere reflection of passing +street lamps. + +“A wonderful night: I'm glad, so glad, not sorry,” was her dreamy +response. She lapsed into silence as the somnolent drone of the motor +and the whirr of the wheels caused the tired eyes to close sleepily. + +When he looked at her again, as they were speeding down the bridge +Plaza in Long Island City, she was dozing. The drowsy head touched +his shoulder; she seemed like a child, worn out with games, trustingly +asleep in the care of a big, strong brother. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. A TURN IN THE TRAIL + + +Helene was still asleep when Shirley stopped the engine of the taxi +before a stately Colonial mansion seated back among the pines of a +beautiful Long Island estate. They had been driving for more than an +hour. The girl stirred languorously as he strove to awaken her. She +murmured drowsily: + +“No, Jack, dear. Emphatically no. Let's not talk about it any more, dear +boy.” + +“Who can Jack be?” and a surprising pang shot through Montague Shirley's +heart. “Jack, dear! Well, and what's it my business. She is a stranger. +She lives her life and I mine. But, at any rate, that settles some silly +things I've been thinking. I'm less awake than she is.” + +This time he tried with better success, and Helene rubbed her eyes, with +hands stiffened by the brisk bite of the chill wind. She gazed at the +dimly lit house, at the big figure beside her, as Shirley sprang to the +ground--then remembered it all, and trembled despite herself. + +“Oh, it's you, Mr. Shirley,” and she summoned up a little throaty laugh, +as she arose stiffly. “What a queer place to be in!” + +“We are a long way from New York's white lights, Miss Marigold. This is +the country home of a good old friend of mine. You can remain here for +the rest of the night, as his wife's guest. To-morrow, when you are +rested, he can send you to the city in one of his cars.” + +“You are the most curious man in two continents. I am bewildered. First, +you kidnap a chauffeur and privateer his car, then me. Now you besiege a +friend and wish to leave me on his doorstep as a foundling.” + +“I'm sorry--it's the exigency of war! We must finish what we started. +This is the only place I know where I could thoroughly hide my trail. We +must wake up Jim, but first I will have a look at our guest.” + +Shirley walked around the car, shooting the beam from his pocket +flashlight in through the open window of the taxi, to be met by +the wicked black eyes of his prisoner, who uttered volumes of +unpronounceable hatred. + +“You are still with us, little bright eyes. A pleasant trip, I trust? I +hope you found the air good--I tried to improve the ventilation for your +benefit, as well as my own.” Only a subdued gurgle answered him. + +“Oh, what will they think of me--in this immodest gown, with this paint +on my face, and at this hour of night?” pleaded Helene, as he started +toward the door of the mansion. + +“It would be awful at that,” and Shirley paused at the beseeching tone +of the girl. “I want you to meet Mrs. Jim as well as Jim. I am afraid +they would think this was the echo of an old college escapade, and +misjudge you. Let me think--” + +He led her to a little summer-house close by, and tucked the big coat +about her as he added: “It's dark here--the wind doesn't reach you, and +I'll take you back to town in five minutes. Will that do?” + +As she nodded, he hurried to the door where he yanked vigorously at the +bell. An angry head protruded from an upper story, after many encores of +the peals. + +“Aw, what the dickens? Go some place else and find out!” + +“Jim, Jim. It's Monty! Come down and let me in quick.” + +The window closed with a bang as the head was withdrawn, while a light +soon appeared in the beveled panes of the big front door. + +“You poor boob,” was the cheerful greeting as it swung wide, “What +brings you out here? I thought it was the usual joy party which had lost +its way. They always pick me out for an information bureau. Come on in!” + +Shirley spoke rapidly, in a low tone. The girl in the dark summer-house +marveled at the rapid change of mien, as Jim suddenly ran down the steps +to gaze into the taxicab, then nodding to Shirley. The house-holder +as promptly returned through his front door, while Shirley swiftly +unmanacled the prisoner enough to let him walk, stiff and awkward from +the long ordeal in the car. The stern grip, of his captor prompted +obedience. + +Friend Jim had appeared with warmer garments, carrying a lantern. At the +door of the stable Jim's stentorian yell to the groom seemed useless, +but the two men entered. Helene felt miserably weak and deserted, in +the chill night, but she was cheered by seeing the energetic Shirley +reappear, pushing open the doors of the garage, which was connected with +the stable. He hurried to the deserted taxicab, where he seemed busied +for several minutes, the glow of his pocket lamp shooting out now and +then. Through the door of the garage a long, rakish-looking racing car +was being pushed out by Jim and his sleepy groom. There was a cheery +shout from the taxi, and Helene heard a ripping sound. Shirley +reappeared, carrying an oblong box. + +“I have the gas generator:--it was built in, under the seat, and +controlled by a battery wire from the front lamp, Jim. A nice little +mechanism. Well, old pal, please apologize to Mrs. Merrivale for my rude +interruption of her beauty sleep. Keep a fatherly eye on Gentleman Mike, +and the taxicab under cover. I'll communicate with you very soon. So +long.” + +To Helene's amazement, Shirley cranked the racer, jumped in and seemed +to be starting away without her, down the sweep of the driveway. Could +he have forgotten her? The man must indeed be mad, as some of his +actions indicated! But her aroused indignation was turned to admiration +of his finesse, for suddenly he veered the lights of the car toward +the garage door, throwing them in the faces of Jim and his servant. He +leaped out again, walking past the place of concealment. + +“Slip into the car, while I go inside with them. I'll come out on the +run, and no one will be the wiser.” + +With this passing stage direction he rushed toward his accomodating +friend, with some final directions. They were apparently humorous in +content, for both the other men roared with mirth, as he walked inside +the building, with them, an arm around the shoulder of each. Helene +obeyed him, hiding as best she could in the low seat of the throbbing +machine. As Shirley returned, Jim Merrivale was still laughing blithely. + +“Good-bye, you old maniac: you'll be the death of me. I'll take care of +the star boarder, however, and feed him champagne and mushrooms.” + +With a roar, Shirley started the engines, as he bounced into the seat, +and they sped down the curving driveway, with Helene leaning forward, +unobserved. + +“There, we've had a little by-play that friend Jim didn't guess. I +always enjoy a little intrigue,” he laughed, as they whizzed along +toward distant New York. “But, I had to lie, and lie, and lie--like the +light that lies in women's eyes. What a jolly game!” + +He was a big boy, happy in the excitement, and bubbling with his +superabundance of vitality. Helene felt curiously drawn toward him, in +this mood: she remembered a little paragraph she had read in a book that +day: + +“A woman loves a man for the boy spirit that she discovers in him: she +loves him out of pity when it dies!” Then she fearsomely changed the +current of her thoughts, to complain pathetically of the cold wind! + +“There, now, I am so thoughtless,” was his apology, as he stopped +the car, to wrap the overcoat more closely about her, and tuck her +comfortably in a big fur. Through the darkened streets of the suburb +they raced, entering the silent factory districts, which presaged the +nearness of the river. It was well on toward daybreak before they rolled +over the Queensboro Bridge to Manhattan. It was his second day without +sleep, but Shirley was sustained by the bizarre nature of the exploit: +he could have kept at the steering wheel for an eternity. + +“Are you glad we're getting back?” he asked. Helene shook her head, then +she answered dreamily. + +“Do you remember something from one of Browning's poems, that I do? It's +just silly for us, but I understand it better now.” + +Shirley surprised her by quoting it, as he looked ahead into the dark +street through which they swung, his unswerving hand steady on the +wheel: + + “What if we still ride on, we two, + With life forever old yet new, + Changed not in kind, but in degree, + The instant made eternity,-- + And heaven just prove that I and she + Ride, ride together, forever ride?” + +A quick flush, not caused by the biting wind, suffused her cheek beneath +the remnants of the rouge. Then she laughed up at him appreciatively. + +“Curious how our minds ran that way, and hit the very same poem, wasn't +it?” + +Shirley smiled back, as he swung down Fifth Avenue. + +“Not so curious after all!” + +Soon they drew up before the ornate portal of the California Hotel, +where late arrivals were so customary as to cause no comment. He bade +her good-night, words seeming futile after their long hours together. +The drive in the car to the club was short. Paddy the door man was +instructed to send down to Shirley's own garage for a mechanic to store +the car until further orders. The criminologist had ere this rubbed off +his grease paint, so that his appearance was not unusual. Once in his +rooms he treated himself to a piping hot shower, cleaned off the powder +from his dark locks, and as he smoked a soothing cigarette, in his +bathrobe, studied the mechanism of the gas generator for a few moments. + +“That was made by an expert who understands infernal machines with a +malevolent genius. I must look out for him,” he mused. “Well, I promised +Professor MacDonald that I would not sleep until I had come face to face +with the voice. I have fulfilled the vow: now for forgetfulness.” + +He tumbled into bed, but not to oblivion. For his dreams were disturbed +by tantalizing visions of certain sun-gold locks and blue eyes not at +all in their simple connection with the business end of the Van Cleft +mystery. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. THE HAND OF THE VOICE + + +It took stoicism to the Nth degree for Shirley to respond to the early +telephone call next morning, from the clerk of the club. A few minutes +of violent exercise, in the hand ball court, the plunge, a short swim in +the natatorium and a rub down from the Swedish masseur, however, brought +him around to the mood for another adventure. Sending for the racing +car he began the round-up of details. There was, first of all, Captain +Cronin to be visited in Bellevue. Here he was agreeably surprised to +find the detective chief recuperating with the abettance of his rugged +Celtic physique. The nurse told Shirley that another day's treatment +would allow the Captain to return to his own home: Shirley knew this +meant the executive office of the Holland Detective Agency. + +“And sure, Monty, when I have a free foot once again, I'm going to apply +it to them gangsters who put me to sleep.” + +“Just what I want you to do, Captain! I 'phoned to your men this morning +while I had breakfast at the club: they have that taxicab which was left +near Van Cleft's house. It's put away safely, Cleary said. There are two +gangsters where the dogs won't bite them; today they are sending out to +Jim Merrivale's house to get the third and he'll be busy with a little +private third degree. I have no evidence which would connect the man +who tried to kill me last night with the other murders, except in a +circumstantial way. What I must do is to follow up the trail, and get +the gentleman carrying out the bales, in other words, with the goods on +him.” + +“You'll get him, Monty, if I know you. The fellow hasn't called up at +all on the telephone to-day. I think he's afraid of you.” + +“No, Captain Cronin, not that! He's up to some new game. Well, I'm +off--take care of yourself and don't eat anything the nurse doesn't +bring you with her own hands. I wouldn't put anything past this gang.” + +He shook hands and hurried out of the hospital, with several more +errands to complete. He looked vainly about him for the gray racing-car. +It was gone! Here was another unexpected interference with his work, and +Shirley, sotto voce, expressed himself more practically than politely. +He hurried to an ambulance driver who stood in a doorway, solacing his +jangled nerves with a corn-cob smoke. + +“Neighbor, did you see any one take the gray car standing here a few +minutes ago?” + +“Yep, a feller just came out of the hospital entry, cranked her and +jumped in.” + +“How long ago?” + +“Well, I just returned with a suicide actor case five minutes ago.” + +“Then you might have seen him enter first?” + +“Nope. Not a sign. All I seen was the way he cranked the machine, and +he didn't waste any elbow grease doin' it, either. He knew the trick. +That's what I thought when I seen him, even if he did look like a dude.” + +Shirley hurried to the entry once more. This was the only portal through +which visitors were admitted to the hospital for the purpose of calling +on patients. He hastened to the uniformed attendant who took down the +names of all applicants. This man, upon inquiry, was a trifle dubious. +True, there had been two Italian women and before them--yes, there had +been a young chap with a green velour hat, and white spats. He had asked +about a Captain Cronin, and when told that a visitor was already seeing +the patient, agreed to wait outside. It had been about five minutes +before. The man was indefinite about more details. Shirley hurried to +the telephone booth in the corridor. To Headquarters he reported the +theft of car “99835 N.Y.,” giving a description of its special features +and its make. This warning he knew would be telephoned to all stations +within five minutes, so that every policeman in New York would be on +the lookout for the missing machine. Satisfied, he left the hospital, to +walk across the long block to the nearest north and south avenue, where +he might catch a surface car. + +Suddenly he halted, to mutter in astonishment at a sight which was the +surprise of the morning: it was the missing car standing peacefully on +the next corner. + +“I wonder what that means?” he murmured, as he stopped to study with +great interest the window of an Italian green grocer. A sidelong glance +at the car and its surroundings revealed nothing out of the way. He +retraced his steps to the hospital, wasted ten minutes with a cigarette +or two, and still no one seemed to take an interest in the automobile. +Finally he walked up to the car, trying the lock of which he had the +only key. Apparently it had been untampered with, for the key worked +perfectly. Here was Jim Merrivale's car, a good three hundred yards away +from the place where he had locked it to prevent any moving. He felt +certain that keen eyes had him under surveillance, yet he could not +observe any observers within the range of his own vision. It was simply +a stupid, quiet slum neighborhood and at the time, unusually deserted by +the customary hordes of children and dogs! + +What had been the purpose in moving it such a short distance? + +Where had it been in the twenty-five minutes since he had left it at the +entrance to the hospital? + +Why had it been left here, of all places, where he would naturally walk +if desirous of taking a street-car? + +There seemed no immediate answer to the conundrums. So, he nonchalantly +clambered into the car, after cranking it. The mechanism seemed in +perfect order. Puzzled, he started to speed up the street, when he +observed a white envelope close by his foot, on the floor of the car. + +He picked it up, and tearing it open quickly read this simple message. + +“To whom it may concern: It is frequently advisable to mind your own +business--is it not? Answer: Yes!” + +“Huh,” grunted Shirley. “While not thrilling in originality, it is a +lasting truth which nobody can deny. I'll save this and frame it on the +walls of my rooms.” + +As he drove around the corner and up the Avenue, there was suddenly a +terrific explosion, which threw him completely out of the machine! +The car, without a driver, its engines whirring madly, dashed into a +helpless corner fruit stand, scattering oranges, bananas, apples and +desolation in its wake, as it vainly endeavored to climb to the second +story with super-mechanical intelligence! Shirley, stunned and bruised, +fell to the pavement where he lay until an excited patrolman rushed to +his rescue. + +A little “first aid” work brought Shirley back to consciousness, and he +stiffly rose to his feet, with a head throbbing too much for any real +thinking. + +“What's the matter with your auto?” cried the policeman. “Can't you run +it? Let's see the number.” The officer took out his notebook, to jot +down the details according to police rules. Then he turned on Shirley in +amazement. “Be gorry, it's car 99835 N.Y. I just wrote the number down +when I came on post with my squad! This car is stolen. You come with +me!” + +Shirley had been adjusting the mechanism, and the wheels had ceased +their whirring. He tried to expostulate in a dazed way, realizing that +for once the department was working with a vengeful promptness. He was +hoist by his own petard! + +“I'm the owner of the car,” he began, rubbing his aching forehead. + +“What's yer name?” + +“Montague Shirley!” The policeman laughed, as he caught the +criminologist by the shoulder, and blew his whistle for another man from +post duty. + +“You lie. This car is owned by James Merrivale. You can't put over +raw stuff like that on me. I'm no rookie--Here, Joe,” (as the other +policeman ran up through the growing, jeering crowd,) “watch this +machine. This guy's one of them auto Raffles, and I done a good job when +I lands him. I'm going to the station-house now.” + +The other policeman was examining the car, when he called to his fellow +officer: “Here, Sim, did you see this car was blown up inside the seat?” + +Shirley, his acuteness returned by this time, ran to the car eluding his +captor's hold. He had not observed before the jagged shattered hole torn +in the side of the leather side. It had all happened so swiftly, that +his professional instincts were slow in reasserting themselves after the +“buck” of the car. + +“You're right,” he exclaimed. “There's an alarm clock and a dry +battery--the same man made this who built the gas-generator--” + +“Whadd'ye mean--ain't you the feller after all?” asked the first +patrolman, beginning to get dubious about his arrest. + +“No, I am no thief. But just take me to the station-house quick, and +turn in your report. Let this other man guard that car. Hurry up!” + +“Say, feller, who do you think is making this arrest? You'll go to the +station-house when I get ready.” + +“Then you're ready now,” snapped the criminologist. “You'll see me +discharged very promptly, when I speak to the Commissioner over the +wire.” + +The officer was supercilious until the station-house was reached. He +had heard this blatant talk before. What was his surprise when Shirley +telephoned to the head of the Department and then called the Captain to +the instrument. + +“Release Mr. Shirley at once,” was the crisp order. “Give him any men or +assistance he needs.” + +“Well, whadd'ye know about that? Not even entered on the blotter to +credit me with a good arrest!” The patrolman turned away in disgust. + +“Do you want any of the reserves, sir?” The Captain was scrupulously +polite. + +“Not one. I'm going to study that machine again. You might detail a +plain clothes man to walk along the other side of the street for luck. +Good-day.” + +The automobile to which he returned was still the object of community +interest. Shirley took the remains of the bomb which had caused his +sudden elevation. The policeman approached him from the fruit store. + +“The man wants damages for the stock you destroyed, mister. I'll fix it +up with him if you want--about twenty-five dollars will do.” + +“Well, hand him this five-dollar bill and see if that won't dry some of +the imported tears,” retorted Shirley with a laugh. In a few minutes he +was bowling along on a surface car, to the club. There was no longer any +use in trying to hide his identity or address, for the conspirators knew +at least of his interest and assistance in the case: although in this as +all others he was not known to be a professional sleuth. + +In the quiet of his room he drew out magnifying glasses and other +instruments for a thorough analysis of the remains of the infernal +machine. He compared this with the mechanism of the gas-generator which +had been placed in the seat of the Death taxi. There was evidence that +it had come from the same source. Shirley sniffed at the generator and +the peculiar odor still clinging to it was familiar. + +“Well, I think I will have a little surprise for Mr. Voice, the next +time we grapple, which will be an encore of his own tune, with a new +verse!” + +He went to a cabinet, took out a small glass vial, filled with a limpid +liquid and placed it within his own pocket. Then he prepared for a new +line of activities for the day. His first duty was a call on Pat Cleary, +superintendent of the Holland Agency. + +“The Captain is progressing splendidly,” was his answer to the anxious +query. “He will be back in the harness again to-morrow. How are the +prisoners?” + +“They have tried to break out twice and gave my doorman a black eye. But +they got four in return: Nick is no mollycoddle, you know. I can't quite +get the number of these fellows, for they are not registered down at +Headquarters, in the Rogue's Gallery. Their finger-prints are new ones +in this district, too. They look like imported birds, Mr. Shirley. What +do you think?” + +Cleary's opinion of the club man had been gaining in ascendency. + +“They may be visitors from another city, but I think the state will keep +them here as guests for a nice long time, Cleary. They say New York is +inhospitable to strangers, but we occasionally pay for board and room +from the funds of the taxpayers without a kick. We saved the day for the +Van Clefts, all right. The paper told of a beautiful but quiet funeral +ceremony, while the daughter has postponed her marriage for six months.” + +Then he recounted the adventure of the exploding car. Cleary lit his +malodorous pipe, and shook his head thoughtfully. + +“Young man, you know your own affairs best. But with all your money, +you'd better take to the tall pines yourself, like these old guys in +the 'Lobster Club.' That's the advice of a man who's in the business for +money not glory. This is a bum game. They'll get me some day, some of +these yeggs or bunk artists that I've sent away for recuperation, as +the doctors call it. But I'm doing it for bread and beefsteak, while it +lasts. You run along and play--a good way from the fire, or you'll get +more than your fingers burnt. Take their hint and beat it while the +beating's good.” + +A glint of steel shone from the eyes of the criminologist as he lit +another cigarette and took up his walking-stick. + +“Why, Cleary, this is what I call real sport. Why go hunting polar bears +and tigers when we've got all this human game around the Gold Coast of +Manhattan? I'm tired of furs: I want a few scalps. Good-morning.” + +As Cleary went up the stairway to renew the ginger of the Third Degree +for the two prisoners, he smiled to himself, and muttered: + +“The guy ain't such a boob as he looks: he's just a high-class nut. I'd +enjoy it myself if it wasn't my regular work.” + +At Dick Holloway's office Shirley was greeted with an eager demand for +his report of the former evening's activities. An envious look was on +the face of the theatrical manager. + +“Shucks, Monty! It's a shame that all this sport is private stock, and +can't be bottled up and peddled to the public, for they're just crazy +about gangster melodrama. They're paying opera prices for the old time +ten-twent-and-thirt-melodrama, right on Broadway. Hurry up and get the +man and I'll have him dramatized while the craze is rampant.” + +“Not while I own the copyright,” retorted Shirley, “this is one of the +chapters of my life that isn't going to be typewritten, much less the +subject of gate-receipts.” + +“I'm not so certain of that,” and Holloway's smile was quizzical. + +“What do you mean? Who is this Helene Marigold? I have a right to know +in a case like this.” + +“Good intuition, as far as you go. But you're guessing wrong, for she +has nothing to do with my little joke. But why worry about her?” laughed +Holloway. His friend had leaned forward, intensely, clutching his cane, +with an unusually serious look on his face. Holloway had never seen +Shirley take such an interest in any woman before. He arose from +his desk-chair and walked to the broad window, which overlooked the +thronging sidewalks of Broadway. + +“Down there is the biggest, busiest street in the world filled with +women of all hues and shades. This is the first time you ever looked so +anxious about any combination of lace, curls, silks and gew-gaws before. +You have been the bright and shining example of indifferent bachelor +freedom which has made me--thrice divorced--so envious of your +unalloyed, unalimonied joy. Don't betray the feet of clay which have +supported my idol!” + +The baffling smile of the debonair club man returned to Shirley's face, +as he twitted back: “Purely an altruistic inquiry, Dick. I feared that +you might be risking your own heart and the modicum of freedom which you +still possess. But I'll wager a supper-party for four that I'll find out +who she is, without either you or she telling me.” + +“Taken. At last I'm to have a free banquet, after years of business +entertaining. You have met a girl who will match your wits--I expect the +sparks to fly. Well, she's worth while--I might do worse--but in perfect +fairness she ought to do better. How about it?” + +“Yes, with Jack,” and Shirley tapped the walking stick on the floor with +an emphatic thump, while Holloway regarded him in startled surprise. + +“Who is Jack?” + +“You see--I am learning already. But, you and I are drifting from my +task. I wish that you would take me to call on Miss Marigold, in my +present lack of disguise. I do not care for that ancient garb any +longer. It was stretching the chances rather far, but thanks to the +darkness, the champagne, and good fortune, I succeeded in impersonating +our aged friend without detection. I will not return to Grimsby's house, +but propose now to get down to brass tacks with Mr. Voice, even though +the tacks be hard to sit upon. I wish to use her as a bait, by taking +her out to tea and getting a first-hand speaking acquaintance with these +convivial assassins.” + +“Monty, you are wasting your talents outside the pages of a play +manuscript, but we will make that call instanter.” + +In leisure, they promenaded up the crowded Gay Wide Way, through the +noontime crowd of theatrical folk who dot the thoroughfare in this part +of the city. His adversaries were to have every opportunity to observe +his movements and draw their own conclusions. At the Hotel California +new comment buzzed between the garrulous clerk and the switchboard +person, at sight of the well-known manager and his prosperous-looking +companion. + +“Who is that come on?” asked the clerk of the bellboy. + +“Sure, dat's Montague Shirley, one of dem rich ginks from de College +Club on Forty-fourth Street, where I used to woik in de check room. If I +had dat guy's money I'd buy a hotel like dis.” + +“Then I see where Holloway, with that blonde dame upstairs, will be +putting on a new musical show, with a new angel. It's a great business, +Miss Gwendolyn--no wonder they call it art.” And the clerk removed a +silk handkerchief from his coat cuff, to dust the register wistfully. +“Why didn't I devote my talents to the drama instead of room-keys and +due-bills?” + +But Miss Gwendolyn was too busy talking to the Milwaukee drummer in Room +72 to formulate a logical reason. Shirley and Holloway improved the time +by taking the elevator to the top floor where Helene greeted them at the +door of her pretty apartment. She welcomed them happily, declaring it +had been a lonesome morning. + +“Weren't you resting from that long thrill of last night, in which you +starred?” asked Holloway. + +“It was too thrilling for me to sleep: I know I look a perfect frump, +this morning. I tossed on the pillow, watching the dawn over your +towering New York roofs, so nervous and almost miserable. But, with +company, it's all right again.” + +Holloway laughed inwardly at the warmth of the glance which she bestowed +upon Shirley. From the angle of an audience, he was beginning to observe +a phase of this double play of personalities which was unseen by either +of the participants. Two sleepless nights, after such a first evening +together, and what then? He imagined the denouement, with a growing +enjoyment of his vantage-point as the game advanced. + +“To-day, I am reversing the usual progress of history,” said Shirley, as +he sat down in the window-seat. “From second juvenility I am returning +to the first. In other words, I wish to become your adoring suitor in +the role of Montague Shirley.” + +“I don't understand,” and her eyes widened in wonder, not without an +accompanying blush which did not escape Holloway. + +“No longer a lamb in sheep's clothing, I want to entertain you, without +the halo of William Grimsby's millions. I want to take tea with these +gentle-voiced cut-throats, who after my warning to-day, are directing +their attention to me.” He narrated the narrow escape from death in +the racing-car. Helene's eyes darkened with an uncertainty which he had +hardly expected. Perhaps she would refuse to carry out their compact +along these dangerous lines. + +“Do you feel it wise to place yourself beneath this new menace?” + +“The sword of Damocles is over me now, I know. To run would be a +confession of weakness and open the field for his further activities, +with the rear-guard continuously exposed. There is nothing like the +personal equation. I will call at five this afternoon, if you are +willing, Miss Marigold?” + +“I will fight it out to the end,” and she placed her warm hand firmly +within his own. The two friends departed, Shirley retracing his steps to +the club where many things were to be studied and planned. His system +of debit and credit records of facts known and needed, was one which +brought finite results. As he smoked and pondered at his ease, a tapping +on the study door aroused him from his vagrant speculations. At his +call, a respectful Japanese servant presented a note, just left by a +messenger-boy. He tore the envelope and read it. + +“Montague Shirley:--The third time is finis. As a friend you +accomplished the purpose you sought. There is no grudge against you. +Why seek one? It is fatal for you to remain in the city. Leave while you +have time.” + +That was all. The chirography was the same as that upon the note of the +racing-car episode. Shirley locked up the missive in his cabinet, and +smiled at the increasing tenseness of the situation. + +“The writer of these two notes may have an opportunity to leave town +himself before long, to rest his nerves in the quiet valley of the +Hudson, at Ossining. My friend the enemy will soon be realizing a +deficit in his rolling-stock and gentlemanly assistants. Two automobiles +and three prisoners to date. There should be additional results before +midnight. I wonder where he gardens into fruition these flowers of +crime?” + +And even as he pondered, a curious scene was being enacted within a +dozen city blocks of the commodious club house. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. THE SPIDER'S WEB + + +The setting was a bleak and musty cellar, beneath an old stable of +dingy, brick construction. The building had been modernized to the +extent of one single decoration on the street front, an electric sign: +“Garage.” On the floor, level with the sidewalk, stood half a dozen +automobiles of varied manufacture and age. Near the wide swinging +doors of oak, stood a big, black limousine. Two taxicabs of the usual +appearance occupied the space next to this, while a handsome machine +faced them on the opposite side of the room. Two ancient machines were +backed against the wall, in the rear. + +In the basement beneath, several men were grouped in the front +compartment, which was separated by a thick wooden partition from the +rear of the cellar. Three dusty incandescents illuminated this space. In +the back a curious arrangement of two large automobile headlights set on +deal tables directed glaring rays toward the one door of the partition. +In the center of the rear room was another table, standing behind a +screen of wire gauze, at the bottom of which was cut a small semicircle, +large enough for the protrusion of a white, tense hand, whose fingers +were even now spasmodically clenching in nervous indication of fury. +Behind either lamp was a heavy black screen, which effectually shut off +ingress to that portion of the room. + +The man standing between the table and the closed door of the partition, +full in the light of the lamps, watched the hand as though fascinated. +He could see nothing else, for behind the gauze all was darkness. +Absolutely invisible, sat the possessor of the hand, observing the face +of his interviewer, on the brighter side of the gauze. + +“So, there's no word from the Monk?” + +“No, chief. De bloke's disappeared. Either he got so much swag offen dis +old Grimsby guy, after youse got de bumps, or he had cold feet and beat +it wid de machine.” + +“It's a crooked game on me.” rasped the voice behind the screen. “I'll +send him up for this. You know how far my lines go out. What about Dutch +Jake and Ben the Bite?” + +The man before the screen shook his head in helpless bewilderment There +was a suggestion of fright in his manner, as well. + +“Can't find out a t'ing, gov'nor. I hopes you don't blame me for dis. +I'm doin' my share. Dey just disappears dat night w'en you sends 'em to +shadder Van Cleft's joint. My calcerlation is--” + +“I'm not paying you to calculate. I've trusted you and lost six thousand +dollars' worth of automobiles for my pains. You can just calculate this, +that unless I get some news about Jake, Ben and the Monk by this time +tomorrow, I'll send some news down to Police headquarters on Lafayette +Street that will make you wish you had never been born.” + +For some reason not difficult to guess, the suggestion had a galvanic +effect on the bewildered one. His hands trembled as he raised them +imploringly to the screen. + +“Oh, gov'nor, wot have I done? Ain't I been on de level wid yez? Say, +I ain't never even seen yez for de fourteen months I've been yer +gobetween. I've been beat up by de cops, pinched and sent to de +workhouse 'cause I wouldn't squeal, and now ye t'reatens me. Did I ever +fall down on a trick ontil dis week? You'se ain't goin' ter welch on me, +are you'se? I ain't no welcher meself, an' ye knows it.” + +The other snapped out curtly: “Very well, cut out the sob stuff. It's +up to you to prove that there hasn't been a leak somewhere or a double +cross. Send in those rummies,--I want to give them the once over again. +There's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, and I'm no abolitionist! +Quick now. Get a wiggle on.” + +The hand was withdrawn from the little opening, as the lieutenant +advanced into the front compartment of the cellar. He beckoned meaningly +to the others to follow him. They obeyed with a slinking walk, which +showed that they were obsessed by some great dread, in that unseen +presence, in the heart of the spider-web! + +“Which one of you is the stool pigeon,” came the harsh query. + +“W'y, gov'nor, none of us. You'se knows us,” whined one of the men. + +“Yes, and I know enough to send you all to Atlanta or Sing Sing or +Danamora, for the rest of your rotten lives, if I want to.” + +The rascals stared vainly into the black vacuum of the screen, blinking +in the glaring lights, cowering instinctively before the unseen but +certain malignancy of the power behind that mysterious wall. + +“I brought you here to New York,” continued the master, “you are making +more money with less work and risk than ever before. But you're playing +false with me, and I know some one is slipping information where it +oughtn't to go. I'm going to skin alive the one who I catch. There's one +eye that never sleeps, don't forget that.” + +“Gee, boss, wot do we know to slip?” advanced the most forward of them. +“We follers orders, and gets our kale and dat's all. We ain't never +even seen ya, and don't know even wot de whole game is. Don't queer us, +gov'nor!” + +“Go out front again, and shut off this blab. I warn you that's all-Now, +Phil, give this to the men. Tell them to keep off the cocaine--they're +getting to be a lot of bone heads lately. Too much dope will spoil the +best crook in the world.” + +The white hand passed out a roll of crisp, new currency to the +lieutenant of the gang, who gingerly reached for it, as though he +expected the tapering fingers to claw him. + +“Fifty dollars to each man. No holding out. Remember, every one of them +is spying on the other to me. I'm not a Rip Van Winkle. Now, I want +you to keep this fellow Montague Shirley covered but don't put him away +until I give you the word. Send the bunch upstairs, for I don't want to +be disturbed the next two hours. And just keep off the coke yourself. +You're scratching your face a good deal these days--I know the signs.” + +Phil expostulated nervously. “Oh, gov'nor, I ain't no fiend--just once +and a while I gets a little rummy, and brightens up. It takes too much +money to git it now, anyway. Goodbye, chief.” + +As he closed the wooden door to pay the gangsters, there was a +slight grating noise, which followed a double click. A bar of wood +automatically slid down into position behind the door, blocking a +possible opening from the front of the cellar. The lights suddenly were +darkened. The sound of shuffling feet would have indicated to a listener +that the owner of the nervous hand was retreating to the rear of the +darkened den. A noise resembling that of the turn of a rusty hinge +might have then been heard: there was a metallic clang, the rattle of a +sliding chain and the rear room was as empty as it was black! + +In the front room, after payment from the red-headed ruffian, Phil, the +men clambered in single file up a wooden ladder to the street level. +A trap-door was put into place and closed. Then the men began to shoot +“craps” for a readjustment of the spoils, with the result that Red Phil, +as his henchmen called him, was the smiling possessor of most of the +money, without the erstwhile necessity of “holding out.” + +Then the gangsters scattered to the nearby gin-shops to while away the +time before darkness should call for their evil activities. It was a +cheerful little assortment of desperadoes, yet in appearance they +did not differ from most of the habitues of New York garages, those +cesspools of urban criminality. + +From his club, Shirley telephoned Jim Merrivale in his downtown office, +purposely giving another name, as he addressed his friend--a pseudonym +upon which they had agreed during the night call. Shirley was suspicious +of all telephones, by this time, and his guarded inquiry gave no +possible clue to a wiretapping eavesdropper. + +“How is the new bull-dog?” was the question, after the first guarded +greeting. “Is he still muzzled?” + +“Yes, Mr. Smith,” responded Merrivale, “and the meanest specimen I have +ever seen outside a Zoo! When I sent the groom out to feed him this +morning, he snarled and tried to claw him. He's on a hunger strike. I +looked up the license number on his collar but he's not registered in +this state.” (This, Shirley knew, meant the automobile tag under the +machine which had been captured.) + +“When are you apt to send for him--I don't think I'll keep him any +longer than I can help.” + +“I'll send out from the dog store, with a letter signed by me. Feed him +a little croton oil to cure his disposition. Good-bye, for now, Jim. +I'll write you, this day.” + +Shirley hung up, and smiled with satisfaction at the news. The man would +be glad to get bread and water, before long, he felt assured. However, +he despatched a note to Cleary, of the Holland Agency, enclosing a +written order to Merrivale to deliver over the prisoner, for safer +keeping in the city. + +This disposed of the started out from the club house for his afternoon +of dissipation. As he left the doorway, he noticed the two men with the +black caps standing not far away. They were engrossed in the rolling of +cigarettes, but the swift glance which they shot at him did not escape +Monty. + +“Like the poor and the bill collectors, they are always with us,” was +his thought, as he calmly strolled over to the Hotel California. He +determined to place them in a quiet, sheltered retreat at the earliest +opportunity. He found Helene more attractive than ever. + +“Shall I put on this wretched rouge again to-day,” was the plaintive +question, after the first greeting. “I hate it so--and yet, will do +whatever you order.” + +“Your role calls for it, my dear girl. Perhaps we may close the dramatic +engagement sooner than we expect. To-night should be an eventful one, +for I will accept every lead which Reginald Warren offers. I would like +to have a record of his voice, and that of some of his friends. There +is a difference between the telephone voice and that heard face to +face,--you would be a good witness if I could persuade him to sing or +speak for me into a record. You can straighten out the difficulties of +this case, if you will, in a thoroughly feminine manner.” + +“And what, sir, is that, I pray you?” + +“Give him the opportunity--to fall in love with you.” + +Helene's cheeks flushed a stronger carmine than the rouge which she was +administering, as she looked up in quick embarrassment. + +“I don't want him to love me. I want no man to love me,” was the +petulant answer. + +“Doubtless you have reason to be satisfied as things are,” replied +Shirley, puffing a cigarette, “but the softness of cerebral conditions +increases in direct ratio with the mushiness of the affections. If it +is important to us--and you are my partner in this fascinating business +venture--will you not sacrifice your emotions to that extent: merely +to let him lead himself on, as most men do?” He paused for a critical +observation of her, and then added: “You are even more beautiful to-day +than you were yesterday. He cannot help loving you if he is given the +chance!” + +Helene's white fingers crushed the orchid which she was pinning to the +bosom of her gown. Her intent gaze met the mask of Shirley's ingenuous +smile, reading in his telltale eyes a message which needed no court +interpreter! Quickly she turned to her mirror to put the finishing +touches to her coiffure, the golden curls so alluringly wilful. + +“Your flattery, sir, is very cruel. Beware! I may take it seriously. +What would happen if my verdant heart were to fall a victim to the +cunning wiles of the voice? Remember, I have only met two men, since I +came to America, yesterday. And they are both pronounced woman-haters. +I will take you at your word, about Mr. Reginald Warren, and loosen my +blandishments to the best of my rustic ability.” + +A wayward twinkle in her eyes should have warned Shirley that she was +planning a little mischief. But, he was too preoccupied in finding the +real front of her baffling street cloak to observe it. They left for +the tearoom, while Helene still laughed to herself over certain subtle +possibilities which she saw in the situation. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. A PILGRIMAGE INTO FRIVOLITY + + +Rather early, again, for the usual throng, they were able to choose +their position to their liking: to-day, it was in the center of the big +room, close by the space cleared for the dancing. Gradually the tables +were occupied, apparently by the identical people of the afternoon +before, so marked is the peculiar character of the dance-mad +individuality. To-day he varied his menu with a mild order of +cocktails--for now he was not emulating the Epicurean record of the +bibulous Grimsby. They observed with amusement the weird contortions, +seldom graced by a vestige of rhythm or beauty, with which the intent +dancers spun and zigzagged. + +“Considering how much money they pay to learn these steps from +dancing-masters, there is unusually small value in the market, Miss +Marigold. I resigned myself to the approach of the sunset years, and +became a voluntary exile in the garden of the wallflowers, when society +dancing became mathematical.” + +“I don't understand?” + +“Once it was possible to chat, to smile, to woo or to silently enjoy +the music and the measures of the dance in company with a sympathetic +partner. Now, however, since the triumph of the 'New Mode,' one must +count 'one-two-three,' and one's partner is more captious than a +schoolmarm! What puzzles me is the need for new steps, to be learned +from expensive teachers, when it's so easy to slide down hill in this +part of New York. But here endeth the sermon, for I recognize the +amiable Pinkie at that other table, where she is studying your face with +the malevolence of a cobra.” + +Helene slowly turned her eyes toward the other girl, who now advanced +with forced effusiveness. + +“Oh, my dear, and you're back again today. But where is dear old +Grimmie; he is a nice old soul, though a trifle near-sighted. He wasn't +half seas over last night--he was a war-zone submarine, out for a +long-distance record!” + +She impudently seated herself at the table with them, sending a +questioning glance at the handsome companion of her quondam rival. +Helene instinctively drew back, but a warning glance from Shirley +plunged her into her assumed character, and she greeted the other girl +with the quasi-comradeship of their class. + +“Oh, yes, dear. Grimsby was a little poisoned by the salad or something +like that: he was actually disagreeable with me, of all people in the +world. But, I have so many friends that Grimsby does not give me any +worry. He means nothing in my life. You seemed quite worried over him, +though--” + +“Yes, girlie,” was Pinkie's effort to parry. “I was upset--not because +he was with you, but to see the old chap showing his age. His taste has +deteriorated so much since he started wearing glasses. But why don't you +introduce me to your gentleman friend?” + +Helene's faint smile expressed volumes, as she turned toward the +modest Shirley with a bow of condescension. “This is Pinkie, one of old +Grimsby's sweethearts, Mr. Shirley. I'm sure you'll like her.” + +“Are you Montague Shirley?” demanded the auburn-haired coquette with +sudden interest. As Shirley nodded, she caught his hand with an ardent +glance, ogling him impressively, as she continued: “I've heard a lot of +you. I'm just that pleased to meet you!” + +An indefinable resentment crept over Helene. How could this creature +of the demi-monde have even distant acquaintance of such a wholesome, +superior man as her escort? The effusiveness was irritating, and the +overacted kittenishness of the girl made her sick at heart, although +she betrayed no sign of her feeling. Helene could not understand that +despite its mammoth size, New York is relatively provincial in the +club and theatrical community, his acquaintanceship numbering into +the thousands. Town Topics, the social gossipers of the newspapers and +talkative club men bandied names about in such wise that it was easy +for members of Pinkie's profession to satisfy their hopeful +curiosity--prompted by visions of eventual social conquest on the one +hand and a professional desire to memorize street numbers on the Wealth +Highway for ultimate financial manipulations. As one of the richest +members of the exclusive bachelor set, Montague Shirley, even unknown to +himself, occupied reserved niches in the ambitions of a hundred and one +fair plotters! + +“You will honor us by taking a drink, Miss Pinkie?” was the +criminologist's courteous overture. + +“Pinkie Marlowe, if you want to know the rest of my name. Yes, I need a +little absinthe to wake me up, for I just finished breakfast. We had a +large party last night at Reg Warren's. Why don't you dance with me?” + +“The old adage about fat men never being loved applies especially to +those who brave the terrors of the fox-trot. I weigh two hundred, so I +wisely sit under the trees and laugh at the others.” + +“You two hundred?” and admiration flashed from Pinkie's emotional eyes, +“I don't believe it. Why, you're just right! I could dance with a man +like you all night!” + +Helene's helplessness only fanned the flames of her inward fury at the +brazen intent of the girl. She forgot about Jack and even her plans +about Reginald Warren. But Shirley's purpose was now rewarded, for +Pinkie acted as the magnet to draw over several of the gilded youths +whom they had met the day before. More introductions followed, and +additional refreshments were soon gracing the table. Shine Taylor was +the next to join the party, and erelong the waited-for visitor was +approaching them. His eyes were upon Shirley from the instant that +he entered the room: he advanced directly toward their table with a +certainty which proved to Monty that method was in every move. + +“What a pleasant surprise, little Bonbon!” exclaimed this gentleman as +he drew up to their table. “I'm so glad. I was afraid you wouldn't get +home safely with Grimsby; he was so absolutely overcome last night. He +promised to bring you to my little entertainment but didn't show up. +What became of him?” + +“Join us in a drink and forget him,” suggested Helene, as she took his +hand with an innocently stupid smile. “This is Mr. Shirley, Mr.--Mr.--I +had so much champagne last night I forgot your name.” + +“Warren, that's simple enough. Glad to see you, Mr. Sherwood, oh, +Shirley! It seems as though I had heard your name--aren't you an actor, +or an artist? A musician, or something like that? My memory is so +miserable.” + +“I'm just a 'something like that,' not even an actor,” was the answer, +as the tiniest of nudges registered Helene's appreciation. “What is your +favorite poison?” + +Warren gave him a startled look, and then laughed: “Oh, you mean to +drink? Now you must join me for I am the intruder.” He drew out a roll +of money; more nice, new hundred dollar bills. Shirley remembered that +old Van Cleft had drawn several thousand dollars from his office the +night of the murder. Even his trained stoicism rebelled at thought of +drinking a cocktail bought with this bloody currency! + +“You didn't tell me about Grimsby?” persisted Warren, turning to Helene, +with an admiring scrutiny of the girl's charms. “I'm rather interested.” + +“You'll have to ask him, not me. After we took a taxi from the +Winter-Garden we had a ride in the Park. So stupid, I thought, at +this time of the year. When I woke up, Grimmie was helping me into the +entrance of the hotel. He was very cross with the chauffeur and with me, +too. Then he took the taxi and went home, still angry.” + +“So!” after a moment's silence, Warren continued, a puzzled look on his +face. “What was the trouble? I don't see how any one could be cross with +a nice little girl like you. But to-night, I'm to have another little +party up at my house. Bring some one up, who won't be cross. You come, +Mr. Shirley?” + +Helene hesitated, but Monty acquiesced. + +“That would be splendid. What time?” + +“About eleven. I'll expect you--I must run along now, as I'm ordering +some fancy dishes.” + +Shirley had paid his waiter, and he rose with Helene. + +“We must be leaving, too. I'll accept your invitation.” + +“And I'll be there, too, Mr. Shirley,” put in Pinkie Marlowe. “I'll +teach you some new steps. Reggie has a wonderful phonograph for dancing, +with all the new tunes. See you later, girlie.” + +They were accompanied to the door by Shine and Warren. At the +check-room, Shirley was interested to note that Shine Taylor took out +his green velour hat. His feet were adorned with white spats. After the +door of their taxi had slammed he confided to Helene that he had located +the gentleman who had caused his wreck that morning. Still, however, the +clues were too weak for action. The car went first to the club, where +Shirley sent in for any possible letters or messages. The servant +brought out a note. It was another surprise. He gave an address to the +driver and as the car turned up Fifth Avenue, he studied this missive +with knit brows. + +“A new worry?” asked Helene. “May I help you?” + +He handed her the letter, and she noticed the nervous handwriting. It +was short. + +“Dear Mr. Shirley: Just received a threatening note demanding money. Can +you come up at once? Howard V. C.” + +Shirley answered the question in the blue eyes, as she finished. + +“As I thought it would turn out. Baffled in their game of robbing old +men who have all left the city, they have begun to work the chance for +blackmail. I will advise Van Cleft to pay them, and then we will follow +the money. Here is the mansion and I will be out in five minutes.” + +He soon disappeared behind the bronze door. True to his promise, in five +minutes he had returned. He looked up and down the Avenue amazed. Not a +trace of the taxicab, nor of Helene Marigold could be seen! + +Shirley's impulse was to pinch himself to awaken from the chimera. He +knew she was armed, and would use the weapon if only to call for help. +For the first time in his career the chill of terror crept into his +heart--not for himself, but an irresistible dread of some impending +danger for this unfathomable woman who had shared his dangers so +uncomplainingly during this last wonderful day. He racked his mind +vainly for some plausible reason. “She knows I need her. Yet at the +supreme moment of the game she disappears. Can she be like other women, +when she is most necessary?” + +And he walked slowly down the Avenue, disconcerted, endeavoring to solve +this sudden abortion of his best laid plans. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. CONCERNING HELENE'S FINESSE + + +Shirley endured a miserable three hours, in his attempts to locate the +girl. She had not returned to the Hotel California, and he returned to +the club in moody reflection. It was beginning to snow, and the ground +was soon covered with a thin coat of white, through which he noticed his +footprints stenciled against the black of the wet pavement. He wasted a +dozen matches in the freshening wind, as he tried to light a cigarette. +He stepped into a doorway on the Avenue to avail himself of its shelter. +As he turned out to the street again, he almost bumped into two men, +wearing black caps! One of them grunted a curt apology, as he stepped +on. + +“They are after me as usual,” he thought. “Why not reverse operations +and find out where they belong?” + +It seemed hopeless: as in a checker game they had him at disadvantage +with the odd number of the “move.” Theirs was the chance to observe, and +an open attempt to follow them would be ridiculous. Then, the footprints +gave him an idea. + +Dimly behind could be discerned the two men, as he quickened his pace, +turning into a side street, off Fifth Avenue. Here he knew that traffic +would be light, and his footprints the best evidence of his progress. +The men unwittingly caught his plan, and dropped almost out of sight. +At the intersection of Madison Avenue, they quickened their steps, and +caught up with him again. Across corners, down quiet streets, and by +purposed diagonals he led them: still they dogged his footprints. +So adroit were they that only one experienced in the art could have +realized their watchfulness. + +Shirley now turned a corner quickly, into an unusually deserted +thoroughfare, running with short steps, so as not to betray his speed +by the tracks. Before they had time to round the corner he ran up +the thinly blanketed steps of a private residence. Then he backed, as +swiftly down the stoop, and thus crablike, walked across the street, +down a dozen houses and backward still, up the steps of another private +dwelling. Inside the vestibule he hid himself. The entry had strong +wooden outside doors, and he tried the strength of the hinges: they +satisfied him. A dim light burned behind the glass of the inner portal. +He quietly clambered up the door, and balanced himself on the wood which +gallantly stood the strain. Fortunately it did not come within four feet +of the high ceiling of the old fashioned house. + +He suffered a good ten minutes' wait before his ruse was rewarded. Being +on the “fence” was a pastime compared to this precarious test of his +muscles. The two men who had followed the first footprints tired of +waiting before the house. One of them determined to investigate the +other steps, which led into the house of their vigilance, from the other +dwelling. And so he followed on, to the vestibule where he rang the +bell. Shirley could have touched his head, so near he was, but the +darkness of the upper space covered the retreat of the criminologist. + +“What do you want?” was the angry question of an indignant old caretaker +who answered the bell tardily. “You woke me up.” + +“Say, lady, can I speak to Mr. Montague Shirley?” began the man, +gingerly. + +“You get away from this house, you loafer or I'll call the police. No +one by that name ain't here. Now, you get!” + +She slammed the door in his face. + +“I'll get Chuck to watch de udder joint,” muttered the man, in a tone +audible to Shirley. “Den I'll go back and git orders from Phil.” + +This habit of thinking aloud was expensive. Shirley stiffly but +noiselessly slid down the steps, as he disappeared in the thickening +snowfall. The criminologist slowly crossed the street, and sheltered +himself in a basement entrance, from which he reversed the shadowing +process. The twain hesitated before the first house, then one came up +the sidewalk, as the other stood his ground. This man passed within a +few feet of Shirley, who followed him over to Madison Avenue, then north +to Fifty-fifth Street. Here he turned west, and turned into one of the +old stables, formerly used by the gentry of the exclusive section for +their blooded steeds. Into one building, which announced its identity as +“Garage” with its glittering electric sign, the man disappeared. + +Shirley paused, looked about him, and chuckled. For he knew that through +the block on Fifty-sixth Street was the tall apartment building, known +as the Somerset--the address given him by Reginald Warren. + +“If I only had some word from Helene Marigold I could go ahead before +they realized my knowledge.” + +Even as this thought crossed his mind, he turned back into Sixth Avenue. +A hatless, breathless young person, running down the snowy street +collided with him. As he began to apologize, he awoke to the startling +fact that it was his assistant. + +“Great Scott! What are you doing here? Where have you been all this +time?” + +The girl caught his arm unsteadily, but there was a triumph in her +voice, as she cried: “Oh, this wonderful chance meeting. I was running +down to my hotel but you have saved the day. I will tell you later. +Quick, take this book.” + +She drew forth a volume, flexibly bound, like a small loose-leaf ledger. +Shirley stuck it into his overcoat pocket, which he was already slipping +about the girl's shivering shoulders. + +“Take me back at once, for there is more for me to do.” + +“Where, my dear girl? You are indeed the lady of mysteries.” + +“To the basement of Warren's apartment house. I came down the +dumb-waiter, when they left me. I left the little door ajar--Can you +pull me up again? He is on the eighth floor. It is a long pull--Oh, if +we can only make it before they return.” + +Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of the mad game, as she ran once more, +Shirley keeping pace with her. The flurries of the snowstorm protected +them from too-curious observation, as the streets seemed deserted +by pedestrians who feared the growing blizzard. She led him to the +tradesman's entrance of the Somerset, into the dark corridor through +which she had emerged. + +“Don't strike a light, for I can feel the way. We mustn't be seen.” + +Shirley obeyed,--at last she found the base of the dumbwaiter shaft. + +“How did you have the strength to lower yourself down this shaft--it is +no small task?” and his tone was admiring. + +“I am not a weakling--tennis, boating, swimming were all in my +education; they helped. But it is beyond me to pull all those floors, +and lift my weight. Pull up as far as the little elevator car goes, then +go away and come to his party to look for me. Do not be surprised at my +actions. My role has really developed into that of an emotional heavy.” + +She patted his hand with a relaxation of tenderness, as he began to draw +on the long rope. The girl was by no means a light weight, but at last +the dumb-waiter came to a stop. Shirley heard the opening and closing of +a door above. Then, still wondering at it all, he returned to the street +as unobserved as they had entered. There was at least an hour to wait. +He walked over to the Athletic Club, of which he was a remiss member, +attending seldom during the recent months when his exercise had been +more tragic than gymnastic work. In the library of the club house he sat +down to study the volume which Helene had thrust into his hands at their +startling meeting. + +He gave a low whistle of surprise. + +“Some little book!” he muttered, “and Helene Marigold has shown me that +I must fight hard to equal her in the race for laurels!” + +Then he proceeded to rack his brains with a new and knottier problem +than any which he had yet encountered. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. THE STRANGE AND SURPRISING WARREN + + +The volume was a loose-leaf diary, with each page dated, and of letter +size. It covered more than the current year, however, running back for +nearly eighteen months. It was as scrupulously edited as a lawyer's +engagement book, and curiously enough it was entirely written in +typewriting! + +Most surprising of all, however, was the curious code in which the +entire matter was transcribed,--the most unusual one which Shirley had +ever read. + +Here was the first page to which he opened, letter for letter and symbol +for symbol: + +“THURSDAY: JANUARY SEVENTH, 1915. +;rstmrfagtp,ansmlafrav;rudyrtaftreadocayjpi +dsmfaoma,ptmomha,pmlassdohmrfaypayscoae +ptlagptayrsadjomrasddohmrfagocahrmrsypta +,sthoragsotgscafsyraeoyjafrav;rudyrtasyagobra +djomrasmfalprajse;ruavobrtomhas,rakslras +smffanrmasddohmrfan;svlavstagpta,raqsofaqj +o;apmrajimftrfavpbrtomhadqrvos; aeptlakpn +agomodjrfatobrtdofraftobrasyarohjyoayjotfad ocadjstqafrqpdoyr +famohjyasmfaffuagpitayjpi dsmfadsgrafrqpdoyagogyrrmajimftrfa; +rmyaf p;;ua,stopmayepajimfrtgptaftrddagptaqstyua +eoyjabsmv;rgyamrcyasgyrtmppmasfbsmvrfad jomrapmrayjpidsm +daypavpbrtapqyopmapga usvjyadimnrs, aqsofaypantplrtayjsyamohjyapt +frfaqtpbodop,dayr;rqjpmragptausvjyayepa,p myjabtiodra, +pmlasddohmrdagptkpnamrcyafs uasfbs mvrfadjomragojimftrfapmasvvpimyae +ptlapmaer;;omhypmadrtts;a,syyrtatrqsitdan; svla,svjomra” + +and so it ran on, baffling and inspiring a headache! + +Shirley went over and over the lines of this bewildering phalanx of +letters with no reward for his absorbed devotion to the puzzle. + +“Let me see,” he mused. “Thursday, January seventh, was the date upon +which Washington Serral was murdered, according to Doctor MacDonald. Any +man who will maintain a record of the days in such a difficult code as +this must not only be extremely methodical, but is certain to have much +to put upon that record worth the trouble. Here may lay the secret of +the entire case.” + +At the end of the hour he had allowed himself, there was no more +proximity to solution than at the inception of his effort. It was +almost half-past eleven, and he knew that it was time to go to Warren's +apartment. He sent a messenger with the book, carefully wrapped up, to +his rooms at the club on Forty-fourth Street. It was too interesting +a document to risk taking up to that apartment again, after Helene's +exertions in obtaining it. + +The Somerset was not dissimilar from the hundreds of highly embellished +dwellings of the sort which abound in the region of the Park, causing +out-of-town visitors to marvel justly at the source of the vast sums of +money with which to pay the enormous rentals of them all. + +The elevator operator smirked knowingly, when he asked for Warren's +apartment. “You-all can go right up, boss. He's holdin' forth for +another of dem high sassiety shindigs to-night. Dat gemman alluz has too +many callin' to bother with the telephone when he has a party. You don't +need no announcin'.” + +The man directed him to the door on the left. Closed as it was the +sounds of merrymaking emanated into the corridor. Shirley's pressure +on the bell was answered by Shine Taylor's startled face. Warren stood +behind him. The surprise of the pair amused Shirley, but their composure +bespoke trained self-control. + +“I'm sorry to be late,” was the criminologist's greeting. “But I came +up to apologize for not being able to bring Miss Marigold. We missed +connections somewhere, and I couldn't find her.” + +“I am so pleased to have you with us anyway. We'll try to get along +without her--” but Warren was interrupted to his discomfiture. + +A silvery laugh came from the hallway behind him. Helene Marigold waved +a champagne glass at Shirley. + +“There's my tardy escort now. I'm here, Shirley old top! Te, he! You see +I played a little joke on you this afternoon and eloped with a handsomer +man than you.” She leaned unsteadily against the door post and waved +a white hand at him as she coaxed. “Come on in, old dear, and don't be +cross now with your little Bonbon Tootems!” + +Taylor and Warren exchanged glances, for this was an unexpected sally. +But they were prompt in their effusive cordiality, as they assisted +Shirley in removing his overcoat, and hanging his hat with those of the +other guests. He placed his cane against the hall tree, and followed his +host into the jollified apartment. He did not overlook the swift glide +of Shine's hand into each of his overcoat pockets in the brief interval. +Here was a skilful “dip”--Shirley, however, had taken care that the +pickpocket would find nothing to worry him in the overcoat. + +Warren's establishment was a gorgeous one. To Shirley it was hard to +harmonize the character of the man as he had already deduced it with +the evident passion for the beautiful. That such a connoisseur of art +objects could harbor in so broad and cultured a mind the machinations +of such infamy seemed almost incredible. The riddle was not new with +Reginald Warren's case: for morals and “culture” have shown their +sociological, economic and even diplomatic independence of each other +from the time when the memory of man runneth not! + +Shirley's admiration was shrewdly sensed by his host. So after a tactful +introduction to the self-absorbed merrymakers, now in all stages of +stimulated exuberance, he conducted his guest on a tour of inspection +about his rooms. + +“So, you like etchings? I want you to see my five Whistlers. Here is my +Fritz Thaulow, and there is my Corot. This crayon by Von Lenbach is a +favorite of mine.” His black eyes sparkled with pride as he pointed +out one gem after another in this veritable storehouse of artistic +surprises. Few of the jolly throng gave evidence of appreciating them: +the man was curiously superior to his associations in education as well +as the patent evidence which Shirley now observed of being to the manor +born. Helene Marigold, ensconced in a big library chair, her feet curled +under her, pink fingers supporting the oval chin, dreamily watched +Shirley's absorption. She seemed almost asleep, but her mind drank in +each mood that fired the criminologist's face, as he thoroughly relaxed +from his usual bland superiority of mien, to revel in the treasures. + +Ivory masterpieces, Hindu carvings, bronzes, landscapes, rare wood-cuts, +water colors--such a harmonious variety he had seldom seen in any +private collection. The library was another thesaurus: rich bindings +encased volumes worthy of their garb. The books, furthermore, showed the +mellowing evidence of frequent use; here was no patron of the instalment +editions-de-luxe! + +“You like my things,” and Warren's voice purred almost happily. There +was a softening change in his attitude, which Shirley understood. The +appreciation of a fellow worshiper warmed his heart. “My books--all +bound privately, you know, for I hate shop bindings. Most of them from +second-hand stalls, redolent with the personalities of half a hundred +readers. Books are so much more worth reading when they have been read +and read again. Don't you think so?” + +“Yes. I see your tastes run to the modern school. Individualism, +even morbidity: Spencer, Nietsche, Schopenhauer, Tolstoi, Kropotkin, +Gorky--They express your thoughts collectively?” + +“Yes, but not radically enough. My entire intellectual life has driven +me forward--I am a disciple of the absolute freedom, the divinity of +self, and--but there I invited you to a joy party, not a university +seminar.” + +“But the party will grow riper with age,” and Shirley was prone to +continue the autopsy. “You are a university man. Where did you study?” + +“Sipping here and there,” and a forgivable vanity lightened Warren's +face. “Gottingen, Warsaw, Jena, Oxford, Milan, The Sorbonne and even at +Heidelberg, the jolly old place. You see my scar?” He pulled back a lock +of his wavy black hair from the left temple to show a cut from a student +duelist's sword. “But you Americans--I mean, we Americans--we have such +opportunities to pick up the best things from the rest of the world.” + +“No, Warren,” and Shirley shook his head, not overlooking the slight +break which indicated that his host was a foreigner, despite the quick +change. “I have been to busy wasting time to collect anything but +fleeting memories. Too much polo, swimming, yachting, golfing--I have +fallen into evil ways. I think your example may reform me. You must dine +with me at my club some day, and give me some hints about making such +wonderful purchases.” + +“I know the most wonderful antique shop,” Warren began, and just then +was interrupted by Shine Taylor and a dizzy blonde person with whom he +maxixed through the Hindu draperies, each deftly balancing a champagne +glass. + +“Here, Reg, you neglect your other guests. Come on in!” Shine's +companion held out a wine glass to Warren, but her eyes were fixed in a +fascinated stare upon Montague Shirley. + +“Why, what are you doing here?” + +It was little Dolly Marion, Van Cleft's companion on the fatal +automobile ride. She trembled: the glass fell to the floor with a tinkly +crash. Shirley smiled indulgently. Taylor and Warren exchanged looks, +but Monty knew that they must by this time be aware of his command to +the girl to abstain from gay associations. + +“You couldn't resist the call of the wild, could you, Miss Dolly?” + +The girl sheepishly giggled, and danced out of the room, to sink into a +chair, wondering what this visitation meant. Another masculine butterfly +pressed more champagne upon her, and in a few moments she had forgotten +to worry about anything more important than the laws of gravity. Warren +had been rudely dragged away from his intellectual kinship with his +guest. His manner changed, almost indefinably, but Shirley understood. +He looked at Helene, a little bundle of sleepy sweetness in the big +chair. + +“Well, Miss! Where did you go when I left you on my call of condolence +to Howard Van Cleft? He leaves town to-night for a trip on his yacht, +and it was my last chance to say good-bye.” + +“Where is he going?” was Warren's lapsus linguae, at this bit of news. + +“Down to the Gulf, I believe. Do you know him, Warren? Nice chap. Too +bad about his father's sudden death from heart failure, wasn't it? He +told me they were putting in supplies for a two months' cruise and would +not be able to sail before three in the morning.” + +“I don't know Van Cleft,” was Warren's guarded reply. “Of course, I read +of his sad loss. But he is so rich now that he can wipe out his grief +with a change of scene and part of the inheritance. It's being done in +society, these days.” + +“Poor Van Cleft! He's besieged by blackmailers, who threaten to lay +bare his father's extravagant innuendos, unless he pays fifty thousand +dollars. He can afford it, but as he says, it's war times and money +is scarce as brunette chorus girls. He has put the matter before the +District Attorney and is going to sail for Far Cathay until they round +up the gang. These criminals are so clumsy nowadays, I imagine it will +be an easy task, don't you, Warren?” + +The other man's eyes narrowed to black slits as he studied the childlike +expression of Shirley's face. He wondered if there could be a covert +threat in this innocent confidence. He answered laconically: “Oh, I +suppose so. We read about crooks in the magazines and then see their +capers in the motion picture thrillers, but down in real life, we find +them a sordid, unimaginative lot of rogues.” + +He proffered Shirley a cigarette from his jeweled case. As he leaned +toward the table to draw a match from the small bronze holder, Helene +observed Shirley deftly substitute it for one of his own, secreting the +first. + +“Yes,” continued Shirley, “the criminal who is caught generally loses +his game because he is mechanical and ungifted with talent. But think of +the criminals who have yet to be captured--the brilliant, the inspired +ones, the chess-players of wickedness who love their game and play it +with the finesse of experts.” + +Shirley smoothed away the ripple of suspicion which he had mischievously +aroused with, “So, that is why fellows like us would not bother with the +life. The same physical and intellectual effort expended by a criminal +genius would bring him money and power with no clutching legal hand to +fear. But there, we're getting morbid. What I really want to do is to +satisfy my vanity. Where did Miss Marigold disappear?” + +“Talking about me?” and Helene opened her eyes languorously. “I was so +tired waiting for you that when Mr. Warren came along in his wonderful +new car I yielded to his invitation, so we enjoyed that tea-room trip +which you had promised. Such a lark! Then we came up here where I had +the most wonderful dinner with him and three girls. I was tired and +sleepy, so I dozed away on that library davenport until the party +began--and there you are and here I are, and so, forgive me, Monty?” + +She slipped nimbly to the floor, with a maddening display of a silken +ankle, advancing to the criminologist with a wistful playfulness which +brought a flush of sudden feeling, to the face of Reginald Warren. +Helene was carrying out his directions to the letter, Shirley observed. + +They lingered at Warren's festivities until a wee sma' hour, Helene +pretending to share the conviviality, while actually maintaining a +hawk-like watch upon the two conspirators as she now felt them to be. +She was amused by the frequency with which Shine Taylor and Reginald +Warren plied their guest with cigarettes: Shirley's legerdemain in +substituting them was worthy of the vaudeville stage. + +“The wine and my smoking have made me drowsy,” he told her, with no +effort at concealment. “We must get home or I'll fall asleep myself.” + +A covert smile flitted across Warren's pale face, as Shirley +unconventionally indulged in several semi-polite yawns, nodding a bit, +as well. Helene accepted glass after glass of wine, thoughtfully poured +out by her host. And as thoughtfully, did she pour it into the flower +vases when his back was turned: she matched the other girls' acute +transports of vinous joy without an error. Shirley walked to the +window, asking if he might open it for a little fresh air. Warren nodded +smiling. + +“You are well on the way to heaven in this altitude of eight stories,” + volunteered Shirley, with a sleepy laugh. + +“Yes. The eighth and top floor. A burglar could make a good haul of my +collection, except that I have the window to the fire escape barred from +the inside, around the corner facing to the north. Here, I am safe from +molestation.” + +“A great view of the Park--what a fine library for real reading; and +I see you have a typewriter--the same make I used to thump, when I +did newspaper work--a Remwood. Let me see some of your literary work, +sometime--” + +Warren waved a deprecating hand. “Very little--editors do not like it. I +do better with an adding machine down on Wall Street than a typewriter. +But let us join the others.” There was a noticeable reluctance +about dwelling upon the typewriter subject. Warren hurried into the +drawing-room, as Shirley followed with a perceptible stagger. + +Shine Taylor scrutinized his condition, as he asked for another +cigarette. As he yielded to an apparent craving for sleep, the others +danced and chatted, while Taylor disappeared through the hall door. +After a few minutes he returned to grimace slightly at Warren. Shirley +roused himself from his stupor. + +“Bonbon, let us be going. Good-night, everybody.” + +He walked unsteadily to the door, amid a chorus of noisy farewells, +with Helene unsteady and hilarious behind him. Warren and Shine seemed +satisfied with their hospitable endeavors, as they bade good-night. +The elevator brought up two belated guests, the roseate Pinkie and a +colorless youth. + +“Oh, are you going, Mr. Shirley? What a blooming shame. I just left the +most wonderful supper-party at the Claridge to see you.” + +“Too bad: I hope for better luck next time.” + +“The elevator is waiting,” and Helene's gaze was scornful. Shirley +restrained his smile at the girl's covert hatred of the redhaired +charmer. Then he asked maliciously: “Isn't she interesting? Too bad she +associates with her inferiors.” + +“You put it mildly.” + +“Here, boy, call a taxicab,” he ordered the attendant, as they reached +the lower level. + +“Sorry, boss, but I dassent leave the elevator at this time of night. +I'm the only one in the place jest now.” + +Shirley insisted, with a duty soother of silver, but the negro returned +in a few minutes, shaking his head. Shirley ordered him to telephone the +nearest hacking-stand. Then followed another delay, without result. + +“Come, Miss Helene, there is method in this. Let us walk, as it seems to +have been planned we should.” + +“Is it wise? Why put yourself in their net?” + +For reply, he placed in her hand the walking stick which he had so +carefully guarded when they entered the apartment. It was heavier than a +policeman's nightstick. As he retook it, she observed the straightening +line of his lips. + +“As the French say, 'We shall see what we shall see.' Please walk a +little behind me, so that my right arm may be free.” + +It was after two, and the street was dark. Shirley had noted an +arc-light on the corner when he had entered the building--now it was +extinguished. A man lurched forward as they turned into Sixth Avenue, +his eyes covered by a dark cap. + +“Say gent! Give a guy that's down an' out the price of a beef stew? I +got three pennies an' two more'll fix me.” + +“No!” + +“Aw, gent, have a heart!” The man was persistent, drawing closer, as +Shirley walked an with his companion, into the increasing darkness, away +from the corner. Another figure appeared from a dark doorway. + +“I'm broke too, Mister. Kin yer help a poor war refugee on a night like +this?” + +Shirley slipped his left hand inside his coat pocket and drew out a +handkerchief to the surprise of the men. He suddenly drew Helene back +against the wall, and stood between her and the two men. + +“What do you thugs want?” snapped the criminologist, as he clenched the +cane tightly and held the handkerchief in his left hand. There was no +reply. The men realized that he knew their purpose--one dropped to a +knee position as the other sprang forward. The famous football toe shot +forward with more at stake than ever in the days when the grandstands +screeched for a field goal. At the same instant he swung the loaded cane +upon the shoulders of the upright man, missing his head. + +The second man swung a blackjack. + +The first, with a bleeding face staggered to his feet. + +The handkerchief went up to the mouth of the active assailant, and to +Helene's astonishment, he sank back with a moan. Shirley pounced upon +his mate, and after a slight tussle, applied the handkerchief with the +same benumbing effect. Then he rolled it up and tossed it far from him. + +He took a police whistle from his pocket and blew it three times. His +assailants lay quietly on the ground, so that when the officer arrived +he found an immaculately garbed gentleman dusting off his coat shoulder, +and looking at his watch. + +“What is it, sir?” he cried. + +“A couple of drunks attacked me, after I wouldn't give them a handout. +Then they passed away. You won't need my complaint--look at them--” + +The policeman shook the men, but they seemed helpless except to groan +and hold their heads in mute agony, dull and apparently unaware of what +was going on about them. + +“Well, if you don't want to press the charge of assault?” + +“No. I may have it looked up by my attorney. Tonight I do not care to +take my wife to the stationhouse with me. They ought to get thirty days, +at that.” + +Shirley took Helene's arm, and the officer nodded. + +“I'll send for the wagon, sir. They're some pickled. Good-night.” + +As they walked up to the nearest car crossing, Helene turned to him with +her surprise unabated. + +“What did you do to them, Mr. Shirley?” + +“Merely crushed a small vial of Amyl nitrite which I thoughtfully put +in my handkerchief this afternoon. It is a chemical whose fumes are used +for restoring people afflicted with heart failure: with men like these, +and the amount of the liquid which I gave them for perfume, the result +was the same as complete unconsciousness from drunkenness.--Science is a +glorious thing, Miss Helene.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH SHIRLEY SURPRISES HIMSELF + + +They reached the hotel without untoward adventure. + +“Perhaps we might find a little corner in that dining-room I saw this +afternoon, with an obliging waiter to bring us something to eat. Shall +we try? I need a lot of coffee, for I am going down to the dock of the +Yacht Club to await developments.” + +“You big silly boy,” she cautioned, with a maternal note in her voice +which was very sweet to bachelor ears from such a maiden mouth, “you +must not let Nature snap. You have a wonderful physique but you must go +home to bed.” + +“It can't be done--I want to hear about your little visit to the +apartment, and the story of the diary. I'll ask the clerk.” + +A bill glided across the register of the hotel desk, and the greeter +promised to attend to the club sandwiches himself. He led them to a +cosey table, in the deserted room, and started out to send the bell-boy +to a nearby lunchroom. + +“Just a minute please,--if any one calls up Miss Marigold, don't let +them know she has returned. I have something important to say, without +interruption: you understand?” + +“Yes, I get you, sir,” and the droll part was that with a familiarity +generated of the hotel arts he did understand even better than Shirley +or Helene. He had seen many other young millionaires and golden-haired +actresses. Shirley looked across the table into the astral blue of +those gorgeous eyes. Certain unbidden, foolish words strove to liberate +themselves from his stubborn lips. + +“I am a consummate idiot!” was all that escaped, and Helene looked her +surprise. + +“Why, have you made a mistake?” + +“I hope not. But tell me of Warren's mistake.” + +She had been waiting what seemed an eternity before Van Cleft's house, +when a big machine drew up alongside. Warren greeted her with a smiling +invitation to leave Shirley guessing. Her willingness to go, she felt, +would disarm his suspicions. The little dinner in the apartment with +Shine, Warren and three girls had been in good taste enough: pretending, +however, to be overcome with weariness she persuaded them to let her +cuddle up on the couch, where she feigned sleep. Warren had tossed an +overcoat over her and left the apartment with the others, promising to +return in a few minutes. He had said to Shine, “She'll be quiet until +we return--it may be a good alibi to have her here.” Then he had +disappeared, wearing only a soft hat, with no other overcoat. Listening +at the closed hall door, she heard him direct the elevator man, “Second +off, Joe.” The door was locked from the outside. The servant's entrance +was locked, all the bedrooms locked, every one with a Yale lock above +the ordinary keyhole. The Chinese cook had been sent out sometime before +to buy groceries and wine for the later party. + +“But where did you find the note-book? It may send him to the electric +chair.” Monty Shirley was lighting one of the cigarettes handed him by +his host. He sniffed at it and crushed out the embers at the end. “This +cigarette would have sent me to dreamland for a day at least--Warren +understands as much chemistry as I do.” + +“At first I studied the books in the library out of curiosity and then +noticed that three books were shoved in, out of alignment with the +others on the shelf. With a manservant in the house, instead of a woman, +of course things needed dusting. But where these three books were it +had been rubbed off! I took out the books, reached behind and found the +little leather volume. It was simple. I went to his typewriter when I +saw that the pages were all typed, and took out some note-paper, from +the bronze rack.” + +“And then, Miss Sleuth?” + +“Don't laugh at me. I had heard of the legal phrase 'corroborative +evidence,' so knowing that it would be necessary to connect that +typewriter with the book, I rattled off a few lines on the machine. Here +it is: it will show the individuality of the machine to an expert.” + +“You wonderful girl!” he murmured simply. She protested, “Don't tease +me. I have watched you and am learning some of your simple but complete +methods of working. I understand you better than you think.” + +“Go on with your story,” and Shirley was uncomfortable, although he knew +not why. + +“That is the end of my tale of woe. The kitchen being open, I took +advantage of the dumb-waiter, as you already know. It's fortunate that +waiter is dumb, for it must have many lurid confessions to make. I never +saw such an interminable shaft; it seemed higher than the Eiffel Tower. +See how I blistered my hands on the rope, letting myself down.” + +She opened her palms, showing the red souvenirs of the coarse strands. +Almost unconsciously she placed her soft fingers within Shirley's for a +brief instant. She quickly drew them away, sensing a blush beneath +the cosmetics, glad that he could not detect it. That gentle contact +thrilled Shirley again, even as the dear memory of the tired cheek +against his shoulder, during the automobile trip of the previous night. + +“After finding you so accidentally and returning with your aid, on the +little elevator, I threw myself back into the original pose on the +big couch. It was just in time, for Warren returned. His cook came in +shortly afterward. I imagine that he allows no one in that apartment, +ordinarily, when he is not there himself. But what, sir, do you think I +discovered upon the shoulder of his coat?” + +Shirley shook his head. “A beautiful crimson hair,” he asked gravely, +“from the sun-kissed forehead of the delectable Pinkie? Or was it white, +from the tail of the snowy charger which tradition informs us always +lurks in the vicinity of auburn-haired enchantresses?” + +“Nothing so romantic. Just cobwebs! He saw me looking at them, and +brushed them off very quickly.” + +“The man thinks he is a wine bottle of rare vintage!” observed Shirley. +But the jest was only in his words. He looked at her seriously and +then rapt in thought, closed his eyes the better to aid his mental +calculation. “He got off at the second floor--He wore no overcoat--A +black silk handkerchief--cobwebs--and that garage on the other street, +through the block! Miss Helene, you are a splendid ally!” + +“Won't you tell me what you mean about the garage? Who were those men +who attacked you? What happened since I deserted you?” + +But Shirley provokingly shook his head, as he drew out his watch. + +“It is half-past two. I must hurry down to East Twenty-fifth Street and +the East River, at the yacht club mooring, before three. Tomorrow I will +give you my version in some quiet restaurant, far from the gadding crowd +of the White Light district.” + +He rose, drawing back his chair; they walked to the elevator together. +The clerk beckoned politely. + +“A gent named Mr. Warren telephoned to ask if you were home yet, Miss +Marigold. I told him not yet. Was that wrong?” + +“It was very kind of you. Thank you so much,” and Helene's smile was +the cause of an uneasy flutter in the breast of the blase clerk. +“Good-night.” + +“That's a lucky guy, at that, Jimmie,” confided the clerk to the +bell-boy. “She is some beauty show, ain't she? And she's on the right +track, too.” + +“Yep, but she's too polite to be a great actress or a star. Her +temper'ment ain't mean enough!” responded this Solomon in brass buttons. +“I hopes we gits invited to the wedding!” + +Outside, Shirley enjoyed the stimulus of the bracing early morning air. +A new inspiration seemed to fire him, altogether dissimilar to the glow +which he was wont to feel when plunging into a dangerous phase of a +professional case. He slowly drew from his pocket the typed note-paper +which had nestled in such enviable intimacy with that courageous heart. +The faint fragrance of her exquisite flesh clung to it still. He held +it to his lips and kissed it. Then he stopped, to turn about and look +upward at the tall hostelry behind him. High up below the renaissance +cornice he beheld the lights glow forth in the rooms which he knew were +Helene's. + +As he hurried to the club, he muttered angrily to himself: “I have made +one discovery, at least, in this unusual exploit. I find that I have +lost what common sense I possessed when I became a Freshman at college!” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE RISING TIDE + + +A hurried message to the Holland Agency brought four plain clothes men +from the private reserve, under the leadership of superintendent Cleary. +Monty met them at the doorway of the club house, wearing a rough and +tumble suit. + +They sped downtown, toward the East River, the criminologist on the +seat where he could direct the driver. At Twenty-sixth Street, near +the docks, they dismounted and Shirley gave his directions to the +detectives. + +“I want you to slide along these doorways, working yourselves separately +down the water front until you are opposite the yacht club landing. I +will work on an independent line. You must get busy when I shoot, yell +or whistle,--I can't tell which. As the popular song goes, 'You're here +and I'm here, so what do we care?' This is a chance for the Holland +Agency to get a great story in the papers for saving young Van Cleft +from the kidnappers.” + +He left them at the corner, and crossing to the other pavement, began +to stagger aimlessly down the street, looking for all the world like a +longshoreman returning home from a bacchanalian celebration from +some nearby Snug Harbor. It was a familiar type of pedestrian in this +neighborhood at this time of the morning. + +“That guy's a cool one, Mike,” said Cleary to one of his men. “These +college ginks ain't so bad at that when you get to know 'em with their +dress-suits off.” + +“He's a reg'lar feller, that's all,” was Mike's philosophical response. +“Edjication couldn't kill it in 'im.” + +A hundred yards offshore was the beautiful steam yacht of the Van +Clefts', the “White Swan.” Lights on the deck and a few glowing +portholes showed unusual activity aboard. Shirley's hint to Warren about +the contemplated trip to southern climes was the exact truth. Naked +truth, he had found, was ofttimes a more valuable artifice than +Munchausen artistry of the most consummate craft! The longshoreman, +apparently befuddled in his bearings, wandered toward the dock, which +protruded into the river, a part of the club property. He staggered, +tumbled and lay prostrate on the snowy planks. + +Then he crawled awkwardly toward one of the big spiles at the side of +the structure, where he passed into a profound slumber. This, too, was +a conventional procedure for the neighborhood! A man walked across the +street, from the darkness of a deserted hallway: he gave the somnolent +one a kick. The longshoreman grunted, rolled over, and continued to +snore obliviously. + +An automobile honk-honked up Twenty-third Street, and then swung around +in a swift curve toward the dock. The investigating kicker slunk away, +down the street. The limousine drew up at the entrance to the tender +gangway. Accompanied by a portly servant, a young man in a fur coat, +stepped from the machine. + +“Give them another call with your horn, Sam,” he directed. “The boat +will be in for me, then.” + +This was done. A scraping noise came from the hanging stairway of the +dock, and a voice called up from the darkness: “Here we are, sir!” + Howard Van Cleft leaned over the edge and looked down, somewhat +nervously. A reassuring word came up from the boat, rocking against the +spiles. + +“You was a bit late, sir. You said three, Mr. Van Cleft, and now it's +ten after. So the captain sent us in to wait for you. Everything's +shipshape, sir, steam up, and all the supplies aboard. Climb right down +the ladder, sir. Steady now, lads!” + +This seemed to presage good. Van Cleft turned to his butler. + +“Take down the luggage, Edward. Goodbye, Sam. Keep an eye on the +machines. The folks will attend to everything for you while I am away. +Good-bye.” + +The butler had delivered the baggage and now returned up the ladder, +puffing with his exertions. + +“Good-bye, sir,” and his voice was more emotional than usual. “Watch +yourself, sir, if you please, sir. You're the last Van Cleft, and +we need you, sir.” The old man touched his hat, and climbed into the +automobile, as Van Cleft climbed down the ladder. The machine sped away +under the skilful guidance of Sam. + +“Steady, sir, steady--There, we have you now, sir,--Quick, men! Up the +river with the tide. Row like hell!--Keep your oars muffled--here comes +the other boat.” + +All this seemed naturally the accompaniment of the embarkment of Van +Cleft's yachting cruise, but the sleeping longshoreman suddenly arose to +his feet and blew a shrill police whistle. Next instant the flash of +his pocket-lamp illumined the dark boat below him. A volley of curses +greeted this untoward action! A revolver barked from the hand of a big +man in the stern. Young Van Cleft lay face downward in the boat, neatly +gagged and bound. As the light still flickered over the surprised +oarsmen, an answering shot evidenced better aim. The man in the back of +the bobbing vessel groaned as he fell forward upon the prostrate body of +the pinioned millionaire. One oarsman disappeared over the side of the +boat, to glide into the unfathomable darkness, with skilful strokes. + +“Hold still! I'll kill the first man who makes a move!” + +As Shirley's voice rang out, Cleary with his assistants was dashing +across the open space to the end of the dock. + +“Shove out that boat-hook and hold onto the dock!” was the additional +order, accompanied by a punctuation mark in the form of another bullet +which splintered the gunwale of the boat. Looking as they were, into the +dazzling eye of the bulb light, the men were uncertain of the number of +their assailants: surrender was natural. Cleary's men made quick work +of them. The boat from the yacht now hove to by this time, filled with +excited and profane sailormen. The skipper of the “White Swan,” revolver +drawn, stood in its bow as it bumped against the stairway. Howard Van +Cleft was unbound: dazed but happy he tried to talk. + +“What--why--who?” he mumbled. + +“Pat Cleary, from the Holland Detective Agency,” was Shirley's response. +“There, handcuff these men quick. Two cops are coming. We want the +credit of this job before the rookies beat us to it.” + +Van Cleft recognized the speaker, and caught his hand fervently. +Shirley, though, was too busy for gratitude. He gave another quick +direction. + +“Hurry on board your yacht tender and get underway. Your life isn't +worth a penny if you stay in town another hour. These men will be +attended to. Good luck and goodbye.” + +The young man rapidly transferred his luggage to his own boat. They +were soon out of view on their way to the larger vessel. Shirley turned +toward Cleary. + +“I'll file the charge against these two men. They tried to rob me and +make their getaway in this boat. You were down here as a bodyguard for +Van Cleft, who, of course, knew nothing about the matter as he left for +his cruise. So his name can be kept out of it entirely. And the fact +that you helped to save him from paying fifty thousand dollars in +blackmail, will not injure the size of Captain Cronin's bill. Get me?” + +“It's got!” laughed Cleary. + +Two patrolmen were dumfounded when they reached the spot to find four +men in handcuffs in charge of six armed guardians. The superintendent +explained the situation as laid out by Shirley. The cavalcade took its +way to the East Twenty-first Street Police Station, where the complaint +was filed. Sullen and perplexed about their failure, the men were all +locked in their cells, after their leader had his shoulder dressed by an +interne summoned from the nearby Bellevue Hospital. + +Shirley and Cleary returned with the others to the waiting automobile, +after these formalities. The prisoners had been given the customary +opportunity to telephone to friends, but strangely enough did not avail +themselves of it. + +“We're cutting down the ranks of the enemy, Cleary,” observed the +detective as he lit a cigarette. “But I wonder who it was that escaped +in the water?” + +“He'll be next in the net. But say, Mr. Shirley, what percentage do you +get for all this work, I'm awondering?” was the answering query. The +criminologist laughed. + +“Thanks, my dear man, simply thanks. That's a rare thing for a +well-to-do man to get since the I.W.W. proved to the world that it's a +crime for a man to own more than ten dollars, or even to earn it! But +I wish you would drop me off about half a block from the Somerset +Apartments, on Fifty-sixth Street. I want to watch for a late arrival.” + +He waited in the shadows of the houses on the opposite side of the +street. After half an hour he was rewarded by the sight of Mr. Shine +Taylor dismounting from a taxicab. The young gentleman wore a heavy +overcoat over a bedraggled suit. One of his snowy spats was missing; +his hat was dripping, still, from its early immersion. He entered the +building, after a cautious survey of the deserted street, with a stiff +and exhausted gait. + +Shirley was satisfied with this new knot in the string. He returned to +his rooms at the club, to gain fresh strength for the trailing on the +morrow. And this time, he felt that he deserved his rest! + +Next morning, after his usual plunge and rub-down, he ordered breakfast +in his rooms. He instructed the clerk to send up a Remwood typewriter, +and began his experiments with the code of the diary. + +From an old note-book, in which were tabulated the order of letter +recurrences according to their frequency in ordinary English words, he +freshened his memory. This was the natural sequence, in direct ratio to +the use of the letters: “E: T: A: O: N: I: S: B: M, etc.” The use of “E” + was double that of any other. Yet on the pages of the book he found that +the most frequently recurring symbol was “R” which was, ordinarily, one +of the least used in the alphabet. “T,” which would have been second +in popularity, naturally, was seen only a few times in proportion. “Y,” + also seldom used, appeared very often. The symbol “A” was used with +surprising frequency. + +“Let me see,” he mused. “This code is strictly typewritten. It must be +arranged on some mechanical twist of the typing method. A is used so +many times that it might be safe to assume that it is used for a space, +as all the words in this code run together. If A is used that way, +what takes its place? S would by rights be seventh on the list, but the +average I have made shows that it is about third or fourth.” + +Carefully he jotted down in separate columns on a piece of paper the +individual repetitions of letters on the page of “January 7, 1915.” He +arrived at the conclusion, then, that “R” was used for “E,” that “S” + took the place of “A” and that “Y” alternated in this cipher for “T” + which was second on his little list. + +Fur the benefit of the reader who may be interested enough to work +out this little problem, along the lines of Shirley's deductions the +arrangement of the so-called “Standard” keyboard is here shown, as it +was on the “Number Four” machine of Warren's Remwood, and the duplicate +machine which Shirley was using. + + Q W E R T Y U I O P + + A S D F G H J K L; + + Z X C V B N M,. + + Shift SPACE BAR Shift + Key Key + +This diagram represents the “lower case” or small letters, capitals +being made by holding down one of the shift keys on either side, and +striking the other letter at the same time, there being two symbols on +each metal type key. As only small letters were used through the code +Shirley did not bother about the capitals. He realized at last, that if +his theory of substitution were correct the writer had struck the key +to the right of the three frequent letters. He had the inception of the +scheme. + +Starting with the first line of the sentences so jumbled on the page +for January 7, 1915, he began to reverse the operation, copying it off, +hitting on the typewriter the keyboard letter to the left of the one +indicated in the order of the cipher. + +The result was gratifying. He continued for several lines, having +trouble only with the letter “P.” At last he realized that the only +substitution for that could be “Q.” In other words, “A” had been used +for the space letter throughout, and for all the other symbols the one +on the right had been struck, except “P” which being at the end of the +line had been merely swung to the first letter on the other end of it! + +No wonder Warren had been so confident of its baffling simplicity! Many +of the well-known rules for reading codes would not work with this one, +and had it not been for Shirley's suspicion, aroused in the library +of the arch-schemer the night before, he would hardly have given the +typewriter, as a mechanical aide, a second thought. Warren's desire to +drop the subject of machines had planted a dangerous seed. + +Laboriously Shirley typed off the material of the entire page for the +fatal Thursday, and his elation knew no bounds as he realized that here +was a key to many of the activities of his enemy. He donned his hat and +coat and hurried over to the Hotel California to show his discovery +to Helene. She invited him up to her suite at once, where he wasted no +words but exhibited the triumphant result of his efforts. He handed her +his own transcription, and this is what she read: + +“January 7, 1915, Thursday. + +“learned from bank de cleyster drew six thousand in morning monk assigned +to taxi work for tea shine assigned to fix generator margie fairfax date +with de cleyster at five, shine and joe hawley covering game jake and +ben assigned black car for me paid phil one hundred covering special +work job finished riverside drive at eighty third sharp deposited night +and day four thousand safe deposit fifteen hundred lent dolly marion two +hundred for dress for party with van cleft next afternoon advanced shine +one thousand to cover option of yacht sunbeam paid to broker that night +ordered provisions telephone for yacht two month cruise monk assigned +for job next day advanced shine five hundred on account work on +wellington serral matter repairs black machine fifty party apartment +same night champagne one hundred fifty caterer one hundred tips fifty +five to janitor taxis twelve must stir phil up on work for grimsby +matter memorandum arrange for yacht mooring on east river instead of +north after wednesday eighth job finis memorandum settle telephone +exchange proceeds not later than monday paid electrician special wiring +two hundred in full settlement.” + +“There, Miss Helene, how do you like my little game of letter building?” + +There was a boyish gleam of triumph in his smile as he turned toward +her. + +“You are a wizard, but how did you work it all out?” There was no +smile in her face, only a mingled horror at the revelations of this +calculating monster in his businesslike murder work, and an unfeigned +admiration for Shirley's keenness. + +“A very old method, but one which would have availed for naught without +your help. The letter paper which you used and the unmistakable identity +of Warren's machine are two more bars of iron with which to imprison +him. The paper of that note is the same on which they wrote to Van +Ceft for money, and their threats to me. This shows from a microscopic +examination of its texture. I will give the whole book to a trustworthy +stenographer: more than six months of these little confessions are +tabulated here. Warren was evidently so used to this code that he could +write in it as easily as I do with the straight alphabet. His training +in German universities developed a thoroughness, a methodical recording +of every thing, which is apt to cost him dearly. And his undoubted +vanity prompted him to have a little volume of his own in that library +to which he could turn occasionally for the retrospection of his own +cleverness. Now, I must investigate this clever telephone system. I +think I have the clue necessary.” + +He intrusted the book to Helene for the morning, promising to return +in an hour or two with new information, drolly refusing to tell her his +destination. + +“You're a bad, bold boy, and should be spanked, for not letting some +one know where to look for you in case you get into difficulties,” she +pouted. “Perhaps I will do some equally foolish thing myself.” + +“If you knew how you frightened me yesterday!” he began. + +“Did you really worry and really care?” But Shirley had slipped out of +the door, leaving her to wonder, and then begin that long delayed letter +to Jack. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. AN EXPEDITION UNDERGROUND + + +The criminologist picked his way through the swarming vehicles which +swung up and down Broadway, across to Seventh Avenue, where he turned +into a plumber's shop. This fellow had handled small jobs on Shirley's +extensive real estate holdings, and he was naturally delighted to do a +favor in the hope of obtaining new work. + +“Mike, I want to borrow an old pair of overalls, a jumper and one of +those blue caps hanging up on your wall. And I need some plumbers' +tools, as well, for a little joke I am to play on one of my friends.” + +The workman was astounded at such a request from his rich client, +but nodded willingly. The dirtiest of the clothes answered Shirley's +requirements and with soot rubbed over his face and hands, his hair +disarranged, he satisfied his artistic craving for detail. He was +transformed into a typical leadpipe brigand. Hanging his own garments in +the closet, after transferring his automatic revolver into the pocket of +the jeans, he started out, carrying the furnace pot, and looking like a +union-label article. + +He reached the Somerset by a roundabout walk, passing more than one of +his acquaintances with inward amusement at their failure to recognize +him. He had arranged for Helene to invite Shine Taylor and Reginald +Warren down to call on her at the apartment in the California at this +particular time. So thus he felt that the coast was clear. At the +tradesmen's entrance, where he had gone before to hoist on the +dumbwaiter, he entered the building. An investigation of the basement +showed him that in the rear of the building were one large and two small +courts or air shafts. Then he ascended the iron stairway to the street +level of the vestibule. + +“Say, bo, I come to fix de pipes on de second floor,” was his +self-introduction to the haughty negro attendant. “Dey're leakin' an' me +boss tells me to git on de job in a hustle.” + +“Which one? I ain't heard o' no leaks. It must be in de empty apartment +in de rear, kase dat old maid in de front would been kickin' my fool +head off ef she's had any trouble. She's always grouchy.” + +“Sure, dingy, it's de empty one in de rear. Lemme in an' I'll fix it.” + +“You-all better see de superintendent. People is apt to be lookin' at +dat apartment to-day to rent it, an' he mightn't want no plumber mussin' +round. I'll go hunt 'im fer you-all.” + +“Say, you jest lemme in now. I'm paid by de hour. You knows what plumber +bills is, an' your superintendent'll fire you if he has to pay ten +dollars' overtime 'cause you hold me up.” + +This was superior logic. The negro took him up and opened the door. +Shirley entered, and peered out of the court window in the rear. +Helene's suggestion about the dust was applicable here, for he found +all the windows coated except the one opening upon the areaway. Below he +observed a stone paving with a cracked surface. It was semidark, but his +electric pocket-light enabled him to observe one piece of the rock which +seemed entirely detached. Shirley investigated the closets of the empty +apartment. In one of them he discovered the object of his search. It +was a knotted rope. He first observed the exact way in which it had been +folded in order to replace it without suspicion being aroused. Then he +took it to the small window of the air shafts hanging it on a hook which +was half concealed behind the ledge. Down this he lowered himself, hand +over hand. The stone was quickly lifted--it was hinged on the under +surface. In the dark hole which was before him there was an iron ladder. +Down he went, into the utter blackness. His outstretched hands apprised +him that he was at the beginning of a walled tunnel, through which +he groped in a half-upright position. He reached an iron door, and +remembering his direction calculated that this must be at the rear +entrance of the old garage on West Fifty-fifth Street. It opened, as he +swung a heavy iron bar, fitted with a curious mechanism resembling the +front of a safe. Softly he entered, carrying his heavy boots in his +hand. All was still within, and he shot the glow ray of his little lamp +about him. As the reader may guess, it was the rear room of Warren's +private spider-web! The table, facing the screen was surmounted by an +ingenious telephone switchboard. + +Shirley examined this closely. The various plugs were labelled: +“Rector,” “Flatbush,” “Jersey City,” “Main,” “Morningside,” and other +names which Shirley recognized as “central” stations of the telephone +company. Here was the partial solution of the mysterious calls. He +determined to test the service! + +He took up the telephone receiver and sent the plug into the orifice +under the label, “Co.” wondering what that might be. Soon there was an +answer. + +“Yes, Chief. What is it?” + +“How's everything?” was Shirley's hoarse remark. “I find connections bad +in the Bronx? What's the matter?” + +“I'll send one of the outside men up there to see, Chief. There's a new +exchange manager there, and he may be having the wires inspected. But +my tap is on the cable behind the building. I don't see how he could get +wise.” + +Shirley smiled at this inadvertent betrayal of the system: wire tapping +with science. He was able to trap the confederate with his own mesh of +copper now. + +“I want to see you right away. Some cash for you. I'm sick with a cold +in the throat so don't keep me waiting. Go up town and stand in the +doorway at 192 West Forty-first Street. Don't let anybody see you while +you wait there, so keep back out of sight. How soon can you be there?” + +“Oh, in half an hour if I hurry. Any trouble? You certainly have a bum +voice, Chief. But how will I know it's you?” + +“I'll just say, 'Telephone,' and then you come right along with me, to a +place I have in mind. Don't be late, now! Good-bye.” + +Shirley drew out the connection and tried the exchange labelled +“Rector.” Instantly a pleasant girl's voice inquired the number desired. + +“Bryant 4802-R.” + +This was the Hotel California. + +The operator on the switchboard of the hostelry replied. + +“Give me Miss Marigold's apartment, please.” + +Helene's voice was soon on the wire. Shirley asked for Warren in a gruff +tone. + +“What do you want?” was that gentleman's musical inquiry, in the tones +which were already so familiar to the criminologist. + +“Chief, dis is de Rat. I wants to meet you down at de Blue Goose on +Water Street in half an hour. Kin you'se come? It's important.” + +The other was evidently mystified. + +“The Rat? What do you mean? I don't know you. Ring off!” + +Shirley heard the other receiver click. He held the wire, reasoning +out the method of the intriguer. Soon there was a buzz in his ear, and +Warren's voice came to him. It was droll, this reversal of the original +method, which had been so puzzling. + +“What number is this?” + +“Rector 4471, sir,” answered the criminologist in the best falsetto tone +he could muster. Then he disconnected with a smile. This was turning the +tables with a vengeance. But he knew that he must be getting away from +the den before the possible investigation by Warren or his lieutenant. +There were many things he would have liked to study about the place. +But his curiosity about the telephone had made it impossible for him to +remain. It was a costly mistake, as events were destined to prove! + +He hurried out of the compartment, into the tunnel, up the rope and +through the window. He replaced the knotted rope, exactly as it had been +before. He put a few drippings of molten lead from the bubbling pot, +under the wash-stand of the bathroom, to carry out the illusion of his +work as plumber. Then he departed from the building, as he had entered. + +In ten minutes he was changing his garments in Mike's plumbing shop, +with a fabulous story of the excruciating joke he had played upon a sick +friend. Then he walked rapidly to the doorway at 192 West Forty-first +Street. + +Back against the wall of this empty store entry, lounged a +pleasant-looking young man who puffed at a perfecto. Shirley stepped +in, and in a low tone, said: “Telephone.” The other started visibly, and +scrutinized the well-groomed club man from head to foot. + +“Well, Chief, you're a surprise. I never thought you looked like that. +Where will we go?” + +“Over to the gambling house a friend of mine runs, just around the +corner. There we can talk in quiet.” + +Shirley led the way, restraining the smile which itched to betray his +enjoyment of the situation. The other studied him with sidelong glances +of unabated astonishment. They were soon going up the steps of the +Holland Agency, which looked for all the world, with its closed +shutters, and quiet front, like a retreat for the worshipers of Dame +Fortune. Cronin fortunately did not believe in signs. So the young man +was not suspicious, even when Shirley gave three knocks upon the door, +to be admitted by the sharp-nosed guardian of the portal. + +“Tell Cleary to come downstairs, Nick,” said the criminologist. “I want +him to meet a friend of mine.” + +The superintendent was soon speeding two steps at a time. + +“The Captain is back, Mr. Shirley,” he exclaimed. “He's in the private +office on a couch.” + +“Good, then we'll take my friend right to him.” + +The stranger was beginning to evidence uneasiness, and he turned +questioningly to his conductor, with a growing frown. + +“Say, what are you leading me into, Chief?” + +Shirley said nothing but strode to the rear of the floor, through the +door of Captain Cronin's sanctum. The old detective was covered with +a steamer shawl, as he stretched out on a davenport. The young man +observed the photographs around the room,--an enormous collection of +double-portraits of profile and front face views--the advertized crooks +for whom Cronin had his nets spread in a dozen cases. The handcuffs on +the desk, the measuring stand, the Bertillon instruments on the table, +all these aroused his suspicions instantly. + +He whirled about, angrily. + +Shirley smiled in his face. Then he addressed the surprised Captain +Cronin. + +“Here is our little telephone expert who arranged the wires for Warren +and his gang, Captain. You are welcome to add him to your growing +collection of prisoners.” + +For answer the young man whipped out a revolver and fired point-blank at +the criminologist. His was a ready trigger finger. But he was no swifter +than the convalescent detective on the couch, who had swung a six +shooter from a mysterious fold of the steamer blanket, and planted a +bullet into the man's shoulder from the rear. + +As the smoke cleared away, Shirley straightened up from the crouching +position on the floor which had saved him from the assassin, and dragged +the wounded criminal to his feet. The handcuffs clicked about his wrists +before the young man had grasped the entire situation. Cleary and three +others of the private force were in the room. + +“I've got to hurry along now, Captain. Just let him know that his Chief +is captured and the sooner he turns State's evidence the better it will +be for him. The District Attorney might make it lighter, if he helps. +I'll be back this evening if I can.” And Shirley hurried away, leaving +much surprise and bewilderment in every mind. + +Cronin was equal to the task of picking up the threads, and under +his sarcasm, and Cleary's rough arguments, the prisoner admitted some +interesting matters about the mysterious employer whose face he had +never seen. But Shirley's task was far from completed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. A DOUBLE ON THE TRAIL + + +Shirley walked up to the Hotel California, at the door of which he met +Warren and Taylor just leaving. They looked somewhat embarrassed but his +manner was cordiality itself. + +“Sorry you are going. I was just stepping up to see Miss Marigold. Won't +you come back?” + +His invitation was refused. Then Shirley urged Warren to be his guest +at the club for dinner that evening. This was accepted with a surprising +alacrity. So, he left them, and was soon talking with Helene. + +“You missed a curious little sociable party,” she assured him. “They +tried to quiz me, and I confess that I worked for the same purpose--no +results on either side. But, Warren had an unusual telephone call, which +disturbed him so much that he hurried away, sooner than he had planned.” + +Shirley recounted his explorations of the afternoon, with the +explanation of Reginald's disturbance. It was certain now that the +leader of the assassins had something to cause uneasiness,--enough to +take his mind off the campaign of murder and blackmail. + +“But he will try to get you out of the way,” was her anxious answer. +“You are multiplying needless dangers. Why don't you have him arrested +now--the phonograph records will identify his voice, will they not? The +diary will show his career, and everything seems complete in the case.” + +Shirley sat down in the window-seat, before replying. + +“It is just my own vanity, then, perhaps. I am foolish enough to believe +that I can trap him on some crime which will give him the complete +punishment he deserves without dragging in the names of these +unfortunate old society men. All our trouble would be for nothing, just +now, if the story came out. The phonograph records helped me--but +I prefer to keep that method to myself, as a matter of interest and +selfishness. Somewhere, in that beautiful apartment of his there must be +clues which will send him to the electric chair on former crimes: Warren +is an artist who has handled other brushes than the ones he used on this +masterpiece. He is not a beginner. So, I must ransack his apartment.” + +“That is impossible, with all the care he takes with bolts and locks.” + +“We shall see. Meanwhile, I'll spin the yarn of the last thirty-six +hours. I'm sure your curiosity is whetted: my own is by no means +satisfied.” + +So he gave her a survey of the progress he had made. Helene brought +forth a number of typewritten pages which she had transcribed from the +diary, proudly exhibiting a machine which she had ordered sent up from +the hotel office. + +“There, sir, we are unwinding the ravelings of his past life to an +extent. I have found a mysterious reference to a Montfluery case in +Paris, during August of last year. What can you do to investigate that +lead?” + +Shirley jotted down the name, and answered: “A cable to the prefecture +of Police of the city of Paris from Captain Cronin will bring details. +That should be an added link in the chain, within the next twenty-four +hours. I am going to leave you for the while, as I wish to investigate a +certain yacht which is moored in the East River. That yacht is there for +a purpose--you remember his reference to the payment of supplies for +a two-month cruise. My amateurish vanity leads me to a hope that I can +capture him just at the crucial moment when he thinks he is successful +in his escape from pursuit.” + +“That is the childishness of the masculine mind,” retorted Helene. “You +say we women are illogical, but we are essentially practical in the +small things. I would advise closing the doors before the horse escapes, +rather than a chase from behind!” + +“Perhaps,” answered Monty, “but the uncertainty does allure me. I always +enjoyed skating on thin ice, from the days of college when I loved to +get through a course of lectures on as little work as possible. The +satisfaction of 'getting away with it' against odds was so exhilarating. +I will return after my little dinner with Warren at the Club. Where will +you dine?” + +“Your friend Dick Holloway is taking me to some restaurant where singing +and music may alter my refusal to him.” + +“Your refusal?” and Shirley shot a quick glance at the girl. Her dimples +appeared as she added: “Yes--he wants me to star in a little play for +the coming spring, but I have had such fun playing in real-life drama +that I said him nay.” + +“Oh,” was all the criminologist said, but as he left, Helene's laugh +interpretated a little feminine satisfaction. Monty's mind was just +disturbed enough about the attitude of Dick Holloway to keep him from +worrying over the Warren case until he had reached the East River, near +the yacht club mooring. + +There was the white yacht which had been mentioned in the purloined +book. It was a trim, speedy craft. The criminologist walked down a few +blocks to the office of a boat contractor with whom he had dealt on +bygone occasions. + +“I want to engage a fast motor-boat, Mr. Manby,” was his request. “The +speediest thing you've got. Keep it down at your dock, at Twenty-first +Street, with plenty of gasoline and a man on duty all the time, starting +with six o'clock to-night. I may need it at a minute's notice.” + +“I've got a hydroplane which I'll sell this spring to some yachtsman,” + said Manby. “It's a bargain--you can do forty miles an hour in it, +without getting a drop of spray. Shall I show it to you?” + +“Yes, and the two men who you will have alternating on duty, so they +will know me when I come for it. I'll pay for every minute it is +reserved.” + +They soon came to terms; the men were introduced and Shirley was well +satisfied with the racing craft, which was moored according to his +directions, handy for a quick embarkation. + +Then he went up to the Holland Agency. Cronin was disappointed in +his results with the telephone confederate. All of Warren's men were +close-mouthed, as though through some biting fear of swift and unerring +vengeance for “squealing.” Even the prisoners in the station-house had +not volunteered to communicate with friends, as they were allowed to +do by law. They were “standing pat,” as the old detective declared in +disgust. + +“That proves one thing,” remarked the criminologist. “They are not local +products, or they would have friends other than their chief on whom to +call for bail or aid. Their whole work centers on him. I think I will +send a code message to this man Phil this afternoon or evening. He may +be able to read it, and if he does, it may assist us. I wish you would +have a man call on Miss Marigold at the California Hotel, so that she +may know his face. Then keep him covering her for they are apt to get +suspicious of her and try to quiet her. She is a game and fearless girl, +but she is no match for this gang.” + +Cronin assigned one of the men immediately, and the sleuth took up a +note of introduction to Helene, in which Monty explained the need for +his watch. + +Shirley then repaired to the club house to await his dinner guest. He +was thoughtful about the alacrity of Warren to dine with him. There was +more to this assumed friendliness than the mere desire to talk to him. + +“I wonder if he wants to keep me occupied for some certain reason?” + pondered the club man. “Helene is protected now by a silent watcher. The +members of the Lobster Club are all out of the city. Van Cleft is safe +on the ocean. They must be laying a trap. I wonder where that trap would +be?” + +As he looked about his rooms he realized that many important pieces of +evidence were locked up in his chests and the small safe. His bedroom, +in the uppermost floor of the club building, was in a quiet and less +frequented part of the house. Shirley summoned one of the shrewd +Japanese valets who worked on the dormitory floors of the building. + +“Chen,” he began. “Are you a good fighter?” + +The Mongolian grinned characteristically. Shirley took out a bill, and +handed it to the little fellow. + +“I have reason to think some one may come into my rooms to-night, while +I am busy downstairs. How would you like to lock yourself on the inside +of my clothes closet, and wait? The air is not very good, but with this +ten dollars you could take a nice ride in the country to-morrow, and get +lots of good oxygen in your lungs to make up for it.” + +Chen was a willing little self-jailer. Shirley handed him his own +revolver, and the slant eyes sparkled with glee at the opportunity for +some excitement. Americans may carp at the curious manners and alleged +shortcomings of the Oriental, but personal fear does not seem to be in +the category of their faults. So, with this little valet, who improved +his time, as Shirley had discovered, by taking special courses in +Columbia University's scientific department. The criminologist had used +him on more than one occasion when Eastern subtlety and apparent lack of +guile had accomplished the impossible! + +The closet door was closed, and Shirley went downstairs. At the desk of +the, club clerk he sent a cablegram to the police authorities of Paris. +The message was simple + +“Cable collect to Holland Detective Agency name and record of man in +Montfleury case, August, 1914. Do you want him?................. Cronin, +Captain.” + +Shirley smiled as he handed the envelope to the little messenger who had +been summoned, and made his exit through the front doorway just as the +affable Reginald Warren entered it: another instance of “ships that pass +in the night,” was the thought of the host who advanced courteously. + +“You are on time to the minute: German training, I see. Let the boy have +your hat and coat, Mr. Warren.” + +These little amenities completed, they sauntered about the beautiful +building, Shirley pointing out the many interesting photographs of +athletic teams, trophies, club posters, portraits of famous graduates, +and the like, which seem part and parcel of collegiate atmosphere. +Warren was profoundly interested, yet there was an abstraction in his +conversation which was not unobserved by his entertainer. As they passed +a tall, colonial clock in the broad hallway, Shirley caught him glancing +uneasily at it. This was the second time he had looked at its silvered +face since they came into the range of it. Purposely the club man took +him down the length of the big dining-hall, to exhibit the trophies of +the hunt, from jungles and polar regions, contributed by the sportsmen +members of past classes. Here Shirley chatted about this and that boar's +head, yonder elephant hide, the other tiger skin, until he had consumed +additional time. As they passed into the lounging room Shirley led his +guest past another small mahogany clock. Again the sharp, anxious +glance at the progress of the minutes. He was convinced by now that some +deviltry was being perfected on schedule time. He began to worry over +his little assistant on the floor high above: perhaps he would not be +able to cope with the plotters, after all. Yet, Chen was wiry, cunning, +and needed no diagrams as to the purpose for which he was to guard the +rooms. + +At last Shirley led Warren to the grill-room where they ordered their +dinner: the supreme test of a gentleman is his taste in the menu for a +discriminating guest. Warren sensed this, as the delicious viands and +rare old wines were brought out in a combination which would have warmed +the heart cockles of the fussiest old gourmon from Goutville! + +“Ah, a feast fit for the gods,” were his admiring words, as the two men +smiled across this strange board of hospitality. In the midst of +the meal, their chat of student days was interrupted by a page who +approached Shirley. + +“Begging your pardon, sir, but I have a note which was left here by +messenger for a gentleman named Mr. R. Warren; your guest, I believe, +sir?” + +Warren's face flushed, and his surprise was indubitable. He snatched +the envelope from the boy, who had reached it toward Shirley. The +criminologist was no less in the dark. Warren, with a scant apology, +tore open the missive. It was typewritten! He read it, and his brows +came together with an angry scowl. + +He arose from his seat swiftly, turning toward Shirley with a nervous +twitching of the erstwhile firm lips. + +“Would you pardon me if I ran? A Wall Street client of mine has suddenly +been stricken with apoplexy. We have deals together, dependent upon +gentlemen's agreements, without a word of writing. It may mean a fortune +to get to him before he loses all power of speech. It is a shame to +spoil, at this time, such a wonderful dinner as I had promised myself +with you. Can you forgive me?” + +The man was visibly panic-stricken, although his superb nerve was +fighting hard to cover his terror. Shirley wondered what news could have +fallen into his hand this way. He watched the envelope, hoping that he +would inadvertently drop it. But no such luck! Warren carefully folded +it and put it with the letter into the breast pocket of his coat. + +“My dear fellow, business before indigestion, always! I am sorry to have +you go, but we will try again. I will go upstairs with you. Shall I call +a taxicab for you?” + +Warren expostulated, but the host followed him to the check room. Unseen +by Warren, Shirley inserted a handkerchief from his own pocket into the +overcoat pocket of the other with a sleight-of-hand substitution, in the +withdrawal of the guest's small linen square! + +Warren rushed to the door. He sprang into the first taxicab that came +along, and disappeared. Shirley watched the car as it raced away and +noticed its number. He turned to the door man. + +“Whose machine was that? On the regular club stand here?” + +“Yes, sir. A man named Perkins drives it, sir.” + +“Will it return here as soon as the fare is taken to the end of the +trip?” + +“Yes, sir, they have orders for that. They belong to a gent who supplies +cars for our club exclusively, sir. They are not allowed to take outside +passengers.” + +“Very good! You send for me, in my rooms, as soon as the driver of the +car shows up. I want to find out where he went.” + +Shirley hurried up in the lift to his own floor. He went to the door of +his room, and tried to open it with his key. It was bolted from inside! +There came a muffled report from within. Then he heard a cry, which +he recognized as the voice of Chen, the Jap. He dropped to the floor, +listening at the crack--a scuffle was in progress within! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. A BURGLARY FOR JUSTICE + + +Shirley rose, and once more applied that gridiron-trained boot of his: +this time to the lock of the door. Two doses resulted in a complete cure +for its obstinacy. As he rushed into the room, he saw a figure swing out +of the window on a dangling rope. He hesitated--the desire to chase +this intruder to the roof of the club struggled with his duty to the +unfortunate Jap, who lay on the floor, where he was being garroted by a +burly ruffian in a chauffeur's habiliments. He sprang toward his little +assistant, and made quick work of the big man. + +As he threw the other, with one of his “silencer” twists of the neck +cords, the Jap sprang up. A demoniac anger twisted that usually smiling +countenance, and it took all of Shirley's strength, to wrest away the +automatic revolver from the maddened valet, to prevent swift revenge. + +“Why, Chen. He's caught. Don't shoot him now!” + +Chen, with a voluble stream of Nagasaki profanity, spluttered in rage, +and strove like a bantam rooster to get at his antagonist. The necessity +for quieting him to prevent bloodshed was fatal to the pursuit of the +other man, as Shirley realized bitterly. The servants were running to +the room by this time. The club steward opened the battered door, and +Shirley turned to explain. + +“You have a brave little man, here, Cushman. Chen heard this burglar +in my room, and tried to capture him at the risk of his own life. He +deserves promotion and a raise in salary. Go downstairs and call the +police. We'll have this fellow locked up!” + +The man glared at Shirley, and rubbed his throat which throbbed from the +vice-like grip of the jiu-jitsu. Chen still breathed hard and his almond +eyes rolled nervously. At last he was quiet again, although the slender +fingers twitched hungrily for a clawing of that dirty neck. Shirley +patted him on the back. Judgment had come to another of the gangsters, +and the criminologist was pleased at the diminution in the ranks of his +opponent. + +An examination of his cabinet and dresser drawers showed that the +pillaging had barely begun when Chen popped out of his hiding-place. +It was no wonder that Warren had been so solicitous as to the speeding +time: intuition had once more intervened to interrupt these well-laid +schemes. + +The little Jap could tell barely more of his adventure than that he had +opened the door when he heard men walking and talking in the room. Then +the struggle had ensued, with the result already described. + +Now, indeed, was Shirley more puzzled than ever at Warren's sudden +departure. It had upset the plans of the conspirators: it was an +unwelcome surprise to their Chief. And furthermore it had interfered +with a little scheme of the criminologist by which he had expected to +craftily imprison his guest for the remainder of the night. + +The room was put in order--not much was there to rearrange, for the +tussle had come so promptly. With a final look at his belongings, +Shirley left Chen in charge, not forgetting to slip to him another +reward for his courage. + +Then he went downstairs and hurried over to the Hotel California to hold +a conference of war with Helene Marigold. + +She was nervous, as she greeted him. Yet a subtle smile on her face +showed that she was not surprised by the visit. Shirley quickly outlined +the occurrences of the dinner hour. When he asked her opinion, for he +had learned to place a growing trust in her quick grasp of things, she +walked silently to her typewriter. + +“Here, sir, is a little note which may amuse you.” + +She handed him a piece of paper. It read: + +“Chief: The Monk has turned up at the Blue Goose on Water Street. He is +drunk and telling all he knows. Come down at once to help us quiet him. +Hurry or every thing will be known. You know who.” + +Shirley looked at the message, and then with tilted eyebrows at his fair +companion. + +“What do you know about the Blue Goose?” he asked. “And the Monk? For I +presume that you wrote this out?” + +“Your presumption is correct. I remembered hearing Warren ask Taylor +this afternoon after that telephone call from you, where the Blue Goose +saloon could be. Taylor told him it was a sailor's dive on Water Street. +The night they thought me dreaming on his library couch, I heard Taylor +ask Warren if they had heard from the Monk. So, it seemed to me that +the two questions might interest Mr. Reginald Warren if presented in a +language that he understood.” + +“And what was that language?” + +“It was a code message, which I typed out on this Remwood machine here, +by the system you told me. It was slow work, but I finished it and sent +it over to the club, knowing Warren would be with you. I really don't +know what good the message would do. But being an illogical woman, and +a descendant of Pandora, I thought it would be amusing to open the +Pandora's box and let all the little devils loose, just to see the +glitter of their wings!” + +Shirley caught her hands delightedly. + +“You bully girl! Nothing could have happened better. I'll improve my +time now, by visiting Mr. Warren's apartment, impolite as it is without +an invitation. And then I think I will go calling in that little cave of +the winds in the rear of his art collection, on the other street.” + +“But, Monty--I Mean, Mr. Shirley,” and a rosy embarrassment overcame +her, “you will put your head into the lion's mouth once too often. Why +not wait until you get him under lock and key?” + +“My dear girl, we will telephone my club and talk to the door man. I +think that he may be under lock and key by this time, in a manner you +little suspect. Let me have the number.” + +He went to the instrument on her dressing-table. The club was soon +reached, and Dan the door man was answering his eager question. + +“Yes, sir, the taxi has come back, sir.” + +“Send the chauffeur to the wire. I want to talk to him,” said Shirley. +The man was soon speaking. “What address did you take that gentleman to, +my man?” + +“Why, sir, I started out for the Battery, but sir, a terrible thing +happened.” + +“What was it?” + +“The gentleman was overcome with an ep'leptic stroke or somethin' like +that. He pounded on the winder behind me, and when I stopped me car, and +looked in he was down an' out. I was on Thirty-third Street and Fift' +Avenue at the time, so I calls a cop, and he orders me to run 'im over +to Bellevue. He's there now, sir. He ain't hardly breathin', sir. It's +terrible!” + +“Too bad, I must go and call, to see if I can help him!” was Shirley's +remark as he hung up the receiver. He repeated the news to Helene. Her +eyes sparkled, as she said: “Ah, those symptoms resemble the ones you +told me which came from that amo-amas-amat-citron, or whatever it was.” + +“Not quite such a loving lemon, Miss Marigold,” he chuckled. “Amyl +nitrite. The same soothing syrup which quieted our would-be robbers on +Sixth Avenue, that night when we left his apartment. It will wear off +in about three hours. I had a little glass container folded in my own +handkerchief, which I put in his overcoat pocket as a parting souvenir, +crushing it as I did so. I reasoned that undue anxiety which he +displayed might cause him to mop his brow, close to that student-duel +scar. One smell of the chemical on that handkerchief, in the quantity +which I gave, was enough to quiet his worries. Now for the Somerset +Apartment.” + +He looked at his watch. + +“It is eight fifteen. I want you to telephone up to Warren's apartment +exactly at ten o'clock. Tell them--there should be a them, that I have +been overcome in your apartment, and that they are the only people who +can help you, or who know you. I believe that the idea of finding me +unconscious, and getting me away will bring any and all of his friends +who may be there. If Taylor is there with others, he will hardly leave +them in the place when he goes. What I want is to be sure that the coast +is cleared of people at that hour. Then I will make an investigation +into his papers and other matters of interest. Can I count on you?” + +A reproachful pouting of the scarlet lips was the only answer. Shirley +left, this time hurrying uptown to a certain engine-house, whose fire +captain he had known quite well in the old reportorial days. + +It was beginning to snow once more. And as Shirley slipped out of the +engine-house, carrying a scaling ladder which he had borrowed after much +persuasion from his good-natured friend, he thanked his luck for this +natural veiling of the night, to baffle eyes too curious about the +campaign he had planned. He knew the posts of the policemen on this +street, and sedulously avoided them. + +The Warren apartment faced the Eastern side of the structure, and when +he reached the front of the Somerset, he sought for a way in which +to use his implement. A scaling ladder, it may be explained to the +uninitiated, is about eight feet long--a single fire-proof bar, on which +are short cross-pieces. At one end is a curiously curving serrated hook, +which is used for grappling on the sills of windows or ledges above. +It is the most useful weapon for the city fire-fighter, enabling him to +climb diagonally across the face of a threatened structure, or even +to swing horizontally from one window to a far one, where ladders and +hose-streams might not reach. + +A hundred feet to the West of the Somerset he found the excavations for +a new apartment house. No watchman was in sight, in the mist of falling +flakes, so the criminologist disappeared over the fence which separated +the plot of ground from the sidewalk. Advancing with many a stumble +through the blasted rock and shale, he obtained ingress to an alleyway +in the rear. Following this brought him to the back of the Somerset. +Shirley had an obstinate grandfather, and heredity was strong upon him. +It seemed a foolhardy attempt to scale the big structure, but he raised +the ladder to the window-sill of the second story, climbing cautiously +up to that ledge. + +On the second sill he rested, then stretched his scaler diagonally +forward to the left. As he put his feet upon this, he swung like a +pendulum across the space. It was a severe grueling of nerves, but his +judgment of placement was good. When the ladder stopped swinging he +clambered up another story, as he had learned to do on truant afternoons +wasted at the firemen's training school, during the privileged days of +journalistic work. + +Floor after floor he ascended, until he reached the eighth, on which was +Shirley's great goal. Here he exerted the utmost prudence, refraining +from the natural impulse to look down at the great crevasse beneath +him. His footing was slippery, but the thickening snowfall was a boon +in white disguise, for it protected him from almost certain observation +from the street below. Slowly he raised his eyes to a level with the +illuminated window, and peered in. + +A strange sight greeted him. + +Shine Taylor was busily engaged in the 'twisting of coils of wire, about +shiny brass cylinders, with an array of small and large clocks, electric +batteries and mysterious bottles on the carved library table. He was +intent upon the manufacture of another of his diabolical engines of +death! + +Even as he watched, the door opened and who should stagger into the room +but Reginald Warren! + +“Great Scott, Reg! What hit you?” was Taylor's ejaculation, as the +other stumbled forward, with a hand to his purple face, to sink into an +easy-chair, groaning. The man outside the window could not distinguish +the words, but the current of thought was well expressed in pantomime. + +“I've been drugged!” moaned Warren. “That devil put something on my +handkerchief which knocked me out. I came to in Bellevue and I had a +time getting away to come back here. What about the Monk? Did you see +him?” + +Taylor had run to his side. It seemed as though Warren's eyes would pop +from his head. The veins were swollen on his pallid brow, and he gasped +for air. + +“Open the window!” he murmured, and his confederate rushed to the very +portal through which the criminologist was watching this unusual +scene, with bated breath. His heart sank, as he lowered himself with +a suddenness which vibrated the loosely-attached scaler. For the first +time his eyes turned toward the terrifying distance from which he had +ascended. + +There was a squeak and he heard the window slide in its frame. He +felt that all was over. It would be impossible for Shine Taylor not to +observe the hooked prong of the ladder, with its curving metal a few +inches from his hands. In this ghastly minute of suspense, Shiley's +thoughts, strangely enough turned back to one thing. He did not +dash through the gamut of his life experiences nor regret all past +peccadilloes, as novelists inform us is generally the ultimate thought +in the supreme moment before a dash into eternity! He felt only a +maddening, itchingly bewitching desire to reach up to his coat pocket +and draw out that scent-laden page of typed note-paper which had been +glorified by its caress of the warm, bare bosom of the wonderful woman +who had so mysteriously drifted into the current of his life. + +Then he heard a voice through the open window so close to his ears: it +was Shine Taylor's nasal whine. + +“It's snowing, Reg. The air will do you good. What a gorgeous night for +a murder. Tell me now, what was the trouble?” + +And Shirley swung, and swung and swung! + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. IN THE DOUBLE TRAP + + +Eternity had passed, the Judgment Day had been overlooked and new aeons +had gone their way, it seemed to the criminologist, when the voice was +audible again. + +“Oh, all right. I just drew it down from the top. Tell me about your +doping. Who was the devil?” + +He had been unobserved. By the grace of the fates, Warren's sudden +appearance had given him a better chance to hear their secrets, and +Taylor's own abstraction had dissipated any interest in the world beyond +the window. Again he lifted himself to the level of the sill, sure that +the creamy curtains upon which the light from the big electrolier +was beaming, would shield him from their view. Warren called for some +brandy. Taylor served him, but it was three minutes or more before the +other could collect himself. Then he began furiously, as the pain in his +forehead diminished. + +“This Shirley: he's a clever dog. He put something on my handkerchief, +and when I got that message of yours it got me, right in the taxicab, as +I was on my way to the Blue Goose to meet you.” + +“To meet me?” and Taylor's turn came to be startled. “I don't know why +you should meet me at the Blue Goose!” + +“Say, didn't you send me this note in code?” demanded Warren, drawing +out the typewritten sheet. Taylor shook his head, with a blanched face. + +The other looked at him with the first evidence of fear which Shirley +had ever seen on the confident face. Warren caught his assistant's hand, +and drew his face down toward the note. + +“Look, it is in our code. Phil can read it but he is the only one beside +you. He is locked up in jail, and couldn't reach a typewriter. I got a +message from him this afternoon that he wouldn't squeal. You know how he +smuggled it out to me. Tell me how could any one know about the Monk and +write this so?” + +Taylor shook his head, speechless. As he turned his face toward the +window Shirley observed the great drawn shadows under his squinting +eyes. The sudden shock was telling on that weasel face. Taylor walked +unsteadily toward the infernal machine, and he looked blankly toward +Warren again. The other's blazing orbs were full upon him now. There was +a frightful menace in their glittering depths as he spoke. + +“Taylor, if I thought you had sold out I'd skin you alive right now!” + +“Reg--Reg--you are my best friend. Don't say a thing like that.” + +“Are you selling me for some purpose. Are you soft on that chicken? Has +she blarneyed you into this?” demanded his chief, rising, unsteadily, +but fierce in his suspicious tensity. + +Taylor cowered, with imploring hands stretched out. + +“Why, Reg, no one ever did for me what you've done. I'd die rather than +sell you out, and there ain't a dame in the world that could make me +soft on a real game like this.” + +As Warren studied his white face there came a tinkle on the telephone. + +“What's that? Who's that?” Warren turned and ran toward the instrument, +still studying the face of his companion. It was evident that a seed of +distrust was planted in his bosom. He answered nervously. + +“Yes, yes! What do you want? Who's speaking?” + +Then he listened, and a wise expression came over his face. It broke +into a smile for the first time since he entered the room. He winked at +Taylor who drew near him. Shirley strained his ears to catch the words. + +“Yes, yes, why, my dear Miss Bonbon. Surely, I'll be glad to come +down--To help take care of Mr. Shirley--Of course, I will come in my +machine and bring him uptown to a hospital--That's what you want?--Yes, +indeed, nothing would give me greater pleasure.” + +He rang off, and turned toward Taylor. + +“That smooth devil has sniffed some of his own dope as sure as you live, +Shine. We'll get him. Call up and have the machine sent around. You and +I will be a committee of two, and we'll end this tonight. Bring what you +need.” + +Warren drank another full glass of brandy, while Taylor gave a quick +order over the telephone. Then the latter snatched up a small black +satchel which was standing on a side table. The assistant came to the +window, and Shirley dropped down out of sight, for another moment of +suspense. But the sash was quickly closed and bolted. + +The light was turned out, and he waited another five minutes, stiffening +in the cold wind which had sprung up to send the big flakes in eddies +against his numbed fingers. With difficulty he fished out a long, thin +wire from his pocket, with which he had frequently turned the safety +catch of windows on other such occasions. Again it served its purpose, +and he drew himself up to the sash of the opened window. He brushed off +the snow, so as to leave no telltale puddles of drippings. He went to +the door of the library, and then to that of the vestibule. + +It was locked from the outside, even as they had done when Helene was +the drowsy prisoner. + +He had little time, he knew, for his search, but he first thought of +the girl's predicament. He must cover the tracks there. He took up the +receiver, and in a minute was talking to her. + +“I'm in. Leave word downstairs (and pay the clerk and bell-boy a good +bribe) that you have gone to a hospital with a sick friend. Tell them +to swear to that, and better still leave the hotel at once, hunt up +Dick Holloway--you'll find him at the Thespis Club to-night. Send in the +chauffeur to ask for him and have him stay with you in the machine. I am +going to visit the other place when I finish here. I'll be down there, +at the Thespis Club, by eleven again. Good-bye--use your wits.” + +Then he began a hurried ransacking of the apartment. He picked up a +note-book here, sheets of memoranda there, letters and documents which +he thought would be convenient. Warren's bedrooms were locked, but a +small “jimmie” sufficed to force them open. He found in one drawer a +dozen or more bank books, with as many different financial houses, and +under many names. This he shoved into his pockets. At last, satisfied +that he could gain no more, he retreated to the window. He shut this +and was once more on the windowsill. Here he looked down, and a new +inspiration came to him. He would have difficulty in getting admission +to the apartment entrance, at this time of night. The attendant would +remember him and warn Warren upon the latter's return. It was but one +more climb, a single story, to the roof. So, up he went, deserting the +faithful scaling ladder on the roof, for the time being. + +He sought around for several minutes on the snowy, slippery surface +before he found the entrance to the iron stairway close by the elevator +shaft. Then he went softly down. + +Past Warren's apartment, on his way without a noise, his boots off, he +continued until he reached the second floor. Here he was baffled again. +Why had he not taken some impression of the pass-key of the negro +attendant when let in before? Yet now he remembered that the man had +never relinquished his hold upon that open sesame. He remembered the +“jimmy”--yet this would betray him, by the broken lock! + +There was the servant's entrance, however, in the rear of the hallway. +To this he slipped, even as the elevator passed up bearing Warren and +Shine Taylor, muttering angrily. Shirley found the rear door to the +rooms, and there he worked quickly, forcing the lock. He was soon +inside, and hid himself in the pantry of the darkened apartment. He had +not long to wait. + +There was a clicking noise which reverberated through the empty room, +as the other two entered by the front portal. He heard them talking in +whispers, then the creaking of a window, and all was silent again. + +Shirley went to the same small window through which he had descended +before. With his boots tied together by their laces, and suspended from +his neck, on either side, he went down the rope noiselessly. He found +the iron door partially opened, as he reached the end of the corridor. A +block of wood held it back from the jamb. + +“He is prepared for a quick retreat. So shall I be,” thought Shirley, +as he noiselessly crept into the chamber, after having drawn away the +wooden block. He let the door come gently to its frame, stopping it +within an inch of its lock. As he turned slightly forward he caught two +curious silhouettes: Warren at his table, with Shine at his side, their +outlines clear and black against the brightness of the headlights. +On, the other side of the transparent screen stood a man, with one +eye blackened, his face badly bruised and wicked in its battered +condensation of evil determination with rage and fright, so oddly mixed. + +“It ain't my fault, Chief! There are only six of the boys left. I tried +me best but this little Chinyman he soaks me one on the lamp, with a +gun butt. Me pal was nabbed in the room when I sneaks out on the rope. I +finds out afterward that Jimmie's watch must-a been about twenty minutes +slow. That's how we misses.” + +“But you didn't get him, and I'm going to break you for this!” + +“But gov'nor, listen--we leaves the machine all right. That'll git 'im +anyway. What'll I do?” + +“I have the addresses of the other men here in my pocket. You tell them +to stick right in their rooms for the next twenty-four hours. If they +don't hear anything from me, tell them to go to Frisco by roundabout +ways and I'll forward their money, care of Kelso. Now get out.” + +The man disappeared and there was a double click as the door to the +front compartment closed. Warren turned toward Taylor, While Shirley +flattened himself against the rear wall, and crouched down slowly, +without a betraying sound. + +“I don't understand that girl not being there. Some one's closing in on +us. I'm going to break that girl's spirit before I'm through. She'll be +on the yacht tonight, for everything's ready now. What sort of a machine +did you arrange for his room?” + +“The old telephone one we worked in Oakland. It is under his bed. I told +the men to do that first before they went through his things. Then it +would look like plain robbery, and when he goes to take the receiver +off the hook it's 'good-night, nursey!' That little popper will blow the +roof off that club house!” + +Shirley's blood might have run cold at the calm pride of this degenerate +fiend, had it not been boiling at the reference to Helene. He crept +nearer to them, along the wall. He lay down on the floor, below the +level of the first bullet paths. Then he drew his automatic and the bulb +light, ready for his surprise. + +“I'll call up Kick Brown at the telephone company. He's on duty until +twelve. That's an hour yet.” + +He placed the plug in position but there came no answer over his private +wire. Warren cursed: this time in a dialect unknown to Shirley. The man +was asserting his most primitive nature now. + +“What does that mean? He knows that it's important to-night. I wonder if +some one has squealed. You know what I said upstairs, Shine?” Warren's +voice was ominous. “I don't like the looks of things. And you're the +only one who has ever known the inside working of my system. I've even +told you the key to my code--Phil knows it in part, but there is nothing +I've kept from you.” + +Here Shirley's dramatic instinct asserted itself. In a sepulchral voice, +he spoke: “One key to the right, in writing. One to the left to read. +Hands up, Warren, you're wanted in Paris, and we have the goods on you!” + +Placing the bulb light far to his left, he twisted the little catch +which kept it glowing permanently. The light fell full on the face of +Warren and Taylor as they sprang up back to back! + +“Drop that revolver. It's all up now. You go to the chair for these +murders.” + +Warren shot for the body he supposed to be above the little light. As he +did so Shirley sent a bullet into the arch criminal's right wrist. +The weapon dropped from his hand to the table. Shine Taylor, +terror-stricken, staggered against his companion, groping for support. +Warren misunderstood it: he thought his assistant was trying to hold +him. The swift interpretation gave new fuel to the flame of mistrust +which had sprung up in his heart. He knew not how many men were +about him--he merely realized that his crafty plans had been set at +naught,--there could be only this one explanation. He struck at Taylor, +who moaned in pain. + +“You cur, you've squealed on me!” With his uninjured left hand he caught +the other in his Oriental death grip, with all his consummate skill. +Astonished at the sudden move, Shirley rose to his feet. But he +hesitated too long. + +With a faint gurgle, Shine Taylor, pickpocket, mechanical artist and +criminal genius sank to the mouldy ground of the cellar--lifeless! + +Shirley snatched up the light, instinctively throwing its rays upon the +face of the dead man. It was horrible to see this ghastly ending of the +miserable life, so suddenly conceived and grewsomely executed! Here was +Warren's opportunity. He caught up his weapon from the table with the +left hand, and sent a shot at the intruder, leaping at the same time +toward the rear entrance. Monty swung the light about, but the other +threw on an electric switch. He stood by the iron portal a fiendish +smirk on his distorted features. + +“So, my luck is good after all: I've got you where I most want you!” His +weapon covered Shirley's. “I shoot as well with my left hand as with +my right. But, no, I won't shoot you. I'll put you away without a +trace left. That is always the clever way. I told you that the average +criminal was too careless about little things. Good-bye, Mr. Montague +Shirley, I wish you a pleasant journey!” + +His hand, bleeding from the bullet wound, was pushing the iron door, +behind him as he faced Shirley. Suddenly a frightful sound broke the +stillness: it was the final exhalation of air from the dead man's lungs. +It sent a creeping chill through Shirley's blood. Warren's right hand +dropped, nervously for an instant, despite his resolution. In that +second Shirley had brought his own weapon up to a level with the other's +eyes. + +The door closed with a clang! + +Warren's face lost its sneering smile. He was locked in from the rear! + +“Now, let's see you get out the front way,” retorted the criminologist. +He had one hand behind him. He felt a metal contrivance, With three +buttons on it. He thought perhaps it were the controlling switch for +the lights. He would take his chances in the dark. He pressed all three +quickly. + +There was a clang from the front, as some mechanism whirred for an +instant. A gong sounded above, and scurrying feet could be heard--then +were audible no more. It was the warning alarm for the gangsters: they +had fled. + +Suddenly to Shirley's straining ears came the tick-ticking of an alarm +clock, from the corner of the room to his right. He dare not look at it. +Warren's eyes grew black with the Great Fear! + +“You fool, you've locked all the entrances, and sent the men away. That +clock will ring in exactly five minutes. When it does, this place will +go up from a load of lyddite. You've dug your own grave!” + +Warren's voice was hoarse, and his bright eyes radiated venomously, as +he kept his weapon pointed, like Shirley's, at the face opposite. They +were both prisoners in the death cellar, with the advantage in favor of +neither! + +And the ticking clock, with its maddening, mechanical death chant +seemed to Shirley to cry, with each beat, like the reminiscence of some +nightmare barbershop: “Next! Next! Next!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. CAPTURED AND THEN + + +Warren's white lips were moving in perfect synchronism, as he counted +the seconds and ticks of the clock. Shirley, never so acute, cudgeled +his mind for some devise by which he might overcame the other. It was +hopeless. At last, just as he knew the inevitable second was almost +completed, a faint rustling came from the other side of the iron door. +Warren's face brightened with hope. With a nerve-racking rasp, the iron +bar on the other side was raised: it was a torturing delay as the two +waited! + +The door slowly opened. After a harrowing pause a revolver muzzle slid +gently through the crack, and a woman's voice murmured softly: “Drop the +gun!” + +It was Helene Marigold! + +Warren's ashen face changed to purple hue, his hand trembled just +enough to incite Shirley to a desperate chance. As the criminal drew the +trigger with a spasmodic jerk, Shirley was dropping to the floor, whence +he pushed himself forward with a froglike leap, as he straightened out +the great muscles. + +Together they rolled in a frenzied struggle. + +“Run back, Helene. The clock will explode!” cried Shirley, desperately. +Instead, she sprang into the bright room, espied the diabolical +arrangement in the corner, and ran to pick it up. She saw the wire, and +her deft fingers reached behind the clock to turn back its hands. Had +she torn the wire, as a man would have done, the dreaded explosion would +have ended it all. + +“We're coming!” + +It was the voice of Pat Cleary from the passageway. He rushed through +the subterranean passage, followed by several men, with Dick Holloway +excitedly in their train. After a titanic struggle, with the man baffled +in this maddening moment of ruined triumph, they handcuffed him. + +Shirley led Helene into the front compartment before she could observe +the horror stamped upon the face of the murdered rogue. + +The girl turned her glorious eyes to his, reached forth her hands, and +then the eternal feminine conquered as she trembled unsteadily and sank +into his arms. + +“Break down the doors, Cleary. Out here, to the street. Pull off the +hands of that clock--it's a lyddite bomb!” cried Shirley, excitedly. + +One of the men used the table with clattering effect. The iron door of +the front room gave way, and Shirley carried Helene up the ladder, to +the main floor of the old garage. She seemed a sleeping lily--so pale, +so fragile, so fragrant in her colorless beauty. He had never seen her +so before! For an instant a great terror pierced him: she seemed not to +breathe. But as he placed his face close to her mouth, her eyes opened +for one divine look, then drooped again. A white hand and arm curled, +with childish confidence, about his shoulder. He bore her thus to the +big car from the Agency, which stood outside. + +“Quick, down to the Hotel California,” he called to the chauffeur, “Pat +Cleary can handle matters there.” + +As they sped toward her apartment the roses took their wonted place +in her cheeks. She sat up to smile in his face. Then she lowered +her glance, with carmine mounting hotly to her brow. Helene said no +word--nor did Shirley. She simply leaned toward him, to bury her face +upon the broad shoulder, as neither heeded the possible curiosity of the +driver on the seat in front. + +At least, they understood completely. There was nothing else to say! + + * * * + +As Shirley left her at the door of the apartment, he turned into the +elevator, his mind whirling with the strange imprisonment into which he +had let his unwilling heart drift. The clerk stopped him at the lower +floor. + +“There's a call for you, sir. It's rush, the gentleman said!” + +“Great Scott! What now?” he ran to the instrument, and he heard Captain +Cronin's excited voice. + +“Shirley. The man's escaped again! They just came into the place. He +threw some sort of bottle at the front of the patrol wagon which blew it +all to pieces. He got away in the mix-up--three policemen were injured!” + +“I'll get him, Captain, if it's the last act of my life.” + +To the surprise of the blase clerk, the well-known club man ran out of +the hotel, dropping his hat in his excitement. He shouted to the driver +who still waited in the agency machine. + +“The sky's the limit, now, son. Race for Twenty-first Street and the +East River. Let me off at the end of the dock. Then go back to get some +men from the agency, as I'll have a prisoner, then, or they'll get my +body!” + +The machine raced down the street, regardless of the warnings of +policemen. Shirley was confident that his was not the only car on such +a mission. He reached the dock of Manby, where was waiting the expert +engineer of the hydroplane. He had not planned in vain. + +“Have you seen an auto go past here before mine?” + +“Yes, sir, I was smoking me pipe, and settin' on the rail of the dock, +when one shoots up toward the Twenty-third Street Ferry, with a cop on a +motor-cycle chasin' it behind.” + +“Then, quick, into the boat.” + +They clambered down the wet ladder, and after an aggravating delay, the +whirring engines of the racing craft were started. Shirley took off his +coat, and lashed a long rope about his waist. He tied the other end of +it securely to a thwart in the boat. + +“What's your idee, Cap?” asked the engineer, as he waited the signal. + +“There's a man trying to catch that white yacht out in the river. I want +to get him, that's all. If I fall out of this boat, keep right on going, +for I'm tied up now. Where's the boat hook?” + +“Here, sir. Are you ready? Just give me your directions. All right, sir, +we're off.” + +Shirley grunted and the hydroplane sped out onto the river, in a big +curve, as he directed. Like a white ghost on the river was the trim +yacht, which even now could be seen speeding down the stream, all steam +up. There were two toots on the whistle and Shirley feared that his man +had boarded her. But the hydroplane, ploughing through the cold waves, +whizzed toward the yacht, as he climbed out to the small flat stern. A +small boat had swung close to the yacht now. A ladder had been lowered +from a spar, while a man standing in the little craft missed it. The +yacht was gliding past the boat, when another rope ladder was deftly +swung over the stern. + +The hydroplane was close up now, and Shirley saw his prey dangling at +the end of the ladder, now in the water, struggling with the rungs of +the ladder, and now being drawn up. + +His engineer, with a skilful hand on the helm, swung in close to the +yacht, as keen for the capture as his patron. They whizzed past at +almost railroad speed, and Shirley, sprang toward the ladder. His arms +closed about the body of Reginald Warren in a grip which he braced by a +curious finger-lock he had learned in wrestling practice. + +Two revolvers barked over the taffrail of the yacht, as the hydroplane +raced onward, dragging Shirley and his prisoner at the end of the rope, +through the water. Again the shots rang out, but they were out of range, +on the dark waters so quickly, that before the police boat had set +out from shore to investigate the firing from the pleasure vessel, the +criminologist's struggle with his wounded antagonist was over. + +Half drowned, himself, with Warren completely past consciousness, +Shirley was pulled into his own boat as the engines were slowed down. +They returned rapidly to the dock. + +“Help me work him--that was a pretty rough yank. He's been shot in the +hand already.” + +They rolled Warren on a barrel, “pumped” his arms, and by the time the +Cronin automobile had returned with the other detectives, Warren was +restored to understanding again. Shirley forced some liquor between his +teeth, to be greeted with a torrent of strange oaths. + +“The jig is up, Warren,” said the criminologist. “As a chess-player +in the little game, you are a wonder. But, I think I may at last call +'Checkmate.'” + +“I'm not dead yet, Shirley,” hissed Warren. “I gave you your chance to +keep out of this. But you wouldn't take it. I'll settle the score with +you before I'm finished. There's one man in the world who knows how to +get away from bars. I'm that man.” + +Then his teeth snapped together with a click. He said nothing more that +night, even during the operation for probing Shirley's bullet, and the +painful dressing. At the station-house, and his arraignment before the +magistrate at Night Court, where he saw some other familiar faces of +his fellow gangsters--now rounded up on the same charges--he still +maintained that feline silence. + +And his eyes never left the face of Montague Shirley, as long as that +calm young man was in sight! + +Shirley merely presented his charge of murder--for the strangling of +Shine Taylor. The names of the aged millionaires were not brought into +the matter--there was no need. He had done his work well. + +At Cronin's agency, late that night, there came a cablegram from the +greatest detective bureau of France. + +“The Montfleury case” was the most daring robbery and sale of state war +secrets ever perpetrated in Paris. It had been successful, despite the +capture, and conviction of the criminal, Laschlas Rozi, a Hungarian +adventurer who had killed three men to carry his point. The scoundrel +had escaped after murdering his prison guard, and wearing his clothes +out of the gaol. A reward of 100,000 francs had been offered for his +capture, by the Department of Justice. + +“Monty, who gets all the credit for this little deal--that's what's +bothering me?” asked Captain Cronin, as they sipped a toast of rare old +port, in his rear office. + +Shirley lit the ubiquitous cigarette, and tilted back in his chair. + +“Captain: why ask foolish questions? This case ought to buy you five or +six of those big farms you've been planning about--and leave you fifty +thousand dollars with which to pay the damages for being a gentleman +farmer.” + +“And you, Monty? You know you never have to present a bill with me. What +will you do with your pin money?” + +“I'm going down on Fifth Avenue tomorrow and invest it in a solitaire +ring, for a very small finger.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION + + +Shirley made some investigations in a private reading room of the +Public Library: there was much good treasure there, not salable over the +counter of a grocery store, mayhap, but unusually valuable in the high +grade work which was his specialty. In an old volume enumerating the +noble families of Austro-Hungary he found two distinguished lines, +“Laschlas” and “Rozi.” + +From the library he went to a cable office where he sent a message to +the chief of police of Budapesth inquiring about the remaining members +of the families. The old volume in the library was thirty-four years +behind the times: it was the only record obtainable in America. + +After a couple of hours, which he devote to some personal matters, he +received a response to his inquiry. When translated from the Hungarian +it read thus: + +“Professor Montague Shirley, College Club, N.Y., U.S.A. + +Families extinct except Countess Laschlas, and son Count Rozi Laschlas, +reported killed in Albanian revolution. + + Csherkini, Minister of Justice.” + +The criminologist was happy. Here was a weapon which he had not yet +used. Now he turned his steps towards the Tombs, for an interview with +the prisoner. + +After some parley with the warden, he was admitted for a visit to +Reginald Warren. That gentleman's fury was rekindled at the sight of +the club man who had been so instrumental in his downfall. But a cunning +smile played over the features of the criminal. + +“So, you have come to gloat over your work, Shirley? Well, it is a game +two can play.” + +“Yes? I am always interested in sport. I came to see if there was +anything I could do for you in your confinement,” was the unruffled +reply. + +“You will be busy with your own affairs,” retorted Warren. “I have been +busy writing my confession. Here is the manuscript. I will baffle all +your efforts to hush up the affairs of the 'Lobster Club.' Furthermore, +my confession,” (and he exultantly waved a mass of manuscript at his +visitor,) “will send young Van Cleft to prison for perjury on the +certificate of his father's death. Captain Cronin, that prince of +blockheads, will share the same fate. Professor MacDonald, who I know +very well signed the death certificates, will be disgraced and driven +from professional standing. You will be implicated in this plot to +thwart justice. With the German university thoroughness to which you so +sarcastically referred, I have written down the facts as carefully as +though I were preparing a thesis for a doctor's degree!” + +He laughed maliciously, studying the effect of his words. He was +disappointed. Shirley's bland manner changed not a whit. Instead the +criminologist offered him a cigarette. + +“You might as well smoke now--as later!” and there was a wealth of +innuendo in the emphasis. “Is that all you are going to do, to square +your accounts?” + +“By no means! As my trump card, I have implicated Miss Helene Marigold +in the various exploits which have been so successful now. She is +unknown in New York--I investigated that matter. She will have a fine +task in proving an alibi, after the careful preparation I have made. In +fact, I accuse her of being the mistress of my dead con'federate--” + +Shirley sprang to his feet, and the rage which was shown in his strong +features brought a leer to the face of the other. + +“Strike me,” continued the tormentor. “All I have to do is to call the +guard. I have been busy thinking since they locked me up here. There is +nothing more to do to me than the electric chair--but, I am not finished +yet.” + +The criminologist controlled himself with difficulty. He realized that +an altercation with the prisoner would shatter his whole case, like a +house of cards blown down by a vagrant breeze. He sat down again, the +mask of calm indifference playing over his features. + +“And what then?” + +“Is not that sufficient to interest you? It will be another month before +my trial, and my literary work has just begun. The newspapers are filled +with war news, which have ceased to be a nine days' wonder. I shall +provide them with material which will be the story of the age! Another +month, and then?” + +The prisoner lit the cigarette which he had accepted, and stretched back +in the plain wooden chair to enjoy the misery of his victim. + +“But, a month--let me see? That would enable me to do some corresponding +myself, wouldn't it?” and Shirley took out a memorandum book. “You have +degraded a splendid intellect, a gallant spirit and brought disgrace +upon yourself, for this miserable ending. You have ruthlessly murdered +others, caring naught for the misery and wretchedness of those left +behind. Has it been worth it all, Warren?” + +The other's eyes twinkled, as he nodded. + +“A wonderful game. And I haven't completed the score, even now.” + +“You are right, Warren. There is one soul more whom you have not +affected. It is too bad that you were not killed in the Albanian +revolution,--then you would have been on record as a hero instead of the +vilest scoundrel in Christendom.” + +Had the death-dealing current of the electric chair been turned upon +Warren he could not have been more startled, as he sprang up. His +pallid face seemed to turn a sickly green, as his dark eyes opened in +galvanized amazement. + +“Albanian--what do you mean? I never saw Albania!” + +“You will never see it again. You will never see Budapesth again, +either,” was the menacing continuation of the criminologist's methodical +speech. “But a very old lady, the Countess Laschlas, will see the +accounts of her son's wretched death, in the New York papers which will +be sent to her, in care of the American consul!” + +It was merely a deductive guess: but the shot struck the center of +the bull's-eye. Warren, alias Count Laschlas, staggered back, and his +nervous fingers touched the chilling surface of the stone wall. He +dropped his eyes, and then strove to regain his nonchalance. It was a +pitiable failure. + +“Just as you have dealt to the children of others, so will you deal +with your own mother, the last of a distinguished line of aristocrats. +I swear, by the memory of my own dead parents, that I will avenge the +misery you have given to the innocent. The good Book says, the sins of +the fathers shall be visited upon the children even unto the third and +the fourth generation. But life to-day has taught me that the sins of +the children are visited upon the fathers and the mothers--especially, +the sweet, loving, trusting mothers! As I value my honor, Reginald +Warren, or Count Rozi, I will see to it that your mother shall know +every detail of the whole miserable career of her son. That is my answer +to your alleged confession. If there is a hereafter, from which you may +observe that which follows your death, you will be able to see through +eternity the earthly punishment which has been visited upon the one +person whom you love and respect.” + +The criminal's ashen face was buried in his hands. + +Great sobs emanated from his white lips, as his shoulders heaved in a +paroxysm. + +Shirley had struck the Achilles tendon--the hardest wretch in the world +had one, as he knew! + +“Oh--oh--” he moaned, “the poor little mutter. She has forgiven so much, +suffered so much. You can't do it. You won't do it!” He fell to his +knees, clawing at the criminologist's garments with his trembling hands, +the tears streaming down his face. + +“What about those who have seen no compassion from you?” cried Shirley +in a terrible voice. “Your vanity, your self-worship! Do they not +comfort you now? This is only the suffering of another which you +contemplate! Why all these hysterics?” + +Warren, groveling on the floor of the reception-room, was a picture +of abject, horrid soul-torture. At last, through the subtlety of this +unconventional sleuth, along methods which were never dreamed of in the +ordinary police category, he had been broken on the wheel which he had +himself so cunningly constructed! + +“And if that mother dies, cursing your memory with her last breath, +cursing the love of the father, of her husband, of the ancestors, all +responsible for your being in the world today, what will you think, when +you watch from the other side of that great unseen wall?” + +“Oh, Shirley! I can't. See--I'll destroy this stuff. I'll keep silent +about the others. I mean it. Here: I tear it up now and give you the +pieces to burn!” + +Warren, maddened by his fears, nervously tore the sheets into bits and +pressed the remnants into the criminologist's hands. + +“Will you promise to keep my identity a secret?” + +“I will not send word to Budapesth. You have a bad record in Paris, +and other parts of the world. But, if you play fair on the confidential +nature of this case, saving the innocent from disgrace and shame, I will +see that the story never reaches your mother. There is no need to ask +this on your honor--that does not count.” + +Warren winced at this final thrust. He turned toward Shirley, eagerly. + +“You don't understand me at that, Shirley. I have had a curious career. +Somewhere I inherited a strain of criminality--you know how many +ancestors a man has in ten generations. I was a member of a poor but +prominent family. The government paid for my education in the best +universities of Europe, for I was to hold a position under the Emperor, +which had been held in my family for generations. But I was ruined by +the extravagances and the excesses which I learned from the rich young +men whom I met. I studied feverishly, yet was able to waste much time +with the gilded fools, by my ability to learn more quickly. The result +was that I could not be contented with the small salary of my government +office. I had to keep up appearances with my companions. So, I drifted +into gambling, into sharp tricks--then became a mercenary soldier, +an officer, in the continuous revolutions of the southeastern part of +Europe. I sank deeper and at last, in one serious escapade, I managed to +have myself reported dead, so as to quiet the heartaches of my mother, +who believed I was killed on the battlefield. There is the miserable +story--or all I will tell. They caught me in Paris and a girl betrayed +part of my name--fortunately they did not hunt me up, so my mother +was saved that disgrace. Will you keep the secret now, on our +understanding?” + +“I give you my word for that, Warren.” Shirley rose, putting the torn-up +papers into his pockets. “I am sorry for the past--but you have made the +present for yourself. Good-bye.” + +Warren returned to his cell and the detective to the club house. + +There he found an additional cable message. It said: “Countess Laschlas +has been dead ten months.” It was signed like the other. + +Shirley tore up the message, and blinked more than seemed necessary. + +“Poor little old lady, she knows it all now. I will not have to tell +her.” + + * * * + +That afternoon Shirley called again at the Hotel California for Helene. + +“I want you to go to a sweet, old-fashioned English tea-room, where I +may tell you the rest of the story. There will be no tango music, no +cymbals, no tinkling cocktails, nor, champagne. Can you pour real tea?” + +“I am an English girl. I have been five days without it.” + +As they were ensconced at the quaint little table, he realized how +wondrously blended in her was that triad of feminine essential spirits: +the eternal mother instinct, the sensuous strength of the wife-love and +the wistful allurement of maiden tenderness. + +“Does my great big boy wish three lumps of sugar, after his hard tasks?” + +“He'll die in the flower of immaturity if he has too many sweets in one +day.” + +He drew out his memorandum book, opening it to a closely-written page. + +“Before the confections, I must hand in my report to the commanding +officer.” + +“Advance three paces to the front, and hand over the details,” and she +added another lump of sugar, with a mischievous twinkle in the blue +eyes. + +“Very well, excellency. We transcribed the addresses of Warren's +gangsters from his note-book, and they have all been arrested. The men +we captured in the earlier skirmishes are all languishing in the tombs, +as accomplices in his crime, as well as for their attempts against my +own life. You will be astonished, Helene, at the revelations of his +operations as shown by his bank-books, a translation of that diary and +some of the letters which I took when I burglarized his rooms. I have +sent a code letter to Phil, advising him to confess all, and that +man's testimony adds to the corroboration. I went down to the District +Attorney with a full statement of the facts, leaving nothing unbared. +Like me, he agreed that it were best to let the law take its course, +demanding the full penalty, and saving the honor of a dozen families +who would have been dragged into the case, had not Warren laid himself +liable by the murder of his confederate, Taylor. That young man was an +electrical genius--with his brains misguided by his equally misdirected +employer. There is no chance of a miscarriage of justice, and Warren had +accumulated so much money that many of the victims of his organization +can be reimbursed in full.” + +“You have handled all this with a suspicious skill for a lazy society +man, with no experience in such matters.” + +Shirley understood the subtle sarcasm of the remark, but he proceeded +unruffled, to lull her suspicious. + +“I only tried to cover the points which meant happiness and peace of +mind to others. It was merely a matter of common or garden horse sense, +as we call it in America. Warren has been systematically robbing the +rich men of New York for three years, under various subterfuges. No +wonder he could afford such gorgeous collections of art, keeping aloof +from his associates in crime. His treasures, like those in many European +museums were bought with blood. It is curious how a complex case like +this smooths itself out so simply when the key is obtained. And you, +Helene, have been the genius to supply that key: my own work has been +merely corroborative!” + +He looked at the delicate features of the girl, remembering with a +recurring thrill the margin by which they had escaped death in the +cellar den of the conspirators. + +“Cleary and Dick Holloway told me how cleverly you led the men to the +Somerset where you followed my trail through the mole's passage. It was +a frightful risk for you to take: Cleary should have had more sense and +led the way himself.” + +Helene's lips pursed themselves into a tempting pout. + +“Are you not happier that it was I, at that supreme moment?” + +“Indeed I am: success was all the sweeter. There is remaining only one +mystery which I must admit is still unsolved in this curious affair. And +that is you. Who are you?” + +She parried with the same question. + +“I know your name, sir, but you profess to be a society butterfly, +flitting from pleasure to dissipation, and back again. Tell me the +truth, now, if ever.” + +“Why--gracious, Helene--of all the foolish questions!” He was adorably +boyish in his confusion. She laughed gleefully, like a happy schoolgirl. + +“Then, Monty Shirley, my score is better than yours, for I have every +mystery cleared. But while I know all about you, what frightful chances +you are taking with me!” + +Shirley reddened, as he burned his finger with the match which had been +raised to the end of his cigarette. He accused her of teasing, and she +glanced happily at the iridiscent solitaire upon the third finger of her +left hand. + +“Dear boy, I realize that I understand about you what you cannot fathom +with me. You are not a moth, but your self-sacrifice, and bravery in +this case are professional: you worked on this case as you have on +a hundred others: you are a very original and successful expert +in criminology. And I am not more than half bad at observation and +deduction, myself; now, am I, dear?” + +Shirley gracefully admitted defeat, with a question: “Who are you, +Helene? And who is dear old Jack?” + +The roses blossomed in her cheeks as she answered: “Jack is a very +sweet boy, ten years older than you in gray hair and the calendar, and +infinitely younger in worldly wisdom and intellect. He is an English +army officer, who was foolish enough to imagine he loved me, foolish +enough to propose every three days for the last three years and foolish +enough to bore me until in self-defense I escaped from his clutches. As +for myself, at least I am not the young woman who can stand staying in +that gaudy theatrical hotel for another day longer. I have done so many +bold, unmaidenly things that you may believe it easy for me. It is not. + +“I am truly a horrid, old-time, hoopskirt-minded prude. My first act of +domestic tyranny is to make you find a sedate, prim place for my work +and play, where I may know my own blushes when I see them in the mirror, +and will have less occasion to deserve them!” + +“Your work? What is that?” + +“It is very hard work--with a typewriter, but not in code. I will not +divulge my name until we tell it to the marriage license clerk. But Dick +Holloway knows me, and I came to this country, partly to see him. I +have written a few plays, which simple as they were, seemed to interest +European audiences and critics. Some of my novels have strangely enough +brought in royalties, despite the publishers! But, I became satiated +with life in England and on the Continent. I came here because I felt +that I needed life in a younger and newer country. I needed an emotional +and physical awakening.” + +“You have not wasted any time in drowsiness since you reached America.” + +“No--and all because I went to Holloway's office that fateful morning, +before I saw any one else in New York, to ask about a play which he is +to produce this spring. I confess that it was my first experience as an +actress. Will you forgive my deception?” + +Shirley nodded, as he studied the animated face with a new interest. He +admitted to himself that Holloway's prediction had come true--he had met +his match. + +“And so, my dear Helene (for such I shall always call you, whether your +really, truly name be Mehitabel, Samantha or Sophronisa) you came +here, went through all these horrors without a complaint, crushing +the independence of my confirmed bachelorhood for the sake of what we +newspaper men call copy?” + +Helene nodded demurely. + +“Yes, but it was such wonderful 'copy,' Monty boy.” + +The criminologist scowled over his cigarette, yet he could not feel as +unhappy as he felt this defeat should make him. + +“When will the 'copy' be ready for publication, my dear girl. It would +be most interesting, I fancy.” + +Helene caught his hand, drawing it toward her throbbing heart. Her wet +lips were almost touching his ear, as she confided, whisperingly, +with the blue eyes averted: “Only published in editions de luxe: some +bindings will be with blue ribbons, some with pink. All of them with +flexible backs and gloriously illumined by the Master's brush. The +authors' autographs will be on every copy to prove the collaboration, +and every volume will be a poem in itself.... But there, Montague dear, +I am a novelist--not a fortune-teller!” + +“How can I forecast the exact dates of publication?” + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Voice on the Wire, by Eustace Hale Ball + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOICE ON THE WIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 5672-0.txt or 5672-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/7/5672/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Voice on the Wire + +Author: Eustace Hale Ball + +Release Date: June 12, 2009 [EBook #5672] +Last Updated: March 14, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOICE ON THE WIRE *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE VOICE ON THE WIRE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Eustace Hale Ball + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> WHEN THREE IS + A MYSTERY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE + FLEETING PROMPTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + INNOCENT BYSTANDER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> A + SCIENTIFIC NOVELTY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE + MISBEHAVIOR OF THE 'PHONE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER + VI. </a> AN EXPERIMENT WITH THE “MOVIES” <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> ENTER A BEAUTIFUL + WOMAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> WHEN + GREEK MEETS GREEK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> IN + THE GARDEN OF TEMPTATION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. + </a> WHEN IT'S DARK IN THE PARK <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> A TURN IN THE TRAIL + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE + HAND OF THE VOICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> THE + SPIDER'S WEB <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> A + PILGRIMAGE INTO FRIVOLITY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER + XV. </a> CONCERNING HELENE'S FINESSE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE STRANGE AND + SURPRISING WARREN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> IN + WHICH SHIRLEY SURPRISES HIMSELF <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> + CHAPTER XVIII. </a> ON THE RISING TIDE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> AN EXPEDITION + UNDERGROUND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> A + DOUBLE ON THE TRAIL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. + </a> A BURGLARY FOR JUSTICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> + CHAPTER XXII. </a> IN THE DOUBLE TRAP <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> CAPTURED + AND THEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> CONCLUSION + <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. WHEN THREE IS A MYSTERY + </h2> + <p> + “Mr. Shirley is waiting for you in the grill-room, sir. Just step this + way, sir, and down the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + The large man awkwardly followed the servant to the cosey grill-room on + the lower floor of the club house. He felt that every man of the little + groups about the Flemish tables must be saying: “What's he doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish Monty Shirley would meet me once in a while in the back room of a + ginmill, where I'd feel comfortable,” muttered the unhappy visitor. “This + joint is too classy. But that's his game to play—” + </p> + <p> + He reached the sought-for one, however, and exclaimed eagerly: “By Jiminy, + Monty. I'm glad to find you—it would have been my luck after this + day, to get here too late.” + </p> + <p> + He was greeted with a grip that made even his generous hand wince, as the + other arose to smile a welcome. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Captain Cronin. You're a good sight for a grouchy man's eyes! Sit + down and confide the brand of your particular favorite poison to our + Japanese Dionysius!” + </p> + <p> + The Captain sighed with relief, as he obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Bar whiskey is good enough for an old timer like me. Don't tell me you + have the blues—your face isn't built that way!” + </p> + <p> + “Gospel truth, Captain. I've been loafing around this club—nothing + to do for a month. Bridge, handball, highballs, and yarns! I'm actually a + nervous wreck because my nerves haven't had any work to do!” + </p> + <p> + “You're the healthiest invalid I've seen since the hospital days in the + Civil War. But don't worry about something to do. I've some job now. It's + dolled up with all them frills you like: millions, murders and mysteries! + If this don't keep you awake, you'll have nightmares for the next six + months. Do you want it?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm tickled to death. Spill it!” + </p> + <p> + “Monty, it's the greatest case my detective agency has had since I left + the police force eleven years ago. It's too big for me, and I've come to + you to do a stunt as is a stunt. You will plug it for me, won't you—just + as you've always done? If I get the credit, it'll mean a fortune to me in + the advertising alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I handled every case for you in confidence. I'm not a fly-cop, + Captain Cronin. I'm a consulting specialist, and there's no shingle hung + out. Perhaps you had better take it to some one else.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley pushed away his empty glass impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “There, Monty, I didn't mean to offend you. But there's such swells in + this and such a foxey bunch of blacklegs, that I'm as nervous as a rookie + cop on his first arrest. Don't hold a grudge against me.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley lit a cigarette and resumed his good nature: “Go on, Captain. I'm + so stale with dolce far niente, after the Black Pearl affair last month, + that I act like an amateur myself. Make it short, though, for I'm going to + the opera.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain leaned over the table, his face tense with suppressed emotion. + He was a grizzled veteran of the New York police force: a man who sought + his quarry with the ferocity of a bull-dog, when the line of search was + definitely assured. Lacking imagination and the subtler senses of + criminology, Captain Cronin had built up a reputation for success and + honesty in every assignment by bravery, persistence, and as in this case, + the ability to cover his own deductive weakness by employing the brains of + others. + </p> + <p> + Montague Shirley was as antithetical from the veteran detective as a man + could well be. A noted athlete in his university, he possessed a society + rating in New York, at Newport and Tuxedo, and on the Continent which was + the envy of many a gilded youth born to the purple. + </p> + <p> + On leaving college, despite an ample patrimony, he had curiously enough + entered the lists as a newspaper man. From the sporting page he was + graduated to police news, then the city desk, at last closing his career + as the genius who invented the weekly Sunday thriller, in many colors of + illustration and vivacious Gallic style which interpreted into heart + throbs and goose-flesh the real life romances and tragedies of the + preceding six days! He had conquered the paper-and-ink world—then + deep within there stirred the call for participation in the game itself. + </p> + <p> + So, dropping quietly into the apparently indolent routine of club + existence, he had devoted his experience and genius to analytical + criminology—a line of endeavor known only to five men in the world. + </p> + <p> + He maintained no offices. He wore no glittering badges: a police card, a + fire badge, and a revolver license, renewed year after year, were the only + instruments of his trade ever in evidence. Shirley took assignments only + from the heads of certain agencies, by personal arrangement as informal as + this from Captain Cronin. His real clients never knew of his + participation, and his prey never understood that he had been the real + head-hunter! + </p> + <p> + His fees—Montague Shirley, as a master craftsman deemed his artistry + worthy of the hire. His every case meant a modest fortune to the detective + agency and Shirley's bills were never rendered, but always paid! + </p> + <p> + So, here, the hero of the gridiron and the class re-union, the gallant of + a hundred pre-matrimonial and non-maturing engagements, the veteran of a + thousand drolleries and merry jousts in clubdom—unspoiled by birth, + breeding and wealth, untrammeled by the juggernaut of pot-boiling and the + salary-grind, had drifted into the curious profession of confidential, + consulting criminal chaser. + </p> + <p> + Shirley unostentatiously signaled for an encore on the refreshments. + </p> + <p> + “You're nervous to-night, Captain. You've been doing things before you + consulted me—which is against our Rule Number One, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + The Captain gulped down his whiskey, and rubbed his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't help it, Monty. It got too busy for me, before I realized + anything unusual in the case. See what I got from a gangster before I + landed here.” + </p> + <p> + He turned his close-cropped head, as Montague Shirley leaned forward to + observe an abrasion at the base of his skull. It was dressed with a + coating of collodion. + </p> + <p> + “Brass knuckled—I see the mark of the rings. Tried for the + pneumogastric nerves, to quiet you.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever he tried for he nearly got. Kelly's nightstick got his pneumonia + gas jet, or whatever you call it. He's still quiet, in the station house—You + know old man Van Cleft, who owns sky-scrapers down town, don't you?—Well, + he's the center of this flying wedge of excitement. His family are fine + people, I understand. His daughter was to be married next week. Monty, + that wedding'll be postponed, and old Van Cleft won't worry over + dispossess papers for his tenants for the rest of the winter. See?” + </p> + <p> + “Killed?” + </p> + <p> + “Correct. He's done, and I had a hell of a time getting the body home, + before the coroner and the police reporters got on the trail.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley lowered his high-ball glass, with an earnest stare. + </p> + <p> + “What was the idea?” + </p> + <p> + “Robbery, of course. His son had me on the case—'phoned from the + garage where the chauffeur brought the body; after he saw the old man + unconscious. Just half an hour before he had left his office in the same + machine, after taking five thousand dollars in cash from his manager.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that's getting to brass tacks. When I gets that C.Q.D. from Van + Cleft, I finds the young fellow inside the ring of rubbernecks, blubbering + over the old man, where he lies on the floor of the taxi—looking + soused.” + </p> + <p> + “He was a notorious old sport about town, Captain.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure—and I thinks, it sorter serves him right. But, that's his + funeral, not mine. Van Cleft, junior, says to me: 'There's the girl that + was with him.'” + </p> + <p> + “Where was the girl?” + </p> + <p> + “She was sitting on a stool, near the car, a little blonde chorus chicken, + shaking and twitching, while the chauffeur and the garage boss held her + up. I says, 'What's this?' and Van Cleft tells me all he knows, which + ain't nothing. Them guys in that garage was wise, for it meant a cold five + hundred apiece before I left to keep their lids closed. Van Cleft begs me + to hustle the old man home, so one of my men takes her down to my office, + still a sniffling, and acting like she had the D.T.'s. The young fellow + shook like a leaf, but we takes him over to Central Park East, to the + family mansion,—carrying him up the steps like he was drunk. We gets + him into his own bed, and keeps the sister from touching his clammy hands, + while she orders the family doctor. When he gets there on the jump, I + gives him the wink and leads him to one side. 'Doc,' I says, 'you know how + to write out a death certificate, to hush this up from your end. I've done + the rest.'” + </p> + <p> + Captain Cronin leaned forward, a queer excitement agitating him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what that doctor says to me, Monty?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley shook his head. + </p> + <p> + He says; “My God, it's the third!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley's white hand gripped the edge of the table. “The Van Cleft's + doctor is one of the greatest surgeons in the country, Professor MacDonald + of the Medical College. He said that?” + </p> + <p> + “He did. I answers, 'Whadd'y mean the third?' Then he looks me straight in + the eye, and sings back, 'None of your business.'” Cronin shook his head. + “I never seen a man with a squarer look, and yet he has me guessing. I + goes back to the garage, over past Eighth Avenue, you know, where two + johns come up along side o' me. One rubs me with his elbow and the other + applies that brass knuckle,—then they gets pinched. I got dressed up + in a drug store, got the chauffeur's license number, and goes on down to + my office to see this girl. She's hysterical about his family using all + their money to put her in jail. I looks at her, and says, 'You won't need + their money to get to jail. That old man's dead!' Her eyes was as big as + saucers. 'I thought old Daddy Van Cleft was drunk.' I tells her, 'He was + dead in that taxi, with a chorus girl, and a roll of bills gone. What you + got to say?' She staggers forward and clutches my coat, and what do you + think SHE says to me?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley made the inquiry only with his eyes, puffing his cigarette slowly. + </p> + <p> + “She looks sorter green, and repeats after me: 'Dead, with a chorus girl, + and a roll of bills gone,'—just like a parrot. Then she springs this + on me: 'My God, it's the third!'” + </p> + <p> + Shirley dropped his cigarette, leaning forward, all nonchalance gone. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she now? Quick, let's go to her.” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet. Just then a door-boy walked through the grill-room + toward him. “A telephone call for Captain Cronin, sir; the party said + hurry or he would miss something good.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley snapped out, “When has the rule about telephone calls in this club + been changed? You boys are never to tell any one that a member or guest + are here until the name is announced.” + </p> + <p> + He turned toward the puzzled Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ask any of your operatives to call you here? You know what a risk + you are taking, to connect me with this case like that, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I never even breathed it to myself. I told no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Follow me up to the telephone room.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley hurried through the grill, to the switchboard, near which stood + the booths for private calls. He called to one of the operators. “Here, + let me at that switchboard.” He pushed the boy aside, and sat down in the + vacated chair. + </p> + <p> + “Which trunk is it on? Oh, I see, the second. There Captain, take the + fourth booth against the wall.” + </p> + <p> + Cronin stepped in. Shirley connected up and listened with the transmitter + of the operator at his ear, holding the line open. + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, here's Captain Cronin!” + </p> + <p> + A pleasant voice came over the wire. It was musical and sincere. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Captain Cronin, is that you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + The voice continued, with a jolly laugh, ringing and infectious in its + merriment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Captain, the joke's on you. Ha, ha, ha! It's a bully one! Ho, ho! + Ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “What joke?” + </p> + <p> + “You're working on the Van Cleft case. Oh, sure, you are, don't kid me + back. Well, Captain, you've missed two other perfectly good grafts. This + is the third one!” + </p> + <p> + There was a click and the speaker, with another merry gurgle, rang off. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, manager's desk,” cried Shirley, jiggling the metal key. “What call + was that? Where did it come from?” + </p> + <p> + After a little wait, a languid voice answered: “Brooklyn, Main 6969, Party + C.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me the number again—I want to speak on the wire.” + </p> + <p> + After another delay, the voice replied “The line has been discontinued.” + </p> + <p> + “I just had it! What is the name of the subscriber. Hurry, this is a + matter of life and death.” + </p> + <p> + “It's against the rules to give any further information. But our record + shows that the house burned down about two weeks ago. No one else has been + given the number. There's no instrument there!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE FLEETING PROMPTER + </h2> + <p> + Monty's puzzled smile was in no wise reciprocated by the Captain, whose + red face evidenced a growing resentment. + </p> + <p> + He began a tirade, but a wink from the club man warned him. Shirley + replaced the receiver, and the regular attendant resumed his place at the + switchboard. The lad was curious at the unusual ability of the wealthy Mr. + Shirley to handle the bewildering maze of telephone attachments. Monty + explained, as he turned to go upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Son, that was one of my smart friends trying to play a practical joke on + my guest. I fooled him. Don't let it happen again, until you send in the + party's name first.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” meekly promised the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Captain Cronin, as the old paperback novels used to say at the end + of the first instalment, 'The Plot thickens!' At first I thought this case + of stupid badger game—” + </p> + <p> + “You aren't going to back out, Monty? Here's a whole gang of crooks which + would give you some sport rounding up, and as for money—” + </p> + <p> + “Money is easy, from both sides of a criminal matter. What interests me is + that ghostly telephone call from a house that burned down, and the + caller's knowledge of Number Three. I'm in this case, have no fear of + that.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley led his guest to the coat room. + </p> + <p> + “I'll get a taxicab, Monty. We'd better see that girl first and then have + a look at the body.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain turned to the door, as the attendant helped Monty with his + overcoat. The waiter from the grill-room approached. “Excuse me, sir, but + the gentleman dropped his handkerchief in his chair opposite you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Gordon,” he said, as he faced the servant for an instant. When + he turned again, toward the front hall, the Captain had passed out of view + through the front door. + </p> + <p> + Shirley received a surprise when he reached the pavement on Forty-fourth + Street, for Captain Cronin was not in sight. Two club men descended the + steps of the neighboring house. Others strolled along toward the Avenue, + but not a sign of a vehicle of any description could be seen, nor was + there anything suspicious in view. Cronin had disappeared as effectually + as though he had taken a passing Zeppelin! + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad this affair will not bore me,” murmured the criminologist, as he + evolved and promptly discarded a dozen vain theories to explain the + disappearance of his companion. + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes were wasted along the block, as he waited for some sight or + sign. Then he decided to go on up to Van Cleft's residence. But, realizing + the probability of “shadow” work upon all who came from the door of the + club, after the curious message on the wire, Shirley did not propose to + expose his hand. Walking leisurely to the Avenue, he hailed a passing + hansom. He directed the driver to carry him to an address on Central Park + West. His shrewdness was not wasted, for as he stepped into the vehicle, + he espied a slinking figure crossing the street diagonally before him, to + disappear into the shadow of an adjacent doorway. This was the house of + Reginald Van Der Voor, as Shirley knew. It was closed because its master, + a social acquaintance of the club man's, was at this time touring the + Orient in his steam yacht. No man should have entered that doorway. So, as + the horse started under the flick of the long whip, Shirley peered + unobserved through the glass window at his side. + </p> + <p> + A big machine swung up behind the hansom, at some unseen hail, and the + figure came from the doorway, leaping into the car, as it followed Shirley + up the Avenue, a block or so behind. + </p> + <p> + “It is not always so easy to follow, when the leader knows his chase,” + thought Shirley. “I'm glad I'm only a simple club man.” + </p> + <p> + The automobile was unmistakably trailing him, as the hansom crossed the + Plaza, then sped through the Park drive, to the address he had given his + driver. + </p> + <p> + As Shirley had remembered, this was a large apartment house, in which one + of his bachelor friends lived. He knew the lay of the building well: next + door, with an entrance facing on the side street was another just like it, + and of equal height. + </p> + <p> + “Wait for me, here,” said Shirley. “I'll pay you now, but want to go to an + address down town in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + He gave the driver a bill, then entered and told the elevator man to take + him to the ninth floor. + </p> + <p> + “There's nobody in, boss,” began the boy. But Shirley shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “My friend is expecting me for a little card game, that's why you think he + is out. Just take me up.” + </p> + <p> + He handed the negro a quarter, which was complete in its logic. + </p> + <p> + As he reached the floor, he waved to the elevator operator. “Go on down, + and don't let any one else come up, for Mr. Greenough doesn't want + company.” + </p> + <p> + As the car slid down, Shirley fumbled along the familiar hall to the iron + stairs which led to the roof of the building. Up these he hurried, thence + out upon the roof. It was a matter of only four minutes before he had + crossed to the next apartment building, opened the door of the roof-entry, + found the stairs to the ninth floor, and taken this elevator to the + street. + </p> + <p> + He walked out of the building, and turned toward Central Park West, to + slyly observe the entrance of the building where waited the faithful + hansom Jehu. A young man was in conversation with the driver, and the big + automobile could be seen on the other side of the street awaiting further + developments. + </p> + <p> + “He has a long vigil there,” laughed Shirley. “Now, for the real address. + I think I lost the hounds for this time.” + </p> + <p> + Another vehicle took him through the Park to the darkened mansion of the + Van Clefts'. Here, Shirley's card brought a quick response from the + surprised son of the dead millionaire. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—I'm glad to see you, Mr. Shirley—Who sent you?” + he began. + </p> + <p> + Shirley registered complete surprise. “Sent me, my dear Van Cleft? Who + should send me? For what? It just happened that I was walking up the + Avenue, and to-morrow night I plan to give a little farewell supper to Hal + Bingley, class of '03, at the club You knew him in College? I thought you + might like to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Step in the library,” requested Van Cleft, weakly. “Sit down, Mr. Shirley—I'm + upset to-night.” + </p> + <p> + He mopped his brow with a damp handkerchief, and Shirley's big heart went + out to the young chap, as he saw the haggard lines of horror and grief on + his usually pleasant face. + </p> + <p> + “What's the trouble, old man? Anything I can do?” + </p> + <p> + “My father just died this evening, and I'm in awful trouble—I + thought it was the Coroner, or the police—” he bit his tongue as the + last words escaped him. Shirley put his hand on Van Cleft's shoulder, with + an inspiring firmness. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how I can help. You've had a big shock. Confide in me, and I + pledge you my word, I'll keep it safer than any one you could go to.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft groped as a drowning man, at this opportunity. He caught + Shirley's hand and wrung it tensely. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down. The doctor is still upstairs with mother and sister. When the + Coroner comes, I would like to have you be here as a witness. It's an + ordeal—I'll tell you everything.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley listened attentively, without betraying his own knowledge. + Soothing in manner, he questioned the son about any possible enemy of the + murdered man. + </p> + <p> + “There's not one I know. Dad is popular—he's been too gay, lately, + but just foolish like a lot of rich men. He wouldn't harm any one. He + inherited his money, you know. Didn't have to crush the working people. + Like me, he's been endeavoring to spend it ever since he was born, but it + comes in too fast from our estates.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up apprehensively, at the sympathetic face of his companion. + </p> + <p> + “It's very unwise to tell this. I suppose it's a State's prison offence to + deceive about murder. But you understand our position: we can't afford to + let it become gossip. I'll pay this girl anything to go to Europe or the + Antipodes!” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't do that,” suggested Shirley, thoughtfully. “Let her stay. You + would like to bring the culprit to justice, if it can be done without + dragging your name into it. If he has planned this, he has executed other + schemes. She certainly would not remain the machine if she were the guilty + one. Why not employ a good detective?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, but hesitated to tell you. I secured Captain Cronin, of the + Holland Agency. He's managed everything so far—I was too rattled + myself. But, I wonder why he isn't here now? He was to return as soon as + he visited the garage.” + </p> + <p> + As Van Cleft spoke, the butler approached with hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, sir. But you are wanted on the telephone, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Hoskins. Connect it with the library instrument.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft lifted the receiver nervously, and answered in an unsteady + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—This is Van Cleft's residence.” + </p> + <p> + Silence for a bit, then the wire was busy. + </p> + <p> + “What's that? Captain Cronin? What about him? Let me speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley was alert as a cat. Van Cleft was too dazed to understand his + sudden move, as the criminologist caught up the receiver, and placed his + palm for an instant over the mouthpiece. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him to say it again—that you didn't understand.” Shirley + removed his hand, and obeyed. Shirley held the receiver to his ear, as the + young man spoke. Then he heard these curious words: “You poor simp, you'd + better get that family doctor of yours to give you some ear medicine, and + stop wasting time with the death certificate. I told you that Cronin was + over in Bellevue Hospital with a fractured skull. Unless you drop this + investigating, you'll get one, too. Ta, ta! Old top!” + </p> + <p> + The receiver was hung up quickly at the other end of the line. + </p> + <p> + Shirley gave a quick call for “Information,” and after several minutes + learned that the call came from a drug store pay-station in Jersey City! + </p> + <p> + The melodious tones were unmistakably those of the speaker who had used + the wire from faraway Brooklyn where the house had been burned down! It + was a human impossibility for any one to have covered the distance between + the two points in this brief time, except in an aeroplane! + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft wondered dumbly at his companion's excitement. Shirley caught up + the telephone again. + </p> + <p> + “Some one says that Cronin is at Bellevue Hospital, injured. I'll find + out.” + </p> + <p> + It was true. Captain Cronin was lying at point of death, the ward nurse + said, in answer to his eager query. At first the ambulance surgeon had + supposed him to be drunk, for a patrolman had pulled him out of a dark + doorway, unconscious. + </p> + <p> + “Where was the doorway? This is his son speaking, so tell me all.” + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute. Oh! Here is the report slip. He was taken from the corner + of Avenue A and East Eleventh Street. You'd better come down right away, + for he is apt to die tonight. He's only been here ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Has any one else telephoned to find out about him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. We didn't even know his name until just as you called up, when we + found his papers and some warrants in a pocketbook. How did you know?” + </p> + <p> + But Shirley disconnected curtly, this time. He bowed his head in thought, + and then, with his usual nervous custom, fumbled for a cigarette. Here was + the Captain, whom he had left on Forty-fourth Street, near Fifth Avenue, a + short time before, discovered fully three miles away. + </p> + <p> + And the news telephoned from Jersey City, by the fleeting magic voice on + the wire. Even his iron composure was stirred by this weird complication. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder!” he murmured. He had ample reason to wonder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE INNOCENT BYSTANDER + </h2> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Shirley, your coming here was a Godsend! I don't know what to + do now. The newspapers will get this surely. I depended on Cronin: he must + have been drinking.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley shook his head, as he explained, “I know Cronin's reputation, for + I was a police reporter. He is a sterling man. There's foul work here + which extends beyond your father's case. But we are wasting time. Why + don't you introduce me to your physician? Just tell him about Cronin, and + that you have confided in me completely.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft went upstairs without a word. Unused to any worry, always able + to pay others for the execution of necessary details, this young man was a + victim of the system which had engulfed his unfortunate sire in the + maelstrom of reckless pleasure. + </p> + <p> + By his ingenuous adroitness, it may be seen, Shirley was inveigling + himself into the heart of the affair, in his favorite disguise as that of + the “innocent bystander.” His innate dramatic ability assisted him in + maintaining his friendly and almost impersonal role, with a success which + had in the past kept the secret of his system from even the evildoers + themselves. + </p> + <p> + “A little investigation of the telephone exchanges during the next day or + two will not be wasted time,” he mused. “I'll get Sam Grindle, their + assistant advertising manager to show me the way the wheels go 'round. No + man can ride a Magic Carpet of Bagdad over the skyscrapers in these days + of shattered folklore.” + </p> + <p> + Howard Van Cleft returned with the famous surgeon, Professor MacDonald. He + was elderly, with the broad high forehead, dignity of poise, and sharpness + of glance which bespeaks the successful scientist. His face, to-night, was + chalky and the firm, full mouth twitched with nervousness. He greeted + Shirley abstractedly. The criminologist's manner was that of friendly + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “You are here, sir, as a friend of the family?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Howard has told me of the terrible mystery of this case. As an + ex-newspaper man I imagine that my influence and friendships may keep the + unpleasant details from the press.” + </p> + <p> + “That is good,” sighed the doctor, with relief. “How soon will you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, using this telephone. No, for certain reasons, I had better use an + outside instrument. I will call up men I know on each paper, as though + this were a 'scoop,' so that knowing me, they will be confident that I + tell them the truth as a favor. Such deceit is excusable under the + circumstances. It may eventually bring the murderer to justice.” + </p> + <p> + Professor MacDonald winced at the word. He turned toward Van Cleft, on + sudden thought, remarking: “Howard your mother and sister may need the + comfort of your presence. I will chat with your friend until the Coroner + comes.” + </p> + <p> + The physician sank into a library chair. The criminologist quietly awaited + his cue. He lit a cigarette and the minutes drifted past with no word + between them. The doctor's gaze lowered to the vellum-bound books on the + carven table, then to the gorgeous pattern of the Kermansha at his feet. + Once more he studied the face of his companion, with the keen, + soul-gripping scrutiny of the skilled physician. As last he arrived at a + definite conclusion. He cleared his throat, and fumbled in his waistcoat + pocket for a cigar. A swiftly struck match in Monty's hand was held up so + promptly to the end of the cigar, that the doctor's lips had not closed + about it. This deftness, simple in itself, did not escape the observation + of the scientist. He smiled for the first time during their interview. + </p> + <p> + “Your reflex nerves are very wide awake for a quiet man. I believe I can + depend upon those nerves, and your quietude. May I ask what occupation you + follow, if any? Most of Howard's friends follow butterflies.” + </p> + <p> + “I am one of them, then. Some opera, more theatricals, much art gallery + touring. A little regular reading in my rooms, and there you are! My great + grandfather was too poor a trader to succeed in pelts, so he invested a + little money in rocky pastures around upper Manhattan: this has kept the + clerks of the family bankers busy ever since. I am an optimistic vagabond, + enjoying life in the observation of the rather ludicrous busyness of other + folk. In short, Doctor, I am a corpulent Hamlet, essentially modern in my + cultivation of a joy in life, debating the eternal question with myself, + but lazily leaving it to others to solve. Therein I am true to my type.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my bluntness,” observed MacDonald, watching him through partially + closed eyes. “You are not telling the truth. You are a busy man, with + definite work, but that is no affair of mine. I recognize in you a + different calibre from that of these rich young idlers in Howard's class. + I am going to take you into my confidence, for you understand the need for + secrecy, and will surely help in every way—noblesse oblige. This man + Cronin, the detective, was rather crude.” + </p> + <p> + “He is honest and dependable,” replied Shirley, loyally. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I wonder why professional detectives are so primitive. They wear + their calling cards and their business shingles on their figures and + faces. Surely the crooks must know them all personally. I read detective + stories, in rest moments, and every one of the sleuths lives in some + well-known apartment, or on a prominent street. Some day we may read of + one who is truly in secret service, but not until after his death notice. + But there, I am talking to quiet my own nerves a bit,—now we will + get to cases.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor dropped his cigar into the bronze tray on the table, leaning + forward with intense earnestness, as he continued. + </p> + <p> + “This, Mr. Shirley, is the third murder of the sort within a week. + Wellington Serral, the wealthy broker, came to a sudden death in a private + dining room last Monday, in the company of a young show girl. He was a + patient of mine, and I signed the death certificate as heart failure, to + save the honorable family name for his two orphaned daughters. + </p> + <p> + “Herbert de Cleyster, the railroad magnate, died similarly in a taxicab on + Thursday. He was also one of my patients. There, too, was concerned + another of these wretched chorus girls. To-night the fatal number of the + triad was consummated in this cycle of crime. To maintain my loyalty to my + patients I have risked my professional reputation. Have I done wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “No! The criminal shall be brought to justice,” replied Shirley in a voice + vibrant with a profound determination which was not lost upon his + companion. + </p> + <p> + “Are you powerful enough to bring this about, without disgracing me or + betraying this sordid tragedy to the morbid scandal-rakers of the papers?” + </p> + <p> + “I will devote every waking hour to it. But, like you, my efforts must + remain entirely secret. I vow to find this man before I sleep again!” + </p> + <p> + “You are determined—yet it cannot be one single man. It must be an + organized gang, for all the crimes have been so strangely similar, + occurring to three men who are friends, and entrez nous, notorious for + their peccadilloes. The girls must be in the vicious circle, and ably + assisted. But there is one thing I forgot to tell you, which you forgot to + ask.” + </p> + <p> + “And this is?” + </p> + <p> + “How they died. It was by some curious method of sudden arterial stoppage. + Old as they were, some fiendish trick was employed so skilfully that the + result was actual heart failure. There was no trace of drugs in lungs or + blood. On each man's breast, beneath the sternum bone I found a dull, + barely discernible bruise mark, which I later removed by a simple massage + of the spot!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley closed his eyes, and passed his hand over his own chest—along + the armpits—behind his ears—he seemed to be mentally + enumerating some list of nerve centers. The physician observed him + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “I have it, doctor! The sen-si-yao!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “The most powerful and secret of all the death-strokes of the Japanese art + of jiu-jitsu fighting. I paid two thousand dollars to learn the course + from a visiting instructor when I was in college. It was worth it for this + one occasion.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley arose to his feet, and approached the other, touching his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Stand up, if you please. Let me ask if this was the location of the + mark?” + </p> + <p> + The physician, interested in this new professional phase, readily obeyed. + One quick movement of Shirley's muscular hand, the thumb oddly twisted and + stiffened, and a sudden jab in the doctor's abdomen made that gentleman + gasp with pain. Shirley's expression was triumphant, but the professor + regarded him with an expression of terror. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Ugh!—What-did-you-do-to me?” he murmured thickly, when he was + at last able to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Merely demonstrated the beginning of the death punch which I named. That + pressure if continued for half a minute would have been fatal.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would teach me that,” was the physician's natural request, as + he nodded with a wry face. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, my dear sir, for I learned it, according to the Oriental + custom under the most sacred obligations of secrecy. One must advance + through the whole course, by initiatory degrees, before learning the final + mysteries of the samurais. Now, we have a working hypothesis. The girls + could never have accomplished this. One man and one alone must have killed + the three, although doubtless with confederates. Yamashino assured me that + there were only six men in this country who knew it beside myself. We must + find an Orientalist!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley paced the floor, but his meditations were interrupted by the + arrival of the Coroner and his physician. Van Cleft hurried into the room + with them, to present the doctor, who exchanged a formal greeting with the + men he had met twice before that week. + </p> + <p> + “A sad affair, Professor,” observed the Coroner nervously, drinking in + with profound respect the magnificent surroundings which symbolized the + great wealth of which he secretly hoped to gain a tithing. “I trust that, + as usual, in such cases, I may suggest an undertaker?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—talk about that at once, sir?” asked Howard with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + The physician, familiar with the subtleties of coroners, gently placed an + arm about the young man's shoulder. He nodded, understandingly, to the + Coroner, as he turned toward Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “I must be going now,” the latter interposed. “Just a word with you, + Howard, that I may send a message to your mother and sister.” + </p> + <p> + The physician led away the two officials as Shirley continued: “I must go + to see Cronin—deserted there like a run-over mongrel on the street. + Can I leave this house by the rear, so that none shall know of my + assistance in the case, or follow me to the hospital? If you can secure an + old hat and coat, I will leave my own, with my stick, to get them some + other time.” + </p> + <p> + “I will get some from the butler, if you wait just a moment. You can leave + by the rear yard, if you don't mind climbing a high board fence.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft hurried downstairs, in a few minutes, bearing a weather-beaten + overcoat and an English cap, which Shirley drew down over his ears. With + the coat on, he looked very unlike the well-groomed club man who had + entered. Unseen by Van Cleft he shifted an automatic revolver into the + coat pocket from the discarded garment. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Shirley, come this way. Follow the rear area-way, across to the + next yard, where after another climb you find a vacant lot where the + Schuylers are preparing to erect their new city house. Will you attend to + everything?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything. I'll start sooner than you expect.” + </p> + <p> + Truly he did! For no sooner had he descended the second fence into the + empty lot than a stinging blow sent him at full length on the rocky + ground, where the excavations were already being started. Two men pounced + upon him in a twinkling—only his great strength, acquired through + the football years, saved him from immediate defeat. His head throbbed, + and he was dizzy as he caught the wrist of the nearest assailant with a + quick twist which resulted in a sudden, sickening crunch. The man groaned + in agony, but his companion kicked with heavy-shod feet at the prostrate + man. Shirley's left hand duplicated the vice-like grip upon the ankle of + the standing assailant, and his deftness caused another tendon strain! + Both men toppled to the ground, now, and before they realized it Shirley + had reversed the advantage. His automatic emphasized his superiority of + tactics. He understood their silence, broken only by muted groans: they + feared the police, even as did he, although for different reasons. He + “frisked” the man nearest him upon the ground, and captured deftly the + rascal's weapon: then he sprang up covering the twain. + </p> + <p> + “Get up! Youse guys is poachin' in de wrong district—dis belongs to + de Muggins gang. I'll fix youse guys fer buttin' in. Up, dere!” His hands + went into his coat pockets, but the men knew that they were still pointing + at them, the gunman's “cover” as it is called. They staggered sullenly to + their feet. He beckoned with his head, toward the front of the lot. They + followed the silent instructions, one limping while his mate wrung the + injured wrist in agony. + </p> + <p> + Directly before the lot stood a throbbing, empty automobile. Shirley + decided to take another car—he could not guard them and drive at the + same time. + </p> + <p> + “Down to Fift' Avnoo,” he ordered. “I got two guns—not a woid from + youse!” His erstwhile amiable physiognomy, now gnarled into an + unrecognizable mask of low villainy bespoke his desperate earnestness. The + men obeyed. This was apparently a gangster, of gangsters—their fear + of the dire vengeance of a rival organization of cut-throats instilled an + obedience more humble than any other threats. + </p> + <p> + Toward the Park side they advance, one leaning heavily upon the other. + Shirley, his broad shoulders hunched up; with the collar drawn high about + his neck, the murderous looking cap down over his eyes, followed them + doggedly. + </p> + <p> + A big limousine was speeding down the Avenue from some homing theater + party. Shirley hailed it with an authoritive yell which caused the + chauffeur to put on a quick brake. + </p> + <p> + “Git out dere,—no gun play. Up inter dat car!” he added, as they + approached the machine. + </p> + <p> + “Say, what you drivin' at?” cried the driver, queruously. “Is this a + hold-up?” It was a puzzling moment, but the criminologist's calm bravado + saved the situation: as luck would have it no policemen were in sight, to + spoil the maneuver. + </p> + <p> + “No,” and he assumed a more natural voice and dialect. “I'm a detective. + These men were just house-breaking, and I got them. There's twenty-five + dollars in it for you, if you take us down to the Holland Detective + Agency, in ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “He's kiddin' ye, feller,” snapped out one man. + </p> + <p> + “Don't fall fen him, yen boob!” sung out the other. + </p> + <p> + But Shirley's automatic now appeared outside the coat pocket. The + chauffeur realized that here was serious gaming. With his left hand + Shirley jerked out the ever ready police card and fire badge, which seemed + official enough to satisfy the driver. + </p> + <p> + “Quick now, or I'll run you in, too, for refusing to obey an officer. You + men climb into that back seat. Driver, beat it now to Thirty-nine West + Forty Street, if you need that twenty-five dollars. I'll sit with them. I + don't want any interference so I can come back and nab the rest of their + gang.” + </p> + <p> + His authoritative manner convinced this new ally, and he climbed into the + car, facing his prisoners, with the two weapons held down below the level + of the windows. Pedestrians and other motorists little recked what strange + cargo was borne as the car raced down the broad thoroughfare. + </p> + <p> + In nine minutes they drew up before the Holland Agency, a darkened, brown + front house of ancient architecture. The chauffeur sprang out to swing + back the door. + </p> + <p> + “Go up the steps, and tell the doorman that Captain Cronin wants two men + to bring down their guns and handcuffs and get two prisoners. Quick!” + </p> + <p> + The street was not empty, even at this hour. Yet the passersby did not + realize the grim drama enacted inside the waiting machine. Hours seemed to + pass before Cronin's men returned with the driver, as much surprised by + the three strange faces within the machine, as he had been. + </p> + <p> + “You take these men upstairs and keep them locked up,” bluntly commanded + the criminologist. “They're nabbed on the new case of the Captain's which + started to-night, I'm going over to Bellevue to see him.” His voice was + still disguised, his features twisted even yet. + </p> + <p> + The men gave him a curious glance, and then obeyed. As they disappeared + behind the heavy wooden door, Shirley stepped into a dark hallway, close + by. He lit a wax match to give him light for the choosing of the right + amount, from the roll of bills which he drew forth. The chauffeur whistled + with surprise at the size of the denominations. The twenty-five were + handed over. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks very much, my friend,” and the face unsnarled itself, into the + amiable lines of the normal. The voice was agreeable and smooth, which + surprised the man the more. “You took me out of a ticklish situation + tonight. I don't want any mere policemen to spoil my little game. Please + oil up your forgettery with these, and then—forget!” + </p> + <p> + “Say, gov'nor,” retorted the driver, as he put the money into the band of + his leather cap. “I ain't seen so much real change since my boss got stung + on the war. I ain't so certain but what you was the gink robbin' that + house, at that. But that's them guys funeral if you beat 'em to it. + Good-night—much obliged. But I got to slip it to you, gov'nor—you + ain't none of them Central Office flat-feet, sure 'nuff! If you are a + detective, you're some fly cop!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. A SCIENTIFIC NOVELTY + </h2> + <p> + In a private ward room at Bellevue Hospital, Captain Cronin was just + returning to memory of himself and things that had been. Shirley arrived + at his cot-side as he was being propped up more comfortably. The older + man's face broke into game smiles, as the criminologist took the chair + provided by the pretty nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, I'll have a little chat with my friend, if you don't think it + will do him any harm.” + </p> + <p> + “He is better now, sir. We feared he was fatally injured when they brought + him in. I'll be outside in the corridor if you need anything.” + </p> + <p> + She left not without an admiring look at the big chap, wondering why he + wore such disreputable superstructure with patent leather pumps and silk + hose showing below the ragged overcoat. Strange sights come to hospitals, + curiosity frequently leading to unprofitable knowledge: so she was + silently discreet. Shirley's garb was not unobserved by the detective + chief. Monty laughed reminiscently at the questioning glance. + </p> + <p> + “These are my working clothes—a fine combination. I nabbed two of + the gang. But what became of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Outside that club door, I wanted to save time for us both. I took the + first taxi in sight. Before I could even call out to you, the door slammed + on me, the shades flopped down, the car started up—the next thing I + knew this here nurse was sticking a spoon in my mouth, a-saying: 'Take + this—it's fine for what ails you!'” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if it could have been the same machine they left at Van Cleft's? + I will tell you how things progressed.” So he did, leaving out only the + confidence of Professor MacDonald. The Captain became feverishly excited, + until Shirley abjured him to beware of a relapse. “You must be calm, for + the next twenty-four hours: there will be much for you to do, even then. + Meanwhile, let me call up your agency; then you give them instructions + over this table telephone to let Howard Van Cleft interview the little + chorus girl, with his friend. I'll be the friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I'm going to be snowed under in this case, Monty. The finest + job I've had these dozen years. But you're square, and will do all you + can.” + </p> + <p> + “Old friend, I'll do what I can to make Van Cleft and the newspapers sure + that you are the most wonderful sleuth inside or outside the public + library. Here's your office—speak up. Let me lift you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello Pat!” called Cronin, as his superintendent came to the 'phone. “I + am detained at Bellevue, so that I can't be there when Van Cleft comes + down. Let him Third Degree that little Jane from the garage. Keep them two + men apart, too—oh, that's all right, the fellow is a friend of mine + on the 'Frisco police force. He won't butt in.” Silence for a moment, + then: “Oh, shucks, let 'em yowl! They've got more than kidnapping to worry + about for the next twenty-five years.” + </p> + <p> + He hung up the receiver, sinking back on his pillows wan from the strain. + Monty handed him a glass of water, and adjusted the bandages with a hand + as tender as a woman's. He lifted the instrument again. + </p> + <p> + “You are sterling, twenty-two carat and a yard wide, Captain! Now, get to + sleep while I find out who the ring-master is. I've sworn to keep awake + until I do. I think it well to telephone Van Cleft, and arrange for a + better get-a-way for us both.” + </p> + <p> + He was soon talking with the son of the murdered man. “Meet me down at the + Vanderbilt Hotel—ask for Mr. Hepburn's room, and send up the name of + Williams. See you in an hour. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Hanging up the receiver, he turned toward the door, after a friendly pat + on Cronin's shoulder. The bell rang, and the Captain reached for it, to + sink back exhausted upon the bed. Shirley answered, to be greeted by a + pleasant feminine voice. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Captain Cronin?” + </p> + <p> + Instantly the criminologist replied affirmatively, suiting his tones as + best he could to the gruff voice of the detective chief, with a wink at + that worthy. + </p> + <p> + “I just called up, Captain, to ask about you—Oh, you don't recognize + my voice. I'm Miss Wilberforce, private secretary to Mr. Van Cleft. Has + any one been to see you yet? I understand that you are very busy, and have + already missed two other good cases, this one being the THIRD! Well, don't + hurry, Captain. You may get the rest to come—if you live long + enough. Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley looked at Cronin, startled. Another mention of the mystic number. + He called for information about the origin of the call. + </p> + <p> + “Lordee, son! Are they at it again?” asked Cronin in disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—overdoing it. One thing is clear, that whoever is behind this + telephone trickery is very clever, and very conceited over that + cleverness. It may be a costly vanity. Yes, information?” + </p> + <p> + “The call was from Rector 2190-D. The American Sunday School Organization, + sir—It doesn't answer now; the office must be closed.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley put the instrument down, with a smile on his pursed lips. He waved + a good natured farewell to his friend, as he drew the cap down over his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Look a little happier, Captain. I'll send down some fruit and a special + vintage from our club which has bottled up in it the sunlight of a dozen + years in Southern France. I hope they keep the telephone wires busy—they + may tangle themselves up in their own spider-web!” + </p> + <p> + Leaving the hospital, he hurried to the hotel. One of his secret + idiosyncracies was a custom of “living around” at a number of hotels, + under aliases. Maintaining pleasant suites in each, he kept full supplies + of linen and garments, while effectively blotting out his own identity for + “doubling” work. + </p> + <p> + He was known as “Mr. Hepburn” here, and entering the side door he was + subjected to the curious gaze of only one servant, the operator of the + small elevator. Once in the shelter of his quarters he rummaged through + some scrap-books for data—he found it in a Sunday feature story + published a month before in a semi-theatrical paper. It described with + rollicking sarcasm, a gay “millionaire” party which had been given in + Rector's private dining rooms. Among the ridiculed hosts were Van Cleft, + Wellington Serral and Herbert De Cleyster! Here, in some elusive manner, + ran the skein of truth which if followed would lead to the solution of + mystery. He must carve out of this mass of pregnant clues the essentials + upon which to act, as the sculptor chisels the marble of a huge block to + expose the figure of his inspiration, encased there all the time! + </p> + <p> + “To find out the source of their golden-haired nymphs for this + merry-merry, that is the question! Some stage doorkeeper might be + persuaded to unburden what soul he has left!” + </p> + <p> + He jotted in his memorandum book the names of the other eight wealthy men + who were pilloried by the journalist. The younger men, Shirley felt sure, + were of that peculiarly Manhattanse type of hanger-on—well-groomed, + happy-go-hellward youths who danced, laughed and drank well,—so + essential to the philanderings of these rich old Harlequins and their + gilded Columbines. As he scribbled, the telephone of the room tinkled its + summons. + </p> + <p> + He started toward it: then his invaluable intuition prompted him to walk + into the adjoining room, where another instrument stood on a small table, + handy to the bed. Only two people could possibly know he was there. Van + Cleft could not have arrived, as yet. The other bell jingled impatiently, + but Shirley finally heard the voice of the switch-board girl. + </p> + <p> + “I'm trying to get you on the other wire, sir. There's a call.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't connect me,” he hurriedly ordered, “except to open the switch, so I + may listen. If I hang up without a word, tell the party I will be back in + twenty minutes.” + </p> + <p> + With a hotel telephone girl tact is more important than even the knowledge + of wire-knitting. It was the woman's voice which he had heard at the + hospital. Captain Cronin was anxious to speak to Mr. Williams, who was + calling on Mr. Hepburn! With the biggest jolt of this day of surprises + Shirley disconnected and whistled. Again he laughed—with that grim + chuckle which was so characteristic of his supreme battling mood! They had + found the trail even quicker than he had expected. Fortunate it was that + he had not mentioned his own name in telephoning from the hospital to + Howard. Not a wire was safe from these mysterious eaves-droppers now. He + hurried into a business suit, and left the hotel, to walk over + Thirty-fourth Street to the studio of his friend, Hammond Bell. Here he + was admitted, to find the portrait-painter finishing a solitary + chafing-dish supper. + </p> + <p> + “Delighted, Monty! Join me in the encore on this creamed chicken and + mushrooms!” + </p> + <p> + “Too rich for my primitive blood, Hammond. I'm in a hurry to get a favor.” + </p> + <p> + “I've received enough at your hands—say the word.” + </p> + <p> + “Simply this: I want to experiment with sound waves. I remembered that + once in a while some of these wild Bohemian friends of yours warbled + post-impressionist love-songs into your phonograph. It stood the strain, + and so must be a good one. It is too late now to get one in a shop; will + you lend me the whole outfit, with the recording attachment as well, for + to-night and to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “The easiest thing you know. Let's slide it into this grip—you can + carry the horn.” + </p> + <p> + Three minutes later Shirley made his exit, and soon was shaking hands with + Van Cleft in his own room at the hotel. He sketched his idea hurriedly, as + he adjusted the instrument on the dressing-table near the telephone. + </p> + <p> + “When the call comes, be sure to say: 'Get closer, I can't hear you.' + That's the method, and it's so simple it is almost silly.” They were + barely ready when the bell warned them. At Van Cleft's reply, when the + call for “Mr. Williams” Shirley pushed the horn close to the telephone + receiver. Van Cleft twisted it, so as to give the best advantage, and + demanded that the speaker come closer to the 'phone. + </p> + <p> + “Can you hear me now?” asked the feminine voice. “Do you hear me now?” + </p> + <p> + “No, speak louder. This is Mr. Williams. Speak up. I can't understand + you.” The voice was petulant and so distinct that even Shirley could hear + it, as he knelt by the side of the phonograph. Again Van Cleft insisted on + his deafness. There was the suggestion of a break in the voice which + brought to Shirley's eyes the sparkle of a presentiment of success. At + last Van Cleft admitted that he could hear. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you fool, I've a message for your friend Mr. Van Cleft.” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” was the innocent inquiry, as he forgot for an instant that + now he was the sole bearer of that name. + </p> + <p> + “The one that's left. Tell him there will be none left if he continues + this gum-shoe work. He had better let well enough alone, and let that + little girl get out of town as soon as possible. The papers will go crazy + over a scandal like this, and some one is apt to grab Van Cleft. That's + all. Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + Silently Shirley shut off the lever of the machine, to catch up the + receiver. As before his endeavor to locate the call resulted in a new + address: this time in the Bronx! + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the lady leaps from the business district to the Bronx in half an + hour. That is what I call some traveling.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft studied him with open mouth, as he withdrew the phonograph + record, coating it with the preservative to make the tiny lines permanent. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of common sense, who was that? And what's this phonograph + game?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “The second question may answer the first before sunrise, unless I am + badly mistaken. I have heard an old adage which declares that if you give + a man long enough rope he will hang himself. My new application is that + you let him talk enough he is apt to sing his own swan song, for a + farewell perch on the electric chair at Sing Sing!” + </p> + <p> + Then he lit a cigarette and packed up the phonograph. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE MISBEHAVIOR OF THE 'PHONE + </h2> + <p> + Still befuddled by the unusual events of the day, Howard Van Cleft was + unable to delight in a theoretical discovery. Personal fear began to + manifest itself. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Shirley, you're going at this too strong. We know the guilty party—this + miserable girl in the machine. We want to hush it up and let things go at + that.” + </p> + <p> + “We're hushing it, aren't we?” demanded Shirley, as he placed the record + in the grip. “Don't you see the wisdom of knowing who may systematically + blackmail you after secrecy is obtained. This is a matter of the future, + as well as the present.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't want to lose my own life—I am young, with life before + me, and I want to let well enough alone, after these threats.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that you have a yellow streak.” His lip curled as he studied + the pallid features of the heir to the Van Cleft millions. Fearless + himself, he could still understand the tremors of this care-free + butterfly: yet he knew he must crush the dangerous thoughts which were + developing. “If you mistrust me, hustle for yourself. You have the + death-certificate, the services will be over in a few days, and then you + will have enough money to live on your father's yacht or terra firma for + the rest of your life, in the China Sea, or India, as far away from + Broadway chorus girls as you want. That might be safe.” + </p> + <p> + He gazed out of the window, toward the twinkling lights far away across + the East River. His sarcasm made Van Cleft wince as though from a whip + lash. The latter mopped his forehead and tried to steady his voice, as he + replied with all humility. + </p> + <p> + “You're a brick, and I don't mean to offend you. Today has been terrible, + you know: this tornado has swept me from my moorings. I don't know where + to turn.” + </p> + <p> + “I am thoughtless,” and Shirley's warm hand grasped the flaccid fingers of + the young man. “Forgive me for letting my interest run away with my + sympathies. I'm thinking of the future, more than mere protection from + newspaper scandal. This crime is so ingenious that I believe it has a more + powerful motive than mere robbery. You are now at the head of a great + house of finance and society. You must guard your mother and your sister, + and those yet to come. A deadly snake is writhing its slimy trail + somewhere: here—there—'round about us! Who knows where it will + strike next? Who knows how far that blow may reach—even unto China, + or wherever you run?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, studying the effect upon Van Cleft, who dropped limply into + a chair, his eyes dark with terror. The psychological ruse had won. + Selfish cowardice, which temporarily threatened to ruin his campaign, now + gave way to the instinct of a fighting defense. + </p> + <p> + “There, Van Cleft, it is ghastly. You have the significance now: we must + scotch the snake. That girl is over at the Holland Agency, and we should + see her at once, to learn what she knows. Cronin has arranged for my + coming with you, so introduce me under my real name. + </p> + <p> + “Wait here fifteen minutes after I leave, so that I may get the phonograph + in readiness, for you will undoubtedly be shadowed, and that may mean + another telephone call. You were not a coward in college—I do not + believe you are one now!” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft straightened up proudly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I will fight them with all I have. But why these phonograph records: + isn't one enough?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I want autographs of all the voices. I will go now. Don't hurry in + following me. Do not fear to let any shadowers see you—it will help + us along.” + </p> + <p> + Before many minutes he had been admitted to the corridor of the Holland + Agency by a sharp-nosed individual who regarded him with suspicion. The + operatives were undoubtedly expecting trouble from all quarters, for three + other large men of the “bull” type, heavy-jowled, ponderous men, + surrounded him as he presented his card. + </p> + <p> + “I am the friend of Howard Van Cleft, about whom Captain Cronin telephoned + you from Bellevue. I am to help him interview the girl: may I wait until + he arrives?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're wise to the case? Sure then, come into the reception room on + the right. What's that in your grip?” asked the apparent leader of the + men. + </p> + <p> + “Just an idea of Van Cleft's,” said Shirley, as he followed into the + adjoining compartment. “It's a phonograph. Have you received any phoney + 'phone calls to-night? Queer ones that you didn't expect and couldn't + explain? Van Cleft has, and he decided to take records of them on this + machine.” + </p> + <p> + The superintendent nodded. Shirley opened the grip and drew out the + instrument, and made ready on the small table, near which was the desk + telephone. + </p> + <p> + “Let's get this in readiness then, and if you get any calls have them + switched up to this instrument, so that when you talk, you can hold the + receiver handy to the horn.” + </p> + <p> + “Young feller, I think you must know more about this business than you've + a right to. Just keep your hands above the table—I think I'll frisk + you!” + </p> + <p> + “No need,” snapped Shirley with a smile in his eyes, and the automatic + revolver was drawn and covering the detective before he could reach + forward. “But I have no designs on you. You will have to work quicker than + that with some people in this case.” + </p> + <p> + He slid the weapon across the table to the other who snatched it + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “If a call comes and you don't recognize the voice at once, please ask the + party to come closer to the 'phone, to speak louder—listen, there is + the bell now! Get it connected here at once!” + </p> + <p> + The surprised superintendent, fearing that after all he might miss some + good lead, yielded to his professional curiosity against his professional + prejudices. He bawled down the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Switch on up here, Mike. I'll talk.” He caught up the instrument, as + Shirley dropped to his knees beside him, to swing the horn into place. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” he shouted over the wire. “Yes, shure it is—What's + that you say?—I don't get you, cull—You want to speak to the + girl?—What girl?—Talk louder. Hire a hall!—Say, I ain't + no mind reader! Speak up.” + </p> + <p> + Over the instrument came the phrase once more: “Can you hear me now?” + </p> + <p> + It was the man's voice! Shirley was exultant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I hear you. What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to call for my sister, if you're going to let her go. I want—” + </p> + <p> + An inspiration prompted Shirley to press down the prongs of the receiver. + The connection was stopped, and the superintendent turned upon him + angrily. + </p> + <p> + “You spoiled that, you nut! We was just about to find out who her brother + was—say, who are you, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “There, don't you worry. That makes another call certain. Don't you see? + That's what I'm playing for. But here comes Van Cleft, who will tell you I + am all right.” + </p> + <p> + The millionaire entered the hallway before any serious altercation could + arise. He greeted Shirley warmly and introduced him to Pat Cleary. The man + was mollified. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm Captain Cronin's right bower, and I thinks as how this guy is + the joker of the deck trying to make a dirty deuce out of me. But, if you + want to see the girl, she's right upstairs. His work was a little speedy + on first acquaintance. Nick, keep your eyes on this machine, for we may + get another call on this floor—This way gentlemen. Watch your step, + for the hallway's dark.” + </p> + <p> + The girl was imprisoned in a windowless room on the second floor. As the + door opened, Shirley beheld a pitiful sight. Attired in the finery of the + Rialto, she lay prone upon a couch in the center of the dingy room, + sobbing hysterically. Her blonde hair was disheveled, her features wan and + distorted from her paroxysms of fear and grief. Like a frightened animal, + she sprang to her feet as they entered the room, retreating to the wall, + her trembling hands spread as though to brace her from falling. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't do it! I swear! The old fool was soused and I don't know what + was the matter with me. But I didn't kill any one in the world!” + </p> + <p> + “There, sit down, little girl, and don't get frightened. This gentleman + and I have come to learn the truth—not to punish you for something + you didn't do. Start with the beginning and tell all you remember.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley's gentle manner was so unexpected, his voice so inspiring that she + relaxed, sinking to the floor, as Shirley caught her limp girlish form in + his arms. He placed her on the couch again, and she regained her composure + under his calm urging. Little by little she visualized the details of the + gruesome evening and narrated them under the magnetic cross-questions of + the criminologist. + </p> + <p> + She had met the elder Van Cleft in the tea-room of a Broadway hostelry, by + appointment made the evening before at Pinkie Taylor's birthday party. + After several drinks together they took a taxicab to ride uptown to a + little chop house. Did she see any one she knew in the tea-room? Of + course, several of the fellows and girls whom she couldn't remember just + now, buzzed about, for Van Cleft was a liberal entertainer around the + youngsters. She had five varieties of cocktails in succession, and she + became dizzy. In the taxicab she became dizzier and when next she + remembered anything definite she was sitting on the stool in the garage + where she had been arrested. That was all. As she reached this point there + came a knock on the door with a call for Van Cleft. + </p> + <p> + “You Van's son!” she screamed. Then she fainted, while Shirley caught her, + calling an assistant to care for her, as he followed Van Cleft downstairs + to answer the telephone. “You know your cues?” + </p> + <p> + The millionaire nodded, as with trembling fingers he caught up the + instrument and knelt on the bare floor to hold it close to the phonograph, + which Shirley was engineering, with a fresh record in place. + </p> + <p> + “Hello! Hello, there, I say. Hello!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley strained his ears, to hear this time a rough, wheezy voice which + caused the two men to exchange startled glances, as it proceeded: “Is this + you, Howard, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want? I can't hear you. The telephone is buzzing. Louder + please!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley nodded approbation, as the machine ran along merrily. + </p> + <p> + “Now, can you hear me. Ahem! Can you hear me now? Is this Howard Van + Cleft?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, go ahead, but louder still.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, can you hear me? This is your father's dearest friend, Howard,—this + is William Grimsby speaking. I am fearfully distressed and shocked to + learn of his death, my poor boy. And Howard, I am grieved to learn that + there is some little scandal about it. As your father's confidential + adviser, I urge you to hush it up at all cost. I was told at your home + just now by one of the servants that you had gone to this vulgar detective + agency.” + </p> + <p> + Here Shirley shut off the phonograph, addressing Van Cleft with his hand + over the mouthpiece of the telephone for the minute. + </p> + <p> + “Keep on talking until I return. Get his advice about flowers and + everything else you can think of.” + </p> + <p> + Then he ran from the room, into the hallway, out of the door, and down the + stoop to Fortieth Street. He looked about uncertainly, then espied across + the way a tailor shop, where the light of the late workman still burned. + Monty hurried thither and asked the use of the telephone upon the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Shuair, mister, but it will cost you a dime, for I have to pay the gas + and the rent.” + </p> + <p> + From the telephone directory he obtained the address and number of William + Grimsby, the banker. He received an answer promptly. The servant, after + learning his name promised to call the master. A gruff voice answered + soon. Mr. Grimsby declared that he had been reading in his library for the + last two hours, undisturbed by any telephone calls. Shirley expressed a + doubt. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you doubt my word, sir. The telephone is in my reception room + where I heard it ring just now, for the first time. What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “An interview with you to-morrow morning at nine on a life and death + matter. I can merely remind you, sir, that two of your friends, Wellington + Serral and Herbert de Cleyster have met mysterious deaths during the past + week. Mr. Van Cleft died of heart failure to-night. I will be there at + nine. As you value your own life do not leave your residence or even + answer any telephone messages again until I see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be—” Shirley disconnected, before the verb was reached. + He tossed the coin to the tailor, and speedily returned to the waiting + room where he signaled Van Cleft to end the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Quick now, find out what wire called you up.” The answer was “William + Grimsby, 97 Fifth Avenue.” + </p> + <p> + “You had the wrong tip that time, Mr. Shirley,” said Van Cleft. “But how + could he have found out where I was, for none of the servants know about + Captain Cronin, or even my family that I was coming down here. He gave me + some good advice however. I want to pay the hush money and end it all + forever.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley had preserved the record and put it away with the others in the + grip. Now he lit a cigarette and puffed several rings of smoke before + answering. + </p> + <p> + “Van, it must be wonderful to be twins.” + </p> + <p> + “This is no night for joking,” petulantly, observed the nervous young man. + “I want the girl silenced—” + </p> + <p> + “She won't open her mouth after I tell her some things. It may entertain + you to know, Van, that while you were getting such good advice from Mr. + Grimsby on this wire, I was talking to the real Mr. Grimsby on his own + wire: he said I was his first caller in more than an hour. So, I gave him + some good advice, which wouldn't interest you. After this don't believe + what the telephone tells.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was I speaking with?” + </p> + <p> + “The most brilliant criminal it has ever been my pleasure to run across,” + and his eyes snapped with joy, the huntsman instinct rising to the surface + at last, “I will call him the voice until I know his better name. He is + the most scientific crook of the age.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about criminals?” was the incredulous question. + </p> + <p> + “I'll know a hundred times as much as I do now, when I know all about this + one, Van. You'd better have Cleary send an armed guard along with you, and + get home for a good rest. Get a man who can drive a car, and bring back + the empty auto three houses away from your residence: it will bear looking + into! I'm going up to have a revival meeting with that girl now, for I am + convinced that she is not a whit more implicated in the conception or + execution of this crime than you are. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft left the house, with a pitying shake of the head. He was not + quite certain that he had done wisely, after all, in bringing his + eccentric friend into the affair. He little reckoned how much more + peculiarly Montague Shirley was to act for the remainder of the night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. AN EXPERIMENT WITH THE “MOVIES” + </h2> + <p> + The cross-examination of Polly Marion resulted in little advantage. She + had known of the sudden departure of two other songbirds, well equipped + with funds for the land of Somewhere Else. Their absence had been the + subject of some quiet jesting among the dragon flies who flitted over the + pond of pleasure. A suggestion, from some unrecalled source, that their + disappearance had been connected with the deaths of the two aged suitors + was revitalized in her memory by the words of the elderly detective. + Familiar with the strange life of this jeweled half-world Shirley's + keenness brought forth nothing to convince him that the girl had been more + culpable than in the following of her class, known to the initiate as the + “gentle art of gold digging.” + </p> + <p> + “Polly, go home now, and stay away from these parties: that's my honest + advice, if you want to be on the 'outside looking in,' when some one is + sent to prison for this. I am in favor of hushing up this affair, and want + to ease it up for you. Are you wise?” + </p> + <p> + Polly was wise, beyond her years. Her equipoise was regained, and with a + coquettish interest in this handsome interviewer—such girls always + have an eye for future business—he returned to her theatrical + lodging house, in which at least dwelt her wardrobe and makeup box when + she was “trouping” in some spangled chorus. Of recent months she had not + been subjected to the Hurculean rigors of bearing the spear, thanks to the + gratuities of the open-handed Van Cleft, Senior. She pleaded to remain out + of the white lights, meaning it as she spoke. But Shirley wisely felt that + the butterfly would emerge from the chrysalis, shortly, to flutter into + certain gardens where he would fain cull rare blossoms! Pat Cleary + deputized a “shadow” to diarize her exits and entrances. + </p> + <p> + “The hooks are cleaned, with fresh bait upon them,” soliloquized Shirley, + as he went down the dark stoop. “Now for a little laboratory work on the + wherefore of the why!” + </p> + <p> + Although long after midnight, he numbered among his acquaintanceship, many + whom he could find far from Slumber-land. His steps led to the apartment + of a certain theatrical manager, whom he found engaged in a lively + tournament of the chips, jousting with two leading men, one playwright, a + composer and a merchant prince. The latter, of course, was winning. The + host, contributing both chips and bottled cheer, was far from optimistic + until the arrival of the club man. + </p> + <p> + “A live one abaft the mizzen!” exclaimed Dick Holloway, “Here's Shirley + sent by Heaven to join us. After all I hope to pay my next month's rent.” + </p> + <p> + Noisily welcomed by the victims of mercantile prowess, he apologetically + declined to flirt with Dame Fortune, pleading a business purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Business, Monty! By the shade of Shakspeare! I never knew you to look at + business, except to prevent it running you down like a Fourth Avenue mail + bus.” + </p> + <p> + “It is in the interest of science,” said Shirley, drawing the manager + aside, “an experiment—” + </p> + <p> + “Fudge on science. You interrupt a game at this time of night!” + </p> + <p> + “But it means money. I am willing to pay.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Monty, money should never come between friends, and so I retract: + with three failures this season, because the public doesn't appreciate + art.” + </p> + <p> + “It's about moving pictures. I know that you have floated a syndicate for + big productions. Do you work night and day?” + </p> + <p> + “An investment? Heaven bless you! Come into my bedroom and we'll arrange + things of course, we work at night. Just this minute they are producing + the 'Bartered Bride' in six reels and eighteen thrills a foot. A + magnificently equipped studio, the public yelling for more how much have + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so fast, Dick. It's merely some special work tonight, what you would + call trick photography. I need a photographer, some lights, a little + space, a microscopic lens and the complete developing during the night. + And, I'll pay cash, as I have done with some suspicious poker losses in + this temple of the muses on bygone evenings. Which, I may urge with gentle + sarcasm is more than I have frequently received at your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Touche!” laughed Holloway. “I'll write a note to the studio manager—he's + there now, and will do what you want. You could have your picture + completed by morning with a little financial coaxing applied in the right + place. Come to the library table. Go on with the game, boys, it will save + me a little.” + </p> + <p> + The potentate of dry goods was drawing in his winnings, as Shirley leaned + over Holloway's shoulder to dictate the missive. Suddenly a revolver shot + rang out from the window, and a bullet crashed into the wall behind + Shirley's head. + </p> + <p> + His hand, idly dropped into his overcoat pocket, intuitively closed around + his automatic revolver. A dark silhouette was outlined against the gray + luminosity cast up by the lights of Broadway, half a block from the + window. Through the opening another belching flame shot forth, to be + answered by the criminologist's weapon, barking like a miltraileuse. They + heard a stifled cry, and as Shirley ran forward, he exclaimed with + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “He's escaped down the fire-escape and through that skylight.” + </p> + <p> + He faced about to smile grimly at the curious scene within. The playwright + had taken refuge among the brass andirons of the big empty fireplace. The + matinee heroes were under chairs, and Holloway behind the mahogany buffet. + From the direction of the stairway came shrill cries from the speeding + merchant, softening in intensity as he neared the street level. + </p> + <p> + “The battle's over!” exclaimed Holloway. “I don't know whether it was my + chorus men wishing the gipsy curse on me, or the stage-carpenters going on + a strike. But look! See the swag that Jerry left behind! What shall we do + with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Loot!” suggested the playwright, with rare discrimination, as he dusted + off the wood ashes, and approached the table with glistening eyes. “We'll + divide share and share alike. It's the only way to win from Jerry.” + </p> + <p> + Temperament was asserting its gameness. Shirley put back into position a + shattered portrait of Sarah Bernhardt, and his eyes twinkled as the + apostles of the muses hastened to divide the chips of the departed one + into five generous piles. Holloway completed the letter, albeit with a + nervous chirography, and handed him the envelope. + </p> + <p> + “Go now, before a submarine war zone is declared. I'm going to close up + shop before the police come visiting. Good luck, Monty, in the cause of + science.” + </p> + <p> + Although his conscience was clear about the game having created five + surprised winners by his interruption, he was disturbed over the certainty + that the voice was aware of his personal work in the case. The + difficulties were now trebled! Before any policemen appeared Shirley had + passed Broadway on his way to the motion picture studio, on the West side + of Tenth Avenue. Whatever secret observers may have been on his tracks, + nothing untoward occurred: still, his senses were quickened into caution + by the attempt on his life. + </p> + <p> + A parley with a grumpy gateman, the presentation of his letter and he was + admitted to the presence of the manager, a man exhausted with the + strenuosity of night and day work. Shirley understood the antidote for his + sullenness. + </p> + <p> + “Here, old man, send out for a little luncheon for the two of us. I have + some unusual experimental work, and need the assistance of a well-known + expert like yourself.” The flattery, embellished by a ten-dollar bill, + opened a flood-gate of optimism. + </p> + <p> + A camera man was summoned, and the apparatus prepared for some “close-up” + motion pictures. Under the weird green lights of the mercury vapor lamps, + a director and company of players were busily enacting a dramatic scene, + before a studio set. They gave little heed to the newcomer: boredom is a + prime requisite of poise in the motion picture art. + </p> + <p> + “I have here three phonograph records, which I want photographed.” + </p> + <p> + “But they don't move—you want a still camera,” exclaimed the + dumfounded manager. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they do move as the picture is taken. I want a microscopic lens used + in the camera in such a way that we take a motion picture of the twinings + and twistings of one little thread on the wax cylinder, as it records the + sound waves around the cylinder.” + </p> + <p> + The photographer sniffed with scorn, being familiar with eccentric + uplifters of the “movies,” but responded to the command of the manager to + adjust his delicate camera mechanism for the task. + </p> + <p> + “There is a certain phrase of words on each cylinder which I want recorded + this way. Can all three be taken parallel with each other on the same + film?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, easiest thing to do—just a triple exposure. We take it on one + edge of the film, through a little slit just a bit wider than the space of + the thread, cut in a screen. Then we rewind that film, and slide the slit + to the middle of the lens, take your second wax record, and do the same on + the right edge of the film for the third. But what's the idea?” + </p> + <p> + The camera man began to show interest: he was a skilled mechanician and he + caught the drift of a sensible purpose, at last. + </p> + <p> + Shirley did not answer. He placed the first record in the phonograph, + running it until the feminine voice could be distinguished asking: “Can + you hear me now?” He marked the beginning and end of this phrase with his + pocket knife. So with the merry masculine and the aged, disagreeable + voice, he located the same order of words: “Can you hear me now?” The + operation seems easy, in the telling, or again perhaps it appears + intensely involved and hardly worth the trouble. A motto of Shirley's was: + “Nothing is too much trouble if it's worth while.” So, with this. To the + cynical camera man its general nature was expressed in his whispered + phrase to the manager: + </p> + <p> + “You better not leave them property butcher knives on that there table, + Mr. Harrison. This gink is nuts: he thinks's he's Mike Angelo or some + other sculpture. He'll start sculpin' the crowd in a minute!” + </p> + <p> + “You take the picture and keep your opinions to yourself,” snapped Shirley + whose hearing was highly trained. + </p> + <p> + The man lapsed into silence. For two hours they fumed and perspired and + swore, under the intense heat of the low-hung mercury lamps, until at last + a test proved they had the right combination. Shirley greased the skill of + the camera man with a well-directed gratuity, and ordered speedy + development of the film. Before this was done, however, he took six other + records of voices from the folk in the studio, using the same words: “Can + you hear me now?” + </p> + <p> + The three strips of triple exposures were taken to the dark room and + developed by the camera man. They were dried on the revolving electric + drums, near a battery of fans. Shirley studied every step of the work, + with this and that question—this had been his method of acquiring a + curiously catholic knowledge of scientific methods since leaving the + university, where sporting proclivities had prompted him to slide through + courses with as little toil as possible. + </p> + <p> + A print upon “positive” film was made from each: every strip was + duplicated twenty-five times, at Shirley's suggestion. Then after two + hours of effort the material was ready to be run through the projecting + machine, for viewing upon the screen. + </p> + <p> + The manager led Shirley to the small exhibition theatre in which every + film was studied, changed and cut from twenty to fifty times before being + released for the theatres. The camera man went into the little fire-proof + booth, to operate the machine. + </p> + <p> + “Which one first, chief?” + </p> + <p> + “Take one by chance,” said Shirley, “and I will guess its number. Start + away.” + </p> + <p> + There was a flare of light upon the screen, as the operator fussed with + the lamp for better lumination. He slowly began to turn the crank, and the + criminologist watched the screen with no little excitement. The picture + thrown up resembled nothing so much as three endless snakes twisting in + the same general rhythm from top to bottom of the frame. The twenty-five + duplicates were all joined to the original, so that there was ample + opportunity to compare the movements. + </p> + <p> + “Well, gov'nor, which film was that?” asked the operator. + </p> + <p> + “Not A—it was B or C!” + </p> + <p> + “Correct. How'd you guess it? Which is this one?” + </p> + <p> + As he adjusted another roll of film in the projector, Shirley turned to + the manager sitting at his side. “Mr. Harrison, were those snakes all + exactly alike?” + </p> + <p> + “No. They all wriggled in the same direction, at the same time. But little + rough angles in some movements and queer curves in others made each + individually different.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I thought. There goes another.—That is not film A, + either!” + </p> + <p> + “Righto!” confirmed the camera man. As the detailed divergence between the + lines became more evident in the repetitions, Shirley slapped his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Now for the finish. Try reel A.” + </p> + <p> + This time the three snakey lines moved along in almost identical + synchronism. The only difference was that the first was thin, the second + heavier, the third the darkest and most ragged of all. The relationship + was unmistakable! + </p> + <p> + “I got you gov'nor,” cried the operator. “Some dope, all right, all + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is all this?” asked the manager, nonplussed. “The last three + are alike, but what good does it do?” + </p> + <p> + “It is known that the human voice in its inflections is like handwriting—with + a distinct personality. Certain words, when pronounced naturally, without + the alterations of dialect, are always in the same rhythm. The records + taken in the studio of those five words, 'Can you hear me now?' are in the + same general rhythm, but only the last three snakes show exact similarity, + to each little quaver and turn. There was only the difference in shading: + one was the voice of a women. The second of a man of perhaps forty, the + third of an old man—all three taken at different times, and I + thought from different people. But they all came from one throat, and my + work is completed along this line—Will you please lock up the films, + the phonograph, and my records in your film vault, until I send for them; + through Mr. Holloway?” + </p> + <p> + The criminologist arose and walked into the deserted studio, from whence + the company had long since departed for belated slumbers. He picked up + three bricks which lay in a corner of the big studio, and placed them + gently into his grip. The manager and the camera man observed this with + blank amazement, as he locked it and put the key into his pocket. Then he + handed each of them a large-sized bill. + </p> + <p> + “I'm very grateful, gentlemen, for your assistance. Pleasant dreams.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley abstractedly walked out of the studio, one hand comfortably in his + overcoat pocket, swinging the grip in the other. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Lou,” confided the manager, “he's the craziest guy I've ever seen in + the movies. And that's going some, after ten years of it.” + </p> + <p> + Lou treated himself to a generous bite of plug tobacco, and spat + philosophically, before replying. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, he's crazy. Crazy, like the grandfather of all foxes!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. ENTER A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN + </h2> + <p> + A reddening zone in the East silhouetted the serrated line of the distant + elevated structure, as Shirley walked along the gray street, his thoughts + busy with the possibilities of applying his new certainty. + </p> + <p> + He had reached Sixth Avenue, and was just passing one of the elevated + pillars when a black touring car crept up behind him. The clanging bell + and the grinding motors of an early surface car drowned the sound of the + automobile in his rear. Suddenly the big machine sprang forward at highest + speed. A man leaned from the driver's seat, and snatched the grip from his + hand. + </p> + <p> + The motorman, cursing, threw on the emergency brake, in time to barely + graze the machine with his fender as it shot across the street before him. + </p> + <p> + Shirley's view was cut off, until he had run around the street-car—then + he beheld the big automobile skidding in a half-circle, as it turned down + Fifth Avenue. It was too far away to distinguish the number of the singing + license tag. + </p> + <p> + “Much good may the bricks do them! Perhaps they will help to build the + annex necessary up the river, when these gentry go there for a long + visit.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley laughed at the joke on his pursuers, and turned into a little + all-night grill for a comforting mutton chop of gargantuan proportions, + with an equally huge baked potato. He was a healthy brute, after all his + morbid line of activities! Later, at the Club, he submitted to the + amenities of the barber, whose fine Italian hand smoothed away, in a + skilful massage, the haggard lines of his long vigil. As he left the club + house for William Grimsby's residence he looked as fresh and bouyant as + though he had enjoyed the conventional eight hours' sleep. + </p> + <p> + “You are this Montague Shirley?” was the querulous greeting from the old + gentleman, when he was admitted to the drawing-room. “You kept me in + anguish the entire night, with your silly words. The telephone bell rang + at intervals of half an hour until dawn: I may have missed some important + business deal by not replying What do you mean? Is this some blackmail + game?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. It has to deal with blackmailing, however—but not for my + profit.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain quickly. I am a busy man. My motor is waiting now to take me to + my office.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Mr. Grimsby, at this memorandum book,” said Shirley, holding + forward the list which he had copied from the joy-party article in the + theatrical paper. “With some friends of yours, you held merry carnival to + Venus and Bacchus at an all-night lobster palace not long ago. Have I the + right names?” + </p> + <p> + “This is rank impertinence. How dare you? Get out of my house.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so fast, my dear sir, until you understand my drift. Throughout Club + circles you and Mr. Van Cleft, with these other cronies are sarcastically + referred to as the Lobster Club. Did you know that?” + </p> + <p> + Grimsby's face was purple with angry mortification, but Shirley would not + be gainsaid. “I am acting in this matter as a friend of Howard Van Cleft,” + he continued. “Your three friends have met their deaths at the hand of a + cunning conspirator. Last night, white I talked with you on the telephone, + young Van Cleft was receiving advice over another wire from a person who + pretended to be William Grimsby—advising him to hush the matter up + and drop the investigation. But—Captain Cronin the famous detective—has + received a tip that the number of victims would be increased very soon—frankly, + now: do you want to be the fourth?” + </p> + <p> + Grimsby's face changed to ashen gray, as he timidly clutched Shirley's + sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Then cooperate with me. You understand now the nature of this villain's + work: to rob and assassinate his victim in the company of a girl, so that + this would endeavor to hush the scandal, without reporting it to the + police. His progress is unchecked, and afterwards he would have untold + opportunity for continuing a demand for hush money on the surviving + relatives. May I count on you to help?” + </p> + <p> + “You may count on me to leave the city within the next two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! But I want to have you disappear so quietly that this cunning + unknown will not know of it. He is watching your house now, without a + doubt.” + </p> + <p> + Grimsby strode to the window, with his characteristic limp, and drew the + heavy curtains aside, to peer out nervously. + </p> + <p> + “No one is in sight.” + </p> + <p> + “The man is as unseen in his work as a germ. But he is not unheard: he + uses the telephone to locate his victims, that is why I advised you to let + your instrument ring unanswered.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do what I can, if I can keep out of more danger. An old man craves + life more than a young one. I fought through the Civil War and brought a + medal from Congress and this wounded knee out of it, Mr. Shirley. I didn't + fear anything then, but times have changed!” + </p> + <p> + “Here is my plan, then,” continued Shirley, his lips twitching with + sub-strata amusement, “I want to impersonate you, when you leave, so that + this man tries to send me after the other three. Don't interrupt, let me + finish—You will say that it is impossible to deceive any one at + close range. Surely, it does sound melodramatic, like a lurid tale of a + paper back novel. But I have studied the photographs of your friends. You + and I bear the closest resemblance of any in the group. Your weight is + about the same as mine—your shoulders are a trifle stooped and you + walk with a curious drag of your left foot. Your hair is white but thick: + the contour of our faces is quite similar, and so with dry cosmetics, some + physical mimicry, and the use of a pair of horn-rimmed glasses like yours + I can make a comparatively good double. The only exposure to the sharp + eyes of your enemies will be, first, when I substitute myself for you and + take your automobile back home; second, when I go down to the theatrical + district, to visit a well-known tearoom where I learn you are a frequent + guest. There the wall tables are shrouded by decorations, and I shall keep + in the shadow and talk as little as possible. Behind those dark glasses, + and entering the place with your peculiarly spotted fur coat, I will + resemble you more than you believe. If to add to the illusion, I show + hospitable prodigality with drinks for the others, it is probable that + their observation will be less analytical. Then, third in the line of + activities, I will go to the theatre, sit in a darkened box, and let them + take me where they will in whatever automobile turns up. Thus you see my + campaign.” + </p> + <p> + “How much do I have to pay you?” + </p> + <p> + “I might have expected that,” was the laughing retort. “You are noted for + the fortunes you waste on stupid show girls, while times are hard with you + in your offices where young and old men struggle along to support honest + families. Have no fear, Mr. Grimsby, my income is enough for my simple + wants. I am entering this hunt for big game, just as I have gone to India + and East Africa, for jungle trophies. It will not cost you a nickel.” + </p> + <p> + “I had better contribute a little,” began Grimsby, embarrassed, as he drew + out a check-book. But Shirley negatived with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “How about your servants? Can you trust them with the secret?” + </p> + <p> + “They have been with me for twenty-five years or more. My wife is in + California, and the rest of the servants, except two maids and a butler, + up at my country home on the Hudson.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine: then, in two hours from now, meet me at the Hotel Astor, where I + have rooms, in the name of Madden. Bring down an extra suit of clothes, + and an extra overcoat, for I want to wear your fur one, which I see there + on the davenport. On the downward trip instruct your chauffeur to drive + your car up to your country place, as soon as he has made the return trip + from the hotel. You will be there before he gets up, on the country roads + and he will be none the wiser. Goodbye, Mr. Grimsby.” + </p> + <p> + At the club Shirley made some necessary disposition of his private + matters, for he knew this case would run longer than a day. From his rooms + he sent a note by messenger to his theatrical friend, Dick Holloway, which + read simply. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Holloway:—The experiment with the movies won the blue ribbon. + I have a new plan on foot. You can help me in this, as well. I want you to + engage for me a beautiful, clever and daring actress, afraid of nothing + under the sun or moon, and absolutely unknown on Broadway. No amateurs or + stage-struck heiresses or manicurists: you are the one impresario who can + fill my bill. I will call at your office in fifteen minutes, so have the + compact sealed by then. Who finally won the loot, last night? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your friend, Montague Shirley.” + </pre> + <p> + The manager was forced to go through the note twice, to make sure that his + senses were not leaving him. Then he turned in the chair, toward the + unusual young woman who sat in his private office, observing with mingled + amusement and curiosity the fleeting expressions upon his face. + </p> + <p> + “In view of your mission in America, this may interest you,” was his + amused comment, as he handed her the missive. “It is from the most curious + man in New York.” + </p> + <p> + He studied the downcast lashes, as she read the letter. Hers was a face + which had stirred a continent, yet he had never met her until this + memorable day. She might have been twenty-three years old—and again, + might have been three years younger or older. Rippling red-gold waves of + hair separated in the center of her smooth brow to caress with a soft wave + on either side the blooming cheeks, whose Nature-grown roses were unusual + in this world-weary vicinity of Broadway. A sweet mouth with a sensuous + smile at one corner, and a barely perceptible droop of pathos at the + other, lent an indescribable piquance to her dimpled smile. The blue orbs + which raised to his own with a Sphinxian laugh in their azure depths + thrilled him—Holloway, the blase, the hardened theatrical manager, + flattered and cajoled by hundreds of beautiful women on the quest of stage + success! + </p> + <p> + Adroitly veiled beneath the silken folds of the clinging gown, redolent + with the bizarre artistry of a Parisian atelier, was the shapely + suggestion of exquisite physical perfection which did not escape the + connoisseur glance of Holloway. + </p> + <p> + “He is a literary man: I know that from the small, yet fluent writing, and + the cross marks for periods show that he has written for newspapers and + corrected his own proofs—He is unusually definite in what he desires + and accustomed to having his imperious way about most things. In this + case, he is easily pleased—merely perfection is his desire.” + </p> + <p> + “Shirley is generally prompt, and is apt to breeze in here any second now, + with his two hundred pounds and six feet of brawn and ginger. I wonder—” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you suppose such a paragon is desired by your friend? Who is he? + What is he like, not an ordinary actor—” and the wondrous eyes + darkened with a curious thought. + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady, no one has discovered the mental secrets of Montague + Shirley. He apparently wastes his life as do other popular society men + with much money and more time on their hands. Yet, somehow, I always feel + in his presence as one does when standing on the bow of an ocean liner, + with the salt breeze whizzing into your heart. He is a force of nature, + yet he explains nothing: a thorough man of the world; droll, sarcastic, + generous and I believe for democracy he is unequaled by any Tammany + politician: he knows more policemen, dopes, conductors, beggars, + chauffeurs, gangsters, bartenders, jobless actors, painters, preachers, + anarchists, and all the rest of New York's flotsam and jetsam than any one + in the world. He is always the polished gentleman, and yet they take him + man for man.” + </p> + <p> + “What does this unusual person do for a living?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but living!” + </p> + <p> + Her interest was naturally undiminshed by this perfervid tribute, and she + clapped her dainty hands together with sudden mirth. + </p> + <p> + “You know why I came here, and why to you, Mr. Holloway. You know who I + am, and although I answer none of those exorbitant terms except that I am + not known by sight along your big street Broadway, why not recommend me + for the position?” + </p> + <p> + “But you, of all people!” Holloway's face was a study in amazement. “You + can't tell what wild project he has in view. Shirley is a wild Indian, in + many things you know—just when you least expect it. I have known him + a dozen years.” + </p> + <p> + He paused to weigh the matter, and his sense of humor conquered. He roared + with mirth, which was joined in more sedately by the unknown girl. “That + settles it. You couldn't start on your campaign in a better way. You shall + be the Lady of Mystery in this story! I will not breathe a hint of your + identity to Shirley, and no one else knows, of course. What a ripping good + joke: I'm glad you came here the first hour after your landing in New + York.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I call myself? I have it—a romantic name, which will be + worth laughing over later—let me see—Helene Marigold. Is that + flowery enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Shirley will be sure you are an actress when he hears that. Mum is the + word, may you never have stage fright and never miss a cue—Here he + comes now!” + </p> + <p> + The criminologist rushed into the office impetuously, dropping his bag on + the floor, and doffing his hat as he beheld the pretty companion of + Holloway. + </p> + <p> + “On time to the minute, as usual, Shirley. Your note came, and I followed + your instructions. Let me present to you your new star, Miss Helene + Marigold, who just disembarked on the steamer from England this morning. + You have secured a young lady who is making all Europe sit up and rub its + eyes. I believe I have at last found a match for you, Prince of the + Unexpected!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley held forth his fervent hand, and was surprised at the almost + masculine sincerity with which the delicately gloved fingers returned the + pressure. He looked into the blue eyes with a challenging scrutiny, and + received as frank an answer! + </p> + <p> + Dick Holloway indulged in an unobserved smile, as he turned to look out of + the window, lost for the nonce in mirthful speculation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK + </h2> + <p> + “Dick, you can help me further, with your dramatic knowledge. I feel in + duty bound to tell Miss Marigold that she is risking her life, if she + takes up this task.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of hesitancy, which Shirley half expected, the girl's face flushed + with quickened interest, and her eyes sparkled with enjoyment as he + unfolded the situation. At the mention of Grimsby, Holloway grunted with + disgust—it may have been a variety of professional jealousy. Who + knows? However, the problem fascinated the mysterious young woman, who + blushed, in spite of herself, when Shirley put his blunt question to her. + </p> + <p> + “And you are willing to assume for a time the character of one of these + stage moths, whom rich men of this type pursue and woo, wine, dine and + boast about? Will it interfere with your own work? Any salary arranged by + Mr. Holloway is agreeable, for this unusual task.” + </p> + <p> + “The game, not the money, is the attraction. I will be ready when you + pronounce my cue.” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid. Dick, will you assist Miss Marigold in selecting an attractive + apartment in a theatrical hotel this afternoon. I will call for her at + four-thirty, to take her to tea. She may not know me, at first glance: + that depends upon the help you give me at the Astor. I will expect you + there in an hour. I haven't acted since I left the college shows: with a + hundred chances to one against my success, even I am not bored.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried from the office, and Holloway noted the glow in the girl's + glance which followed his stalwart figure. Holloway was a good tactician: + there were reasons why he enjoyed this new role of match-maker de luxe, + yet he played his hand far more subtly than at poker. Which was well! + </p> + <p> + Ensconced in the Astor, Shirley was soon busy before the cheval glass, + from which were suspended three photographs of William Grimsby, obtained + from a photographic news syndicate. + </p> + <p> + Coat and waistcoat had been removed, as he discriminatingly applied the + dry cosmetics with skill which suggested that he had disguised himself for + daylight purposes far more than he would admit. By the time he had + powdered his thick locks with the white pulverized chalk, and donned a + pair of horn-rim glasses of amber tint, his whole personality had changed. + The similarity was startling to the prototype who was admitted to the room + a few minutes later. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I beg pardon—I have come to the wrong suite,” were Grimsby's + apologetic words, as he essayed to retreat. + </p> + <p> + “You are the first victim of the mirage. Do you like the caricature?” + </p> + <p> + “Astounding, my friend!” gasped Grimsby, sinking into the chair. Shirley + drew him to the mirror, to make a closer study of the lines of senility + and late hours. A few delicate touches of purple and blue, some retouching + of the nostrils, and he drew on the suit provided by his elder. Dick + Holloway was announced, and Shirley ordered some wine and a dinner for + one! At Grimsby's surprise, Shirley, smiled indulgently. + </p> + <p> + “I am selfish—I will have a little supper party by myself, and spare + you in nothing. I want you to eat, to drink, to pour wine, to take out + your wallet, to walk, to sit down, to laugh, to scold! You have a task, + sir: I will imitate you move by move! This is a rare experiment.” + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott! Which is you?” cried Holloway who entered with the burdened + waiter. + </p> + <p> + “Neither. We're both me!” chuckled the criminologist. “But let me + introduce you to my twin—” + </p> + <p> + The two men exchanged formalities with an undercurrent of dislike. Shirley + lost no time. He compelled the old man to run through his paces, as + Holloway criticized each study in miming. Just as the capitalist would + swing his arms, limp with his left leg, shift his head ever so little, + from side to side in his walk, so Shirley copied him. A word here, an + exhortation there, and Shirley improved steadily under Holloway's + analytical direction. At last the lesson was ended, with the manager's + pronounciamento of “graduation cum lauda.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to star you, Monty,” he declared, as Shirley put on the fur + greatcoat of the old man, grasping the gold headed cane, and drooping his + shoulders in a perfect imitation of the other's attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it will be necessary. The chorus men have invaded society with + their fox-trots and maxixe steps. We club men will have to countercharge + the enemy, for self-preservation, to play heavy villains upon the stage. + Eh?” + </p> + <p> + He turned toward Grimsby, who was well wearied with the trying ordeal, and + evidencing a growing nervousness about his own escape. + </p> + <p> + “You know how to leave, according to my plan? Wrap the muffler well around + the lower part of your face, button this second overcoat closely about + your neck, and enter the private carriage which I ordered for 'Mr. Lee,' + waiting now at the Forty-fifth Street Side. Then drive leisurely to the + West Forty-second Street Ferry, where you can catch the late afternoon + train for your country place.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Mr. Shirley. I have been an old curmudgeon with you, I fear. + You have taught this old dog new tricks in several ways, young man. + Neither I nor my friends will forget your bravery. They are all out of the + city by now, according to word from my private secretary. Your field is + clear. Good luck, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley and Holloway left the rooms first. Neither addressed the other on + the lift, as it descended to the street level. Holloway casually followed + Monty as he stiffly walked to the big red limousine waiting at the + Forty-fourth Street entrance of the hostelry. The chauffeur sprang out, + opening the door with a respectful salute. The disguise was successful! + </p> + <p> + “Home!” grunted Shirley, sinking back into the car, with collar high about + his neck and the soft hat half concealing his eyes. He scrutinized the + faces of the passers-by, photographing in that receptive memory of his the + ugly features of two men, who peered into the limousine from under the + visors of their black caps. The car sped up town through the bewildering + maze of street traffic. The chauffeur helped him up the steps of the + brownstone mansion, while Grimsby's old butler swung open the glass door, + with a helping hand under the feeble arm. + </p> + <p> + Shirley puffed and grunted impatiently until he heard the door close + behind him. Then straightening up, he turned upon the startled butler. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my man. Go out and tell the chauffeur to leave for the country at + once, as Mr. Grimsby already ordered him to do.” + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd, sir!” exclaimed the servant, paling perceptibly. “What's come + over you, sir?—Oh, I beg pardon, sir, you're the other gentleman. + You certainly fooled me, sir—You're bloody brave, sir, to do all + this for the master. Are we in any danger?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit—whatever happens will be outside the house. Just keep up + the secret, as you value your master's life. Go, and tell the man. I must + kill time here in the library, reading until four o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley threw aside the greatcoat, and walked to the window of the small + reception room which faced the street, to draw aside the curtains and + watch the chauffeur, as he entered the machine to speed away. A black + automobile slowly passed the house, bearing two men on the driver's seat. + From under the visors of their black caps they scrutinized the building, + to hastily look away as they observed the face at the window. + </p> + <p> + Shirley made a note of the number of the machine. He could have sworn that + this was the same car which had passed him that morning at dawn when the + grip was snatched from his hand. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the library, where he lost himself in the rare old volumes + of Grimsby's life collection: the criminologist was a booklover and the + hours drifted by as in a happy playtime, until the butler came to tell him + the time. + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott! I must hurry. Call a taxi, for me. I will go to Holloway's + office to learn where Miss Marigold has been ensconced.” + </p> + <p> + He sat in the machine before the office building, as he sent the chauffeur + up to Dick's office, to inquire for a message to “Mr. Grimsby.” A note was + brought down, informing him that the girl awaited him in the Hotel + California, a few blocks above. The machine started off once more, and + Shirley laughed at the droll situation in which he found himself. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder who Helene Marigold can be? I wonder what Holloway meant + precisely when he predicted that I would meet my match. I am not seeking + one kind—and blue eyes, surrounded by red-gold hair and peaches and + cream will not shake my determination.” + </p> + <p> + But the best laid determinations of bachelor hearts gang aft agley! + </p> + <p> + Down at the Hotel California, famous for its rare collection of attractive + feminine guests and the manifold breach-of-promise suits which had + emanated from the palm bedecked entrance, Helene Marigold was indulging + herself in a delighted, albeit highly amused, inspection of sundry large + boxes which had been arriving from shops in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + “As nearly as I can imagine this must look like the bower of a Broadway + Phryne. All that is missing is a family portrait in crayon of the father + who was a coal miner, the presence of a buxom financial genius for the + stage mother, and a Chinese chow-dog on a cerise velvet cushion. But who + ever attains perfection here below?” + </p> + <p> + She lifted some filmy gowns which had arrived in the latest parcel to her + chin, peering over the sheerness of the lacy cascade, into the mirror of + the dressing-table. + </p> + <p> + “If good old Jack could see me now? Poor, old, stupid, dear, silly Jack! I + must write to him at once, for he is largely responsible for my present + unusual surroundings. How pleased this would not make him, the old dear.” + </p> + <p> + With the thought, she sat down before the escritoire, dipping a pearl and + gold pen, as she paused for the words with which to begin the note. + Another knock came at the door. It could not be another gown. She had told + Holloway to keep all her personal baggage at the steamer dock until she + had finished her lark! At the portal a diminutive messenger delivered a + large white box, ornately bound in lavender ribbons. When she unwrapped + it, hidden in the folds of many reams of delicate tissue, she found a + gorgeous bunch of orchids. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful! I wonder who could have—” then she found a white + card, and read it aloud, with a mirthful peal of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “To Lollypop's little Bonbon Tootems—from her foolish old Da-Da!” + </p> + <p> + Helene turned toward the window, to gaze out over the mysterious, foreign + motley array of roofs and obtruding skyscrapers of this curious district. + </p> + <p> + “This mysterious man plays his part with a sense of humor. If only he will + be different and not mean the flowers, ever!” + </p> + <p> + And she forgot to finish the note which was to have gone to faraway, + stupid, dear old Jack. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later an aged gentleman entered the gorgeous foyer of the + Hotel California, impatiently presenting his card to the bell-boy, for + announcement to Miss Marigold. The lad, true to tradition, quietly + confided the name to the interested clerk, before doing so. As the visitor + was shown to the elevator, the clerk turned to his assistant with a nudge. + </p> + <p> + “There's the easiest spender of the Lobster Club. That means good trade + here, with this new peach in the crate. These old ginks are hard as + Bessemer armor-plate in business, but oh, how soft the tumble for a new + shade of peroxide.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Grimsby” was soon sitting on the velour divan, at a comfortable + distance from possible eavesdroppers at the door. She was putting the + finishing touches to her preparation for the butterfly role. Shirley felt + an unexpected thrill at this little intimacy of their relations: the rooms + were permeated with the most delicate suggestion of a curious perfume, + which was strange to him. Somehow it fitted her personality so + effectually: for despite the physical appeal of her beauty, now + accentuated by the risque costume which she had donned, at the + professional suggestion of Dick Holloway, there was a pervasive + spirituality in the girl's face, her hands, and the tones of her soft + voice. + </p> + <p> + She turned to smile at him, her dimples playing hide and seek with the + white pearls beneath the unduly scarlet lip. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't this a ripping good situation for a novel?” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, too good at present, Miss Marigold. There are too many, important + people to be affected for it ever to be given to the public, for the + identities would all be exposed ruthlessly. Besides, no one would believe + it: it seems too improbable, being real life. It will be more improbable + before we finish the adventure, I suspect. Can I trust your discretion to + keep it secret? You know, I have a deal of skepticism about the best of + women.” + </p> + <p> + Helene reddened under that keen glance, and he saw that he had offended + her. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon: I know that we shall work it out together, with + absolute mutual trust.” + </p> + <p> + Such an earnest vibrance was in his voice that somehow she was reminded of + another voice: her mind went back to the neglected letter to Jack. What + could have caused her to be so remiss? She would not let herself dwell on + the subject—instead, with a surprising deftness, she caught up + Shirley's own cue, for a staggering question of her own. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure that you have absolutely confided in me? Did you start at + the beginning, when you told the story to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” and Shirley caught the glance sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Your unusual rapidity of action, Mr. Shirley, for a mere interested + friend! It is queer how wonderfully your mind has connected this work, and + the various accidental happenings, to evolve this clever ruse in which I + am to assist. It doesn't seem so amateurish as you would make it. You seem + mysterious to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I am the voice? Here is a chance for real detective work, if + you can double the game, and capture me?” was the laughing retort. “I + don't believe you trust me.” + </p> + <p> + The girl stood up before him, and after one deep look, her eyes fell + before his. Those exquisite lashes sent a tiny flutter through the + case-hardened heart of the club man, despite his desperate determination + to be a Stoic. + </p> + <p> + “I do trust you,” the voice was impetuous, almost petulant. “You are a + real man: I merely give you credit for being better than the class of rich + young men of whom you pretend to be an absolute type. But there, I waste + words and time. Is my costume for this little opera boufe satisfactory to + you? Do you like my warpaint and battle armor?” + </p> + <p> + She stood before him, a glorious bird of paradise. The wanton display of a + maddening curve of slender ankle, through the slash of the clinging gown + imparted just the needed allurement to stamp her as a Vestal of the temple + of Madness. The cunning simplicity of the draping over her shoulders—luminous + with the iridiscent gleam of ivory skin beneath, accentuated by the + voluptuous beauty of her youthful bosom—the fleeting change of + colors and contours as she slowly turned about in this maddening soul-trap + of silk and laces—all these were not lost on the senses of Shirley. + As the depths of those blue eyes opened before his gaze, a mad, a + ridiculous aching to crush her in his arms, surprised the professional + consulting criminologist! For this swift instant, all memory of the Van + Cleft case, of every other problem, was driven from his mind, as a + blinding blast of seething desire surged about him. + </p> + <p> + Then the old resolution, the conquering will of the man of one purpose, + beat back the flames of this threatening conflagration. His eyes narrowed, + his hands dropped to his side, and he squinted at her with the frigid + dissective gaze of an artist studying the curves of a model. + </p> + <p> + “You must rouge your cheeks more, blue your eyelids and redden your lips + even yet. Then be generous with the powder—and that wonderful + perfume.” + </p> + <p> + An inscrutable smile played about the sensitive lips, as Helene turned to + her dressing-table. Shirley stood with his face to the window; he did not + observe it, nor would he have understood its menace to his own peace of + mind. Helene, however, did. She was a woman. + </p> + <p> + “May I smoke a cigarette? I am afraid I am almost a fiend, for I seem to + crave the foolish comfort that I imagine they give, in times of nervous + drain.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Lollypop's little Bonton Tootems enjoys their fragrance. Don't ever + ask me again. I have completed the mural decoration with futurist + extravagance in the color scheme. My cloak, sir!” + </p> + <p> + He tossed it about her, and took up his hat and gold-headed stick. With a + final glance at his own careful make-up, he started after her for the + street. + </p> + <p> + “Some chikabiddy!” was the remark of the clerk to the head bell-boy. The + words reached the ears of Shirley and Helene. Her hand trembled on his arm + as they entered a waiting taxicab. She looked pathetically at him, as she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think I am interested, sincere and loyal, to brave such remarks + as these, and the other worse things they will say before long? I wouldn't + dare do this, if I were not sure that no one in America but you and Mr. + Holloway knows me. To wear this horrid stuff on my face—to dress in + these vulgar clothes—to impersonate such a girl! You know I'm not + nearly as bad as I'm painted!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley clasped her white-gloved hand and nodded. He was studying the + pedestrians for a familiar twain of faces. He was not disappointed, as the + car swung into Broadway. + </p> + <p> + “Look—those two men have been following me wherever I have gone. + They are a pair of old-fashioned pirates. Don't forget their faces!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. IN THE GARDEN OF TEMPTATION + </h2> + <p> + Their destination, one of the score of tango tea-rooms which had sprung to + mushroom popularity within the year, was soon reached. Leaning heavily + upon his stick, limping like his aged model, and spluttering impatiently, + Shirley was assisted by the uniformed door man into the lobby. Helene + followed meekly. Four hat boys from the check-room made the conventional + scramble for his greatcoat, hat and stick, nearly upsetting him in their + eagerness. Then Shirley led the way into the half light of the tropical, + indoor garden, picking a way through the tables to a distant wall seat, + embowered with electric grapes and artificial vines. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, my darling child,” said the pseudo Grimsby, as he dropped into + a seat behind the table, which was protected from the lights, and furthest + away from any possible visitors. “We are early, avoiding the crush. Soon + the crowd will be here. We must have some champagne at once, to assist me + in my defensive tactics. You will have to do most of the talking. + Remember, we are going to the Winter Garden musical review when we leave + here: you may tell this to whom you will.” + </p> + <p> + Helene looked about curiously, as the big tea-room began to fill with its + usual late afternoon crowd of patrons,—young, old and indeterminate + in age. Women of maturely years, young misses from “finishing” schools, + demimondaine, social “bounders” deluded by the glitter of their own + jewelry and the thrill of their wasted money that they were climbing into + New York society—these and other curious types rubbed elbows in this + melting pot of folly. The tinkle of glasses, the increasing buzz of + conversation, the empty laughter of too many emptied cocktail glasses + mingled with the droning music of an Hawaiian string quartette in the far + corner. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, with banging tampani and the crash of cymbals, rattle of + tambourines and beating of tomtoms, the barbaric Ethiopians of the dancing + orchestra began their syncopated outrages against every known law of + harmony—swinging weirdly into the bewitching, tickling, tingling + rhythm of a maxixe. + </p> + <p> + “How strange!” murmured Helene, as the waiter brought them some champagne + and indigestible pastries—the true ingredients of 'dansant the'. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, on with the dance-let joy be unrefined! The fall of the Roman Empire + was the bounce of a rubber nursery ball, compared with this New York + avalanche of luxurious satiation! Now, my child, old Da-da, is going to + become too intoxicated to talk three words to any of these gallants and + their lassies. Grimsby did not write a monologue for me, so I must + pantomime: you will have to carry the speaking part of our playlet. + Flatter them—but don't leave my side to dance!” + </p> + <p> + The first bottle of wine had been carried away by the waiter, (half + emptied it is true,) as he filled a second order. Shirley shielded his + face beneath a drooping spray of artificial blooms from the top of their + wallbower. Several young men were approaching them, and the criminologist + noted with relief that they evidenced their afternoon libations even so + early. Eyes dulled with over-stimulus were the less analytical. Chance was + favoring him. The newcomers were garbed in that debonair and “cultured” + modishness so dear to the hearts of magazine illustrators. Faces, weak + with sunken cheek lines, strong in creases of selfishness, darkened by the + brush strokes of nocturnal excesses and seared, all of them with the brand + mark of inbred rascality, identified them to Shirley as members of that + shrewd class of sycophants who feast on the follies of the more amateurish + moths of the Broadway Candles. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, old pop Grimsby!” + </p> + <p> + “You're in the dark of the moon, Grimmie! I couldn't make you out but for + those horn rimmed head lights.” + </p> + <p> + “Welcome to the joy-parlor, old scout.” + </p> + <p> + The greetings of the juvenile buzzards varied only in phraseology: their + portent was identical: “Open wine.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mr Grimsby is so ill this afternoon, but sit down and have something + with us,” volunteered Helene tremulously. + </p> + <p> + The bees gathered about the table to feast on the vinous honey, while + Shirley, mumbling a few words, maintained his partial obscurity, with one + hand to his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Fine boysh, m'deah. Boysh, meet little Bonbon—my protashsh!” + </p> + <p> + Little Bonbon was a pronounced attraction. Her vivacious charm drew the + eyes away from Shirley, who studied the expressions of the weasel faces + about him. The girl's heart sickened under the brutal frankness of a dozen + calculating eyes, yet she valiantly maintained her part, while Shirley + marveled at her clever simulation of silly, giggly, semi-intoxication. One + youth deserted them to disappear through the distant dining room entrance. + The comments about the table were interesting to the keen-eared + masquerader. + </p> + <p> + “Old Grimsby's picked a live one, this time!”—“What show is she + with?”—“Won't Pinkie be sore?” The criminologist was not left to + wonder as to the identity of “Pinkie,” for an older man, walking behind a + red-headed girl in a luridly modern gown, approached the table with the + absent guest. The men were talking earnestly, the girl staring angrily at + Shirley's, beautiful companion. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, here come's Reggie! Sit down, Reg. Pop has passed away, but his + credit is still strong.” + </p> + <p> + “There's Pinkie—come, my dear, and join the Ladies' Aid Society and + have a lemonade,” jested another youth, making a place for the girl in the + aisle. + </p> + <p> + Pinkie's dark-haired companion sank somewhat unsteadily into a chair next + the girl. He frowned and rubbed his forehead, as though to clear his mind + for needed concentration. He shook Shirley's arm, and spoke sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Look up; Grimmie. I never saw you feel your wine so early in the + afternoon. It was a lucky day for me on Wall Street, so I celebrated + myself. You are here earlier than usual. Everybody have some champagne + with me.” + </p> + <p> + As he beckoned to the waiter, the red-haired girl bestowed a murderous + look upon Helene, who was sniffing some flowers which she had drawn from + the vase on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that Jane?” she demanded, her voice-shaking with jealousy. + “Grimmie, you act as if you were doped. Introduce us to your swell friend. + Wake him, Reg Warren.” + </p> + <p> + Helene's jeweled white hand protected the safety-first dozing of her + companion, as, through the interstices of his fingers, he studied the + inscrutable difference between the face of Warren and the other youths + about them. + </p> + <p> + “Let Pop dream of a new way to make a million!” laughed one young man. + “His money grows while he sleeps.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let him dream on,” laughed Helene, with a shrill giggle. “When he + makes that extra million he can star me on Broadway, in my own show. He, + he!” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to spend half of it at John the Barber's getting your voice + marceled and your face manicured,” snarled Pinkie. “Come, Reg, and dance + with me: these bounders bore me.” + </p> + <p> + “Run along, Pinkie, and fox-trot your grouch away with Shine Taylor. Here + comes the wine I ordered—What's your name, girlie? Where did you + meet Grimsby?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we're old friends,” and Helene maliciously spilled a bottle over the + interrogator's waistcoat, as she reached forward to shake his hand. “My + name's Bonbon, you wouldn't believe me if I told you my real name, anyway. + Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not Neptune,” he retorted, as he mopped the bubbles with a napkin. + “You've started in badly.” Shirley mentally disagreed. His stupor still + obsessed him, but he noted with interest that Warren paid the check for + his bottle with a new one-hundred dollar bill. Warren could elicit nothing + from Helene but silly laughter, and so he arose impatiently, as Shine + Taylor returned to whisper something in his ear. “I must be getting back + to my apartment. Bring Grimsby up to it to-night: a little bromo will + bring him back to the land of the living. I'll have a jolly crowd there—top + floor of the Somerset, on Fifty-sixth Street, you know, near Sixth Avenue. + Come up after the show.” + </p> + <p> + “We're going to the Winter Garden,” suggested Helene, at a nudge from + Shirley, and Warren nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I'll try to see you later, anyway. Goodbye!” + </p> + <p> + Losing interest in the proceedings, as the time for reckoning the bill + approached, the other gallants followed these two. Alone, again, Shirley + ordered some black coffee, and smiled at his assistant. + </p> + <p> + “He told the truth for once.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “He will try to see us later. That man is a member of the murderous clan + whom we seek. 'To-night is the night' for the exit of William Grimsby—but, + perhaps we may have a stage wait which will surprise them.” + </p> + <p> + Gradually the guests thinned out in the tea-room, but Shirley cautiously + waited until the last. + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe these young men are all members of the gang?” asked the + girl. “Why do you suppose these men are all criminals? They surely look a + bad lot.” + </p> + <p> + “There are two general reasons why men go wrong. One is hard luck, aided + by tempting opportunity—they hope to make a success out of failure, + and then keep on the straight path for the rest of their lives. Such men + are the absconders, the forgers, the bank-wreckers, and even the petty + thieves. But once branded with the prison bars and stripes, they seldom + find it possible to turn against the tide in which they find themselves: + so they become habitual offenders. They are the easiest criminals to + detect. The second class are the born crooks, who are lazy, sharp-witted + and without enough will-power to battle against the problems of honesty in + work. It is easy enough to succeed if a man is clever and unscrupulous + without a shred of generosity. The hard problem is to be affectionate, + human, and conquer every-day battles by remaining actively honest, when + your rivals are not straight. The born crook is safer from prison than the + weakling of the first class.” He looked down at the coffee, and then + continued. + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe all these young men are in this curious plot. They are + merely the small fry of the fishing banks: they are petty rascals, with + occasional big game. But somewhere, behind this sinister machine, is a + guiding hand on the throttle, a brain which is profound, an eye which is + all-seeing and a heart as cold as an Antartic mountain. There is the + exceptional type of criminal who is greedy—for money and its + luxurious possibilities; selfish—with regard for no other heart in + the world; crafty—with the cunning of an Apache, enjoying the thrill + of crime and cruelty; refined and vainglorious—with pride in his + skill to thwart justice and confidence in his ability to continually + broaden the scope of his work. Crime is the ruling passion of this unknown + man. And the way to catch him is by using that passion as a bait upon the + hook. I am the wriggling little angle worm who will dangle before his eyes + to-night. But I do not expect to land him—I merely purpose to learn + his identity, to draw the net of the law about him, in such a way as to + keep the Grimsby and Van Cleft names from the case.” + </p> + <p> + “And how can that be done?” + </p> + <p> + “That, young lady, is my 'fatal secret.' The subplot developing within my + mind is still nebulous with me,—you would lose all interest, as + would I, if you knew what was going to happen. But the time has passed, + and now we can go to the theatre. I bought the tickets by messenger this + afternoon. I will let you do the talking to the chauffeur and the usher.” + </p> + <p> + They left the tea-room, the last guests out. + </p> + <p> + It was a touching sight to see the elderly gentleman supported on one side + by a fat French waiter, and on the opposite, by the solicitous girl. The + old Civil War wound was unusually troublesome. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. WHEN IT'S DARK IN THE PARK + </h2> + <p> + At the entrance of the restaurant the starter tooted his shrill whistle, + and a driver began to crank his automobile in the waiting line of cars. + According to the rules of the taxi stands he was next in order. But, as is + frequently the custom in the hotly contested district of “good fares” + another car “cut in” from across the street. This taxi swung quickly + around and drew up before the waiting criminologist. + </p> + <p> + Grunting and mumbling, as though still deep in his cups, Monty allowed + himself to be half pushed, half lifted into the car by the attendant. + Helene followed him. “Winter Garden,” she directed, and the machine sped + away, while the thwarted driver in the rear sent a volley of anathemas + after his successful competitor. + </p> + <p> + Shirley scrutinized the interior of the machine, but there seemed nothing + to distinguish it from the thousands of other piratical craft which + pillage the public with the aid of the taximeter clock on the port beam! + Soon they were at the big Broadway playhouse, where Shirley floundered out + first, after the ungallant manner of many sere-and-yellow beaux. He swayed + unsteadily, teetering on his cane, as Helene leaped lightly to the + sidewalk beside him. The driver stood by the door of the car, leering at + him. + </p> + <p> + “Here, keep the change,” and Shirley handed him a generous bill. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I wait fer ye, gov'nor? I ain't got no call to-night. I'll be + around here all evening.” + </p> + <p> + The criminologist nodded, and the chauffeur handed Helene the carriage + number check. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let 'em steal de old gink, inside, girlie. He's strong fer de + chorus chickens.” + </p> + <p> + Helene shuddered before the hawk-like glare of his malevolent eyes, but in + her part, she shook her head with a laugh, and followed airily after her + escort. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, sir. Back again to-night, I see,” volunteered the ticket + taker, to whom William Grimsby was a familiar visitant. Shirley reeled + with steadied and studied equilibrium, into the foyer of the theatre, as + he nodded. Their seats were purposely in the rear of a side box, well + protected from the audience by the holders of the front positions. The + criminologist appeared to relapse into dreams of bygone days, while his + companion peered into the vast audience and then at the nimble limbed + chorus on the stage with piquant curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “For years I wanted to see an American stage and an American audience,” + she confided in an undertone, “and to think that when I do so, it is + acting myself, on the other side of the footlights in a stranger, more + dramatic part than any one else in the theatre. A curious world, isn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley breathed deeply, drinking in the maddening perfume of her glorious + hair, so perilously near his own face. The shimmer of her shoulders, the + adorable curves of that enticing scarlet mouth murmuring so near his own, + and yet so far away, in this soul-racking game of make-believe, stirred + his blood as nothing else had done in all the kalaediscopic years. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a more than curious world. How things have changed since last + evening when I planned a sleepy evening at the opera. I wonder what the + outcome will be?” + </p> + <p> + Helene looked up at him quickly, then as suddenly toward the Russian + danseuse within the golden frame of the great proscenium. The orchestra, + with its maddening Slavic music, stirred her pulses with a strange + telepathy. The evening wore along, until the final curtain. Shirley, with + cumbersome effort helped her with her cloak, dropping his hat and stick + more than once in simulated awkwardness. The electric numerals of the + carriage call soon brought the grimy-faced chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + “Jack on the spot, gov'nor, that's me!” and he swung the door open. + </p> + <p> + “We'll go get some supper—no, we'll take little 'scursion in Central + Park, first,” and his voice was thick, “correct, cabbie. Drive us shru + Central Park.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to take a chance in a dark park?” Helene asked him, as they + sat within the car, while the chauffeur cranked. Shirley was sharply + observing the man. A pedestrian crossed directly in front of the machine, + brushing against the driver, as he fumbled with the lamp. If there were an + interchange of words, the criminologist could not detect it. + </p> + <p> + “Surely. The park is good. We can be free of interference from the police. + Are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “No—” yet, it was a pardonably weak little voice which uttered the + valiant monosyllable. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Miss Marigold. Take this revolver. Don't use it until you have to, + but then don't hesitate a second.” + </p> + <p> + The machine started slowly up the street. Shirley groped about the sides + and bottom of the car, to make sure that no one could be concealed within + it. They were advancing up Broadway in leisurely fashion. It might have + been for the purpose of allowing some to follow. Shirley wondered, then + sniffed the air suspiciously. The girl looked at him with a silent + question. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, tear off your glove and let me have that diamond ring I noticed on + your finger, the large solitaire, not the dinner ring.” + </p> + <p> + Unquestioningly she obeyed. There was a strange Oriental odor in the car—suggestive + of an incense. The car was gliding up Central Park West, toward one of the + road entrances into the Park proper. Shirley's hand clutched the ring, + tensely. The driver, tactfully looking straight to the front, gave no heed + to the occupants of the Death Car. He was, by this time speeding too + rapidly for either of his passengers to have leaped out without injury. + Shirley understood the smoothness of the voice's system, by now. His hand + slid to the top of the glass door pane, on the right. Down the glass, + across the bottom, down from the other corner, and then over the top line, + he cut with the diamond, using a peculiar pressure. He rose to his feet, + gave the lower part of the pane a sharp tap. The glass, practically cut + loose from its case, now dropped and would have slid out to the roadway + with a crash had he not dexterously caught it, to draw it into the car. + Quickly he repeated the operation with the door pane at the left. A + nauseating, weakening something in the car sent Helene's head spinning; + she choked for breath and lay back weakly, despite her will. Shirley + turned to the small glass square in the rear. This came out more easily. + He lay the glass with the others, on the floor of the car. The good clear + air whirled through the openings, reviving the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your eyes open, and that revolver ready. Now is the time. Pretend to + sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley had drawn his own automatic by this time, and he realized that the + machine was slowing down. The chauffeur, as they passed a walk light, + looked back, observing that the two were apparently unconscious. He slowed + down still more, and tooted his horn three times. A large touring car + passed them, to stop some distance ahead. Then it sped on, as Shirley's + taxi followed lazily. + </p> + <p> + A figure suddenly came out of the darkness of the road. The driver stopped + the taxi, and walked around the front, as though to adjust the lamp. The + door opened slowly. A face covered with a black handkerchief obtruded. A + hand slid up the detective's knee, along his side toward the abdomen, and + a protruding thumb began a singular pressure directly below the + criminologist's heart. Shirley's analysis for Dr. MacDonald had been + correct! But jiu-jitsu is essentially a game for two. + </p> + <p> + Shirley's left hand suddenly shot forth to the neck of his assailant. His + muscular fingers closed in a deft and vice-like pinch directly below the + silk handkerchief. It was the pneumogastric nerve, which he reached: a + nerve which, when deadened by Oriental skill, paralyzes the vocal chords. + Not a sound emanated from the mysterious man, even when Shirley's right + hand shot forward, under the chin of the other, for a deft blow across the + thorax. The other tumbled backward. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong, Chief? Too much gas?” cried the chauffeur rushing to the + side of the fallen man. As the driver dropped to his knees, Shirley flung + himself like a tiger upon the rascal's back. The struggle was brief—the + same silent silencer accomplished its purpose. Before the man knew what + had happened to him, he was dragged inside the car, and another deft pinch + sent him to oblivion! + </p> + <p> + “Hit him over the forehead with the butt of the revolver if he opens his + mouth,” grunted Shirley. “This is the chauffeur, now I'll get the other + one.” + </p> + <p> + Just then a cry came from the darkness: it was a passing patrolman. + </p> + <p> + “What you doing in that auto?” + </p> + <p> + But Shirley waited for no parley-explanations, showing his hand, laying + the whole scandal before the morning edition of the newspapers, were all + out of question now. He must take up the pursuit later. He caught up, the + chauffeur's cap, sprang into the driver's seat, and the car shot forward + like a race horse as he threw forward the lever. The astonished policeman + was within twenty-five yards of the spot, when the auto disappeared in the + darkness. He pursued it vainly. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later, a man with a handkerchief across his face, groaned + and then raised himself on his elbow, there in the roadway. He could not + remember where he was, nor why. Slowly he crawled on hands and knees, into + the rhododendrons by the roadside, where he again lost consciousness. + </p> + <p> + A big touring car rounded the curve of the roadway. + </p> + <p> + “Not a sign of the Chief,” said the driver. “He must have gone back to the + garage with the Monk. But that's a fool idea. Let's get down there right + away.” + </p> + <p> + The injured man's memory returned, and he rose stiffly to his feet. He + limped out of the Park, putting away the handkerchief, muttering profanity + and trying to fathom the mystery. As nearly as he could reason it out, he + must have been struck by another machine from the rear. + </p> + <p> + Far up in the northernmost driveway of the Park, where shrub grown banks + and rocky uplands shelter the thoroughfares, Shirley stopped his runaway + taxicab. + </p> + <p> + “Let me have his rubber coat, for I'm going to hide this car out on Long + Island. It's a long ride, but this man and his machine will disappear as + completely as though they had been dumped in the ocean.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley manacled the prisoner, and gagged him with a tightly knotted + handkerchief. He put the greatcoat of Grimsby's about Helene's shoulders, + as he brought her to the front seat of the machine. Then he shut the doors + on the prisoner, and drove the automobile out through the Easterly + entrance of the park. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not really brave, Mr. Montague,” said the tired voice at his side. + “I'm so glad I'm sitting by you, instead of back inside. We will be home + soon, won't we? I'm so exhausted—my first day in a strange country, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley, with the skill of a racing expert, guided the machine through the + maze of streets toward the Bridge over the East River. The touch of that + sweet shoulder, as it unconsciously nestled against his own, sent through + him a tremor which he had not experienced during the weird silent battle + in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “A strange night, in a strange country. Are you sorry you tried it?” + </p> + <p> + With a sidelong glance, he caught the starry light in her eyes as she + looked up at him: there seemed more than the mere reflection of passing + street lamps. + </p> + <p> + “A wonderful night: I'm glad, so glad, not sorry,” was her dreamy + response. She lapsed into silence as the somnolent drone of the motor and + the whirr of the wheels caused the tired eyes to close sleepily. + </p> + <p> + When he looked at her again, as they were speeding down the bridge Plaza + in Long Island City, she was dozing. The drowsy head touched his shoulder; + she seemed like a child, worn out with games, trustingly asleep in the + care of a big, strong brother. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. A TURN IN THE TRAIL + </h2> + <p> + Helene was still asleep when Shirley stopped the engine of the taxi before + a stately Colonial mansion seated back among the pines of a beautiful Long + Island estate. They had been driving for more than an hour. The girl + stirred languorously as he strove to awaken her. She murmured drowsily: + </p> + <p> + “No, Jack, dear. Emphatically no. Let's not talk about it any more, dear + boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Who can Jack be?” and a surprising pang shot through Montague Shirley's + heart. “Jack, dear! Well, and what's it my business. She is a stranger. + She lives her life and I mine. But, at any rate, that settles some silly + things I've been thinking. I'm less awake than she is.” + </p> + <p> + This time he tried with better success, and Helene rubbed her eyes, with + hands stiffened by the brisk bite of the chill wind. She gazed at the + dimly lit house, at the big figure beside her, as Shirley sprang to the + ground—then remembered it all, and trembled despite herself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you, Mr. Shirley,” and she summoned up a little throaty laugh, + as she arose stiffly. “What a queer place to be in!” + </p> + <p> + “We are a long way from New York's white lights, Miss Marigold. This is + the country home of a good old friend of mine. You can remain here for the + rest of the night, as his wife's guest. To-morrow, when you are rested, he + can send you to the city in one of his cars.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the most curious man in two continents. I am bewildered. First, + you kidnap a chauffeur and privateer his car, then me. Now you besiege a + friend and wish to leave me on his doorstep as a foundling.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry—it's the exigency of war! We must finish what we started. + This is the only place I know where I could thoroughly hide my trail. We + must wake up Jim, but first I will have a look at our guest.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley walked around the car, shooting the beam from his pocket + flashlight in through the open window of the taxi, to be met by the wicked + black eyes of his prisoner, who uttered volumes of unpronounceable hatred. + </p> + <p> + “You are still with us, little bright eyes. A pleasant trip, I trust? I + hope you found the air good—I tried to improve the ventilation for + your benefit, as well as my own.” Only a subdued gurgle answered him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what will they think of me—in this immodest gown, with this + paint on my face, and at this hour of night?” pleaded Helene, as he + started toward the door of the mansion. + </p> + <p> + “It would be awful at that,” and Shirley paused at the beseeching tone of + the girl. “I want you to meet Mrs. Jim as well as Jim. I am afraid they + would think this was the echo of an old college escapade, and misjudge + you. Let me think—” + </p> + <p> + He led her to a little summer-house close by, and tucked the big coat + about her as he added: “It's dark here—the wind doesn't reach you, + and I'll take you back to town in five minutes. Will that do?” + </p> + <p> + As she nodded, he hurried to the door where he yanked vigorously at the + bell. An angry head protruded from an upper story, after many encores of + the peals. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, what the dickens? Go some place else and find out!” + </p> + <p> + “Jim, Jim. It's Monty! Come down and let me in quick.” + </p> + <p> + The window closed with a bang as the head was withdrawn, while a light + soon appeared in the beveled panes of the big front door. + </p> + <p> + “You poor boob,” was the cheerful greeting as it swung wide, “What brings + you out here? I thought it was the usual joy party which had lost its way. + They always pick me out for an information bureau. Come on in!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley spoke rapidly, in a low tone. The girl in the dark summer-house + marveled at the rapid change of mien, as Jim suddenly ran down the steps + to gaze into the taxicab, then nodding to Shirley. The house-holder as + promptly returned through his front door, while Shirley swiftly unmanacled + the prisoner enough to let him walk, stiff and awkward from the long + ordeal in the car. The stern grip, of his captor prompted obedience. + </p> + <p> + Friend Jim had appeared with warmer garments, carrying a lantern. At the + door of the stable Jim's stentorian yell to the groom seemed useless, but + the two men entered. Helene felt miserably weak and deserted, in the chill + night, but she was cheered by seeing the energetic Shirley reappear, + pushing open the doors of the garage, which was connected with the stable. + He hurried to the deserted taxicab, where he seemed busied for several + minutes, the glow of his pocket lamp shooting out now and then. Through + the door of the garage a long, rakish-looking racing car was being pushed + out by Jim and his sleepy groom. There was a cheery shout from the taxi, + and Helene heard a ripping sound. Shirley reappeared, carrying an oblong + box. + </p> + <p> + “I have the gas generator:—it was built in, under the seat, and + controlled by a battery wire from the front lamp, Jim. A nice little + mechanism. Well, old pal, please apologize to Mrs. Merrivale for my rude + interruption of her beauty sleep. Keep a fatherly eye on Gentleman Mike, + and the taxicab under cover. I'll communicate with you very soon. So + long.” + </p> + <p> + To Helene's amazement, Shirley cranked the racer, jumped in and seemed to + be starting away without her, down the sweep of the driveway. Could he + have forgotten her? The man must indeed be mad, as some of his actions + indicated! But her aroused indignation was turned to admiration of his + finesse, for suddenly he veered the lights of the car toward the garage + door, throwing them in the faces of Jim and his servant. He leaped out + again, walking past the place of concealment. + </p> + <p> + “Slip into the car, while I go inside with them. I'll come out on the run, + and no one will be the wiser.” + </p> + <p> + With this passing stage direction he rushed toward his accomodating + friend, with some final directions. They were apparently humorous in + content, for both the other men roared with mirth, as he walked inside the + building, with them, an arm around the shoulder of each. Helene obeyed + him, hiding as best she could in the low seat of the throbbing machine. As + Shirley returned, Jim Merrivale was still laughing blithely. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, you old maniac: you'll be the death of me. I'll take care of + the star boarder, however, and feed him champagne and mushrooms.” + </p> + <p> + With a roar, Shirley started the engines, as he bounced into the seat, and + they sped down the curving driveway, with Helene leaning forward, + unobserved. + </p> + <p> + “There, we've had a little by-play that friend Jim didn't guess. I always + enjoy a little intrigue,” he laughed, as they whizzed along toward distant + New York. “But, I had to lie, and lie, and lie—like the light that + lies in women's eyes. What a jolly game!” + </p> + <p> + He was a big boy, happy in the excitement, and bubbling with his + superabundance of vitality. Helene felt curiously drawn toward him, in + this mood: she remembered a little paragraph she had read in a book that + day: + </p> + <p> + “A woman loves a man for the boy spirit that she discovers in him: she + loves him out of pity when it dies!” Then she fearsomely changed the + current of her thoughts, to complain pathetically of the cold wind! + </p> + <p> + “There, now, I am so thoughtless,” was his apology, as he stopped the car, + to wrap the overcoat more closely about her, and tuck her comfortably in a + big fur. Through the darkened streets of the suburb they raced, entering + the silent factory districts, which presaged the nearness of the river. It + was well on toward daybreak before they rolled over the Queensboro Bridge + to Manhattan. It was his second day without sleep, but Shirley was + sustained by the bizarre nature of the exploit: he could have kept at the + steering wheel for an eternity. + </p> + <p> + “Are you glad we're getting back?” he asked. Helene shook her head, then + she answered dreamily. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember something from one of Browning's poems, that I do? It's + just silly for us, but I understand it better now.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley surprised her by quoting it, as he looked ahead into the dark + street through which they swung, his unswerving hand steady on the wheel: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What if we still ride on, we two, + With life forever old yet new, + Changed not in kind, but in degree, + The instant made eternity,— + And heaven just prove that I and she + Ride, ride together, forever ride?” + </pre> + <p> + A quick flush, not caused by the biting wind, suffused her cheek beneath + the remnants of the rouge. Then she laughed up at him appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “Curious how our minds ran that way, and hit the very same poem, wasn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley smiled back, as he swung down Fifth Avenue. + </p> + <p> + “Not so curious after all!” + </p> + <p> + Soon they drew up before the ornate portal of the California Hotel, where + late arrivals were so customary as to cause no comment. He bade her + good-night, words seeming futile after their long hours together. The + drive in the car to the club was short. Paddy the door man was instructed + to send down to Shirley's own garage for a mechanic to store the car until + further orders. The criminologist had ere this rubbed off his grease + paint, so that his appearance was not unusual. Once in his rooms he + treated himself to a piping hot shower, cleaned off the powder from his + dark locks, and as he smoked a soothing cigarette, in his bathrobe, + studied the mechanism of the gas generator for a few moments. + </p> + <p> + “That was made by an expert who understands infernal machines with a + malevolent genius. I must look out for him,” he mused. “Well, I promised + Professor MacDonald that I would not sleep until I had come face to face + with the voice. I have fulfilled the vow: now for forgetfulness.” + </p> + <p> + He tumbled into bed, but not to oblivion. For his dreams were disturbed by + tantalizing visions of certain sun-gold locks and blue eyes not at all in + their simple connection with the business end of the Van Cleft mystery. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE HAND OF THE VOICE + </h2> + <p> + It took stoicism to the Nth degree for Shirley to respond to the early + telephone call next morning, from the clerk of the club. A few minutes of + violent exercise, in the hand ball court, the plunge, a short swim in the + natatorium and a rub down from the Swedish masseur, however, brought him + around to the mood for another adventure. Sending for the racing car he + began the round-up of details. There was, first of all, Captain Cronin to + be visited in Bellevue. Here he was agreeably surprised to find the + detective chief recuperating with the abettance of his rugged Celtic + physique. The nurse told Shirley that another day's treatment would allow + the Captain to return to his own home: Shirley knew this meant the + executive office of the Holland Detective Agency. + </p> + <p> + “And sure, Monty, when I have a free foot once again, I'm going to apply + it to them gangsters who put me to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I want you to do, Captain! I 'phoned to your men this morning + while I had breakfast at the club: they have that taxicab which was left + near Van Cleft's house. It's put away safely, Cleary said. There are two + gangsters where the dogs won't bite them; today they are sending out to + Jim Merrivale's house to get the third and he'll be busy with a little + private third degree. I have no evidence which would connect the man who + tried to kill me last night with the other murders, except in a + circumstantial way. What I must do is to follow up the trail, and get the + gentleman carrying out the bales, in other words, with the goods on him.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll get him, Monty, if I know you. The fellow hasn't called up at all + on the telephone to-day. I think he's afraid of you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Captain Cronin, not that! He's up to some new game. Well, I'm off—take + care of yourself and don't eat anything the nurse doesn't bring you with + her own hands. I wouldn't put anything past this gang.” + </p> + <p> + He shook hands and hurried out of the hospital, with several more errands + to complete. He looked vainly about him for the gray racing-car. It was + gone! Here was another unexpected interference with his work, and Shirley, + sotto voce, expressed himself more practically than politely. He hurried + to an ambulance driver who stood in a doorway, solacing his jangled nerves + with a corn-cob smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Neighbor, did you see any one take the gray car standing here a few + minutes ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep, a feller just came out of the hospital entry, cranked her and jumped + in.” + </p> + <p> + “How long ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I just returned with a suicide actor case five minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you might have seen him enter first?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. Not a sign. All I seen was the way he cranked the machine, and he + didn't waste any elbow grease doin' it, either. He knew the trick. That's + what I thought when I seen him, even if he did look like a dude.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley hurried to the entry once more. This was the only portal through + which visitors were admitted to the hospital for the purpose of calling on + patients. He hastened to the uniformed attendant who took down the names + of all applicants. This man, upon inquiry, was a trifle dubious. True, + there had been two Italian women and before them—yes, there had been + a young chap with a green velour hat, and white spats. He had asked about + a Captain Cronin, and when told that a visitor was already seeing the + patient, agreed to wait outside. It had been about five minutes before. + The man was indefinite about more details. Shirley hurried to the + telephone booth in the corridor. To Headquarters he reported the theft of + car “99835 N.Y.,” giving a description of its special features and its + make. This warning he knew would be telephoned to all stations within five + minutes, so that every policeman in New York would be on the lookout for + the missing machine. Satisfied, he left the hospital, to walk across the + long block to the nearest north and south avenue, where he might catch a + surface car. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he halted, to mutter in astonishment at a sight which was the + surprise of the morning: it was the missing car standing peacefully on the + next corner. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what that means?” he murmured, as he stopped to study with great + interest the window of an Italian green grocer. A sidelong glance at the + car and its surroundings revealed nothing out of the way. He retraced his + steps to the hospital, wasted ten minutes with a cigarette or two, and + still no one seemed to take an interest in the automobile. Finally he + walked up to the car, trying the lock of which he had the only key. + Apparently it had been untampered with, for the key worked perfectly. Here + was Jim Merrivale's car, a good three hundred yards away from the place + where he had locked it to prevent any moving. He felt certain that keen + eyes had him under surveillance, yet he could not observe any observers + within the range of his own vision. It was simply a stupid, quiet slum + neighborhood and at the time, unusually deserted by the customary hordes + of children and dogs! + </p> + <p> + What had been the purpose in moving it such a short distance? + </p> + <p> + Where had it been in the twenty-five minutes since he had left it at the + entrance to the hospital? + </p> + <p> + Why had it been left here, of all places, where he would naturally walk if + desirous of taking a street-car? + </p> + <p> + There seemed no immediate answer to the conundrums. So, he nonchalantly + clambered into the car, after cranking it. The mechanism seemed in perfect + order. Puzzled, he started to speed up the street, when he observed a + white envelope close by his foot, on the floor of the car. + </p> + <p> + He picked it up, and tearing it open quickly read this simple message. + </p> + <p> + “To whom it may concern: It is frequently advisable to mind your own + business—is it not? Answer: Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Huh,” grunted Shirley. “While not thrilling in originality, it is a + lasting truth which nobody can deny. I'll save this and frame it on the + walls of my rooms.” + </p> + <p> + As he drove around the corner and up the Avenue, there was suddenly a + terrific explosion, which threw him completely out of the machine! The + car, without a driver, its engines whirring madly, dashed into a helpless + corner fruit stand, scattering oranges, bananas, apples and desolation in + its wake, as it vainly endeavored to climb to the second story with + super-mechanical intelligence! Shirley, stunned and bruised, fell to the + pavement where he lay until an excited patrolman rushed to his rescue. + </p> + <p> + A little “first aid” work brought Shirley back to consciousness, and he + stiffly rose to his feet, with a head throbbing too much for any real + thinking. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with your auto?” cried the policeman. “Can't you run + it? Let's see the number.” The officer took out his notebook, to jot down + the details according to police rules. Then he turned on Shirley in + amazement. “Be gorry, it's car 99835 N.Y. I just wrote the number down + when I came on post with my squad! This car is stolen. You come with me!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley had been adjusting the mechanism, and the wheels had ceased their + whirring. He tried to expostulate in a dazed way, realizing that for once + the department was working with a vengeful promptness. He was hoist by his + own petard! + </p> + <p> + “I'm the owner of the car,” he began, rubbing his aching forehead. + </p> + <p> + “What's yer name?” + </p> + <p> + “Montague Shirley!” The policeman laughed, as he caught the criminologist + by the shoulder, and blew his whistle for another man from post duty. + </p> + <p> + “You lie. This car is owned by James Merrivale. You can't put over raw + stuff like that on me. I'm no rookie—Here, Joe,” (as the other + policeman ran up through the growing, jeering crowd,) “watch this machine. + This guy's one of them auto Raffles, and I done a good job when I lands + him. I'm going to the station-house now.” + </p> + <p> + The other policeman was examining the car, when he called to his fellow + officer: “Here, Sim, did you see this car was blown up inside the seat?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley, his acuteness returned by this time, ran to the car eluding his + captor's hold. He had not observed before the jagged shattered hole torn + in the side of the leather side. It had all happened so swiftly, that his + professional instincts were slow in reasserting themselves after the + “buck” of the car. + </p> + <p> + “You're right,” he exclaimed. “There's an alarm clock and a dry battery—the + same man made this who built the gas-generator—” + </p> + <p> + “Whadd'ye mean—ain't you the feller after all?” asked the first + patrolman, beginning to get dubious about his arrest. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am no thief. But just take me to the station-house quick, and turn + in your report. Let this other man guard that car. Hurry up!” + </p> + <p> + “Say, feller, who do you think is making this arrest? You'll go to the + station-house when I get ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're ready now,” snapped the criminologist. “You'll see me + discharged very promptly, when I speak to the Commissioner over the wire.” + </p> + <p> + The officer was supercilious until the station-house was reached. He had + heard this blatant talk before. What was his surprise when Shirley + telephoned to the head of the Department and then called the Captain to + the instrument. + </p> + <p> + “Release Mr. Shirley at once,” was the crisp order. “Give him any men or + assistance he needs.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, whadd'ye know about that? Not even entered on the blotter to credit + me with a good arrest!” The patrolman turned away in disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want any of the reserves, sir?” The Captain was scrupulously + polite. + </p> + <p> + “Not one. I'm going to study that machine again. You might detail a plain + clothes man to walk along the other side of the street for luck. + Good-day.” + </p> + <p> + The automobile to which he returned was still the object of community + interest. Shirley took the remains of the bomb which had caused his sudden + elevation. The policeman approached him from the fruit store. + </p> + <p> + “The man wants damages for the stock you destroyed, mister. I'll fix it up + with him if you want—about twenty-five dollars will do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, hand him this five-dollar bill and see if that won't dry some of + the imported tears,” retorted Shirley with a laugh. In a few minutes he + was bowling along on a surface car, to the club. There was no longer any + use in trying to hide his identity or address, for the conspirators knew + at least of his interest and assistance in the case: although in this as + all others he was not known to be a professional sleuth. + </p> + <p> + In the quiet of his room he drew out magnifying glasses and other + instruments for a thorough analysis of the remains of the infernal + machine. He compared this with the mechanism of the gas-generator which + had been placed in the seat of the Death taxi. There was evidence that it + had come from the same source. Shirley sniffed at the generator and the + peculiar odor still clinging to it was familiar. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think I will have a little surprise for Mr. Voice, the next time + we grapple, which will be an encore of his own tune, with a new verse!” + </p> + <p> + He went to a cabinet, took out a small glass vial, filled with a limpid + liquid and placed it within his own pocket. Then he prepared for a new + line of activities for the day. His first duty was a call on Pat Cleary, + superintendent of the Holland Agency. + </p> + <p> + “The Captain is progressing splendidly,” was his answer to the anxious + query. “He will be back in the harness again to-morrow. How are the + prisoners?” + </p> + <p> + “They have tried to break out twice and gave my doorman a black eye. But + they got four in return: Nick is no mollycoddle, you know. I can't quite + get the number of these fellows, for they are not registered down at + Headquarters, in the Rogue's Gallery. Their finger-prints are new ones in + this district, too. They look like imported birds, Mr. Shirley. What do + you think?” + </p> + <p> + Cleary's opinion of the club man had been gaining in ascendency. + </p> + <p> + “They may be visitors from another city, but I think the state will keep + them here as guests for a nice long time, Cleary. They say New York is + inhospitable to strangers, but we occasionally pay for board and room from + the funds of the taxpayers without a kick. We saved the day for the Van + Clefts, all right. The paper told of a beautiful but quiet funeral + ceremony, while the daughter has postponed her marriage for six months.” + </p> + <p> + Then he recounted the adventure of the exploding car. Cleary lit his + malodorous pipe, and shook his head thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Young man, you know your own affairs best. But with all your money, you'd + better take to the tall pines yourself, like these old guys in the + 'Lobster Club.' That's the advice of a man who's in the business for money + not glory. This is a bum game. They'll get me some day, some of these + yeggs or bunk artists that I've sent away for recuperation, as the doctors + call it. But I'm doing it for bread and beefsteak, while it lasts. You run + along and play—a good way from the fire, or you'll get more than + your fingers burnt. Take their hint and beat it while the beating's good.” + </p> + <p> + A glint of steel shone from the eyes of the criminologist as he lit + another cigarette and took up his walking-stick. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Cleary, this is what I call real sport. Why go hunting polar bears + and tigers when we've got all this human game around the Gold Coast of + Manhattan? I'm tired of furs: I want a few scalps. Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + As Cleary went up the stairway to renew the ginger of the Third Degree for + the two prisoners, he smiled to himself, and muttered: + </p> + <p> + “The guy ain't such a boob as he looks: he's just a high-class nut. I'd + enjoy it myself if it wasn't my regular work.” + </p> + <p> + At Dick Holloway's office Shirley was greeted with an eager demand for his + report of the former evening's activities. An envious look was on the face + of the theatrical manager. + </p> + <p> + “Shucks, Monty! It's a shame that all this sport is private stock, and + can't be bottled up and peddled to the public, for they're just crazy + about gangster melodrama. They're paying opera prices for the old time + ten-twent-and-thirt-melodrama, right on Broadway. Hurry up and get the man + and I'll have him dramatized while the craze is rampant.” + </p> + <p> + “Not while I own the copyright,” retorted Shirley, “this is one of the + chapters of my life that isn't going to be typewritten, much less the + subject of gate-receipts.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so certain of that,” and Holloway's smile was quizzical. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Who is this Helene Marigold? I have a right to know in + a case like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Good intuition, as far as you go. But you're guessing wrong, for she has + nothing to do with my little joke. But why worry about her?” laughed + Holloway. His friend had leaned forward, intensely, clutching his cane, + with an unusually serious look on his face. Holloway had never seen + Shirley take such an interest in any woman before. He arose from his + desk-chair and walked to the broad window, which overlooked the thronging + sidewalks of Broadway. + </p> + <p> + “Down there is the biggest, busiest street in the world filled with women + of all hues and shades. This is the first time you ever looked so anxious + about any combination of lace, curls, silks and gew-gaws before. You have + been the bright and shining example of indifferent bachelor freedom which + has made me—thrice divorced—so envious of your unalloyed, + unalimonied joy. Don't betray the feet of clay which have supported my + idol!” + </p> + <p> + The baffling smile of the debonair club man returned to Shirley's face, as + he twitted back: “Purely an altruistic inquiry, Dick. I feared that you + might be risking your own heart and the modicum of freedom which you still + possess. But I'll wager a supper-party for four that I'll find out who she + is, without either you or she telling me.” + </p> + <p> + “Taken. At last I'm to have a free banquet, after years of business + entertaining. You have met a girl who will match your wits—I expect + the sparks to fly. Well, she's worth while—I might do worse—but + in perfect fairness she ought to do better. How about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, with Jack,” and Shirley tapped the walking stick on the floor with + an emphatic thump, while Holloway regarded him in startled surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Who is Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “You see—I am learning already. But, you and I are drifting from my + task. I wish that you would take me to call on Miss Marigold, in my + present lack of disguise. I do not care for that ancient garb any longer. + It was stretching the chances rather far, but thanks to the darkness, the + champagne, and good fortune, I succeeded in impersonating our aged friend + without detection. I will not return to Grimsby's house, but propose now + to get down to brass tacks with Mr. Voice, even though the tacks be hard + to sit upon. I wish to use her as a bait, by taking her out to tea and + getting a first-hand speaking acquaintance with these convivial + assassins.” + </p> + <p> + “Monty, you are wasting your talents outside the pages of a play + manuscript, but we will make that call instanter.” + </p> + <p> + In leisure, they promenaded up the crowded Gay Wide Way, through the + noontime crowd of theatrical folk who dot the thoroughfare in this part of + the city. His adversaries were to have every opportunity to observe his + movements and draw their own conclusions. At the Hotel California new + comment buzzed between the garrulous clerk and the switchboard person, at + sight of the well-known manager and his prosperous-looking companion. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that come on?” asked the clerk of the bellboy. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, dat's Montague Shirley, one of dem rich ginks from de College Club + on Forty-fourth Street, where I used to woik in de check room. If I had + dat guy's money I'd buy a hotel like dis.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I see where Holloway, with that blonde dame upstairs, will be + putting on a new musical show, with a new angel. It's a great business, + Miss Gwendolyn—no wonder they call it art.” And the clerk removed a + silk handkerchief from his coat cuff, to dust the register wistfully. “Why + didn't I devote my talents to the drama instead of room-keys and + due-bills?” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Gwendolyn was too busy talking to the Milwaukee drummer in Room + 72 to formulate a logical reason. Shirley and Holloway improved the time + by taking the elevator to the top floor where Helene greeted them at the + door of her pretty apartment. She welcomed them happily, declaring it had + been a lonesome morning. + </p> + <p> + “Weren't you resting from that long thrill of last night, in which you + starred?” asked Holloway. + </p> + <p> + “It was too thrilling for me to sleep: I know I look a perfect frump, this + morning. I tossed on the pillow, watching the dawn over your towering New + York roofs, so nervous and almost miserable. But, with company, it's all + right again.” + </p> + <p> + Holloway laughed inwardly at the warmth of the glance which she bestowed + upon Shirley. From the angle of an audience, he was beginning to observe a + phase of this double play of personalities which was unseen by either of + the participants. Two sleepless nights, after such a first evening + together, and what then? He imagined the denouement, with a growing + enjoyment of his vantage-point as the game advanced. + </p> + <p> + “To-day, I am reversing the usual progress of history,” said Shirley, as + he sat down in the window-seat. “From second juvenility I am returning to + the first. In other words, I wish to become your adoring suitor in the + role of Montague Shirley.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand,” and her eyes widened in wonder, not without an + accompanying blush which did not escape Holloway. + </p> + <p> + “No longer a lamb in sheep's clothing, I want to entertain you, without + the halo of William Grimsby's millions. I want to take tea with these + gentle-voiced cut-throats, who after my warning to-day, are directing + their attention to me.” He narrated the narrow escape from death in the + racing-car. Helene's eyes darkened with an uncertainty which he had hardly + expected. Perhaps she would refuse to carry out their compact along these + dangerous lines. + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel it wise to place yourself beneath this new menace?” + </p> + <p> + “The sword of Damocles is over me now, I know. To run would be a + confession of weakness and open the field for his further activities, with + the rear-guard continuously exposed. There is nothing like the personal + equation. I will call at five this afternoon, if you are willing, Miss + Marigold?” + </p> + <p> + “I will fight it out to the end,” and she placed her warm hand firmly + within his own. The two friends departed, Shirley retracing his steps to + the club where many things were to be studied and planned. His system of + debit and credit records of facts known and needed, was one which brought + finite results. As he smoked and pondered at his ease, a tapping on the + study door aroused him from his vagrant speculations. At his call, a + respectful Japanese servant presented a note, just left by a + messenger-boy. He tore the envelope and read it. + </p> + <p> + “Montague Shirley:—The third time is finis. As a friend you + accomplished the purpose you sought. There is no grudge against you. Why + seek one? It is fatal for you to remain in the city. Leave while you have + time.” + </p> + <p> + That was all. The chirography was the same as that upon the note of the + racing-car episode. Shirley locked up the missive in his cabinet, and + smiled at the increasing tenseness of the situation. + </p> + <p> + “The writer of these two notes may have an opportunity to leave town + himself before long, to rest his nerves in the quiet valley of the Hudson, + at Ossining. My friend the enemy will soon be realizing a deficit in his + rolling-stock and gentlemanly assistants. Two automobiles and three + prisoners to date. There should be additional results before midnight. I + wonder where he gardens into fruition these flowers of crime?” + </p> + <p> + And even as he pondered, a curious scene was being enacted within a dozen + city blocks of the commodious club house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE SPIDER'S WEB + </h2> + <p> + The setting was a bleak and musty cellar, beneath an old stable of dingy, + brick construction. The building had been modernized to the extent of one + single decoration on the street front, an electric sign: “Garage.” On the + floor, level with the sidewalk, stood half a dozen automobiles of varied + manufacture and age. Near the wide swinging doors of oak, stood a big, + black limousine. Two taxicabs of the usual appearance occupied the space + next to this, while a handsome machine faced them on the opposite side of + the room. Two ancient machines were backed against the wall, in the rear. + </p> + <p> + In the basement beneath, several men were grouped in the front + compartment, which was separated by a thick wooden partition from the rear + of the cellar. Three dusty incandescents illuminated this space. In the + back a curious arrangement of two large automobile headlights set on deal + tables directed glaring rays toward the one door of the partition. In the + center of the rear room was another table, standing behind a screen of + wire gauze, at the bottom of which was cut a small semicircle, large + enough for the protrusion of a white, tense hand, whose fingers were even + now spasmodically clenching in nervous indication of fury. Behind either + lamp was a heavy black screen, which effectually shut off ingress to that + portion of the room. + </p> + <p> + The man standing between the table and the closed door of the partition, + full in the light of the lamps, watched the hand as though fascinated. He + could see nothing else, for behind the gauze all was darkness. Absolutely + invisible, sat the possessor of the hand, observing the face of his + interviewer, on the brighter side of the gauze. + </p> + <p> + “So, there's no word from the Monk?” + </p> + <p> + “No, chief. De bloke's disappeared. Either he got so much swag offen dis + old Grimsby guy, after youse got de bumps, or he had cold feet and beat it + wid de machine.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a crooked game on me.” rasped the voice behind the screen. “I'll + send him up for this. You know how far my lines go out. What about Dutch + Jake and Ben the Bite?” + </p> + <p> + The man before the screen shook his head in helpless bewilderment There + was a suggestion of fright in his manner, as well. + </p> + <p> + “Can't find out a t'ing, gov'nor. I hopes you don't blame me for dis. I'm + doin' my share. Dey just disappears dat night w'en you sends 'em to + shadder Van Cleft's joint. My calcerlation is—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not paying you to calculate. I've trusted you and lost six thousand + dollars' worth of automobiles for my pains. You can just calculate this, + that unless I get some news about Jake, Ben and the Monk by this time + tomorrow, I'll send some news down to Police headquarters on Lafayette + Street that will make you wish you had never been born.” + </p> + <p> + For some reason not difficult to guess, the suggestion had a galvanic + effect on the bewildered one. His hands trembled as he raised them + imploringly to the screen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, gov'nor, wot have I done? Ain't I been on de level wid yez? Say, I + ain't never even seen yez for de fourteen months I've been yer gobetween. + I've been beat up by de cops, pinched and sent to de workhouse 'cause I + wouldn't squeal, and now ye t'reatens me. Did I ever fall down on a trick + ontil dis week? You'se ain't goin' ter welch on me, are you'se? I ain't no + welcher meself, an' ye knows it.” + </p> + <p> + The other snapped out curtly: “Very well, cut out the sob stuff. It's up + to you to prove that there hasn't been a leak somewhere or a double cross. + Send in those rummies,—I want to give them the once over again. + There's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, and I'm no abolitionist! Quick + now. Get a wiggle on.” + </p> + <p> + The hand was withdrawn from the little opening, as the lieutenant advanced + into the front compartment of the cellar. He beckoned meaningly to the + others to follow him. They obeyed with a slinking walk, which showed that + they were obsessed by some great dread, in that unseen presence, in the + heart of the spider-web! + </p> + <p> + “Which one of you is the stool pigeon,” came the harsh query. + </p> + <p> + “W'y, gov'nor, none of us. You'se knows us,” whined one of the men. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I know enough to send you all to Atlanta or Sing Sing or + Danamora, for the rest of your rotten lives, if I want to.” + </p> + <p> + The rascals stared vainly into the black vacuum of the screen, blinking in + the glaring lights, cowering instinctively before the unseen but certain + malignancy of the power behind that mysterious wall. + </p> + <p> + “I brought you here to New York,” continued the master, “you are making + more money with less work and risk than ever before. But you're playing + false with me, and I know some one is slipping information where it + oughtn't to go. I'm going to skin alive the one who I catch. There's one + eye that never sleeps, don't forget that.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee, boss, wot do we know to slip?” advanced the most forward of them. + “We follers orders, and gets our kale and dat's all. We ain't never even + seen ya, and don't know even wot de whole game is. Don't queer us, + gov'nor!” + </p> + <p> + “Go out front again, and shut off this blab. I warn you that's all-Now, + Phil, give this to the men. Tell them to keep off the cocaine—they're + getting to be a lot of bone heads lately. Too much dope will spoil the + best crook in the world.” + </p> + <p> + The white hand passed out a roll of crisp, new currency to the lieutenant + of the gang, who gingerly reached for it, as though he expected the + tapering fingers to claw him. + </p> + <p> + “Fifty dollars to each man. No holding out. Remember, every one of them is + spying on the other to me. I'm not a Rip Van Winkle. Now, I want you to + keep this fellow Montague Shirley covered but don't put him away until I + give you the word. Send the bunch upstairs, for I don't want to be + disturbed the next two hours. And just keep off the coke yourself. You're + scratching your face a good deal these days—I know the signs.” + </p> + <p> + Phil expostulated nervously. “Oh, gov'nor, I ain't no fiend—just + once and a while I gets a little rummy, and brightens up. It takes too + much money to git it now, anyway. Goodbye, chief.” + </p> + <p> + As he closed the wooden door to pay the gangsters, there was a slight + grating noise, which followed a double click. A bar of wood automatically + slid down into position behind the door, blocking a possible opening from + the front of the cellar. The lights suddenly were darkened. The sound of + shuffling feet would have indicated to a listener that the owner of the + nervous hand was retreating to the rear of the darkened den. A noise + resembling that of the turn of a rusty hinge might have then been heard: + there was a metallic clang, the rattle of a sliding chain and the rear + room was as empty as it was black! + </p> + <p> + In the front room, after payment from the red-headed ruffian, Phil, the + men clambered in single file up a wooden ladder to the street level. A + trap-door was put into place and closed. Then the men began to shoot + “craps” for a readjustment of the spoils, with the result that Red Phil, + as his henchmen called him, was the smiling possessor of most of the + money, without the erstwhile necessity of “holding out.” + </p> + <p> + Then the gangsters scattered to the nearby gin-shops to while away the + time before darkness should call for their evil activities. It was a + cheerful little assortment of desperadoes, yet in appearance they did not + differ from most of the habitues of New York garages, those cesspools of + urban criminality. + </p> + <p> + From his club, Shirley telephoned Jim Merrivale in his downtown office, + purposely giving another name, as he addressed his friend—a + pseudonym upon which they had agreed during the night call. Shirley was + suspicious of all telephones, by this time, and his guarded inquiry gave + no possible clue to a wiretapping eavesdropper. + </p> + <p> + “How is the new bull-dog?” was the question, after the first guarded + greeting. “Is he still muzzled?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Smith,” responded Merrivale, “and the meanest specimen I have + ever seen outside a Zoo! When I sent the groom out to feed him this + morning, he snarled and tried to claw him. He's on a hunger strike. I + looked up the license number on his collar but he's not registered in this + state.” (This, Shirley knew, meant the automobile tag under the machine + which had been captured.) + </p> + <p> + “When are you apt to send for him—I don't think I'll keep him any + longer than I can help.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll send out from the dog store, with a letter signed by me. Feed him a + little croton oil to cure his disposition. Good-bye, for now, Jim. I'll + write you, this day.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley hung up, and smiled with satisfaction at the news. The man would + be glad to get bread and water, before long, he felt assured. However, he + despatched a note to Cleary, of the Holland Agency, enclosing a written + order to Merrivale to deliver over the prisoner, for safer keeping in the + city. + </p> + <p> + This disposed of the started out from the club house for his afternoon of + dissipation. As he left the doorway, he noticed the two men with the black + caps standing not far away. They were engrossed in the rolling of + cigarettes, but the swift glance which they shot at him did not escape + Monty. + </p> + <p> + “Like the poor and the bill collectors, they are always with us,” was his + thought, as he calmly strolled over to the Hotel California. He determined + to place them in a quiet, sheltered retreat at the earliest opportunity. + He found Helene more attractive than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I put on this wretched rouge again to-day,” was the plaintive + question, after the first greeting. “I hate it so—and yet, will do + whatever you order.” + </p> + <p> + “Your role calls for it, my dear girl. Perhaps we may close the dramatic + engagement sooner than we expect. To-night should be an eventful one, for + I will accept every lead which Reginald Warren offers. I would like to + have a record of his voice, and that of some of his friends. There is a + difference between the telephone voice and that heard face to face,—you + would be a good witness if I could persuade him to sing or speak for me + into a record. You can straighten out the difficulties of this case, if + you will, in a thoroughly feminine manner.” + </p> + <p> + “And what, sir, is that, I pray you?” + </p> + <p> + “Give him the opportunity—to fall in love with you.” + </p> + <p> + Helene's cheeks flushed a stronger carmine than the rouge which she was + administering, as she looked up in quick embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want him to love me. I want no man to love me,” was the petulant + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless you have reason to be satisfied as things are,” replied + Shirley, puffing a cigarette, “but the softness of cerebral conditions + increases in direct ratio with the mushiness of the affections. If it is + important to us—and you are my partner in this fascinating business + venture—will you not sacrifice your emotions to that extent: merely + to let him lead himself on, as most men do?” He paused for a critical + observation of her, and then added: “You are even more beautiful to-day + than you were yesterday. He cannot help loving you if he is given the + chance!” + </p> + <p> + Helene's white fingers crushed the orchid which she was pinning to the + bosom of her gown. Her intent gaze met the mask of Shirley's ingenuous + smile, reading in his telltale eyes a message which needed no court + interpreter! Quickly she turned to her mirror to put the finishing touches + to her coiffure, the golden curls so alluringly wilful. + </p> + <p> + “Your flattery, sir, is very cruel. Beware! I may take it seriously. What + would happen if my verdant heart were to fall a victim to the cunning + wiles of the voice? Remember, I have only met two men, since I came to + America, yesterday. And they are both pronounced woman-haters. I will take + you at your word, about Mr. Reginald Warren, and loosen my blandishments + to the best of my rustic ability.” + </p> + <p> + A wayward twinkle in her eyes should have warned Shirley that she was + planning a little mischief. But, he was too preoccupied in finding the + real front of her baffling street cloak to observe it. They left for the + tearoom, while Helene still laughed to herself over certain subtle + possibilities which she saw in the situation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. A PILGRIMAGE INTO FRIVOLITY + </h2> + <p> + Rather early, again, for the usual throng, they were able to choose their + position to their liking: to-day, it was in the center of the big room, + close by the space cleared for the dancing. Gradually the tables were + occupied, apparently by the identical people of the afternoon before, so + marked is the peculiar character of the dance-mad individuality. To-day he + varied his menu with a mild order of cocktails—for now he was not + emulating the Epicurean record of the bibulous Grimsby. They observed with + amusement the weird contortions, seldom graced by a vestige of rhythm or + beauty, with which the intent dancers spun and zigzagged. + </p> + <p> + “Considering how much money they pay to learn these steps from + dancing-masters, there is unusually small value in the market, Miss + Marigold. I resigned myself to the approach of the sunset years, and + became a voluntary exile in the garden of the wallflowers, when society + dancing became mathematical.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Once it was possible to chat, to smile, to woo or to silently enjoy the + music and the measures of the dance in company with a sympathetic partner. + Now, however, since the triumph of the 'New Mode,' one must count + 'one-two-three,' and one's partner is more captious than a schoolmarm! + What puzzles me is the need for new steps, to be learned from expensive + teachers, when it's so easy to slide down hill in this part of New York. + But here endeth the sermon, for I recognize the amiable Pinkie at that + other table, where she is studying your face with the malevolence of a + cobra.” + </p> + <p> + Helene slowly turned her eyes toward the other girl, who now advanced with + forced effusiveness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, and you're back again today. But where is dear old Grimmie; + he is a nice old soul, though a trifle near-sighted. He wasn't half seas + over last night—he was a war-zone submarine, out for a long-distance + record!” + </p> + <p> + She impudently seated herself at the table with them, sending a + questioning glance at the handsome companion of her quondam rival. Helene + instinctively drew back, but a warning glance from Shirley plunged her + into her assumed character, and she greeted the other girl with the + quasi-comradeship of their class. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, dear. Grimsby was a little poisoned by the salad or something + like that: he was actually disagreeable with me, of all people in the + world. But, I have so many friends that Grimsby does not give me any + worry. He means nothing in my life. You seemed quite worried over him, + though—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, girlie,” was Pinkie's effort to parry. “I was upset—not + because he was with you, but to see the old chap showing his age. His + taste has deteriorated so much since he started wearing glasses. But why + don't you introduce me to your gentleman friend?” + </p> + <p> + Helene's faint smile expressed volumes, as she turned toward the modest + Shirley with a bow of condescension. “This is Pinkie, one of old Grimsby's + sweethearts, Mr. Shirley. I'm sure you'll like her.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you Montague Shirley?” demanded the auburn-haired coquette with + sudden interest. As Shirley nodded, she caught his hand with an ardent + glance, ogling him impressively, as she continued: “I've heard a lot of + you. I'm just that pleased to meet you!” + </p> + <p> + An indefinable resentment crept over Helene. How could this creature of + the demi-monde have even distant acquaintance of such a wholesome, + superior man as her escort? The effusiveness was irritating, and the + overacted kittenishness of the girl made her sick at heart, although she + betrayed no sign of her feeling. Helene could not understand that despite + its mammoth size, New York is relatively provincial in the club and + theatrical community, his acquaintanceship numbering into the thousands. + Town Topics, the social gossipers of the newspapers and talkative club men + bandied names about in such wise that it was easy for members of Pinkie's + profession to satisfy their hopeful curiosity—prompted by visions of + eventual social conquest on the one hand and a professional desire to + memorize street numbers on the Wealth Highway for ultimate financial + manipulations. As one of the richest members of the exclusive bachelor + set, Montague Shirley, even unknown to himself, occupied reserved niches + in the ambitions of a hundred and one fair plotters! + </p> + <p> + “You will honor us by taking a drink, Miss Pinkie?” was the + criminologist's courteous overture. + </p> + <p> + “Pinkie Marlowe, if you want to know the rest of my name. Yes, I need a + little absinthe to wake me up, for I just finished breakfast. We had a + large party last night at Reg Warren's. Why don't you dance with me?” + </p> + <p> + “The old adage about fat men never being loved applies especially to those + who brave the terrors of the fox-trot. I weigh two hundred, so I wisely + sit under the trees and laugh at the others.” + </p> + <p> + “You two hundred?” and admiration flashed from Pinkie's emotional eyes, “I + don't believe it. Why, you're just right! I could dance with a man like + you all night!” + </p> + <p> + Helene's helplessness only fanned the flames of her inward fury at the + brazen intent of the girl. She forgot about Jack and even her plans about + Reginald Warren. But Shirley's purpose was now rewarded, for Pinkie acted + as the magnet to draw over several of the gilded youths whom they had met + the day before. More introductions followed, and additional refreshments + were soon gracing the table. Shine Taylor was the next to join the party, + and erelong the waited-for visitor was approaching them. His eyes were + upon Shirley from the instant that he entered the room: he advanced + directly toward their table with a certainty which proved to Monty that + method was in every move. + </p> + <p> + “What a pleasant surprise, little Bonbon!” exclaimed this gentleman as he + drew up to their table. “I'm so glad. I was afraid you wouldn't get home + safely with Grimsby; he was so absolutely overcome last night. He promised + to bring you to my little entertainment but didn't show up. What became of + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Join us in a drink and forget him,” suggested Helene, as she took his + hand with an innocently stupid smile. “This is Mr. Shirley, Mr.—Mr.—I + had so much champagne last night I forgot your name.” + </p> + <p> + “Warren, that's simple enough. Glad to see you, Mr. Sherwood, oh, Shirley! + It seems as though I had heard your name—aren't you an actor, or an + artist? A musician, or something like that? My memory is so miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm just a 'something like that,' not even an actor,” was the answer, as + the tiniest of nudges registered Helene's appreciation. “What is your + favorite poison?” + </p> + <p> + Warren gave him a startled look, and then laughed: “Oh, you mean to drink? + Now you must join me for I am the intruder.” He drew out a roll of money; + more nice, new hundred dollar bills. Shirley remembered that old Van Cleft + had drawn several thousand dollars from his office the night of the + murder. Even his trained stoicism rebelled at thought of drinking a + cocktail bought with this bloody currency! + </p> + <p> + “You didn't tell me about Grimsby?” persisted Warren, turning to Helene, + with an admiring scrutiny of the girl's charms. “I'm rather interested.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to ask him, not me. After we took a taxi from the + Winter-Garden we had a ride in the Park. So stupid, I thought, at this + time of the year. When I woke up, Grimmie was helping me into the entrance + of the hotel. He was very cross with the chauffeur and with me, too. Then + he took the taxi and went home, still angry.” + </p> + <p> + “So!” after a moment's silence, Warren continued, a puzzled look on his + face. “What was the trouble? I don't see how any one could be cross with a + nice little girl like you. But to-night, I'm to have another little party + up at my house. Bring some one up, who won't be cross. You come, Mr. + Shirley?” + </p> + <p> + Helene hesitated, but Monty acquiesced. + </p> + <p> + “That would be splendid. What time?” + </p> + <p> + “About eleven. I'll expect you—I must run along now, as I'm ordering + some fancy dishes.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley had paid his waiter, and he rose with Helene. + </p> + <p> + “We must be leaving, too. I'll accept your invitation.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'll be there, too, Mr. Shirley,” put in Pinkie Marlowe. “I'll teach + you some new steps. Reggie has a wonderful phonograph for dancing, with + all the new tunes. See you later, girlie.” + </p> + <p> + They were accompanied to the door by Shine and Warren. At the check-room, + Shirley was interested to note that Shine Taylor took out his green velour + hat. His feet were adorned with white spats. After the door of their taxi + had slammed he confided to Helene that he had located the gentleman who + had caused his wreck that morning. Still, however, the clues were too weak + for action. The car went first to the club, where Shirley sent in for any + possible letters or messages. The servant brought out a note. It was + another surprise. He gave an address to the driver and as the car turned + up Fifth Avenue, he studied this missive with knit brows. + </p> + <p> + “A new worry?” asked Helene. “May I help you?” + </p> + <p> + He handed her the letter, and she noticed the nervous handwriting. It was + short. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mr. Shirley: Just received a threatening note demanding money. Can + you come up at once? Howard V. C.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley answered the question in the blue eyes, as she finished. + </p> + <p> + “As I thought it would turn out. Baffled in their game of robbing old men + who have all left the city, they have begun to work the chance for + blackmail. I will advise Van Cleft to pay them, and then we will follow + the money. Here is the mansion and I will be out in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + He soon disappeared behind the bronze door. True to his promise, in five + minutes he had returned. He looked up and down the Avenue amazed. Not a + trace of the taxicab, nor of Helene Marigold could be seen! + </p> + <p> + Shirley's impulse was to pinch himself to awaken from the chimera. He knew + she was armed, and would use the weapon if only to call for help. For the + first time in his career the chill of terror crept into his heart—not + for himself, but an irresistible dread of some impending danger for this + unfathomable woman who had shared his dangers so uncomplainingly during + this last wonderful day. He racked his mind vainly for some plausible + reason. “She knows I need her. Yet at the supreme moment of the game she + disappears. Can she be like other women, when she is most necessary?” + </p> + <p> + And he walked slowly down the Avenue, disconcerted, endeavoring to solve + this sudden abortion of his best laid plans. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. CONCERNING HELENE'S FINESSE + </h2> + <p> + Shirley endured a miserable three hours, in his attempts to locate the + girl. She had not returned to the Hotel California, and he returned to the + club in moody reflection. It was beginning to snow, and the ground was + soon covered with a thin coat of white, through which he noticed his + footprints stenciled against the black of the wet pavement. He wasted a + dozen matches in the freshening wind, as he tried to light a cigarette. He + stepped into a doorway on the Avenue to avail himself of its shelter. As + he turned out to the street again, he almost bumped into two men, wearing + black caps! One of them grunted a curt apology, as he stepped on. + </p> + <p> + “They are after me as usual,” he thought. “Why not reverse operations and + find out where they belong?” + </p> + <p> + It seemed hopeless: as in a checker game they had him at disadvantage with + the odd number of the “move.” Theirs was the chance to observe, and an + open attempt to follow them would be ridiculous. Then, the footprints gave + him an idea. + </p> + <p> + Dimly behind could be discerned the two men, as he quickened his pace, + turning into a side street, off Fifth Avenue. Here he knew that traffic + would be light, and his footprints the best evidence of his progress. The + men unwittingly caught his plan, and dropped almost out of sight. At the + intersection of Madison Avenue, they quickened their steps, and caught up + with him again. Across corners, down quiet streets, and by purposed + diagonals he led them: still they dogged his footprints. So adroit were + they that only one experienced in the art could have realized their + watchfulness. + </p> + <p> + Shirley now turned a corner quickly, into an unusually deserted + thoroughfare, running with short steps, so as not to betray his speed by + the tracks. Before they had time to round the corner he ran up the thinly + blanketed steps of a private residence. Then he backed, as swiftly down + the stoop, and thus crablike, walked across the street, down a dozen + houses and backward still, up the steps of another private dwelling. + Inside the vestibule he hid himself. The entry had strong wooden outside + doors, and he tried the strength of the hinges: they satisfied him. A dim + light burned behind the glass of the inner portal. He quietly clambered up + the door, and balanced himself on the wood which gallantly stood the + strain. Fortunately it did not come within four feet of the high ceiling + of the old fashioned house. + </p> + <p> + He suffered a good ten minutes' wait before his ruse was rewarded. Being + on the “fence” was a pastime compared to this precarious test of his + muscles. The two men who had followed the first footprints tired of + waiting before the house. One of them determined to investigate the other + steps, which led into the house of their vigilance, from the other + dwelling. And so he followed on, to the vestibule where he rang the bell. + Shirley could have touched his head, so near he was, but the darkness of + the upper space covered the retreat of the criminologist. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” was the angry question of an indignant old caretaker + who answered the bell tardily. “You woke me up.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, lady, can I speak to Mr. Montague Shirley?” began the man, gingerly. + </p> + <p> + “You get away from this house, you loafer or I'll call the police. No one + by that name ain't here. Now, you get!” + </p> + <p> + She slammed the door in his face. + </p> + <p> + “I'll get Chuck to watch de udder joint,” muttered the man, in a tone + audible to Shirley. “Den I'll go back and git orders from Phil.” + </p> + <p> + This habit of thinking aloud was expensive. Shirley stiffly but + noiselessly slid down the steps, as he disappeared in the thickening + snowfall. The criminologist slowly crossed the street, and sheltered + himself in a basement entrance, from which he reversed the shadowing + process. The twain hesitated before the first house, then one came up the + sidewalk, as the other stood his ground. This man passed within a few feet + of Shirley, who followed him over to Madison Avenue, then north to + Fifty-fifth Street. Here he turned west, and turned into one of the old + stables, formerly used by the gentry of the exclusive section for their + blooded steeds. Into one building, which announced its identity as + “Garage” with its glittering electric sign, the man disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Shirley paused, looked about him, and chuckled. For he knew that through + the block on Fifty-sixth Street was the tall apartment building, known as + the Somerset—the address given him by Reginald Warren. + </p> + <p> + “If I only had some word from Helene Marigold I could go ahead before they + realized my knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + Even as this thought crossed his mind, he turned back into Sixth Avenue. A + hatless, breathless young person, running down the snowy street collided + with him. As he began to apologize, he awoke to the startling fact that it + was his assistant. + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott! What are you doing here? Where have you been all this time?” + </p> + <p> + The girl caught his arm unsteadily, but there was a triumph in her voice, + as she cried: “Oh, this wonderful chance meeting. I was running down to my + hotel but you have saved the day. I will tell you later. Quick, take this + book.” + </p> + <p> + She drew forth a volume, flexibly bound, like a small loose-leaf ledger. + Shirley stuck it into his overcoat pocket, which he was already slipping + about the girl's shivering shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Take me back at once, for there is more for me to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Where, my dear girl? You are indeed the lady of mysteries.” + </p> + <p> + “To the basement of Warren's apartment house. I came down the dumb-waiter, + when they left me. I left the little door ajar—Can you pull me up + again? He is on the eighth floor. It is a long pull—Oh, if we can + only make it before they return.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of the mad game, as she ran once more, + Shirley keeping pace with her. The flurries of the snowstorm protected + them from too-curious observation, as the streets seemed deserted by + pedestrians who feared the growing blizzard. She led him to the + tradesman's entrance of the Somerset, into the dark corridor through which + she had emerged. + </p> + <p> + “Don't strike a light, for I can feel the way. We mustn't be seen.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley obeyed,—at last she found the base of the dumbwaiter shaft. + </p> + <p> + “How did you have the strength to lower yourself down this shaft—it + is no small task?” and his tone was admiring. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a weakling—tennis, boating, swimming were all in my + education; they helped. But it is beyond me to pull all those floors, and + lift my weight. Pull up as far as the little elevator car goes, then go + away and come to his party to look for me. Do not be surprised at my + actions. My role has really developed into that of an emotional heavy.” + </p> + <p> + She patted his hand with a relaxation of tenderness, as he began to draw + on the long rope. The girl was by no means a light weight, but at last the + dumb-waiter came to a stop. Shirley heard the opening and closing of a + door above. Then, still wondering at it all, he returned to the street as + unobserved as they had entered. There was at least an hour to wait. He + walked over to the Athletic Club, of which he was a remiss member, + attending seldom during the recent months when his exercise had been more + tragic than gymnastic work. In the library of the club house he sat down + to study the volume which Helene had thrust into his hands at their + startling meeting. + </p> + <p> + He gave a low whistle of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Some little book!” he muttered, “and Helene Marigold has shown me that I + must fight hard to equal her in the race for laurels!” + </p> + <p> + Then he proceeded to rack his brains with a new and knottier problem than + any which he had yet encountered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE STRANGE AND SURPRISING WARREN + </h2> + <p> + The volume was a loose-leaf diary, with each page dated, and of letter + size. It covered more than the current year, however, running back for + nearly eighteen months. It was as scrupulously edited as a lawyer's + engagement book, and curiously enough it was entirely written in + typewriting! + </p> + <p> + Most surprising of all, however, was the curious code in which the entire + matter was transcribed,—the most unusual one which Shirley had ever + read. + </p> + <p> + Here was the first page to which he opened, letter for letter and symbol + for symbol: + </p> + <p> + “THURSDAY: JANUARY SEVENTH, 1915. + ;rstmrfagtp,ansmlafrav;rudyrtaftreadocayjpi + dsmfaoma,ptmomha,pmlassdohmrfaypayscoae + ptlagptayrsadjomrasddohmrfagocahrmrsypta + ,sthoragsotgscafsyraeoyjafrav;rudyrtasyagobra + djomrasmfalprajse;ruavobrtomhas,rakslras + smffanrmasddohmrfan;svlavstagpta,raqsofaqj o;apmrajimftrfavpbrtomhadqrvos; + aeptlakpn agomodjrfatobrtdofraftobrasyarohjyoayjotfad ocadjstqafrqpdoyr + famohjyasmfaffuagpitayjpi dsmfadsgrafrqpdoyagogyrrmajimftrfa; rmyaf + p;;ua,stopmayepajimfrtgptaftrddagptaqstyua + eoyjabsmv;rgyamrcyasgyrtmppmasfbsmvrfad jomrapmrayjpidsm + daypavpbrtapqyopmapga usvjyadimnrs, aqsofaypantplrtayjsyamohjyapt + frfaqtpbodop,dayr;rqjpmragptausvjyayepa,p myjabtiodra, + pmlasddohmrdagptkpnamrcyafs uasfbs mvrfadjomragojimftrfapmasvvpimyae + ptlapmaer;;omhypmadrtts;a,syyrtatrqsitdan; svla,svjomra” + </p> + <p> + and so it ran on, baffling and inspiring a headache! + </p> + <p> + Shirley went over and over the lines of this bewildering phalanx of + letters with no reward for his absorbed devotion to the puzzle. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” he mused. “Thursday, January seventh, was the date upon + which Washington Serral was murdered, according to Doctor MacDonald. Any + man who will maintain a record of the days in such a difficult code as + this must not only be extremely methodical, but is certain to have much to + put upon that record worth the trouble. Here may lay the secret of the + entire case.” + </p> + <p> + At the end of the hour he had allowed himself, there was no more proximity + to solution than at the inception of his effort. It was almost half-past + eleven, and he knew that it was time to go to Warren's apartment. He sent + a messenger with the book, carefully wrapped up, to his rooms at the club + on Forty-fourth Street. It was too interesting a document to risk taking + up to that apartment again, after Helene's exertions in obtaining it. + </p> + <p> + The Somerset was not dissimilar from the hundreds of highly embellished + dwellings of the sort which abound in the region of the Park, causing + out-of-town visitors to marvel justly at the source of the vast sums of + money with which to pay the enormous rentals of them all. + </p> + <p> + The elevator operator smirked knowingly, when he asked for Warren's + apartment. “You-all can go right up, boss. He's holdin' forth for another + of dem high sassiety shindigs to-night. Dat gemman alluz has too many + callin' to bother with the telephone when he has a party. You don't need + no announcin'.” + </p> + <p> + The man directed him to the door on the left. Closed as it was the sounds + of merrymaking emanated into the corridor. Shirley's pressure on the bell + was answered by Shine Taylor's startled face. Warren stood behind him. The + surprise of the pair amused Shirley, but their composure bespoke trained + self-control. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry to be late,” was the criminologist's greeting. “But I came up + to apologize for not being able to bring Miss Marigold. We missed + connections somewhere, and I couldn't find her.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so pleased to have you with us anyway. We'll try to get along + without her—” but Warren was interrupted to his discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + A silvery laugh came from the hallway behind him. Helene Marigold waved a + champagne glass at Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “There's my tardy escort now. I'm here, Shirley old top! Te, he! You see I + played a little joke on you this afternoon and eloped with a handsomer man + than you.” She leaned unsteadily against the door post and waved a white + hand at him as she coaxed. “Come on in, old dear, and don't be cross now + with your little Bonbon Tootems!” + </p> + <p> + Taylor and Warren exchanged glances, for this was an unexpected sally. But + they were prompt in their effusive cordiality, as they assisted Shirley in + removing his overcoat, and hanging his hat with those of the other guests. + He placed his cane against the hall tree, and followed his host into the + jollified apartment. He did not overlook the swift glide of Shine's hand + into each of his overcoat pockets in the brief interval. Here was a + skilful “dip”—Shirley, however, had taken care that the pickpocket + would find nothing to worry him in the overcoat. + </p> + <p> + Warren's establishment was a gorgeous one. To Shirley it was hard to + harmonize the character of the man as he had already deduced it with the + evident passion for the beautiful. That such a connoisseur of art objects + could harbor in so broad and cultured a mind the machinations of such + infamy seemed almost incredible. The riddle was not new with Reginald + Warren's case: for morals and “culture” have shown their sociological, + economic and even diplomatic independence of each other from the time when + the memory of man runneth not! + </p> + <p> + Shirley's admiration was shrewdly sensed by his host. So after a tactful + introduction to the self-absorbed merrymakers, now in all stages of + stimulated exuberance, he conducted his guest on a tour of inspection + about his rooms. + </p> + <p> + “So, you like etchings? I want you to see my five Whistlers. Here is my + Fritz Thaulow, and there is my Corot. This crayon by Von Lenbach is a + favorite of mine.” His black eyes sparkled with pride as he pointed out + one gem after another in this veritable storehouse of artistic surprises. + Few of the jolly throng gave evidence of appreciating them: the man was + curiously superior to his associations in education as well as the patent + evidence which Shirley now observed of being to the manor born. Helene + Marigold, ensconced in a big library chair, her feet curled under her, + pink fingers supporting the oval chin, dreamily watched Shirley's + absorption. She seemed almost asleep, but her mind drank in each mood that + fired the criminologist's face, as he thoroughly relaxed from his usual + bland superiority of mien, to revel in the treasures. + </p> + <p> + Ivory masterpieces, Hindu carvings, bronzes, landscapes, rare wood-cuts, + water colors—such a harmonious variety he had seldom seen in any + private collection. The library was another thesaurus: rich bindings + encased volumes worthy of their garb. The books, furthermore, showed the + mellowing evidence of frequent use; here was no patron of the instalment + editions-de-luxe! + </p> + <p> + “You like my things,” and Warren's voice purred almost happily. There was + a softening change in his attitude, which Shirley understood. The + appreciation of a fellow worshiper warmed his heart. “My books—all + bound privately, you know, for I hate shop bindings. Most of them from + second-hand stalls, redolent with the personalities of half a hundred + readers. Books are so much more worth reading when they have been read and + read again. Don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I see your tastes run to the modern school. Individualism, even + morbidity: Spencer, Nietsche, Schopenhauer, Tolstoi, Kropotkin, Gorky—They + express your thoughts collectively?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not radically enough. My entire intellectual life has driven me + forward—I am a disciple of the absolute freedom, the divinity of + self, and—but there I invited you to a joy party, not a university + seminar.” + </p> + <p> + “But the party will grow riper with age,” and Shirley was prone to + continue the autopsy. “You are a university man. Where did you study?” + </p> + <p> + “Sipping here and there,” and a forgivable vanity lightened Warren's face. + “Gottingen, Warsaw, Jena, Oxford, Milan, The Sorbonne and even at + Heidelberg, the jolly old place. You see my scar?” He pulled back a lock + of his wavy black hair from the left temple to show a cut from a student + duelist's sword. “But you Americans—I mean, we Americans—we + have such opportunities to pick up the best things from the rest of the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Warren,” and Shirley shook his head, not overlooking the slight break + which indicated that his host was a foreigner, despite the quick change. + “I have been to busy wasting time to collect anything but fleeting + memories. Too much polo, swimming, yachting, golfing—I have fallen + into evil ways. I think your example may reform me. You must dine with me + at my club some day, and give me some hints about making such wonderful + purchases.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the most wonderful antique shop,” Warren began, and just then was + interrupted by Shine Taylor and a dizzy blonde person with whom he maxixed + through the Hindu draperies, each deftly balancing a champagne glass. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Reg, you neglect your other guests. Come on in!” Shine's companion + held out a wine glass to Warren, but her eyes were fixed in a fascinated + stare upon Montague Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + It was little Dolly Marion, Van Cleft's companion on the fatal automobile + ride. She trembled: the glass fell to the floor with a tinkly crash. + Shirley smiled indulgently. Taylor and Warren exchanged looks, but Monty + knew that they must by this time be aware of his command to the girl to + abstain from gay associations. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't resist the call of the wild, could you, Miss Dolly?” + </p> + <p> + The girl sheepishly giggled, and danced out of the room, to sink into a + chair, wondering what this visitation meant. Another masculine butterfly + pressed more champagne upon her, and in a few moments she had forgotten to + worry about anything more important than the laws of gravity. Warren had + been rudely dragged away from his intellectual kinship with his guest. His + manner changed, almost indefinably, but Shirley understood. He looked at + Helene, a little bundle of sleepy sweetness in the big chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss! Where did you go when I left you on my call of condolence to + Howard Van Cleft? He leaves town to-night for a trip on his yacht, and it + was my last chance to say good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he going?” was Warren's lapsus linguae, at this bit of news. + </p> + <p> + “Down to the Gulf, I believe. Do you know him, Warren? Nice chap. Too bad + about his father's sudden death from heart failure, wasn't it? He told me + they were putting in supplies for a two months' cruise and would not be + able to sail before three in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know Van Cleft,” was Warren's guarded reply. “Of course, I read + of his sad loss. But he is so rich now that he can wipe out his grief with + a change of scene and part of the inheritance. It's being done in society, + these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Van Cleft! He's besieged by blackmailers, who threaten to lay bare + his father's extravagant innuendos, unless he pays fifty thousand dollars. + He can afford it, but as he says, it's war times and money is scarce as + brunette chorus girls. He has put the matter before the District Attorney + and is going to sail for Far Cathay until they round up the gang. These + criminals are so clumsy nowadays, I imagine it will be an easy task, don't + you, Warren?” + </p> + <p> + The other man's eyes narrowed to black slits as he studied the childlike + expression of Shirley's face. He wondered if there could be a covert + threat in this innocent confidence. He answered laconically: “Oh, I + suppose so. We read about crooks in the magazines and then see their + capers in the motion picture thrillers, but down in real life, we find + them a sordid, unimaginative lot of rogues.” + </p> + <p> + He proffered Shirley a cigarette from his jeweled case. As he leaned + toward the table to draw a match from the small bronze holder, Helene + observed Shirley deftly substitute it for one of his own, secreting the + first. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued Shirley, “the criminal who is caught generally loses his + game because he is mechanical and ungifted with talent. But think of the + criminals who have yet to be captured—the brilliant, the inspired + ones, the chess-players of wickedness who love their game and play it with + the finesse of experts.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley smoothed away the ripple of suspicion which he had mischievously + aroused with, “So, that is why fellows like us would not bother with the + life. The same physical and intellectual effort expended by a criminal + genius would bring him money and power with no clutching legal hand to + fear. But there, we're getting morbid. What I really want to do is to + satisfy my vanity. Where did Miss Marigold disappear?” + </p> + <p> + “Talking about me?” and Helene opened her eyes languorously. “I was so + tired waiting for you that when Mr. Warren came along in his wonderful new + car I yielded to his invitation, so we enjoyed that tea-room trip which + you had promised. Such a lark! Then we came up here where I had the most + wonderful dinner with him and three girls. I was tired and sleepy, so I + dozed away on that library davenport until the party began—and there + you are and here I are, and so, forgive me, Monty?” + </p> + <p> + She slipped nimbly to the floor, with a maddening display of a silken + ankle, advancing to the criminologist with a wistful playfulness which + brought a flush of sudden feeling, to the face of Reginald Warren. Helene + was carrying out his directions to the letter, Shirley observed. + </p> + <p> + They lingered at Warren's festivities until a wee sma' hour, Helene + pretending to share the conviviality, while actually maintaining a + hawk-like watch upon the two conspirators as she now felt them to be. She + was amused by the frequency with which Shine Taylor and Reginald Warren + plied their guest with cigarettes: Shirley's legerdemain in substituting + them was worthy of the vaudeville stage. + </p> + <p> + “The wine and my smoking have made me drowsy,” he told her, with no effort + at concealment. “We must get home or I'll fall asleep myself.” + </p> + <p> + A covert smile flitted across Warren's pale face, as Shirley + unconventionally indulged in several semi-polite yawns, nodding a bit, as + well. Helene accepted glass after glass of wine, thoughtfully poured out + by her host. And as thoughtfully, did she pour it into the flower vases + when his back was turned: she matched the other girls' acute transports of + vinous joy without an error. Shirley walked to the window, asking if he + might open it for a little fresh air. Warren nodded smiling. + </p> + <p> + “You are well on the way to heaven in this altitude of eight stories,” + volunteered Shirley, with a sleepy laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The eighth and top floor. A burglar could make a good haul of my + collection, except that I have the window to the fire escape barred from + the inside, around the corner facing to the north. Here, I am safe from + molestation.” + </p> + <p> + “A great view of the Park—what a fine library for real reading; and + I see you have a typewriter—the same make I used to thump, when I + did newspaper work—a Remwood. Let me see some of your literary work, + sometime—” + </p> + <p> + Warren waved a deprecating hand. “Very little—editors do not like + it. I do better with an adding machine down on Wall Street than a + typewriter. But let us join the others.” There was a noticeable reluctance + about dwelling upon the typewriter subject. Warren hurried into the + drawing-room, as Shirley followed with a perceptible stagger. + </p> + <p> + Shine Taylor scrutinized his condition, as he asked for another cigarette. + As he yielded to an apparent craving for sleep, the others danced and + chatted, while Taylor disappeared through the hall door. After a few + minutes he returned to grimace slightly at Warren. Shirley roused himself + from his stupor. + </p> + <p> + “Bonbon, let us be going. Good-night, everybody.” + </p> + <p> + He walked unsteadily to the door, amid a chorus of noisy farewells, with + Helene unsteady and hilarious behind him. Warren and Shine seemed + satisfied with their hospitable endeavors, as they bade good-night. The + elevator brought up two belated guests, the roseate Pinkie and a colorless + youth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, are you going, Mr. Shirley? What a blooming shame. I just left the + most wonderful supper-party at the Claridge to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad: I hope for better luck next time.” + </p> + <p> + “The elevator is waiting,” and Helene's gaze was scornful. Shirley + restrained his smile at the girl's covert hatred of the redhaired charmer. + Then he asked maliciously: “Isn't she interesting? Too bad she associates + with her inferiors.” + </p> + <p> + “You put it mildly.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, boy, call a taxicab,” he ordered the attendant, as they reached the + lower level. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, boss, but I dassent leave the elevator at this time of night. I'm + the only one in the place jest now.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley insisted, with a duty soother of silver, but the negro returned in + a few minutes, shaking his head. Shirley ordered him to telephone the + nearest hacking-stand. Then followed another delay, without result. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Miss Helene, there is method in this. Let us walk, as it seems to + have been planned we should.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it wise? Why put yourself in their net?” + </p> + <p> + For reply, he placed in her hand the walking stick which he had so + carefully guarded when they entered the apartment. It was heavier than a + policeman's nightstick. As he retook it, she observed the straightening + line of his lips. + </p> + <p> + “As the French say, 'We shall see what we shall see.' Please walk a little + behind me, so that my right arm may be free.” + </p> + <p> + It was after two, and the street was dark. Shirley had noted an arc-light + on the corner when he had entered the building—now it was + extinguished. A man lurched forward as they turned into Sixth Avenue, his + eyes covered by a dark cap. + </p> + <p> + “Say gent! Give a guy that's down an' out the price of a beef stew? I got + three pennies an' two more'll fix me.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, gent, have a heart!” The man was persistent, drawing closer, as + Shirley walked an with his companion, into the increasing darkness, away + from the corner. Another figure appeared from a dark doorway. + </p> + <p> + “I'm broke too, Mister. Kin yer help a poor war refugee on a night like + this?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley slipped his left hand inside his coat pocket and drew out a + handkerchief to the surprise of the men. He suddenly drew Helene back + against the wall, and stood between her and the two men. + </p> + <p> + “What do you thugs want?” snapped the criminologist, as he clenched the + cane tightly and held the handkerchief in his left hand. There was no + reply. The men realized that he knew their purpose—one dropped to a + knee position as the other sprang forward. The famous football toe shot + forward with more at stake than ever in the days when the grandstands + screeched for a field goal. At the same instant he swung the loaded cane + upon the shoulders of the upright man, missing his head. + </p> + <p> + The second man swung a blackjack. + </p> + <p> + The first, with a bleeding face staggered to his feet. + </p> + <p> + The handkerchief went up to the mouth of the active assailant, and to + Helene's astonishment, he sank back with a moan. Shirley pounced upon his + mate, and after a slight tussle, applied the handkerchief with the same + benumbing effect. Then he rolled it up and tossed it far from him. + </p> + <p> + He took a police whistle from his pocket and blew it three times. His + assailants lay quietly on the ground, so that when the officer arrived he + found an immaculately garbed gentleman dusting off his coat shoulder, and + looking at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, sir?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “A couple of drunks attacked me, after I wouldn't give them a handout. + Then they passed away. You won't need my complaint—look at them—” + </p> + <p> + The policeman shook the men, but they seemed helpless except to groan and + hold their heads in mute agony, dull and apparently unaware of what was + going on about them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you don't want to press the charge of assault?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I may have it looked up by my attorney. Tonight I do not care to take + my wife to the stationhouse with me. They ought to get thirty days, at + that.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley took Helene's arm, and the officer nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I'll send for the wagon, sir. They're some pickled. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + As they walked up to the nearest car crossing, Helene turned to him with + her surprise unabated. + </p> + <p> + “What did you do to them, Mr. Shirley?” + </p> + <p> + “Merely crushed a small vial of Amyl nitrite which I thoughtfully put in + my handkerchief this afternoon. It is a chemical whose fumes are used for + restoring people afflicted with heart failure: with men like these, and + the amount of the liquid which I gave them for perfume, the result was the + same as complete unconsciousness from drunkenness.—Science is a + glorious thing, Miss Helene.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH SHIRLEY SURPRISES HIMSELF + </h2> + <p> + They reached the hotel without untoward adventure. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we might find a little corner in that dining-room I saw this + afternoon, with an obliging waiter to bring us something to eat. Shall we + try? I need a lot of coffee, for I am going down to the dock of the Yacht + Club to await developments.” + </p> + <p> + “You big silly boy,” she cautioned, with a maternal note in her voice + which was very sweet to bachelor ears from such a maiden mouth, “you must + not let Nature snap. You have a wonderful physique but you must go home to + bed.” + </p> + <p> + “It can't be done—I want to hear about your little visit to the + apartment, and the story of the diary. I'll ask the clerk.” + </p> + <p> + A bill glided across the register of the hotel desk, and the greeter + promised to attend to the club sandwiches himself. He led them to a cosey + table, in the deserted room, and started out to send the bell-boy to a + nearby lunchroom. + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute please,—if any one calls up Miss Marigold, don't let + them know she has returned. I have something important to say, without + interruption: you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I get you, sir,” and the droll part was that with a familiarity + generated of the hotel arts he did understand even better than Shirley or + Helene. He had seen many other young millionaires and golden-haired + actresses. Shirley looked across the table into the astral blue of those + gorgeous eyes. Certain unbidden, foolish words strove to liberate + themselves from his stubborn lips. + </p> + <p> + “I am a consummate idiot!” was all that escaped, and Helene looked her + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, have you made a mistake?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not. But tell me of Warren's mistake.” + </p> + <p> + She had been waiting what seemed an eternity before Van Cleft's house, + when a big machine drew up alongside. Warren greeted her with a smiling + invitation to leave Shirley guessing. Her willingness to go, she felt, + would disarm his suspicions. The little dinner in the apartment with + Shine, Warren and three girls had been in good taste enough: pretending, + however, to be overcome with weariness she persuaded them to let her + cuddle up on the couch, where she feigned sleep. Warren had tossed an + overcoat over her and left the apartment with the others, promising to + return in a few minutes. He had said to Shine, “She'll be quiet until we + return—it may be a good alibi to have her here.” Then he had + disappeared, wearing only a soft hat, with no other overcoat. Listening at + the closed hall door, she heard him direct the elevator man, “Second off, + Joe.” The door was locked from the outside. The servant's entrance was + locked, all the bedrooms locked, every one with a Yale lock above the + ordinary keyhole. The Chinese cook had been sent out sometime before to + buy groceries and wine for the later party. + </p> + <p> + “But where did you find the note-book? It may send him to the electric + chair.” Monty Shirley was lighting one of the cigarettes handed him by his + host. He sniffed at it and crushed out the embers at the end. “This + cigarette would have sent me to dreamland for a day at least—Warren + understands as much chemistry as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “At first I studied the books in the library out of curiosity and then + noticed that three books were shoved in, out of alignment with the others + on the shelf. With a manservant in the house, instead of a woman, of + course things needed dusting. But where these three books were it had been + rubbed off! I took out the books, reached behind and found the little + leather volume. It was simple. I went to his typewriter when I saw that + the pages were all typed, and took out some note-paper, from the bronze + rack.” + </p> + <p> + “And then, Miss Sleuth?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't laugh at me. I had heard of the legal phrase 'corroborative + evidence,' so knowing that it would be necessary to connect that + typewriter with the book, I rattled off a few lines on the machine. Here + it is: it will show the individuality of the machine to an expert.” + </p> + <p> + “You wonderful girl!” he murmured simply. She protested, “Don't tease me. + I have watched you and am learning some of your simple but complete + methods of working. I understand you better than you think.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on with your story,” and Shirley was uncomfortable, although he knew + not why. + </p> + <p> + “That is the end of my tale of woe. The kitchen being open, I took + advantage of the dumb-waiter, as you already know. It's fortunate that + waiter is dumb, for it must have many lurid confessions to make. I never + saw such an interminable shaft; it seemed higher than the Eiffel Tower. + See how I blistered my hands on the rope, letting myself down.” + </p> + <p> + She opened her palms, showing the red souvenirs of the coarse strands. + Almost unconsciously she placed her soft fingers within Shirley's for a + brief instant. She quickly drew them away, sensing a blush beneath the + cosmetics, glad that he could not detect it. That gentle contact thrilled + Shirley again, even as the dear memory of the tired cheek against his + shoulder, during the automobile trip of the previous night. + </p> + <p> + “After finding you so accidentally and returning with your aid, on the + little elevator, I threw myself back into the original pose on the big + couch. It was just in time, for Warren returned. His cook came in shortly + afterward. I imagine that he allows no one in that apartment, ordinarily, + when he is not there himself. But what, sir, do you think I discovered + upon the shoulder of his coat?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley shook his head. “A beautiful crimson hair,” he asked gravely, + “from the sun-kissed forehead of the delectable Pinkie? Or was it white, + from the tail of the snowy charger which tradition informs us always lurks + in the vicinity of auburn-haired enchantresses?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing so romantic. Just cobwebs! He saw me looking at them, and brushed + them off very quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “The man thinks he is a wine bottle of rare vintage!” observed Shirley. + But the jest was only in his words. He looked at her seriously and then + rapt in thought, closed his eyes the better to aid his mental calculation. + “He got off at the second floor—He wore no overcoat—A black + silk handkerchief—cobwebs—and that garage on the other street, + through the block! Miss Helene, you are a splendid ally!” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you tell me what you mean about the garage? Who were those men who + attacked you? What happened since I deserted you?” + </p> + <p> + But Shirley provokingly shook his head, as he drew out his watch. + </p> + <p> + “It is half-past two. I must hurry down to East Twenty-fifth Street and + the East River, at the yacht club mooring, before three. Tomorrow I will + give you my version in some quiet restaurant, far from the gadding crowd + of the White Light district.” + </p> + <p> + He rose, drawing back his chair; they walked to the elevator together. The + clerk beckoned politely. + </p> + <p> + “A gent named Mr. Warren telephoned to ask if you were home yet, Miss + Marigold. I told him not yet. Was that wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “It was very kind of you. Thank you so much,” and Helene's smile was the + cause of an uneasy flutter in the breast of the blase clerk. “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a lucky guy, at that, Jimmie,” confided the clerk to the bell-boy. + “She is some beauty show, ain't she? And she's on the right track, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yep, but she's too polite to be a great actress or a star. Her + temper'ment ain't mean enough!” responded this Solomon in brass buttons. + “I hopes we gits invited to the wedding!” + </p> + <p> + Outside, Shirley enjoyed the stimulus of the bracing early morning air. A + new inspiration seemed to fire him, altogether dissimilar to the glow + which he was wont to feel when plunging into a dangerous phase of a + professional case. He slowly drew from his pocket the typed note-paper + which had nestled in such enviable intimacy with that courageous heart. + The faint fragrance of her exquisite flesh clung to it still. He held it + to his lips and kissed it. Then he stopped, to turn about and look upward + at the tall hostelry behind him. High up below the renaissance cornice he + beheld the lights glow forth in the rooms which he knew were Helene's. + </p> + <p> + As he hurried to the club, he muttered angrily to himself: “I have made + one discovery, at least, in this unusual exploit. I find that I have lost + what common sense I possessed when I became a Freshman at college!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE RISING TIDE + </h2> + <p> + A hurried message to the Holland Agency brought four plain clothes men + from the private reserve, under the leadership of superintendent Cleary. + Monty met them at the doorway of the club house, wearing a rough and + tumble suit. + </p> + <p> + They sped downtown, toward the East River, the criminologist on the seat + where he could direct the driver. At Twenty-sixth Street, near the docks, + they dismounted and Shirley gave his directions to the detectives. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to slide along these doorways, working yourselves separately + down the water front until you are opposite the yacht club landing. I will + work on an independent line. You must get busy when I shoot, yell or + whistle,—I can't tell which. As the popular song goes, 'You're here + and I'm here, so what do we care?' This is a chance for the Holland Agency + to get a great story in the papers for saving young Van Cleft from the + kidnappers.” + </p> + <p> + He left them at the corner, and crossing to the other pavement, began to + stagger aimlessly down the street, looking for all the world like a + longshoreman returning home from a bacchanalian celebration from some + nearby Snug Harbor. It was a familiar type of pedestrian in this + neighborhood at this time of the morning. + </p> + <p> + “That guy's a cool one, Mike,” said Cleary to one of his men. “These + college ginks ain't so bad at that when you get to know 'em with their + dress-suits off.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a reg'lar feller, that's all,” was Mike's philosophical response. + “Edjication couldn't kill it in 'im.” + </p> + <p> + A hundred yards offshore was the beautiful steam yacht of the Van Clefts', + the “White Swan.” Lights on the deck and a few glowing portholes showed + unusual activity aboard. Shirley's hint to Warren about the contemplated + trip to southern climes was the exact truth. Naked truth, he had found, + was ofttimes a more valuable artifice than Munchausen artistry of the most + consummate craft! The longshoreman, apparently befuddled in his bearings, + wandered toward the dock, which protruded into the river, a part of the + club property. He staggered, tumbled and lay prostrate on the snowy + planks. + </p> + <p> + Then he crawled awkwardly toward one of the big spiles at the side of the + structure, where he passed into a profound slumber. This, too, was a + conventional procedure for the neighborhood! A man walked across the + street, from the darkness of a deserted hallway: he gave the somnolent one + a kick. The longshoreman grunted, rolled over, and continued to snore + obliviously. + </p> + <p> + An automobile honk-honked up Twenty-third Street, and then swung around in + a swift curve toward the dock. The investigating kicker slunk away, down + the street. The limousine drew up at the entrance to the tender gangway. + Accompanied by a portly servant, a young man in a fur coat, stepped from + the machine. + </p> + <p> + “Give them another call with your horn, Sam,” he directed. “The boat will + be in for me, then.” + </p> + <p> + This was done. A scraping noise came from the hanging stairway of the + dock, and a voice called up from the darkness: “Here we are, sir!” Howard + Van Cleft leaned over the edge and looked down, somewhat nervously. A + reassuring word came up from the boat, rocking against the spiles. + </p> + <p> + “You was a bit late, sir. You said three, Mr. Van Cleft, and now it's ten + after. So the captain sent us in to wait for you. Everything's shipshape, + sir, steam up, and all the supplies aboard. Climb right down the ladder, + sir. Steady now, lads!” + </p> + <p> + This seemed to presage good. Van Cleft turned to his butler. + </p> + <p> + “Take down the luggage, Edward. Goodbye, Sam. Keep an eye on the machines. + The folks will attend to everything for you while I am away. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + The butler had delivered the baggage and now returned up the ladder, + puffing with his exertions. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, sir,” and his voice was more emotional than usual. “Watch + yourself, sir, if you please, sir. You're the last Van Cleft, and we need + you, sir.” The old man touched his hat, and climbed into the automobile, + as Van Cleft climbed down the ladder. The machine sped away under the + skilful guidance of Sam. + </p> + <p> + “Steady, sir, steady—There, we have you now, sir,—Quick, men! + Up the river with the tide. Row like hell!—Keep your oars muffled—here + comes the other boat.” + </p> + <p> + All this seemed naturally the accompaniment of the embarkment of Van + Cleft's yachting cruise, but the sleeping longshoreman suddenly arose to + his feet and blew a shrill police whistle. Next instant the flash of his + pocket-lamp illumined the dark boat below him. A volley of curses greeted + this untoward action! A revolver barked from the hand of a big man in the + stern. Young Van Cleft lay face downward in the boat, neatly gagged and + bound. As the light still flickered over the surprised oarsmen, an + answering shot evidenced better aim. The man in the back of the bobbing + vessel groaned as he fell forward upon the prostrate body of the pinioned + millionaire. One oarsman disappeared over the side of the boat, to glide + into the unfathomable darkness, with skilful strokes. + </p> + <p> + “Hold still! I'll kill the first man who makes a move!” + </p> + <p> + As Shirley's voice rang out, Cleary with his assistants was dashing across + the open space to the end of the dock. + </p> + <p> + “Shove out that boat-hook and hold onto the dock!” was the additional + order, accompanied by a punctuation mark in the form of another bullet + which splintered the gunwale of the boat. Looking as they were, into the + dazzling eye of the bulb light, the men were uncertain of the number of + their assailants: surrender was natural. Cleary's men made quick work of + them. The boat from the yacht now hove to by this time, filled with + excited and profane sailormen. The skipper of the “White Swan,” revolver + drawn, stood in its bow as it bumped against the stairway. Howard Van + Cleft was unbound: dazed but happy he tried to talk. + </p> + <p> + “What—why—who?” he mumbled. + </p> + <p> + “Pat Cleary, from the Holland Detective Agency,” was Shirley's response. + “There, handcuff these men quick. Two cops are coming. We want the credit + of this job before the rookies beat us to it.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft recognized the speaker, and caught his hand fervently. Shirley, + though, was too busy for gratitude. He gave another quick direction. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry on board your yacht tender and get underway. Your life isn't worth + a penny if you stay in town another hour. These men will be attended to. + Good luck and goodbye.” + </p> + <p> + The young man rapidly transferred his luggage to his own boat. They were + soon out of view on their way to the larger vessel. Shirley turned toward + Cleary. + </p> + <p> + “I'll file the charge against these two men. They tried to rob me and make + their getaway in this boat. You were down here as a bodyguard for Van + Cleft, who, of course, knew nothing about the matter as he left for his + cruise. So his name can be kept out of it entirely. And the fact that you + helped to save him from paying fifty thousand dollars in blackmail, will + not injure the size of Captain Cronin's bill. Get me?” + </p> + <p> + “It's got!” laughed Cleary. + </p> + <p> + Two patrolmen were dumfounded when they reached the spot to find four men + in handcuffs in charge of six armed guardians. The superintendent + explained the situation as laid out by Shirley. The cavalcade took its way + to the East Twenty-first Street Police Station, where the complaint was + filed. Sullen and perplexed about their failure, the men were all locked + in their cells, after their leader had his shoulder dressed by an interne + summoned from the nearby Bellevue Hospital. + </p> + <p> + Shirley and Cleary returned with the others to the waiting automobile, + after these formalities. The prisoners had been given the customary + opportunity to telephone to friends, but strangely enough did not avail + themselves of it. + </p> + <p> + “We're cutting down the ranks of the enemy, Cleary,” observed the + detective as he lit a cigarette. “But I wonder who it was that escaped in + the water?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll be next in the net. But say, Mr. Shirley, what percentage do you + get for all this work, I'm awondering?” was the answering query. The + criminologist laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my dear man, simply thanks. That's a rare thing for a well-to-do + man to get since the I.W.W. proved to the world that it's a crime for a + man to own more than ten dollars, or even to earn it! But I wish you would + drop me off about half a block from the Somerset Apartments, on + Fifty-sixth Street. I want to watch for a late arrival.” + </p> + <p> + He waited in the shadows of the houses on the opposite side of the street. + After half an hour he was rewarded by the sight of Mr. Shine Taylor + dismounting from a taxicab. The young gentleman wore a heavy overcoat over + a bedraggled suit. One of his snowy spats was missing; his hat was + dripping, still, from its early immersion. He entered the building, after + a cautious survey of the deserted street, with a stiff and exhausted gait. + </p> + <p> + Shirley was satisfied with this new knot in the string. He returned to his + rooms at the club, to gain fresh strength for the trailing on the morrow. + And this time, he felt that he deserved his rest! + </p> + <p> + Next morning, after his usual plunge and rub-down, he ordered breakfast in + his rooms. He instructed the clerk to send up a Remwood typewriter, and + began his experiments with the code of the diary. + </p> + <p> + From an old note-book, in which were tabulated the order of letter + recurrences according to their frequency in ordinary English words, he + freshened his memory. This was the natural sequence, in direct ratio to + the use of the letters: “E: T: A: O: N: I: S: B: M, etc.” The use of “E” + was double that of any other. Yet on the pages of the book he found that + the most frequently recurring symbol was “R” which was, ordinarily, one of + the least used in the alphabet. “T,” which would have been second in + popularity, naturally, was seen only a few times in proportion. “Y,” also + seldom used, appeared very often. The symbol “A” was used with surprising + frequency. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” he mused. “This code is strictly typewritten. It must be + arranged on some mechanical twist of the typing method. A is used so many + times that it might be safe to assume that it is used for a space, as all + the words in this code run together. If A is used that way, what takes its + place? S would by rights be seventh on the list, but the average I have + made shows that it is about third or fourth.” + </p> + <p> + Carefully he jotted down in separate columns on a piece of paper the + individual repetitions of letters on the page of “January 7, 1915.” He + arrived at the conclusion, then, that “R” was used for “E,” that “S” took + the place of “A” and that “Y” alternated in this cipher for “T” which was + second on his little list. + </p> + <p> + Fur the benefit of the reader who may be interested enough to work out + this little problem, along the lines of Shirley's deductions the + arrangement of the so-called “Standard” keyboard is here shown, as it was + on the “Number Four” machine of Warren's Remwood, and the duplicate + machine which Shirley was using. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Q W E R T Y U I O P + + A S D F G H J K L; + + Z X C V B N M,. + + Shift SPACE BAR Shift + Key Key +</pre> + <p> + This diagram represents the “lower case” or small letters, capitals being + made by holding down one of the shift keys on either side, and striking + the other letter at the same time, there being two symbols on each metal + type key. As only small letters were used through the code Shirley did not + bother about the capitals. He realized at last, that if his theory of + substitution were correct the writer had struck the key to the right of + the three frequent letters. He had the inception of the scheme. + </p> + <p> + Starting with the first line of the sentences so jumbled on the page for + January 7, 1915, he began to reverse the operation, copying it off, + hitting on the typewriter the keyboard letter to the left of the one + indicated in the order of the cipher. + </p> + <p> + The result was gratifying. He continued for several lines, having trouble + only with the letter “P.” At last he realized that the only substitution for + that could be “Q.” In other words, “A” had been used for the space letter + throughout, and for all the other symbols the one on the right had been + struck, except “P” which being at the end of the line had been merely + swung to the first letter on the other end of it! + </p> + <p> + No wonder Warren had been so confident of its baffling simplicity! Many of + the well-known rules for reading codes would not work with this one, and + had it not been for Shirley's suspicion, aroused in the library of the + arch-schemer the night before, he would hardly have given the typewriter, + as a mechanical aide, a second thought. Warren's desire to drop the + subject of machines had planted a dangerous seed. + </p> + <p> + Laboriously Shirley typed off the material of the entire page for the + fatal Thursday, and his elation knew no bounds as he realized that here + was a key to many of the activities of his enemy. He donned his hat and + coat and hurried over to the Hotel California to show his discovery to + Helene. She invited him up to her suite at once, where he wasted no words + but exhibited the triumphant result of his efforts. He handed her his own + transcription, and this is what she read: + </p> + <p> + “January 7, 1915, Thursday. + </p> + <p> + “learned from bank de cleyster drew six thousand in morning monk assigned + to taxi work for tea shine assigned to fix generator margie fairfax date + with de cleyster at five, shine and joe hawley covering game jake and ben + assigned black car for me paid phil one hundred covering special work job + finished riverside drive at eighty third sharp deposited night and day + four thousand safe deposit fifteen hundred lent dolly marion two hundred + for dress for party with van cleft next afternoon advanced shine one + thousand to cover option of yacht sunbeam paid to broker that night + ordered provisions telephone for yacht two month cruise monk assigned for + job next day advanced shine five hundred on account work on wellington + serral matter repairs black machine fifty party apartment same night + champagne one hundred fifty caterer one hundred tips fifty five to janitor + taxis twelve must stir phil up on work for grimsby matter memorandum + arrange for yacht mooring on east river instead of north after wednesday + eighth job finis memorandum settle telephone exchange proceeds not later + than monday paid electrician special wiring two hundred in full + settlement.” + </p> + <p> + “There, Miss Helene, how do you like my little game of letter building?” + </p> + <p> + There was a boyish gleam of triumph in his smile as he turned toward her. + </p> + <p> + “You are a wizard, but how did you work it all out?” There was no smile in + her face, only a mingled horror at the revelations of this calculating + monster in his businesslike murder work, and an unfeigned admiration for + Shirley's keenness. + </p> + <p> + “A very old method, but one which would have availed for naught without + your help. The letter paper which you used and the unmistakable identity + of Warren's machine are two more bars of iron with which to imprison him. + The paper of that note is the same on which they wrote to Van Ceft for + money, and their threats to me. This shows from a microscopic examination + of its texture. I will give the whole book to a trustworthy stenographer: + more than six months of these little confessions are tabulated here. + Warren was evidently so used to this code that he could write in it as + easily as I do with the straight alphabet. His training in German + universities developed a thoroughness, a methodical recording of every + thing, which is apt to cost him dearly. And his undoubted vanity prompted + him to have a little volume of his own in that library to which he could + turn occasionally for the retrospection of his own cleverness. Now, I must + investigate this clever telephone system. I think I have the clue + necessary.” + </p> + <p> + He intrusted the book to Helene for the morning, promising to return in an + hour or two with new information, drolly refusing to tell her his + destination. + </p> + <p> + “You're a bad, bold boy, and should be spanked, for not letting some one + know where to look for you in case you get into difficulties,” she pouted. + “Perhaps I will do some equally foolish thing myself.” + </p> + <p> + “If you knew how you frightened me yesterday!” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Did you really worry and really care?” But Shirley had slipped out of the + door, leaving her to wonder, and then begin that long delayed letter to + Jack. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. AN EXPEDITION UNDERGROUND + </h2> + <p> + The criminologist picked his way through the swarming vehicles which swung + up and down Broadway, across to Seventh Avenue, where he turned into a + plumber's shop. This fellow had handled small jobs on Shirley's extensive + real estate holdings, and he was naturally delighted to do a favor in the + hope of obtaining new work. + </p> + <p> + “Mike, I want to borrow an old pair of overalls, a jumper and one of those + blue caps hanging up on your wall. And I need some plumbers' tools, as + well, for a little joke I am to play on one of my friends.” + </p> + <p> + The workman was astounded at such a request from his rich client, but + nodded willingly. The dirtiest of the clothes answered Shirley's + requirements and with soot rubbed over his face and hands, his hair + disarranged, he satisfied his artistic craving for detail. He was + transformed into a typical leadpipe brigand. Hanging his own garments in + the closet, after transferring his automatic revolver into the pocket of + the jeans, he started out, carrying the furnace pot, and looking like a + union-label article. + </p> + <p> + He reached the Somerset by a roundabout walk, passing more than one of his + acquaintances with inward amusement at their failure to recognize him. He + had arranged for Helene to invite Shine Taylor and Reginald Warren down to + call on her at the apartment in the California at this particular time. So + thus he felt that the coast was clear. At the tradesmen's entrance, where + he had gone before to hoist on the dumbwaiter, he entered the building. An + investigation of the basement showed him that in the rear of the building + were one large and two small courts or air shafts. Then he ascended the + iron stairway to the street level of the vestibule. + </p> + <p> + “Say, bo, I come to fix de pipes on de second floor,” was his + self-introduction to the haughty negro attendant. “Dey're leakin' an' me + boss tells me to git on de job in a hustle.” + </p> + <p> + “Which one? I ain't heard o' no leaks. It must be in de empty apartment in + de rear, kase dat old maid in de front would been kickin' my fool head off + ef she's had any trouble. She's always grouchy.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, dingy, it's de empty one in de rear. Lemme in an' I'll fix it.” + </p> + <p> + “You-all better see de superintendent. People is apt to be lookin' at dat + apartment to-day to rent it, an' he mightn't want no plumber mussin' + round. I'll go hunt 'im fer you-all.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, you jest lemme in now. I'm paid by de hour. You knows what plumber + bills is, an' your superintendent'll fire you if he has to pay ten + dollars' overtime 'cause you hold me up.” + </p> + <p> + This was superior logic. The negro took him up and opened the door. + Shirley entered, and peered out of the court window in the rear. Helene's + suggestion about the dust was applicable here, for he found all the + windows coated except the one opening upon the areaway. Below he observed + a stone paving with a cracked surface. It was semidark, but his electric + pocket-light enabled him to observe one piece of the rock which seemed + entirely detached. Shirley investigated the closets of the empty + apartment. In one of them he discovered the object of his search. It was a + knotted rope. He first observed the exact way in which it had been folded + in order to replace it without suspicion being aroused. Then he took it to + the small window of the air shafts hanging it on a hook which was half + concealed behind the ledge. Down this he lowered himself, hand over hand. + The stone was quickly lifted—it was hinged on the under surface. In + the dark hole which was before him there was an iron ladder. Down he went, + into the utter blackness. His outstretched hands apprised him that he was + at the beginning of a walled tunnel, through which he groped in a + half-upright position. He reached an iron door, and remembering his + direction calculated that this must be at the rear entrance of the old + garage on West Fifty-fifth Street. It opened, as he swung a heavy iron + bar, fitted with a curious mechanism resembling the front of a safe. + Softly he entered, carrying his heavy boots in his hand. All was still + within, and he shot the glow ray of his little lamp about him. As the + reader may guess, it was the rear room of Warren's private spider-web! The + table, facing the screen was surmounted by an ingenious telephone + switchboard. + </p> + <p> + Shirley examined this closely. The various plugs were labelled: “Rector,” + “Flatbush,” “Jersey City,” “Main,” “Morningside,” and other names which + Shirley recognized as “central” stations of the telephone company. Here + was the partial solution of the mysterious calls. He determined to test + the service! + </p> + <p> + He took up the telephone receiver and sent the plug into the orifice under + the label, “Co.” wondering what that might be. Soon there was an answer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Chief. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “How's everything?” was Shirley's hoarse remark. “I find connections bad + in the Bronx? What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll send one of the outside men up there to see, Chief. There's a new + exchange manager there, and he may be having the wires inspected. But my + tap is on the cable behind the building. I don't see how he could get + wise.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley smiled at this inadvertent betrayal of the system: wire tapping + with science. He was able to trap the confederate with his own mesh of + copper now. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see you right away. Some cash for you. I'm sick with a cold in + the throat so don't keep me waiting. Go up town and stand in the doorway + at 192 West Forty-first Street. Don't let anybody see you while you wait + there, so keep back out of sight. How soon can you be there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, in half an hour if I hurry. Any trouble? You certainly have a bum + voice, Chief. But how will I know it's you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll just say, 'Telephone,' and then you come right along with me, to a + place I have in mind. Don't be late, now! Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley drew out the connection and tried the exchange labelled “Rector.” + Instantly a pleasant girl's voice inquired the number desired. + </p> + <p> + “Bryant 4802-R.” + </p> + <p> + This was the Hotel California. + </p> + <p> + The operator on the switchboard of the hostelry replied. + </p> + <p> + “Give me Miss Marigold's apartment, please.” + </p> + <p> + Helene's voice was soon on the wire. Shirley asked for Warren in a gruff + tone. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” was that gentleman's musical inquiry, in the tones + which were already so familiar to the criminologist. + </p> + <p> + “Chief, dis is de Rat. I wants to meet you down at de Blue Goose on Water + Street in half an hour. Kin you'se come? It's important.” + </p> + <p> + The other was evidently mystified. + </p> + <p> + “The Rat? What do you mean? I don't know you. Ring off!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley heard the other receiver click. He held the wire, reasoning out + the method of the intriguer. Soon there was a buzz in his ear, and + Warren's voice came to him. It was droll, this reversal of the original + method, which had been so puzzling. + </p> + <p> + “What number is this?” + </p> + <p> + “Rector 4471, sir,” answered the criminologist in the best falsetto tone + he could muster. Then he disconnected with a smile. This was turning the + tables with a vengeance. But he knew that he must be getting away from the + den before the possible investigation by Warren or his lieutenant. There + were many things he would have liked to study about the place. But his + curiosity about the telephone had made it impossible for him to remain. It + was a costly mistake, as events were destined to prove! + </p> + <p> + He hurried out of the compartment, into the tunnel, up the rope and + through the window. He replaced the knotted rope, exactly as it had been + before. He put a few drippings of molten lead from the bubbling pot, under + the wash-stand of the bathroom, to carry out the illusion of his work as + plumber. Then he departed from the building, as he had entered. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes he was changing his garments in Mike's plumbing shop, with + a fabulous story of the excruciating joke he had played upon a sick + friend. Then he walked rapidly to the doorway at 192 West Forty-first + Street. + </p> + <p> + Back against the wall of this empty store entry, lounged a + pleasant-looking young man who puffed at a perfecto. Shirley stepped in, + and in a low tone, said: “Telephone.” The other started visibly, and + scrutinized the well-groomed club man from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Chief, you're a surprise. I never thought you looked like that. + Where will we go?” + </p> + <p> + “Over to the gambling house a friend of mine runs, just around the corner. + There we can talk in quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley led the way, restraining the smile which itched to betray his + enjoyment of the situation. The other studied him with sidelong glances of + unabated astonishment. They were soon going up the steps of the Holland + Agency, which looked for all the world, with its closed shutters, and + quiet front, like a retreat for the worshipers of Dame Fortune. Cronin + fortunately did not believe in signs. So the young man was not suspicious, + even when Shirley gave three knocks upon the door, to be admitted by the + sharp-nosed guardian of the portal. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Cleary to come downstairs, Nick,” said the criminologist. “I want + him to meet a friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + The superintendent was soon speeding two steps at a time. + </p> + <p> + “The Captain is back, Mr. Shirley,” he exclaimed. “He's in the private + office on a couch.” + </p> + <p> + “Good, then we'll take my friend right to him.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger was beginning to evidence uneasiness, and he turned + questioningly to his conductor, with a growing frown. + </p> + <p> + “Say, what are you leading me into, Chief?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley said nothing but strode to the rear of the floor, through the door + of Captain Cronin's sanctum. The old detective was covered with a steamer + shawl, as he stretched out on a davenport. The young man observed the + photographs around the room,—an enormous collection of + double-portraits of profile and front face views—the advertized + crooks for whom Cronin had his nets spread in a dozen cases. The handcuffs + on the desk, the measuring stand, the Bertillon instruments on the table, + all these aroused his suspicions instantly. + </p> + <p> + He whirled about, angrily. + </p> + <p> + Shirley smiled in his face. Then he addressed the surprised Captain + Cronin. + </p> + <p> + “Here is our little telephone expert who arranged the wires for Warren and + his gang, Captain. You are welcome to add him to your growing collection + of prisoners.” + </p> + <p> + For answer the young man whipped out a revolver and fired point-blank at + the criminologist. His was a ready trigger finger. But he was no swifter + than the convalescent detective on the couch, who had swung a six shooter + from a mysterious fold of the steamer blanket, and planted a bullet into + the man's shoulder from the rear. + </p> + <p> + As the smoke cleared away, Shirley straightened up from the crouching + position on the floor which had saved him from the assassin, and dragged + the wounded criminal to his feet. The handcuffs clicked about his wrists + before the young man had grasped the entire situation. Cleary and three + others of the private force were in the room. + </p> + <p> + “I've got to hurry along now, Captain. Just let him know that his Chief is + captured and the sooner he turns State's evidence the better it will be + for him. The District Attorney might make it lighter, if he helps. I'll be + back this evening if I can.” And Shirley hurried away, leaving much + surprise and bewilderment in every mind. + </p> + <p> + Cronin was equal to the task of picking up the threads, and under his + sarcasm, and Cleary's rough arguments, the prisoner admitted some + interesting matters about the mysterious employer whose face he had never + seen. But Shirley's task was far from completed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. A DOUBLE ON THE TRAIL + </h2> + <p> + Shirley walked up to the Hotel California, at the door of which he met + Warren and Taylor just leaving. They looked somewhat embarrassed but his + manner was cordiality itself. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry you are going. I was just stepping up to see Miss Marigold. Won't + you come back?” + </p> + <p> + His invitation was refused. Then Shirley urged Warren to be his guest at + the club for dinner that evening. This was accepted with a surprising + alacrity. So, he left them, and was soon talking with Helene. + </p> + <p> + “You missed a curious little sociable party,” she assured him. “They tried + to quiz me, and I confess that I worked for the same purpose—no + results on either side. But, Warren had an unusual telephone call, which + disturbed him so much that he hurried away, sooner than he had planned.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley recounted his explorations of the afternoon, with the explanation + of Reginald's disturbance. It was certain now that the leader of the + assassins had something to cause uneasiness,—enough to take his mind + off the campaign of murder and blackmail. + </p> + <p> + “But he will try to get you out of the way,” was her anxious answer. “You + are multiplying needless dangers. Why don't you have him arrested now—the + phonograph records will identify his voice, will they not? The diary will + show his career, and everything seems complete in the case.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley sat down in the window-seat, before replying. + </p> + <p> + “It is just my own vanity, then, perhaps. I am foolish enough to believe + that I can trap him on some crime which will give him the complete + punishment he deserves without dragging in the names of these unfortunate + old society men. All our trouble would be for nothing, just now, if the + story came out. The phonograph records helped me—but I prefer to + keep that method to myself, as a matter of interest and selfishness. + Somewhere, in that beautiful apartment of his there must be clues which + will send him to the electric chair on former crimes: Warren is an artist + who has handled other brushes than the ones he used on this masterpiece. + He is not a beginner. So, I must ransack his apartment.” + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible, with all the care he takes with bolts and locks.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see. Meanwhile, I'll spin the yarn of the last thirty-six hours. + I'm sure your curiosity is whetted: my own is by no means satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + So he gave her a survey of the progress he had made. Helene brought forth + a number of typewritten pages which she had transcribed from the diary, + proudly exhibiting a machine which she had ordered sent up from the hotel + office. + </p> + <p> + “There, sir, we are unwinding the ravelings of his past life to an extent. + I have found a mysterious reference to a Montfluery case in Paris, during + August of last year. What can you do to investigate that lead?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley jotted down the name, and answered: “A cable to the prefecture of + Police of the city of Paris from Captain Cronin will bring details. That + should be an added link in the chain, within the next twenty-four hours. I + am going to leave you for the while, as I wish to investigate a certain + yacht which is moored in the East River. That yacht is there for a purpose—you + remember his reference to the payment of supplies for a two-month cruise. + My amateurish vanity leads me to a hope that I can capture him just at the + crucial moment when he thinks he is successful in his escape from + pursuit.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the childishness of the masculine mind,” retorted Helene. “You + say we women are illogical, but we are essentially practical in the small + things. I would advise closing the doors before the horse escapes, rather + than a chase from behind!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” answered Monty, “but the uncertainty does allure me. I always + enjoyed skating on thin ice, from the days of college when I loved to get + through a course of lectures on as little work as possible. The + satisfaction of 'getting away with it' against odds was so exhilarating. I + will return after my little dinner with Warren at the Club. Where will you + dine?” + </p> + <p> + “Your friend Dick Holloway is taking me to some restaurant where singing + and music may alter my refusal to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Your refusal?” and Shirley shot a quick glance at the girl. Her dimples + appeared as she added: “Yes—he wants me to star in a little play for + the coming spring, but I have had such fun playing in real-life drama that + I said him nay.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” was all the criminologist said, but as he left, Helene's laugh + interpretated a little feminine satisfaction. Monty's mind was just + disturbed enough about the attitude of Dick Holloway to keep him from + worrying over the Warren case until he had reached the East River, near + the yacht club mooring. + </p> + <p> + There was the white yacht which had been mentioned in the purloined book. + It was a trim, speedy craft. The criminologist walked down a few blocks to + the office of a boat contractor with whom he had dealt on bygone + occasions. + </p> + <p> + “I want to engage a fast motor-boat, Mr. Manby,” was his request. “The + speediest thing you've got. Keep it down at your dock, at Twenty-first + Street, with plenty of gasoline and a man on duty all the time, starting + with six o'clock to-night. I may need it at a minute's notice.” + </p> + <p> + “I've got a hydroplane which I'll sell this spring to some yachtsman,” + said Manby. “It's a bargain—you can do forty miles an hour in it, + without getting a drop of spray. Shall I show it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and the two men who you will have alternating on duty, so they will + know me when I come for it. I'll pay for every minute it is reserved.” + </p> + <p> + They soon came to terms; the men were introduced and Shirley was well + satisfied with the racing craft, which was moored according to his + directions, handy for a quick embarkation. + </p> + <p> + Then he went up to the Holland Agency. Cronin was disappointed in his + results with the telephone confederate. All of Warren's men were + close-mouthed, as though through some biting fear of swift and unerring + vengeance for “squealing.” Even the prisoners in the station-house had not + volunteered to communicate with friends, as they were allowed to do by + law. They were “standing pat,” as the old detective declared in disgust. + </p> + <p> + “That proves one thing,” remarked the criminologist. “They are not local + products, or they would have friends other than their chief on whom to + call for bail or aid. Their whole work centers on him. I think I will send + a code message to this man Phil this afternoon or evening. He may be able + to read it, and if he does, it may assist us. I wish you would have a man + call on Miss Marigold at the California Hotel, so that she may know his + face. Then keep him covering her for they are apt to get suspicious of her + and try to quiet her. She is a game and fearless girl, but she is no match + for this gang.” + </p> + <p> + Cronin assigned one of the men immediately, and the sleuth took up a note + of introduction to Helene, in which Monty explained the need for his + watch. + </p> + <p> + Shirley then repaired to the club house to await his dinner guest. He was + thoughtful about the alacrity of Warren to dine with him. There was more + to this assumed friendliness than the mere desire to talk to him. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if he wants to keep me occupied for some certain reason?” + pondered the club man. “Helene is protected now by a silent watcher. The + members of the Lobster Club are all out of the city. Van Cleft is safe on + the ocean. They must be laying a trap. I wonder where that trap would be?” + </p> + <p> + As he looked about his rooms he realized that many important pieces of + evidence were locked up in his chests and the small safe. His bedroom, in + the uppermost floor of the club building, was in a quiet and less + frequented part of the house. Shirley summoned one of the shrewd Japanese + valets who worked on the dormitory floors of the building. + </p> + <p> + “Chen,” he began. “Are you a good fighter?” + </p> + <p> + The Mongolian grinned characteristically. Shirley took out a bill, and + handed it to the little fellow. + </p> + <p> + “I have reason to think some one may come into my rooms to-night, while I + am busy downstairs. How would you like to lock yourself on the inside of + my clothes closet, and wait? The air is not very good, but with this ten + dollars you could take a nice ride in the country to-morrow, and get lots + of good oxygen in your lungs to make up for it.” + </p> + <p> + Chen was a willing little self-jailer. Shirley handed him his own + revolver, and the slant eyes sparkled with glee at the opportunity for + some excitement. Americans may carp at the curious manners and alleged + shortcomings of the Oriental, but personal fear does not seem to be in the + category of their faults. So, with this little valet, who improved his + time, as Shirley had discovered, by taking special courses in Columbia + University's scientific department. The criminologist had used him on more + than one occasion when Eastern subtlety and apparent lack of guile had + accomplished the impossible! + </p> + <p> + The closet door was closed, and Shirley went downstairs. At the desk of + the, club clerk he sent a cablegram to the police authorities of Paris. + The message was simple + </p> + <p> + “Cable collect to Holland Detective Agency name and record of man in + Montfleury case, August, 1914. Do you want him?................. Cronin, + Captain.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley smiled as he handed the envelope to the little messenger who had + been summoned, and made his exit through the front doorway just as the + affable Reginald Warren entered it: another instance of “ships that pass + in the night,” was the thought of the host who advanced courteously. + </p> + <p> + “You are on time to the minute: German training, I see. Let the boy have + your hat and coat, Mr. Warren.” + </p> + <p> + These little amenities completed, they sauntered about the beautiful + building, Shirley pointing out the many interesting photographs of + athletic teams, trophies, club posters, portraits of famous graduates, and + the like, which seem part and parcel of collegiate atmosphere. Warren was + profoundly interested, yet there was an abstraction in his conversation + which was not unobserved by his entertainer. As they passed a tall, + colonial clock in the broad hallway, Shirley caught him glancing uneasily + at it. This was the second time he had looked at its silvered face since + they came into the range of it. Purposely the club man took him down the + length of the big dining-hall, to exhibit the trophies of the hunt, from + jungles and polar regions, contributed by the sportsmen members of past + classes. Here Shirley chatted about this and that boar's head, yonder + elephant hide, the other tiger skin, until he had consumed additional + time. As they passed into the lounging room Shirley led his guest past + another small mahogany clock. Again the sharp, anxious glance at the + progress of the minutes. He was convinced by now that some deviltry was + being perfected on schedule time. He began to worry over his little + assistant on the floor high above: perhaps he would not be able to cope + with the plotters, after all. Yet, Chen was wiry, cunning, and needed no + diagrams as to the purpose for which he was to guard the rooms. + </p> + <p> + At last Shirley led Warren to the grill-room where they ordered their + dinner: the supreme test of a gentleman is his taste in the menu for a + discriminating guest. Warren sensed this, as the delicious viands and rare + old wines were brought out in a combination which would have warmed the + heart cockles of the fussiest old gourmon from Goutville! + </p> + <p> + “Ah, a feast fit for the gods,” were his admiring words, as the two men + smiled across this strange board of hospitality. In the midst of the meal, + their chat of student days was interrupted by a page who approached + Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “Begging your pardon, sir, but I have a note which was left here by + messenger for a gentleman named Mr. R. Warren; your guest, I believe, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + Warren's face flushed, and his surprise was indubitable. He snatched the + envelope from the boy, who had reached it toward Shirley. The + criminologist was no less in the dark. Warren, with a scant apology, tore + open the missive. It was typewritten! He read it, and his brows came + together with an angry scowl. + </p> + <p> + He arose from his seat swiftly, turning toward Shirley with a nervous + twitching of the erstwhile firm lips. + </p> + <p> + “Would you pardon me if I ran? A Wall Street client of mine has suddenly + been stricken with apoplexy. We have deals together, dependent upon + gentlemen's agreements, without a word of writing. It may mean a fortune + to get to him before he loses all power of speech. It is a shame to spoil, + at this time, such a wonderful dinner as I had promised myself with you. + Can you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + The man was visibly panic-stricken, although his superb nerve was fighting + hard to cover his terror. Shirley wondered what news could have fallen + into his hand this way. He watched the envelope, hoping that he would + inadvertently drop it. But no such luck! Warren carefully folded it and + put it with the letter into the breast pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, business before indigestion, always! I am sorry to have + you go, but we will try again. I will go upstairs with you. Shall I call a + taxicab for you?” + </p> + <p> + Warren expostulated, but the host followed him to the check room. Unseen + by Warren, Shirley inserted a handkerchief from his own pocket into the + overcoat pocket of the other with a sleight-of-hand substitution, in the + withdrawal of the guest's small linen square! + </p> + <p> + Warren rushed to the door. He sprang into the first taxicab that came + along, and disappeared. Shirley watched the car as it raced away and + noticed its number. He turned to the door man. + </p> + <p> + “Whose machine was that? On the regular club stand here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. A man named Perkins drives it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it return here as soon as the fare is taken to the end of the trip?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, they have orders for that. They belong to a gent who supplies + cars for our club exclusively, sir. They are not allowed to take outside + passengers.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good! You send for me, in my rooms, as soon as the driver of the car + shows up. I want to find out where he went.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley hurried up in the lift to his own floor. He went to the door of + his room, and tried to open it with his key. It was bolted from inside! + There came a muffled report from within. Then he heard a cry, which he + recognized as the voice of Chen, the Jap. He dropped to the floor, + listening at the crack—a scuffle was in progress within! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. A BURGLARY FOR JUSTICE + </h2> + <p> + Shirley rose, and once more applied that gridiron-trained boot of his: + this time to the lock of the door. Two doses resulted in a complete cure + for its obstinacy. As he rushed into the room, he saw a figure swing out + of the window on a dangling rope. He hesitated—the desire to chase + this intruder to the roof of the club struggled with his duty to the + unfortunate Jap, who lay on the floor, where he was being garroted by a + burly ruffian in a chauffeur's habiliments. He sprang toward his little + assistant, and made quick work of the big man. + </p> + <p> + As he threw the other, with one of his “silencer” twists of the neck + cords, the Jap sprang up. A demoniac anger twisted that usually smiling + countenance, and it took all of Shirley's strength, to wrest away the + automatic revolver from the maddened valet, to prevent swift revenge. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Chen. He's caught. Don't shoot him now!” + </p> + <p> + Chen, with a voluble stream of Nagasaki profanity, spluttered in rage, and + strove like a bantam rooster to get at his antagonist. The necessity for + quieting him to prevent bloodshed was fatal to the pursuit of the other + man, as Shirley realized bitterly. The servants were running to the room + by this time. The club steward opened the battered door, and Shirley + turned to explain. + </p> + <p> + “You have a brave little man, here, Cushman. Chen heard this burglar in my + room, and tried to capture him at the risk of his own life. He deserves + promotion and a raise in salary. Go downstairs and call the police. We'll + have this fellow locked up!” + </p> + <p> + The man glared at Shirley, and rubbed his throat which throbbed from the + vice-like grip of the jiu-jitsu. Chen still breathed hard and his almond + eyes rolled nervously. At last he was quiet again, although the slender + fingers twitched hungrily for a clawing of that dirty neck. Shirley patted + him on the back. Judgment had come to another of the gangsters, and the + criminologist was pleased at the diminution in the ranks of his opponent. + </p> + <p> + An examination of his cabinet and dresser drawers showed that the + pillaging had barely begun when Chen popped out of his hiding-place. It + was no wonder that Warren had been so solicitous as to the speeding time: + intuition had once more intervened to interrupt these well-laid schemes. + </p> + <p> + The little Jap could tell barely more of his adventure than that he had + opened the door when he heard men walking and talking in the room. Then + the struggle had ensued, with the result already described. + </p> + <p> + Now, indeed, was Shirley more puzzled than ever at Warren's sudden + departure. It had upset the plans of the conspirators: it was an unwelcome + surprise to their Chief. And furthermore it had interfered with a little + scheme of the criminologist by which he had expected to craftily imprison + his guest for the remainder of the night. + </p> + <p> + The room was put in order—not much was there to rearrange, for the + tussle had come so promptly. With a final look at his belongings, Shirley + left Chen in charge, not forgetting to slip to him another reward for his + courage. + </p> + <p> + Then he went downstairs and hurried over to the Hotel California to hold a + conference of war with Helene Marigold. + </p> + <p> + She was nervous, as she greeted him. Yet a subtle smile on her face showed + that she was not surprised by the visit. Shirley quickly outlined the + occurrences of the dinner hour. When he asked her opinion, for he had + learned to place a growing trust in her quick grasp of things, she walked + silently to her typewriter. + </p> + <p> + “Here, sir, is a little note which may amuse you.” + </p> + <p> + She handed him a piece of paper. It read: + </p> + <p> + “Chief: The Monk has turned up at the Blue Goose on Water Street. He is + drunk and telling all he knows. Come down at once to help us quiet him. + Hurry or every thing will be known. You know who.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley looked at the message, and then with tilted eyebrows at his fair + companion. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about the Blue Goose?” he asked. “And the Monk? For I + presume that you wrote this out?” + </p> + <p> + “Your presumption is correct. I remembered hearing Warren ask Taylor this + afternoon after that telephone call from you, where the Blue Goose saloon + could be. Taylor told him it was a sailor's dive on Water Street. The + night they thought me dreaming on his library couch, I heard Taylor ask + Warren if they had heard from the Monk. So, it seemed to me that the two + questions might interest Mr. Reginald Warren if presented in a language + that he understood.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was that language?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a code message, which I typed out on this Remwood machine here, by + the system you told me. It was slow work, but I finished it and sent it + over to the club, knowing Warren would be with you. I really don't know + what good the message would do. But being an illogical woman, and a + descendant of Pandora, I thought it would be amusing to open the Pandora's + box and let all the little devils loose, just to see the glitter of their + wings!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley caught her hands delightedly. + </p> + <p> + “You bully girl! Nothing could have happened better. I'll improve my time + now, by visiting Mr. Warren's apartment, impolite as it is without an + invitation. And then I think I will go calling in that little cave of the + winds in the rear of his art collection, on the other street.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Monty—I Mean, Mr. Shirley,” and a rosy embarrassment overcame + her, “you will put your head into the lion's mouth once too often. Why not + wait until you get him under lock and key?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl, we will telephone my club and talk to the door man. I think + that he may be under lock and key by this time, in a manner you little + suspect. Let me have the number.” + </p> + <p> + He went to the instrument on her dressing-table. The club was soon + reached, and Dan the door man was answering his eager question. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, the taxi has come back, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Send the chauffeur to the wire. I want to talk to him,” said Shirley. The + man was soon speaking. “What address did you take that gentleman to, my + man?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, I started out for the Battery, but sir, a terrible thing + happened.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman was overcome with an ep'leptic stroke or somethin' like + that. He pounded on the winder behind me, and when I stopped me car, and + looked in he was down an' out. I was on Thirty-third Street and Fift' + Avenue at the time, so I calls a cop, and he orders me to run 'im over to + Bellevue. He's there now, sir. He ain't hardly breathin', sir. It's + terrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad, I must go and call, to see if I can help him!” was Shirley's + remark as he hung up the receiver. He repeated the news to Helene. Her + eyes sparkled, as she said: “Ah, those symptoms resemble the ones you told + me which came from that amo-amas-amat-citron, or whatever it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite such a loving lemon, Miss Marigold,” he chuckled. “Amyl + nitrite. The same soothing syrup which quieted our would-be robbers on + Sixth Avenue, that night when we left his apartment. It will wear off in + about three hours. I had a little glass container folded in my own + handkerchief, which I put in his overcoat pocket as a parting souvenir, + crushing it as I did so. I reasoned that undue anxiety which he displayed + might cause him to mop his brow, close to that student-duel scar. One + smell of the chemical on that handkerchief, in the quantity which I gave, + was enough to quiet his worries. Now for the Somerset Apartment.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “It is eight fifteen. I want you to telephone up to Warren's apartment + exactly at ten o'clock. Tell them—there should be a them, that I + have been overcome in your apartment, and that they are the only people + who can help you, or who know you. I believe that the idea of finding me + unconscious, and getting me away will bring any and all of his friends who + may be there. If Taylor is there with others, he will hardly leave them in + the place when he goes. What I want is to be sure that the coast is + cleared of people at that hour. Then I will make an investigation into his + papers and other matters of interest. Can I count on you?” + </p> + <p> + A reproachful pouting of the scarlet lips was the only answer. Shirley + left, this time hurrying uptown to a certain engine-house, whose fire + captain he had known quite well in the old reportorial days. + </p> + <p> + It was beginning to snow once more. And as Shirley slipped out of the + engine-house, carrying a scaling ladder which he had borrowed after much + persuasion from his good-natured friend, he thanked his luck for this + natural veiling of the night, to baffle eyes too curious about the + campaign he had planned. He knew the posts of the policemen on this + street, and sedulously avoided them. + </p> + <p> + The Warren apartment faced the Eastern side of the structure, and when he + reached the front of the Somerset, he sought for a way in which to use his + implement. A scaling ladder, it may be explained to the uninitiated, is + about eight feet long—a single fire-proof bar, on which are short + cross-pieces. At one end is a curiously curving serrated hook, which is + used for grappling on the sills of windows or ledges above. It is the most + useful weapon for the city fire-fighter, enabling him to climb diagonally + across the face of a threatened structure, or even to swing horizontally + from one window to a far one, where ladders and hose-streams might not + reach. + </p> + <p> + A hundred feet to the West of the Somerset he found the excavations for a + new apartment house. No watchman was in sight, in the mist of falling + flakes, so the criminologist disappeared over the fence which separated + the plot of ground from the sidewalk. Advancing with many a stumble + through the blasted rock and shale, he obtained ingress to an alleyway in + the rear. Following this brought him to the back of the Somerset. Shirley + had an obstinate grandfather, and heredity was strong upon him. It seemed + a foolhardy attempt to scale the big structure, but he raised the ladder + to the window-sill of the second story, climbing cautiously up to that + ledge. + </p> + <p> + On the second sill he rested, then stretched his scaler diagonally forward + to the left. As he put his feet upon this, he swung like a pendulum across + the space. It was a severe grueling of nerves, but his judgment of + placement was good. When the ladder stopped swinging he clambered up + another story, as he had learned to do on truant afternoons wasted at the + firemen's training school, during the privileged days of journalistic + work. + </p> + <p> + Floor after floor he ascended, until he reached the eighth, on which was + Shirley's great goal. Here he exerted the utmost prudence, refraining from + the natural impulse to look down at the great crevasse beneath him. His + footing was slippery, but the thickening snowfall was a boon in white + disguise, for it protected him from almost certain observation from the + street below. Slowly he raised his eyes to a level with the illuminated + window, and peered in. + </p> + <p> + A strange sight greeted him. + </p> + <p> + Shine Taylor was busily engaged in the 'twisting of coils of wire, about + shiny brass cylinders, with an array of small and large clocks, electric + batteries and mysterious bottles on the carved library table. He was + intent upon the manufacture of another of his diabolical engines of death! + </p> + <p> + Even as he watched, the door opened and who should stagger into the room + but Reginald Warren! + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott, Reg! What hit you?” was Taylor's ejaculation, as the other + stumbled forward, with a hand to his purple face, to sink into an + easy-chair, groaning. The man outside the window could not distinguish the + words, but the current of thought was well expressed in pantomime. + </p> + <p> + “I've been drugged!” moaned Warren. “That devil put something on my + handkerchief which knocked me out. I came to in Bellevue and I had a time + getting away to come back here. What about the Monk? Did you see him?” + </p> + <p> + Taylor had run to his side. It seemed as though Warren's eyes would pop + from his head. The veins were swollen on his pallid brow, and he gasped + for air. + </p> + <p> + “Open the window!” he murmured, and his confederate rushed to the very + portal through which the criminologist was watching this unusual scene, + with bated breath. His heart sank, as he lowered himself with a suddenness + which vibrated the loosely-attached scaler. For the first time his eyes + turned toward the terrifying distance from which he had ascended. + </p> + <p> + There was a squeak and he heard the window slide in its frame. He felt + that all was over. It would be impossible for Shine Taylor not to observe + the hooked prong of the ladder, with its curving metal a few inches from + his hands. In this ghastly minute of suspense, Shiley's thoughts, + strangely enough turned back to one thing. He did not dash through the + gamut of his life experiences nor regret all past peccadilloes, as + novelists inform us is generally the ultimate thought in the supreme + moment before a dash into eternity! He felt only a maddening, itchingly + bewitching desire to reach up to his coat pocket and draw out that + scent-laden page of typed note-paper which had been glorified by its + caress of the warm, bare bosom of the wonderful woman who had so + mysteriously drifted into the current of his life. + </p> + <p> + Then he heard a voice through the open window so close to his ears: it was + Shine Taylor's nasal whine. + </p> + <p> + “It's snowing, Reg. The air will do you good. What a gorgeous night for a + murder. Tell me now, what was the trouble?” + </p> + <p> + And Shirley swung, and swung and swung! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. IN THE DOUBLE TRAP + </h2> + <p> + Eternity had passed, the Judgment Day had been overlooked and new aeons + had gone their way, it seemed to the criminologist, when the voice was + audible again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right. I just drew it down from the top. Tell me about your + doping. Who was the devil?” + </p> + <p> + He had been unobserved. By the grace of the fates, Warren's sudden + appearance had given him a better chance to hear their secrets, and + Taylor's own abstraction had dissipated any interest in the world beyond + the window. Again he lifted himself to the level of the sill, sure that + the creamy curtains upon which the light from the big electrolier was + beaming, would shield him from their view. Warren called for some brandy. + Taylor served him, but it was three minutes or more before the other could + collect himself. Then he began furiously, as the pain in his forehead + diminished. + </p> + <p> + “This Shirley: he's a clever dog. He put something on my handkerchief, and + when I got that message of yours it got me, right in the taxicab, as I was + on my way to the Blue Goose to meet you.” + </p> + <p> + “To meet me?” and Taylor's turn came to be startled. “I don't know why you + should meet me at the Blue Goose!” + </p> + <p> + “Say, didn't you send me this note in code?” demanded Warren, drawing out + the typewritten sheet. Taylor shook his head, with a blanched face. + </p> + <p> + The other looked at him with the first evidence of fear which Shirley had + ever seen on the confident face. Warren caught his assistant's hand, and + drew his face down toward the note. + </p> + <p> + “Look, it is in our code. Phil can read it but he is the only one beside + you. He is locked up in jail, and couldn't reach a typewriter. I got a + message from him this afternoon that he wouldn't squeal. You know how he + smuggled it out to me. Tell me how could any one know about the Monk and + write this so?” + </p> + <p> + Taylor shook his head, speechless. As he turned his face toward the window + Shirley observed the great drawn shadows under his squinting eyes. The + sudden shock was telling on that weasel face. Taylor walked unsteadily + toward the infernal machine, and he looked blankly toward Warren again. + The other's blazing orbs were full upon him now. There was a frightful + menace in their glittering depths as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Taylor, if I thought you had sold out I'd skin you alive right now!” + </p> + <p> + “Reg—Reg—you are my best friend. Don't say a thing like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you selling me for some purpose. Are you soft on that chicken? Has + she blarneyed you into this?” demanded his chief, rising, unsteadily, but + fierce in his suspicious tensity. + </p> + <p> + Taylor cowered, with imploring hands stretched out. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Reg, no one ever did for me what you've done. I'd die rather than + sell you out, and there ain't a dame in the world that could make me soft + on a real game like this.” + </p> + <p> + As Warren studied his white face there came a tinkle on the telephone. + </p> + <p> + “What's that? Who's that?” Warren turned and ran toward the instrument, + still studying the face of his companion. It was evident that a seed of + distrust was planted in his bosom. He answered nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! What do you want? Who's speaking?” + </p> + <p> + Then he listened, and a wise expression came over his face. It broke into + a smile for the first time since he entered the room. He winked at Taylor + who drew near him. Shirley strained his ears to catch the words. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, why, my dear Miss Bonbon. Surely, I'll be glad to come down—To + help take care of Mr. Shirley—Of course, I will come in my machine + and bring him uptown to a hospital—That's what you want?—Yes, + indeed, nothing would give me greater pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + He rang off, and turned toward Taylor. + </p> + <p> + “That smooth devil has sniffed some of his own dope as sure as you live, + Shine. We'll get him. Call up and have the machine sent around. You and I + will be a committee of two, and we'll end this tonight. Bring what you + need.” + </p> + <p> + Warren drank another full glass of brandy, while Taylor gave a quick order + over the telephone. Then the latter snatched up a small black satchel + which was standing on a side table. The assistant came to the window, and + Shirley dropped down out of sight, for another moment of suspense. But the + sash was quickly closed and bolted. + </p> + <p> + The light was turned out, and he waited another five minutes, stiffening + in the cold wind which had sprung up to send the big flakes in eddies + against his numbed fingers. With difficulty he fished out a long, thin + wire from his pocket, with which he had frequently turned the safety catch + of windows on other such occasions. Again it served its purpose, and he + drew himself up to the sash of the opened window. He brushed off the snow, + so as to leave no telltale puddles of drippings. He went to the door of + the library, and then to that of the vestibule. + </p> + <p> + It was locked from the outside, even as they had done when Helene was the + drowsy prisoner. + </p> + <p> + He had little time, he knew, for his search, but he first thought of the + girl's predicament. He must cover the tracks there. He took up the + receiver, and in a minute was talking to her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm in. Leave word downstairs (and pay the clerk and bell-boy a good + bribe) that you have gone to a hospital with a sick friend. Tell them to + swear to that, and better still leave the hotel at once, hunt up Dick + Holloway—you'll find him at the Thespis Club to-night. Send in the + chauffeur to ask for him and have him stay with you in the machine. I am + going to visit the other place when I finish here. I'll be down there, at + the Thespis Club, by eleven again. Good-bye—use your wits.” + </p> + <p> + Then he began a hurried ransacking of the apartment. He picked up a + note-book here, sheets of memoranda there, letters and documents which he + thought would be convenient. Warren's bedrooms were locked, but a small + “jimmie” sufficed to force them open. He found in one drawer a dozen or + more bank books, with as many different financial houses, and under many + names. This he shoved into his pockets. At last, satisfied that he could + gain no more, he retreated to the window. He shut this and was once more + on the windowsill. Here he looked down, and a new inspiration came to him. + He would have difficulty in getting admission to the apartment entrance, + at this time of night. The attendant would remember him and warn Warren + upon the latter's return. It was but one more climb, a single story, to + the roof. So, up he went, deserting the faithful scaling ladder on the + roof, for the time being. + </p> + <p> + He sought around for several minutes on the snowy, slippery surface before + he found the entrance to the iron stairway close by the elevator shaft. + Then he went softly down. + </p> + <p> + Past Warren's apartment, on his way without a noise, his boots off, he + continued until he reached the second floor. Here he was baffled again. + Why had he not taken some impression of the pass-key of the negro + attendant when let in before? Yet now he remembered that the man had never + relinquished his hold upon that open sesame. He remembered the “jimmy”—yet + this would betray him, by the broken lock! + </p> + <p> + There was the servant's entrance, however, in the rear of the hallway. To + this he slipped, even as the elevator passed up bearing Warren and Shine + Taylor, muttering angrily. Shirley found the rear door to the rooms, and + there he worked quickly, forcing the lock. He was soon inside, and hid + himself in the pantry of the darkened apartment. He had not long to wait. + </p> + <p> + There was a clicking noise which reverberated through the empty room, as + the other two entered by the front portal. He heard them talking in + whispers, then the creaking of a window, and all was silent again. + </p> + <p> + Shirley went to the same small window through which he had descended + before. With his boots tied together by their laces, and suspended from + his neck, on either side, he went down the rope noiselessly. He found the + iron door partially opened, as he reached the end of the corridor. A block + of wood held it back from the jamb. + </p> + <p> + “He is prepared for a quick retreat. So shall I be,” thought Shirley, as + he noiselessly crept into the chamber, after having drawn away the wooden + block. He let the door come gently to its frame, stopping it within an + inch of its lock. As he turned slightly forward he caught two curious + silhouettes: Warren at his table, with Shine at his side, their outlines + clear and black against the brightness of the headlights. On, the other + side of the transparent screen stood a man, with one eye blackened, his + face badly bruised and wicked in its battered condensation of evil + determination with rage and fright, so oddly mixed. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't my fault, Chief! There are only six of the boys left. I tried me + best but this little Chinyman he soaks me one on the lamp, with a gun + butt. Me pal was nabbed in the room when I sneaks out on the rope. I finds + out afterward that Jimmie's watch must-a been about twenty minutes slow. + That's how we misses.” + </p> + <p> + “But you didn't get him, and I'm going to break you for this!” + </p> + <p> + “But gov'nor, listen—we leaves the machine all right. That'll git + 'im anyway. What'll I do?” + </p> + <p> + “I have the addresses of the other men here in my pocket. You tell them to + stick right in their rooms for the next twenty-four hours. If they don't + hear anything from me, tell them to go to Frisco by roundabout ways and + I'll forward their money, care of Kelso. Now get out.” + </p> + <p> + The man disappeared and there was a double click as the door to the front + compartment closed. Warren turned toward Taylor, While Shirley flattened + himself against the rear wall, and crouched down slowly, without a + betraying sound. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand that girl not being there. Some one's closing in on + us. I'm going to break that girl's spirit before I'm through. She'll be on + the yacht tonight, for everything's ready now. What sort of a machine did + you arrange for his room?” + </p> + <p> + “The old telephone one we worked in Oakland. It is under his bed. I told + the men to do that first before they went through his things. Then it + would look like plain robbery, and when he goes to take the receiver off + the hook it's 'good-night, nursey!' That little popper will blow the roof + off that club house!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley's blood might have run cold at the calm pride of this degenerate + fiend, had it not been boiling at the reference to Helene. He crept nearer + to them, along the wall. He lay down on the floor, below the level of the + first bullet paths. Then he drew his automatic and the bulb light, ready + for his surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I'll call up Kick Brown at the telephone company. He's on duty until + twelve. That's an hour yet.” + </p> + <p> + He placed the plug in position but there came no answer over his private + wire. Warren cursed: this time in a dialect unknown to Shirley. The man + was asserting his most primitive nature now. + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean? He knows that it's important to-night. I wonder if + some one has squealed. You know what I said upstairs, Shine?” Warren's + voice was ominous. “I don't like the looks of things. And you're the only + one who has ever known the inside working of my system. I've even told you + the key to my code—Phil knows it in part, but there is nothing I've + kept from you.” + </p> + <p> + Here Shirley's dramatic instinct asserted itself. In a sepulchral voice, + he spoke: “One key to the right, in writing. One to the left to read. + Hands up, Warren, you're wanted in Paris, and we have the goods on you!” + </p> + <p> + Placing the bulb light far to his left, he twisted the little catch which + kept it glowing permanently. The light fell full on the face of Warren and + Taylor as they sprang up back to back! + </p> + <p> + “Drop that revolver. It's all up now. You go to the chair for these + murders.” + </p> + <p> + Warren shot for the body he supposed to be above the little light. As he + did so Shirley sent a bullet into the arch criminal's right wrist. The + weapon dropped from his hand to the table. Shine Taylor, terror-stricken, + staggered against his companion, groping for support. Warren misunderstood + it: he thought his assistant was trying to hold him. The swift + interpretation gave new fuel to the flame of mistrust which had sprung up + in his heart. He knew not how many men were about him—he merely + realized that his crafty plans had been set at naught,—there could + be only this one explanation. He struck at Taylor, who moaned in pain. + </p> + <p> + “You cur, you've squealed on me!” With his uninjured left hand he caught + the other in his Oriental death grip, with all his consummate skill. + Astonished at the sudden move, Shirley rose to his feet. But he hesitated + too long. + </p> + <p> + With a faint gurgle, Shine Taylor, pickpocket, mechanical artist and + criminal genius sank to the mouldy ground of the cellar—lifeless! + </p> + <p> + Shirley snatched up the light, instinctively throwing its rays upon the + face of the dead man. It was horrible to see this ghastly ending of the + miserable life, so suddenly conceived and grewsomely executed! Here was + Warren's opportunity. He caught up his weapon from the table with the left + hand, and sent a shot at the intruder, leaping at the same time toward the + rear entrance. Monty swung the light about, but the other threw on an + electric switch. He stood by the iron portal a fiendish smirk on his + distorted features. + </p> + <p> + “So, my luck is good after all: I've got you where I most want you!” His + weapon covered Shirley's. “I shoot as well with my left hand as with my + right. But, no, I won't shoot you. I'll put you away without a trace left. + That is always the clever way. I told you that the average criminal was + too careless about little things. Good-bye, Mr. Montague Shirley, I wish + you a pleasant journey!” + </p> + <p> + His hand, bleeding from the bullet wound, was pushing the iron door, + behind him as he faced Shirley. Suddenly a frightful sound broke the + stillness: it was the final exhalation of air from the dead man's lungs. + It sent a creeping chill through Shirley's blood. Warren's right hand + dropped, nervously for an instant, despite his resolution. In that second + Shirley had brought his own weapon up to a level with the other's eyes. + </p> + <p> + The door closed with a clang! + </p> + <p> + Warren's face lost its sneering smile. He was locked in from the rear! + </p> + <p> + “Now, let's see you get out the front way,” retorted the criminologist. He + had one hand behind him. He felt a metal contrivance, With three buttons + on it. He thought perhaps it were the controlling switch for the lights. + He would take his chances in the dark. He pressed all three quickly. + </p> + <p> + There was a clang from the front, as some mechanism whirred for an + instant. A gong sounded above, and scurrying feet could be heard—then + were audible no more. It was the warning alarm for the gangsters: they had + fled. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly to Shirley's straining ears came the tick-ticking of an alarm + clock, from the corner of the room to his right. He dare not look at it. + Warren's eyes grew black with the Great Fear! + </p> + <p> + “You fool, you've locked all the entrances, and sent the men away. That + clock will ring in exactly five minutes. When it does, this place will go + up from a load of lyddite. You've dug your own grave!” + </p> + <p> + Warren's voice was hoarse, and his bright eyes radiated venomously, as he + kept his weapon pointed, like Shirley's, at the face opposite. They were + both prisoners in the death cellar, with the advantage in favor of + neither! + </p> + <p> + And the ticking clock, with its maddening, mechanical death chant seemed + to Shirley to cry, with each beat, like the reminiscence of some nightmare + barbershop: “Next! Next! Next!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. CAPTURED AND THEN + </h2> + <p> + Warren's white lips were moving in perfect synchronism, as he counted the + seconds and ticks of the clock. Shirley, never so acute, cudgeled his mind + for some devise by which he might overcame the other. It was hopeless. At + last, just as he knew the inevitable second was almost completed, a faint + rustling came from the other side of the iron door. Warren's face + brightened with hope. With a nerve-racking rasp, the iron bar on the other + side was raised: it was a torturing delay as the two waited! + </p> + <p> + The door slowly opened. After a harrowing pause a revolver muzzle slid + gently through the crack, and a woman's voice murmured softly: “Drop the + gun!” + </p> + <p> + It was Helene Marigold! + </p> + <p> + Warren's ashen face changed to purple hue, his hand trembled just enough + to incite Shirley to a desperate chance. As the criminal drew the trigger + with a spasmodic jerk, Shirley was dropping to the floor, whence he pushed + himself forward with a froglike leap, as he straightened out the great + muscles. + </p> + <p> + Together they rolled in a frenzied struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Run back, Helene. The clock will explode!” cried Shirley, desperately. + Instead, she sprang into the bright room, espied the diabolical + arrangement in the corner, and ran to pick it up. She saw the wire, and + her deft fingers reached behind the clock to turn back its hands. Had she + torn the wire, as a man would have done, the dreaded explosion would have + ended it all. + </p> + <p> + “We're coming!” + </p> + <p> + It was the voice of Pat Cleary from the passageway. He rushed through the + subterranean passage, followed by several men, with Dick Holloway + excitedly in their train. After a titanic struggle, with the man baffled + in this maddening moment of ruined triumph, they handcuffed him. + </p> + <p> + Shirley led Helene into the front compartment before she could observe the + horror stamped upon the face of the murdered rogue. + </p> + <p> + The girl turned her glorious eyes to his, reached forth her hands, and + then the eternal feminine conquered as she trembled unsteadily and sank + into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Break down the doors, Cleary. Out here, to the street. Pull off the hands + of that clock—it's a lyddite bomb!” cried Shirley, excitedly. + </p> + <p> + One of the men used the table with clattering effect. The iron door of the + front room gave way, and Shirley carried Helene up the ladder, to the main + floor of the old garage. She seemed a sleeping lily—so pale, so + fragile, so fragrant in her colorless beauty. He had never seen her so + before! For an instant a great terror pierced him: she seemed not to + breathe. But as he placed his face close to her mouth, her eyes opened for + one divine look, then drooped again. A white hand and arm curled, with + childish confidence, about his shoulder. He bore her thus to the big car + from the Agency, which stood outside. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, down to the Hotel California,” he called to the chauffeur, “Pat + Cleary can handle matters there.” + </p> + <p> + As they sped toward her apartment the roses took their wonted place in her + cheeks. She sat up to smile in his face. Then she lowered her glance, with + carmine mounting hotly to her brow. Helene said no word—nor did + Shirley. She simply leaned toward him, to bury her face upon the broad + shoulder, as neither heeded the possible curiosity of the driver on the + seat in front. + </p> + <p> + At least, they understood completely. There was nothing else to say! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * +</pre> + <p> + As Shirley left her at the door of the apartment, he turned into the + elevator, his mind whirling with the strange imprisonment into which he + had let his unwilling heart drift. The clerk stopped him at the lower + floor. + </p> + <p> + “There's a call for you, sir. It's rush, the gentleman said!” + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott! What now?” he ran to the instrument, and he heard Captain + Cronin's excited voice. + </p> + <p> + “Shirley. The man's escaped again! They just came into the place. He threw + some sort of bottle at the front of the patrol wagon which blew it all to + pieces. He got away in the mix-up—three policemen were injured!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll get him, Captain, if it's the last act of my life.” + </p> + <p> + To the surprise of the blase clerk, the well-known club man ran out of the + hotel, dropping his hat in his excitement. He shouted to the driver who + still waited in the agency machine. + </p> + <p> + “The sky's the limit, now, son. Race for Twenty-first Street and the East + River. Let me off at the end of the dock. Then go back to get some men + from the agency, as I'll have a prisoner, then, or they'll get my body!” + </p> + <p> + The machine raced down the street, regardless of the warnings of + policemen. Shirley was confident that his was not the only car on such a + mission. He reached the dock of Manby, where was waiting the expert + engineer of the hydroplane. He had not planned in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen an auto go past here before mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I was smoking me pipe, and settin' on the rail of the dock, + when one shoots up toward the Twenty-third Street Ferry, with a cop on a + motor-cycle chasin' it behind.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, quick, into the boat.” + </p> + <p> + They clambered down the wet ladder, and after an aggravating delay, the + whirring engines of the racing craft were started. Shirley took off his + coat, and lashed a long rope about his waist. He tied the other end of it + securely to a thwart in the boat. + </p> + <p> + “What's your idee, Cap?” asked the engineer, as he waited the signal. + </p> + <p> + “There's a man trying to catch that white yacht out in the river. I want + to get him, that's all. If I fall out of this boat, keep right on going, + for I'm tied up now. Where's the boat hook?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, sir. Are you ready? Just give me your directions. All right, sir, + we're off.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley grunted and the hydroplane sped out onto the river, in a big + curve, as he directed. Like a white ghost on the river was the trim yacht, + which even now could be seen speeding down the stream, all steam up. There + were two toots on the whistle and Shirley feared that his man had boarded + her. But the hydroplane, ploughing through the cold waves, whizzed toward + the yacht, as he climbed out to the small flat stern. A small boat had + swung close to the yacht now. A ladder had been lowered from a spar, while + a man standing in the little craft missed it. The yacht was gliding past + the boat, when another rope ladder was deftly swung over the stern. + </p> + <p> + The hydroplane was close up now, and Shirley saw his prey dangling at the + end of the ladder, now in the water, struggling with the rungs of the + ladder, and now being drawn up. + </p> + <p> + His engineer, with a skilful hand on the helm, swung in close to the + yacht, as keen for the capture as his patron. They whizzed past at almost + railroad speed, and Shirley, sprang toward the ladder. His arms closed + about the body of Reginald Warren in a grip which he braced by a curious + finger-lock he had learned in wrestling practice. + </p> + <p> + Two revolvers barked over the taffrail of the yacht, as the hydroplane + raced onward, dragging Shirley and his prisoner at the end of the rope, + through the water. Again the shots rang out, but they were out of range, + on the dark waters so quickly, that before the police boat had set out + from shore to investigate the firing from the pleasure vessel, the + criminologist's struggle with his wounded antagonist was over. + </p> + <p> + Half drowned, himself, with Warren completely past consciousness, Shirley + was pulled into his own boat as the engines were slowed down. They + returned rapidly to the dock. + </p> + <p> + “Help me work him—that was a pretty rough yank. He's been shot in + the hand already.” + </p> + <p> + They rolled Warren on a barrel, “pumped” his arms, and by the time the + Cronin automobile had returned with the other detectives, Warren was + restored to understanding again. Shirley forced some liquor between his + teeth, to be greeted with a torrent of strange oaths. + </p> + <p> + “The jig is up, Warren,” said the criminologist. “As a chess-player in the + little game, you are a wonder. But, I think I may at last call + 'Checkmate.'” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not dead yet, Shirley,” hissed Warren. “I gave you your chance to + keep out of this. But you wouldn't take it. I'll settle the score with you + before I'm finished. There's one man in the world who knows how to get + away from bars. I'm that man.” + </p> + <p> + Then his teeth snapped together with a click. He said nothing more that + night, even during the operation for probing Shirley's bullet, and the + painful dressing. At the station-house, and his arraignment before the + magistrate at Night Court, where he saw some other familiar faces of his + fellow gangsters—now rounded up on the same charges—he still + maintained that feline silence. + </p> + <p> + And his eyes never left the face of Montague Shirley, as long as that calm + young man was in sight! + </p> + <p> + Shirley merely presented his charge of murder—for the strangling of + Shine Taylor. The names of the aged millionaires were not brought into the + matter—there was no need. He had done his work well. + </p> + <p> + At Cronin's agency, late that night, there came a cablegram from the + greatest detective bureau of France. + </p> + <p> + “The Montfleury case” was the most daring robbery and sale of state war + secrets ever perpetrated in Paris. It had been successful, despite the + capture, and conviction of the criminal, Laschlas Rozi, a Hungarian + adventurer who had killed three men to carry his point. The scoundrel had + escaped after murdering his prison guard, and wearing his clothes out of + the gaol. A reward of 100,000 francs had been offered for his capture, by + the Department of Justice. + </p> + <p> + “Monty, who gets all the credit for this little deal—that's what's + bothering me?” asked Captain Cronin, as they sipped a toast of rare old + port, in his rear office. + </p> + <p> + Shirley lit the ubiquitous cigarette, and tilted back in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Captain: why ask foolish questions? This case ought to buy you five or + six of those big farms you've been planning about—and leave you + fifty thousand dollars with which to pay the damages for being a gentleman + farmer.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, Monty? You know you never have to present a bill with me. What + will you do with your pin money?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going down on Fifth Avenue tomorrow and invest it in a solitaire + ring, for a very small finger.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION + </h2> + <p> + Shirley made some investigations in a private reading room of the Public + Library: there was much good treasure there, not salable over the counter + of a grocery store, mayhap, but unusually valuable in the high grade work + which was his specialty. In an old volume enumerating the noble families + of Austro-Hungary he found two distinguished lines, “Laschlas” and “Rozi.” + </p> + <p> + From the library he went to a cable office where he sent a message to the + chief of police of Budapesth inquiring about the remaining members of the + families. The old volume in the library was thirty-four years behind the + times: it was the only record obtainable in America. + </p> + <p> + After a couple of hours, which he devote to some personal matters, he + received a response to his inquiry. When translated from the Hungarian it + read thus: + </p> + <p> + “Professor Montague Shirley, College Club, N.Y., U.S.A. + </p> + <p> + Families extinct except Countess Laschlas, and son Count Rozi Laschlas, + reported killed in Albanian revolution. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Csherkini, Minister of Justice.” + </pre> + <p> + The criminologist was happy. Here was a weapon which he had not yet used. + Now he turned his steps towards the Tombs, for an interview with the + prisoner. + </p> + <p> + After some parley with the warden, he was admitted for a visit to Reginald + Warren. That gentleman's fury was rekindled at the sight of the club man + who had been so instrumental in his downfall. But a cunning smile played + over the features of the criminal. + </p> + <p> + “So, you have come to gloat over your work, Shirley? Well, it is a game + two can play.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? I am always interested in sport. I came to see if there was anything + I could do for you in your confinement,” was the unruffled reply. + </p> + <p> + “You will be busy with your own affairs,” retorted Warren. “I have been + busy writing my confession. Here is the manuscript. I will baffle all your + efforts to hush up the affairs of the 'Lobster Club.' Furthermore, my + confession,” (and he exultantly waved a mass of manuscript at his + visitor,) “will send young Van Cleft to prison for perjury on the + certificate of his father's death. Captain Cronin, that prince of + blockheads, will share the same fate. Professor MacDonald, who I know very + well signed the death certificates, will be disgraced and driven from + professional standing. You will be implicated in this plot to thwart + justice. With the German university thoroughness to which you so + sarcastically referred, I have written down the facts as carefully as + though I were preparing a thesis for a doctor's degree!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed maliciously, studying the effect of his words. He was + disappointed. Shirley's bland manner changed not a whit. Instead the + criminologist offered him a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “You might as well smoke now—as later!” and there was a wealth of + innuendo in the emphasis. “Is that all you are going to do, to square your + accounts?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means! As my trump card, I have implicated Miss Helene Marigold in + the various exploits which have been so successful now. She is unknown in + New York—I investigated that matter. She will have a fine task in + proving an alibi, after the careful preparation I have made. In fact, I + accuse her of being the mistress of my dead con'federate—” + </p> + <p> + Shirley sprang to his feet, and the rage which was shown in his strong + features brought a leer to the face of the other. + </p> + <p> + “Strike me,” continued the tormentor. “All I have to do is to call the + guard. I have been busy thinking since they locked me up here. There is + nothing more to do to me than the electric chair—but, I am not + finished yet.” + </p> + <p> + The criminologist controlled himself with difficulty. He realized that an + altercation with the prisoner would shatter his whole case, like a house + of cards blown down by a vagrant breeze. He sat down again, the mask of + calm indifference playing over his features. + </p> + <p> + “And what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Is not that sufficient to interest you? It will be another month before + my trial, and my literary work has just begun. The newspapers are filled + with war news, which have ceased to be a nine days' wonder. I shall + provide them with material which will be the story of the age! Another + month, and then?” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner lit the cigarette which he had accepted, and stretched back + in the plain wooden chair to enjoy the misery of his victim. + </p> + <p> + “But, a month—let me see? That would enable me to do some + corresponding myself, wouldn't it?” and Shirley took out a memorandum + book. “You have degraded a splendid intellect, a gallant spirit and + brought disgrace upon yourself, for this miserable ending. You have + ruthlessly murdered others, caring naught for the misery and wretchedness + of those left behind. Has it been worth it all, Warren?” + </p> + <p> + The other's eyes twinkled, as he nodded. + </p> + <p> + “A wonderful game. And I haven't completed the score, even now.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Warren. There is one soul more whom you have not affected. + It is too bad that you were not killed in the Albanian revolution,—then + you would have been on record as a hero instead of the vilest scoundrel in + Christendom.” + </p> + <p> + Had the death-dealing current of the electric chair been turned upon + Warren he could not have been more startled, as he sprang up. His pallid + face seemed to turn a sickly green, as his dark eyes opened in galvanized + amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Albanian—what do you mean? I never saw Albania!” + </p> + <p> + “You will never see it again. You will never see Budapesth again, either,” + was the menacing continuation of the criminologist's methodical speech. + “But a very old lady, the Countess Laschlas, will see the accounts of her + son's wretched death, in the New York papers which will be sent to her, in + care of the American consul!” + </p> + <p> + It was merely a deductive guess: but the shot struck the center of the + bull's-eye. Warren, alias Count Laschlas, staggered back, and his nervous + fingers touched the chilling surface of the stone wall. He dropped his + eyes, and then strove to regain his nonchalance. It was a pitiable + failure. + </p> + <p> + “Just as you have dealt to the children of others, so will you deal with + your own mother, the last of a distinguished line of aristocrats. I swear, + by the memory of my own dead parents, that I will avenge the misery you + have given to the innocent. The good Book says, the sins of the fathers + shall be visited upon the children even unto the third and the fourth + generation. But life to-day has taught me that the sins of the children + are visited upon the fathers and the mothers—especially, the sweet, + loving, trusting mothers! As I value my honor, Reginald Warren, or Count + Rozi, I will see to it that your mother shall know every detail of the + whole miserable career of her son. That is my answer to your alleged + confession. If there is a hereafter, from which you may observe that which + follows your death, you will be able to see through eternity the earthly + punishment which has been visited upon the one person whom you love and + respect.” + </p> + <p> + The criminal's ashen face was buried in his hands. + </p> + <p> + Great sobs emanated from his white lips, as his shoulders heaved in a + paroxysm. + </p> + <p> + Shirley had struck the Achilles tendon—the hardest wretch in the + world had one, as he knew! + </p> + <p> + “Oh—oh—” he moaned, “the poor little mutter. She has forgiven + so much, suffered so much. You can't do it. You won't do it!” He fell to + his knees, clawing at the criminologist's garments with his trembling + hands, the tears streaming down his face. + </p> + <p> + “What about those who have seen no compassion from you?” cried Shirley in + a terrible voice. “Your vanity, your self-worship! Do they not comfort you + now? This is only the suffering of another which you contemplate! Why all + these hysterics?” + </p> + <p> + Warren, groveling on the floor of the reception-room, was a picture of + abject, horrid soul-torture. At last, through the subtlety of this + unconventional sleuth, along methods which were never dreamed of in the + ordinary police category, he had been broken on the wheel which he had + himself so cunningly constructed! + </p> + <p> + “And if that mother dies, cursing your memory with her last breath, + cursing the love of the father, of her husband, of the ancestors, all + responsible for your being in the world today, what will you think, when + you watch from the other side of that great unseen wall?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Shirley! I can't. See—I'll destroy this stuff. I'll keep silent + about the others. I mean it. Here: I tear it up now and give you the + pieces to burn!” + </p> + <p> + Warren, maddened by his fears, nervously tore the sheets into bits and + pressed the remnants into the criminologist's hands. + </p> + <p> + “Will you promise to keep my identity a secret?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not send word to Budapesth. You have a bad record in Paris, and + other parts of the world. But, if you play fair on the confidential nature + of this case, saving the innocent from disgrace and shame, I will see that + the story never reaches your mother. There is no need to ask this on your + honor—that does not count.” + </p> + <p> + Warren winced at this final thrust. He turned toward Shirley, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand me at that, Shirley. I have had a curious career. + Somewhere I inherited a strain of criminality—you know how many + ancestors a man has in ten generations. I was a member of a poor but + prominent family. The government paid for my education in the best + universities of Europe, for I was to hold a position under the Emperor, + which had been held in my family for generations. But I was ruined by the + extravagances and the excesses which I learned from the rich young men + whom I met. I studied feverishly, yet was able to waste much time with the + gilded fools, by my ability to learn more quickly. The result was that I + could not be contented with the small salary of my government office. I + had to keep up appearances with my companions. So, I drifted into + gambling, into sharp tricks—then became a mercenary soldier, an + officer, in the continuous revolutions of the southeastern part of Europe. + I sank deeper and at last, in one serious escapade, I managed to have + myself reported dead, so as to quiet the heartaches of my mother, who + believed I was killed on the battlefield. There is the miserable story—or + all I will tell. They caught me in Paris and a girl betrayed part of my + name—fortunately they did not hunt me up, so my mother was saved + that disgrace. Will you keep the secret now, on our understanding?” + </p> + <p> + “I give you my word for that, Warren.” Shirley rose, putting the torn-up + papers into his pockets. “I am sorry for the past—but you have made + the present for yourself. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Warren returned to his cell and the detective to the club house. + </p> + <p> + There he found an additional cable message. It said: “Countess Laschlas + has been dead ten months.” It was signed like the other. + </p> + <p> + Shirley tore up the message, and blinked more than seemed necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little old lady, she knows it all now. I will not have to tell her.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * +</pre> + <p> + That afternoon Shirley called again at the Hotel California for Helene. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to go to a sweet, old-fashioned English tea-room, where I may + tell you the rest of the story. There will be no tango music, no cymbals, + no tinkling cocktails, nor, champagne. Can you pour real tea?” + </p> + <p> + “I am an English girl. I have been five days without it.” + </p> + <p> + As they were ensconced at the quaint little table, he realized how + wondrously blended in her was that triad of feminine essential spirits: + the eternal mother instinct, the sensuous strength of the wife-love and + the wistful allurement of maiden tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “Does my great big boy wish three lumps of sugar, after his hard tasks?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll die in the flower of immaturity if he has too many sweets in one + day.” + </p> + <p> + He drew out his memorandum book, opening it to a closely-written page. + </p> + <p> + “Before the confections, I must hand in my report to the commanding + officer.” + </p> + <p> + “Advance three paces to the front, and hand over the details,” and she + added another lump of sugar, with a mischievous twinkle in the blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, excellency. We transcribed the addresses of Warren's gangsters + from his note-book, and they have all been arrested. The men we captured + in the earlier skirmishes are all languishing in the tombs, as accomplices + in his crime, as well as for their attempts against my own life. You will + be astonished, Helene, at the revelations of his operations as shown by + his bank-books, a translation of that diary and some of the letters which + I took when I burglarized his rooms. I have sent a code letter to Phil, + advising him to confess all, and that man's testimony adds to the + corroboration. I went down to the District Attorney with a full statement + of the facts, leaving nothing unbared. Like me, he agreed that it were + best to let the law take its course, demanding the full penalty, and + saving the honor of a dozen families who would have been dragged into the + case, had not Warren laid himself liable by the murder of his confederate, + Taylor. That young man was an electrical genius—with his brains + misguided by his equally misdirected employer. There is no chance of a + miscarriage of justice, and Warren had accumulated so much money that many + of the victims of his organization can be reimbursed in full.” + </p> + <p> + “You have handled all this with a suspicious skill for a lazy society man, + with no experience in such matters.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley understood the subtle sarcasm of the remark, but he proceeded + unruffled, to lull her suspicious. + </p> + <p> + “I only tried to cover the points which meant happiness and peace of mind + to others. It was merely a matter of common or garden horse sense, as we + call it in America. Warren has been systematically robbing the rich men of + New York for three years, under various subterfuges. No wonder he could + afford such gorgeous collections of art, keeping aloof from his associates + in crime. His treasures, like those in many European museums were bought + with blood. It is curious how a complex case like this smooths itself out + so simply when the key is obtained. And you, Helene, have been the genius + to supply that key: my own work has been merely corroborative!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the delicate features of the girl, remembering with a + recurring thrill the margin by which they had escaped death in the cellar + den of the conspirators. + </p> + <p> + “Cleary and Dick Holloway told me how cleverly you led the men to the + Somerset where you followed my trail through the mole's passage. It was a + frightful risk for you to take: Cleary should have had more sense and led + the way himself.” + </p> + <p> + Helene's lips pursed themselves into a tempting pout. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not happier that it was I, at that supreme moment?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am: success was all the sweeter. There is remaining only one + mystery which I must admit is still unsolved in this curious affair. And + that is you. Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + She parried with the same question. + </p> + <p> + “I know your name, sir, but you profess to be a society butterfly, + flitting from pleasure to dissipation, and back again. Tell me the truth, + now, if ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—gracious, Helene—of all the foolish questions!” He was + adorably boyish in his confusion. She laughed gleefully, like a happy + schoolgirl. + </p> + <p> + “Then, Monty Shirley, my score is better than yours, for I have every + mystery cleared. But while I know all about you, what frightful chances + you are taking with me!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley reddened, as he burned his finger with the match which had been + raised to the end of his cigarette. He accused her of teasing, and she + glanced happily at the iridiscent solitaire upon the third finger of her + left hand. + </p> + <p> + “Dear boy, I realize that I understand about you what you cannot fathom + with me. You are not a moth, but your self-sacrifice, and bravery in this + case are professional: you worked on this case as you have on a hundred + others: you are a very original and successful expert in criminology. And + I am not more than half bad at observation and deduction, myself; now, am + I, dear?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley gracefully admitted defeat, with a question: “Who are you, Helene? + And who is dear old Jack?” + </p> + <p> + The roses blossomed in her cheeks as she answered: “Jack is a very sweet + boy, ten years older than you in gray hair and the calendar, and + infinitely younger in worldly wisdom and intellect. He is an English army + officer, who was foolish enough to imagine he loved me, foolish enough to + propose every three days for the last three years and foolish enough to + bore me until in self-defense I escaped from his clutches. As for myself, + at least I am not the young woman who can stand staying in that gaudy + theatrical hotel for another day longer. I have done so many bold, + unmaidenly things that you may believe it easy for me. It is not. + </p> + <p> + “I am truly a horrid, old-time, hoopskirt-minded prude. My first act of + domestic tyranny is to make you find a sedate, prim place for my work and + play, where I may know my own blushes when I see them in the mirror, and + will have less occasion to deserve them!” + </p> + <p> + “Your work? What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It is very hard work—with a typewriter, but not in code. I will not + divulge my name until we tell it to the marriage license clerk. But Dick + Holloway knows me, and I came to this country, partly to see him. I have + written a few plays, which simple as they were, seemed to interest + European audiences and critics. Some of my novels have strangely enough + brought in royalties, despite the publishers! But, I became satiated with + life in England and on the Continent. I came here because I felt that I + needed life in a younger and newer country. I needed an emotional and + physical awakening.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not wasted any time in drowsiness since you reached America.” + </p> + <p> + “No—and all because I went to Holloway's office that fateful + morning, before I saw any one else in New York, to ask about a play which + he is to produce this spring. I confess that it was my first experience as + an actress. Will you forgive my deception?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley nodded, as he studied the animated face with a new interest. He + admitted to himself that Holloway's prediction had come true—he had + met his match. + </p> + <p> + “And so, my dear Helene (for such I shall always call you, whether your + really, truly name be Mehitabel, Samantha or Sophronisa) you came here, + went through all these horrors without a complaint, crushing the + independence of my confirmed bachelorhood for the sake of what we + newspaper men call copy?” + </p> + <p> + Helene nodded demurely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it was such wonderful 'copy,' Monty boy.” + </p> + <p> + The criminologist scowled over his cigarette, yet he could not feel as + unhappy as he felt this defeat should make him. + </p> + <p> + “When will the 'copy' be ready for publication, my dear girl. It would be + most interesting, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + Helene caught his hand, drawing it toward her throbbing heart. Her wet + lips were almost touching his ear, as she confided, whisperingly, with the + blue eyes averted: “Only published in editions de luxe: some bindings will + be with blue ribbons, some with pink. All of them with flexible backs and + gloriously illumined by the Master's brush. The authors' autographs will + be on every copy to prove the collaboration, and every volume will be a + poem in itself.... But there, Montague dear, I am a novelist—not a + fortune-teller!” + </p> + <p> + “How can I forecast the exact dates of publication?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Voice on the Wire, by Eustace Hale Ball + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOICE ON THE WIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 5672-h.htm or 5672-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/7/5672/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Voice on the Wire + +Author: Eustace Hale Ball + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5672] +Posting Date: June 12, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOICE ON THE WIRE *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + + + + + + + +THE VOICE ON THE WIRE + + +By Eustace Hale Ball + + + + +CHAPTER I. WHEN THREE IS A MYSTERY + + + +"Mr. Shirley is waiting for you in the grill-room, sir. Just step this +way, sir, and down the stairs." + +The large man awkwardly followed the servant to the cosey grill-room on +the lower floor of the club house. He felt that every man of the little +groups about the Flemish tables must be saying: "What's he doing here?" + +"I wish Monty Shirley would meet me once in a while in the back room of +a ginmill, where I'd feel comfortable," muttered the unhappy visitor. +"This joint is too classy. But that's his game to play--" + +He reached the sought-for one, however, and exclaimed eagerly: "By +Jiminy, Monty. I'm glad to find you--it would have been my luck after +this day, to get here too late." + +He was greeted with a grip that made even his generous hand wince, as +the other arose to smile a welcome. + +"Hello, Captain Cronin. You're a good sight for a grouchy man's eyes! +Sit down and confide the brand of your particular favorite poison to our +Japanese Dionysius!" + +The Captain sighed with relief, as he obeyed. + +"Bar whiskey is good enough for an old timer like me. Don't tell me you +have the blues--your face isn't built that way!" + +"Gospel truth, Captain. I've been loafing around this club--nothing to +do for a month. Bridge, handball, highballs, and yarns! I'm actually a +nervous wreck because my nerves haven't had any work to do!" + +"You're the healthiest invalid I've seen since the hospital days in the +Civil War. But don't worry about something to do. I've some job now. +It's dolled up with all them frills you like: millions, murders and +mysteries! If this don't keep you awake, you'll have nightmares for the +next six months. Do you want it?" + +"I'm tickled to death. Spill it!" + +"Monty, it's the greatest case my detective agency has had since I left +the police force eleven years ago. It's too big for me, and I've come +to you to do a stunt as is a stunt. You will plug it for me, won't +you--just as you've always done? If I get the credit, it'll mean a +fortune to me in the advertising alone." + +"Haven't I handled every case for you in confidence. I'm not a fly-cop, +Captain Cronin. I'm a consulting specialist, and there's no shingle hung +out. Perhaps you had better take it to some one else." + +Shirley pushed away his empty glass impatiently. + +"There, Monty, I didn't mean to offend you. But there's such swells +in this and such a foxey bunch of blacklegs, that I'm as nervous as a +rookie cop on his first arrest. Don't hold a grudge against me." + +Shirley lit a cigarette and resumed his good nature: "Go on, Captain. +I'm so stale with dolce far niente, after the Black Pearl affair last +month, that I act like an amateur myself. Make it short, though, for I'm +going to the opera." + +The Captain leaned over the table, his face tense with suppressed +emotion. He was a grizzled veteran of the New York police force: a man +who sought his quarry with the ferocity of a bull-dog, when the line +of search was definitely assured. Lacking imagination and the subtler +senses of criminology, Captain Cronin had built up a reputation for +success and honesty in every assignment by bravery, persistence, and +as in this case, the ability to cover his own deductive weakness by +employing the brains of others. + +Montague Shirley was as antithetical from the veteran detective as a man +could well be. A noted athlete in his university, he possessed a society +rating in New York, at Newport and Tuxedo, and on the Continent which +was the envy of many a gilded youth born to the purple. + +On leaving college, despite an ample patrimony, he had curiously enough +entered the lists as a newspaper man. From the sporting page he was +graduated to police news, then the city desk, at last closing his career +as the genius who invented the weekly Sunday thriller, in many colors +of illustration and vivacious Gallic style which interpreted into heart +throbs and goose-flesh the real life romances and tragedies of the +preceding six days! He had conquered the paper-and-ink world--then deep +within there stirred the call for participation in the game itself. + +So, dropping quietly into the apparently indolent routine of club +existence, he had devoted his experience and genius to analytical +criminology--a line of endeavor known only to five men in the world. + +He maintained no offices. He wore no glittering badges: a police card, +a fire badge, and a revolver license, renewed year after year, were the +only instruments of his trade ever in evidence. Shirley took assignments +only from the heads of certain agencies, by personal arrangement as +informal as this from Captain Cronin. His real clients never knew of his +participation, and his prey never understood that he had been the real +head-hunter! + +His fees--Montague Shirley, as a master craftsman deemed his artistry +worthy of the hire. His every case meant a modest fortune to the +detective agency and Shirley's bills were never rendered, but always +paid! + +So, here, the hero of the gridiron and the class re-union, the gallant +of a hundred pre-matrimonial and non-maturing engagements, the veteran +of a thousand drolleries and merry jousts in clubdom--unspoiled by +birth, breeding and wealth, untrammeled by the juggernaut of pot-boiling +and the salary-grind, had drifted into the curious profession of +confidential, consulting criminal chaser. + +Shirley unostentatiously signaled for an encore on the refreshments. + +"You're nervous to-night, Captain. You've been doing things before you +consulted me--which is against our Rule Number One, isn't it?" + +The Captain gulped down his whiskey, and rubbed his forehead. + +"Couldn't help it, Monty. It got too busy for me, before I realized +anything unusual in the case. See what I got from a gangster before I +landed here." + +He turned his close-cropped head, as Montague Shirley leaned forward +to observe an abrasion at the base of his skull. It was dressed with a +coating of collodion. + +"Brass knuckled--I see the mark of the rings. Tried for the +pneumogastric nerves, to quiet you." + +"Whatever he tried for he nearly got. Kelly's nightstick got his +pneumonia gas jet, or whatever you call it. He's still quiet, in the +station house--You know old man Van Cleft, who owns sky-scrapers +down town, don't you?--Well, he's the center of this flying wedge of +excitement. His family are fine people, I understand. His daughter was +to be married next week. Monty, that wedding'll be postponed, and old +Van Cleft won't worry over dispossess papers for his tenants for the +rest of the winter. See?" + +"Killed?" + +"Correct. He's done, and I had a hell of a time getting the body home, +before the coroner and the police reporters got on the trail." + +Shirley lowered his high-ball glass, with an earnest stare. + +"What was the idea?" + +"Robbery, of course. His son had me on the case--'phoned from the +garage where the chauffeur brought the body; after he saw the old man +unconscious. Just half an hour before he had left his office in the same +machine, after taking five thousand dollars in cash from his manager." + +"Who was with him?" + +"Now, that's getting to brass tacks. When I gets that C.Q.D. from +Van Cleft, I finds the young fellow inside the ring of rubbernecks, +blubbering over the old man, where he lies on the floor of the +taxi--looking soused." + +"He was a notorious old sport about town, Captain." + +"Sure--and I thinks, it sorter serves him right. But, that's his +funeral, not mine. Van Cleft, junior, says to me: 'There's the girl that +was with him.'" + +"Where was the girl?" + +"She was sitting on a stool, near the car, a little blonde chorus +chicken, shaking and twitching, while the chauffeur and the garage boss +held her up. I says, 'What's this?' and Van Cleft tells me all he knows, +which ain't nothing. Them guys in that garage was wise, for it meant a +cold five hundred apiece before I left to keep their lids closed. Van +Cleft begs me to hustle the old man home, so one of my men takes her +down to my office, still a sniffling, and acting like she had the +D.T.'s. The young fellow shook like a leaf, but we takes him over to +Central Park East, to the family mansion,--carrying him up the steps +like he was drunk. We gets him into his own bed, and keeps the sister +from touching his clammy hands, while she orders the family doctor. When +he gets there on the jump, I gives him the wink and leads him to one +side. 'Doc,' I says, 'you know how to write out a death certificate, to +hush this up from your end. I've done the rest.'" + +Captain Cronin leaned forward, a queer excitement agitating him. + +"Do you know what that doctor says to me, Monty?" + +Shirley shook his head. + +He says; "My God, it's the third!" + +Shirley's white hand gripped the edge of the table. "The Van Cleft's +doctor is one of the greatest surgeons in the country, Professor +MacDonald of the Medical College. He said that?" + +"He did. I answers, 'Whadd'y mean the third?' Then he looks me straight +in the eye, and sings back, 'None of your business.'" Cronin shook +his head. "I never seen a man with a squarer look, and yet he has me +guessing. I goes back to the garage, over past Eighth Avenue, you know, +where two johns come up along side o' me. One rubs me with his elbow +and the other applies that brass knuckle,--then they gets pinched. I got +dressed up in a drug store, got the chauffeur's license number, and goes +on down to my office to see this girl. She's hysterical about his family +using all their money to put her in jail. I looks at her, and says, 'You +won't need their money to get to jail. That old man's dead!' Her eyes +was as big as saucers. 'I thought old Daddy Van Cleft was drunk.' I +tells her, 'He was dead in that taxi, with a chorus girl, and a roll of +bills gone. What you got to say?' She staggers forward and clutches my +coat, and what do you think SHE says to me?" + +Shirley made the inquiry only with his eyes, puffing his cigarette +slowly. + +"She looks sorter green, and repeats after me: 'Dead, with a chorus +girl, and a roll of bills gone,'--just like a parrot. Then she springs +this on me: 'My God, it's the third!'" + +Shirley dropped his cigarette, leaning forward, all nonchalance gone. + +"Where is she now? Quick, let's go to her." + +He rose to his feet. Just then a door-boy walked through the grill-room +toward him. "A telephone call for Captain Cronin, sir; the party said +hurry or he would miss something good." + +Shirley snapped out, "When has the rule about telephone calls in this +club been changed? You boys are never to tell any one that a member or +guest are here until the name is announced." + +He turned toward the puzzled Captain. + +"Did you ask any of your operatives to call you here? You know what a +risk you are taking, to connect me with this case like that, don't you?" + +"I never even breathed it to myself. I told no one." + +"Follow me up to the telephone room." + +Shirley hurried through the grill, to the switchboard, near which stood +the booths for private calls. He called to one of the operators. "Here, +let me at that switchboard." He pushed the boy aside, and sat down in +the vacated chair. + +"Which trunk is it on? Oh, I see, the second. There Captain, take the +fourth booth against the wall." + +Cronin stepped in. Shirley connected up and listened with the +transmitter of the operator at his ear, holding the line open. + +"Go ahead, here's Captain Cronin!" + +A pleasant voice came over the wire. It was musical and sincere. + +"Hello, Captain Cronin, is that you?" + +"Yes! What do you want?" + +The voice continued, with a jolly laugh, ringing and infectious in its +merriment. + +"Well, Captain, the joke's on you. Ha, ha, ha! It's a bully one! Ho, ho! +Ha, ha!" + +"What joke?" + +"You're working on the Van Cleft case. Oh, sure, you are, don't kid me +back. Well, Captain, you've missed two other perfectly good grafts. This +is the third one!" + +There was a click and the speaker, with another merry gurgle, rang off. + +"Quick, manager's desk," cried Shirley, jiggling the metal key. "What +call was that? Where did it come from?" + +After a little wait, a languid voice answered: "Brooklyn, Main 6969, +Party C." + +"Give me the number again--I want to speak on the wire." + +After another delay, the voice replied "The line has been discontinued." + +"I just had it! What is the name of the subscriber. Hurry, this is a +matter of life and death." + +"It's against the rules to give any further information. But our record +shows that the house burned down about two weeks ago. No one else has +been given the number. There's no instrument there!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE FLEETING PROMPTER + + +Monty's puzzled smile was in no wise reciprocated by the Captain, whose +red face evidenced a growing resentment. + +He began a tirade, but a wink from the club man warned him. Shirley +replaced the receiver, and the regular attendant resumed his place +at the switchboard. The lad was curious at the unusual ability of +the wealthy Mr. Shirley to handle the bewildering maze of telephone +attachments. Monty explained, as he turned to go upstairs. + +"Son, that was one of my smart friends trying to play a practical joke +on my guest. I fooled him. Don't let it happen again, until you send in +the party's name first." + +"Yes, sir," meekly promised the boy. + +"Well, Captain Cronin, as the old paperback novels used to say at the +end of the first instalment, 'The Plot thickens!' At first I thought +this case of stupid badger game--" + +"You aren't going to back out, Monty? Here's a whole gang of crooks +which would give you some sport rounding up, and as for money--" + +"Money is easy, from both sides of a criminal matter. What interests me +is that ghostly telephone call from a house that burned down, and the +caller's knowledge of Number Three. I'm in this case, have no fear of +that." + +Shirley led his guest to the coat room. + +"I'll get a taxicab, Monty. We'd better see that girl first and then +have a look at the body." + +The Captain turned to the door, as the attendant helped Monty with his +overcoat. The waiter from the grill-room approached. "Excuse me, sir, +but the gentleman dropped his handkerchief in his chair opposite you." + +"Thank you, Gordon," he said, as he faced the servant for an instant. +When he turned again, toward the front hall, the Captain had passed out +of view through the front door. + +Shirley received a surprise when he reached the pavement on Forty-fourth +Street, for Captain Cronin was not in sight. Two club men descended the +steps of the neighboring house. Others strolled along toward the Avenue, +but not a sign of a vehicle of any description could be seen, nor was +there anything suspicious in view. Cronin had disappeared as effectually +as though he had taken a passing Zeppelin! + +"I'm glad this affair will not bore me," murmured the criminologist, as +he evolved and promptly discarded a dozen vain theories to explain the +disappearance of his companion. + +Twenty minutes were wasted along the block, as he waited for some sight +or sign. Then he decided to go on up to Van Cleft's residence. But, +realizing the probability of "shadow" work upon all who came from the +door of the club, after the curious message on the wire, Shirley did not +propose to expose his hand. Walking leisurely to the Avenue, he hailed +a passing hansom. He directed the driver to carry him to an address on +Central Park West. His shrewdness was not wasted, for as he stepped into +the vehicle, he espied a slinking figure crossing the street diagonally +before him, to disappear into the shadow of an adjacent doorway. This +was the house of Reginald Van Der Voor, as Shirley knew. It was closed +because its master, a social acquaintance of the club man's, was at this +time touring the Orient in his steam yacht. No man should have entered +that doorway. So, as the horse started under the flick of the long whip, +Shirley peered unobserved through the glass window at his side. + +A big machine swung up behind the hansom, at some unseen hail, and +the figure came from the doorway, leaping into the car, as it followed +Shirley up the Avenue, a block or so behind. + +"It is not always so easy to follow, when the leader knows his chase," +thought Shirley. "I'm glad I'm only a simple club man." + +The automobile was unmistakably trailing him, as the hansom crossed the +Plaza, then sped through the Park drive, to the address he had given his +driver. + +As Shirley had remembered, this was a large apartment house, in which +one of his bachelor friends lived. He knew the lay of the building well: +next door, with an entrance facing on the side street was another just +like it, and of equal height. + +"Wait for me, here," said Shirley. "I'll pay you now, but want to go to +an address down town in five minutes." + +He gave the driver a bill, then entered and told the elevator man to +take him to the ninth floor. + +"There's nobody in, boss," began the boy. But Shirley shook his head. + +"My friend is expecting me for a little card game, that's why you think +he is out. Just take me up." + +He handed the negro a quarter, which was complete in its logic. + +As he reached the floor, he waved to the elevator operator. "Go on +down, and don't let any one else come up, for Mr. Greenough doesn't want +company." + +As the car slid down, Shirley fumbled along the familiar hall to the +iron stairs which led to the roof of the building. Up these he hurried, +thence out upon the roof. It was a matter of only four minutes before +he had crossed to the next apartment building, opened the door of the +roof-entry, found the stairs to the ninth floor, and taken this elevator +to the street. + +He walked out of the building, and turned toward Central Park West, to +slyly observe the entrance of the building where waited the faithful +hansom Jehu. A young man was in conversation with the driver, and the +big automobile could be seen on the other side of the street awaiting +further developments. + +"He has a long vigil there," laughed Shirley. "Now, for the real +address. I think I lost the hounds for this time." + +Another vehicle took him through the Park to the darkened mansion of +the Van Clefts'. Here, Shirley's card brought a quick response from the +surprised son of the dead millionaire. + +"Why--why--I'm glad to see you, Mr. Shirley--Who sent you?" he began. + +Shirley registered complete surprise. "Sent me, my dear Van Cleft? Who +should send me? For what? It just happened that I was walking up the +Avenue, and to-morrow night I plan to give a little farewell supper +to Hal Bingley, class of '03, at the club You knew him in College? I +thought you might like to come." + +"Step in the library," requested Van Cleft, weakly. "Sit down, Mr. +Shirley--I'm upset to-night." + +He mopped his brow with a damp handkerchief, and Shirley's big heart +went out to the young chap, as he saw the haggard lines of horror and +grief on his usually pleasant face. + +"What's the trouble, old man? Anything I can do?" + +"My father just died this evening, and I'm in awful trouble--I thought +it was the Coroner, or the police--" he bit his tongue as the last +words escaped him. Shirley put his hand on Van Cleft's shoulder, with an +inspiring firmness. + +"Tell me how I can help. You've had a big shock. Confide in me, and I +pledge you my word, I'll keep it safer than any one you could go to." + +Van Cleft groped as a drowning man, at this opportunity. He caught +Shirley's hand and wrung it tensely. + +"Sit down. The doctor is still upstairs with mother and sister. When the +Coroner comes, I would like to have you be here as a witness. It's an +ordeal--I'll tell you everything." + +Shirley listened attentively, without betraying his own knowledge. +Soothing in manner, he questioned the son about any possible enemy of +the murdered man. + +"There's not one I know. Dad is popular--he's been too gay, lately, +but just foolish like a lot of rich men. He wouldn't harm any one. He +inherited his money, you know. Didn't have to crush the working people. +Like me, he's been endeavoring to spend it ever since he was born, but +it comes in too fast from our estates." + +He looked up apprehensively, at the sympathetic face of his companion. + +"It's very unwise to tell this. I suppose it's a State's prison offence +to deceive about murder. But you understand our position: we can't +afford to let it become gossip. I'll pay this girl anything to go to +Europe or the Antipodes!" + +"I wouldn't do that," suggested Shirley, thoughtfully. "Let her stay. +You would like to bring the culprit to justice, if it can be done +without dragging your name into it. If he has planned this, he has +executed other schemes. She certainly would not remain the machine if +she were the guilty one. Why not employ a good detective?" + +"I did, but hesitated to tell you. I secured Captain Cronin, of the +Holland Agency. He's managed everything so far--I was too rattled +myself. But, I wonder why he isn't here now? He was to return as soon as +he visited the garage." + +As Van Cleft spoke, the butler approached with hesitation. + +"Beg pardon, sir. But you are wanted on the telephone, sir." + +"All right, Hoskins. Connect it with the library instrument." + +Van Cleft lifted the receiver nervously, and answered in an unsteady +voice. + +"Yes--This is Van Cleft's residence." + +Silence for a bit, then the wire was busy. + +"What's that? Captain Cronin? What about him? Let me speak to him." + +Shirley was alert as a cat. Van Cleft was too dazed to understand his +sudden move, as the criminologist caught up the receiver, and placed his +palm for an instant over the mouthpiece. + +"Ask him to say it again--that you didn't understand." Shirley removed +his hand, and obeyed. Shirley held the receiver to his ear, as the young +man spoke. Then he heard these curious words: "You poor simp, you'd +better get that family doctor of yours to give you some ear medicine, +and stop wasting time with the death certificate. I told you that Cronin +was over in Bellevue Hospital with a fractured skull. Unless you drop +this investigating, you'll get one, too. Ta, ta! Old top!" + +The receiver was hung up quickly at the other end of the line. + +Shirley gave a quick call for "Information," and after several minutes +learned that the call came from a drug store pay-station in Jersey City! + +The melodious tones were unmistakably those of the speaker who had used +the wire from faraway Brooklyn where the house had been burned down! +It was a human impossibility for any one to have covered the distance +between the two points in this brief time, except in an aeroplane! + +Van Cleft wondered dumbly at his companion's excitement. Shirley caught +up the telephone again. + +"Some one says that Cronin is at Bellevue Hospital, injured. I'll find +out." + +It was true. Captain Cronin was lying at point of death, the ward nurse +said, in answer to his eager query. At first the ambulance surgeon had +supposed him to be drunk, for a patrolman had pulled him out of a dark +doorway, unconscious. + +"Where was the doorway? This is his son speaking, so tell me all." + +"Just a minute. Oh! Here is the report slip. He was taken from the +corner of Avenue A and East Eleventh Street. You'd better come down +right away, for he is apt to die tonight. He's only been here ten +minutes." + +"Has any one else telephoned to find out about him?" + +"No. We didn't even know his name until just as you called up, when we +found his papers and some warrants in a pocketbook. How did you know?" + +But Shirley disconnected curtly, this time. He bowed his head in +thought, and then, with his usual nervous custom, fumbled for a +cigarette. Here was the Captain, whom he had left on Forty-fourth +Street, near Fifth Avenue, a short time before, discovered fully three +miles away. + +And the news telephoned from Jersey City, by the fleeting magic voice +on the wire. Even his iron composure was stirred by this weird +complication. + +"I wonder!" he murmured. He had ample reason to wonder. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE INNOCENT BYSTANDER + + +"Well, Mr. Shirley, your coming here was a Godsend! I don't know what +to do now. The newspapers will get this surely. I depended on Cronin: he +must have been drinking." + +Shirley shook his head, as he explained, "I know Cronin's reputation, +for I was a police reporter. He is a sterling man. There's foul work +here which extends beyond your father's case. But we are wasting time. +Why don't you introduce me to your physician? Just tell him about +Cronin, and that you have confided in me completely." + +Van Cleft went upstairs without a word. Unused to any worry, always able +to pay others for the execution of necessary details, this young man was +a victim of the system which had engulfed his unfortunate sire in the +maelstrom of reckless pleasure. + +By his ingenuous adroitness, it may be seen, Shirley was inveigling +himself into the heart of the affair, in his favorite disguise as that +of the "innocent bystander." His innate dramatic ability assisted him +in maintaining his friendly and almost impersonal role, with a success +which had in the past kept the secret of his system from even the +evildoers themselves. + +"A little investigation of the telephone exchanges during the next day +or two will not be wasted time," he mused. "I'll get Sam Grindle, their +assistant advertising manager to show me the way the wheels go 'round. +No man can ride a Magic Carpet of Bagdad over the skyscrapers in these +days of shattered folklore." + +Howard Van Cleft returned with the famous surgeon, Professor MacDonald. +He was elderly, with the broad high forehead, dignity of poise, and +sharpness of glance which bespeaks the successful scientist. His face, +to-night, was chalky and the firm, full mouth twitched with nervousness. +He greeted Shirley abstractedly. The criminologist's manner was that of +friendly anxiety. + +"You are here, sir, as a friend of the family?" + +"Yes. Howard has told me of the terrible mystery of this case. As an +ex-newspaper man I imagine that my influence and friendships may keep +the unpleasant details from the press." + +"That is good," sighed the doctor, with relief. "How soon will you do +it?" + +"Now, using this telephone. No, for certain reasons, I had better use an +outside instrument. I will call up men I know on each paper, as though +this were a 'scoop,' so that knowing me, they will be confident that +I tell them the truth as a favor. Such deceit is excusable under the +circumstances. It may eventually bring the murderer to justice." + +Professor MacDonald winced at the word. He turned toward Van Cleft, on +sudden thought, remarking: "Howard your mother and sister may need the +comfort of your presence. I will chat with your friend until the Coroner +comes." + +The physician sank into a library chair. The criminologist quietly +awaited his cue. He lit a cigarette and the minutes drifted past with no +word between them. The doctor's gaze lowered to the vellum-bound books +on the carven table, then to the gorgeous pattern of the Kermansha at +his feet. Once more he studied the face of his companion, with the keen, +soul-gripping scrutiny of the skilled physician. As last he arrived at a +definite conclusion. He cleared his throat, and fumbled in his waistcoat +pocket for a cigar. A swiftly struck match in Monty's hand was held +up so promptly to the end of the cigar, that the doctor's lips had not +closed about it. This deftness, simple in itself, did not escape the +observation of the scientist. He smiled for the first time during their +interview. + +"Your reflex nerves are very wide awake for a quiet man. I believe I can +depend upon those nerves, and your quietude. May I ask what occupation +you follow, if any? Most of Howard's friends follow butterflies." + +"I am one of them, then. Some opera, more theatricals, much art gallery +touring. A little regular reading in my rooms, and there you are! My +great grandfather was too poor a trader to succeed in pelts, so he +invested a little money in rocky pastures around upper Manhattan: this +has kept the clerks of the family bankers busy ever since. I am an +optimistic vagabond, enjoying life in the observation of the rather +ludicrous busyness of other folk. In short, Doctor, I am a corpulent +Hamlet, essentially modern in my cultivation of a joy in life, debating +the eternal question with myself, but lazily leaving it to others to +solve. Therein I am true to my type." + +"Pardon my bluntness," observed MacDonald, watching him through +partially closed eyes. "You are not telling the truth. You are a busy +man, with definite work, but that is no affair of mine. I recognize in +you a different calibre from that of these rich young idlers in Howard's +class. I am going to take you into my confidence, for you understand the +need for secrecy, and will surely help in every way--noblesse oblige. +This man Cronin, the detective, was rather crude." + +"He is honest and dependable," replied Shirley, loyally. + +"Yes, but I wonder why professional detectives are so primitive. They +wear their calling cards and their business shingles on their figures +and faces. Surely the crooks must know them all personally. I read +detective stories, in rest moments, and every one of the sleuths lives +in some well-known apartment, or on a prominent street. Some day we +may read of one who is truly in secret service, but not until after his +death notice. But there, I am talking to quiet my own nerves a bit,--now +we will get to cases." + +The doctor dropped his cigar into the bronze tray on the table, leaning +forward with intense earnestness, as he continued. + +"This, Mr. Shirley, is the third murder of the sort within a week. +Wellington Serral, the wealthy broker, came to a sudden death in a +private dining room last Monday, in the company of a young show girl. +He was a patient of mine, and I signed the death certificate as +heart failure, to save the honorable family name for his two orphaned +daughters. + +"Herbert de Cleyster, the railroad magnate, died similarly in a taxicab +on Thursday. He was also one of my patients. There, too, was concerned +another of these wretched chorus girls. To-night the fatal number of the +triad was consummated in this cycle of crime. To maintain my loyalty +to my patients I have risked my professional reputation. Have I done +wrong?" + +"No! The criminal shall be brought to justice," replied Shirley in a +voice vibrant with a profound determination which was not lost upon his +companion. + +"Are you powerful enough to bring this about, without disgracing me +or betraying this sordid tragedy to the morbid scandal-rakers of the +papers?" + +"I will devote every waking hour to it. But, like you, my efforts must +remain entirely secret. I vow to find this man before I sleep again!" + +"You are determined--yet it cannot be one single man. It must be an +organized gang, for all the crimes have been so strangely similar, +occurring to three men who are friends, and entrez nous, notorious for +their peccadilloes. The girls must be in the vicious circle, and ably +assisted. But there is one thing I forgot to tell you, which you forgot +to ask." + +"And this is?" + +"How they died. It was by some curious method of sudden arterial +stoppage. Old as they were, some fiendish trick was employed so +skilfully that the result was actual heart failure. There was no trace +of drugs in lungs or blood. On each man's breast, beneath the sternum +bone I found a dull, barely discernible bruise mark, which I later +removed by a simple massage of the spot!" + +Shirley closed his eyes, and passed his hand over his own chest--along +the armpits--behind his ears--he seemed to be mentally enumerating some +list of nerve centers. The physician observed him curiously. + +"I have it, doctor! The sen-si-yao!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"The most powerful and secret of all the death-strokes of the Japanese +art of jiu-jitsu fighting. I paid two thousand dollars to learn the +course from a visiting instructor when I was in college. It was worth it +for this one occasion." + +Shirley arose to his feet, and approached the other, touching his +shoulder. + +"Stand up, if you please. Let me ask if this was the location of the +mark?" + +The physician, interested in this new professional phase, readily +obeyed. One quick movement of Shirley's muscular hand, the thumb oddly +twisted and stiffened, and a sudden jab in the doctor's abdomen made +that gentleman gasp with pain. Shirley's expression was triumphant, but +the professor regarded him with an expression of terror. + +"Oh! Ugh!--What-did-you-do-to me?" he murmured thickly, when he was at +last able to speak. + +"Merely demonstrated the beginning of the death punch which I named. +That pressure if continued for half a minute would have been fatal." + +"I wish you would teach me that," was the physician's natural request, +as he nodded with a wry face. + +"Impossible, my dear sir, for I learned it, according to the Oriental +custom under the most sacred obligations of secrecy. One must advance +through the whole course, by initiatory degrees, before learning the +final mysteries of the samurais. Now, we have a working hypothesis. The +girls could never have accomplished this. One man and one alone must +have killed the three, although doubtless with confederates. Yamashino +assured me that there were only six men in this country who knew it +beside myself. We must find an Orientalist!" + +Shirley paced the floor, but his meditations were interrupted by the +arrival of the Coroner and his physician. Van Cleft hurried into the +room with them, to present the doctor, who exchanged a formal greeting +with the men he had met twice before that week. + +"A sad affair, Professor," observed the Coroner nervously, drinking in +with profound respect the magnificent surroundings which symbolized +the great wealth of which he secretly hoped to gain a tithing. "I trust +that, as usual, in such cases, I may suggest an undertaker?" + +"Why--talk about that at once, sir?" asked Howard with a shudder. + +The physician, familiar with the subtleties of coroners, gently placed +an arm about the young man's shoulder. He nodded, understandingly, to +the Coroner, as he turned toward Shirley. + +"I must be going now," the latter interposed. "Just a word with you, +Howard, that I may send a message to your mother and sister." + +The physician led away the two officials as Shirley continued: "I must +go to see Cronin--deserted there like a run-over mongrel on the street. +Can I leave this house by the rear, so that none shall know of my +assistance in the case, or follow me to the hospital? If you can secure +an old hat and coat, I will leave my own, with my stick, to get them +some other time." + +"I will get some from the butler, if you wait just a moment. You can +leave by the rear yard, if you don't mind climbing a high board fence." + +Van Cleft hurried downstairs, in a few minutes, bearing a weather-beaten +overcoat and an English cap, which Shirley drew down over his ears. With +the coat on, he looked very unlike the well-groomed club man who had +entered. Unseen by Van Cleft he shifted an automatic revolver into the +coat pocket from the discarded garment. + +"Now, Mr. Shirley, come this way. Follow the rear area-way, across to +the next yard, where after another climb you find a vacant lot where the +Schuylers are preparing to erect their new city house. Will you attend +to everything?" + +"Everything. I'll start sooner than you expect." + +Truly he did! For no sooner had he descended the second fence into the +empty lot than a stinging blow sent him at full length on the rocky +ground, where the excavations were already being started. Two men +pounced upon him in a twinkling--only his great strength, acquired +through the football years, saved him from immediate defeat. His +head throbbed, and he was dizzy as he caught the wrist of the nearest +assailant with a quick twist which resulted in a sudden, sickening +crunch. The man groaned in agony, but his companion kicked with +heavy-shod feet at the prostrate man. Shirley's left hand duplicated +the vice-like grip upon the ankle of the standing assailant, and his +deftness caused another tendon strain! Both men toppled to the ground, +now, and before they realized it Shirley had reversed the advantage. +His automatic emphasized his superiority of tactics. He understood their +silence, broken only by muted groans: they feared the police, even as +did he, although for different reasons. He "frisked" the man nearest him +upon the ground, and captured deftly the rascal's weapon: then he sprang +up covering the twain. + +"Get up! Youse guys is poachin' in de wrong district--dis belongs to de +Muggins gang. I'll fix youse guys fer buttin' in. Up, dere!" His hands +went into his coat pockets, but the men knew that they were still +pointing at them, the gunman's "cover" as it is called. They staggered +sullenly to their feet. He beckoned with his head, toward the front of +the lot. They followed the silent instructions, one limping while his +mate wrung the injured wrist in agony. + +Directly before the lot stood a throbbing, empty automobile. Shirley +decided to take another car--he could not guard them and drive at the +same time. + +"Down to Fift' Avnoo," he ordered. "I got two guns--not a woid +from youse!" His erstwhile amiable physiognomy, now gnarled into an +unrecognizable mask of low villainy bespoke his desperate earnestness. +The men obeyed. This was apparently a gangster, of gangsters--their fear +of the dire vengeance of a rival organization of cut-throats instilled +an obedience more humble than any other threats. + +Toward the Park side they advance, one leaning heavily upon the other. +Shirley, his broad shoulders hunched up; with the collar drawn high +about his neck, the murderous looking cap down over his eyes, followed +them doggedly. + +A big limousine was speeding down the Avenue from some homing theater +party. Shirley hailed it with an authoritive yell which caused the +chauffeur to put on a quick brake. + +"Git out dere,--no gun play. Up inter dat car!" he added, as they +approached the machine. + +"Say, what you drivin' at?" cried the driver, queruously. "Is this a +hold-up?" It was a puzzling moment, but the criminologist's calm bravado +saved the situation: as luck would have it no policemen were in sight, +to spoil the maneuver. + +"No," and he assumed a more natural voice and dialect. "I'm a detective. +These men were just house-breaking, and I got them. There's twenty-five +dollars in it for you, if you take us down to the Holland Detective +Agency, in ten minutes." + +"He's kiddin' ye, feller," snapped out one man. + +"Don't fall fen him, yen boob!" sung out the other. + +But Shirley's automatic now appeared outside the coat pocket. The +chauffeur realized that here was serious gaming. With his left hand +Shirley jerked out the ever ready police card and fire badge, which +seemed official enough to satisfy the driver. + +"Quick now, or I'll run you in, too, for refusing to obey an officer. +You men climb into that back seat. Driver, beat it now to Thirty-nine +West Forty Street, if you need that twenty-five dollars. I'll sit with +them. I don't want any interference so I can come back and nab the rest +of their gang." + +His authoritative manner convinced this new ally, and he climbed into +the car, facing his prisoners, with the two weapons held down below the +level of the windows. Pedestrians and other motorists little recked what +strange cargo was borne as the car raced down the broad thoroughfare. + +In nine minutes they drew up before the Holland Agency, a darkened, +brown front house of ancient architecture. The chauffeur sprang out to +swing back the door. + +"Go up the steps, and tell the doorman that Captain Cronin wants two men +to bring down their guns and handcuffs and get two prisoners. Quick!" + +The street was not empty, even at this hour. Yet the passersby did not +realize the grim drama enacted inside the waiting machine. Hours seemed +to pass before Cronin's men returned with the driver, as much surprised +by the three strange faces within the machine, as he had been. + +"You take these men upstairs and keep them locked up," bluntly commanded +the criminologist. "They're nabbed on the new case of the Captain's +which started to-night, I'm going over to Bellevue to see him." His +voice was still disguised, his features twisted even yet. + +The men gave him a curious glance, and then obeyed. As they disappeared +behind the heavy wooden door, Shirley stepped into a dark hallway, close +by. He lit a wax match to give him light for the choosing of the right +amount, from the roll of bills which he drew forth. The chauffeur +whistled with surprise at the size of the denominations. The twenty-five +were handed over. + +"Thanks very much, my friend," and the face unsnarled itself, into the +amiable lines of the normal. The voice was agreeable and smooth, which +surprised the man the more. "You took me out of a ticklish situation +tonight. I don't want any mere policemen to spoil my little game. Please +oil up your forgettery with these, and then--forget!" + +"Say, gov'nor," retorted the driver, as he put the money into the band +of his leather cap. "I ain't seen so much real change since my boss got +stung on the war. I ain't so certain but what you was the gink robbin' +that house, at that. But that's them guys funeral if you beat 'em to +it. Good-night--much obliged. But I got to slip it to you, gov'nor--you +ain't none of them Central Office flat-feet, sure 'nuff! If you are a +detective, you're some fly cop!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. A SCIENTIFIC NOVELTY + + +In a private ward room at Bellevue Hospital, Captain Cronin was just +returning to memory of himself and things that had been. Shirley arrived +at his cot-side as he was being propped up more comfortably. The older +man's face broke into game smiles, as the criminologist took the chair +provided by the pretty nurse. + +"Thanks, I'll have a little chat with my friend, if you don't think it +will do him any harm." + +"He is better now, sir. We feared he was fatally injured when they +brought him in. I'll be outside in the corridor if you need anything." + +She left not without an admiring look at the big chap, wondering why he +wore such disreputable superstructure with patent leather pumps and +silk hose showing below the ragged overcoat. Strange sights come to +hospitals, curiosity frequently leading to unprofitable knowledge: so +she was silently discreet. Shirley's garb was not unobserved by the +detective chief. Monty laughed reminiscently at the questioning glance. + +"These are my working clothes--a fine combination. I nabbed two of the +gang. But what became of you?" + +"Outside that club door, I wanted to save time for us both. I took +the first taxi in sight. Before I could even call out to you, the door +slammed on me, the shades flopped down, the car started up--the next +thing I knew this here nurse was sticking a spoon in my mouth, a-saying: +'Take this--it's fine for what ails you!'" + +"I wonder if it could have been the same machine they left at Van +Cleft's? I will tell you how things progressed." So he did, leaving +out only the confidence of Professor MacDonald. The Captain became +feverishly excited, until Shirley abjured him to beware of a relapse. +"You must be calm, for the next twenty-four hours: there will be much +for you to do, even then. Meanwhile, let me call up your agency; then +you give them instructions over this table telephone to let Howard Van +Cleft interview the little chorus girl, with his friend. I'll be the +friend." + +"I'm afraid I'm going to be snowed under in this case, Monty. The finest +job I've had these dozen years. But you're square, and will do all you +can." + +"Old friend, I'll do what I can to make Van Cleft and the newspapers +sure that you are the most wonderful sleuth inside or outside the public +library. Here's your office--speak up. Let me lift you." + +"Hello Pat!" called Cronin, as his superintendent came to the 'phone. "I +am detained at Bellevue, so that I can't be there when Van Cleft comes +down. Let him Third Degree that little Jane from the garage. Keep them +two men apart, too--oh, that's all right, the fellow is a friend of mine +on the 'Frisco police force. He won't butt in." Silence for a moment, +then: "Oh, shucks, let 'em yowl! They've got more than kidnapping to +worry about for the next twenty-five years." + +He hung up the receiver, sinking back on his pillows wan from the +strain. Monty handed him a glass of water, and adjusted the bandages +with a hand as tender as a woman's. He lifted the instrument again. + +"You are sterling, twenty-two carat and a yard wide, Captain! Now, get +to sleep while I find out who the ring-master is. I've sworn to keep +awake until I do. I think it well to telephone Van Cleft, and arrange +for a better get-a-way for us both." + +He was soon talking with the son of the murdered man. "Meet me down at +the Vanderbilt Hotel--ask for Mr. Hepburn's room, and send up the name +of Williams. See you in an hour. Good-bye." + +Hanging up the receiver, he turned toward the door, after a friendly pat +on Cronin's shoulder. The bell rang, and the Captain reached for it, to +sink back exhausted upon the bed. Shirley answered, to be greeted by a +pleasant feminine voice. + +"Is this Captain Cronin?" + +Instantly the criminologist replied affirmatively, suiting his tones as +best he could to the gruff voice of the detective chief, with a wink at +that worthy. + +"I just called up, Captain, to ask about you--Oh, you don't recognize my +voice. I'm Miss Wilberforce, private secretary to Mr. Van Cleft. Has any +one been to see you yet? I understand that you are very busy, and have +already missed two other good cases, this one being the THIRD! Well, +don't hurry, Captain. You may get the rest to come--if you live long +enough. Good-bye!" + +Shirley looked at Cronin, startled. Another mention of the mystic +number. He called for information about the origin of the call. + +"Lordee, son! Are they at it again?" asked Cronin in disgust. + +"Yes--overdoing it. One thing is clear, that whoever is behind this +telephone trickery is very clever, and very conceited over that +cleverness. It may be a costly vanity. Yes, information?" + +"The call was from Rector 2190-D. The American Sunday School +Organization, sir--It doesn't answer now; the office must be closed." + +Shirley put the instrument down, with a smile on his pursed lips. He +waved a good natured farewell to his friend, as he drew the cap down +over his eyes. + +"Look a little happier, Captain. I'll send down some fruit and a special +vintage from our club which has bottled up in it the sunlight of a +dozen years in Southern France. I hope they keep the telephone wires +busy--they may tangle themselves up in their own spider-web!" + +Leaving the hospital, he hurried to the hotel. One of his secret +idiosyncracies was a custom of "living around" at a number of hotels, +under aliases. Maintaining pleasant suites in each, he kept full +supplies of linen and garments, while effectively blotting out his own +identity for "doubling" work. + +He was known as "Mr. Hepburn" here, and entering the side door he was +subjected to the curious gaze of only one servant, the operator of the +small elevator. Once in the shelter of his quarters he rummaged through +some scrap-books for data--he found it in a Sunday feature story +published a month before in a semi-theatrical paper. It described with +rollicking sarcasm, a gay "millionaire" party which had been given in +Rector's private dining rooms. Among the ridiculed hosts were Van Cleft, +Wellington Serral and Herbert De Cleyster! Here, in some elusive manner, +ran the skein of truth which if followed would lead to the solution of +mystery. He must carve out of this mass of pregnant clues the essentials +upon which to act, as the sculptor chisels the marble of a huge block to +expose the figure of his inspiration, encased there all the time! + +"To find out the source of their golden-haired nymphs for this +merry-merry, that is the question! Some stage doorkeeper might be +persuaded to unburden what soul he has left!" + +He jotted in his memorandum book the names of the other eight wealthy +men who were pilloried by the journalist. The younger men, +Shirley felt sure, were of that peculiarly Manhattanse type of +hanger-on--well-groomed, happy-go-hellward youths who danced, laughed +and drank well,--so essential to the philanderings of these rich old +Harlequins and their gilded Columbines. As he scribbled, the telephone +of the room tinkled its summons. + +He started toward it: then his invaluable intuition prompted him to +walk into the adjoining room, where another instrument stood on a small +table, handy to the bed. Only two people could possibly know he was +there. Van Cleft could not have arrived, as yet. The other bell jingled +impatiently, but Shirley finally heard the voice of the switch-board +girl. + +"I'm trying to get you on the other wire, sir. There's a call." + +"Don't connect me," he hurriedly ordered, "except to open the switch, so +I may listen. If I hang up without a word, tell the party I will be back +in twenty minutes." + +With a hotel telephone girl tact is more important than even the +knowledge of wire-knitting. It was the woman's voice which he had heard +at the hospital. Captain Cronin was anxious to speak to Mr. Williams, +who was calling on Mr. Hepburn! With the biggest jolt of this day of +surprises Shirley disconnected and whistled. Again he laughed--with that +grim chuckle which was so characteristic of his supreme battling mood! +They had found the trail even quicker than he had expected. Fortunate +it was that he had not mentioned his own name in telephoning from +the hospital to Howard. Not a wire was safe from these mysterious +eaves-droppers now. He hurried into a business suit, and left the hotel, +to walk over Thirty-fourth Street to the studio of his friend, Hammond +Bell. Here he was admitted, to find the portrait-painter finishing a +solitary chafing-dish supper. + +"Delighted, Monty! Join me in the encore on this creamed chicken and +mushrooms!" + +"Too rich for my primitive blood, Hammond. I'm in a hurry to get a +favor." + +"I've received enough at your hands--say the word." + +"Simply this: I want to experiment with sound waves. I remembered that +once in a while some of these wild Bohemian friends of yours warbled +post-impressionist love-songs into your phonograph. It stood the strain, +and so must be a good one. It is too late now to get one in a shop; will +you lend me the whole outfit, with the recording attachment as well, for +to-night and to-morrow?" + +"The easiest thing you know. Let's slide it into this grip--you can +carry the horn." + +Three minutes later Shirley made his exit, and soon was shaking hands +with Van Cleft in his own room at the hotel. He sketched his idea +hurriedly, as he adjusted the instrument on the dressing-table near the +telephone. + +"When the call comes, be sure to say: 'Get closer, I can't hear you.' +That's the method, and it's so simple it is almost silly." They were +barely ready when the bell warned them. At Van Cleft's reply, when the +call for "Mr. Williams" Shirley pushed the horn close to the telephone +receiver. Van Cleft twisted it, so as to give the best advantage, and +demanded that the speaker come closer to the 'phone. + +"Can you hear me now?" asked the feminine voice. "Do you hear me now?" + +"No, speak louder. This is Mr. Williams. Speak up. I can't understand +you." The voice was petulant and so distinct that even Shirley could +hear it, as he knelt by the side of the phonograph. Again Van Cleft +insisted on his deafness. There was the suggestion of a break in the +voice which brought to Shirley's eyes the sparkle of a presentiment of +success. At last Van Cleft admitted that he could hear. + +"Well, you fool, I've a message for your friend Mr. Van Cleft." + +"Which one?" was the innocent inquiry, as he forgot for an instant that +now he was the sole bearer of that name. + +"The one that's left. Tell him there will be none left if he continues +this gum-shoe work. He had better let well enough alone, and let that +little girl get out of town as soon as possible. The papers will go +crazy over a scandal like this, and some one is apt to grab Van Cleft. +That's all. Good-bye!" + +Silently Shirley shut off the lever of the machine, to catch up the +receiver. As before his endeavor to locate the call resulted in a new +address: this time in the Bronx! + +"Ah, the lady leaps from the business district to the Bronx in half an +hour. That is what I call some traveling." + +Van Cleft studied him with open mouth, as he withdrew the phonograph +record, coating it with the preservative to make the tiny lines +permanent. + +"In the name of common sense, who was that? And what's this phonograph +game?" he demanded. + +"The second question may answer the first before sunrise, unless I am +badly mistaken. I have heard an old adage which declares that if you +give a man long enough rope he will hang himself. My new application is +that you let him talk enough he is apt to sing his own swan song, for a +farewell perch on the electric chair at Sing Sing!" + +Then he lit a cigarette and packed up the phonograph. + + + + +CHAPTER V. THE MISBEHAVIOR OF THE 'PHONE + + +Still befuddled by the unusual events of the day, Howard Van Cleft was +unable to delight in a theoretical discovery. Personal fear began to +manifest itself. + +"Mr. Shirley, you're going at this too strong. We know the guilty +party--this miserable girl in the machine. We want to hush it up and let +things go at that." + +"We're hushing it, aren't we?" demanded Shirley, as he placed the record +in the grip. "Don't you see the wisdom of knowing who may systematically +blackmail you after secrecy is obtained. This is a matter of the future, +as well as the present." + +"But I don't want to lose my own life--I am young, with life before me, +and I want to let well enough alone, after these threats." + +"I am afraid that you have a yellow streak." His lip curled as he +studied the pallid features of the heir to the Van Cleft millions. +Fearless himself, he could still understand the tremors of this +care-free butterfly: yet he knew he must crush the dangerous thoughts +which were developing. "If you mistrust me, hustle for yourself. You +have the death-certificate, the services will be over in a few days, and +then you will have enough money to live on your father's yacht or terra +firma for the rest of your life, in the China Sea, or India, as far away +from Broadway chorus girls as you want. That might be safe." + +He gazed out of the window, toward the twinkling lights far away across +the East River. His sarcasm made Van Cleft wince as though from a whip +lash. The latter mopped his forehead and tried to steady his voice, as +he replied with all humility. + +"You're a brick, and I don't mean to offend you. Today has been +terrible, you know: this tornado has swept me from my moorings. I don't +know where to turn." + +"I am thoughtless," and Shirley's warm hand grasped the flaccid fingers +of the young man. "Forgive me for letting my interest run away with my +sympathies. I'm thinking of the future, more than mere protection from +newspaper scandal. This crime is so ingenious that I believe it has a +more powerful motive than mere robbery. You are now at the head of a +great house of finance and society. You must guard your mother and your +sister, and those yet to come. A deadly snake is writhing its slimy +trail somewhere: here--there--'round about us! Who knows where it will +strike next? Who knows how far that blow may reach--even unto China, or +wherever you run?" + +He hesitated, studying the effect upon Van Cleft, who dropped limply +into a chair, his eyes dark with terror. The psychological ruse had won. +Selfish cowardice, which temporarily threatened to ruin his campaign, +now gave way to the instinct of a fighting defense. + +"There, Van Cleft, it is ghastly. You have the significance now: we must +scotch the snake. That girl is over at the Holland Agency, and we should +see her at once, to learn what she knows. Cronin has arranged for my +coming with you, so introduce me under my real name. + +"Wait here fifteen minutes after I leave, so that I may get the +phonograph in readiness, for you will undoubtedly be shadowed, and that +may mean another telephone call. You were not a coward in college--I do +not believe you are one now!" + +Van Cleft straightened up proudly. + +"No, I will fight them with all I have. But why these phonograph +records: isn't one enough?" + +"No, I want autographs of all the voices. I will go now. Don't hurry in +following me. Do not fear to let any shadowers see you--it will help us +along." + +Before many minutes he had been admitted to the corridor of the Holland +Agency by a sharp-nosed individual who regarded him with suspicion. The +operatives were undoubtedly expecting trouble from all quarters, for +three other large men of the "bull" type, heavy-jowled, ponderous men, +surrounded him as he presented his card. + +"I am the friend of Howard Van Cleft, about whom Captain Cronin +telephoned you from Bellevue. I am to help him interview the girl: may I +wait until he arrives?" + +"Oh, you're wise to the case? Sure then, come into the reception room on +the right. What's that in your grip?" asked the apparent leader of the +men. + +"Just an idea of Van Cleft's," said Shirley, as he followed into the +adjoining compartment. "It's a phonograph. Have you received any phoney +'phone calls to-night? Queer ones that you didn't expect and couldn't +explain? Van Cleft has, and he decided to take records of them on this +machine." + +The superintendent nodded. Shirley opened the grip and drew out the +instrument, and made ready on the small table, near which was the desk +telephone. + +"Let's get this in readiness then, and if you get any calls have them +switched up to this instrument, so that when you talk, you can hold the +receiver handy to the horn." + +"Young feller, I think you must know more about this business than +you've a right to. Just keep your hands above the table--I think I'll +frisk you!" + +"No need," snapped Shirley with a smile in his eyes, and the automatic +revolver was drawn and covering the detective before he could reach +forward. "But I have no designs on you. You will have to work quicker +than that with some people in this case." + +He slid the weapon across the table to the other who snatched it +anxiously. + +"If a call comes and you don't recognize the voice at once, please ask +the party to come closer to the 'phone, to speak louder--listen, there +is the bell now! Get it connected here at once!" + +The surprised superintendent, fearing that after all he might miss +some good lead, yielded to his professional curiosity against his +professional prejudices. He bawled down the hall. + +"Switch on up here, Mike. I'll talk." He caught up the instrument, as +Shirley dropped to his knees beside him, to swing the horn into place. + +"What's that?" he shouted over the wire. "Yes, shure it is--What's that +you say?--I don't get you, cull--You want to speak to the girl?--What +girl?--Talk louder. Hire a hall!--Say, I ain't no mind reader! Speak +up." + +Over the instrument came the phrase once more: "Can you hear me now?" + +It was the man's voice! Shirley was exultant. + +"Yes, I hear you. What do you want?" + +"I want to call for my sister, if you're going to let her go. I want--" + +An inspiration prompted Shirley to press down the prongs of the +receiver. The connection was stopped, and the superintendent turned upon +him angrily. + +"You spoiled that, you nut! We was just about to find out who her +brother was--say, who are you, anyway?" + +"There, don't you worry. That makes another call certain. Don't you see? +That's what I'm playing for. But here comes Van Cleft, who will tell you +I am all right." + +The millionaire entered the hallway before any serious altercation could +arise. He greeted Shirley warmly and introduced him to Pat Cleary. The +man was mollified. + +"Well, I'm Captain Cronin's right bower, and I thinks as how this guy +is the joker of the deck trying to make a dirty deuce out of me. But, +if you want to see the girl, she's right upstairs. His work was a little +speedy on first acquaintance. Nick, keep your eyes on this machine, for +we may get another call on this floor--This way gentlemen. Watch your +step, for the hallway's dark." + +The girl was imprisoned in a windowless room on the second floor. As the +door opened, Shirley beheld a pitiful sight. Attired in the finery of +the Rialto, she lay prone upon a couch in the center of the dingy room, +sobbing hysterically. Her blonde hair was disheveled, her features wan +and distorted from her paroxysms of fear and grief. Like a frightened +animal, she sprang to her feet as they entered the room, retreating +to the wall, her trembling hands spread as though to brace her from +falling. + +"I didn't do it! I swear! The old fool was soused and I don't know what +was the matter with me. But I didn't kill any one in the world!" + +"There, sit down, little girl, and don't get frightened. This gentleman +and I have come to learn the truth--not to punish you for something you +didn't do. Start with the beginning and tell all you remember." + +Shirley's gentle manner was so unexpected, his voice so inspiring that +she relaxed, sinking to the floor, as Shirley caught her limp girlish +form in his arms. He placed her on the couch again, and she regained +her composure under his calm urging. Little by little she visualized +the details of the gruesome evening and narrated them under the magnetic +cross-questions of the criminologist. + +She had met the elder Van Cleft in the tea-room of a Broadway hostelry, +by appointment made the evening before at Pinkie Taylor's birthday +party. After several drinks together they took a taxicab to ride uptown +to a little chop house. Did she see any one she knew in the tea-room? Of +course, several of the fellows and girls whom she couldn't remember just +now, buzzed about, for Van Cleft was a liberal entertainer around the +youngsters. She had five varieties of cocktails in succession, and +she became dizzy. In the taxicab she became dizzier and when next she +remembered anything definite she was sitting on the stool in the garage +where she had been arrested. That was all. As she reached this point +there came a knock on the door with a call for Van Cleft. + +"You Van's son!" she screamed. Then she fainted, while Shirley caught +her, calling an assistant to care for her, as he followed Van Cleft +downstairs to answer the telephone. "You know your cues?" + +The millionaire nodded, as with trembling fingers he caught up +the instrument and knelt on the bare floor to hold it close to the +phonograph, which Shirley was engineering, with a fresh record in place. + +"Hello! Hello, there, I say. Hello!" + +Shirley strained his ears, to hear this time a rough, wheezy voice which +caused the two men to exchange startled glances, as it proceeded: "Is +this you, Howard, my boy?" + +"What do you want? I can't hear you. The telephone is buzzing. Louder +please!" + +Shirley nodded approbation, as the machine ran along merrily. + +"Now, can you hear me. Ahem! Can you hear me now? Is this Howard Van +Cleft?" + +"Yes, go ahead, but louder still." + +"Now, can you hear me? This is your father's dearest friend, +Howard,--this is William Grimsby speaking. I am fearfully distressed and +shocked to learn of his death, my poor boy. And Howard, I am grieved +to learn that there is some little scandal about it. As your father's +confidential adviser, I urge you to hush it up at all cost. I was told +at your home just now by one of the servants that you had gone to this +vulgar detective agency." + +Here Shirley shut off the phonograph, addressing Van Cleft with his hand +over the mouthpiece of the telephone for the minute. + +"Keep on talking until I return. Get his advice about flowers and +everything else you can think of." + +Then he ran from the room, into the hallway, out of the door, and down +the stoop to Fortieth Street. He looked about uncertainly, then espied +across the way a tailor shop, where the light of the late workman still +burned. Monty hurried thither and asked the use of the telephone upon +the wall. + +"Shuair, mister, but it will cost you a dime, for I have to pay the gas +and the rent." + +From the telephone directory he obtained the address and number of +William Grimsby, the banker. He received an answer promptly. The +servant, after learning his name promised to call the master. A gruff +voice answered soon. Mr. Grimsby declared that he had been reading in +his library for the last two hours, undisturbed by any telephone calls. +Shirley expressed a doubt. + +"How dare you doubt my word, sir. The telephone is in my reception room +where I heard it ring just now, for the first time. What do you want?" + +"An interview with you to-morrow morning at nine on a life and death +matter. I can merely remind you, sir, that two of your friends, +Wellington Serral and Herbert de Cleyster have met mysterious deaths +during the past week. Mr. Van Cleft died of heart failure to-night. +I will be there at nine. As you value your own life do not leave your +residence or even answer any telephone messages again until I see you." + +"Well, I'll be--" Shirley disconnected, before the verb was reached. He +tossed the coin to the tailor, and speedily returned to the waiting room +where he signaled Van Cleft to end the conversation. + +"Quick now, find out what wire called you up." The answer was "William +Grimsby, 97 Fifth Avenue." + +"You had the wrong tip that time, Mr. Shirley," said Van Cleft. "But how +could he have found out where I was, for none of the servants know about +Captain Cronin, or even my family that I was coming down here. He gave +me some good advice however. I want to pay the hush money and end it all +forever." + +Shirley had preserved the record and put it away with the others in the +grip. Now he lit a cigarette and puffed several rings of smoke before +answering. + +"Van, it must be wonderful to be twins." + +"This is no night for joking," petulantly, observed the nervous young +man. "I want the girl silenced--" + +"She won't open her mouth after I tell her some things. It may entertain +you to know, Van, that while you were getting such good advice from Mr. +Grimsby on this wire, I was talking to the real Mr. Grimsby on his own +wire: he said I was his first caller in more than an hour. So, I gave +him some good advice, which wouldn't interest you. After this don't +believe what the telephone tells." + +"Who was I speaking with?" + +"The most brilliant criminal it has ever been my pleasure to run +across," and his eyes snapped with joy, the huntsman instinct rising to +the surface at last, "I will call him the voice until I know his better +name. He is the most scientific crook of the age." + +"What do you know about criminals?" was the incredulous question. + +"I'll know a hundred times as much as I do now, when I know all about +this one, Van. You'd better have Cleary send an armed guard along with +you, and get home for a good rest. Get a man who can drive a car, and +bring back the empty auto three houses away from your residence: it will +bear looking into! I'm going up to have a revival meeting with that girl +now, for I am convinced that she is not a whit more implicated in the +conception or execution of this crime than you are. Good-night." + +Van Cleft left the house, with a pitying shake of the head. He was +not quite certain that he had done wisely, after all, in bringing his +eccentric friend into the affair. He little reckoned how much more +peculiarly Montague Shirley was to act for the remainder of the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. AN EXPERIMENT WITH THE "MOVIES" + + +The cross-examination of Polly Marion resulted in little advantage. She +had known of the sudden departure of two other songbirds, well equipped +with funds for the land of Somewhere Else. Their absence had been the +subject of some quiet jesting among the dragon flies who flitted over +the pond of pleasure. A suggestion, from some unrecalled source, that +their disappearance had been connected with the deaths of the two +aged suitors was revitalized in her memory by the words of the elderly +detective. Familiar with the strange life of this jeweled half-world +Shirley's keenness brought forth nothing to convince him that the girl +had been more culpable than in the following of her class, known to the +initiate as the "gentle art of gold digging." + +"Polly, go home now, and stay away from these parties: that's my honest +advice, if you want to be on the 'outside looking in,' when some one is +sent to prison for this. I am in favor of hushing up this affair, and +want to ease it up for you. Are you wise?" + +Polly was wise, beyond her years. Her equipoise was regained, and with a +coquettish interest in this handsome interviewer--such girls always have +an eye for future business--he returned to her theatrical lodging +house, in which at least dwelt her wardrobe and makeup box when she was +"trouping" in some spangled chorus. Of recent months she had not been +subjected to the Hurculean rigors of bearing the spear, thanks to the +gratuities of the open-handed Van Cleft, Senior. She pleaded to remain +out of the white lights, meaning it as she spoke. But Shirley wisely +felt that the butterfly would emerge from the chrysalis, shortly, to +flutter into certain gardens where he would fain cull rare blossoms! Pat +Cleary deputized a "shadow" to diarize her exits and entrances. + +"The hooks are cleaned, with fresh bait upon them," soliloquized +Shirley, as he went down the dark stoop. "Now for a little laboratory +work on the wherefore of the why!" + +Although long after midnight, he numbered among his acquaintanceship, +many whom he could find far from Slumber-land. His steps led to the +apartment of a certain theatrical manager, whom he found engaged in +a lively tournament of the chips, jousting with two leading men, one +playwright, a composer and a merchant prince. The latter, of course, was +winning. The host, contributing both chips and bottled cheer, was far +from optimistic until the arrival of the club man. + +"A live one abaft the mizzen!" exclaimed Dick Holloway, "Here's Shirley +sent by Heaven to join us. After all I hope to pay my next month's +rent." + +Noisily welcomed by the victims of mercantile prowess, he apologetically +declined to flirt with Dame Fortune, pleading a business purpose. + +"Business, Monty! By the shade of Shakspeare! I never knew you to look +at business, except to prevent it running you down like a Fourth Avenue +mail bus." + +"It is in the interest of science," said Shirley, drawing the manager +aside, "an experiment--" + +"Fudge on science. You interrupt a game at this time of night!" + +"But it means money. I am willing to pay." + +"Ah, Monty, money should never come between friends, and so I retract: +with three failures this season, because the public doesn't appreciate +art." + +"It's about moving pictures. I know that you have floated a syndicate +for big productions. Do you work night and day?" + +"An investment? Heaven bless you! Come into my bedroom and we'll arrange +things of course, we work at night. Just this minute they are producing +the 'Bartered Bride' in six reels and eighteen thrills a foot. A +magnificently equipped studio, the public yelling for more how much have +you?" + +"Not so fast, Dick. It's merely some special work tonight, what you +would call trick photography. I need a photographer, some lights, a +little space, a microscopic lens and the complete developing during the +night. And, I'll pay cash, as I have done with some suspicious poker +losses in this temple of the muses on bygone evenings. Which, I may +urge with gentle sarcasm is more than I have frequently received at your +hands." + +"Touche!" laughed Holloway. "I'll write a note to the studio +manager--he's there now, and will do what you want. You could have your +picture completed by morning with a little financial coaxing applied in +the right place. Come to the library table. Go on with the game, boys, +it will save me a little." + +The potentate of dry goods was drawing in his winnings, as Shirley +leaned over Holloway's shoulder to dictate the missive. Suddenly a +revolver shot rang out from the window, and a bullet crashed into the +wall behind Shirley's head. + +His hand, idly dropped into his overcoat pocket, intuitively closed +around his automatic revolver. A dark silhouette was outlined against +the gray luminosity cast up by the lights of Broadway, half a block from +the window. Through the opening another belching flame shot forth, to +be answered by the criminologist's weapon, barking like a miltraileuse. +They heard a stifled cry, and as Shirley ran forward, he exclaimed with +disappointment. + +"He's escaped down the fire-escape and through that skylight." + +He faced about to smile grimly at the curious scene within. The +playwright had taken refuge among the brass andirons of the big empty +fireplace. The matinee heroes were under chairs, and Holloway behind the +mahogany buffet. From the direction of the stairway came shrill cries +from the speeding merchant, softening in intensity as he neared the +street level. + +"The battle's over!" exclaimed Holloway. "I don't know whether it was my +chorus men wishing the gipsy curse on me, or the stage-carpenters going +on a strike. But look! See the swag that Jerry left behind! What shall +we do with it?" + +"Loot!" suggested the playwright, with rare discrimination, as he dusted +off the wood ashes, and approached the table with glistening eyes. +"We'll divide share and share alike. It's the only way to win from +Jerry." + +Temperament was asserting its gameness. Shirley put back into position +a shattered portrait of Sarah Bernhardt, and his eyes twinkled as the +apostles of the muses hastened to divide the chips of the departed one +into five generous piles. Holloway completed the letter, albeit with a +nervous chirography, and handed him the envelope. + +"Go now, before a submarine war zone is declared. I'm going to close up +shop before the police come visiting. Good luck, Monty, in the cause of +science." + +Although his conscience was clear about the game having created five +surprised winners by his interruption, he was disturbed over the +certainty that the voice was aware of his personal work in the case. The +difficulties were now trebled! Before any policemen appeared Shirley +had passed Broadway on his way to the motion picture studio, on the West +side of Tenth Avenue. Whatever secret observers may have been on his +tracks, nothing untoward occurred: still, his senses were quickened into +caution by the attempt on his life. + +A parley with a grumpy gateman, the presentation of his letter and he +was admitted to the presence of the manager, a man exhausted with the +strenuosity of night and day work. Shirley understood the antidote for +his sullenness. + +"Here, old man, send out for a little luncheon for the two of us. I have +some unusual experimental work, and need the assistance of a well-known +expert like yourself." The flattery, embellished by a ten-dollar bill, +opened a flood-gate of optimism. + +A camera man was summoned, and the apparatus prepared for some +"close-up" motion pictures. Under the weird green lights of the mercury +vapor lamps, a director and company of players were busily enacting +a dramatic scene, before a studio set. They gave little heed to the +newcomer: boredom is a prime requisite of poise in the motion picture +art. + +"I have here three phonograph records, which I want photographed." + +"But they don't move--you want a still camera," exclaimed the dumfounded +manager. + +"Yes, they do move as the picture is taken. I want a microscopic lens +used in the camera in such a way that we take a motion picture of the +twinings and twistings of one little thread on the wax cylinder, as it +records the sound waves around the cylinder." + +The photographer sniffed with scorn, being familiar with eccentric +uplifters of the "movies," but responded to the command of the manager +to adjust his delicate camera mechanism for the task. + +"There is a certain phrase of words on each cylinder which I want +recorded this way. Can all three be taken parallel with each other on +the same film?" + +"Sure, easiest thing to do--just a triple exposure. We take it on one +edge of the film, through a little slit just a bit wider than the space +of the thread, cut in a screen. Then we rewind that film, and slide the +slit to the middle of the lens, take your second wax record, and do the +same on the right edge of the film for the third. But what's the idea?" + +The camera man began to show interest: he was a skilled mechanician and +he caught the drift of a sensible purpose, at last. + +Shirley did not answer. He placed the first record in the phonograph, +running it until the feminine voice could be distinguished asking: "Can +you hear me now?" He marked the beginning and end of this phrase with +his pocket knife. So with the merry masculine and the aged, disagreeable +voice, he located the same order of words: "Can you hear me now?" +The operation seems easy, in the telling, or again perhaps it appears +intensely involved and hardly worth the trouble. A motto of Shirley's +was: "Nothing is too much trouble if it's worth while." So, with this. +To the cynical camera man its general nature was expressed in his +whispered phrase to the manager: + +"You better not leave them property butcher knives on that there table, +Mr. Harrison. This gink is nuts: he thinks's he's Mike Angelo or some +other sculpture. He'll start sculpin' the crowd in a minute!" + +"You take the picture and keep your opinions to yourself," snapped +Shirley whose hearing was highly trained. + +The man lapsed into silence. For two hours they fumed and perspired and +swore, under the intense heat of the low-hung mercury lamps, until at +last a test proved they had the right combination. Shirley greased +the skill of the camera man with a well-directed gratuity, and ordered +speedy development of the film. Before this was done, however, he took +six other records of voices from the folk in the studio, using the same +words: "Can you hear me now?" + +The three strips of triple exposures were taken to the dark room and +developed by the camera man. They were dried on the revolving electric +drums, near a battery of fans. Shirley studied every step of the work, +with this and that question--this had been his method of acquiring a +curiously catholic knowledge of scientific methods since leaving the +university, where sporting proclivities had prompted him to slide +through courses with as little toil as possible. + +A print upon "positive" film was made from each: every strip was +duplicated twenty-five times, at Shirley's suggestion. Then after two +hours of effort the material was ready to be run through the projecting +machine, for viewing upon the screen. + +The manager led Shirley to the small exhibition theatre in which every +film was studied, changed and cut from twenty to fifty times before +being released for the theatres. The camera man went into the little +fire-proof booth, to operate the machine. + +"Which one first, chief?" + +"Take one by chance," said Shirley, "and I will guess its number. Start +away." + +There was a flare of light upon the screen, as the operator fussed with +the lamp for better lumination. He slowly began to turn the crank, and +the criminologist watched the screen with no little excitement. The +picture thrown up resembled nothing so much as three endless snakes +twisting in the same general rhythm from top to bottom of the frame. The +twenty-five duplicates were all joined to the original, so that there +was ample opportunity to compare the movements. + +"Well, gov'nor, which film was that?" asked the operator. + +"Not A--it was B or C!" + +"Correct. How'd you guess it? Which is this one?" + +As he adjusted another roll of film in the projector, Shirley turned to +the manager sitting at his side. "Mr. Harrison, were those snakes all +exactly alike?" + +"No. They all wriggled in the same direction, at the same time. But +little rough angles in some movements and queer curves in others made +each individually different." + +"Just what I thought. There goes another.--That is not film A, either!" + +"Righto!" confirmed the camera man. As the detailed divergence between +the lines became more evident in the repetitions, Shirley slapped his +knee. + +"Now for the finish. Try reel A." + +This time the three snakey lines moved along in almost identical +synchronism. The only difference was that the first was thin, the second +heavier, the third the darkest and most ragged of all. The relationship +was unmistakable! + +"I got you gov'nor," cried the operator. "Some dope, all right, all +right." + +"Why, what is all this?" asked the manager, nonplussed. "The last three +are alike, but what good does it do?" + +"It is known that the human voice in its inflections is like +handwriting--with a distinct personality. Certain words, when pronounced +naturally, without the alterations of dialect, are always in the same +rhythm. The records taken in the studio of those five words, 'Can you +hear me now?' are in the same general rhythm, but only the last three +snakes show exact similarity, to each little quaver and turn. There was +only the difference in shading: one was the voice of a women. The second +of a man of perhaps forty, the third of an old man--all three taken at +different times, and I thought from different people. But they all came +from one throat, and my work is completed along this line--Will you +please lock up the films, the phonograph, and my records in your film +vault, until I send for them; through Mr. Holloway?" + +The criminologist arose and walked into the deserted studio, from whence +the company had long since departed for belated slumbers. He picked up +three bricks which lay in a corner of the big studio, and placed them +gently into his grip. The manager and the camera man observed this with +blank amazement, as he locked it and put the key into his pocket. Then +he handed each of them a large-sized bill. + +"I'm very grateful, gentlemen, for your assistance. Pleasant dreams." + +Shirley abstractedly walked out of the studio, one hand comfortably in +his overcoat pocket, swinging the grip in the other. + +"Say, Lou," confided the manager, "he's the craziest guy I've ever seen +in the movies. And that's going some, after ten years of it." + +Lou treated himself to a generous bite of plug tobacco, and spat +philosophically, before replying. + +"Sure, he's crazy. Crazy, like the grandfather of all foxes!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. ENTER A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN + + +A reddening zone in the East silhouetted the serrated line of the +distant elevated structure, as Shirley walked along the gray street, his +thoughts busy with the possibilities of applying his new certainty. + +He had reached Sixth Avenue, and was just passing one of the elevated +pillars when a black touring car crept up behind him. The clanging bell +and the grinding motors of an early surface car drowned the sound of +the automobile in his rear. Suddenly the big machine sprang forward at +highest speed. A man leaned from the driver's seat, and snatched the +grip from his hand. + +The motorman, cursing, threw on the emergency brake, in time to barely +graze the machine with his fender as it shot across the street before +him. + +Shirley's view was cut off, until he had run around the street-car--then +he beheld the big automobile skidding in a half-circle, as it turned +down Fifth Avenue. It was too far away to distinguish the number of the +singing license tag. + +"Much good may the bricks do them! Perhaps they will help to build the +annex necessary up the river, when these gentry go there for a long +visit." + +Shirley laughed at the joke on his pursuers, and turned into a little +all-night grill for a comforting mutton chop of gargantuan proportions, +with an equally huge baked potato. He was a healthy brute, after all +his morbid line of activities! Later, at the Club, he submitted to the +amenities of the barber, whose fine Italian hand smoothed away, in a +skilful massage, the haggard lines of his long vigil. As he left the +club house for William Grimsby's residence he looked as fresh and +bouyant as though he had enjoyed the conventional eight hours' sleep. + +"You are this Montague Shirley?" was the querulous greeting from the +old gentleman, when he was admitted to the drawing-room. "You kept me in +anguish the entire night, with your silly words. The telephone bell +rang at intervals of half an hour until dawn: I may have missed some +important business deal by not replying What do you mean? Is this some +blackmail game?" + +"No, sir. It has to deal with blackmailing, however--but not for my +profit." + +"Explain quickly. I am a busy man. My motor is waiting now to take me to +my office." + +"Look here, Mr. Grimsby, at this memorandum book," said Shirley, holding +forward the list which he had copied from the joy-party article in the +theatrical paper. "With some friends of yours, you held merry carnival +to Venus and Bacchus at an all-night lobster palace not long ago. Have I +the right names?" + +"This is rank impertinence. How dare you? Get out of my house." + +"Not so fast, my dear sir, until you understand my drift. Throughout +Club circles you and Mr. Van Cleft, with these other cronies are +sarcastically referred to as the Lobster Club. Did you know that?" + +Grimsby's face was purple with angry mortification, but Shirley would +not be gainsaid. "I am acting in this matter as a friend of Howard Van +Cleft," he continued. "Your three friends have met their deaths at the +hand of a cunning conspirator. Last night, white I talked with you on +the telephone, young Van Cleft was receiving advice over another wire +from a person who pretended to be William Grimsby--advising him to hush +the matter up and drop the investigation. But--Captain Cronin the +famous detective--has received a tip that the number of victims would be +increased very soon--frankly, now: do you want to be the fourth?" + +Grimsby's face changed to ashen gray, as he timidly clutched Shirley's +sleeve. + +"Then cooperate with me. You understand now the nature of this villain's +work: to rob and assassinate his victim in the company of a girl, so +that this would endeavor to hush the scandal, without reporting it to +the police. His progress is unchecked, and afterwards he would have +untold opportunity for continuing a demand for hush money on the +surviving relatives. May I count on you to help?" + +"You may count on me to leave the city within the next two hours." + +"Good! But I want to have you disappear so quietly that this cunning +unknown will not know of it. He is watching your house now, without a +doubt." + +Grimsby strode to the window, with his characteristic limp, and drew the +heavy curtains aside, to peer out nervously. + +"No one is in sight." + +"The man is as unseen in his work as a germ. But he is not unheard: he +uses the telephone to locate his victims, that is why I advised you to +let your instrument ring unanswered." + +"I'll do what I can, if I can keep out of more danger. An old man craves +life more than a young one. I fought through the Civil War and brought +a medal from Congress and this wounded knee out of it, Mr. Shirley. I +didn't fear anything then, but times have changed!" + +"Here is my plan, then," continued Shirley, his lips twitching with +sub-strata amusement, "I want to impersonate you, when you leave, so +that this man tries to send me after the other three. Don't interrupt, +let me finish--You will say that it is impossible to deceive any one at +close range. Surely, it does sound melodramatic, like a lurid tale of +a paper back novel. But I have studied the photographs of your friends. +You and I bear the closest resemblance of any in the group. Your weight +is about the same as mine--your shoulders are a trifle stooped and +you walk with a curious drag of your left foot. Your hair is white +but thick: the contour of our faces is quite similar, and so with dry +cosmetics, some physical mimicry, and the use of a pair of horn-rimmed +glasses like yours I can make a comparatively good double. The only +exposure to the sharp eyes of your enemies will be, first, when I +substitute myself for you and take your automobile back home; second, +when I go down to the theatrical district, to visit a well-known tearoom +where I learn you are a frequent guest. There the wall tables are +shrouded by decorations, and I shall keep in the shadow and talk as +little as possible. Behind those dark glasses, and entering the place +with your peculiarly spotted fur coat, I will resemble you more than you +believe. If to add to the illusion, I show hospitable prodigality with +drinks for the others, it is probable that their observation will be +less analytical. Then, third in the line of activities, I will go to the +theatre, sit in a darkened box, and let them take me where they will in +whatever automobile turns up. Thus you see my campaign." + +"How much do I have to pay you?" + +"I might have expected that," was the laughing retort. "You are noted +for the fortunes you waste on stupid show girls, while times are hard +with you in your offices where young and old men struggle along to +support honest families. Have no fear, Mr. Grimsby, my income is enough +for my simple wants. I am entering this hunt for big game, just as I +have gone to India and East Africa, for jungle trophies. It will not +cost you a nickel." + +"I had better contribute a little," began Grimsby, embarrassed, as he +drew out a check-book. But Shirley negatived with emphasis. + +"How about your servants? Can you trust them with the secret?" + +"They have been with me for twenty-five years or more. My wife is in +California, and the rest of the servants, except two maids and a butler, +up at my country home on the Hudson." + +"Fine: then, in two hours from now, meet me at the Hotel Astor, where I +have rooms, in the name of Madden. Bring down an extra suit of clothes, +and an extra overcoat, for I want to wear your fur one, which I see +there on the davenport. On the downward trip instruct your chauffeur +to drive your car up to your country place, as soon as he has made the +return trip from the hotel. You will be there before he gets up, on the +country roads and he will be none the wiser. Goodbye, Mr. Grimsby." + +At the club Shirley made some necessary disposition of his private +matters, for he knew this case would run longer than a day. From +his rooms he sent a note by messenger to his theatrical friend, Dick +Holloway, which read simply. + +"Dear Holloway:--The experiment with the movies won the blue ribbon. I +have a new plan on foot. You can help me in this, as well. I want you to +engage for me a beautiful, clever and daring actress, afraid of nothing +under the sun or moon, and absolutely unknown on Broadway. No amateurs +or stage-struck heiresses or manicurists: you are the one impresario who +can fill my bill. I will call at your office in fifteen minutes, so have +the compact sealed by then. Who finally won the loot, last night? + + Your friend, Montague Shirley." + +The manager was forced to go through the note twice, to make sure that +his senses were not leaving him. Then he turned in the chair, toward +the unusual young woman who sat in his private office, observing with +mingled amusement and curiosity the fleeting expressions upon his face. + +"In view of your mission in America, this may interest you," was his +amused comment, as he handed her the missive. "It is from the most +curious man in New York." + +He studied the downcast lashes, as she read the letter. Hers was a +face which had stirred a continent, yet he had never met her until this +memorable day. She might have been twenty-three years old--and again, +might have been three years younger or older. Rippling red-gold waves +of hair separated in the center of her smooth brow to caress with a soft +wave on either side the blooming cheeks, whose Nature-grown roses were +unusual in this world-weary vicinity of Broadway. A sweet mouth with a +sensuous smile at one corner, and a barely perceptible droop of pathos +at the other, lent an indescribable piquance to her dimpled smile. The +blue orbs which raised to his own with a Sphinxian laugh in their +azure depths thrilled him--Holloway, the blase, the hardened theatrical +manager, flattered and cajoled by hundreds of beautiful women on the +quest of stage success! + +Adroitly veiled beneath the silken folds of the clinging gown, redolent +with the bizarre artistry of a Parisian atelier, was the shapely +suggestion of exquisite physical perfection which did not escape the +connoisseur glance of Holloway. + +"He is a literary man: I know that from the small, yet fluent writing, +and the cross marks for periods show that he has written for newspapers +and corrected his own proofs--He is unusually definite in what he +desires and accustomed to having his imperious way about most things. In +this case, he is easily pleased--merely perfection is his desire." + +"Shirley is generally prompt, and is apt to breeze in here any second +now, with his two hundred pounds and six feet of brawn and ginger. I +wonder--" + +"Why do you suppose such a paragon is desired by your friend? Who is he? +What is he like, not an ordinary actor--" and the wondrous eyes darkened +with a curious thought. + +"My dear lady, no one has discovered the mental secrets of Montague +Shirley. He apparently wastes his life as do other popular society men +with much money and more time on their hands. Yet, somehow, I always +feel in his presence as one does when standing on the bow of an ocean +liner, with the salt breeze whizzing into your heart. He is a force of +nature, yet he explains nothing: a thorough man of the world; droll, +sarcastic, generous and I believe for democracy he is unequaled by any +Tammany politician: he knows more policemen, dopes, conductors, beggars, +chauffeurs, gangsters, bartenders, jobless actors, painters, preachers, +anarchists, and all the rest of New York's flotsam and jetsam than any +one in the world. He is always the polished gentleman, and yet they take +him man for man." + +"What does this unusual person do for a living?" + +"Nothing but living!" + +Her interest was naturally undiminshed by this perfervid tribute, and +she clapped her dainty hands together with sudden mirth. + +"You know why I came here, and why to you, Mr. Holloway. You know who I +am, and although I answer none of those exorbitant terms except that I +am not known by sight along your big street Broadway, why not recommend +me for the position?" + +"But you, of all people!" Holloway's face was a study in amazement. "You +can't tell what wild project he has in view. Shirley is a wild Indian, +in many things you know--just when you least expect it. I have known him +a dozen years." + +He paused to weigh the matter, and his sense of humor conquered. He +roared with mirth, which was joined in more sedately by the unknown +girl. "That settles it. You couldn't start on your campaign in a better +way. You shall be the Lady of Mystery in this story! I will not breathe +a hint of your identity to Shirley, and no one else knows, of course. +What a ripping good joke: I'm glad you came here the first hour after +your landing in New York." + +"What shall I call myself? I have it--a romantic name, which will be +worth laughing over later--let me see--Helene Marigold. Is that flowery +enough?" + +"Shirley will be sure you are an actress when he hears that. Mum is +the word, may you never have stage fright and never miss a cue--Here he +comes now!" + +The criminologist rushed into the office impetuously, dropping his bag +on the floor, and doffing his hat as he beheld the pretty companion of +Holloway. + +"On time to the minute, as usual, Shirley. Your note came, and I +followed your instructions. Let me present to you your new star, Miss +Helene Marigold, who just disembarked on the steamer from England this +morning. You have secured a young lady who is making all Europe sit up +and rub its eyes. I believe I have at last found a match for you, Prince +of the Unexpected!" + +Shirley held forth his fervent hand, and was surprised at the almost +masculine sincerity with which the delicately gloved fingers returned +the pressure. He looked into the blue eyes with a challenging scrutiny, +and received as frank an answer! + +Dick Holloway indulged in an unobserved smile, as he turned to look out +of the window, lost for the nonce in mirthful speculation. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK + + +"Dick, you can help me further, with your dramatic knowledge. I feel in +duty bound to tell Miss Marigold that she is risking her life, if she +takes up this task." + +Instead of hesitancy, which Shirley half expected, the girl's face +flushed with quickened interest, and her eyes sparkled with enjoyment as +he unfolded the situation. At the mention of Grimsby, Holloway grunted +with disgust--it may have been a variety of professional jealousy. Who +knows? However, the problem fascinated the mysterious young woman, who +blushed, in spite of herself, when Shirley put his blunt question to +her. + +"And you are willing to assume for a time the character of one of these +stage moths, whom rich men of this type pursue and woo, wine, dine and +boast about? Will it interfere with your own work? Any salary arranged +by Mr. Holloway is agreeable, for this unusual task." + +"The game, not the money, is the attraction. I will be ready when you +pronounce my cue." + +"Splendid. Dick, will you assist Miss Marigold in selecting an +attractive apartment in a theatrical hotel this afternoon. I will call +for her at four-thirty, to take her to tea. She may not know me, at +first glance: that depends upon the help you give me at the Astor. +I will expect you there in an hour. I haven't acted since I left the +college shows: with a hundred chances to one against my success, even I +am not bored." + +He hurried from the office, and Holloway noted the glow in the +girl's glance which followed his stalwart figure. Holloway was a +good tactician: there were reasons why he enjoyed this new role of +match-maker de luxe, yet he played his hand far more subtly than at +poker. Which was well! + +Ensconced in the Astor, Shirley was soon busy before the cheval glass, +from which were suspended three photographs of William Grimsby, obtained +from a photographic news syndicate. + +Coat and waistcoat had been removed, as he discriminatingly applied the +dry cosmetics with skill which suggested that he had disguised himself +for daylight purposes far more than he would admit. By the time he had +powdered his thick locks with the white pulverized chalk, and donned +a pair of horn-rim glasses of amber tint, his whole personality had +changed. The similarity was startling to the prototype who was admitted +to the room a few minutes later. + +"Why, I beg pardon--I have come to the wrong suite," were Grimsby's +apologetic words, as he essayed to retreat. + +"You are the first victim of the mirage. Do you like the caricature?" + +"Astounding, my friend!" gasped Grimsby, sinking into the chair. Shirley +drew him to the mirror, to make a closer study of the lines of senility +and late hours. A few delicate touches of purple and blue, some +retouching of the nostrils, and he drew on the suit provided by his +elder. Dick Holloway was announced, and Shirley ordered some wine and a +dinner for one! At Grimsby's surprise, Shirley, smiled indulgently. + +"I am selfish--I will have a little supper party by myself, and spare +you in nothing. I want you to eat, to drink, to pour wine, to take out +your wallet, to walk, to sit down, to laugh, to scold! You have a task, +sir: I will imitate you move by move! This is a rare experiment." + +"Great Scott! Which is you?" cried Holloway who entered with the +burdened waiter. + +"Neither. We're both me!" chuckled the criminologist. "But let me +introduce you to my twin--" + +The two men exchanged formalities with an undercurrent of dislike. +Shirley lost no time. He compelled the old man to run through his paces, +as Holloway criticized each study in miming. Just as the capitalist +would swing his arms, limp with his left leg, shift his head ever so +little, from side to side in his walk, so Shirley copied him. A +word here, an exhortation there, and Shirley improved steadily under +Holloway's analytical direction. At last the lesson was ended, with the +manager's pronounciamento of "graduation cum lauda." + +"I'll have to star you, Monty," he declared, as Shirley put on the fur +greatcoat of the old man, grasping the gold headed cane, and drooping +his shoulders in a perfect imitation of the other's attitude. + +"Perhaps it will be necessary. The chorus men have invaded society with +their fox-trots and maxixe steps. We club men will have to countercharge +the enemy, for self-preservation, to play heavy villains upon the stage. +Eh?" + +He turned toward Grimsby, who was well wearied with the trying ordeal, +and evidencing a growing nervousness about his own escape. + +"You know how to leave, according to my plan? Wrap the muffler well +around the lower part of your face, button this second overcoat closely +about your neck, and enter the private carriage which I ordered for 'Mr. +Lee,' waiting now at the Forty-fifth Street Side. Then drive leisurely +to the West Forty-second Street Ferry, where you can catch the late +afternoon train for your country place." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Shirley. I have been an old curmudgeon with you, I fear. +You have taught this old dog new tricks in several ways, young man. +Neither I nor my friends will forget your bravery. They are all out of +the city by now, according to word from my private secretary. Your field +is clear. Good luck, sir!" + +Shirley and Holloway left the rooms first. Neither addressed the other +on the lift, as it descended to the street level. Holloway casually +followed Monty as he stiffly walked to the big red limousine waiting at +the Forty-fourth Street entrance of the hostelry. The chauffeur sprang +out, opening the door with a respectful salute. The disguise was +successful! + +"Home!" grunted Shirley, sinking back into the car, with collar high +about his neck and the soft hat half concealing his eyes. He scrutinized +the faces of the passers-by, photographing in that receptive memory of +his the ugly features of two men, who peered into the limousine from +under the visors of their black caps. The car sped up town through the +bewildering maze of street traffic. The chauffeur helped him up the +steps of the brownstone mansion, while Grimsby's old butler swung open +the glass door, with a helping hand under the feeble arm. + +Shirley puffed and grunted impatiently until he heard the door close +behind him. Then straightening up, he turned upon the startled butler. + +"Well, my man. Go out and tell the chauffeur to leave for the country at +once, as Mr. Grimsby already ordered him to do." + +"My Gawd, sir!" exclaimed the servant, paling perceptibly. "What's come +over you, sir?--Oh, I beg pardon, sir, you're the other gentleman. You +certainly fooled me, sir--You're bloody brave, sir, to do all this for +the master. Are we in any danger?" + +"Not a bit--whatever happens will be outside the house. Just keep up the +secret, as you value your master's life. Go, and tell the man. I must +kill time here in the library, reading until four o'clock." + +Shirley threw aside the greatcoat, and walked to the window of the small +reception room which faced the street, to draw aside the curtains and +watch the chauffeur, as he entered the machine to speed away. A black +automobile slowly passed the house, bearing two men on the driver's +seat. From under the visors of their black caps they scrutinized the +building, to hastily look away as they observed the face at the window. + +Shirley made a note of the number of the machine. He could have sworn +that this was the same car which had passed him that morning at dawn +when the grip was snatched from his hand. + +He returned to the library, where he lost himself in the rare old +volumes of Grimsby's life collection: the criminologist was a booklover +and the hours drifted by as in a happy playtime, until the butler came +to tell him the time. + +"Great Scott! I must hurry. Call a taxi, for me. I will go to Holloway's +office to learn where Miss Marigold has been ensconced." + +He sat in the machine before the office building, as he sent the +chauffeur up to Dick's office, to inquire for a message to "Mr. +Grimsby." A note was brought down, informing him that the girl awaited +him in the Hotel California, a few blocks above. The machine started off +once more, and Shirley laughed at the droll situation in which he found +himself. + +"I wonder who Helene Marigold can be? I wonder what Holloway meant +precisely when he predicted that I would meet my match. I am not seeking +one kind--and blue eyes, surrounded by red-gold hair and peaches and +cream will not shake my determination." + +But the best laid determinations of bachelor hearts gang aft agley! + +Down at the Hotel California, famous for its rare collection of +attractive feminine guests and the manifold breach-of-promise suits +which had emanated from the palm bedecked entrance, Helene Marigold was +indulging herself in a delighted, albeit highly amused, inspection +of sundry large boxes which had been arriving from shops in the +neighborhood. + +"As nearly as I can imagine this must look like the bower of a Broadway +Phryne. All that is missing is a family portrait in crayon of the father +who was a coal miner, the presence of a buxom financial genius for the +stage mother, and a Chinese chow-dog on a cerise velvet cushion. But who +ever attains perfection here below?" + +She lifted some filmy gowns which had arrived in the latest parcel +to her chin, peering over the sheerness of the lacy cascade, into the +mirror of the dressing-table. + +"If good old Jack could see me now? Poor, old, stupid, dear, silly +Jack! I must write to him at once, for he is largely responsible for my +present unusual surroundings. How pleased this would not make him, the +old dear." + +With the thought, she sat down before the escritoire, dipping a pearl +and gold pen, as she paused for the words with which to begin the note. +Another knock came at the door. It could not be another gown. She had +told Holloway to keep all her personal baggage at the steamer dock +until she had finished her lark! At the portal a diminutive messenger +delivered a large white box, ornately bound in lavender ribbons. When +she unwrapped it, hidden in the folds of many reams of delicate tissue, +she found a gorgeous bunch of orchids. + +"How beautiful! I wonder who could have--" then she found a white card, +and read it aloud, with a mirthful peal of laughter. + +"To Lollypop's little Bonbon Tootems--from her foolish old Da-Da!" + +Helene turned toward the window, to gaze out over the mysterious, +foreign motley array of roofs and obtruding skyscrapers of this curious +district. + +"This mysterious man plays his part with a sense of humor. If only he +will be different and not mean the flowers, ever!" + +And she forgot to finish the note which was to have gone to faraway, +stupid, dear old Jack. + +Ten minutes later an aged gentleman entered the gorgeous foyer of the +Hotel California, impatiently presenting his card to the bell-boy, +for announcement to Miss Marigold. The lad, true to tradition, quietly +confided the name to the interested clerk, before doing so. As the +visitor was shown to the elevator, the clerk turned to his assistant +with a nudge. + +"There's the easiest spender of the Lobster Club. That means good trade +here, with this new peach in the crate. These old ginks are hard as +Bessemer armor-plate in business, but oh, how soft the tumble for a new +shade of peroxide." + +"Mr. Grimsby" was soon sitting on the velour divan, at a comfortable +distance from possible eavesdroppers at the door. She was putting the +finishing touches to her preparation for the butterfly role. Shirley +felt an unexpected thrill at this little intimacy of their relations: +the rooms were permeated with the most delicate suggestion of a curious +perfume, which was strange to him. Somehow it fitted her personality +so effectually: for despite the physical appeal of her beauty, +now accentuated by the risque costume which she had donned, at the +professional suggestion of Dick Holloway, there was a pervasive +spirituality in the girl's face, her hands, and the tones of her soft +voice. + +She turned to smile at him, her dimples playing hide and seek with the +white pearls beneath the unduly scarlet lip. + +"Isn't this a ripping good situation for a novel?" she began. + +"Yes, too good at present, Miss Marigold. There are too many, important +people to be affected for it ever to be given to the public, for the +identities would all be exposed ruthlessly. Besides, no one would +believe it: it seems too improbable, being real life. It will be more +improbable before we finish the adventure, I suspect. Can I trust your +discretion to keep it secret? You know, I have a deal of skepticism +about the best of women." + +Helene reddened under that keen glance, and he saw that he had offended +her. + +"I beg your pardon: I know that we shall work it out together, with +absolute mutual trust." + +Such an earnest vibrance was in his voice that somehow she was reminded +of another voice: her mind went back to the neglected letter to Jack. +What could have caused her to be so remiss? She would not let herself +dwell on the subject--instead, with a surprising deftness, she caught up +Shirley's own cue, for a staggering question of her own. + +"Are you sure that you have absolutely confided in me? Did you start at +the beginning, when you told the story to-day." + +"What do you mean?" and Shirley caught the glance sharply. + +"Your unusual rapidity of action, Mr. Shirley, for a mere interested +friend! It is queer how wonderfully your mind has connected this work, +and the various accidental happenings, to evolve this clever ruse in +which I am to assist. It doesn't seem so amateurish as you would make +it. You seem mysterious to me." + +"Do you think I am the voice? Here is a chance for real detective work, +if you can double the game, and capture me?" was the laughing retort. "I +don't believe you trust me." + +The girl stood up before him, and after one deep look, her eyes fell +before his. Those exquisite lashes sent a tiny flutter through the +case-hardened heart of the club man, despite his desperate determination +to be a Stoic. + +"I do trust you," the voice was impetuous, almost petulant. "You are a +real man: I merely give you credit for being better than the class of +rich young men of whom you pretend to be an absolute type. But there, +I waste words and time. Is my costume for this little opera boufe +satisfactory to you? Do you like my warpaint and battle armor?" + +She stood before him, a glorious bird of paradise. The wanton display +of a maddening curve of slender ankle, through the slash of the clinging +gown imparted just the needed allurement to stamp her as a Vestal of +the temple of Madness. The cunning simplicity of the draping over her +shoulders--luminous with the iridiscent gleam of ivory skin beneath, +accentuated by the voluptuous beauty of her youthful bosom--the fleeting +change of colors and contours as she slowly turned about in this +maddening soul-trap of silk and laces--all these were not lost on the +senses of Shirley. As the depths of those blue eyes opened before his +gaze, a mad, a ridiculous aching to crush her in his arms, surprised +the professional consulting criminologist! For this swift instant, all +memory of the Van Cleft case, of every other problem, was driven from +his mind, as a blinding blast of seething desire surged about him. + +Then the old resolution, the conquering will of the man of one purpose, +beat back the flames of this threatening conflagration. His eyes +narrowed, his hands dropped to his side, and he squinted at her with the +frigid dissective gaze of an artist studying the curves of a model. + +"You must rouge your cheeks more, blue your eyelids and redden your lips +even yet. Then be generous with the powder--and that wonderful perfume." + +An inscrutable smile played about the sensitive lips, as Helene turned +to her dressing-table. Shirley stood with his face to the window; he did +not observe it, nor would he have understood its menace to his own peace +of mind. Helene, however, did. She was a woman. + +"May I smoke a cigarette? I am afraid I am almost a fiend, for I seem to +crave the foolish comfort that I imagine they give, in times of nervous +drain." + +"No, Lollypop's little Bonton Tootems enjoys their fragrance. Don't +ever ask me again. I have completed the mural decoration with futurist +extravagance in the color scheme. My cloak, sir!" + +He tossed it about her, and took up his hat and gold-headed stick. With +a final glance at his own careful make-up, he started after her for the +street. + +"Some chikabiddy!" was the remark of the clerk to the head bell-boy. The +words reached the ears of Shirley and Helene. Her hand trembled on his +arm as they entered a waiting taxicab. She looked pathetically at him, +as she asked. + +"Don't you think I am interested, sincere and loyal, to brave such +remarks as these, and the other worse things they will say before long? +I wouldn't dare do this, if I were not sure that no one in America but +you and Mr. Holloway knows me. To wear this horrid stuff on my face--to +dress in these vulgar clothes--to impersonate such a girl! You know I'm +not nearly as bad as I'm painted!" + +Shirley clasped her white-gloved hand and nodded. He was studying the +pedestrians for a familiar twain of faces. He was not disappointed, as +the car swung into Broadway. + +"Look--those two men have been following me wherever I have gone. They +are a pair of old-fashioned pirates. Don't forget their faces!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. IN THE GARDEN OF TEMPTATION + + +Their destination, one of the score of tango tea-rooms which had sprung +to mushroom popularity within the year, was soon reached. Leaning +heavily upon his stick, limping like his aged model, and spluttering +impatiently, Shirley was assisted by the uniformed door man into the +lobby. Helene followed meekly. Four hat boys from the check-room made +the conventional scramble for his greatcoat, hat and stick, nearly +upsetting him in their eagerness. Then Shirley led the way into the half +light of the tropical, indoor garden, picking a way through the tables +to a distant wall seat, embowered with electric grapes and artificial +vines. + +"Sit down, my darling child," said the pseudo Grimsby, as he dropped +into a seat behind the table, which was protected from the lights, and +furthest away from any possible visitors. "We are early, avoiding the +crush. Soon the crowd will be here. We must have some champagne at once, +to assist me in my defensive tactics. You will have to do most of the +talking. Remember, we are going to the Winter Garden musical review when +we leave here: you may tell this to whom you will." + +Helene looked about curiously, as the big tea-room began to fill with +its usual late afternoon crowd of patrons,--young, old and indeterminate +in age. Women of maturely years, young misses from "finishing" schools, +demimondaine, social "bounders" deluded by the glitter of their own +jewelry and the thrill of their wasted money that they were climbing +into New York society--these and other curious types rubbed elbows in +this melting pot of folly. The tinkle of glasses, the increasing buzz +of conversation, the empty laughter of too many emptied cocktail glasses +mingled with the droning music of an Hawaiian string quartette in the +far corner. + +Suddenly, with banging tampani and the crash of cymbals, rattle of +tambourines and beating of tomtoms, the barbaric Ethiopians of the +dancing orchestra began their syncopated outrages against every known +law of harmony--swinging weirdly into the bewitching, tickling, tingling +rhythm of a maxixe. + +"How strange!" murmured Helene, as the waiter brought them some +champagne and indigestible pastries--the true ingredients of 'dansant +the'. + +"Yes, on with the dance-let joy be unrefined! The fall of the Roman +Empire was the bounce of a rubber nursery ball, compared with this New +York avalanche of luxurious satiation! Now, my child, old Da-da, is +going to become too intoxicated to talk three words to any of these +gallants and their lassies. Grimsby did not write a monologue for me, +so I must pantomime: you will have to carry the speaking part of our +playlet. Flatter them--but don't leave my side to dance!" + +The first bottle of wine had been carried away by the waiter, (half +emptied it is true,) as he filled a second order. Shirley shielded his +face beneath a drooping spray of artificial blooms from the top of +their wallbower. Several young men were approaching them, and the +criminologist noted with relief that they evidenced their afternoon +libations even so early. Eyes dulled with over-stimulus were the less +analytical. Chance was favoring him. The newcomers were garbed in that +debonair and "cultured" modishness so dear to the hearts of magazine +illustrators. Faces, weak with sunken cheek lines, strong in creases +of selfishness, darkened by the brush strokes of nocturnal excesses and +seared, all of them with the brand mark of inbred rascality, identified +them to Shirley as members of that shrewd class of sycophants who feast +on the follies of the more amateurish moths of the Broadway Candles. + +"Hello, old pop Grimsby!" + +"You're in the dark of the moon, Grimmie! I couldn't make you out but +for those horn rimmed head lights." + +"Welcome to the joy-parlor, old scout." + +The greetings of the juvenile buzzards varied only in phraseology: their +portent was identical: "Open wine." + +"Poor Mr Grimsby is so ill this afternoon, but sit down and have +something with us," volunteered Helene tremulously. + +The bees gathered about the table to feast on the vinous honey, while +Shirley, mumbling a few words, maintained his partial obscurity, with +one hand to his forehead. + +"Fine boysh, m'deah. Boysh, meet little Bonbon--my protashsh!" + +Little Bonbon was a pronounced attraction. Her vivacious charm drew the +eyes away from Shirley, who studied the expressions of the weasel faces +about him. The girl's heart sickened under the brutal frankness of a +dozen calculating eyes, yet she valiantly maintained her part, +while Shirley marveled at her clever simulation of silly, giggly, +semi-intoxication. One youth deserted them to disappear through +the distant dining room entrance. The comments about the table were +interesting to the keen-eared masquerader. + +"Old Grimsby's picked a live one, this time!"--"What show is she +with?"--"Won't Pinkie be sore?" The criminologist was not left to wonder +as to the identity of "Pinkie," for an older man, walking behind a +red-headed girl in a luridly modern gown, approached the table with the +absent guest. The men were talking earnestly, the girl staring angrily +at Shirley's, beautiful companion. + +"Hey, here come's Reggie! Sit down, Reg. Pop has passed away, but his +credit is still strong." + +"There's Pinkie--come, my dear, and join the Ladies' Aid Society and +have a lemonade," jested another youth, making a place for the girl in +the aisle. + +Pinkie's dark-haired companion sank somewhat unsteadily into a chair +next the girl. He frowned and rubbed his forehead, as though to clear +his mind for needed concentration. He shook Shirley's arm, and spoke +sharply. + +"Look up; Grimmie. I never saw you feel your wine so early in the +afternoon. It was a lucky day for me on Wall Street, so I celebrated +myself. You are here earlier than usual. Everybody have some champagne +with me." + +As he beckoned to the waiter, the red-haired girl bestowed a murderous +look upon Helene, who was sniffing some flowers which she had drawn from +the vase on the table. + +"Who's that Jane?" she demanded, her voice-shaking with jealousy. +"Grimmie, you act as if you were doped. Introduce us to your swell +friend. Wake him, Reg Warren." + +Helene's jeweled white hand protected the safety-first dozing of her +companion, as, through the interstices of his fingers, he studied the +inscrutable difference between the face of Warren and the other youths +about them. + +"Let Pop dream of a new way to make a million!" laughed one young man. +"His money grows while he sleeps." + +"Yes, let him dream on," laughed Helene, with a shrill giggle. "When he +makes that extra million he can star me on Broadway, in my own show. He, +he!" + +"You'll have to spend half of it at John the Barber's getting your voice +marceled and your face manicured," snarled Pinkie. "Come, Reg, and dance +with me: these bounders bore me." + +"Run along, Pinkie, and fox-trot your grouch away with Shine Taylor. +Here comes the wine I ordered--What's your name, girlie? Where did you +meet Grimsby?" + +"Oh, we're old friends," and Helene maliciously spilled a bottle over +the interrogator's waistcoat, as she reached forward to shake his hand. +"My name's Bonbon, you wouldn't believe me if I told you my real name, +anyway. Who are you?" + +"I'm not Neptune," he retorted, as he mopped the bubbles with a napkin. +"You've started in badly." Shirley mentally disagreed. His stupor still +obsessed him, but he noted with interest that Warren paid the check +for his bottle with a new one-hundred dollar bill. Warren could elicit +nothing from Helene but silly laughter, and so he arose impatiently, +as Shine Taylor returned to whisper something in his ear. "I must be +getting back to my apartment. Bring Grimsby up to it to-night: a little +bromo will bring him back to the land of the living. I'll have a jolly +crowd there--top floor of the Somerset, on Fifty-sixth Street, you know, +near Sixth Avenue. Come up after the show." + +"We're going to the Winter Garden," suggested Helene, at a nudge from +Shirley, and Warren nodded. + +"I'll try to see you later, anyway. Goodbye!" + +Losing interest in the proceedings, as the time for reckoning the bill +approached, the other gallants followed these two. Alone, again, Shirley +ordered some black coffee, and smiled at his assistant. + +"He told the truth for once." + +"What do you mean?" + +"He will try to see us later. That man is a member of the murderous +clan whom we seek. 'To-night is the night' for the exit of William +Grimsby--but, perhaps we may have a stage wait which will surprise +them." + +Gradually the guests thinned out in the tea-room, but Shirley cautiously +waited until the last. + +"Do you believe these young men are all members of the gang?" asked the +girl. "Why do you suppose these men are all criminals? They surely look +a bad lot." + +"There are two general reasons why men go wrong. One is hard luck, aided +by tempting opportunity--they hope to make a success out of failure, and +then keep on the straight path for the rest of their lives. Such men +are the absconders, the forgers, the bank-wreckers, and even the petty +thieves. But once branded with the prison bars and stripes, they seldom +find it possible to turn against the tide in which they find themselves: +so they become habitual offenders. They are the easiest criminals to +detect. The second class are the born crooks, who are lazy, sharp-witted +and without enough will-power to battle against the problems of +honesty in work. It is easy enough to succeed if a man is clever and +unscrupulous without a shred of generosity. The hard problem is to be +affectionate, human, and conquer every-day battles by remaining actively +honest, when your rivals are not straight. The born crook is safer from +prison than the weakling of the first class." He looked down at the +coffee, and then continued. + +"I do not believe all these young men are in this curious plot. They are +merely the small fry of the fishing banks: they are petty rascals, with +occasional big game. But somewhere, behind this sinister machine, is a +guiding hand on the throttle, a brain which is profound, an eye which +is all-seeing and a heart as cold as an Antartic mountain. There is the +exceptional type of criminal who is greedy--for money and its luxurious +possibilities; selfish--with regard for no other heart in the world; +crafty--with the cunning of an Apache, enjoying the thrill of crime and +cruelty; refined and vainglorious--with pride in his skill to thwart +justice and confidence in his ability to continually broaden the scope +of his work. Crime is the ruling passion of this unknown man. And the +way to catch him is by using that passion as a bait upon the hook. I +am the wriggling little angle worm who will dangle before his eyes +to-night. But I do not expect to land him--I merely purpose to learn his +identity, to draw the net of the law about him, in such a way as to keep +the Grimsby and Van Cleft names from the case." + +"And how can that be done?" + +"That, young lady, is my 'fatal secret.' The subplot developing within +my mind is still nebulous with me,--you would lose all interest, as +would I, if you knew what was going to happen. But the time has passed, +and now we can go to the theatre. I bought the tickets by messenger +this afternoon. I will let you do the talking to the chauffeur and the +usher." + +They left the tea-room, the last guests out. + +It was a touching sight to see the elderly gentleman supported on one +side by a fat French waiter, and on the opposite, by the solicitous +girl. The old Civil War wound was unusually troublesome. + + + + +CHAPTER X. WHEN IT'S DARK IN THE PARK + + +At the entrance of the restaurant the starter tooted his shrill whistle, +and a driver began to crank his automobile in the waiting line of cars. +According to the rules of the taxi stands he was next in order. But, as +is frequently the custom in the hotly contested district of "good fares" +another car "cut in" from across the street. This taxi swung quickly +around and drew up before the waiting criminologist. + +Grunting and mumbling, as though still deep in his cups, Monty allowed +himself to be half pushed, half lifted into the car by the attendant. +Helene followed him. "Winter Garden," she directed, and the machine sped +away, while the thwarted driver in the rear sent a volley of anathemas +after his successful competitor. + +Shirley scrutinized the interior of the machine, but there seemed +nothing to distinguish it from the thousands of other piratical craft +which pillage the public with the aid of the taximeter clock on the +port beam! Soon they were at the big Broadway playhouse, where Shirley +floundered out first, after the ungallant manner of many sere-and-yellow +beaux. He swayed unsteadily, teetering on his cane, as Helene leaped +lightly to the sidewalk beside him. The driver stood by the door of the +car, leering at him. + +"Here, keep the change," and Shirley handed him a generous bill. + +"Shall I wait fer ye, gov'nor? I ain't got no call to-night. I'll be +around here all evening." + +The criminologist nodded, and the chauffeur handed Helene the carriage +number check. + +"Don't let 'em steal de old gink, inside, girlie. He's strong fer de +chorus chickens." + +Helene shuddered before the hawk-like glare of his malevolent eyes, but +in her part, she shook her head with a laugh, and followed airily after +her escort. + +"Good-evening, sir. Back again to-night, I see," volunteered the ticket +taker, to whom William Grimsby was a familiar visitant. Shirley reeled +with steadied and studied equilibrium, into the foyer of the theatre, +as he nodded. Their seats were purposely in the rear of a side box, well +protected from the audience by the holders of the front positions. The +criminologist appeared to relapse into dreams of bygone days, while his +companion peered into the vast audience and then at the nimble limbed +chorus on the stage with piquant curiosity. + +"For years I wanted to see an American stage and an American audience," +she confided in an undertone, "and to think that when I do so, it is +acting myself, on the other side of the footlights in a stranger, more +dramatic part than any one else in the theatre. A curious world, isn't +it?" + +Shirley breathed deeply, drinking in the maddening perfume of her +glorious hair, so perilously near his own face. The shimmer of her +shoulders, the adorable curves of that enticing scarlet mouth murmuring +so near his own, and yet so far away, in this soul-racking game of +make-believe, stirred his blood as nothing else had done in all the +kalaediscopic years. + +"Yes, a more than curious world. How things have changed since last +evening when I planned a sleepy evening at the opera. I wonder what the +outcome will be?" + +Helene looked up at him quickly, then as suddenly toward the Russian +danseuse within the golden frame of the great proscenium. The orchestra, +with its maddening Slavic music, stirred her pulses with a strange +telepathy. The evening wore along, until the final curtain. Shirley, +with cumbersome effort helped her with her cloak, dropping his hat and +stick more than once in simulated awkwardness. The electric numerals of +the carriage call soon brought the grimy-faced chauffeur. + +"Jack on the spot, gov'nor, that's me!" and he swung the door open. + +"We'll go get some supper--no, we'll take little 'scursion in Central +Park, first," and his voice was thick, "correct, cabbie. Drive us shru +Central Park." + +"Are you going to take a chance in a dark park?" Helene asked him, +as they sat within the car, while the chauffeur cranked. Shirley was +sharply observing the man. A pedestrian crossed directly in front of the +machine, brushing against the driver, as he fumbled with the lamp. If +there were an interchange of words, the criminologist could not detect +it. + +"Surely. The park is good. We can be free of interference from the +police. Are you afraid?" + +"No--" yet, it was a pardonably weak little voice which uttered the +valiant monosyllable. + +"Here, Miss Marigold. Take this revolver. Don't use it until you have +to, but then don't hesitate a second." + +The machine started slowly up the street. Shirley groped about the +sides and bottom of the car, to make sure that no one could be concealed +within it. They were advancing up Broadway in leisurely fashion. It +might have been for the purpose of allowing some to follow. Shirley +wondered, then sniffed the air suspiciously. The girl looked at him with +a silent question. + +"Quick, tear off your glove and let me have that diamond ring I noticed +on your finger, the large solitaire, not the dinner ring." + +Unquestioningly she obeyed. There was a strange Oriental odor in the +car--suggestive of an incense. The car was gliding up Central Park West, +toward one of the road entrances into the Park proper. Shirley's hand +clutched the ring, tensely. The driver, tactfully looking straight to +the front, gave no heed to the occupants of the Death Car. He was, by +this time speeding too rapidly for either of his passengers to have +leaped out without injury. Shirley understood the smoothness of the +voice's system, by now. His hand slid to the top of the glass door pane, +on the right. Down the glass, across the bottom, down from the other +corner, and then over the top line, he cut with the diamond, using a +peculiar pressure. He rose to his feet, gave the lower part of the pane +a sharp tap. The glass, practically cut loose from its case, now +dropped and would have slid out to the roadway with a crash had he not +dexterously caught it, to draw it into the car. Quickly he repeated +the operation with the door pane at the left. A nauseating, weakening +something in the car sent Helene's head spinning; she choked for breath +and lay back weakly, despite her will. Shirley turned to the small glass +square in the rear. This came out more easily. He lay the glass with the +others, on the floor of the car. The good clear air whirled through the +openings, reviving the girl. + +"Keep your eyes open, and that revolver ready. Now is the time. Pretend +to sleep." + +Shirley had drawn his own automatic by this time, and he realized that +the machine was slowing down. The chauffeur, as they passed a walk +light, looked back, observing that the two were apparently unconscious. +He slowed down still more, and tooted his horn three times. A large +touring car passed them, to stop some distance ahead. Then it sped on, +as Shirley's taxi followed lazily. + +A figure suddenly came out of the darkness of the road. The driver +stopped the taxi, and walked around the front, as though to adjust the +lamp. The door opened slowly. A face covered with a black handkerchief +obtruded. A hand slid up the detective's knee, along his side toward the +abdomen, and a protruding thumb began a singular pressure directly below +the criminologist's heart. Shirley's analysis for Dr. MacDonald had been +correct! But jiu-jitsu is essentially a game for two. + +Shirley's left hand suddenly shot forth to the neck of his assailant. +His muscular fingers closed in a deft and vice-like pinch directly below +the silk handkerchief. It was the pneumogastric nerve, which he reached: +a nerve which, when deadened by Oriental skill, paralyzes the vocal +chords. Not a sound emanated from the mysterious man, even when +Shirley's right hand shot forward, under the chin of the other, for a +deft blow across the thorax. The other tumbled backward. + +"What's wrong, Chief? Too much gas?" cried the chauffeur rushing to +the side of the fallen man. As the driver dropped to his knees, Shirley +flung himself like a tiger upon the rascal's back. The struggle was +brief--the same silent silencer accomplished its purpose. Before the +man knew what had happened to him, he was dragged inside the car, and +another deft pinch sent him to oblivion! + +"Hit him over the forehead with the butt of the revolver if he opens his +mouth," grunted Shirley. "This is the chauffeur, now I'll get the other +one." + +Just then a cry came from the darkness: it was a passing patrolman. + +"What you doing in that auto?" + +But Shirley waited for no parley-explanations, showing his hand, laying +the whole scandal before the morning edition of the newspapers, were all +out of question now. He must take up the pursuit later. He caught up, +the chauffeur's cap, sprang into the driver's seat, and the car shot +forward like a race horse as he threw forward the lever. The astonished +policeman was within twenty-five yards of the spot, when the auto +disappeared in the darkness. He pursued it vainly. + +A few moments later, a man with a handkerchief across his face, groaned +and then raised himself on his elbow, there in the roadway. He could not +remember where he was, nor why. Slowly he crawled on hands and +knees, into the rhododendrons by the roadside, where he again lost +consciousness. + +A big touring car rounded the curve of the roadway. + +"Not a sign of the Chief," said the driver. "He must have gone back to +the garage with the Monk. But that's a fool idea. Let's get down there +right away." + +The injured man's memory returned, and he rose stiffly to his feet. +He limped out of the Park, putting away the handkerchief, muttering +profanity and trying to fathom the mystery. As nearly as he could reason +it out, he must have been struck by another machine from the rear. + +Far up in the northernmost driveway of the Park, where shrub grown banks +and rocky uplands shelter the thoroughfares, Shirley stopped his runaway +taxicab. + +"Let me have his rubber coat, for I'm going to hide this car out on Long +Island. It's a long ride, but this man and his machine will disappear as +completely as though they had been dumped in the ocean." + +Shirley manacled the prisoner, and gagged him with a tightly knotted +handkerchief. He put the greatcoat of Grimsby's about Helene's +shoulders, as he brought her to the front seat of the machine. Then he +shut the doors on the prisoner, and drove the automobile out through the +Easterly entrance of the park. + +"I'm not really brave, Mr. Montague," said the tired voice at his side. +"I'm so glad I'm sitting by you, instead of back inside. We will be home +soon, won't we? I'm so exhausted--my first day in a strange country, you +know." + +Shirley, with the skill of a racing expert, guided the machine through +the maze of streets toward the Bridge over the East River. The touch of +that sweet shoulder, as it unconsciously nestled against his own, sent +through him a tremor which he had not experienced during the weird +silent battle in the dark. + +"A strange night, in a strange country. Are you sorry you tried it?" + +With a sidelong glance, he caught the starry light in her eyes as she +looked up at him: there seemed more than the mere reflection of passing +street lamps. + +"A wonderful night: I'm glad, so glad, not sorry," was her dreamy +response. She lapsed into silence as the somnolent drone of the motor +and the whirr of the wheels caused the tired eyes to close sleepily. + +When he looked at her again, as they were speeding down the bridge +Plaza in Long Island City, she was dozing. The drowsy head touched +his shoulder; she seemed like a child, worn out with games, trustingly +asleep in the care of a big, strong brother. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. A TURN IN THE TRAIL + + +Helene was still asleep when Shirley stopped the engine of the taxi +before a stately Colonial mansion seated back among the pines of a +beautiful Long Island estate. They had been driving for more than an +hour. The girl stirred languorously as he strove to awaken her. She +murmured drowsily: + +"No, Jack, dear. Emphatically no. Let's not talk about it any more, dear +boy." + +"Who can Jack be?" and a surprising pang shot through Montague Shirley's +heart. "Jack, dear! Well, and what's it my business. She is a stranger. +She lives her life and I mine. But, at any rate, that settles some silly +things I've been thinking. I'm less awake than she is." + +This time he tried with better success, and Helene rubbed her eyes, with +hands stiffened by the brisk bite of the chill wind. She gazed at the +dimly lit house, at the big figure beside her, as Shirley sprang to the +ground--then remembered it all, and trembled despite herself. + +"Oh, it's you, Mr. Shirley," and she summoned up a little throaty laugh, +as she arose stiffly. "What a queer place to be in!" + +"We are a long way from New York's white lights, Miss Marigold. This is +the country home of a good old friend of mine. You can remain here for +the rest of the night, as his wife's guest. To-morrow, when you are +rested, he can send you to the city in one of his cars." + +"You are the most curious man in two continents. I am bewildered. First, +you kidnap a chauffeur and privateer his car, then me. Now you besiege a +friend and wish to leave me on his doorstep as a foundling." + +"I'm sorry--it's the exigency of war! We must finish what we started. +This is the only place I know where I could thoroughly hide my trail. We +must wake up Jim, but first I will have a look at our guest." + +Shirley walked around the car, shooting the beam from his pocket +flashlight in through the open window of the taxi, to be met by +the wicked black eyes of his prisoner, who uttered volumes of +unpronounceable hatred. + +"You are still with us, little bright eyes. A pleasant trip, I trust? I +hope you found the air good--I tried to improve the ventilation for your +benefit, as well as my own." Only a subdued gurgle answered him. + +"Oh, what will they think of me--in this immodest gown, with this paint +on my face, and at this hour of night?" pleaded Helene, as he started +toward the door of the mansion. + +"It would be awful at that," and Shirley paused at the beseeching tone +of the girl. "I want you to meet Mrs. Jim as well as Jim. I am afraid +they would think this was the echo of an old college escapade, and +misjudge you. Let me think--" + +He led her to a little summer-house close by, and tucked the big coat +about her as he added: "It's dark here--the wind doesn't reach you, and +I'll take you back to town in five minutes. Will that do?" + +As she nodded, he hurried to the door where he yanked vigorously at the +bell. An angry head protruded from an upper story, after many encores of +the peals. + +"Aw, what the dickens? Go some place else and find out!" + +"Jim, Jim. It's Monty! Come down and let me in quick." + +The window closed with a bang as the head was withdrawn, while a light +soon appeared in the beveled panes of the big front door. + +"You poor boob," was the cheerful greeting as it swung wide, "What +brings you out here? I thought it was the usual joy party which had lost +its way. They always pick me out for an information bureau. Come on in!" + +Shirley spoke rapidly, in a low tone. The girl in the dark summer-house +marveled at the rapid change of mien, as Jim suddenly ran down the steps +to gaze into the taxicab, then nodding to Shirley. The house-holder +as promptly returned through his front door, while Shirley swiftly +unmanacled the prisoner enough to let him walk, stiff and awkward from +the long ordeal in the car. The stern grip, of his captor prompted +obedience. + +Friend Jim had appeared with warmer garments, carrying a lantern. At the +door of the stable Jim's stentorian yell to the groom seemed useless, +but the two men entered. Helene felt miserably weak and deserted, in +the chill night, but she was cheered by seeing the energetic Shirley +reappear, pushing open the doors of the garage, which was connected with +the stable. He hurried to the deserted taxicab, where he seemed busied +for several minutes, the glow of his pocket lamp shooting out now and +then. Through the door of the garage a long, rakish-looking racing car +was being pushed out by Jim and his sleepy groom. There was a cheery +shout from the taxi, and Helene heard a ripping sound. Shirley +reappeared, carrying an oblong box. + +"I have the gas generator:--it was built in, under the seat, and +controlled by a battery wire from the front lamp, Jim. A nice little +mechanism. Well, old pal, please apologize to Mrs. Merrivale for my rude +interruption of her beauty sleep. Keep a fatherly eye on Gentleman Mike, +and the taxicab under cover. I'll communicate with you very soon. So +long." + +To Helene's amazement, Shirley cranked the racer, jumped in and seemed +to be starting away without her, down the sweep of the driveway. Could +he have forgotten her? The man must indeed be mad, as some of his +actions indicated! But her aroused indignation was turned to admiration +of his finesse, for suddenly he veered the lights of the car toward +the garage door, throwing them in the faces of Jim and his servant. He +leaped out again, walking past the place of concealment. + +"Slip into the car, while I go inside with them. I'll come out on the +run, and no one will be the wiser." + +With this passing stage direction he rushed toward his accomodating +friend, with some final directions. They were apparently humorous in +content, for both the other men roared with mirth, as he walked inside +the building, with them, an arm around the shoulder of each. Helene +obeyed him, hiding as best she could in the low seat of the throbbing +machine. As Shirley returned, Jim Merrivale was still laughing blithely. + +"Good-bye, you old maniac: you'll be the death of me. I'll take care of +the star boarder, however, and feed him champagne and mushrooms." + +With a roar, Shirley started the engines, as he bounced into the seat, +and they sped down the curving driveway, with Helene leaning forward, +unobserved. + +"There, we've had a little by-play that friend Jim didn't guess. I +always enjoy a little intrigue," he laughed, as they whizzed along +toward distant New York. "But, I had to lie, and lie, and lie--like the +light that lies in women's eyes. What a jolly game!" + +He was a big boy, happy in the excitement, and bubbling with his +superabundance of vitality. Helene felt curiously drawn toward him, in +this mood: she remembered a little paragraph she had read in a book that +day: + +"A woman loves a man for the boy spirit that she discovers in him: she +loves him out of pity when it dies!" Then she fearsomely changed the +current of her thoughts, to complain pathetically of the cold wind! + +"There, now, I am so thoughtless," was his apology, as he stopped +the car, to wrap the overcoat more closely about her, and tuck her +comfortably in a big fur. Through the darkened streets of the suburb +they raced, entering the silent factory districts, which presaged the +nearness of the river. It was well on toward daybreak before they rolled +over the Queensboro Bridge to Manhattan. It was his second day without +sleep, but Shirley was sustained by the bizarre nature of the exploit: +he could have kept at the steering wheel for an eternity. + +"Are you glad we're getting back?" he asked. Helene shook her head, then +she answered dreamily. + +"Do you remember something from one of Browning's poems, that I do? It's +just silly for us, but I understand it better now." + +Shirley surprised her by quoting it, as he looked ahead into the dark +street through which they swung, his unswerving hand steady on the +wheel: + + "What if we still ride on, we two, + With life forever old yet new, + Changed not in kind, but in degree, + The instant made eternity,-- + And heaven just prove that I and she + Ride, ride together, forever ride?" + +A quick flush, not caused by the biting wind, suffused her cheek beneath +the remnants of the rouge. Then she laughed up at him appreciatively. + +"Curious how our minds ran that way, and hit the very same poem, wasn't +it?" + +Shirley smiled back, as he swung down Fifth Avenue. + +"Not so curious after all!" + +Soon they drew up before the ornate portal of the California Hotel, +where late arrivals were so customary as to cause no comment. He bade +her good-night, words seeming futile after their long hours together. +The drive in the car to the club was short. Paddy the door man was +instructed to send down to Shirley's own garage for a mechanic to store +the car until further orders. The criminologist had ere this rubbed off +his grease paint, so that his appearance was not unusual. Once in his +rooms he treated himself to a piping hot shower, cleaned off the powder +from his dark locks, and as he smoked a soothing cigarette, in his +bathrobe, studied the mechanism of the gas generator for a few moments. + +"That was made by an expert who understands infernal machines with a +malevolent genius. I must look out for him," he mused. "Well, I promised +Professor MacDonald that I would not sleep until I had come face to face +with the voice. I have fulfilled the vow: now for forgetfulness." + +He tumbled into bed, but not to oblivion. For his dreams were disturbed +by tantalizing visions of certain sun-gold locks and blue eyes not at +all in their simple connection with the business end of the Van Cleft +mystery. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. THE HAND OF THE VOICE + + +It took stoicism to the Nth degree for Shirley to respond to the early +telephone call next morning, from the clerk of the club. A few minutes +of violent exercise, in the hand ball court, the plunge, a short swim in +the natatorium and a rub down from the Swedish masseur, however, brought +him around to the mood for another adventure. Sending for the racing +car he began the round-up of details. There was, first of all, Captain +Cronin to be visited in Bellevue. Here he was agreeably surprised to +find the detective chief recuperating with the abettance of his rugged +Celtic physique. The nurse told Shirley that another day's treatment +would allow the Captain to return to his own home: Shirley knew this +meant the executive office of the Holland Detective Agency. + +"And sure, Monty, when I have a free foot once again, I'm going to apply +it to them gangsters who put me to sleep." + +"Just what I want you to do, Captain! I 'phoned to your men this morning +while I had breakfast at the club: they have that taxicab which was left +near Van Cleft's house. It's put away safely, Cleary said. There are two +gangsters where the dogs won't bite them; today they are sending out to +Jim Merrivale's house to get the third and he'll be busy with a little +private third degree. I have no evidence which would connect the man +who tried to kill me last night with the other murders, except in a +circumstantial way. What I must do is to follow up the trail, and get +the gentleman carrying out the bales, in other words, with the goods on +him." + +"You'll get him, Monty, if I know you. The fellow hasn't called up at +all on the telephone to-day. I think he's afraid of you." + +"No, Captain Cronin, not that! He's up to some new game. Well, I'm +off--take care of yourself and don't eat anything the nurse doesn't +bring you with her own hands. I wouldn't put anything past this gang." + +He shook hands and hurried out of the hospital, with several more +errands to complete. He looked vainly about him for the gray racing-car. +It was gone! Here was another unexpected interference with his work, and +Shirley, sotto voce, expressed himself more practically than politely. +He hurried to an ambulance driver who stood in a doorway, solacing his +jangled nerves with a corn-cob smoke. + +"Neighbor, did you see any one take the gray car standing here a few +minutes ago?" + +"Yep, a feller just came out of the hospital entry, cranked her and +jumped in." + +"How long ago?" + +"Well, I just returned with a suicide actor case five minutes ago." + +"Then you might have seen him enter first?" + +"Nope. Not a sign. All I seen was the way he cranked the machine, and +he didn't waste any elbow grease doin' it, either. He knew the trick. +That's what I thought when I seen him, even if he did look like a dude." + +Shirley hurried to the entry once more. This was the only portal through +which visitors were admitted to the hospital for the purpose of calling +on patients. He hastened to the uniformed attendant who took down the +names of all applicants. This man, upon inquiry, was a trifle dubious. +True, there had been two Italian women and before them--yes, there had +been a young chap with a green velour hat, and white spats. He had asked +about a Captain Cronin, and when told that a visitor was already seeing +the patient, agreed to wait outside. It had been about five minutes +before. The man was indefinite about more details. Shirley hurried to +the telephone booth in the corridor. To Headquarters he reported the +theft of car "99835 N.Y.," giving a description of its special features +and its make. This warning he knew would be telephoned to all stations +within five minutes, so that every policeman in New York would be on +the lookout for the missing machine. Satisfied, he left the hospital, to +walk across the long block to the nearest north and south avenue, where +he might catch a surface car. + +Suddenly he halted, to mutter in astonishment at a sight which was the +surprise of the morning: it was the missing car standing peacefully on +the next corner. + +"I wonder what that means?" he murmured, as he stopped to study with +great interest the window of an Italian green grocer. A sidelong glance +at the car and its surroundings revealed nothing out of the way. He +retraced his steps to the hospital, wasted ten minutes with a cigarette +or two, and still no one seemed to take an interest in the automobile. +Finally he walked up to the car, trying the lock of which he had the +only key. Apparently it had been untampered with, for the key worked +perfectly. Here was Jim Merrivale's car, a good three hundred yards away +from the place where he had locked it to prevent any moving. He felt +certain that keen eyes had him under surveillance, yet he could not +observe any observers within the range of his own vision. It was simply +a stupid, quiet slum neighborhood and at the time, unusually deserted by +the customary hordes of children and dogs! + +What had been the purpose in moving it such a short distance? + +Where had it been in the twenty-five minutes since he had left it at the +entrance to the hospital? + +Why had it been left here, of all places, where he would naturally walk +if desirous of taking a street-car? + +There seemed no immediate answer to the conundrums. So, he nonchalantly +clambered into the car, after cranking it. The mechanism seemed in +perfect order. Puzzled, he started to speed up the street, when he +observed a white envelope close by his foot, on the floor of the car. + +He picked it up, and tearing it open quickly read this simple message. + +"To whom it may concern: It is frequently advisable to mind your own +business--is it not? Answer: Yes!" + +"Huh," grunted Shirley. "While not thrilling in originality, it is a +lasting truth which nobody can deny. I'll save this and frame it on the +walls of my rooms." + +As he drove around the corner and up the Avenue, there was suddenly a +terrific explosion, which threw him completely out of the machine! +The car, without a driver, its engines whirring madly, dashed into a +helpless corner fruit stand, scattering oranges, bananas, apples and +desolation in its wake, as it vainly endeavored to climb to the second +story with super-mechanical intelligence! Shirley, stunned and bruised, +fell to the pavement where he lay until an excited patrolman rushed to +his rescue. + +A little "first aid" work brought Shirley back to consciousness, and he +stiffly rose to his feet, with a head throbbing too much for any real +thinking. + +"What's the matter with your auto?" cried the policeman. "Can't you run +it? Let's see the number." The officer took out his notebook, to jot +down the details according to police rules. Then he turned on Shirley in +amazement. "Be gorry, it's car 99835 N.Y. I just wrote the number down +when I came on post with my squad! This car is stolen. You come with +me!" + +Shirley had been adjusting the mechanism, and the wheels had ceased +their whirring. He tried to expostulate in a dazed way, realizing that +for once the department was working with a vengeful promptness. He was +hoist by his own petard! + +"I'm the owner of the car," he began, rubbing his aching forehead. + +"What's yer name?" + +"Montague Shirley!" The policeman laughed, as he caught the +criminologist by the shoulder, and blew his whistle for another man from +post duty. + +"You lie. This car is owned by James Merrivale. You can't put over +raw stuff like that on me. I'm no rookie--Here, Joe," (as the other +policeman ran up through the growing, jeering crowd,) "watch this +machine. This guy's one of them auto Raffles, and I done a good job when +I lands him. I'm going to the station-house now." + +The other policeman was examining the car, when he called to his fellow +officer: "Here, Sim, did you see this car was blown up inside the seat?" + +Shirley, his acuteness returned by this time, ran to the car eluding his +captor's hold. He had not observed before the jagged shattered hole torn +in the side of the leather side. It had all happened so swiftly, that +his professional instincts were slow in reasserting themselves after the +"buck" of the car. + +"You're right," he exclaimed. "There's an alarm clock and a dry +battery--the same man made this who built the gas-generator--" + +"Whadd'ye mean--ain't you the feller after all?" asked the first +patrolman, beginning to get dubious about his arrest. + +"No, I am no thief. But just take me to the station-house quick, and +turn in your report. Let this other man guard that car. Hurry up!" + +"Say, feller, who do you think is making this arrest? You'll go to the +station-house when I get ready." + +"Then you're ready now," snapped the criminologist. "You'll see me +discharged very promptly, when I speak to the Commissioner over the +wire." + +The officer was supercilious until the station-house was reached. He +had heard this blatant talk before. What was his surprise when Shirley +telephoned to the head of the Department and then called the Captain to +the instrument. + +"Release Mr. Shirley at once," was the crisp order. "Give him any men or +assistance he needs." + +"Well, whadd'ye know about that? Not even entered on the blotter to +credit me with a good arrest!" The patrolman turned away in disgust. + +"Do you want any of the reserves, sir?" The Captain was scrupulously +polite. + +"Not one. I'm going to study that machine again. You might detail a +plain clothes man to walk along the other side of the street for luck. +Good-day." + +The automobile to which he returned was still the object of community +interest. Shirley took the remains of the bomb which had caused his +sudden elevation. The policeman approached him from the fruit store. + +"The man wants damages for the stock you destroyed, mister. I'll fix it +up with him if you want--about twenty-five dollars will do." + +"Well, hand him this five-dollar bill and see if that won't dry some of +the imported tears," retorted Shirley with a laugh. In a few minutes he +was bowling along on a surface car, to the club. There was no longer any +use in trying to hide his identity or address, for the conspirators knew +at least of his interest and assistance in the case: although in this as +all others he was not known to be a professional sleuth. + +In the quiet of his room he drew out magnifying glasses and other +instruments for a thorough analysis of the remains of the infernal +machine. He compared this with the mechanism of the gas-generator which +had been placed in the seat of the Death taxi. There was evidence that +it had come from the same source. Shirley sniffed at the generator and +the peculiar odor still clinging to it was familiar. + +"Well, I think I will have a little surprise for Mr. Voice, the next +time we grapple, which will be an encore of his own tune, with a new +verse!" + +He went to a cabinet, took out a small glass vial, filled with a limpid +liquid and placed it within his own pocket. Then he prepared for a new +line of activities for the day. His first duty was a call on Pat Cleary, +superintendent of the Holland Agency. + +"The Captain is progressing splendidly," was his answer to the anxious +query. "He will be back in the harness again to-morrow. How are the +prisoners?" + +"They have tried to break out twice and gave my doorman a black eye. But +they got four in return: Nick is no mollycoddle, you know. I can't quite +get the number of these fellows, for they are not registered down at +Headquarters, in the Rogue's Gallery. Their finger-prints are new ones +in this district, too. They look like imported birds, Mr. Shirley. What +do you think?" + +Cleary's opinion of the club man had been gaining in ascendency. + +"They may be visitors from another city, but I think the state will keep +them here as guests for a nice long time, Cleary. They say New York is +inhospitable to strangers, but we occasionally pay for board and room +from the funds of the taxpayers without a kick. We saved the day for the +Van Clefts, all right. The paper told of a beautiful but quiet funeral +ceremony, while the daughter has postponed her marriage for six months." + +Then he recounted the adventure of the exploding car. Cleary lit his +malodorous pipe, and shook his head thoughtfully. + +"Young man, you know your own affairs best. But with all your money, +you'd better take to the tall pines yourself, like these old guys in +the 'Lobster Club.' That's the advice of a man who's in the business for +money not glory. This is a bum game. They'll get me some day, some of +these yeggs or bunk artists that I've sent away for recuperation, as +the doctors call it. But I'm doing it for bread and beefsteak, while it +lasts. You run along and play--a good way from the fire, or you'll get +more than your fingers burnt. Take their hint and beat it while the +beating's good." + +A glint of steel shone from the eyes of the criminologist as he lit +another cigarette and took up his walking-stick. + +"Why, Cleary, this is what I call real sport. Why go hunting polar bears +and tigers when we've got all this human game around the Gold Coast of +Manhattan? I'm tired of furs: I want a few scalps. Good-morning." + +As Cleary went up the stairway to renew the ginger of the Third Degree +for the two prisoners, he smiled to himself, and muttered: + +"The guy ain't such a boob as he looks: he's just a high-class nut. I'd +enjoy it myself if it wasn't my regular work." + +At Dick Holloway's office Shirley was greeted with an eager demand for +his report of the former evening's activities. An envious look was on +the face of the theatrical manager. + +"Shucks, Monty! It's a shame that all this sport is private stock, and +can't be bottled up and peddled to the public, for they're just crazy +about gangster melodrama. They're paying opera prices for the old time +ten-twent-and-thirt-melodrama, right on Broadway. Hurry up and get the +man and I'll have him dramatized while the craze is rampant." + +"Not while I own the copyright," retorted Shirley, "this is one of the +chapters of my life that isn't going to be typewritten, much less the +subject of gate-receipts." + +"I'm not so certain of that," and Holloway's smile was quizzical. + +"What do you mean? Who is this Helene Marigold? I have a right to know +in a case like this." + +"Good intuition, as far as you go. But you're guessing wrong, for she +has nothing to do with my little joke. But why worry about her?" laughed +Holloway. His friend had leaned forward, intensely, clutching his cane, +with an unusually serious look on his face. Holloway had never seen +Shirley take such an interest in any woman before. He arose from +his desk-chair and walked to the broad window, which overlooked the +thronging sidewalks of Broadway. + +"Down there is the biggest, busiest street in the world filled with +women of all hues and shades. This is the first time you ever looked so +anxious about any combination of lace, curls, silks and gew-gaws before. +You have been the bright and shining example of indifferent bachelor +freedom which has made me--thrice divorced--so envious of your +unalloyed, unalimonied joy. Don't betray the feet of clay which have +supported my idol!" + +The baffling smile of the debonair club man returned to Shirley's face, +as he twitted back: "Purely an altruistic inquiry, Dick. I feared that +you might be risking your own heart and the modicum of freedom which you +still possess. But I'll wager a supper-party for four that I'll find out +who she is, without either you or she telling me." + +"Taken. At last I'm to have a free banquet, after years of business +entertaining. You have met a girl who will match your wits--I expect the +sparks to fly. Well, she's worth while--I might do worse--but in perfect +fairness she ought to do better. How about it?" + +"Yes, with Jack," and Shirley tapped the walking stick on the floor with +an emphatic thump, while Holloway regarded him in startled surprise. + +"Who is Jack?" + +"You see--I am learning already. But, you and I are drifting from my +task. I wish that you would take me to call on Miss Marigold, in my +present lack of disguise. I do not care for that ancient garb any +longer. It was stretching the chances rather far, but thanks to the +darkness, the champagne, and good fortune, I succeeded in impersonating +our aged friend without detection. I will not return to Grimsby's house, +but propose now to get down to brass tacks with Mr. Voice, even though +the tacks be hard to sit upon. I wish to use her as a bait, by taking +her out to tea and getting a first-hand speaking acquaintance with these +convivial assassins." + +"Monty, you are wasting your talents outside the pages of a play +manuscript, but we will make that call instanter." + +In leisure, they promenaded up the crowded Gay Wide Way, through the +noontime crowd of theatrical folk who dot the thoroughfare in this part +of the city. His adversaries were to have every opportunity to observe +his movements and draw their own conclusions. At the Hotel California +new comment buzzed between the garrulous clerk and the switchboard +person, at sight of the well-known manager and his prosperous-looking +companion. + +"Who is that come on?" asked the clerk of the bellboy. + +"Sure, dat's Montague Shirley, one of dem rich ginks from de College +Club on Forty-fourth Street, where I used to woik in de check room. If I +had dat guy's money I'd buy a hotel like dis." + +"Then I see where Holloway, with that blonde dame upstairs, will be +putting on a new musical show, with a new angel. It's a great business, +Miss Gwendolyn--no wonder they call it art." And the clerk removed a +silk handkerchief from his coat cuff, to dust the register wistfully. +"Why didn't I devote my talents to the drama instead of room-keys and +due-bills?" + +But Miss Gwendolyn was too busy talking to the Milwaukee drummer in Room +72 to formulate a logical reason. Shirley and Holloway improved the time +by taking the elevator to the top floor where Helene greeted them at the +door of her pretty apartment. She welcomed them happily, declaring it +had been a lonesome morning. + +"Weren't you resting from that long thrill of last night, in which you +starred?" asked Holloway. + +"It was too thrilling for me to sleep: I know I look a perfect frump, +this morning. I tossed on the pillow, watching the dawn over your +towering New York roofs, so nervous and almost miserable. But, with +company, it's all right again." + +Holloway laughed inwardly at the warmth of the glance which she bestowed +upon Shirley. From the angle of an audience, he was beginning to observe +a phase of this double play of personalities which was unseen by either +of the participants. Two sleepless nights, after such a first evening +together, and what then? He imagined the denouement, with a growing +enjoyment of his vantage-point as the game advanced. + +"To-day, I am reversing the usual progress of history," said Shirley, as +he sat down in the window-seat. "From second juvenility I am returning +to the first. In other words, I wish to become your adoring suitor in +the role of Montague Shirley." + +"I don't understand," and her eyes widened in wonder, not without an +accompanying blush which did not escape Holloway. + +"No longer a lamb in sheep's clothing, I want to entertain you, without +the halo of William Grimsby's millions. I want to take tea with these +gentle-voiced cut-throats, who after my warning to-day, are directing +their attention to me." He narrated the narrow escape from death in +the racing-car. Helene's eyes darkened with an uncertainty which he had +hardly expected. Perhaps she would refuse to carry out their compact +along these dangerous lines. + +"Do you feel it wise to place yourself beneath this new menace?" + +"The sword of Damocles is over me now, I know. To run would be a +confession of weakness and open the field for his further activities, +with the rear-guard continuously exposed. There is nothing like the +personal equation. I will call at five this afternoon, if you are +willing, Miss Marigold?" + +"I will fight it out to the end," and she placed her warm hand firmly +within his own. The two friends departed, Shirley retracing his steps to +the club where many things were to be studied and planned. His system +of debit and credit records of facts known and needed, was one which +brought finite results. As he smoked and pondered at his ease, a tapping +on the study door aroused him from his vagrant speculations. At his +call, a respectful Japanese servant presented a note, just left by a +messenger-boy. He tore the envelope and read it. + +"Montague Shirley:--The third time is finis. As a friend you +accomplished the purpose you sought. There is no grudge against you. +Why seek one? It is fatal for you to remain in the city. Leave while you +have time." + +That was all. The chirography was the same as that upon the note of the +racing-car episode. Shirley locked up the missive in his cabinet, and +smiled at the increasing tenseness of the situation. + +"The writer of these two notes may have an opportunity to leave town +himself before long, to rest his nerves in the quiet valley of the +Hudson, at Ossining. My friend the enemy will soon be realizing a +deficit in his rolling-stock and gentlemanly assistants. Two automobiles +and three prisoners to date. There should be additional results before +midnight. I wonder where he gardens into fruition these flowers of +crime?" + +And even as he pondered, a curious scene was being enacted within a +dozen city blocks of the commodious club house. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. THE SPIDER'S WEB + + +The setting was a bleak and musty cellar, beneath an old stable of +dingy, brick construction. The building had been modernized to the +extent of one single decoration on the street front, an electric sign: +"Garage." On the floor, level with the sidewalk, stood half a dozen +automobiles of varied manufacture and age. Near the wide swinging +doors of oak, stood a big, black limousine. Two taxicabs of the usual +appearance occupied the space next to this, while a handsome machine +faced them on the opposite side of the room. Two ancient machines were +backed against the wall, in the rear. + +In the basement beneath, several men were grouped in the front +compartment, which was separated by a thick wooden partition from the +rear of the cellar. Three dusty incandescents illuminated this space. In +the back a curious arrangement of two large automobile headlights set on +deal tables directed glaring rays toward the one door of the partition. +In the center of the rear room was another table, standing behind a +screen of wire gauze, at the bottom of which was cut a small semicircle, +large enough for the protrusion of a white, tense hand, whose fingers +were even now spasmodically clenching in nervous indication of fury. +Behind either lamp was a heavy black screen, which effectually shut off +ingress to that portion of the room. + +The man standing between the table and the closed door of the partition, +full in the light of the lamps, watched the hand as though fascinated. +He could see nothing else, for behind the gauze all was darkness. +Absolutely invisible, sat the possessor of the hand, observing the face +of his interviewer, on the brighter side of the gauze. + +"So, there's no word from the Monk?" + +"No, chief. De bloke's disappeared. Either he got so much swag offen dis +old Grimsby guy, after youse got de bumps, or he had cold feet and beat +it wid de machine." + +"It's a crooked game on me." rasped the voice behind the screen. "I'll +send him up for this. You know how far my lines go out. What about Dutch +Jake and Ben the Bite?" + +The man before the screen shook his head in helpless bewilderment There +was a suggestion of fright in his manner, as well. + +"Can't find out a t'ing, gov'nor. I hopes you don't blame me for dis. +I'm doin' my share. Dey just disappears dat night w'en you sends 'em to +shadder Van Cleft's joint. My calcerlation is--" + +"I'm not paying you to calculate. I've trusted you and lost six thousand +dollars' worth of automobiles for my pains. You can just calculate this, +that unless I get some news about Jake, Ben and the Monk by this time +tomorrow, I'll send some news down to Police headquarters on Lafayette +Street that will make you wish you had never been born." + +For some reason not difficult to guess, the suggestion had a galvanic +effect on the bewildered one. His hands trembled as he raised them +imploringly to the screen. + +"Oh, gov'nor, wot have I done? Ain't I been on de level wid yez? Say, +I ain't never even seen yez for de fourteen months I've been yer +gobetween. I've been beat up by de cops, pinched and sent to de +workhouse 'cause I wouldn't squeal, and now ye t'reatens me. Did I ever +fall down on a trick ontil dis week? You'se ain't goin' ter welch on me, +are you'se? I ain't no welcher meself, an' ye knows it." + +The other snapped out curtly: "Very well, cut out the sob stuff. It's +up to you to prove that there hasn't been a leak somewhere or a double +cross. Send in those rummies,--I want to give them the once over again. +There's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, and I'm no abolitionist! +Quick now. Get a wiggle on." + +The hand was withdrawn from the little opening, as the lieutenant +advanced into the front compartment of the cellar. He beckoned meaningly +to the others to follow him. They obeyed with a slinking walk, which +showed that they were obsessed by some great dread, in that unseen +presence, in the heart of the spider-web! + +"Which one of you is the stool pigeon," came the harsh query. + +"W'y, gov'nor, none of us. You'se knows us," whined one of the men. + +"Yes, and I know enough to send you all to Atlanta or Sing Sing or +Danamora, for the rest of your rotten lives, if I want to." + +The rascals stared vainly into the black vacuum of the screen, blinking +in the glaring lights, cowering instinctively before the unseen but +certain malignancy of the power behind that mysterious wall. + +"I brought you here to New York," continued the master, "you are making +more money with less work and risk than ever before. But you're playing +false with me, and I know some one is slipping information where it +oughtn't to go. I'm going to skin alive the one who I catch. There's one +eye that never sleeps, don't forget that." + +"Gee, boss, wot do we know to slip?" advanced the most forward of them. +"We follers orders, and gets our kale and dat's all. We ain't never +even seen ya, and don't know even wot de whole game is. Don't queer us, +gov'nor!" + +"Go out front again, and shut off this blab. I warn you that's all-Now, +Phil, give this to the men. Tell them to keep off the cocaine--they're +getting to be a lot of bone heads lately. Too much dope will spoil the +best crook in the world." + +The white hand passed out a roll of crisp, new currency to the +lieutenant of the gang, who gingerly reached for it, as though he +expected the tapering fingers to claw him. + +"Fifty dollars to each man. No holding out. Remember, every one of them +is spying on the other to me. I'm not a Rip Van Winkle. Now, I want +you to keep this fellow Montague Shirley covered but don't put him away +until I give you the word. Send the bunch upstairs, for I don't want to +be disturbed the next two hours. And just keep off the coke yourself. +You're scratching your face a good deal these days--I know the signs." + +Phil expostulated nervously. "Oh, gov'nor, I ain't no fiend--just once +and a while I gets a little rummy, and brightens up. It takes too much +money to git it now, anyway. Goodbye, chief." + +As he closed the wooden door to pay the gangsters, there was a +slight grating noise, which followed a double click. A bar of wood +automatically slid down into position behind the door, blocking a +possible opening from the front of the cellar. The lights suddenly were +darkened. The sound of shuffling feet would have indicated to a listener +that the owner of the nervous hand was retreating to the rear of the +darkened den. A noise resembling that of the turn of a rusty hinge +might have then been heard: there was a metallic clang, the rattle of a +sliding chain and the rear room was as empty as it was black! + +In the front room, after payment from the red-headed ruffian, Phil, the +men clambered in single file up a wooden ladder to the street level. +A trap-door was put into place and closed. Then the men began to shoot +"craps" for a readjustment of the spoils, with the result that Red Phil, +as his henchmen called him, was the smiling possessor of most of the +money, without the erstwhile necessity of "holding out." + +Then the gangsters scattered to the nearby gin-shops to while away the +time before darkness should call for their evil activities. It was a +cheerful little assortment of desperadoes, yet in appearance they +did not differ from most of the habitues of New York garages, those +cesspools of urban criminality. + +From his club, Shirley telephoned Jim Merrivale in his downtown office, +purposely giving another name, as he addressed his friend--a pseudonym +upon which they had agreed during the night call. Shirley was suspicious +of all telephones, by this time, and his guarded inquiry gave no +possible clue to a wiretapping eavesdropper. + +"How is the new bull-dog?" was the question, after the first guarded +greeting. "Is he still muzzled?" + +"Yes, Mr. Smith," responded Merrivale, "and the meanest specimen I have +ever seen outside a Zoo! When I sent the groom out to feed him this +morning, he snarled and tried to claw him. He's on a hunger strike. I +looked up the license number on his collar but he's not registered in +this state." (This, Shirley knew, meant the automobile tag under the +machine which had been captured.) + +"When are you apt to send for him--I don't think I'll keep him any +longer than I can help." + +"I'll send out from the dog store, with a letter signed by me. Feed him +a little croton oil to cure his disposition. Good-bye, for now, Jim. +I'll write you, this day." + +Shirley hung up, and smiled with satisfaction at the news. The man would +be glad to get bread and water, before long, he felt assured. However, +he despatched a note to Cleary, of the Holland Agency, enclosing a +written order to Merrivale to deliver over the prisoner, for safer +keeping in the city. + +This disposed of the started out from the club house for his afternoon +of dissipation. As he left the doorway, he noticed the two men with the +black caps standing not far away. They were engrossed in the rolling of +cigarettes, but the swift glance which they shot at him did not escape +Monty. + +"Like the poor and the bill collectors, they are always with us," was +his thought, as he calmly strolled over to the Hotel California. He +determined to place them in a quiet, sheltered retreat at the earliest +opportunity. He found Helene more attractive than ever. + +"Shall I put on this wretched rouge again to-day," was the plaintive +question, after the first greeting. "I hate it so--and yet, will do +whatever you order." + +"Your role calls for it, my dear girl. Perhaps we may close the dramatic +engagement sooner than we expect. To-night should be an eventful one, +for I will accept every lead which Reginald Warren offers. I would like +to have a record of his voice, and that of some of his friends. There +is a difference between the telephone voice and that heard face to +face,--you would be a good witness if I could persuade him to sing or +speak for me into a record. You can straighten out the difficulties of +this case, if you will, in a thoroughly feminine manner." + +"And what, sir, is that, I pray you?" + +"Give him the opportunity--to fall in love with you." + +Helene's cheeks flushed a stronger carmine than the rouge which she was +administering, as she looked up in quick embarrassment. + +"I don't want him to love me. I want no man to love me," was the +petulant answer. + +"Doubtless you have reason to be satisfied as things are," replied +Shirley, puffing a cigarette, "but the softness of cerebral conditions +increases in direct ratio with the mushiness of the affections. If it +is important to us--and you are my partner in this fascinating business +venture--will you not sacrifice your emotions to that extent: merely +to let him lead himself on, as most men do?" He paused for a critical +observation of her, and then added: "You are even more beautiful to-day +than you were yesterday. He cannot help loving you if he is given the +chance!" + +Helene's white fingers crushed the orchid which she was pinning to the +bosom of her gown. Her intent gaze met the mask of Shirley's ingenuous +smile, reading in his telltale eyes a message which needed no court +interpreter! Quickly she turned to her mirror to put the finishing +touches to her coiffure, the golden curls so alluringly wilful. + +"Your flattery, sir, is very cruel. Beware! I may take it seriously. +What would happen if my verdant heart were to fall a victim to the +cunning wiles of the voice? Remember, I have only met two men, since I +came to America, yesterday. And they are both pronounced woman-haters. +I will take you at your word, about Mr. Reginald Warren, and loosen my +blandishments to the best of my rustic ability." + +A wayward twinkle in her eyes should have warned Shirley that she was +planning a little mischief. But, he was too preoccupied in finding the +real front of her baffling street cloak to observe it. They left for +the tearoom, while Helene still laughed to herself over certain subtle +possibilities which she saw in the situation. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. A PILGRIMAGE INTO FRIVOLITY + + +Rather early, again, for the usual throng, they were able to choose +their position to their liking: to-day, it was in the center of the big +room, close by the space cleared for the dancing. Gradually the tables +were occupied, apparently by the identical people of the afternoon +before, so marked is the peculiar character of the dance-mad +individuality. To-day he varied his menu with a mild order of +cocktails--for now he was not emulating the Epicurean record of the +bibulous Grimsby. They observed with amusement the weird contortions, +seldom graced by a vestige of rhythm or beauty, with which the intent +dancers spun and zigzagged. + +"Considering how much money they pay to learn these steps from +dancing-masters, there is unusually small value in the market, Miss +Marigold. I resigned myself to the approach of the sunset years, and +became a voluntary exile in the garden of the wallflowers, when society +dancing became mathematical." + +"I don't understand?" + +"Once it was possible to chat, to smile, to woo or to silently enjoy +the music and the measures of the dance in company with a sympathetic +partner. Now, however, since the triumph of the 'New Mode,' one must +count 'one-two-three,' and one's partner is more captious than a +schoolmarm! What puzzles me is the need for new steps, to be learned +from expensive teachers, when it's so easy to slide down hill in this +part of New York. But here endeth the sermon, for I recognize the +amiable Pinkie at that other table, where she is studying your face with +the malevolence of a cobra." + +Helene slowly turned her eyes toward the other girl, who now advanced +with forced effusiveness. + +"Oh, my dear, and you're back again today. But where is dear old +Grimmie; he is a nice old soul, though a trifle near-sighted. He wasn't +half seas over last night--he was a war-zone submarine, out for a +long-distance record!" + +She impudently seated herself at the table with them, sending a +questioning glance at the handsome companion of her quondam rival. +Helene instinctively drew back, but a warning glance from Shirley +plunged her into her assumed character, and she greeted the other girl +with the quasi-comradeship of their class. + +"Oh, yes, dear. Grimsby was a little poisoned by the salad or something +like that: he was actually disagreeable with me, of all people in the +world. But, I have so many friends that Grimsby does not give me any +worry. He means nothing in my life. You seemed quite worried over him, +though--" + +"Yes, girlie," was Pinkie's effort to parry. "I was upset--not because +he was with you, but to see the old chap showing his age. His taste has +deteriorated so much since he started wearing glasses. But why don't you +introduce me to your gentleman friend?" + +Helene's faint smile expressed volumes, as she turned toward the +modest Shirley with a bow of condescension. "This is Pinkie, one of old +Grimsby's sweethearts, Mr. Shirley. I'm sure you'll like her." + +"Are you Montague Shirley?" demanded the auburn-haired coquette with +sudden interest. As Shirley nodded, she caught his hand with an ardent +glance, ogling him impressively, as she continued: "I've heard a lot of +you. I'm just that pleased to meet you!" + +An indefinable resentment crept over Helene. How could this creature +of the demi-monde have even distant acquaintance of such a wholesome, +superior man as her escort? The effusiveness was irritating, and the +overacted kittenishness of the girl made her sick at heart, although +she betrayed no sign of her feeling. Helene could not understand that +despite its mammoth size, New York is relatively provincial in the +club and theatrical community, his acquaintanceship numbering into +the thousands. Town Topics, the social gossipers of the newspapers and +talkative club men bandied names about in such wise that it was easy +for members of Pinkie's profession to satisfy their hopeful +curiosity--prompted by visions of eventual social conquest on the one +hand and a professional desire to memorize street numbers on the Wealth +Highway for ultimate financial manipulations. As one of the richest +members of the exclusive bachelor set, Montague Shirley, even unknown to +himself, occupied reserved niches in the ambitions of a hundred and one +fair plotters! + +"You will honor us by taking a drink, Miss Pinkie?" was the +criminologist's courteous overture. + +"Pinkie Marlowe, if you want to know the rest of my name. Yes, I need a +little absinthe to wake me up, for I just finished breakfast. We had a +large party last night at Reg Warren's. Why don't you dance with me?" + +"The old adage about fat men never being loved applies especially to +those who brave the terrors of the fox-trot. I weigh two hundred, so I +wisely sit under the trees and laugh at the others." + +"You two hundred?" and admiration flashed from Pinkie's emotional eyes, +"I don't believe it. Why, you're just right! I could dance with a man +like you all night!" + +Helene's helplessness only fanned the flames of her inward fury at the +brazen intent of the girl. She forgot about Jack and even her plans +about Reginald Warren. But Shirley's purpose was now rewarded, for +Pinkie acted as the magnet to draw over several of the gilded youths +whom they had met the day before. More introductions followed, and +additional refreshments were soon gracing the table. Shine Taylor was +the next to join the party, and erelong the waited-for visitor was +approaching them. His eyes were upon Shirley from the instant that +he entered the room: he advanced directly toward their table with a +certainty which proved to Monty that method was in every move. + +"What a pleasant surprise, little Bonbon!" exclaimed this gentleman as +he drew up to their table. "I'm so glad. I was afraid you wouldn't get +home safely with Grimsby; he was so absolutely overcome last night. He +promised to bring you to my little entertainment but didn't show up. +What became of him?" + +"Join us in a drink and forget him," suggested Helene, as she took his +hand with an innocently stupid smile. "This is Mr. Shirley, Mr.--Mr.--I +had so much champagne last night I forgot your name." + +"Warren, that's simple enough. Glad to see you, Mr. Sherwood, oh, +Shirley! It seems as though I had heard your name--aren't you an actor, +or an artist? A musician, or something like that? My memory is so +miserable." + +"I'm just a 'something like that,' not even an actor," was the answer, +as the tiniest of nudges registered Helene's appreciation. "What is your +favorite poison?" + +Warren gave him a startled look, and then laughed: "Oh, you mean to +drink? Now you must join me for I am the intruder." He drew out a roll +of money; more nice, new hundred dollar bills. Shirley remembered that +old Van Cleft had drawn several thousand dollars from his office the +night of the murder. Even his trained stoicism rebelled at thought of +drinking a cocktail bought with this bloody currency! + +"You didn't tell me about Grimsby?" persisted Warren, turning to Helene, +with an admiring scrutiny of the girl's charms. "I'm rather interested." + +"You'll have to ask him, not me. After we took a taxi from the +Winter-Garden we had a ride in the Park. So stupid, I thought, at +this time of the year. When I woke up, Grimmie was helping me into the +entrance of the hotel. He was very cross with the chauffeur and with me, +too. Then he took the taxi and went home, still angry." + +"So!" after a moment's silence, Warren continued, a puzzled look on his +face. "What was the trouble? I don't see how any one could be cross with +a nice little girl like you. But to-night, I'm to have another little +party up at my house. Bring some one up, who won't be cross. You come, +Mr. Shirley?" + +Helene hesitated, but Monty acquiesced. + +"That would be splendid. What time?" + +"About eleven. I'll expect you--I must run along now, as I'm ordering +some fancy dishes." + +Shirley had paid his waiter, and he rose with Helene. + +"We must be leaving, too. I'll accept your invitation." + +"And I'll be there, too, Mr. Shirley," put in Pinkie Marlowe. "I'll +teach you some new steps. Reggie has a wonderful phonograph for dancing, +with all the new tunes. See you later, girlie." + +They were accompanied to the door by Shine and Warren. At the +check-room, Shirley was interested to note that Shine Taylor took out +his green velour hat. His feet were adorned with white spats. After the +door of their taxi had slammed he confided to Helene that he had located +the gentleman who had caused his wreck that morning. Still, however, the +clues were too weak for action. The car went first to the club, where +Shirley sent in for any possible letters or messages. The servant +brought out a note. It was another surprise. He gave an address to the +driver and as the car turned up Fifth Avenue, he studied this missive +with knit brows. + +"A new worry?" asked Helene. "May I help you?" + +He handed her the letter, and she noticed the nervous handwriting. It +was short. + +"Dear Mr. Shirley: Just received a threatening note demanding money. Can +you come up at once? Howard V. C." + +Shirley answered the question in the blue eyes, as she finished. + +"As I thought it would turn out. Baffled in their game of robbing old +men who have all left the city, they have begun to work the chance for +blackmail. I will advise Van Cleft to pay them, and then we will follow +the money. Here is the mansion and I will be out in five minutes." + +He soon disappeared behind the bronze door. True to his promise, in five +minutes he had returned. He looked up and down the Avenue amazed. Not a +trace of the taxicab, nor of Helene Marigold could be seen! + +Shirley's impulse was to pinch himself to awaken from the chimera. He +knew she was armed, and would use the weapon if only to call for help. +For the first time in his career the chill of terror crept into his +heart--not for himself, but an irresistible dread of some impending +danger for this unfathomable woman who had shared his dangers so +uncomplainingly during this last wonderful day. He racked his mind +vainly for some plausible reason. "She knows I need her. Yet at the +supreme moment of the game she disappears. Can she be like other women, +when she is most necessary?" + +And he walked slowly down the Avenue, disconcerted, endeavoring to solve +this sudden abortion of his best laid plans. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. CONCERNING HELENE'S FINESSE + + +Shirley endured a miserable three hours, in his attempts to locate the +girl. She had not returned to the Hotel California, and he returned to +the club in moody reflection. It was beginning to snow, and the ground +was soon covered with a thin coat of white, through which he noticed his +footprints stenciled against the black of the wet pavement. He wasted a +dozen matches in the freshening wind, as he tried to light a cigarette. +He stepped into a doorway on the Avenue to avail himself of its shelter. +As he turned out to the street again, he almost bumped into two men, +wearing black caps! One of them grunted a curt apology, as he stepped +on. + +"They are after me as usual," he thought. "Why not reverse operations +and find out where they belong?" + +It seemed hopeless: as in a checker game they had him at disadvantage +with the odd number of the "move." Theirs was the chance to observe, and +an open attempt to follow them would be ridiculous. Then, the footprints +gave him an idea. + +Dimly behind could be discerned the two men, as he quickened his pace, +turning into a side street, off Fifth Avenue. Here he knew that traffic +would be light, and his footprints the best evidence of his progress. +The men unwittingly caught his plan, and dropped almost out of sight. +At the intersection of Madison Avenue, they quickened their steps, and +caught up with him again. Across corners, down quiet streets, and by +purposed diagonals he led them: still they dogged his footprints. +So adroit were they that only one experienced in the art could have +realized their watchfulness. + +Shirley now turned a corner quickly, into an unusually deserted +thoroughfare, running with short steps, so as not to betray his speed +by the tracks. Before they had time to round the corner he ran up +the thinly blanketed steps of a private residence. Then he backed, as +swiftly down the stoop, and thus crablike, walked across the street, +down a dozen houses and backward still, up the steps of another private +dwelling. Inside the vestibule he hid himself. The entry had strong +wooden outside doors, and he tried the strength of the hinges: they +satisfied him. A dim light burned behind the glass of the inner portal. +He quietly clambered up the door, and balanced himself on the wood which +gallantly stood the strain. Fortunately it did not come within four feet +of the high ceiling of the old fashioned house. + +He suffered a good ten minutes' wait before his ruse was rewarded. Being +on the "fence" was a pastime compared to this precarious test of his +muscles. The two men who had followed the first footprints tired of +waiting before the house. One of them determined to investigate the +other steps, which led into the house of their vigilance, from the other +dwelling. And so he followed on, to the vestibule where he rang the +bell. Shirley could have touched his head, so near he was, but the +darkness of the upper space covered the retreat of the criminologist. + +"What do you want?" was the angry question of an indignant old caretaker +who answered the bell tardily. "You woke me up." + +"Say, lady, can I speak to Mr. Montague Shirley?" began the man, +gingerly. + +"You get away from this house, you loafer or I'll call the police. No +one by that name ain't here. Now, you get!" + +She slammed the door in his face. + +"I'll get Chuck to watch de udder joint," muttered the man, in a tone +audible to Shirley. "Den I'll go back and git orders from Phil." + +This habit of thinking aloud was expensive. Shirley stiffly but +noiselessly slid down the steps, as he disappeared in the thickening +snowfall. The criminologist slowly crossed the street, and sheltered +himself in a basement entrance, from which he reversed the shadowing +process. The twain hesitated before the first house, then one came up +the sidewalk, as the other stood his ground. This man passed within a +few feet of Shirley, who followed him over to Madison Avenue, then north +to Fifty-fifth Street. Here he turned west, and turned into one of the +old stables, formerly used by the gentry of the exclusive section for +their blooded steeds. Into one building, which announced its identity as +"Garage" with its glittering electric sign, the man disappeared. + +Shirley paused, looked about him, and chuckled. For he knew that through +the block on Fifty-sixth Street was the tall apartment building, known +as the Somerset--the address given him by Reginald Warren. + +"If I only had some word from Helene Marigold I could go ahead before +they realized my knowledge." + +Even as this thought crossed his mind, he turned back into Sixth Avenue. +A hatless, breathless young person, running down the snowy street +collided with him. As he began to apologize, he awoke to the startling +fact that it was his assistant. + +"Great Scott! What are you doing here? Where have you been all this +time?" + +The girl caught his arm unsteadily, but there was a triumph in her +voice, as she cried: "Oh, this wonderful chance meeting. I was running +down to my hotel but you have saved the day. I will tell you later. +Quick, take this book." + +She drew forth a volume, flexibly bound, like a small loose-leaf ledger. +Shirley stuck it into his overcoat pocket, which he was already slipping +about the girl's shivering shoulders. + +"Take me back at once, for there is more for me to do." + +"Where, my dear girl? You are indeed the lady of mysteries." + +"To the basement of Warren's apartment house. I came down the +dumb-waiter, when they left me. I left the little door ajar--Can you +pull me up again? He is on the eighth floor. It is a long pull--Oh, if +we can only make it before they return." + +Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of the mad game, as she ran once more, +Shirley keeping pace with her. The flurries of the snowstorm protected +them from too-curious observation, as the streets seemed deserted +by pedestrians who feared the growing blizzard. She led him to the +tradesman's entrance of the Somerset, into the dark corridor through +which she had emerged. + +"Don't strike a light, for I can feel the way. We mustn't be seen." + +Shirley obeyed,--at last she found the base of the dumbwaiter shaft. + +"How did you have the strength to lower yourself down this shaft--it is +no small task?" and his tone was admiring. + +"I am not a weakling--tennis, boating, swimming were all in my +education; they helped. But it is beyond me to pull all those floors, +and lift my weight. Pull up as far as the little elevator car goes, then +go away and come to his party to look for me. Do not be surprised at my +actions. My role has really developed into that of an emotional heavy." + +She patted his hand with a relaxation of tenderness, as he began to draw +on the long rope. The girl was by no means a light weight, but at last +the dumb-waiter came to a stop. Shirley heard the opening and closing of +a door above. Then, still wondering at it all, he returned to the street +as unobserved as they had entered. There was at least an hour to wait. +He walked over to the Athletic Club, of which he was a remiss member, +attending seldom during the recent months when his exercise had been +more tragic than gymnastic work. In the library of the club house he sat +down to study the volume which Helene had thrust into his hands at their +startling meeting. + +He gave a low whistle of surprise. + +"Some little book!" he muttered, "and Helene Marigold has shown me that +I must fight hard to equal her in the race for laurels!" + +Then he proceeded to rack his brains with a new and knottier problem +than any which he had yet encountered. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. THE STRANGE AND SURPRISING WARREN + + +The volume was a loose-leaf diary, with each page dated, and of letter +size. It covered more than the current year, however, running back for +nearly eighteen months. It was as scrupulously edited as a lawyer's +engagement book, and curiously enough it was entirely written in +typewriting! + +Most surprising of all, however, was the curious code in which the +entire matter was transcribed,--the most unusual one which Shirley had +ever read. + +Here was the first page to which he opened, letter for letter and symbol +for symbol: + +"THURSDAY: JANUARY SEVENTH, 1915. +;rstmrfagtp,ansmlafrav;rudyrtaftreadocayjpi +dsmfaoma,ptmomha,pmlassdohmrfaypayscoae +ptlagptayrsadjomrasddohmrfagocahrmrsypta +,sthoragsotgscafsyraeoyjafrav;rudyrtasyagobra +djomrasmfalprajse;ruavobrtomhas,rakslras +smffanrmasddohmrfan;svlavstagpta,raqsofaqj +o;apmrajimftrfavpbrtomhadqrvos; aeptlakpn +agomodjrfatobrtdofraftobrasyarohjyoayjotfad ocadjstqafrqpdoyr +famohjyasmfaffuagpitayjpi dsmfadsgrafrqpdoyagogyrrmajimftrfa; +rmyaf p;;ua,stopmayepajimfrtgptaftrddagptaqstyua +eoyjabsmv;rgyamrcyasgyrtmppmasfbsmvrfad jomrapmrayjpidsm +daypavpbrtapqyopmapga usvjyadimnrs, aqsofaypantplrtayjsyamohjyapt +frfaqtpbodop,dayr;rqjpmragptausvjyayepa,p myjabtiodra, +pmlasddohmrdagptkpnamrcyafs uasfbs mvrfadjomragojimftrfapmasvvpimyae +ptlapmaer;;omhypmadrtts;a,syyrtatrqsitdan; svla,svjomra" + +and so it ran on, baffling and inspiring a headache! + +Shirley went over and over the lines of this bewildering phalanx of +letters with no reward for his absorbed devotion to the puzzle. + +"Let me see," he mused. "Thursday, January seventh, was the date upon +which Washington Serral was murdered, according to Doctor MacDonald. Any +man who will maintain a record of the days in such a difficult code as +this must not only be extremely methodical, but is certain to have much +to put upon that record worth the trouble. Here may lay the secret of +the entire case." + +At the end of the hour he had allowed himself, there was no more +proximity to solution than at the inception of his effort. It was +almost half-past eleven, and he knew that it was time to go to Warren's +apartment. He sent a messenger with the book, carefully wrapped up, to +his rooms at the club on Forty-fourth Street. It was too interesting +a document to risk taking up to that apartment again, after Helene's +exertions in obtaining it. + +The Somerset was not dissimilar from the hundreds of highly embellished +dwellings of the sort which abound in the region of the Park, causing +out-of-town visitors to marvel justly at the source of the vast sums of +money with which to pay the enormous rentals of them all. + +The elevator operator smirked knowingly, when he asked for Warren's +apartment. "You-all can go right up, boss. He's holdin' forth for +another of dem high sassiety shindigs to-night. Dat gemman alluz has too +many callin' to bother with the telephone when he has a party. You don't +need no announcin'." + +The man directed him to the door on the left. Closed as it was the +sounds of merrymaking emanated into the corridor. Shirley's pressure +on the bell was answered by Shine Taylor's startled face. Warren stood +behind him. The surprise of the pair amused Shirley, but their composure +bespoke trained self-control. + +"I'm sorry to be late," was the criminologist's greeting. "But I came +up to apologize for not being able to bring Miss Marigold. We missed +connections somewhere, and I couldn't find her." + +"I am so pleased to have you with us anyway. We'll try to get along +without her--" but Warren was interrupted to his discomfiture. + +A silvery laugh came from the hallway behind him. Helene Marigold waved +a champagne glass at Shirley. + +"There's my tardy escort now. I'm here, Shirley old top! Te, he! You see +I played a little joke on you this afternoon and eloped with a handsomer +man than you." She leaned unsteadily against the door post and waved +a white hand at him as she coaxed. "Come on in, old dear, and don't be +cross now with your little Bonbon Tootems!" + +Taylor and Warren exchanged glances, for this was an unexpected sally. +But they were prompt in their effusive cordiality, as they assisted +Shirley in removing his overcoat, and hanging his hat with those of the +other guests. He placed his cane against the hall tree, and followed his +host into the jollified apartment. He did not overlook the swift glide +of Shine's hand into each of his overcoat pockets in the brief interval. +Here was a skilful "dip"--Shirley, however, had taken care that the +pickpocket would find nothing to worry him in the overcoat. + +Warren's establishment was a gorgeous one. To Shirley it was hard to +harmonize the character of the man as he had already deduced it with +the evident passion for the beautiful. That such a connoisseur of art +objects could harbor in so broad and cultured a mind the machinations +of such infamy seemed almost incredible. The riddle was not new with +Reginald Warren's case: for morals and "culture" have shown their +sociological, economic and even diplomatic independence of each other +from the time when the memory of man runneth not! + +Shirley's admiration was shrewdly sensed by his host. So after a tactful +introduction to the self-absorbed merrymakers, now in all stages of +stimulated exuberance, he conducted his guest on a tour of inspection +about his rooms. + +"So, you like etchings? I want you to see my five Whistlers. Here is my +Fritz Thaulow, and there is my Corot. This crayon by Von Lenbach is a +favorite of mine." His black eyes sparkled with pride as he pointed +out one gem after another in this veritable storehouse of artistic +surprises. Few of the jolly throng gave evidence of appreciating them: +the man was curiously superior to his associations in education as well +as the patent evidence which Shirley now observed of being to the manor +born. Helene Marigold, ensconced in a big library chair, her feet curled +under her, pink fingers supporting the oval chin, dreamily watched +Shirley's absorption. She seemed almost asleep, but her mind drank in +each mood that fired the criminologist's face, as he thoroughly relaxed +from his usual bland superiority of mien, to revel in the treasures. + +Ivory masterpieces, Hindu carvings, bronzes, landscapes, rare wood-cuts, +water colors--such a harmonious variety he had seldom seen in any +private collection. The library was another thesaurus: rich bindings +encased volumes worthy of their garb. The books, furthermore, showed the +mellowing evidence of frequent use; here was no patron of the instalment +editions-de-luxe! + +"You like my things," and Warren's voice purred almost happily. There +was a softening change in his attitude, which Shirley understood. The +appreciation of a fellow worshiper warmed his heart. "My books--all +bound privately, you know, for I hate shop bindings. Most of them from +second-hand stalls, redolent with the personalities of half a hundred +readers. Books are so much more worth reading when they have been read +and read again. Don't you think so?" + +"Yes. I see your tastes run to the modern school. Individualism, +even morbidity: Spencer, Nietsche, Schopenhauer, Tolstoi, Kropotkin, +Gorky--They express your thoughts collectively?" + +"Yes, but not radically enough. My entire intellectual life has driven +me forward--I am a disciple of the absolute freedom, the divinity of +self, and--but there I invited you to a joy party, not a university +seminar." + +"But the party will grow riper with age," and Shirley was prone to +continue the autopsy. "You are a university man. Where did you study?" + +"Sipping here and there," and a forgivable vanity lightened Warren's +face. "Gottingen, Warsaw, Jena, Oxford, Milan, The Sorbonne and even at +Heidelberg, the jolly old place. You see my scar?" He pulled back a lock +of his wavy black hair from the left temple to show a cut from a student +duelist's sword. "But you Americans--I mean, we Americans--we have such +opportunities to pick up the best things from the rest of the world." + +"No, Warren," and Shirley shook his head, not overlooking the slight +break which indicated that his host was a foreigner, despite the quick +change. "I have been to busy wasting time to collect anything but +fleeting memories. Too much polo, swimming, yachting, golfing--I have +fallen into evil ways. I think your example may reform me. You must dine +with me at my club some day, and give me some hints about making such +wonderful purchases." + +"I know the most wonderful antique shop," Warren began, and just then +was interrupted by Shine Taylor and a dizzy blonde person with whom he +maxixed through the Hindu draperies, each deftly balancing a champagne +glass. + +"Here, Reg, you neglect your other guests. Come on in!" Shine's +companion held out a wine glass to Warren, but her eyes were fixed in a +fascinated stare upon Montague Shirley. + +"Why, what are you doing here?" + +It was little Dolly Marion, Van Cleft's companion on the fatal +automobile ride. She trembled: the glass fell to the floor with a tinkly +crash. Shirley smiled indulgently. Taylor and Warren exchanged looks, +but Monty knew that they must by this time be aware of his command to +the girl to abstain from gay associations. + +"You couldn't resist the call of the wild, could you, Miss Dolly?" + +The girl sheepishly giggled, and danced out of the room, to sink into a +chair, wondering what this visitation meant. Another masculine butterfly +pressed more champagne upon her, and in a few moments she had forgotten +to worry about anything more important than the laws of gravity. Warren +had been rudely dragged away from his intellectual kinship with his +guest. His manner changed, almost indefinably, but Shirley understood. +He looked at Helene, a little bundle of sleepy sweetness in the big +chair. + +"Well, Miss! Where did you go when I left you on my call of condolence +to Howard Van Cleft? He leaves town to-night for a trip on his yacht, +and it was my last chance to say good-bye." + +"Where is he going?" was Warren's lapsus linguae, at this bit of news. + +"Down to the Gulf, I believe. Do you know him, Warren? Nice chap. Too +bad about his father's sudden death from heart failure, wasn't it? He +told me they were putting in supplies for a two months' cruise and would +not be able to sail before three in the morning." + +"I don't know Van Cleft," was Warren's guarded reply. "Of course, I read +of his sad loss. But he is so rich now that he can wipe out his grief +with a change of scene and part of the inheritance. It's being done in +society, these days." + +"Poor Van Cleft! He's besieged by blackmailers, who threaten to lay +bare his father's extravagant innuendos, unless he pays fifty thousand +dollars. He can afford it, but as he says, it's war times and money +is scarce as brunette chorus girls. He has put the matter before the +District Attorney and is going to sail for Far Cathay until they round +up the gang. These criminals are so clumsy nowadays, I imagine it will +be an easy task, don't you, Warren?" + +The other man's eyes narrowed to black slits as he studied the childlike +expression of Shirley's face. He wondered if there could be a covert +threat in this innocent confidence. He answered laconically: "Oh, I +suppose so. We read about crooks in the magazines and then see their +capers in the motion picture thrillers, but down in real life, we find +them a sordid, unimaginative lot of rogues." + +He proffered Shirley a cigarette from his jeweled case. As he leaned +toward the table to draw a match from the small bronze holder, Helene +observed Shirley deftly substitute it for one of his own, secreting the +first. + +"Yes," continued Shirley, "the criminal who is caught generally loses +his game because he is mechanical and ungifted with talent. But think of +the criminals who have yet to be captured--the brilliant, the inspired +ones, the chess-players of wickedness who love their game and play it +with the finesse of experts." + +Shirley smoothed away the ripple of suspicion which he had mischievously +aroused with, "So, that is why fellows like us would not bother with the +life. The same physical and intellectual effort expended by a criminal +genius would bring him money and power with no clutching legal hand to +fear. But there, we're getting morbid. What I really want to do is to +satisfy my vanity. Where did Miss Marigold disappear?" + +"Talking about me?" and Helene opened her eyes languorously. "I was so +tired waiting for you that when Mr. Warren came along in his wonderful +new car I yielded to his invitation, so we enjoyed that tea-room trip +which you had promised. Such a lark! Then we came up here where I had +the most wonderful dinner with him and three girls. I was tired and +sleepy, so I dozed away on that library davenport until the party +began--and there you are and here I are, and so, forgive me, Monty?" + +She slipped nimbly to the floor, with a maddening display of a silken +ankle, advancing to the criminologist with a wistful playfulness which +brought a flush of sudden feeling, to the face of Reginald Warren. +Helene was carrying out his directions to the letter, Shirley observed. + +They lingered at Warren's festivities until a wee sma' hour, Helene +pretending to share the conviviality, while actually maintaining a +hawk-like watch upon the two conspirators as she now felt them to be. +She was amused by the frequency with which Shine Taylor and Reginald +Warren plied their guest with cigarettes: Shirley's legerdemain in +substituting them was worthy of the vaudeville stage. + +"The wine and my smoking have made me drowsy," he told her, with no +effort at concealment. "We must get home or I'll fall asleep myself." + +A covert smile flitted across Warren's pale face, as Shirley +unconventionally indulged in several semi-polite yawns, nodding a bit, +as well. Helene accepted glass after glass of wine, thoughtfully poured +out by her host. And as thoughtfully, did she pour it into the flower +vases when his back was turned: she matched the other girls' acute +transports of vinous joy without an error. Shirley walked to the +window, asking if he might open it for a little fresh air. Warren nodded +smiling. + +"You are well on the way to heaven in this altitude of eight stories," +volunteered Shirley, with a sleepy laugh. + +"Yes. The eighth and top floor. A burglar could make a good haul of my +collection, except that I have the window to the fire escape barred from +the inside, around the corner facing to the north. Here, I am safe from +molestation." + +"A great view of the Park--what a fine library for real reading; and +I see you have a typewriter--the same make I used to thump, when I +did newspaper work--a Remwood. Let me see some of your literary work, +sometime--" + +Warren waved a deprecating hand. "Very little--editors do not like it. I +do better with an adding machine down on Wall Street than a typewriter. +But let us join the others." There was a noticeable reluctance +about dwelling upon the typewriter subject. Warren hurried into the +drawing-room, as Shirley followed with a perceptible stagger. + +Shine Taylor scrutinized his condition, as he asked for another +cigarette. As he yielded to an apparent craving for sleep, the others +danced and chatted, while Taylor disappeared through the hall door. +After a few minutes he returned to grimace slightly at Warren. Shirley +roused himself from his stupor. + +"Bonbon, let us be going. Good-night, everybody." + +He walked unsteadily to the door, amid a chorus of noisy farewells, +with Helene unsteady and hilarious behind him. Warren and Shine seemed +satisfied with their hospitable endeavors, as they bade good-night. +The elevator brought up two belated guests, the roseate Pinkie and a +colorless youth. + +"Oh, are you going, Mr. Shirley? What a blooming shame. I just left the +most wonderful supper-party at the Claridge to see you." + +"Too bad: I hope for better luck next time." + +"The elevator is waiting," and Helene's gaze was scornful. Shirley +restrained his smile at the girl's covert hatred of the redhaired +charmer. Then he asked maliciously: "Isn't she interesting? Too bad she +associates with her inferiors." + +"You put it mildly." + +"Here, boy, call a taxicab," he ordered the attendant, as they reached +the lower level. + +"Sorry, boss, but I dassent leave the elevator at this time of night. +I'm the only one in the place jest now." + +Shirley insisted, with a duty soother of silver, but the negro returned +in a few minutes, shaking his head. Shirley ordered him to telephone the +nearest hacking-stand. Then followed another delay, without result. + +"Come, Miss Helene, there is method in this. Let us walk, as it seems to +have been planned we should." + +"Is it wise? Why put yourself in their net?" + +For reply, he placed in her hand the walking stick which he had so +carefully guarded when they entered the apartment. It was heavier than a +policeman's nightstick. As he retook it, she observed the straightening +line of his lips. + +"As the French say, 'We shall see what we shall see.' Please walk a +little behind me, so that my right arm may be free." + +It was after two, and the street was dark. Shirley had noted an +arc-light on the corner when he had entered the building--now it was +extinguished. A man lurched forward as they turned into Sixth Avenue, +his eyes covered by a dark cap. + +"Say gent! Give a guy that's down an' out the price of a beef stew? I +got three pennies an' two more'll fix me." + +"No!" + +"Aw, gent, have a heart!" The man was persistent, drawing closer, as +Shirley walked an with his companion, into the increasing darkness, away +from the corner. Another figure appeared from a dark doorway. + +"I'm broke too, Mister. Kin yer help a poor war refugee on a night like +this?" + +Shirley slipped his left hand inside his coat pocket and drew out a +handkerchief to the surprise of the men. He suddenly drew Helene back +against the wall, and stood between her and the two men. + +"What do you thugs want?" snapped the criminologist, as he clenched the +cane tightly and held the handkerchief in his left hand. There was no +reply. The men realized that he knew their purpose--one dropped to a +knee position as the other sprang forward. The famous football toe shot +forward with more at stake than ever in the days when the grandstands +screeched for a field goal. At the same instant he swung the loaded cane +upon the shoulders of the upright man, missing his head. + +The second man swung a blackjack. + +The first, with a bleeding face staggered to his feet. + +The handkerchief went up to the mouth of the active assailant, and to +Helene's astonishment, he sank back with a moan. Shirley pounced upon +his mate, and after a slight tussle, applied the handkerchief with the +same benumbing effect. Then he rolled it up and tossed it far from him. + +He took a police whistle from his pocket and blew it three times. His +assailants lay quietly on the ground, so that when the officer arrived +he found an immaculately garbed gentleman dusting off his coat shoulder, +and looking at his watch. + +"What is it, sir?" he cried. + +"A couple of drunks attacked me, after I wouldn't give them a handout. +Then they passed away. You won't need my complaint--look at them--" + +The policeman shook the men, but they seemed helpless except to groan +and hold their heads in mute agony, dull and apparently unaware of what +was going on about them. + +"Well, if you don't want to press the charge of assault?" + +"No. I may have it looked up by my attorney. Tonight I do not care to +take my wife to the stationhouse with me. They ought to get thirty days, +at that." + +Shirley took Helene's arm, and the officer nodded. + +"I'll send for the wagon, sir. They're some pickled. Good-night." + +As they walked up to the nearest car crossing, Helene turned to him with +her surprise unabated. + +"What did you do to them, Mr. Shirley?" + +"Merely crushed a small vial of Amyl nitrite which I thoughtfully put +in my handkerchief this afternoon. It is a chemical whose fumes are used +for restoring people afflicted with heart failure: with men like these, +and the amount of the liquid which I gave them for perfume, the result +was the same as complete unconsciousness from drunkenness.--Science is a +glorious thing, Miss Helene." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH SHIRLEY SURPRISES HIMSELF + + +They reached the hotel without untoward adventure. + +"Perhaps we might find a little corner in that dining-room I saw this +afternoon, with an obliging waiter to bring us something to eat. Shall +we try? I need a lot of coffee, for I am going down to the dock of the +Yacht Club to await developments." + +"You big silly boy," she cautioned, with a maternal note in her voice +which was very sweet to bachelor ears from such a maiden mouth, "you +must not let Nature snap. You have a wonderful physique but you must go +home to bed." + +"It can't be done--I want to hear about your little visit to the +apartment, and the story of the diary. I'll ask the clerk." + +A bill glided across the register of the hotel desk, and the greeter +promised to attend to the club sandwiches himself. He led them to a +cosey table, in the deserted room, and started out to send the bell-boy +to a nearby lunchroom. + +"Just a minute please,--if any one calls up Miss Marigold, don't let +them know she has returned. I have something important to say, without +interruption: you understand?" + +"Yes, I get you, sir," and the droll part was that with a familiarity +generated of the hotel arts he did understand even better than Shirley +or Helene. He had seen many other young millionaires and golden-haired +actresses. Shirley looked across the table into the astral blue of +those gorgeous eyes. Certain unbidden, foolish words strove to liberate +themselves from his stubborn lips. + +"I am a consummate idiot!" was all that escaped, and Helene looked her +surprise. + +"Why, have you made a mistake?" + +"I hope not. But tell me of Warren's mistake." + +She had been waiting what seemed an eternity before Van Cleft's house, +when a big machine drew up alongside. Warren greeted her with a smiling +invitation to leave Shirley guessing. Her willingness to go, she felt, +would disarm his suspicions. The little dinner in the apartment with +Shine, Warren and three girls had been in good taste enough: pretending, +however, to be overcome with weariness she persuaded them to let her +cuddle up on the couch, where she feigned sleep. Warren had tossed an +overcoat over her and left the apartment with the others, promising to +return in a few minutes. He had said to Shine, "She'll be quiet until +we return--it may be a good alibi to have her here." Then he had +disappeared, wearing only a soft hat, with no other overcoat. Listening +at the closed hall door, she heard him direct the elevator man, "Second +off, Joe." The door was locked from the outside. The servant's entrance +was locked, all the bedrooms locked, every one with a Yale lock above +the ordinary keyhole. The Chinese cook had been sent out sometime before +to buy groceries and wine for the later party. + +"But where did you find the note-book? It may send him to the electric +chair." Monty Shirley was lighting one of the cigarettes handed him by +his host. He sniffed at it and crushed out the embers at the end. "This +cigarette would have sent me to dreamland for a day at least--Warren +understands as much chemistry as I do." + +"At first I studied the books in the library out of curiosity and then +noticed that three books were shoved in, out of alignment with the +others on the shelf. With a manservant in the house, instead of a woman, +of course things needed dusting. But where these three books were it +had been rubbed off! I took out the books, reached behind and found the +little leather volume. It was simple. I went to his typewriter when I +saw that the pages were all typed, and took out some note-paper, from +the bronze rack." + +"And then, Miss Sleuth?" + +"Don't laugh at me. I had heard of the legal phrase 'corroborative +evidence,' so knowing that it would be necessary to connect that +typewriter with the book, I rattled off a few lines on the machine. Here +it is: it will show the individuality of the machine to an expert." + +"You wonderful girl!" he murmured simply. She protested, "Don't tease +me. I have watched you and am learning some of your simple but complete +methods of working. I understand you better than you think." + +"Go on with your story," and Shirley was uncomfortable, although he knew +not why. + +"That is the end of my tale of woe. The kitchen being open, I took +advantage of the dumb-waiter, as you already know. It's fortunate that +waiter is dumb, for it must have many lurid confessions to make. I never +saw such an interminable shaft; it seemed higher than the Eiffel Tower. +See how I blistered my hands on the rope, letting myself down." + +She opened her palms, showing the red souvenirs of the coarse strands. +Almost unconsciously she placed her soft fingers within Shirley's for a +brief instant. She quickly drew them away, sensing a blush beneath +the cosmetics, glad that he could not detect it. That gentle contact +thrilled Shirley again, even as the dear memory of the tired cheek +against his shoulder, during the automobile trip of the previous night. + +"After finding you so accidentally and returning with your aid, on the +little elevator, I threw myself back into the original pose on the +big couch. It was just in time, for Warren returned. His cook came in +shortly afterward. I imagine that he allows no one in that apartment, +ordinarily, when he is not there himself. But what, sir, do you think I +discovered upon the shoulder of his coat?" + +Shirley shook his head. "A beautiful crimson hair," he asked gravely, +"from the sun-kissed forehead of the delectable Pinkie? Or was it white, +from the tail of the snowy charger which tradition informs us always +lurks in the vicinity of auburn-haired enchantresses?" + +"Nothing so romantic. Just cobwebs! He saw me looking at them, and +brushed them off very quickly." + +"The man thinks he is a wine bottle of rare vintage!" observed Shirley. +But the jest was only in his words. He looked at her seriously and +then rapt in thought, closed his eyes the better to aid his mental +calculation. "He got off at the second floor--He wore no overcoat--A +black silk handkerchief--cobwebs--and that garage on the other street, +through the block! Miss Helene, you are a splendid ally!" + +"Won't you tell me what you mean about the garage? Who were those men +who attacked you? What happened since I deserted you?" + +But Shirley provokingly shook his head, as he drew out his watch. + +"It is half-past two. I must hurry down to East Twenty-fifth Street and +the East River, at the yacht club mooring, before three. Tomorrow I will +give you my version in some quiet restaurant, far from the gadding crowd +of the White Light district." + +He rose, drawing back his chair; they walked to the elevator together. +The clerk beckoned politely. + +"A gent named Mr. Warren telephoned to ask if you were home yet, Miss +Marigold. I told him not yet. Was that wrong?" + +"It was very kind of you. Thank you so much," and Helene's smile was +the cause of an uneasy flutter in the breast of the blase clerk. +"Good-night." + +"That's a lucky guy, at that, Jimmie," confided the clerk to the +bell-boy. "She is some beauty show, ain't she? And she's on the right +track, too." + +"Yep, but she's too polite to be a great actress or a star. Her +temper'ment ain't mean enough!" responded this Solomon in brass buttons. +"I hopes we gits invited to the wedding!" + +Outside, Shirley enjoyed the stimulus of the bracing early morning air. +A new inspiration seemed to fire him, altogether dissimilar to the glow +which he was wont to feel when plunging into a dangerous phase of a +professional case. He slowly drew from his pocket the typed note-paper +which had nestled in such enviable intimacy with that courageous heart. +The faint fragrance of her exquisite flesh clung to it still. He held +it to his lips and kissed it. Then he stopped, to turn about and look +upward at the tall hostelry behind him. High up below the renaissance +cornice he beheld the lights glow forth in the rooms which he knew were +Helene's. + +As he hurried to the club, he muttered angrily to himself: "I have made +one discovery, at least, in this unusual exploit. I find that I have +lost what common sense I possessed when I became a Freshman at college!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE RISING TIDE + + +A hurried message to the Holland Agency brought four plain clothes men +from the private reserve, under the leadership of superintendent Cleary. +Monty met them at the doorway of the club house, wearing a rough and +tumble suit. + +They sped downtown, toward the East River, the criminologist on the +seat where he could direct the driver. At Twenty-sixth Street, near +the docks, they dismounted and Shirley gave his directions to the +detectives. + +"I want you to slide along these doorways, working yourselves separately +down the water front until you are opposite the yacht club landing. I +will work on an independent line. You must get busy when I shoot, yell +or whistle,--I can't tell which. As the popular song goes, 'You're here +and I'm here, so what do we care?' This is a chance for the Holland +Agency to get a great story in the papers for saving young Van Cleft +from the kidnappers." + +He left them at the corner, and crossing to the other pavement, began +to stagger aimlessly down the street, looking for all the world like a +longshoreman returning home from a bacchanalian celebration from +some nearby Snug Harbor. It was a familiar type of pedestrian in this +neighborhood at this time of the morning. + +"That guy's a cool one, Mike," said Cleary to one of his men. "These +college ginks ain't so bad at that when you get to know 'em with their +dress-suits off." + +"He's a reg'lar feller, that's all," was Mike's philosophical response. +"Edjication couldn't kill it in 'im." + +A hundred yards offshore was the beautiful steam yacht of the Van +Clefts', the "White Swan." Lights on the deck and a few glowing +portholes showed unusual activity aboard. Shirley's hint to Warren about +the contemplated trip to southern climes was the exact truth. Naked +truth, he had found, was ofttimes a more valuable artifice than +Munchausen artistry of the most consummate craft! The longshoreman, +apparently befuddled in his bearings, wandered toward the dock, which +protruded into the river, a part of the club property. He staggered, +tumbled and lay prostrate on the snowy planks. + +Then he crawled awkwardly toward one of the big spiles at the side of +the structure, where he passed into a profound slumber. This, too, was +a conventional procedure for the neighborhood! A man walked across the +street, from the darkness of a deserted hallway: he gave the somnolent +one a kick. The longshoreman grunted, rolled over, and continued to +snore obliviously. + +An automobile honk-honked up Twenty-third Street, and then swung around +in a swift curve toward the dock. The investigating kicker slunk away, +down the street. The limousine drew up at the entrance to the tender +gangway. Accompanied by a portly servant, a young man in a fur coat, +stepped from the machine. + +"Give them another call with your horn, Sam," he directed. "The boat +will be in for me, then." + +This was done. A scraping noise came from the hanging stairway of the +dock, and a voice called up from the darkness: "Here we are, sir!" +Howard Van Cleft leaned over the edge and looked down, somewhat +nervously. A reassuring word came up from the boat, rocking against the +spiles. + +"You was a bit late, sir. You said three, Mr. Van Cleft, and now it's +ten after. So the captain sent us in to wait for you. Everything's +shipshape, sir, steam up, and all the supplies aboard. Climb right down +the ladder, sir. Steady now, lads!" + +This seemed to presage good. Van Cleft turned to his butler. + +"Take down the luggage, Edward. Goodbye, Sam. Keep an eye on the +machines. The folks will attend to everything for you while I am away. +Good-bye." + +The butler had delivered the baggage and now returned up the ladder, +puffing with his exertions. + +"Good-bye, sir," and his voice was more emotional than usual. "Watch +yourself, sir, if you please, sir. You're the last Van Cleft, and +we need you, sir." The old man touched his hat, and climbed into the +automobile, as Van Cleft climbed down the ladder. The machine sped away +under the skilful guidance of Sam. + +"Steady, sir, steady--There, we have you now, sir,--Quick, men! Up the +river with the tide. Row like hell!--Keep your oars muffled--here comes +the other boat." + +All this seemed naturally the accompaniment of the embarkment of Van +Cleft's yachting cruise, but the sleeping longshoreman suddenly arose to +his feet and blew a shrill police whistle. Next instant the flash of +his pocket-lamp illumined the dark boat below him. A volley of curses +greeted this untoward action! A revolver barked from the hand of a big +man in the stern. Young Van Cleft lay face downward in the boat, neatly +gagged and bound. As the light still flickered over the surprised +oarsmen, an answering shot evidenced better aim. The man in the back of +the bobbing vessel groaned as he fell forward upon the prostrate body of +the pinioned millionaire. One oarsman disappeared over the side of the +boat, to glide into the unfathomable darkness, with skilful strokes. + +"Hold still! I'll kill the first man who makes a move!" + +As Shirley's voice rang out, Cleary with his assistants was dashing +across the open space to the end of the dock. + +"Shove out that boat-hook and hold onto the dock!" was the additional +order, accompanied by a punctuation mark in the form of another bullet +which splintered the gunwale of the boat. Looking as they were, into the +dazzling eye of the bulb light, the men were uncertain of the number of +their assailants: surrender was natural. Cleary's men made quick work +of them. The boat from the yacht now hove to by this time, filled with +excited and profane sailormen. The skipper of the "White Swan," revolver +drawn, stood in its bow as it bumped against the stairway. Howard Van +Cleft was unbound: dazed but happy he tried to talk. + +"What--why--who?" he mumbled. + +"Pat Cleary, from the Holland Detective Agency," was Shirley's response. +"There, handcuff these men quick. Two cops are coming. We want the +credit of this job before the rookies beat us to it." + +Van Cleft recognized the speaker, and caught his hand fervently. +Shirley, though, was too busy for gratitude. He gave another quick +direction. + +"Hurry on board your yacht tender and get underway. Your life isn't +worth a penny if you stay in town another hour. These men will be +attended to. Good luck and goodbye." + +The young man rapidly transferred his luggage to his own boat. They +were soon out of view on their way to the larger vessel. Shirley turned +toward Cleary. + +"I'll file the charge against these two men. They tried to rob me and +make their getaway in this boat. You were down here as a bodyguard for +Van Cleft, who, of course, knew nothing about the matter as he left for +his cruise. So his name can be kept out of it entirely. And the fact +that you helped to save him from paying fifty thousand dollars in +blackmail, will not injure the size of Captain Cronin's bill. Get me?" + +"It's got!" laughed Cleary. + +Two patrolmen were dumfounded when they reached the spot to find four +men in handcuffs in charge of six armed guardians. The superintendent +explained the situation as laid out by Shirley. The cavalcade took its +way to the East Twenty-first Street Police Station, where the complaint +was filed. Sullen and perplexed about their failure, the men were all +locked in their cells, after their leader had his shoulder dressed by an +interne summoned from the nearby Bellevue Hospital. + +Shirley and Cleary returned with the others to the waiting automobile, +after these formalities. The prisoners had been given the customary +opportunity to telephone to friends, but strangely enough did not avail +themselves of it. + +"We're cutting down the ranks of the enemy, Cleary," observed the +detective as he lit a cigarette. "But I wonder who it was that escaped +in the water?" + +"He'll be next in the net. But say, Mr. Shirley, what percentage do you +get for all this work, I'm awondering?" was the answering query. The +criminologist laughed. + +"Thanks, my dear man, simply thanks. That's a rare thing for a +well-to-do man to get since the I.W.W. proved to the world that it's a +crime for a man to own more than ten dollars, or even to earn it! But +I wish you would drop me off about half a block from the Somerset +Apartments, on Fifty-sixth Street. I want to watch for a late arrival." + +He waited in the shadows of the houses on the opposite side of the +street. After half an hour he was rewarded by the sight of Mr. Shine +Taylor dismounting from a taxicab. The young gentleman wore a heavy +overcoat over a bedraggled suit. One of his snowy spats was missing; +his hat was dripping, still, from its early immersion. He entered the +building, after a cautious survey of the deserted street, with a stiff +and exhausted gait. + +Shirley was satisfied with this new knot in the string. He returned to +his rooms at the club, to gain fresh strength for the trailing on the +morrow. And this time, he felt that he deserved his rest! + +Next morning, after his usual plunge and rub-down, he ordered breakfast +in his rooms. He instructed the clerk to send up a Remwood typewriter, +and began his experiments with the code of the diary. + +From an old note-book, in which were tabulated the order of letter +recurrences according to their frequency in ordinary English words, he +freshened his memory. This was the natural sequence, in direct ratio to +the use of the letters: "E: T: A: O: N: I: S: B: M, etc." The use of "E" +was double that of any other. Yet on the pages of the book he found that +the most frequently recurring symbol was "R" which was, ordinarily, one +of the least used in the alphabet. "T," which would have been second +in popularity, naturally, was seen only a few times in proportion. "Y," +also seldom used, appeared very often. The symbol "A" was used with +surprising frequency. + +"Let me see," he mused. "This code is strictly typewritten. It must be +arranged on some mechanical twist of the typing method. A is used so +many times that it might be safe to assume that it is used for a space, +as all the words in this code run together. If A is used that way, +what takes its place? S would by rights be seventh on the list, but the +average I have made shows that it is about third or fourth." + +Carefully he jotted down in separate columns on a piece of paper the +individual repetitions of letters on the page of "January 7, 1915." He +arrived at the conclusion, then, that "R" was used for "E," that "S" +took the place of "A" and that "Y" alternated in this cipher for "T" +which was second on his little list. + +Fur the benefit of the reader who may be interested enough to work +out this little problem, along the lines of Shirley's deductions the +arrangement of the so-called "Standard" keyboard is here shown, as it +was on the "Number Four" machine of Warren's Remwood, and the duplicate +machine which Shirley was using. + + Q W E R T Y U I O P + + A S D F G H J K L; + + Z X C V B N M,. + + Shift SPACE BAR Shift + Key Key + +This diagram represents the "lower case" or small letters, capitals +being made by holding down one of the shift keys on either side, and +striking the other letter at the same time, there being two symbols on +each metal type key. As only small letters were used through the code +Shirley did not bother about the capitals. He realized at last, that if +his theory of substitution were correct the writer had struck the key +to the right of the three frequent letters. He had the inception of the +scheme. + +Starting with the first line of the sentences so jumbled on the page +for January 7, 1915, he began to reverse the operation, copying it off, +hitting on the typewriter the keyboard letter to the left of the one +indicated in the order of the cipher. + +The result was gratifying. He continued for several lines, having +trouble only with the letter "P." At last he realized that the only +substitution for that could be "Q." In other words, "A" had been used +for the space letter throughout, and for all the other symbols the one +on the right had been struck, except "P" which being at the end of the +line had been merely swung to the first letter on the other end of it! + +No wonder Warren had been so confident of its baffling simplicity! Many +of the well-known rules for reading codes would not work with this one, +and had it not been for Shirley's suspicion, aroused in the library +of the arch-schemer the night before, he would hardly have given the +typewriter, as a mechanical aide, a second thought. Warren's desire to +drop the subject of machines had planted a dangerous seed. + +Laboriously Shirley typed off the material of the entire page for the +fatal Thursday, and his elation knew no bounds as he realized that here +was a key to many of the activities of his enemy. He donned his hat and +coat and hurried over to the Hotel California to show his discovery +to Helene. She invited him up to her suite at once, where he wasted no +words but exhibited the triumphant result of his efforts. He handed her +his own transcription, and this is what she read: + +"January 7, 1915, Thursday. + +"learned from bank de cleyster drew six thousand in morning monk assigned +to taxi work for tea shine assigned to fix generator margie fairfax date +with de cleyster at five, shine and joe hawley covering game jake and +ben assigned black car for me paid phil one hundred covering special +work job finished riverside drive at eighty third sharp deposited night +and day four thousand safe deposit fifteen hundred lent dolly marion two +hundred for dress for party with van cleft next afternoon advanced shine +one thousand to cover option of yacht sunbeam paid to broker that night +ordered provisions telephone for yacht two month cruise monk assigned +for job next day advanced shine five hundred on account work on +wellington serral matter repairs black machine fifty party apartment +same night champagne one hundred fifty caterer one hundred tips fifty +five to janitor taxis twelve must stir phil up on work for grimsby +matter memorandum arrange for yacht mooring on east river instead of +north after wednesday eighth job finis memorandum settle telephone +exchange proceeds not later than monday paid electrician special wiring +two hundred in full settlement." + +"There, Miss Helene, how do you like my little game of letter building?" + +There was a boyish gleam of triumph in his smile as he turned toward +her. + +"You are a wizard, but how did you work it all out?" There was no +smile in her face, only a mingled horror at the revelations of this +calculating monster in his businesslike murder work, and an unfeigned +admiration for Shirley's keenness. + +"A very old method, but one which would have availed for naught without +your help. The letter paper which you used and the unmistakable identity +of Warren's machine are two more bars of iron with which to imprison +him. The paper of that note is the same on which they wrote to Van +Ceft for money, and their threats to me. This shows from a microscopic +examination of its texture. I will give the whole book to a trustworthy +stenographer: more than six months of these little confessions are +tabulated here. Warren was evidently so used to this code that he could +write in it as easily as I do with the straight alphabet. His training +in German universities developed a thoroughness, a methodical recording +of every thing, which is apt to cost him dearly. And his undoubted +vanity prompted him to have a little volume of his own in that library +to which he could turn occasionally for the retrospection of his own +cleverness. Now, I must investigate this clever telephone system. I +think I have the clue necessary." + +He intrusted the book to Helene for the morning, promising to return +in an hour or two with new information, drolly refusing to tell her his +destination. + +"You're a bad, bold boy, and should be spanked, for not letting some +one know where to look for you in case you get into difficulties," she +pouted. "Perhaps I will do some equally foolish thing myself." + +"If you knew how you frightened me yesterday!" he began. + +"Did you really worry and really care?" But Shirley had slipped out of +the door, leaving her to wonder, and then begin that long delayed letter +to Jack. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. AN EXPEDITION UNDERGROUND + + +The criminologist picked his way through the swarming vehicles which +swung up and down Broadway, across to Seventh Avenue, where he turned +into a plumber's shop. This fellow had handled small jobs on Shirley's +extensive real estate holdings, and he was naturally delighted to do a +favor in the hope of obtaining new work. + +"Mike, I want to borrow an old pair of overalls, a jumper and one of +those blue caps hanging up on your wall. And I need some plumbers' +tools, as well, for a little joke I am to play on one of my friends." + +The workman was astounded at such a request from his rich client, +but nodded willingly. The dirtiest of the clothes answered Shirley's +requirements and with soot rubbed over his face and hands, his hair +disarranged, he satisfied his artistic craving for detail. He was +transformed into a typical leadpipe brigand. Hanging his own garments in +the closet, after transferring his automatic revolver into the pocket of +the jeans, he started out, carrying the furnace pot, and looking like a +union-label article. + +He reached the Somerset by a roundabout walk, passing more than one of +his acquaintances with inward amusement at their failure to recognize +him. He had arranged for Helene to invite Shine Taylor and Reginald +Warren down to call on her at the apartment in the California at this +particular time. So thus he felt that the coast was clear. At the +tradesmen's entrance, where he had gone before to hoist on the +dumbwaiter, he entered the building. An investigation of the basement +showed him that in the rear of the building were one large and two small +courts or air shafts. Then he ascended the iron stairway to the street +level of the vestibule. + +"Say, bo, I come to fix de pipes on de second floor," was his +self-introduction to the haughty negro attendant. "Dey're leakin' an' me +boss tells me to git on de job in a hustle." + +"Which one? I ain't heard o' no leaks. It must be in de empty apartment +in de rear, kase dat old maid in de front would been kickin' my fool +head off ef she's had any trouble. She's always grouchy." + +"Sure, dingy, it's de empty one in de rear. Lemme in an' I'll fix it." + +"You-all better see de superintendent. People is apt to be lookin' at +dat apartment to-day to rent it, an' he mightn't want no plumber mussin' +round. I'll go hunt 'im fer you-all." + +"Say, you jest lemme in now. I'm paid by de hour. You knows what plumber +bills is, an' your superintendent'll fire you if he has to pay ten +dollars' overtime 'cause you hold me up." + +This was superior logic. The negro took him up and opened the door. +Shirley entered, and peered out of the court window in the rear. +Helene's suggestion about the dust was applicable here, for he found +all the windows coated except the one opening upon the areaway. Below he +observed a stone paving with a cracked surface. It was semidark, but his +electric pocket-light enabled him to observe one piece of the rock which +seemed entirely detached. Shirley investigated the closets of the empty +apartment. In one of them he discovered the object of his search. It +was a knotted rope. He first observed the exact way in which it had been +folded in order to replace it without suspicion being aroused. Then he +took it to the small window of the air shafts hanging it on a hook which +was half concealed behind the ledge. Down this he lowered himself, hand +over hand. The stone was quickly lifted--it was hinged on the under +surface. In the dark hole which was before him there was an iron ladder. +Down he went, into the utter blackness. His outstretched hands apprised +him that he was at the beginning of a walled tunnel, through which +he groped in a half-upright position. He reached an iron door, and +remembering his direction calculated that this must be at the rear +entrance of the old garage on West Fifty-fifth Street. It opened, as he +swung a heavy iron bar, fitted with a curious mechanism resembling the +front of a safe. Softly he entered, carrying his heavy boots in his +hand. All was still within, and he shot the glow ray of his little lamp +about him. As the reader may guess, it was the rear room of Warren's +private spider-web! The table, facing the screen was surmounted by an +ingenious telephone switchboard. + +Shirley examined this closely. The various plugs were labelled: +"Rector," "Flatbush," "Jersey City," "Main," "Morningside," and other +names which Shirley recognized as "central" stations of the telephone +company. Here was the partial solution of the mysterious calls. He +determined to test the service! + +He took up the telephone receiver and sent the plug into the orifice +under the label, "Co." wondering what that might be. Soon there was an +answer. + +"Yes, Chief. What is it?" + +"How's everything?" was Shirley's hoarse remark. "I find connections bad +in the Bronx? What's the matter?" + +"I'll send one of the outside men up there to see, Chief. There's a new +exchange manager there, and he may be having the wires inspected. But +my tap is on the cable behind the building. I don't see how he could get +wise." + +Shirley smiled at this inadvertent betrayal of the system: wire tapping +with science. He was able to trap the confederate with his own mesh of +copper now. + +"I want to see you right away. Some cash for you. I'm sick with a cold +in the throat so don't keep me waiting. Go up town and stand in the +doorway at 192 West Forty-first Street. Don't let anybody see you while +you wait there, so keep back out of sight. How soon can you be there?" + +"Oh, in half an hour if I hurry. Any trouble? You certainly have a bum +voice, Chief. But how will I know it's you?" + +"I'll just say, 'Telephone,' and then you come right along with me, to a +place I have in mind. Don't be late, now! Good-bye." + +Shirley drew out the connection and tried the exchange labelled +"Rector." Instantly a pleasant girl's voice inquired the number desired. + +"Bryant 4802-R." + +This was the Hotel California. + +The operator on the switchboard of the hostelry replied. + +"Give me Miss Marigold's apartment, please." + +Helene's voice was soon on the wire. Shirley asked for Warren in a gruff +tone. + +"What do you want?" was that gentleman's musical inquiry, in the tones +which were already so familiar to the criminologist. + +"Chief, dis is de Rat. I wants to meet you down at de Blue Goose on +Water Street in half an hour. Kin you'se come? It's important." + +The other was evidently mystified. + +"The Rat? What do you mean? I don't know you. Ring off!" + +Shirley heard the other receiver click. He held the wire, reasoning +out the method of the intriguer. Soon there was a buzz in his ear, and +Warren's voice came to him. It was droll, this reversal of the original +method, which had been so puzzling. + +"What number is this?" + +"Rector 4471, sir," answered the criminologist in the best falsetto tone +he could muster. Then he disconnected with a smile. This was turning the +tables with a vengeance. But he knew that he must be getting away from +the den before the possible investigation by Warren or his lieutenant. +There were many things he would have liked to study about the place. +But his curiosity about the telephone had made it impossible for him to +remain. It was a costly mistake, as events were destined to prove! + +He hurried out of the compartment, into the tunnel, up the rope and +through the window. He replaced the knotted rope, exactly as it had been +before. He put a few drippings of molten lead from the bubbling pot, +under the wash-stand of the bathroom, to carry out the illusion of his +work as plumber. Then he departed from the building, as he had entered. + +In ten minutes he was changing his garments in Mike's plumbing shop, +with a fabulous story of the excruciating joke he had played upon a sick +friend. Then he walked rapidly to the doorway at 192 West Forty-first +Street. + +Back against the wall of this empty store entry, lounged a +pleasant-looking young man who puffed at a perfecto. Shirley stepped +in, and in a low tone, said: "Telephone." The other started visibly, and +scrutinized the well-groomed club man from head to foot. + +"Well, Chief, you're a surprise. I never thought you looked like that. +Where will we go?" + +"Over to the gambling house a friend of mine runs, just around the +corner. There we can talk in quiet." + +Shirley led the way, restraining the smile which itched to betray his +enjoyment of the situation. The other studied him with sidelong glances +of unabated astonishment. They were soon going up the steps of the +Holland Agency, which looked for all the world, with its closed +shutters, and quiet front, like a retreat for the worshipers of Dame +Fortune. Cronin fortunately did not believe in signs. So the young man +was not suspicious, even when Shirley gave three knocks upon the door, +to be admitted by the sharp-nosed guardian of the portal. + +"Tell Cleary to come downstairs, Nick," said the criminologist. "I want +him to meet a friend of mine." + +The superintendent was soon speeding two steps at a time. + +"The Captain is back, Mr. Shirley," he exclaimed. "He's in the private +office on a couch." + +"Good, then we'll take my friend right to him." + +The stranger was beginning to evidence uneasiness, and he turned +questioningly to his conductor, with a growing frown. + +"Say, what are you leading me into, Chief?" + +Shirley said nothing but strode to the rear of the floor, through the +door of Captain Cronin's sanctum. The old detective was covered with +a steamer shawl, as he stretched out on a davenport. The young man +observed the photographs around the room,--an enormous collection of +double-portraits of profile and front face views--the advertized crooks +for whom Cronin had his nets spread in a dozen cases. The handcuffs on +the desk, the measuring stand, the Bertillon instruments on the table, +all these aroused his suspicions instantly. + +He whirled about, angrily. + +Shirley smiled in his face. Then he addressed the surprised Captain +Cronin. + +"Here is our little telephone expert who arranged the wires for Warren +and his gang, Captain. You are welcome to add him to your growing +collection of prisoners." + +For answer the young man whipped out a revolver and fired point-blank at +the criminologist. His was a ready trigger finger. But he was no swifter +than the convalescent detective on the couch, who had swung a six +shooter from a mysterious fold of the steamer blanket, and planted a +bullet into the man's shoulder from the rear. + +As the smoke cleared away, Shirley straightened up from the crouching +position on the floor which had saved him from the assassin, and dragged +the wounded criminal to his feet. The handcuffs clicked about his wrists +before the young man had grasped the entire situation. Cleary and three +others of the private force were in the room. + +"I've got to hurry along now, Captain. Just let him know that his Chief +is captured and the sooner he turns State's evidence the better it will +be for him. The District Attorney might make it lighter, if he helps. +I'll be back this evening if I can." And Shirley hurried away, leaving +much surprise and bewilderment in every mind. + +Cronin was equal to the task of picking up the threads, and under +his sarcasm, and Cleary's rough arguments, the prisoner admitted some +interesting matters about the mysterious employer whose face he had +never seen. But Shirley's task was far from completed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. A DOUBLE ON THE TRAIL + + +Shirley walked up to the Hotel California, at the door of which he met +Warren and Taylor just leaving. They looked somewhat embarrassed but his +manner was cordiality itself. + +"Sorry you are going. I was just stepping up to see Miss Marigold. Won't +you come back?" + +His invitation was refused. Then Shirley urged Warren to be his guest +at the club for dinner that evening. This was accepted with a surprising +alacrity. So, he left them, and was soon talking with Helene. + +"You missed a curious little sociable party," she assured him. "They +tried to quiz me, and I confess that I worked for the same purpose--no +results on either side. But, Warren had an unusual telephone call, which +disturbed him so much that he hurried away, sooner than he had planned." + +Shirley recounted his explorations of the afternoon, with the +explanation of Reginald's disturbance. It was certain now that the +leader of the assassins had something to cause uneasiness,--enough to +take his mind off the campaign of murder and blackmail. + +"But he will try to get you out of the way," was her anxious answer. +"You are multiplying needless dangers. Why don't you have him arrested +now--the phonograph records will identify his voice, will they not? The +diary will show his career, and everything seems complete in the case." + +Shirley sat down in the window-seat, before replying. + +"It is just my own vanity, then, perhaps. I am foolish enough to believe +that I can trap him on some crime which will give him the complete +punishment he deserves without dragging in the names of these +unfortunate old society men. All our trouble would be for nothing, just +now, if the story came out. The phonograph records helped me--but +I prefer to keep that method to myself, as a matter of interest and +selfishness. Somewhere, in that beautiful apartment of his there must be +clues which will send him to the electric chair on former crimes: Warren +is an artist who has handled other brushes than the ones he used on this +masterpiece. He is not a beginner. So, I must ransack his apartment." + +"That is impossible, with all the care he takes with bolts and locks." + +"We shall see. Meanwhile, I'll spin the yarn of the last thirty-six +hours. I'm sure your curiosity is whetted: my own is by no means +satisfied." + +So he gave her a survey of the progress he had made. Helene brought +forth a number of typewritten pages which she had transcribed from the +diary, proudly exhibiting a machine which she had ordered sent up from +the hotel office. + +"There, sir, we are unwinding the ravelings of his past life to an +extent. I have found a mysterious reference to a Montfluery case in +Paris, during August of last year. What can you do to investigate that +lead?" + +Shirley jotted down the name, and answered: "A cable to the prefecture +of Police of the city of Paris from Captain Cronin will bring details. +That should be an added link in the chain, within the next twenty-four +hours. I am going to leave you for the while, as I wish to investigate a +certain yacht which is moored in the East River. That yacht is there for +a purpose--you remember his reference to the payment of supplies for +a two-month cruise. My amateurish vanity leads me to a hope that I can +capture him just at the crucial moment when he thinks he is successful +in his escape from pursuit." + +"That is the childishness of the masculine mind," retorted Helene. "You +say we women are illogical, but we are essentially practical in the +small things. I would advise closing the doors before the horse escapes, +rather than a chase from behind!" + +"Perhaps," answered Monty, "but the uncertainty does allure me. I always +enjoyed skating on thin ice, from the days of college when I loved to +get through a course of lectures on as little work as possible. The +satisfaction of 'getting away with it' against odds was so exhilarating. +I will return after my little dinner with Warren at the Club. Where will +you dine?" + +"Your friend Dick Holloway is taking me to some restaurant where singing +and music may alter my refusal to him." + +"Your refusal?" and Shirley shot a quick glance at the girl. Her dimples +appeared as she added: "Yes--he wants me to star in a little play for +the coming spring, but I have had such fun playing in real-life drama +that I said him nay." + +"Oh," was all the criminologist said, but as he left, Helene's laugh +interpretated a little feminine satisfaction. Monty's mind was just +disturbed enough about the attitude of Dick Holloway to keep him from +worrying over the Warren case until he had reached the East River, near +the yacht club mooring. + +There was the white yacht which had been mentioned in the purloined +book. It was a trim, speedy craft. The criminologist walked down a few +blocks to the office of a boat contractor with whom he had dealt on +bygone occasions. + +"I want to engage a fast motor-boat, Mr. Manby," was his request. "The +speediest thing you've got. Keep it down at your dock, at Twenty-first +Street, with plenty of gasoline and a man on duty all the time, starting +with six o'clock to-night. I may need it at a minute's notice." + +"I've got a hydroplane which I'll sell this spring to some yachtsman," +said Manby. "It's a bargain--you can do forty miles an hour in it, +without getting a drop of spray. Shall I show it to you?" + +"Yes, and the two men who you will have alternating on duty, so they +will know me when I come for it. I'll pay for every minute it is +reserved." + +They soon came to terms; the men were introduced and Shirley was well +satisfied with the racing craft, which was moored according to his +directions, handy for a quick embarkation. + +Then he went up to the Holland Agency. Cronin was disappointed in +his results with the telephone confederate. All of Warren's men were +close-mouthed, as though through some biting fear of swift and unerring +vengeance for "squealing." Even the prisoners in the station-house had +not volunteered to communicate with friends, as they were allowed to +do by law. They were "standing pat," as the old detective declared in +disgust. + +"That proves one thing," remarked the criminologist. "They are not local +products, or they would have friends other than their chief on whom to +call for bail or aid. Their whole work centers on him. I think I will +send a code message to this man Phil this afternoon or evening. He may +be able to read it, and if he does, it may assist us. I wish you would +have a man call on Miss Marigold at the California Hotel, so that she +may know his face. Then keep him covering her for they are apt to get +suspicious of her and try to quiet her. She is a game and fearless girl, +but she is no match for this gang." + +Cronin assigned one of the men immediately, and the sleuth took up a +note of introduction to Helene, in which Monty explained the need for +his watch. + +Shirley then repaired to the club house to await his dinner guest. He +was thoughtful about the alacrity of Warren to dine with him. There was +more to this assumed friendliness than the mere desire to talk to him. + +"I wonder if he wants to keep me occupied for some certain reason?" +pondered the club man. "Helene is protected now by a silent watcher. The +members of the Lobster Club are all out of the city. Van Cleft is safe +on the ocean. They must be laying a trap. I wonder where that trap would +be?" + +As he looked about his rooms he realized that many important pieces of +evidence were locked up in his chests and the small safe. His bedroom, +in the uppermost floor of the club building, was in a quiet and less +frequented part of the house. Shirley summoned one of the shrewd +Japanese valets who worked on the dormitory floors of the building. + +"Chen," he began. "Are you a good fighter?" + +The Mongolian grinned characteristically. Shirley took out a bill, and +handed it to the little fellow. + +"I have reason to think some one may come into my rooms to-night, while +I am busy downstairs. How would you like to lock yourself on the inside +of my clothes closet, and wait? The air is not very good, but with this +ten dollars you could take a nice ride in the country to-morrow, and get +lots of good oxygen in your lungs to make up for it." + +Chen was a willing little self-jailer. Shirley handed him his own +revolver, and the slant eyes sparkled with glee at the opportunity for +some excitement. Americans may carp at the curious manners and alleged +shortcomings of the Oriental, but personal fear does not seem to be in +the category of their faults. So, with this little valet, who improved +his time, as Shirley had discovered, by taking special courses in +Columbia University's scientific department. The criminologist had used +him on more than one occasion when Eastern subtlety and apparent lack of +guile had accomplished the impossible! + +The closet door was closed, and Shirley went downstairs. At the desk of +the, club clerk he sent a cablegram to the police authorities of Paris. +The message was simple + +"Cable collect to Holland Detective Agency name and record of man in +Montfleury case, August, 1914. Do you want him?................. Cronin, +Captain." + +Shirley smiled as he handed the envelope to the little messenger who had +been summoned, and made his exit through the front doorway just as the +affable Reginald Warren entered it: another instance of "ships that pass +in the night," was the thought of the host who advanced courteously. + +"You are on time to the minute: German training, I see. Let the boy have +your hat and coat, Mr. Warren." + +These little amenities completed, they sauntered about the beautiful +building, Shirley pointing out the many interesting photographs of +athletic teams, trophies, club posters, portraits of famous graduates, +and the like, which seem part and parcel of collegiate atmosphere. +Warren was profoundly interested, yet there was an abstraction in his +conversation which was not unobserved by his entertainer. As they passed +a tall, colonial clock in the broad hallway, Shirley caught him glancing +uneasily at it. This was the second time he had looked at its silvered +face since they came into the range of it. Purposely the club man took +him down the length of the big dining-hall, to exhibit the trophies of +the hunt, from jungles and polar regions, contributed by the sportsmen +members of past classes. Here Shirley chatted about this and that boar's +head, yonder elephant hide, the other tiger skin, until he had consumed +additional time. As they passed into the lounging room Shirley led his +guest past another small mahogany clock. Again the sharp, anxious +glance at the progress of the minutes. He was convinced by now that some +deviltry was being perfected on schedule time. He began to worry over +his little assistant on the floor high above: perhaps he would not be +able to cope with the plotters, after all. Yet, Chen was wiry, cunning, +and needed no diagrams as to the purpose for which he was to guard the +rooms. + +At last Shirley led Warren to the grill-room where they ordered their +dinner: the supreme test of a gentleman is his taste in the menu for a +discriminating guest. Warren sensed this, as the delicious viands and +rare old wines were brought out in a combination which would have warmed +the heart cockles of the fussiest old gourmon from Goutville! + +"Ah, a feast fit for the gods," were his admiring words, as the two men +smiled across this strange board of hospitality. In the midst of +the meal, their chat of student days was interrupted by a page who +approached Shirley. + +"Begging your pardon, sir, but I have a note which was left here by +messenger for a gentleman named Mr. R. Warren; your guest, I believe, +sir?" + +Warren's face flushed, and his surprise was indubitable. He snatched +the envelope from the boy, who had reached it toward Shirley. The +criminologist was no less in the dark. Warren, with a scant apology, +tore open the missive. It was typewritten! He read it, and his brows +came together with an angry scowl. + +He arose from his seat swiftly, turning toward Shirley with a nervous +twitching of the erstwhile firm lips. + +"Would you pardon me if I ran? A Wall Street client of mine has suddenly +been stricken with apoplexy. We have deals together, dependent upon +gentlemen's agreements, without a word of writing. It may mean a fortune +to get to him before he loses all power of speech. It is a shame to +spoil, at this time, such a wonderful dinner as I had promised myself +with you. Can you forgive me?" + +The man was visibly panic-stricken, although his superb nerve was +fighting hard to cover his terror. Shirley wondered what news could have +fallen into his hand this way. He watched the envelope, hoping that he +would inadvertently drop it. But no such luck! Warren carefully folded +it and put it with the letter into the breast pocket of his coat. + +"My dear fellow, business before indigestion, always! I am sorry to have +you go, but we will try again. I will go upstairs with you. Shall I call +a taxicab for you?" + +Warren expostulated, but the host followed him to the check room. Unseen +by Warren, Shirley inserted a handkerchief from his own pocket into the +overcoat pocket of the other with a sleight-of-hand substitution, in the +withdrawal of the guest's small linen square! + +Warren rushed to the door. He sprang into the first taxicab that came +along, and disappeared. Shirley watched the car as it raced away and +noticed its number. He turned to the door man. + +"Whose machine was that? On the regular club stand here?" + +"Yes, sir. A man named Perkins drives it, sir." + +"Will it return here as soon as the fare is taken to the end of the +trip?" + +"Yes, sir, they have orders for that. They belong to a gent who supplies +cars for our club exclusively, sir. They are not allowed to take outside +passengers." + +"Very good! You send for me, in my rooms, as soon as the driver of the +car shows up. I want to find out where he went." + +Shirley hurried up in the lift to his own floor. He went to the door of +his room, and tried to open it with his key. It was bolted from inside! +There came a muffled report from within. Then he heard a cry, which +he recognized as the voice of Chen, the Jap. He dropped to the floor, +listening at the crack--a scuffle was in progress within! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. A BURGLARY FOR JUSTICE + + +Shirley rose, and once more applied that gridiron-trained boot of his: +this time to the lock of the door. Two doses resulted in a complete cure +for its obstinacy. As he rushed into the room, he saw a figure swing out +of the window on a dangling rope. He hesitated--the desire to chase +this intruder to the roof of the club struggled with his duty to the +unfortunate Jap, who lay on the floor, where he was being garroted by a +burly ruffian in a chauffeur's habiliments. He sprang toward his little +assistant, and made quick work of the big man. + +As he threw the other, with one of his "silencer" twists of the neck +cords, the Jap sprang up. A demoniac anger twisted that usually smiling +countenance, and it took all of Shirley's strength, to wrest away the +automatic revolver from the maddened valet, to prevent swift revenge. + +"Why, Chen. He's caught. Don't shoot him now!" + +Chen, with a voluble stream of Nagasaki profanity, spluttered in rage, +and strove like a bantam rooster to get at his antagonist. The necessity +for quieting him to prevent bloodshed was fatal to the pursuit of the +other man, as Shirley realized bitterly. The servants were running to +the room by this time. The club steward opened the battered door, and +Shirley turned to explain. + +"You have a brave little man, here, Cushman. Chen heard this burglar +in my room, and tried to capture him at the risk of his own life. He +deserves promotion and a raise in salary. Go downstairs and call the +police. We'll have this fellow locked up!" + +The man glared at Shirley, and rubbed his throat which throbbed from the +vice-like grip of the jiu-jitsu. Chen still breathed hard and his almond +eyes rolled nervously. At last he was quiet again, although the slender +fingers twitched hungrily for a clawing of that dirty neck. Shirley +patted him on the back. Judgment had come to another of the gangsters, +and the criminologist was pleased at the diminution in the ranks of his +opponent. + +An examination of his cabinet and dresser drawers showed that the +pillaging had barely begun when Chen popped out of his hiding-place. +It was no wonder that Warren had been so solicitous as to the speeding +time: intuition had once more intervened to interrupt these well-laid +schemes. + +The little Jap could tell barely more of his adventure than that he had +opened the door when he heard men walking and talking in the room. Then +the struggle had ensued, with the result already described. + +Now, indeed, was Shirley more puzzled than ever at Warren's sudden +departure. It had upset the plans of the conspirators: it was an +unwelcome surprise to their Chief. And furthermore it had interfered +with a little scheme of the criminologist by which he had expected to +craftily imprison his guest for the remainder of the night. + +The room was put in order--not much was there to rearrange, for the +tussle had come so promptly. With a final look at his belongings, +Shirley left Chen in charge, not forgetting to slip to him another +reward for his courage. + +Then he went downstairs and hurried over to the Hotel California to hold +a conference of war with Helene Marigold. + +She was nervous, as she greeted him. Yet a subtle smile on her face +showed that she was not surprised by the visit. Shirley quickly outlined +the occurrences of the dinner hour. When he asked her opinion, for he +had learned to place a growing trust in her quick grasp of things, she +walked silently to her typewriter. + +"Here, sir, is a little note which may amuse you." + +She handed him a piece of paper. It read: + +"Chief: The Monk has turned up at the Blue Goose on Water Street. He is +drunk and telling all he knows. Come down at once to help us quiet him. +Hurry or every thing will be known. You know who." + +Shirley looked at the message, and then with tilted eyebrows at his fair +companion. + +"What do you know about the Blue Goose?" he asked. "And the Monk? For I +presume that you wrote this out?" + +"Your presumption is correct. I remembered hearing Warren ask Taylor +this afternoon after that telephone call from you, where the Blue Goose +saloon could be. Taylor told him it was a sailor's dive on Water Street. +The night they thought me dreaming on his library couch, I heard Taylor +ask Warren if they had heard from the Monk. So, it seemed to me that +the two questions might interest Mr. Reginald Warren if presented in a +language that he understood." + +"And what was that language?" + +"It was a code message, which I typed out on this Remwood machine here, +by the system you told me. It was slow work, but I finished it and sent +it over to the club, knowing Warren would be with you. I really don't +know what good the message would do. But being an illogical woman, and +a descendant of Pandora, I thought it would be amusing to open the +Pandora's box and let all the little devils loose, just to see the +glitter of their wings!" + +Shirley caught her hands delightedly. + +"You bully girl! Nothing could have happened better. I'll improve my +time now, by visiting Mr. Warren's apartment, impolite as it is without +an invitation. And then I think I will go calling in that little cave of +the winds in the rear of his art collection, on the other street." + +"But, Monty--I Mean, Mr. Shirley," and a rosy embarrassment overcame +her, "you will put your head into the lion's mouth once too often. Why +not wait until you get him under lock and key?" + +"My dear girl, we will telephone my club and talk to the door man. I +think that he may be under lock and key by this time, in a manner you +little suspect. Let me have the number." + +He went to the instrument on her dressing-table. The club was soon +reached, and Dan the door man was answering his eager question. + +"Yes, sir, the taxi has come back, sir." + +"Send the chauffeur to the wire. I want to talk to him," said Shirley. +The man was soon speaking. "What address did you take that gentleman to, +my man?" + +"Why, sir, I started out for the Battery, but sir, a terrible thing +happened." + +"What was it?" + +"The gentleman was overcome with an ep'leptic stroke or somethin' like +that. He pounded on the winder behind me, and when I stopped me car, and +looked in he was down an' out. I was on Thirty-third Street and Fift' +Avenue at the time, so I calls a cop, and he orders me to run 'im over +to Bellevue. He's there now, sir. He ain't hardly breathin', sir. It's +terrible!" + +"Too bad, I must go and call, to see if I can help him!" was Shirley's +remark as he hung up the receiver. He repeated the news to Helene. Her +eyes sparkled, as she said: "Ah, those symptoms resemble the ones you +told me which came from that amo-amas-amat-citron, or whatever it was." + +"Not quite such a loving lemon, Miss Marigold," he chuckled. "Amyl +nitrite. The same soothing syrup which quieted our would-be robbers on +Sixth Avenue, that night when we left his apartment. It will wear off +in about three hours. I had a little glass container folded in my own +handkerchief, which I put in his overcoat pocket as a parting souvenir, +crushing it as I did so. I reasoned that undue anxiety which he +displayed might cause him to mop his brow, close to that student-duel +scar. One smell of the chemical on that handkerchief, in the quantity +which I gave, was enough to quiet his worries. Now for the Somerset +Apartment." + +He looked at his watch. + +"It is eight fifteen. I want you to telephone up to Warren's apartment +exactly at ten o'clock. Tell them--there should be a them, that I have +been overcome in your apartment, and that they are the only people who +can help you, or who know you. I believe that the idea of finding me +unconscious, and getting me away will bring any and all of his friends +who may be there. If Taylor is there with others, he will hardly leave +them in the place when he goes. What I want is to be sure that the coast +is cleared of people at that hour. Then I will make an investigation +into his papers and other matters of interest. Can I count on you?" + +A reproachful pouting of the scarlet lips was the only answer. Shirley +left, this time hurrying uptown to a certain engine-house, whose fire +captain he had known quite well in the old reportorial days. + +It was beginning to snow once more. And as Shirley slipped out of the +engine-house, carrying a scaling ladder which he had borrowed after much +persuasion from his good-natured friend, he thanked his luck for this +natural veiling of the night, to baffle eyes too curious about the +campaign he had planned. He knew the posts of the policemen on this +street, and sedulously avoided them. + +The Warren apartment faced the Eastern side of the structure, and when +he reached the front of the Somerset, he sought for a way in which +to use his implement. A scaling ladder, it may be explained to the +uninitiated, is about eight feet long--a single fire-proof bar, on which +are short cross-pieces. At one end is a curiously curving serrated hook, +which is used for grappling on the sills of windows or ledges above. +It is the most useful weapon for the city fire-fighter, enabling him to +climb diagonally across the face of a threatened structure, or even +to swing horizontally from one window to a far one, where ladders and +hose-streams might not reach. + +A hundred feet to the West of the Somerset he found the excavations for +a new apartment house. No watchman was in sight, in the mist of falling +flakes, so the criminologist disappeared over the fence which separated +the plot of ground from the sidewalk. Advancing with many a stumble +through the blasted rock and shale, he obtained ingress to an alleyway +in the rear. Following this brought him to the back of the Somerset. +Shirley had an obstinate grandfather, and heredity was strong upon him. +It seemed a foolhardy attempt to scale the big structure, but he raised +the ladder to the window-sill of the second story, climbing cautiously +up to that ledge. + +On the second sill he rested, then stretched his scaler diagonally +forward to the left. As he put his feet upon this, he swung like a +pendulum across the space. It was a severe grueling of nerves, but his +judgment of placement was good. When the ladder stopped swinging he +clambered up another story, as he had learned to do on truant afternoons +wasted at the firemen's training school, during the privileged days of +journalistic work. + +Floor after floor he ascended, until he reached the eighth, on which was +Shirley's great goal. Here he exerted the utmost prudence, refraining +from the natural impulse to look down at the great crevasse beneath +him. His footing was slippery, but the thickening snowfall was a boon +in white disguise, for it protected him from almost certain observation +from the street below. Slowly he raised his eyes to a level with the +illuminated window, and peered in. + +A strange sight greeted him. + +Shine Taylor was busily engaged in the 'twisting of coils of wire, about +shiny brass cylinders, with an array of small and large clocks, electric +batteries and mysterious bottles on the carved library table. He was +intent upon the manufacture of another of his diabolical engines of +death! + +Even as he watched, the door opened and who should stagger into the room +but Reginald Warren! + +"Great Scott, Reg! What hit you?" was Taylor's ejaculation, as the +other stumbled forward, with a hand to his purple face, to sink into an +easy-chair, groaning. The man outside the window could not distinguish +the words, but the current of thought was well expressed in pantomime. + +"I've been drugged!" moaned Warren. "That devil put something on my +handkerchief which knocked me out. I came to in Bellevue and I had a +time getting away to come back here. What about the Monk? Did you see +him?" + +Taylor had run to his side. It seemed as though Warren's eyes would pop +from his head. The veins were swollen on his pallid brow, and he gasped +for air. + +"Open the window!" he murmured, and his confederate rushed to the very +portal through which the criminologist was watching this unusual +scene, with bated breath. His heart sank, as he lowered himself with +a suddenness which vibrated the loosely-attached scaler. For the first +time his eyes turned toward the terrifying distance from which he had +ascended. + +There was a squeak and he heard the window slide in its frame. He +felt that all was over. It would be impossible for Shine Taylor not to +observe the hooked prong of the ladder, with its curving metal a few +inches from his hands. In this ghastly minute of suspense, Shiley's +thoughts, strangely enough turned back to one thing. He did not +dash through the gamut of his life experiences nor regret all past +peccadilloes, as novelists inform us is generally the ultimate thought +in the supreme moment before a dash into eternity! He felt only a +maddening, itchingly bewitching desire to reach up to his coat pocket +and draw out that scent-laden page of typed note-paper which had been +glorified by its caress of the warm, bare bosom of the wonderful woman +who had so mysteriously drifted into the current of his life. + +Then he heard a voice through the open window so close to his ears: it +was Shine Taylor's nasal whine. + +"It's snowing, Reg. The air will do you good. What a gorgeous night for +a murder. Tell me now, what was the trouble?" + +And Shirley swung, and swung and swung! + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. IN THE DOUBLE TRAP + + +Eternity had passed, the Judgment Day had been overlooked and new aeons +had gone their way, it seemed to the criminologist, when the voice was +audible again. + +"Oh, all right. I just drew it down from the top. Tell me about your +doping. Who was the devil?" + +He had been unobserved. By the grace of the fates, Warren's sudden +appearance had given him a better chance to hear their secrets, and +Taylor's own abstraction had dissipated any interest in the world beyond +the window. Again he lifted himself to the level of the sill, sure that +the creamy curtains upon which the light from the big electrolier +was beaming, would shield him from their view. Warren called for some +brandy. Taylor served him, but it was three minutes or more before the +other could collect himself. Then he began furiously, as the pain in his +forehead diminished. + +"This Shirley: he's a clever dog. He put something on my handkerchief, +and when I got that message of yours it got me, right in the taxicab, as +I was on my way to the Blue Goose to meet you." + +"To meet me?" and Taylor's turn came to be startled. "I don't know why +you should meet me at the Blue Goose!" + +"Say, didn't you send me this note in code?" demanded Warren, drawing +out the typewritten sheet. Taylor shook his head, with a blanched face. + +The other looked at him with the first evidence of fear which Shirley +had ever seen on the confident face. Warren caught his assistant's hand, +and drew his face down toward the note. + +"Look, it is in our code. Phil can read it but he is the only one beside +you. He is locked up in jail, and couldn't reach a typewriter. I got a +message from him this afternoon that he wouldn't squeal. You know how he +smuggled it out to me. Tell me how could any one know about the Monk and +write this so?" + +Taylor shook his head, speechless. As he turned his face toward the +window Shirley observed the great drawn shadows under his squinting +eyes. The sudden shock was telling on that weasel face. Taylor walked +unsteadily toward the infernal machine, and he looked blankly toward +Warren again. The other's blazing orbs were full upon him now. There was +a frightful menace in their glittering depths as he spoke. + +"Taylor, if I thought you had sold out I'd skin you alive right now!" + +"Reg--Reg--you are my best friend. Don't say a thing like that." + +"Are you selling me for some purpose. Are you soft on that chicken? Has +she blarneyed you into this?" demanded his chief, rising, unsteadily, +but fierce in his suspicious tensity. + +Taylor cowered, with imploring hands stretched out. + +"Why, Reg, no one ever did for me what you've done. I'd die rather than +sell you out, and there ain't a dame in the world that could make me +soft on a real game like this." + +As Warren studied his white face there came a tinkle on the telephone. + +"What's that? Who's that?" Warren turned and ran toward the instrument, +still studying the face of his companion. It was evident that a seed of +distrust was planted in his bosom. He answered nervously. + +"Yes, yes! What do you want? Who's speaking?" + +Then he listened, and a wise expression came over his face. It broke +into a smile for the first time since he entered the room. He winked at +Taylor who drew near him. Shirley strained his ears to catch the words. + +"Yes, yes, why, my dear Miss Bonbon. Surely, I'll be glad to come +down--To help take care of Mr. Shirley--Of course, I will come in my +machine and bring him uptown to a hospital--That's what you want?--Yes, +indeed, nothing would give me greater pleasure." + +He rang off, and turned toward Taylor. + +"That smooth devil has sniffed some of his own dope as sure as you live, +Shine. We'll get him. Call up and have the machine sent around. You and +I will be a committee of two, and we'll end this tonight. Bring what you +need." + +Warren drank another full glass of brandy, while Taylor gave a quick +order over the telephone. Then the latter snatched up a small black +satchel which was standing on a side table. The assistant came to the +window, and Shirley dropped down out of sight, for another moment of +suspense. But the sash was quickly closed and bolted. + +The light was turned out, and he waited another five minutes, stiffening +in the cold wind which had sprung up to send the big flakes in eddies +against his numbed fingers. With difficulty he fished out a long, thin +wire from his pocket, with which he had frequently turned the safety +catch of windows on other such occasions. Again it served its purpose, +and he drew himself up to the sash of the opened window. He brushed off +the snow, so as to leave no telltale puddles of drippings. He went to +the door of the library, and then to that of the vestibule. + +It was locked from the outside, even as they had done when Helene was +the drowsy prisoner. + +He had little time, he knew, for his search, but he first thought of +the girl's predicament. He must cover the tracks there. He took up the +receiver, and in a minute was talking to her. + +"I'm in. Leave word downstairs (and pay the clerk and bell-boy a good +bribe) that you have gone to a hospital with a sick friend. Tell them +to swear to that, and better still leave the hotel at once, hunt up +Dick Holloway--you'll find him at the Thespis Club to-night. Send in the +chauffeur to ask for him and have him stay with you in the machine. I am +going to visit the other place when I finish here. I'll be down there, +at the Thespis Club, by eleven again. Good-bye--use your wits." + +Then he began a hurried ransacking of the apartment. He picked up a +note-book here, sheets of memoranda there, letters and documents which +he thought would be convenient. Warren's bedrooms were locked, but a +small "jimmie" sufficed to force them open. He found in one drawer a +dozen or more bank books, with as many different financial houses, and +under many names. This he shoved into his pockets. At last, satisfied +that he could gain no more, he retreated to the window. He shut this +and was once more on the windowsill. Here he looked down, and a new +inspiration came to him. He would have difficulty in getting admission +to the apartment entrance, at this time of night. The attendant would +remember him and warn Warren upon the latter's return. It was but one +more climb, a single story, to the roof. So, up he went, deserting the +faithful scaling ladder on the roof, for the time being. + +He sought around for several minutes on the snowy, slippery surface +before he found the entrance to the iron stairway close by the elevator +shaft. Then he went softly down. + +Past Warren's apartment, on his way without a noise, his boots off, he +continued until he reached the second floor. Here he was baffled again. +Why had he not taken some impression of the pass-key of the negro +attendant when let in before? Yet now he remembered that the man had +never relinquished his hold upon that open sesame. He remembered the +"jimmy"--yet this would betray him, by the broken lock! + +There was the servant's entrance, however, in the rear of the hallway. +To this he slipped, even as the elevator passed up bearing Warren and +Shine Taylor, muttering angrily. Shirley found the rear door to the +rooms, and there he worked quickly, forcing the lock. He was soon +inside, and hid himself in the pantry of the darkened apartment. He had +not long to wait. + +There was a clicking noise which reverberated through the empty room, +as the other two entered by the front portal. He heard them talking in +whispers, then the creaking of a window, and all was silent again. + +Shirley went to the same small window through which he had descended +before. With his boots tied together by their laces, and suspended from +his neck, on either side, he went down the rope noiselessly. He found +the iron door partially opened, as he reached the end of the corridor. A +block of wood held it back from the jamb. + +"He is prepared for a quick retreat. So shall I be," thought Shirley, +as he noiselessly crept into the chamber, after having drawn away the +wooden block. He let the door come gently to its frame, stopping it +within an inch of its lock. As he turned slightly forward he caught two +curious silhouettes: Warren at his table, with Shine at his side, their +outlines clear and black against the brightness of the headlights. +On, the other side of the transparent screen stood a man, with one +eye blackened, his face badly bruised and wicked in its battered +condensation of evil determination with rage and fright, so oddly mixed. + +"It ain't my fault, Chief! There are only six of the boys left. I tried +me best but this little Chinyman he soaks me one on the lamp, with a +gun butt. Me pal was nabbed in the room when I sneaks out on the rope. I +finds out afterward that Jimmie's watch must-a been about twenty minutes +slow. That's how we misses." + +"But you didn't get him, and I'm going to break you for this!" + +"But gov'nor, listen--we leaves the machine all right. That'll git 'im +anyway. What'll I do?" + +"I have the addresses of the other men here in my pocket. You tell them +to stick right in their rooms for the next twenty-four hours. If they +don't hear anything from me, tell them to go to Frisco by roundabout +ways and I'll forward their money, care of Kelso. Now get out." + +The man disappeared and there was a double click as the door to the +front compartment closed. Warren turned toward Taylor, While Shirley +flattened himself against the rear wall, and crouched down slowly, +without a betraying sound. + +"I don't understand that girl not being there. Some one's closing in on +us. I'm going to break that girl's spirit before I'm through. She'll be +on the yacht tonight, for everything's ready now. What sort of a machine +did you arrange for his room?" + +"The old telephone one we worked in Oakland. It is under his bed. I told +the men to do that first before they went through his things. Then it +would look like plain robbery, and when he goes to take the receiver +off the hook it's 'good-night, nursey!' That little popper will blow the +roof off that club house!" + +Shirley's blood might have run cold at the calm pride of this degenerate +fiend, had it not been boiling at the reference to Helene. He crept +nearer to them, along the wall. He lay down on the floor, below the +level of the first bullet paths. Then he drew his automatic and the bulb +light, ready for his surprise. + +"I'll call up Kick Brown at the telephone company. He's on duty until +twelve. That's an hour yet." + +He placed the plug in position but there came no answer over his private +wire. Warren cursed: this time in a dialect unknown to Shirley. The man +was asserting his most primitive nature now. + +"What does that mean? He knows that it's important to-night. I wonder if +some one has squealed. You know what I said upstairs, Shine?" Warren's +voice was ominous. "I don't like the looks of things. And you're the +only one who has ever known the inside working of my system. I've even +told you the key to my code--Phil knows it in part, but there is nothing +I've kept from you." + +Here Shirley's dramatic instinct asserted itself. In a sepulchral voice, +he spoke: "One key to the right, in writing. One to the left to read. +Hands up, Warren, you're wanted in Paris, and we have the goods on you!" + +Placing the bulb light far to his left, he twisted the little catch +which kept it glowing permanently. The light fell full on the face of +Warren and Taylor as they sprang up back to back! + +"Drop that revolver. It's all up now. You go to the chair for these +murders." + +Warren shot for the body he supposed to be above the little light. As he +did so Shirley sent a bullet into the arch criminal's right wrist. +The weapon dropped from his hand to the table. Shine Taylor, +terror-stricken, staggered against his companion, groping for support. +Warren misunderstood it: he thought his assistant was trying to hold +him. The swift interpretation gave new fuel to the flame of mistrust +which had sprung up in his heart. He knew not how many men were +about him--he merely realized that his crafty plans had been set at +naught,--there could be only this one explanation. He struck at Taylor, +who moaned in pain. + +"You cur, you've squealed on me!" With his uninjured left hand he caught +the other in his Oriental death grip, with all his consummate skill. +Astonished at the sudden move, Shirley rose to his feet. But he +hesitated too long. + +With a faint gurgle, Shine Taylor, pickpocket, mechanical artist and +criminal genius sank to the mouldy ground of the cellar--lifeless! + +Shirley snatched up the light, instinctively throwing its rays upon the +face of the dead man. It was horrible to see this ghastly ending of the +miserable life, so suddenly conceived and grewsomely executed! Here was +Warren's opportunity. He caught up his weapon from the table with the +left hand, and sent a shot at the intruder, leaping at the same time +toward the rear entrance. Monty swung the light about, but the other +threw on an electric switch. He stood by the iron portal a fiendish +smirk on his distorted features. + +"So, my luck is good after all: I've got you where I most want you!" His +weapon covered Shirley's. "I shoot as well with my left hand as with +my right. But, no, I won't shoot you. I'll put you away without a +trace left. That is always the clever way. I told you that the average +criminal was too careless about little things. Good-bye, Mr. Montague +Shirley, I wish you a pleasant journey!" + +His hand, bleeding from the bullet wound, was pushing the iron door, +behind him as he faced Shirley. Suddenly a frightful sound broke the +stillness: it was the final exhalation of air from the dead man's lungs. +It sent a creeping chill through Shirley's blood. Warren's right hand +dropped, nervously for an instant, despite his resolution. In that +second Shirley had brought his own weapon up to a level with the other's +eyes. + +The door closed with a clang! + +Warren's face lost its sneering smile. He was locked in from the rear! + +"Now, let's see you get out the front way," retorted the criminologist. +He had one hand behind him. He felt a metal contrivance, With three +buttons on it. He thought perhaps it were the controlling switch for +the lights. He would take his chances in the dark. He pressed all three +quickly. + +There was a clang from the front, as some mechanism whirred for an +instant. A gong sounded above, and scurrying feet could be heard--then +were audible no more. It was the warning alarm for the gangsters: they +had fled. + +Suddenly to Shirley's straining ears came the tick-ticking of an alarm +clock, from the corner of the room to his right. He dare not look at it. +Warren's eyes grew black with the Great Fear! + +"You fool, you've locked all the entrances, and sent the men away. That +clock will ring in exactly five minutes. When it does, this place will +go up from a load of lyddite. You've dug your own grave!" + +Warren's voice was hoarse, and his bright eyes radiated venomously, as +he kept his weapon pointed, like Shirley's, at the face opposite. They +were both prisoners in the death cellar, with the advantage in favor of +neither! + +And the ticking clock, with its maddening, mechanical death chant +seemed to Shirley to cry, with each beat, like the reminiscence of some +nightmare barbershop: "Next! Next! Next!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. CAPTURED AND THEN + + +Warren's white lips were moving in perfect synchronism, as he counted +the seconds and ticks of the clock. Shirley, never so acute, cudgeled +his mind for some devise by which he might overcame the other. It was +hopeless. At last, just as he knew the inevitable second was almost +completed, a faint rustling came from the other side of the iron door. +Warren's face brightened with hope. With a nerve-racking rasp, the iron +bar on the other side was raised: it was a torturing delay as the two +waited! + +The door slowly opened. After a harrowing pause a revolver muzzle slid +gently through the crack, and a woman's voice murmured softly: "Drop the +gun!" + +It was Helene Marigold! + +Warren's ashen face changed to purple hue, his hand trembled just +enough to incite Shirley to a desperate chance. As the criminal drew the +trigger with a spasmodic jerk, Shirley was dropping to the floor, whence +he pushed himself forward with a froglike leap, as he straightened out +the great muscles. + +Together they rolled in a frenzied struggle. + +"Run back, Helene. The clock will explode!" cried Shirley, desperately. +Instead, she sprang into the bright room, espied the diabolical +arrangement in the corner, and ran to pick it up. She saw the wire, and +her deft fingers reached behind the clock to turn back its hands. Had +she torn the wire, as a man would have done, the dreaded explosion would +have ended it all. + +"We're coming!" + +It was the voice of Pat Cleary from the passageway. He rushed through +the subterranean passage, followed by several men, with Dick Holloway +excitedly in their train. After a titanic struggle, with the man baffled +in this maddening moment of ruined triumph, they handcuffed him. + +Shirley led Helene into the front compartment before she could observe +the horror stamped upon the face of the murdered rogue. + +The girl turned her glorious eyes to his, reached forth her hands, and +then the eternal feminine conquered as she trembled unsteadily and sank +into his arms. + +"Break down the doors, Cleary. Out here, to the street. Pull off the +hands of that clock--it's a lyddite bomb!" cried Shirley, excitedly. + +One of the men used the table with clattering effect. The iron door of +the front room gave way, and Shirley carried Helene up the ladder, to +the main floor of the old garage. She seemed a sleeping lily--so pale, +so fragile, so fragrant in her colorless beauty. He had never seen her +so before! For an instant a great terror pierced him: she seemed not to +breathe. But as he placed his face close to her mouth, her eyes opened +for one divine look, then drooped again. A white hand and arm curled, +with childish confidence, about his shoulder. He bore her thus to the +big car from the Agency, which stood outside. + +"Quick, down to the Hotel California," he called to the chauffeur, "Pat +Cleary can handle matters there." + +As they sped toward her apartment the roses took their wonted place +in her cheeks. She sat up to smile in his face. Then she lowered +her glance, with carmine mounting hotly to her brow. Helene said no +word--nor did Shirley. She simply leaned toward him, to bury her face +upon the broad shoulder, as neither heeded the possible curiosity of the +driver on the seat in front. + +At least, they understood completely. There was nothing else to say! + + * * * + +As Shirley left her at the door of the apartment, he turned into the +elevator, his mind whirling with the strange imprisonment into which he +had let his unwilling heart drift. The clerk stopped him at the lower +floor. + +"There's a call for you, sir. It's rush, the gentleman said!" + +"Great Scott! What now?" he ran to the instrument, and he heard Captain +Cronin's excited voice. + +"Shirley. The man's escaped again! They just came into the place. He +threw some sort of bottle at the front of the patrol wagon which blew it +all to pieces. He got away in the mix-up--three policemen were injured!" + +"I'll get him, Captain, if it's the last act of my life." + +To the surprise of the blase clerk, the well-known club man ran out of +the hotel, dropping his hat in his excitement. He shouted to the driver +who still waited in the agency machine. + +"The sky's the limit, now, son. Race for Twenty-first Street and the +East River. Let me off at the end of the dock. Then go back to get some +men from the agency, as I'll have a prisoner, then, or they'll get my +body!" + +The machine raced down the street, regardless of the warnings of +policemen. Shirley was confident that his was not the only car on such +a mission. He reached the dock of Manby, where was waiting the expert +engineer of the hydroplane. He had not planned in vain. + +"Have you seen an auto go past here before mine?" + +"Yes, sir, I was smoking me pipe, and settin' on the rail of the dock, +when one shoots up toward the Twenty-third Street Ferry, with a cop on a +motor-cycle chasin' it behind." + +"Then, quick, into the boat." + +They clambered down the wet ladder, and after an aggravating delay, the +whirring engines of the racing craft were started. Shirley took off his +coat, and lashed a long rope about his waist. He tied the other end of +it securely to a thwart in the boat. + +"What's your idee, Cap?" asked the engineer, as he waited the signal. + +"There's a man trying to catch that white yacht out in the river. I want +to get him, that's all. If I fall out of this boat, keep right on going, +for I'm tied up now. Where's the boat hook?" + +"Here, sir. Are you ready? Just give me your directions. All right, sir, +we're off." + +Shirley grunted and the hydroplane sped out onto the river, in a big +curve, as he directed. Like a white ghost on the river was the trim +yacht, which even now could be seen speeding down the stream, all steam +up. There were two toots on the whistle and Shirley feared that his man +had boarded her. But the hydroplane, ploughing through the cold waves, +whizzed toward the yacht, as he climbed out to the small flat stern. A +small boat had swung close to the yacht now. A ladder had been lowered +from a spar, while a man standing in the little craft missed it. The +yacht was gliding past the boat, when another rope ladder was deftly +swung over the stern. + +The hydroplane was close up now, and Shirley saw his prey dangling at +the end of the ladder, now in the water, struggling with the rungs of +the ladder, and now being drawn up. + +His engineer, with a skilful hand on the helm, swung in close to the +yacht, as keen for the capture as his patron. They whizzed past at +almost railroad speed, and Shirley, sprang toward the ladder. His arms +closed about the body of Reginald Warren in a grip which he braced by a +curious finger-lock he had learned in wrestling practice. + +Two revolvers barked over the taffrail of the yacht, as the hydroplane +raced onward, dragging Shirley and his prisoner at the end of the rope, +through the water. Again the shots rang out, but they were out of range, +on the dark waters so quickly, that before the police boat had set +out from shore to investigate the firing from the pleasure vessel, the +criminologist's struggle with his wounded antagonist was over. + +Half drowned, himself, with Warren completely past consciousness, +Shirley was pulled into his own boat as the engines were slowed down. +They returned rapidly to the dock. + +"Help me work him--that was a pretty rough yank. He's been shot in the +hand already." + +They rolled Warren on a barrel, "pumped" his arms, and by the time the +Cronin automobile had returned with the other detectives, Warren was +restored to understanding again. Shirley forced some liquor between his +teeth, to be greeted with a torrent of strange oaths. + +"The jig is up, Warren," said the criminologist. "As a chess-player +in the little game, you are a wonder. But, I think I may at last call +'Checkmate.'" + +"I'm not dead yet, Shirley," hissed Warren. "I gave you your chance to +keep out of this. But you wouldn't take it. I'll settle the score with +you before I'm finished. There's one man in the world who knows how to +get away from bars. I'm that man." + +Then his teeth snapped together with a click. He said nothing more that +night, even during the operation for probing Shirley's bullet, and the +painful dressing. At the station-house, and his arraignment before the +magistrate at Night Court, where he saw some other familiar faces of +his fellow gangsters--now rounded up on the same charges--he still +maintained that feline silence. + +And his eyes never left the face of Montague Shirley, as long as that +calm young man was in sight! + +Shirley merely presented his charge of murder--for the strangling of +Shine Taylor. The names of the aged millionaires were not brought into +the matter--there was no need. He had done his work well. + +At Cronin's agency, late that night, there came a cablegram from the +greatest detective bureau of France. + +"The Montfleury case" was the most daring robbery and sale of state war +secrets ever perpetrated in Paris. It had been successful, despite the +capture, and conviction of the criminal, Laschlas Rozi, a Hungarian +adventurer who had killed three men to carry his point. The scoundrel +had escaped after murdering his prison guard, and wearing his clothes +out of the gaol. A reward of 100,000 francs had been offered for his +capture, by the Department of Justice. + +"Monty, who gets all the credit for this little deal--that's what's +bothering me?" asked Captain Cronin, as they sipped a toast of rare old +port, in his rear office. + +Shirley lit the ubiquitous cigarette, and tilted back in his chair. + +"Captain: why ask foolish questions? This case ought to buy you five or +six of those big farms you've been planning about--and leave you fifty +thousand dollars with which to pay the damages for being a gentleman +farmer." + +"And you, Monty? You know you never have to present a bill with me. What +will you do with your pin money?" + +"I'm going down on Fifth Avenue tomorrow and invest it in a solitaire +ring, for a very small finger." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION + + +Shirley made some investigations in a private reading room of the +Public Library: there was much good treasure there, not salable over the +counter of a grocery store, mayhap, but unusually valuable in the high +grade work which was his specialty. In an old volume enumerating the +noble families of Austro-Hungary he found two distinguished lines, +"Laschlas" and "Rozi." + +From the library he went to a cable office where he sent a message to +the chief of police of Budapesth inquiring about the remaining members +of the families. The old volume in the library was thirty-four years +behind the times: it was the only record obtainable in America. + +After a couple of hours, which he devote to some personal matters, he +received a response to his inquiry. When translated from the Hungarian +it read thus: + +"Professor Montague Shirley, College Club, N.Y., U.S.A. + +Families extinct except Countess Laschlas, and son Count Rozi Laschlas, +reported killed in Albanian revolution. + + Csherkini, Minister of Justice." + +The criminologist was happy. Here was a weapon which he had not yet +used. Now he turned his steps towards the Tombs, for an interview with +the prisoner. + +After some parley with the warden, he was admitted for a visit to +Reginald Warren. That gentleman's fury was rekindled at the sight of +the club man who had been so instrumental in his downfall. But a cunning +smile played over the features of the criminal. + +"So, you have come to gloat over your work, Shirley? Well, it is a game +two can play." + +"Yes? I am always interested in sport. I came to see if there was +anything I could do for you in your confinement," was the unruffled +reply. + +"You will be busy with your own affairs," retorted Warren. "I have been +busy writing my confession. Here is the manuscript. I will baffle all +your efforts to hush up the affairs of the 'Lobster Club.' Furthermore, +my confession," (and he exultantly waved a mass of manuscript at his +visitor,) "will send young Van Cleft to prison for perjury on the +certificate of his father's death. Captain Cronin, that prince of +blockheads, will share the same fate. Professor MacDonald, who I know +very well signed the death certificates, will be disgraced and driven +from professional standing. You will be implicated in this plot to +thwart justice. With the German university thoroughness to which you so +sarcastically referred, I have written down the facts as carefully as +though I were preparing a thesis for a doctor's degree!" + +He laughed maliciously, studying the effect of his words. He was +disappointed. Shirley's bland manner changed not a whit. Instead the +criminologist offered him a cigarette. + +"You might as well smoke now--as later!" and there was a wealth of +innuendo in the emphasis. "Is that all you are going to do, to square +your accounts?" + +"By no means! As my trump card, I have implicated Miss Helene Marigold +in the various exploits which have been so successful now. She is +unknown in New York--I investigated that matter. She will have a fine +task in proving an alibi, after the careful preparation I have made. In +fact, I accuse her of being the mistress of my dead con'federate--" + +Shirley sprang to his feet, and the rage which was shown in his strong +features brought a leer to the face of the other. + +"Strike me," continued the tormentor. "All I have to do is to call the +guard. I have been busy thinking since they locked me up here. There is +nothing more to do to me than the electric chair--but, I am not finished +yet." + +The criminologist controlled himself with difficulty. He realized that +an altercation with the prisoner would shatter his whole case, like a +house of cards blown down by a vagrant breeze. He sat down again, the +mask of calm indifference playing over his features. + +"And what then?" + +"Is not that sufficient to interest you? It will be another month before +my trial, and my literary work has just begun. The newspapers are filled +with war news, which have ceased to be a nine days' wonder. I shall +provide them with material which will be the story of the age! Another +month, and then?" + +The prisoner lit the cigarette which he had accepted, and stretched back +in the plain wooden chair to enjoy the misery of his victim. + +"But, a month--let me see? That would enable me to do some corresponding +myself, wouldn't it?" and Shirley took out a memorandum book. "You have +degraded a splendid intellect, a gallant spirit and brought disgrace +upon yourself, for this miserable ending. You have ruthlessly murdered +others, caring naught for the misery and wretchedness of those left +behind. Has it been worth it all, Warren?" + +The other's eyes twinkled, as he nodded. + +"A wonderful game. And I haven't completed the score, even now." + +"You are right, Warren. There is one soul more whom you have not +affected. It is too bad that you were not killed in the Albanian +revolution,--then you would have been on record as a hero instead of the +vilest scoundrel in Christendom." + +Had the death-dealing current of the electric chair been turned upon +Warren he could not have been more startled, as he sprang up. His +pallid face seemed to turn a sickly green, as his dark eyes opened in +galvanized amazement. + +"Albanian--what do you mean? I never saw Albania!" + +"You will never see it again. You will never see Budapesth again, +either," was the menacing continuation of the criminologist's methodical +speech. "But a very old lady, the Countess Laschlas, will see the +accounts of her son's wretched death, in the New York papers which will +be sent to her, in care of the American consul!" + +It was merely a deductive guess: but the shot struck the center of +the bull's-eye. Warren, alias Count Laschlas, staggered back, and his +nervous fingers touched the chilling surface of the stone wall. He +dropped his eyes, and then strove to regain his nonchalance. It was a +pitiable failure. + +"Just as you have dealt to the children of others, so will you deal +with your own mother, the last of a distinguished line of aristocrats. +I swear, by the memory of my own dead parents, that I will avenge the +misery you have given to the innocent. The good Book says, the sins of +the fathers shall be visited upon the children even unto the third and +the fourth generation. But life to-day has taught me that the sins of +the children are visited upon the fathers and the mothers--especially, +the sweet, loving, trusting mothers! As I value my honor, Reginald +Warren, or Count Rozi, I will see to it that your mother shall know +every detail of the whole miserable career of her son. That is my answer +to your alleged confession. If there is a hereafter, from which you may +observe that which follows your death, you will be able to see through +eternity the earthly punishment which has been visited upon the one +person whom you love and respect." + +The criminal's ashen face was buried in his hands. + +Great sobs emanated from his white lips, as his shoulders heaved in a +paroxysm. + +Shirley had struck the Achilles tendon--the hardest wretch in the world +had one, as he knew! + +"Oh--oh--" he moaned, "the poor little mutter. She has forgiven so much, +suffered so much. You can't do it. You won't do it!" He fell to his +knees, clawing at the criminologist's garments with his trembling hands, +the tears streaming down his face. + +"What about those who have seen no compassion from you?" cried Shirley +in a terrible voice. "Your vanity, your self-worship! Do they not +comfort you now? This is only the suffering of another which you +contemplate! Why all these hysterics?" + +Warren, groveling on the floor of the reception-room, was a picture +of abject, horrid soul-torture. At last, through the subtlety of this +unconventional sleuth, along methods which were never dreamed of in the +ordinary police category, he had been broken on the wheel which he had +himself so cunningly constructed! + +"And if that mother dies, cursing your memory with her last breath, +cursing the love of the father, of her husband, of the ancestors, all +responsible for your being in the world today, what will you think, when +you watch from the other side of that great unseen wall?" + +"Oh, Shirley! I can't. See--I'll destroy this stuff. I'll keep silent +about the others. I mean it. Here: I tear it up now and give you the +pieces to burn!" + +Warren, maddened by his fears, nervously tore the sheets into bits and +pressed the remnants into the criminologist's hands. + +"Will you promise to keep my identity a secret?" + +"I will not send word to Budapesth. You have a bad record in Paris, +and other parts of the world. But, if you play fair on the confidential +nature of this case, saving the innocent from disgrace and shame, I will +see that the story never reaches your mother. There is no need to ask +this on your honor--that does not count." + +Warren winced at this final thrust. He turned toward Shirley, eagerly. + +"You don't understand me at that, Shirley. I have had a curious career. +Somewhere I inherited a strain of criminality--you know how many +ancestors a man has in ten generations. I was a member of a poor but +prominent family. The government paid for my education in the best +universities of Europe, for I was to hold a position under the Emperor, +which had been held in my family for generations. But I was ruined by +the extravagances and the excesses which I learned from the rich young +men whom I met. I studied feverishly, yet was able to waste much time +with the gilded fools, by my ability to learn more quickly. The result +was that I could not be contented with the small salary of my government +office. I had to keep up appearances with my companions. So, I drifted +into gambling, into sharp tricks--then became a mercenary soldier, +an officer, in the continuous revolutions of the southeastern part of +Europe. I sank deeper and at last, in one serious escapade, I managed to +have myself reported dead, so as to quiet the heartaches of my mother, +who believed I was killed on the battlefield. There is the miserable +story--or all I will tell. They caught me in Paris and a girl betrayed +part of my name--fortunately they did not hunt me up, so my mother +was saved that disgrace. Will you keep the secret now, on our +understanding?" + +"I give you my word for that, Warren." Shirley rose, putting the torn-up +papers into his pockets. "I am sorry for the past--but you have made the +present for yourself. Good-bye." + +Warren returned to his cell and the detective to the club house. + +There he found an additional cable message. It said: "Countess Laschlas +has been dead ten months." It was signed like the other. + +Shirley tore up the message, and blinked more than seemed necessary. + +"Poor little old lady, she knows it all now. I will not have to tell +her." + + * * * + +That afternoon Shirley called again at the Hotel California for Helene. + +"I want you to go to a sweet, old-fashioned English tea-room, where I +may tell you the rest of the story. There will be no tango music, no +cymbals, no tinkling cocktails, nor, champagne. Can you pour real tea?" + +"I am an English girl. I have been five days without it." + +As they were ensconced at the quaint little table, he realized how +wondrously blended in her was that triad of feminine essential spirits: +the eternal mother instinct, the sensuous strength of the wife-love and +the wistful allurement of maiden tenderness. + +"Does my great big boy wish three lumps of sugar, after his hard tasks?" + +"He'll die in the flower of immaturity if he has too many sweets in one +day." + +He drew out his memorandum book, opening it to a closely-written page. + +"Before the confections, I must hand in my report to the commanding +officer." + +"Advance three paces to the front, and hand over the details," and she +added another lump of sugar, with a mischievous twinkle in the blue +eyes. + +"Very well, excellency. We transcribed the addresses of Warren's +gangsters from his note-book, and they have all been arrested. The men +we captured in the earlier skirmishes are all languishing in the tombs, +as accomplices in his crime, as well as for their attempts against my +own life. You will be astonished, Helene, at the revelations of his +operations as shown by his bank-books, a translation of that diary and +some of the letters which I took when I burglarized his rooms. I have +sent a code letter to Phil, advising him to confess all, and that +man's testimony adds to the corroboration. I went down to the District +Attorney with a full statement of the facts, leaving nothing unbared. +Like me, he agreed that it were best to let the law take its course, +demanding the full penalty, and saving the honor of a dozen families +who would have been dragged into the case, had not Warren laid himself +liable by the murder of his confederate, Taylor. That young man was an +electrical genius--with his brains misguided by his equally misdirected +employer. There is no chance of a miscarriage of justice, and Warren had +accumulated so much money that many of the victims of his organization +can be reimbursed in full." + +"You have handled all this with a suspicious skill for a lazy society +man, with no experience in such matters." + +Shirley understood the subtle sarcasm of the remark, but he proceeded +unruffled, to lull her suspicious. + +"I only tried to cover the points which meant happiness and peace of +mind to others. It was merely a matter of common or garden horse sense, +as we call it in America. Warren has been systematically robbing the +rich men of New York for three years, under various subterfuges. No +wonder he could afford such gorgeous collections of art, keeping aloof +from his associates in crime. His treasures, like those in many European +museums were bought with blood. It is curious how a complex case like +this smooths itself out so simply when the key is obtained. And you, +Helene, have been the genius to supply that key: my own work has been +merely corroborative!" + +He looked at the delicate features of the girl, remembering with a +recurring thrill the margin by which they had escaped death in the +cellar den of the conspirators. + +"Cleary and Dick Holloway told me how cleverly you led the men to the +Somerset where you followed my trail through the mole's passage. It was +a frightful risk for you to take: Cleary should have had more sense and +led the way himself." + +Helene's lips pursed themselves into a tempting pout. + +"Are you not happier that it was I, at that supreme moment?" + +"Indeed I am: success was all the sweeter. There is remaining only one +mystery which I must admit is still unsolved in this curious affair. And +that is you. Who are you?" + +She parried with the same question. + +"I know your name, sir, but you profess to be a society butterfly, +flitting from pleasure to dissipation, and back again. Tell me the +truth, now, if ever." + +"Why--gracious, Helene--of all the foolish questions!" He was adorably +boyish in his confusion. She laughed gleefully, like a happy schoolgirl. + +"Then, Monty Shirley, my score is better than yours, for I have every +mystery cleared. But while I know all about you, what frightful chances +you are taking with me!" + +Shirley reddened, as he burned his finger with the match which had been +raised to the end of his cigarette. He accused her of teasing, and she +glanced happily at the iridiscent solitaire upon the third finger of her +left hand. + +"Dear boy, I realize that I understand about you what you cannot fathom +with me. You are not a moth, but your self-sacrifice, and bravery in +this case are professional: you worked on this case as you have on +a hundred others: you are a very original and successful expert +in criminology. And I am not more than half bad at observation and +deduction, myself; now, am I, dear?" + +Shirley gracefully admitted defeat, with a question: "Who are you, +Helene? And who is dear old Jack?" + +The roses blossomed in her cheeks as she answered: "Jack is a very +sweet boy, ten years older than you in gray hair and the calendar, and +infinitely younger in worldly wisdom and intellect. He is an English +army officer, who was foolish enough to imagine he loved me, foolish +enough to propose every three days for the last three years and foolish +enough to bore me until in self-defense I escaped from his clutches. As +for myself, at least I am not the young woman who can stand staying in +that gaudy theatrical hotel for another day longer. I have done so many +bold, unmaidenly things that you may believe it easy for me. It is not. + +"I am truly a horrid, old-time, hoopskirt-minded prude. My first act of +domestic tyranny is to make you find a sedate, prim place for my work +and play, where I may know my own blushes when I see them in the mirror, +and will have less occasion to deserve them!" + +"Your work? What is that?" + +"It is very hard work--with a typewriter, but not in code. I will not +divulge my name until we tell it to the marriage license clerk. But Dick +Holloway knows me, and I came to this country, partly to see him. I +have written a few plays, which simple as they were, seemed to interest +European audiences and critics. Some of my novels have strangely enough +brought in royalties, despite the publishers! But, I became satiated +with life in England and on the Continent. I came here because I felt +that I needed life in a younger and newer country. I needed an emotional +and physical awakening." + +"You have not wasted any time in drowsiness since you reached America." + +"No--and all because I went to Holloway's office that fateful morning, +before I saw any one else in New York, to ask about a play which he is +to produce this spring. I confess that it was my first experience as an +actress. Will you forgive my deception?" + +Shirley nodded, as he studied the animated face with a new interest. He +admitted to himself that Holloway's prediction had come true--he had met +his match. + +"And so, my dear Helene (for such I shall always call you, whether your +really, truly name be Mehitabel, Samantha or Sophronisa) you came +here, went through all these horrors without a complaint, crushing +the independence of my confirmed bachelorhood for the sake of what we +newspaper men call copy?" + +Helene nodded demurely. + +"Yes, but it was such wonderful 'copy,' Monty boy." + +The criminologist scowled over his cigarette, yet he could not feel as +unhappy as he felt this defeat should make him. + +"When will the 'copy' be ready for publication, my dear girl. It would +be most interesting, I fancy." + +Helene caught his hand, drawing it toward her throbbing heart. Her wet +lips were almost touching his ear, as she confided, whisperingly, +with the blue eyes averted: "Only published in editions de luxe: some +bindings will be with blue ribbons, some with pink. All of them with +flexible backs and gloriously illumined by the Master's brush. The +authors' autographs will be on every copy to prove the collaboration, +and every volume will be a poem in itself.... But there, Montague dear, +I am a novelist--not a fortune-teller!" + +"How can I forecast the exact dates of publication?" + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Voice on the Wire, by Eustace Hale Ball + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOICE ON THE WIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 5672.txt or 5672.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/7/5672/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +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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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Voice on the Wire + +Author: Eustace Hale Ball + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5672] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on August 7, 2002] +[Date last updated: July 10, 2004] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOICE ON THE WIRE *** + + + + + + + + +THE VOICE ON THE WIRE + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WHEN THREE IS A MYSTERY + + + +"Mr. Shirley is waiting for you in the grill-room, sir. Just +step this way, sir, and down the stairs." + +The large man awkwardly followed the servant to the cosey +grill-room on the lower floor of the club house. He felt that +every man of the little groups about the Flemish tables must be +saying: "What's he doing here?" + +"I wish Monty Shirley would meet me once in a while in the back +room of a ginmill, where I'd feel comfortable," muttered the +unhappy visitor. "This joint is too classy. But that's his game +to play--" + +He reached the sought-for one, however, and exclaimed eagerly: +"By Jiminy, Monty. I'm glad to find you--it would have been my +luck after this day, to get here too late." + +He was greeted with a grip that made even his generous hand +wince, as the other arose to smile a welcome. + +"Hello, Captain Cronin. You're a good sight for a grouchy man's +eyes! Sit down and confide the brand of your particular favorite +poison to our Japanese Dionysius!" + +The Captain sighed with relief, as he obeyed. + +"Bar whiskey is good enough for an old timer like me. Don't +tell me you have the blues--your face isn't built that way!" + +"Gospel truth, Captain. I've been loafing around this club +--nothing to do for a month. Bridge, handball, highballs, and +yarns! I'm actually a nervous wreck because my nerves haven't +had any work to do!" + +"You're the healthiest invalid I've seen since the hospital days +in the Civil War. But don't worry about something to do. I've +some job now. It's dolled up with all them frills you like: +millions, murders and mysteries! If this don't keep you awake, +you'll have nightmares for the next six months. Do you want it?" + +"I'm tickled to death. Spill it!" + +"Monty, it's the greatest case my detective agency has had since +I left the police force eleven years ago. It's too big for me, +and I've come to you to do a stunt as is a stunt. You will plug +it for me, won't you--just as you've always done? If I get the +credit, it'll mean a fortune to me in the advertising alone." + +"Haven't I handled every case for you in confidence. I'm not a +fly-cop, Captain Cronin. I'm a consulting specialist, and +there's no shingle hung out. Perhaps you had better take it to +some one else." + +Shirley pushed away his empty glass impatiently. + +"There, Monty, I didn't mean to offend you. But there's such +swells in this and such a foxey bunch of blacklegs, that I'm as +nervous as a rookie cop on his first arrest. Don't hold a grudge +against me." + +Shirley lit a cigarette and resumed his good nature: "Go on, +Captain. I'm so stale with dolce far niente, after the Black +Pearl affair last month, that I act like an amateur myself. Make +it short, though, for I'm going to the opera." + +The Captain leaned over the table, his face tense with suppressed +emotion. He was a grizzled veteran of the New York police force: +a man who sought his quarry with the ferocity of a bull-dog, when +the line of search was definitely assured. Lacking imagination +and the subtler senses of criminology, Captain Cronin had built +up a reputation for success and honesty in every assignment by +bravery, persistence, and as in this case, the ability to cover +his own deductive weakness by employing the brains of others. + +Montague Shirley was as antithetical from the veteran detective +as a man could well be. A noted athlete in his university, he +possessed a society rating in New York, at Newport and Tuxedo, +and on the Continent which was the envy of many a gilded youth +born to the purple. + +On leaving college, despite an ample patrimony, he had curiously +enough entered the lists as a newspaper man. From the sporting +page he was graduated to police news, then the city desk, at last +closing his career as the genius who invented the weekly Sunday +thriller, in many colors of illustration and vivacious Gallic +style which interpreted into heart throbs and goose-flesh the +real life romances and tragedies of the preceding six days! He +had conquered the paper-and-ink world--then deep within there +stirred the call for participation in the game itself. + +So, dropping quietly into the apparently indolent routine of club +existence, he had devoted his experience and genius to analytical +criminology--a line of endeavor known only to five men in the +world. + +He maintained no offices. He wore no glittering badges: a police +card, a fire badge, and a revolver license, renewed year after +year, were the only instruments of his trade ever in evidence. +Shirley took assignments only from the heads of certain agencies, +by personal arrangement as informal as this from Captain Cronin. +His real clients never knew of his participation, and his prey +never understood that he had been the real head-hunter! + +His fees--Montague Shirley, as a master craftsman deemed his +artistry worthy of the hire. His every case meant a modest +fortune to the detective agency and Shirley's bills were never +rendered, but always paid! + +So, here, the hero of the gridiron and the class re-union, +the gallant of a hundred pre-matrimonial and non-maturing +engagements, the veteran of a thousand drolleries and merry +jousts in clubdom--unspoiled by birth, breeding and wealth, +untrammeled by the juggernaut of pot-boiling and the +salary-grind, had drifted into the curious profession of +confidential, consulting criminal chaser. + +Shirley unostentatiously signaled for an encore on the +refreshments. + +"You're nervous to-night, Captain. You've been doing things +before you consulted me--which is against our Rule Number One, +isn't it?" + +The Captain gulped down his whiskey, and rubbed his forehead. + +"Couldn't help it, Monty. It got too busy for me, before I +realized anything unusual in the case. See what I got from a +gangster before I landed here." + +He turned his close-cropped head, as Montague Shirley leaned +forward to observe an abrasion at the base of his skull. It +was dressed with a coating of collodion. + +"Brass knuckled--I see the mark of the rings. Tried for the +pneumogastric nerves, to quiet you." + +"Whatever he tried for he nearly got. Kelly's nightstick got +his pneumonia gas jet, or whatever you call it. He's still +quiet, in the station house--You know old man Van Cleft, who +owns sky-scrapers down town, don't you?--Well, he's the center +of this flying wedge of excitement. His family are fine people, +I understand. His daughter was to be married next week. Monty, +that wedding'll be postponed, and old Van Cleft won't worry over +dispossess papers for his tenants for the rest of the winter. +See?" + +"Killed?" + +"Correct. He's done, and I had a hell of a time getting the body +home, before the coroner and the police reporters got on the +trail." + +Shirley lowered his high-ball glass, with an earnest stare. + +"What was the idea?" + +"Robbery, of course. His son had me on the case--'phoned from +the garage where the chauffeur brought the body; after he saw the +old man unconscious. Just half an hour before he had left his +office in the same machine, after taking five thousand dollars in +cash from his manager." + +"Who was with him?" + +"Now, that's getting to brass tacks. When I gets that C.Q.D. +from Van Cleft, I finds the young fellow inside the ring of +rubbernecks, blubbering over the old man, where he lies on the +floor of the taxi--looking soused." + +"He was a notorious old sport about town, Captain." + +"Sure--and I thinks, it sorter serves him right. But, that's his +funeral, not mine. Van Cleft, junior, says to me: 'There's the +girl that was with him.'" + +"Where was the girl?" + +"She was sitting on a stool, near the car, a little blonde chorus +chicken, shaking and twitching, while the chauffeur and the +garage boss held her up. I says, 'What's this?' and Van Cleft +tells me all he knows, which ain't nothing. Them guys in that +garage was wise, for it meant a cold five hundred apiece before I +left to keep their lids closed. Van Cleft begs me to hustle the +old man home, so one of my men takes her down to my office, still +a sniffling, and acting like she had the D.T.'s. The young +fellow shook like a leaf, but we takes him over to Central Park +East, to the family mansion,--carrying him up the steps like he +was drunk. We gets him into his own bed, and keeps the sister +from touching his clammy hands, while she orders the family +doctor. When he gets there on the jump, I gives him the wink and +leads him to one side. 'Doc,' I says, 'you know how to write out +a death certificate, to hush this up from your end. I've done +the rest.'" + +Captain Cronin leaned forward, a queer excitement agitating him. + +"Do you know what that doctor says to me, Monty?" + +Shirley shook his head. + +He says; "My God, it's the third!" + +Shirley's white hand gripped the edge of the table. "The Van +Cleft's doctor is one of the greatest surgeons in the country, +Professor MacDonald of the Medical College. He said that?" + +"He did. I answers, 'Whadd'y mean the third?' Then he looks me +straight in the eye, and sings back, 'None of your business.'" +Cronin shook his head. "I never seen a man with a squarer look, +and yet he has me guessing. I goes back to the garage, over past +Eighth Avenue, you know, where two johns come up along side o' +me. One rubs me with his elbow and the other applies that brass +knuckle,--then they gets pinched. I got dressed up in a drug +store, got the chauffeur's license number, and goes on down to my +office to see this girl. She's hysterical about his family using +all their money to put her in jail. I looks at her, and says, +'You won't need their money to get to jail. That old man's +dead!' Her eyes was as big as saucers. 'I thought old Daddy Van +Cleft was drunk.' I tells her, 'He was dead in that taxi, with a +chorus girl, and a roll of bills gone. What you got to say?' +She staggers forward and clutches my coat, and what do you think +SHE says to me?" + +Shirley made the inquiry only with his eyes, puffing his +cigarette slowly. + +"She looks sorter green, and repeats after me: 'Dead, with a +chorus girl, and a roll of bills gone,'--just like a parrot. +Then she springs this on me: 'My God, it's the third!'" + +Shirley dropped his cigarette, leaning forward, all nonchalance +gone. + +"Where is she now? Quick, let's go to her." + +He rose to his feet. Just then a door-boy walked through the +grill-room toward him. "A telephone call for Captain Cronin, +sir; the party said hurry or he would miss something good." + +Shirley snapped out, "When has the rule about telephone calls in +this club been changed? You boys are never to tell any one that +a member or guest are here until the name is announced." + +He turned toward the puzzled Captain. + +"Did you ask any of your operatives to call you here? You know +what a risk you are taking, to connect me with this case like +that, don't you?" + +"I never even breathed it to myself. I told no one." + +"Follow me up to the telephone room." + +Shirley hurried through the grill, to the switchboard, near which +stood the booths for private calls. He called to one of the +operators. "Here, let me at that switchboard." He pushed the +boy aside, and sat down in the vacated chair. + +"Which trunk is it on? Oh, I see, the second. There Captain, +take the fourth booth against the wall." + +Cronin stepped in. Shirley connected up and listened with the +transmitter of the operator at his ear, holding the line open. + +"Go ahead, here's Captain Cronin!" + +A pleasant voice came over the wire. It was musical and sincere. + +"Hello, Captain Cronin, is that you?" + +"Yes! What do you want?" + +The voice continued, with a jolly laugh, ringing and infectious +in its merriment. + +"Well, Captain, the joke's on you. Ha, ha, ha! It's a bully +one! Ho, ho! Ha, ha!" + +"What joke?" + +"You're working on the Van Cleft case. Oh, sure, you are, don't +kid me back. Well, Captain, you've missed two other perfectly +good grafts. This is the third one!" + +There was a click and the speaker, with another merry gurgle, +rang off. + +"Quick, manager's desk," cried Shirley, jiggling the metal key. +"What call was that? Where did it come from?" + +After a little wait, a languid voice answered: "Brooklyn, Main +6969, Party C." + +"Give me the number again--I want to speak on the wire." + +After another delay, the voice replied "The line has been +discontinued." + +"I just had it! What is the name of the subscriber. Hurry, this +is a matter of life and death." + +"It's against the rules to give any further information. But our +record shows that the house burned down about two weeks ago. No +one else has been given the number. There's no instrument +there!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE FLEETING PROMPTER + + +Monty's puzzled smile was in no wise reciprocated by the Captain, +whose red face evidenced a growing resentment. + +He began a tirade, but a wink from the club man warned him. +Shirley replaced the receiver, and the regular attendant resumed +his place at the switchboard. The lad was curious at the unusual +ability of the wealthy Mr. Shirley to handle the bewildering maze +of telephone attachments. Monty explained, as he turned to go +upstairs. + +"Son, that was one of my smart friends trying to play a practical +joke on my guest. I fooled him. Don't let it happen again, +until you send in the party's name first." + +"Yes, sir," meekly promised the boy. + +"Well, Captain Cronin, as the old paperback novels used to say at +the end of the first instalment, 'The Plot thickens!' At first +I thought this case of stupid badger game--" + +"You aren't going to back out, Monty? Here's a whole gang of +crooks which would give you some sport rounding up, and as for +money--" + +"Money is easy, from both sides of a criminal matter. What +interests me is that ghostly telephone call from a house that +burned down, and the caller's knowledge of Number Three. I'm in +this case, have no fear of that." + +Shirley led his guest to the coat room. + +"I'll get a taxicab, Monty. We'd better see that girl first and +then have a look at the body." + +The Captain turned to the door, as the attendant helped Monty +with his overcoat. The waiter from the grill-room approached. +"Excuse me, sir, but the gentleman dropped his handkerchief in +his chair opposite you." + +"Thank you, Gordon," he said, as he faced the servant for an +instant. When he turned again, toward the front hall, the +Captain had passed out of view through the front door. + +Shirley received a surprise when he reached the pavement on +Forty-fourth Street, for Captain Cronin was not in sight. Two +club men descended the steps of the neighboring house. Others +strolled along toward the Avenue, but not a sign of a vehicle of +any description could be seen, nor was there anything suspicious +in view. Cronin had disappeared as effectually as though he had +taken a passing Zeppelin! + +"I'm glad this affair will not bore me," murmured the +criminologist, as he evolved and promptly discarded a dozen vain +theories to explain the disappearance of his companion. + +Twenty minutes were wasted along the block, as he waited for some +sight or sign. Then he decided to go on up to Van Cleft's +residence. But, realizing the probability of "shadow" work upon +all who came from the door of the club, after the curious message +on the wire, Shirley did not propose to expose his hand. Walking +leisurely to the Avenue, he hailed a passing hansom. He directed +the driver to carry him to an address on Central Park West. His +shrewdness was not wasted, for as he stepped into the vehicle, he +espied a slinking figure crossing the street diagonally before +him, to disappear into the shadow of an adjacent doorway. This +was the house of Reginald Van Der Voor, as Shirley knew. It was +closed because its master, a social acquaintance of the club +man's, was at this time touring the Orient in his steam yacht. +No man should have entered that doorway. So, as the horse +started under the flick of the long whip, Shirley peered +unobserved through the glass window at his side. + +A big machine swung up behind the hansom, at some unseen hail, +and the figure came from the doorway, leaping into the car, as it +followed Shirley up the Avenue, a block or so behind. + +"It is not always so easy to follow, when the leader knows his +chase," thought Shirley. "I'm glad I'm only a simple club man." + +The automobile was unmistakably trailing him, as the hansom +crossed the Plaza, then sped through the Park drive, to the +address he had given his driver. + +As Shirley had remembered, this was a large apartment house, in +which one of his bachelor friends lived. He knew the lay of the +building well: next door, with an entrance facing on the side +street was another just like it, and of equal height. + +"Wait for me, here," said Shirley. "I'll pay you now, but want +to go to an address down town in five minutes." + +He gave the driver a bill, then entered and told the elevator man +to take him to the ninth floor. + +"There's nobody in, boss," began the boy. But Shirley shook his +head. + +"My friend is expecting me for a little card game, that's why you +think he is out. Just take me up." + +He handed the negro a quarter, which was complete in its logic. + +As he reached the floor, he waved to the elevator operator. "Go +on down, and don't let any one else come up, for Mr. Greenough +doesn't want company." + +As the car slid down, Shirley fumbled along the familiar hall to +the iron stairs which led to the roof of the building. Up these +he hurried, thence out upon the roof. It was a matter of only +four minutes before he had crossed to the next apartment +building, opened the door of the roof-entry, found the stairs to +the ninth floor, and taken this elevator to the street. + +He walked out of the building, and turned toward Central Park +West, to slyly observe the entrance of the building where waited +the faithful hansom Jehu. A young man was in conversation with +the driver, and the big automobile could be seen on the other +side of the street awaiting further developments. + +"He has a long vigil there," laughed Shirley. "Now, for the real +address. I think I lost the hounds for this time." + +Another vehicle took him through the Park to the darkened mansion +of the Van Clefts'. Here, Shirley's card brought a quick +response from the surprised son of the dead millionaire. + +"Why--why--I'm glad to see you, Mr. Shirley--Who sent you?" he +began. + +Shirley registered complete surprise. "Sent me, my dear Van +Cleft? Who should send me? For what? It just happened that I +was walking up the Avenue, and to-morrow night I plan to give a +little farewell supper to Hal Bingley, class of '03, at the club +You knew him in College? I thought you might like to come." + +"Step in the library," requested Van Cleft, weakly. "Sit down, +Mr. Shirley--I'm upset to-night." + +He mopped his brow with a damp handkerchief, and Shirley's big +heart went out to the young chap, as he saw the haggard lines +of horror and grief on his usually pleasant face. + +"What's the trouble, old man? Anything I can do?" + +"My father just died this evening, and I'm in awful trouble--I +thought it was the Coroner, or the police--" he bit his tongue as +the last words escaped him. Shirley put his hand on Van Cleft's +shoulder, with an inspiring firmness. + +"Tell me how I can help. You've had a big shock. Confide in me, +and I pledge you my word, I'll keep it safer than any one you +could go to." + +Van Cleft groped as a drowning man, at this opportunity. He +caught Shirley's hand and wrung it tensely. + +"Sit down. The doctor is still upstairs with mother and sister. +When the Coroner comes, I would like to have you be here as a +witness. It's an ordeal--I'll tell you everything." + +Shirley listened attentively, without betraying his own +knowledge. Soothing in manner, he questioned the son about any +possible enemy of the murdered man. + +"There's not one I know. Dad is popular--he's been too gay, +lately, but just foolish like a lot of rich men. He wouldn't +harm any one. He inherited his money, you know. Didn't have to +crush the working people. Like me, he's been endeavoring to +spend it ever since he was born, but it comes in too fast from +our estates." + +He looked up apprehensively, at the sympathetic face of his +companion. + +"It's very unwise to tell this. I suppose it's a State's prison +offence to deceive about murder. But you understand our +position: we can't afford to let it become gossip. I'll pay this +girl anything to go to Europe or the Antipodes!" + +"I wouldn't do that," suggested Shirley, thoughtfully. "Let her +stay. You would like to bring the culprit to justice, if it can +be done without dragging your name into it. If he has planned +this, he has executed other schemes. She certainly would not +remain the machine if she were the guilty one. Why not employ a +good detective?" + +"I did, but hesitated to tell you. I secured Captain Cronin, of +the Holland Agency. He's managed everything so far--I was too +rattled myself. But, I wonder why he isn't here now? He was to +return as soon as he visited the garage." + +As Van Cleft spoke, the butler approached with hesitation. + +"Beg pardon, sir. But you are wanted on the telephone, sir." + +"All right, Hoskins. Connect it with the library instrument." + +Van Cleft lifted the receiver nervously, and answered in an +unsteady voice. + +"Yes--This is Van Cleft's residence." + +Silence for a bit, then the wire was busy. + +"What's that? Captain Cronin? What about him? Let me speak to +him." + +Shirley was alert as a cat. Van Cleft was too dazed to +understand his sudden move, as the criminologist caught up the +receiver, and placed his palm for an instant over the mouthpiece. + +"Ask him to say it again--that you didn't understand." Shirley +removed his hand, and obeyed. Shirley held the receiver to his +ear, as the young man spoke. Then he heard these curious words: +"You poor simp, you'd better get that family doctor of yours to +give you some ear medicine, and stop wasting time with the death +certificate. I told you that Cronin was over in Bellevue +Hospital with a fractured skull. Unless you drop this +investigating, you'll get one, too. Ta, ta! Old top!" + +The receiver was hung up quickly at the other end of the line. + +Shirley gave a quick call for "Information," and after several +minutes learned that the call came from a drug store pay-station +in Jersey City! + +The melodious tones were unmistakably those of the speaker who +had used the wire from faraway Brooklyn where the house had been +burned down! It was a human impossibility for any one to have +covered the distance between the two points in this brief time, +except in an aeroplane! + +Van Cleft wondered dumbly at his companion's excitement. Shirley +caught up the telephone again. + +"Some one says that Cronin is at Bellevue Hospital, injured. +I'll find out." + +It was true. Captain Cronin was lying at point of death, the +ward nurse said, in answer to his eager query. At first the +ambulance surgeon had supposed him to be drunk, for a patrolman +had pulled him out of a dark doorway, unconscious. + +"Where was the doorway? This is his son speaking, so tell me +all." + +"Just a minute. Oh! Here is the report slip. He was taken from +the corner of Avenue A and East Eleventh Street. You'd better +come down right away, for he is apt to die tonight. He's only +been here ten minutes." + +"Has any one else telephoned to find out about him?" + +"No. We didn't even know his name until just as you called up, +when we found his papers and some warrants in a pocketbook. How +did you know?" + +But Shirley disconnected curtly, this time. He bowed his head in +thought, and then, with his usual nervous custom, fumbled for a +cigarette. Here was the Captain, whom he had left on Forty-fourth +Street, near Fifth Avenue, a short time before, discovered fully +three miles away. + +And the news telephoned from Jersey City, by the fleeting magic +voice on the wire. Even his iron composure was stirred by this +weird complication. + +"I wonder!" he murmured. He had ample reason to wonder. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE INNOCENT BYSTANDER + + +"Well, Mr. Shirley, your coming here was a Godsend! I don't know +what to do now. The newspapers will get this surely. I depended +on Cronin: he must have been drinking." + +Shirley shook his head, as he explained, "I know Cronin's +reputation, for I was a police reporter. He is a sterling man. +There's foul work here which extends beyond your father's case. +But we are wasting time. Why don't you introduce me to your +physician? Just tell him about Cronin, and that you have +confided in me completely." + +Van Cleft went upstairs without a word. Unused to any worry, +always able to pay others for the execution of necessary details, +this young man was a victim of the system which had engulfed his +unfortunate sire in the maelstrom of reckless pleasure. + +By his ingenuous adroitness, it may be seen, Shirley was +inveigling himself into the heart of the affair, in his favorite +disguise as that of the "innocent bystander." His innate +dramatic ability assisted him in maintaining his friendly and +almost impersonal role, with a success which had in the past kept +the secret of his system from even the evildoers themselves. + +"A little investigation of the telephone exchanges during the +next day or two will not be wasted time," he mused. "I'll get +Sam Grindle, their assistant advertising manager to show me the +way the wheels go 'round. No man can ride a Magic Carpet of +Bagdad over the skyscrapers in these days of shattered folklore." + +Howard Van Cleft returned with the famous surgeon, Professor +MacDonald. He was elderly, with the broad high forehead, dignity +of poise, and sharpness of glance which bespeaks the successful +scientist. His face, to-night, was chalky and the firm, full +mouth twitched with nervousness. He greeted Shirley abstractedly. +The criminologist's manner was that of friendly anxiety. + +"You are here, sir, as a friend of the family?" + +"Yes. Howard has told me of the terrible mystery of this case. +As an ex-newspaper man I imagine that my influence and +friendships may keep the unpleasant details from the press." + +"That is good," sighed the doctor, with relief. "How soon will +you do it?" + +"Now, using this telephone. No, for certain reasons, I had +better use an outside instrument. I will call up men I know on +each paper, as though this were a 'scoop,' so that knowing me, +they will be confident that I tell them the truth as a favor. +Such deceit is excusable under the circumstances. It may +eventually bring the murderer to justice." + +Professor MacDonald winced at the word. He turned toward Van +Cleft, on sudden thought, remarking: "Howard your mother and +sister may need the comfort of your presence. I will chat with +your friend until the Coroner comes." + +The physician sank into a library chair. The criminologist +quietly awaited his cue. He lit a cigarette and the minutes +drifted past with no word between them. The doctor's gaze +lowered to the vellum-bound books on the carven table, then to +the gorgeous pattern of the Kermansha at his feet. Once more he +studied the face of his companion, with the keen, soul-gripping +scrutiny of the skilled physician. As last he arrived at a +definite conclusion. He cleared his throat, and fumbled in his +waistcoat pocket for a cigar. A swiftly struck match in Monty's +hand was held up so promptly to the end of the cigar, that the +doctor's lips had not closed about it. This deftness, simple in +itself, did not escape the observation of the scientist. He +smiled for the first time during their interview. + +"Your reflex nerves are very wide awake for a quiet man. I +believe I can depend upon those nerves, and your quietude. May I +ask what occupation you follow, if any? Most of Howard's friends +follow butterflies." + +"I am one of them, then. Some opera, more theatricals, much art +gallery touring. A little regular reading in my rooms, and there +you are! My great grandfather was too poor a trader to succeed +in pelts, so he invested a little money in rocky pastures around +upper Manhattan: this has kept the clerks of the family bankers +busy ever since. I am an optimistic vagabond, enjoying life in +the observation of the rather ludicrous busyness of other folk. +In short, Doctor, I am a corpulent Hamlet, essentially modern in +my cultivation of a joy in life, debating the eternal question +with myself, but lazily leaving it to others to solve. Therein I +am true to my type." + +"Pardon my bluntness," observed MacDonald, watching him through +partially closed eyes. "You are not telling the truth. You are +a busy man, with definite work, but that is no affair of mine. I +recognize in you a different calibre from that of these rich +young idlers in Howard's class. I am going to take you into my +confidence, for you understand the need for secrecy, and will +surely help in every way--noblesse oblige. This man Cronin, the +detective, was rather crude." + +"He is honest and dependable," replied Shirley, loyally. + +"Yes, but I wonder why professional detectives are so primitive. +They wear their calling cards and their business shingles on +their figures and faces. Surely the crooks must know them all +personally. I read detective stories, in rest moments, and every +one of the sleuths lives in some well-known apartment, or on a +prominent street. Some day we may read of one who is truly in +secret service, but not until after his death notice. But there, +I am talking to quiet my own nerves a bit,--now we will get to +cases." + +The doctor dropped his cigar into the bronze tray on the table, +leaning forward with intense earnestness, as he continued. + +"This, Mr. Shirley, is the third murder of the sort within a +week. Wellington Serral, the wealthy broker, came to a sudden +death in a private dining room last Monday, in the company of a +young show girl. He was a patient of mine, and I signed the +death certificate as heart failure, to save the honorable family +name for his two orphaned daughters. + +"Herbert de Cleyster, the railroad magnate, died similarly in a +taxicab on Thursday. He was also one of my patients. There, too, was +concerned another of these wretched chorus girls. To-night the fatal +number of the triad was consummated in this cycle of crime. To +maintain my loyalty to my patients I have risked my professional +reputation. Have I done wrong?" + +"No! The criminal shall be brought to justice," replied Shirley +in a voice vibrant with a profound determination which was not +lost upon his companion. + +"Are you powerful enough to bring this about, without disgracing +me or betraying this sordid tragedy to the morbid scandal-rakers +of the papers?" + +"I will devote every waking hour to it. But, like you, my +efforts must remain entirely secret. I vow to find this man +before I sleep again!" + +"You are determined--yet it cannot be one single man. It must be +an organized gang, for all the crimes have been so strangely +similar, occurring to three men who are friends, and entrez nous, +notorious for their peccadilloes. The girls must be in the +vicious circle, and ably assisted. But there is one thing I +forgot to tell you, which you forgot to ask." + +"And this is?" + +"How they died. It was by some curious method of sudden arterial +stoppage. Old as they were, some fiendish trick was employed so +skilfully that the result was actual heart failure. There was no +trace of drugs in lungs or blood. On each man's breast, beneath +the sternum bone I found a dull, barely discernible bruise mark, +which I later removed by a simple massage of the spot!" + +Shirley closed his eyes, and passed his hand over his own chest +--along the armpits--behind his ears--he seemed to be mentally +enumerating some list of nerve centers. The physician observed +him curiously. + +"I have it, doctor! The sen-si-yao!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"The most powerful and secret of all the death-strokes of the +Japanese art of jiu-jitsu fighting. I paid two thousand dollars +to learn the course from a visiting instructor when I was in +college. It was worth it for this one occasion." + +Shirley arose to his feet, and approached the other, touching his +shoulder. + +"Stand up, if you please. Let me ask if this was the location of +the mark?" + +The physician, interested in this new professional phase, readily +obeyed. One quick movement of Shirley's muscular hand, the thumb +oddly twisted and stiffened, and a sudden jab in the doctor's +abdomen made that gentleman gasp with pain. Shirley's expression +was triumphant, but the professor regarded him with an expression +of terror. + +"Oh! Ugh!--What-did-you-do-to me?" he murmured thickly, when he +was at last able to speak. + +"Merely demonstrated the beginning of the death punch which I +named. That pressure if continued for half a minute would have +been fatal." + +"I wish you would teach me that," was the physician's natural +request, as he nodded with a wry face. + +"Impossible, my dear sir, for I learned it, according to the +Oriental custom under the most sacred obligations of secrecy. +One must advance through the whole course, by initiatory +degrees, before learning the final mysteries of the samurais. +Now, we have a working hypothesis. The girls could never have +accomplished this. One man and one alone must have killed the +three, although doubtless with confederates. Yamashino assured +me that there were only six men in this country who knew it +beside myself. We must find an Orientalist!" + +Shirley paced the floor, but his meditations were interrupted by +the arrival of the Coroner and his physician. Van Cleft hurried +into the room with them, to present the doctor, who exchanged a +formal greeting with the men he had met twice before that week. + +"A sad affair, Professor," observed the Coroner nervously, +drinking in with profound respect the magnificent surroundings +which symbolized the great wealth of which he secretly hoped to +gain a tithing. "I trust that, as usual, in such cases, I may +suggest an undertaker?" + +"Why--talk about that at once, sir?" asked Howard with a shudder. + +The physician, familiar with the subtleties of coroners, gently +placed an arm about the young man's shoulder. He nodded, +understandingly, to the Coroner, as he turned toward Shirley. + +"I must be going now," the latter interposed. "Just a word with +you, Howard, that I may send a message to your mother and +sister." + +The physician led away the two officials as Shirley continued: "I +must go to see Cronin--deserted there like a run-over mongrel on +the street. Can I leave this house by the rear, so that none +shall know of my assistance in the case, or follow me to the +hospital? If you can secure an old hat and coat, I will leave my +own, with my stick, to get them some other time." + +"I will get some from the butler, if you wait just a moment. You +can leave by the rear yard, if you don't mind climbing a high +board fence." + +Van Cleft hurried downstairs, in a few minutes, bearing a +weather-beaten overcoat and an English cap, which Shirley drew +down over his ears. With the coat on, he looked very unlike the +well-groomed club man who had entered. Unseen by Van Cleft he +shifted an automatic revolver into the coat pocket from the +discarded garment. + +"Now, Mr. Shirley, come this way. Follow the rear area-way, +across to the next yard, where after another climb you find a +vacant lot where the Schuylers are preparing to erect their new +city house. Will you attend to everything?" + +"Everything. I'll start sooner than you expect." + +Truly he did! For no sooner had he descended the second fence +into the empty lot than a stinging blow sent him at full length +on the rocky ground, where the excavations were already being +started. Two men pounced upon him in a twinkling--only his great +strength, acquired through the football years, saved him from +immediate defeat. His head throbbed, and he was dizzy as he +caught the wrist of the nearest assailant with a quick twist +which resulted in a sudden, sickening crunch. The man groaned in +agony, but his companion kicked with heavy-shod feet at the +prostrate man. Shirley's left hand duplicated the vice-like grip +upon the ankle of the standing assailant, and his deftness caused +another tendon strain! Both men toppled to the ground, now, and +before they realized it Shirley had reversed the advantage. His +automatic emphasized his superiority of tactics. He understood +their silence, broken only by muted groans: they feared the +police, even as did he, although for different reasons. He +"frisked" the man nearest him upon the ground, and captured +deftly the rascal's weapon: then he sprang up covering the twain. + +"Get up! Youse guys is poachin' in de wrong district--dis belongs +to de Muggins gang. I'll fix youse guys fer buttin' in. Up, +dere!" His hands went into his coat pockets, but the men knew +that they were still pointing at them, the gunman's "cover" as it +is called. They staggered sullenly to their feet. He beckoned +with his head, toward the front of the lot. They followed the +silent instructions, one limping while his mate wrung the injured +wrist in agony. + +Directly before the lot stood a throbbing, empty automobile. +Shirley decided to take another car--he could not guard them and +drive at the same time. + +"Down to Fift' Avnoo," he ordered. "I got two guns--not a woid +from youse!" His erstwhile amiable physiognomy, now gnarled into +an unrecognizable mask of low villainy bespoke his desperate +earnestness. The men obeyed. This was apparently a gangster, of +gangsters--their fear of the dire vengeance of a rival +organization of cut-throats instilled an obedience more humble +than any other threats. + +Toward the Park side they advance, one leaning heavily upon the +other. Shirley, his broad shoulders hunched up; with the collar +drawn high about his neck, the murderous looking cap down over +his eyes, followed them doggedly. + +A big limousine was speeding down the Avenue from some homing +theater party. Shirley hailed it with an authoritive yell which +caused the chauffeur to put on a quick brake. + +"Git out dere,--no gun play. Up inter dat car!" he added, as +they approached the machine. + +"Say, what you drivin' at?" cried the driver, queruously. "Is +this a hold-up?" It was a puzzling moment, but the +criminologist's calm bravado saved the situation: as luck would +have it no policemen were in sight, to spoil the maneuver. + +"No," and he assumed a more natural voice and dialect. "I'm a +detective. These men were just house-breaking, and I got them. +There's twenty-five dollars in it for you, if you take us down to +the Holland Detective Agency, in ten minutes." + +"He's kiddin' ye, feller," snapped out one man. + +"Don't fall fen him, yen boob!" sung out the other. + +But Shirley's automatic now appeared outside the coat pocket. +The chauffeur realized that here was serious gaming. With his +left hand Shirley jerked out the ever ready police card and fire +badge, which seemed official enough to satisfy the driver. + +"Quick now, or I'll run you in, too, for refusing to obey an +officer. You men climb into that back seat. Driver, beat it now +to Thirty-nine West Forty Street, if you need that twenty-five +dollars. I'll sit with them. I don't want any interference so I +can come back and nab the rest of their gang." + +His authoritative manner convinced this new ally, and he climbed +into the car, facing his prisoners, with the two weapons held +down below the level of the windows. Pedestrians and other +motorists little recked what strange cargo was borne as the car +raced down the broad thoroughfare. + +In nine minutes they drew up before the Holland Agency, a +darkened, brown front house of ancient architecture. The +chauffeur sprang out to swing back the door. + +"Go up the steps, and tell the doorman that Captain Cronin wants +two men to bring down their guns and handcuffs and get two +prisoners. Quick!" + +The street was not empty, even at this hour. Yet the passersby +did not realize the grim drama enacted inside the waiting +machine. Hours seemed to pass before Cronin's men returned with +the driver, as much surprised by the three strange faces within +the machine, as he had been. + +"You take these men upstairs and keep them locked up," bluntly +commanded the criminologist. "They're nabbed on the new case of +the Captain's which started to-night, I'm going over to Bellevue +to see him." His voice was still disguised, his features twisted +even yet. + +The men gave him a curious glance, and then obeyed. As they +disappeared behind the heavy wooden door, Shirley stepped into a +dark hallway, close by. He lit a wax match to give him light for +the choosing of the right amount, from the roll of bills which he +drew forth. The chauffeur whistled with surprise at the size of +the denominations. The twenty-five were handed over. + +"Thanks very much, my friend," and the face unsnarled itself, +into the amiable lines of the normal. The voice was agreeable +and smooth, which surprised the man the more. "You took me out +of a ticklish situation tonight. I don't want any mere policemen +to spoil my little game. Please oil up your forgettery with +these, and then--forget!" + +"Say, gov'nor," retorted the driver, as he put the money into the +band of his leather cap. "I ain't seen so much real change since +my boss got stung on the war. I ain't so certain but what you +was the gink robbin' that house, at that. But that's them guys +funeral if you beat 'em to it. Good-night--much obliged. But I +got to slip it to you, gov'nor--you ain't none of them Central +Office flat-feet, sure 'nuff! If you are a detective, you're +some fly cop!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A SCIENTIFIC NOVELTY + + +In a private ward room at Bellevue Hospital, Captain Cronin was +just returning to memory of himself and things that had been. +Shirley arrived at his cot-side as he was being propped up more +comfortably. The older man's face broke into game smiles, as the +criminologist took the chair provided by the pretty nurse. + +"Thanks, I'll have a little chat with my friend, if you don't +think it will do him any harm." + +"He is better now, sir. We feared he was fatally injured when +they brought him in. I'll be outside in the corridor if you need +anything." + +She left not without an admiring look at the big chap, wondering +why he wore such disreputable superstructure with patent leather +pumps and silk hose showing below the ragged overcoat. Strange +sights come to hospitals, curiosity frequently leading to +unprofitable knowledge: so she was silently discreet. Shirley's +garb was not unobserved by the detective chief. Monty laughed +reminiscently at the questioning glance. + +"These are my working clothes--a fine combination. I nabbed two +of the gang. But what became of you?" + +"Outside that club door, I wanted to save time for us both. I +took the first taxi in sight. Before I could even call out to +you, the door slammed on me, the shades flopped down, the car +started up--the next thing I knew this here nurse was sticking a +spoon in my mouth, a-saying: 'Take this--it's fine for what ails +you!'" + +"I wonder if it could have been the same machine they left at Van +Cleft's? I will tell you how things progressed." So he did, +leaving out only the confidence of Professor MacDonald. The +Captain became feverishly excited, until Shirley abjured him to +beware of a relapse. "You must be calm, for the next twenty-four +hours: there will be much for you to do, even then. Meanwhile, +let me call up your agency; then you give them instructions over +this table telephone to let Howard Van Cleft interview the little +chorus girl, with his friend. I'll be the friend." + +"I'm afraid I'm going to be snowed under in this case, Monty. +The finest job I've had these dozen years. But you're square, +and will do all you can." + +"Old friend, I'll do what I can to make Van Cleft and the +newspapers sure that you are the most wonderful sleuth inside or +outside the public library. Here's your office--speak up. Let +me lift you." + +"Hello Pat!" called Cronin, as his superintendent came to the +'phone. "I am detained at Bellevue, so that I can't be there +when Van Cleft comes down. Let him Third Degree that little Jane +from the garage. Keep them two men apart, too--oh, that's all +right, the fellow is a friend of mine on the 'Frisco police +force. He won't butt in." Silence for a moment, then: "Oh, +shucks, let 'em yowl! They've got more than kidnapping to worry +about for the next twenty-five years." + +He hung up the receiver, sinking back on his pillows wan from the +strain. Monty handed him a glass of water, and adjusted the +bandages with a hand as tender as a woman's. He lifted the +instrument again. + +"You are sterling, twenty-two carat and a yard wide, Captain! +Now, get to sleep while I find out who the ring-master is. I've +sworn to keep awake until I do. I think it well to telephone Van +Cleft, and arrange for a better get-a-way for us both." + +He was soon talking with the son of the murdered man. "Meet me +down at the Vanderbilt Hotel--ask for Mr. Hepburn's room, and +send up the name of Williams. See you in an hour. Good-bye." + +Hanging up the receiver, he turned toward the door, after a +friendly pat on Cronin's shoulder. The bell rang, and the +Captain reached for it, to sink back exhausted upon the bed. +Shirley answered, to be greeted by a pleasant feminine voice. + +"Is this Captain Cronin?" + +Instantly the criminologist replied affirmatively, suiting his +tones as best he could to the gruff voice of the detective chief, +with a wink at that worthy. + +"I just called up, Captain, to ask about you--Oh, you don't +recognize my voice. I'm Miss Wilberforce, private secretary to +Mr. Van Cleft. Has any one been to see you yet? I understand +that you are very busy, and have already missed two other good +cases, this one being the THIRD! Well, don't hurry, Captain. +You may get the rest to come--if you live long enough. +Good-bye!" + +Shirley looked at Cronin, startled. Another mention of the +mystic number. He called for information about the origin of the +call. + +"Lordee, son! Are they at it again?" asked Cronin in disgust. + +"Yes--overdoing it. One thing is clear, that whoever is behind +this telephone trickery is very clever, and very conceited over +that cleverness. It may be a costly vanity. Yes, information?" + +"The call was from Rector 2190-D. The American Sunday School +Organization, sir--It doesn't answer now; the office must be +closed." + +Shirley put the instrument down, with a smile on his pursed lips. +He waved a good natured farewell to his friend, as he drew the +cap down over his eyes. + +"Look a little happier, Captain. I'll send down some fruit and +a special vintage from our club which has bottled up in it the +sunlight of a dozen years in Southern France. I hope they keep +the telephone wires busy--they may tangle themselves up in their +own spider-web!" + +Leaving the hospital, he hurried to the hotel. One of his secret +idiosyncracies was a custom of "living around" at a number of +hotels, under aliases. Maintaining pleasant suites in each, he +kept full supplies of linen and garments, while effectively +blotting out his own identity for "doubling" work. + +He was known as "Mr. Hepburn" here, and entering the side door he +was subjected to the curious gaze of only one servant, the operator +of the small elevator. Once in the shelter of his quarters he +rummaged through some scrap-books for data--he found it in a Sunday +feature story published a month before in a semi-theatrical paper. +It described with rollicking sarcasm, a gay "millionaire" party +which had been given in Rector's private dining rooms. Among the +ridiculed hosts were Van Cleft, Wellington Serral and Herbert De +Cleyster! Here, in some elusive manner, ran the skein of truth which +if followed would lead to the solution of mystery. He must carve out +of this mass of pregnant clues the essentials upon which to act, as +the sculptor chisels the marble of a huge block to expose the figure +of his inspiration, encased there all the time! + +"To find out the source of their golden-haired nymphs for this +merry-merry, that is the question! Some stage doorkeeper might +be persuaded to unburden what soul he has left!" + +He jotted in his memorandum book the names of the other eight +wealthy men who were pilloried by the journalist. The younger +men, Shirley felt sure, were of that peculiarly Manhattanse type +of hanger-on--well-groomed, happy-go-hellward youths who danced, +laughed and drank well,--so essential to the philanderings of +these rich old Harlequins and their gilded Columbines. As he +scribbled, the telephone of the room tinkled its summons. + +He started toward it: then his invaluable intuition prompted him +to walk into the adjoining room, where another instrument stood +on a small table, handy to the bed. Only two people could +possibly know he was there. Van Cleft could not have arrived, as +yet. The other bell jingled impatiently, but Shirley finally +heard the voice of the switch-board girl. + +"I'm trying to get you on the other wire, sir. There's a call." + +"Don't connect me," he hurriedly ordered, "except to open the +switch, so I may listen. If I hang up without a word, tell the +party I will be back in twenty minutes." + +With a hotel telephone girl tact is more important than even the +knowledge of wire-knitting. It was the woman's voice which he +had heard at the hospital. Captain Cronin was anxious to speak +to Mr. Williams, who was calling on Mr. Hepburn! With the +biggest jolt of this day of surprises Shirley disconnected and +whistled. Again he laughed--with that grim chuckle which was so +characteristic of his supreme battling mood! They had found the +trail even quicker than he had expected. Fortunate it was that +he had not mentioned his own name in telephoning from the +hospital to Howard. Not a wire was safe from these mysterious +eaves-droppers now. He hurried into a business suit, and left +the hotel, to walk over Thirty-fourth Street to the studio of +his friend, Hammond Bell. Here he was admitted, to find the +portrait-painter finishing a solitary chafing-dish supper. + +"Delighted, Monty! Join me in the encore on this creamed +chicken and mushrooms!" + +"Too rich for my primitive blood, Hammond. I'm in a hurry to get +a favor." + +"I've received enough at your hands--say the word." + +"Simply this: I want to experiment with sound waves. I +remembered that once in a while some of these wild Bohemian +friends of yours warbled post-impressionist love-songs into your +phonograph. It stood the strain, and so must be a good one. It +is too late now to get one in a shop; will you lend me the whole +outfit, with the recording attachment as well, for to-night and +to-morrow?" + +"The easiest thing you know. Let's slide it into this grip--you +can carry the horn." + +Three minutes later Shirley made his exit, and soon was shaking +hands with Van Cleft in his own room at the hotel. He sketched +his idea hurriedly, as he adjusted the instrument on the +dressing-table near the telephone. + +"When the call comes, be sure to say: 'Get closer, I can't hear +you.' That's the method, and it's so simple it is almost silly." +They were barely ready when the bell warned them. At Van Cleft's +reply, when the call for "Mr. Williams" Shirley pushed the horn +close to the telephone receiver. Van Cleft twisted it, so as to +give the best advantage, and demanded that the speaker come +closer to the 'phone. + +"Can you hear me now?" asked the feminine voice. "Do you hear me +now?" + +"No, speak louder. This is Mr. Williams. Speak up. I can't +understand you." The voice was petulant and so distinct that +even Shirley could hear it, as he knelt by the side of the +phonograph. Again Van Cleft insisted on his deafness. There +was the suggestion of a break in the voice which brought to +Shirley's eyes the sparkle of a presentiment of success. At +last Van Cleft admitted that he could hear. + +"Well, you fool, I've a message for your friend Mr. Van Cleft." + +"Which one?" was the innocent inquiry, as he forgot for an +instant that now he was the sole bearer of that name. + +"The one that's left. Tell him there will be none left if he +continues this gum-shoe work. He had better let well enough +alone, and let that little girl get out of town as soon as +possible. The papers will go crazy over a scandal like this, and +some one is apt to grab Van Cleft. That's all. Good-bye!" + +Silently Shirley shut off the lever of the machine, to catch up +the receiver. As before his endeavor to locate the call resulted +in a new address: this time in the Bronx! + +"Ah, the lady leaps from the business district to the Bronx in +half an hour. That is what I call some traveling." + +Van Cleft studied him with open mouth, as he withdrew the +phonograph record, coating it with the preservative to make the +tiny lines permanent. + +"In the name of common sense, who was that? And what's this +phonograph game?" he demanded. + +"The second question may answer the first before sunrise, unless +I am badly mistaken. I have heard an old adage which declares +that if you give a man long enough rope he will hang himself. My +new application is that you let him talk enough he is apt to sing +his own swan song, for a farewell perch on the electric chair at +Sing Sing!" + +Then he lit a cigarette and packed up the phonograph. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MISBEHAVIOR OF THE 'PHONE + + +Still befuddled by the unusual events of the day, Howard Van +Cleft was unable to delight in a theoretical discovery. Personal +fear began to manifest itself. + +"Mr. Shirley, you're going at this too strong. We know the +guilty party--this miserable girl in the machine. We want to +hush it up and let things go at that." + +"We're hushing it, aren't we?" demanded Shirley, as he placed the +record in the grip. "Don't you see the wisdom of knowing who may +systematically blackmail you after secrecy is obtained. This is +a matter of the future, as well as the present." + +"But I don't want to lose my own life--I am young, with life +before me, and I want to let well enough alone, after these +threats." + +"I am afraid that you have a yellow streak." His lip curled as +he studied the pallid features of the heir to the Van Cleft +millions. Fearless himself, he could still understand the +tremors of this care-free butterfly: yet he knew he must crush +the dangerous thoughts which were developing. "If you mistrust +me, hustle for yourself. You have the death-certificate, the +services will be over in a few days, and then you will have +enough money to live on your father's yacht or terra firma for +the rest of your life, in the China Sea, or India, as far away +from Broadway chorus girls as you want. That might be safe." + +He gazed out of the window, toward the twinkling lights far away +across the East River. His sarcasm made Van Cleft wince as +though from a whip lash. The latter mopped his forehead and +tried to steady his voice, as he replied with all humility. + +"You're a brick, and I don't mean to offend you. Today has been +terrible, you know: this tornado has swept me from my moorings. +I don't know where to turn." + +"I am thoughtless," and Shirley's warm hand grasped the flaccid +fingers of the young man. "Forgive me for letting my interest +run away with my sympathies. I'm thinking of the future, more +than mere protection from newspaper scandal. This crime is so +ingenious that I believe it has a more powerful motive than mere +robbery. You are now at the head of a great house of finance +and society. You must guard your mother and your sister, and +those yet to come. A deadly snake is writhing its slimy trail +somewhere: here--there--'round about us! Who knows where it will +strike next? Who knows how far that blow may reach--even unto +China, or wherever you run?" + +He hesitated, studying the effect upon Van Cleft, who dropped +limply into a chair, his eyes dark with terror. The +psychological +ruse had won. Selfish cowardice, which temporarily threatened to +ruin his campaign, now gave way to the instinct of a fighting +defense. + +"There, Van Cleft, it is ghastly. You have the significance now: +we must scotch the snake. That girl is over at the Holland +Agency, and we should see her at once, to learn what she knows. +Cronin has arranged for my coming with you, so introduce me under +my real name. + +"Wait here fifteen minutes after I leave, so that I may get the +phonograph in readiness, for you will undoubtedly be shadowed, +and that may mean another telephone call. You were not a coward +in college--I do not believe you are one now!" + +Van Cleft straightened up proudly. + +"No, I will fight them with all I have. But why these phonograph +records: isn't one enough?" + +"No, I want autographs of all the voices. I will go now. Don't +hurry in following me. Do not fear to let any shadowers see you +--it will help us along." + +Before many minutes he had been admitted to the corridor of the +Holland Agency by a sharp-nosed individual who regarded him with +suspicion. The operatives were undoubtedly expecting trouble +from all quarters, for three other large men of the "bull" type, +heavy-jowled, ponderous men, surrounded him as he presented his +card. + +"I am the friend of Howard Van Cleft, about whom Captain Cronin +telephoned you from Bellevue. I am to help him interview the +girl: may I wait until he arrives?" + +"Oh, you're wise to the case? Sure then, come into the reception +room on the right. What's that in your grip?" asked the apparent +leader of the men. + +"Just an idea of Van Cleft's," said Shirley, as he followed into +the adjoining compartment. "It's a phonograph. Have you +received any phoney 'phone calls to-night? Queer ones that you +didn't expect and couldn't explain? Van Cleft has, and he +decided to take records of them on this machine." + +The superintendent nodded. Shirley opened the grip and drew out +the instrument, and made ready on the small table, near which was +the desk telephone. + +"Let's get this in readiness then, and if you get any calls have +them switched up to this instrument, so that when you talk, you +can hold the receiver handy to the horn." + +"Young feller, I think you must know more about this business +than you've a right to. Just keep your hands above the table--I +think I'll frisk you!" + +"No need," snapped Shirley with a smile in his eyes, and the +automatic revolver was drawn and covering the detective before he +could reach forward. "But I have no designs on you. You will +have to work quicker than that with some people in this case." + +He slid the weapon across the table to the other who snatched it +anxiously. + +"If a call comes and you don't recognize the voice at once, +please ask the party to come closer to the 'phone, to speak +louder--listen, there is the bell now! Get it connected here at +once!" + +The surprised superintendent, fearing that after all he might +miss some good lead, yielded to his professional curiosity +against his professional prejudices. He bawled down the hall. + +"Switch on up here, Mike. I'll talk." He caught up the +instrument, as Shirley dropped to his knees beside him, to +swing the horn into place. + +"What's that?" he shouted over the wire. "Yes, shure it is-- +What's that you say?--I don't get you, cull--You want to speak +to the girl?--What girl?--Talk louder. Hire a hall!--Say, I +ain't no mind reader! Speak up." + +Over the instrument came the phrase once more: "Can you hear me +now?" + +It was the man's voice! Shirley was exultant. + +"Yes, I hear you. What do you want?" + +"I want to call for my sister, if you're going to let her go. I +want--" + +An inspiration prompted Shirley to press down the prongs of the +receiver. The connection was stopped, and the superintendent +turned upon him angrily. + +"You spoiled that, you nut! We was just about to find out who +her brother was--say, who are you, anyway?" + +"There, don't you worry. That makes another call certain. Don't +you see? That's what I'm playing for. But here comes Van Cleft, +who will tell you I am all right." + +The millionaire entered the hallway before any serious +altercation could arise. He greeted Shirley warmly and +introduced him to Pat Cleary. The man was mollified. + +"Well, I'm Captain Cronin's right bower, and I thinks as how this +guy is the joker of the deck trying to make a dirty deuce out of +me. But, if you want to see the girl, she's right upstairs. His +work was a little speedy on first acquaintance. Nick, keep your +eyes on this machine, for we may get another call on this floor +--This way gentlemen. Watch your step, for the hallway's dark." + +The girl was imprisoned in a windowless room on the second floor. +As the door opened, Shirley beheld a pitiful sight. Attired in +the finery of the Rialto, she lay prone upon a couch in the +center of the dingy room, sobbing hysterically. Her blonde hair +was disheveled, her features wan and distorted from her paroxysms +of fear and grief. Like a frightened animal, she sprang to her +feet as they entered the room, retreating to the wall, her +trembling hands spread as though to brace her from falling. + +"I didn't do it! I swear! The old fool was soused and I don't +know what was the matter with me. But I didn't kill any one in +the world!" + +"There, sit down, little girl, and don't get frightened. This +gentleman and I have come to learn the truth--not to punish you +for something you didn't do. Start with the beginning and tell +all you remember." + +Shirley's gentle manner was so unexpected, his voice so inspiring +that she relaxed, sinking to the floor, as Shirley caught her +limp girlish form in his arms. He placed her on the couch again, +and she regained her composure under his calm urging. Little by +little she visualized the details of the gruesome evening and +narrated them under the magnetic cross-questions of the +criminologist. + +She had met the elder Van Cleft in the tea-room of a Broadway +hostelry, by appointment made the evening before at Pinkie +Taylor's birthday party. After several drinks together they took +a taxicab to ride uptown to a little chop house. Did she see any +one she knew in the tea-room? Of course, several of the fellows +and girls whom she couldn't remember just now, buzzed about, for +Van Cleft was a liberal entertainer around the youngsters. She +had five varieties of cocktails in succession, and she became +dizzy. In the taxicab she became dizzier and when next she +remembered anything definite she was sitting on the stool in the +garage where she had been arrested. That was all. As she +reached this point there came a knock on the door with a call for +Van Cleft. + +"You Van's son!" she screamed. Then she fainted, while Shirley +caught her, calling an assistant to care for her, as he followed +Van Cleft downstairs to answer the telephone. "You know your +cues?" + +The millionaire nodded, as with trembling fingers he caught up +the instrument and knelt on the bare floor to hold it close to +the phonograph, which Shirley was engineering, with a fresh +record in place. + +"Hello! Hello, there, I say. Hello!" + +Shirley strained his ears, to hear this time a rough, wheezy +voice which caused the two men to exchange startled glances, as +it proceeded: "Is this you, Howard, my boy?" + +"What do you want? I can't hear you. The telephone is buzzing. +Louder please!" + +Shirley nodded approbation, as the machine ran along merrily. + +"Now, can you hear me. Ahem! Can you hear me now? Is this +Howard Van Cleft?" + +"Yes, go ahead, but louder still." + +"Now, can you hear me? This is your father's dearest friend, +Howard,--this is William Grimsby speaking. I am fearfully +distressed and shocked to learn of his death, my poor boy. And +Howard, I am grieved to learn that there is some little scandal +about it. As your father's confidential adviser, I urge you to +hush it up at all cost. I was told at your home just now by one +of the servants that you had gone to this vulgar detective +agency." + +Here Shirley shut off the phonograph, addressing Van Cleft with +his hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone for the minute. + +"Keep on talking until I return. Get his advice about flowers +and everything else you can think of." + +Then he ran from the room, into the hallway, out of the door, and +down the stoop to Fortieth Street. He looked about uncertainly, +then espied across the way a tailor shop, where the light of the +late workman still burned. Monty hurried thither and asked the +use of the telephone upon the wall. + +"Shuair, mister, but it will cost you a dime, for I have to pay +the gas and the rent." + +From the telephone directory he obtained the address and number +of William Grimsby, the banker. He received an answer promptly. +The servant, after learning his name promised to call the master. +A gruff voice answered soon. Mr. Grimsby declared that he had +been reading in his library for the last two hours, undisturbed +by any telephone calls. Shirley expressed a doubt. + +"How dare you doubt my word, sir. The telephone is in my +reception room where I heard it ring just now, for the first +time. What do you want?" + +"An interview with you to-morrow morning at nine on a life and +death matter. I can merely remind you, sir, that two of your +friends, Wellington Serral and Herbert de Cleyster have met +mysterious deaths during the past week. Mr. Van Cleft died of +heart failure to-night. I will be there at nine. As you value +your own life do not leave your residence or even answer any +telephone messages again until I see you." + +"Well, I'll be--" Shirley disconnected, before the verb was +reached. He tossed the coin to the tailor, and speedily returned +to the waiting room where he signaled Van Cleft to end the +conversation. + +"Quick now, find out what wire called you up." The answer was +"William Grimsby, 97 Fifth Avenue." + +"You had the wrong tip that time, Mr. Shirley," said Van Cleft. +"But how could he have found out where I was, for none of the +servants know about Captain Cronin, or even my family that I was +coming down here. He gave me some good advice however. I want +to pay the hush money and end it all forever." + +Shirley had preserved the record and put it away with the others +in the grip. Now he lit a cigarette and puffed several rings of +smoke before answering. + +"Van, it must be wonderful to be twins." + +"This is no night for joking," petulantly, observed the nervous +young man. "I want the girl silenced--" + +"She won't open her mouth after I tell her some things. It may +entertain you to know, Van, that while you were getting such good +advice from Mr. Grimsby on this wire, I was talking to the real +Mr. Grimsby on his own wire: he said I was his first caller in +more than an hour. So, I gave him some good advice, which +wouldn't interest you. After this don't believe what the +telephone tells." + +"Who was I speaking with?" + +"The most brilliant criminal it has ever been my pleasure to run +across," and his eyes snapped with joy, the huntsman instinct +rising to the surface at last, "I will call him the voice until +I know his better name. He is the most scientific crook of the +age." + +"What do you know about criminals?" was the incredulous question. + +"I'll know a hundred times as much as I do now, when I know all +about this one, Van. You'd better have Cleary send an armed +guard along with you, and get home for a good rest. Get a man +who can drive a car, and bring back the empty auto three houses +away from your residence: it will bear looking into! I'm going +up to have a revival meeting with that girl now, for I am +convinced that she is not a whit more implicated in the +conception or execution of this crime than you are. Good-night." + +Van Cleft left the house, with a pitying shake of the head. He +was not quite certain that he had done wisely, after all, in +bringing his eccentric friend into the affair. He little +reckoned how much more peculiarly Montague Shirley was to act for +the remainder of the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AN EXPERIMENT WITH THE "MOVIES" + + +The cross-examination of Polly Marion resulted in little +advantage. She had known of the sudden departure of two other +songbirds, well equipped with funds for the land of Somewhere +Else. Their absence had been the subject of some quiet jesting +among the dragon flies who flitted over the pond of pleasure. A +suggestion, from some unrecalled source, that their disappearance +had been connected with the deaths of the two aged suitors was +revitalized in her memory by the words of the elderly detective. +Familiar with the strange life of this jeweled half-world +Shirley's keenness brought forth nothing to convince him that the +girl had been more culpable than in the following of her class, +known to the initiate as the "gentle art of gold digging." + +"Polly, go home now, and stay away from these parties: that's my +honest advice, if you want to be on the 'outside looking in,' +when some one is sent to prison for this. I am in favor of +hushing up this affair, and want to ease it up for you. Are you +wise?" + +Polly was wise, beyond her years. Her equipoise was regained, +and with a coquettish interest in this handsome interviewer--such +girls always have an eye for future business--he returned to her +theatrical lodging house, in which at least dwelt her wardrobe +and makeup box when she was "trouping" in some spangled chorus. +Of recent months she had not been subjected to the Hurculean +rigors of bearing the spear, thanks to the gratuities of the +open-handed Van Cleft, Senior. She pleaded to remain out of the +white lights, meaning it as she spoke. But Shirley wisely felt +that the butterfly would emerge from the chrysalis, shortly, to +flutter into certain gardens where he would fain cull rare +blossoms! Pat Cleary deputized a "shadow" to diarize her exits +and entrances. + +"The hooks are cleaned, with fresh bait upon them," soliloquized +Shirley, as he went down the dark stoop. "Now for a little +laboratory work on the wherefore of the why!" + +Although long after midnight, he numbered among his +acquaintanceship, many whom he could find far from Slumber-land. His +steps led to the apartment of a certain theatrical manager, whom he +found engaged in a lively tournament of the chips, jousting with two +leading men, one playwright, a composer and a merchant prince. The +latter, of course, was winning. The host, contributing both chips +and bottled cheer, was far from optimistic until the arrival of the +club man. + +"A live one abaft the mizzen!" exclaimed Dick Holloway, "Here's +Shirley sent by Heaven to join us. After all I hope to pay my +next month's rent." + +Noisily welcomed by the victims of mercantile prowess, he +apologetically declined to flirt with Dame Fortune, pleading a +business purpose. + +"Business, Monty! By the shade of Shakspeare! I never knew you +to look at business, except to prevent it running you down like a +Fourth Avenue mail bus." + +"It is in the interest of science," said Shirley, drawing the +manager aside, "an experiment--" + +"Fudge on science. You interrupt a game at this time of night!" + +"But it means money. I am willing to pay." + +"Ah, Monty, money should never come between friends, and so I +retract: with three failures this season, because the public +doesn't appreciate art." + +"It's about moving pictures. I know that you have floated a +syndicate for big productions. Do you work night and day?" + +"An investment? Heaven bless you! Come into my bedroom and +we'll arrange things of course, we work at night. Just this +minute they are producing the 'Bartered Bride' in six reels and +eighteen thrills a foot. A magnificently equipped studio, the +public yelling for more how much have you?" + +"Not so fast, Dick. It's merely some special work tonight, what +you would call trick photography. I need a photographer, some +lights, a little space, a microscopic lens and the complete +developing during the night. And, I'll pay cash, as I have done +with some suspicious poker losses in this temple of the muses on +bygone evenings. Which, I may urge with gentle sarcasm is more +than I have frequently received at your hands." + +"Touche!" laughed Holloway. "I'll write a note to the studio +manager--he's there now, and will do what you want. You could +have your picture completed by morning with a little financial +coaxing applied in the right place. Come to the library table. +Go on with the game, boys, it will save me a little." + +The potentate of dry goods was drawing in his winnings, as +Shirley leaned over Holloway's shoulder to dictate the missive. +Suddenly a revolver shot rang out from the window, and a bullet +crashed into the wall behind Shirley's head. + +His hand, idly dropped into his overcoat pocket, intuitively +closed around his automatic revolver. A dark silhouette was +outlined against the gray luminosity cast up by the lights of +Broadway, half a block from the window. Through the opening +another belching flame shot forth, to be answered by the +criminologist's weapon, barking like a miltraileuse. They +heard a stifled cry, and as Shirley ran forward, he exclaimed +with disappointment. + +"He's escaped down the fire-escape and through that skylight." + +He faced about to smile grimly at the curious scene within. The +playwright had taken refuge among the brass andirons of the big +empty fireplace. The matinee heroes were under chairs, and +Holloway behind the mahogany buffet. From the direction of the +stairway came shrill cries from the speeding merchant, softening +in intensity as he neared the street level. + +"The battle's over!" exclaimed Holloway. "I don't know whether +it was my chorus men wishing the gipsy curse on me, or the +stage-carpenters going on a strike. But look! See the swag that +Jerry left behind! What shall we do with it?" + +"Loot!" suggested the playwright, with rare discrimination, as he +dusted off the wood ashes, and approached the table with +glistening eyes. "We'll divide share and share alike. It's the +only way to win from Jerry." + +Temperament was asserting its gameness. Shirley put back into +position a shattered portrait of Sarah Bernhardt, and his eyes +twinkled as the apostles of the muses hastened to divide the +chips of the departed one into five generous piles. Holloway +completed the letter, albeit with a nervous chirography, and +handed him the envelope. + +"Go now, before a submarine war zone is declared. I'm going to +close up shop before the police come visiting. Good luck, Monty, +in the cause of science." + +Although his conscience was clear about the game having created +five surprised winners by his interruption, he was disturbed over +the certainty that the voice was aware of his personal work in +the case. The difficulties were now trebled! Before any +policemen appeared Shirley had passed Broadway on his way to the +motion picture studio, on the West side of Tenth Avenue. Whatever +secret observers may have been on his tracks, nothing untoward +occurred: still, his senses were quickened into caution by the +attempt on his life. + +A parley with a grumpy gateman, the presentation of his letter +and he was admitted to the presence of the manager, a man +exhausted with the strenuosity of night and day work. Shirley +understood the antidote for his sullenness. + +"Here, old man, send out for a little luncheon for the two of us. +I have some unusual experimental work, and need the assistance of +a well-known expert like yourself." The flattery, embellished by +a ten-dollar bill, opened a flood-gate of optimism. + +A camera man was summoned, and the apparatus prepared for some +"close-up" motion pictures. Under the weird green lights of the +mercury vapor lamps, a director and company of players were busily +enacting a dramatic scene, before a studio set. They gave little +heed to the newcomer: boredom is a prime requisite of poise in the +motion picture art. + +"I have here three phonograph records, which I want +photographed." + +"But they don't move--you want a still camera," exclaimed the +dumfounded manager. + +"Yes, they do move as the picture is taken. I want a microscopic +lens used in the camera in such a way that we take a motion +picture of the twinings and twistings of one little thread on the +wax cylinder, as it records the sound waves around the cylinder." + +The photographer sniffed with scorn, being familiar with +eccentric uplifters of the "movies," but responded to the command +of the manager to adjust his delicate camera mechanism for the +task. + +"There is a certain phrase of words on each cylinder which I want +recorded this way. Can all three be taken parallel with each +other on the same film?" + +"Sure, easiest thing to do--just a triple exposure. We take it +on one edge of the film, through a little slit just a bit wider +than the space of the thread, cut in a screen. Then we rewind +that film, and slide the slit to the middle of the lens, take +your second wax record, and do the same on the right edge of the +film for the third. But what's the idea?" + +The camera man began to show interest: he was a skilled +mechanician and he caught the drift of a sensible purpose, at +last. + +Shirley did not answer. He placed the first record in the +phonograph, running it until the feminine voice could be +distinguished asking: "Can you hear me now?" He marked the +beginning and end of this phrase with his pocket knife. So with +the merry masculine and the aged, disagreeable voice, he located +the same order of words: "Can you hear me now?" The operation +seems easy, in the telling, or again perhaps it appears intensely +involved and hardly worth the trouble. A motto of Shirley's was: +"Nothing is too much trouble if it's worth while." So, with +this. To the cynical camera man its general nature was expressed +in his whispered phrase to the manager: + +"You better not leave them property butcher knives on that there +table, Mr. Harrison. This gink is nuts: he thinks's he's Mike +Angelo or some other sculpture. He'll start sculpin' the crowd +in a minute!" + +"You take the picture and keep your opinions to yourself," +snapped Shirley whose hearing was highly trained. + +The man lapsed into silence. For two hours they fumed and +perspired and swore, under the intense heat of the low-hung +mercury lamps, until at last a test proved they had the right +combination. Shirley greased the skill of the camera man with a +well-directed gratuity, and ordered speedy development of the +film. Before this was done, however, he took six other records +of voices from the folk in the studio, using the same words: "Can +you hear me now?" + +The three strips of triple exposures were taken to the dark +room and developed by the camera man. They were dried on the +revolving electric drums, near a battery of fans. Shirley +studied every step of the work, with this and that question +--this had been his method of acquiring a curiously catholic +knowledge of scientific methods since leaving the university, +where sporting proclivities had prompted him to slide through +courses with as little toil as possible. + +A print upon "positive" film was made from each: every strip +was duplicated twenty-five times, at Shirley's suggestion. +Then after two hours of effort the material was ready to be run +through the projecting machine, for viewing upon the screen. + +The manager led Shirley to the small exhibition theatre in which +every film was studied, changed and cut from twenty to fifty +times before being released for the theatres. The camera man +went into the little fire-proof booth, to operate the machine. + +"Which one first, chief?" + +"Take one by chance," said Shirley, "and I will guess its number. +Start away." + +There was a flare of light upon the screen, as the operator +fussed with the lamp for better lumination. He slowly began to +turn the crank, and the criminologist watched the screen with no +little excitement. The picture thrown up resembled nothing so +much as three endless snakes twisting in the same general rhythm +from top to bottom of the frame. The twenty-five duplicates were +all joined to the original, so that there was ample opportunity +to compare the movements. + +"Well, gov'nor, which film was that?" asked the operator. + +"Not A--it was B or C!" + +"Correct. How'd you guess it? Which is this one?" + +As he adjusted another roll of film in the projector, Shirley +turned to the manager sitting at his side. "Mr. Harrison, were +those snakes all exactly alike?" + +"No. They all wriggled in the same direction, at the same time. +But little rough angles in some movements and queer curves in +others made each individually different." + +"Just what I thought. There goes another.--That is not film A, +either!" + +"Righto!" confirmed the camera man. As the detailed divergence +between the lines became more evident in the repetitions, Shirley +slapped his knee. + +"Now for the finish. Try reel A." + +This time the three snakey lines moved along in almost identical +synchronism. The only difference was that the first was thin, +the second heavier, the third the darkest and most ragged of all. +The relationship was unmistakable! + +"I got you gov'nor," cried the operator. "Some dope, all right, +all right." + +"Why, what is all this?" asked the manager, nonplussed. "The +last three are alike, but what good does it do?" + +"It is known that the human voice in its inflections is like +handwriting--with a distinct personality. Certain words, when +pronounced naturally, without the alterations of dialect, are +always in the same rhythm. The records taken in the studio of +those five words, 'Can you hear me now?' are in the same general +rhythm, but only the last three snakes show exact similarity, to +each little quaver and turn. There was only the difference in +shading: one was the voice of a women. The second of a man of +perhaps forty, the third of an old man--all three taken at +different times, and I thought from different people. But they +all came from one throat, and my work is completed along this +line--Will you please lock up the films, the phonograph, and my +records in your film vault, until I send for them; through Mr. +Holloway?" + +The criminologist arose and walked into the deserted studio, from +whence the company had long since departed for belated slumbers. He +picked up three bricks which lay in a corner of the big studio, and +placed them gently into his grip. The manager and the camera man +observed this with blank amazement, as he locked it and put the key +into his pocket. Then he handed each of them a large-sized bill. + +"I'm very grateful, gentlemen, for your assistance. Pleasant +dreams." + +Shirley abstractedly walked out of the studio, one hand +comfortably in his overcoat pocket, swinging the grip in the +other. + +"Say, Lou," confided the manager, "he's the craziest guy I've +ever seen in the movies. And that's going some, after ten years +of it." + +Lou treated himself to a generous bite of plug tobacco, and spat +philosophically, before replying. + +"Sure, he's crazy. Crazy, like the grandfather of all foxes!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +ENTER A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN + + +A reddening zone in the East silhouetted the serrated line of the +distant elevated structure, as Shirley walked along the gray +street, his thoughts busy with the possibilities of applying his +new certainty. + +He had reached Sixth Avenue, and was just passing one of the +elevated pillars when a black touring car crept up behind him. +The clanging bell and the grinding motors of an early surface car +drowned the sound of the automobile in his rear. Suddenly the +big machine sprang forward at highest speed. A man leaned from +the driver's seat, and snatched the grip from his hand. + +The motorman, cursing, threw on the emergency brake, in time to +barely graze the machine with his fender as it shot across the +street before him. + +Shirley's view was cut off, until he had run around the +street-car--then he beheld the big automobile skidding in +a half-circle, as it turned down Fifth Avenue. It was too +far away to distinguish the number of the singing license tag. + +"Much good may the bricks do them! Perhaps they will help to +build the annex necessary up the river, when these gentry go +there for a long visit." + +Shirley laughed at the joke on his pursuers, and turned into a +little all-night grill for a comforting mutton chop of gargantuan +proportions, with an equally huge baked potato. He was a healthy +brute, after all his morbid line of activities! Later, at the +Club, he submitted to the amenities of the barber, whose fine +Italian hand smoothed away, in a skilful massage, the haggard +lines of his long vigil. As he left the club house for William +Grimsby's residence he looked as fresh and bouyant as though he +had enjoyed the conventional eight hours' sleep. + +"You are this Montague Shirley?" was the querulous greeting from +the old gentleman, when he was admitted to the drawing-room. +"You kept me in anguish the entire night, with your silly words. +The telephone bell rang at intervals of half an hour until dawn: +I may have missed some important business deal by not replying +What do you mean? Is this some blackmail game?" + +"No, sir. It has to deal with blackmailing, however--but not for +my profit." + +"Explain quickly. I am a busy man. My motor is waiting now to +take me to my office." + +"Look here, Mr. Grimsby, at this memorandum book," said Shirley, +holding forward the list which he had copied from the joy-party +article in the theatrical paper. "With some friends of yours, +you held merry carnival to Venus and Bacchus at an all-night +lobster palace not long ago. Have I the right names?" + +"This is rank impertinence. How dare you? Get out of my house." + +"Not so fast, my dear sir, until you understand my drift. +Throughout Club circles you and Mr. Van Cleft, with these other +cronies are sarcastically referred to as the Lobster Club. Did +you know that?" + +Grimsby's face was purple with angry mortification, but Shirley +would not be gainsaid. "I am acting in this matter as a friend +of Howard Van Cleft," he continued. "Your three friends have met +their deaths at the hand of a cunning conspirator. Last night, +white I talked with you on the telephone, young Van Cleft was +receiving advice over another wire from a person who pretended to +be William Grimsby--advising him to hush the matter up and drop +the investigation. But--Captain Cronin the famous detective--has +received a tip that the number of victims would be increased very +soon--frankly, now: do you want to be the fourth?" + +Grimsby's face changed to ashen gray, as he timidly clutched +Shirley's sleeve. + +"Then cooperate with me. You understand now the nature of this +villain's work: to rob and assassinate his victim in the company +of a girl, so that this would endeavor to hush the scandal, +without reporting it to the police. His progress is unchecked, +and afterwards he would have untold opportunity for continuing a +demand for hush money on the surviving relatives. May I count on +you to help?" + +"You may count on me to leave the city within the next two +hours." + +"Good! But I want to have you disappear so quietly that this +cunning unknown will not know of it. He is watching your house +now, without a doubt." + +Grimsby strode to the window, with his characteristic limp, and +drew the heavy curtains aside, to peer out nervously. + +"No one is in sight." + +"The man is as unseen in his work as a germ. But he is not +unheard: he uses the telephone to locate his victims, that is why +I advised you to let your instrument ring unanswered." + +"I'll do what I can, if I can keep out of more danger. An old +man craves life more than a young one. I fought through the +Civil War and brought a medal from Congress and this wounded knee +out of it, Mr. Shirley. I didn't fear anything then, but times +have changed!" + +"Here is my plan, then," continued Shirley, his lips twitching with +sub-strata amusement, "I want to impersonate you, when you leave, so +that this man tries to send me after the other three. Don't +interrupt, let me finish--You will say that it is impossible to +deceive any one at close range. Surely, it does sound melodramatic, +like a lurid tale of a paper back novel. But I have studied the +photographs of your friends. You and I bear the closest resemblance +of any in the group. Your weight is about the same as mine--your +shoulders are a trifle stooped and you walk with a curious drag of +your left foot. Your hair is white but thick: the contour of our +faces is quite similar, and so with dry cosmetics, some physical +mimicry, and the use of a pair of horn-rimmed glasses like yours I +can make a comparatively good double. The only exposure to the sharp +eyes of your enemies will be, first, when I substitute myself for +you and take your automobile back home; second, when I go down to +the theatrical district, to visit a well-known tearoom where I learn +you are a frequent guest. There the wall tables are shrouded by +decorations, and I shall keep in the shadow and talk as little as +possible. Behind those dark glasses, and entering the place with +your peculiarly spotted fur coat, I will resemble you more than you +believe. If to add to the illusion, I show hospitable prodigality +with drinks for the others, it is probable that their observation +will be less analytical. Then, third in the line of activities, I +will go to the theatre, sit in a darkened box, and let them take me +where they will in whatever automobile turns up. Thus you see my +campaign." + +"How much do I have to pay you?" + +"I might have expected that," was the laughing retort. "You are +noted for the fortunes you waste on stupid show girls, while +times are hard with you in your offices where young and old men +struggle along to support honest families. Have no fear, Mr. +Grimsby, my income is enough for my simple wants. I am entering +this hunt for big game, just as I have gone to India and East +Africa, for jungle trophies. It will not cost you a nickel." + +"I had better contribute a little," began Grimsby, embarrassed, +as he drew out a check-book. But Shirley negatived with +emphasis. + +"How about your servants? Can you trust them with the secret?" + +"They have been with me for twenty-five years or more. My wife +is in California, and the rest of the servants, except two maids +and a butler, up at my country home on the Hudson." + +"Fine: then, in two hours from now, meet me at the Hotel Astor, +where I have rooms, in the name of Madden. Bring down an extra +suit of clothes, and an extra overcoat, for I want to wear your +fur one, which I see there on the davenport. On the downward +trip instruct your chauffeur to drive your car up to your country +place, as soon as he has made the return trip from the hotel. +You will be there before he gets up, on the country roads and he +will be none the wiser. Goodbye, Mr. Grimsby." + +At the club Shirley made some necessary disposition of his +private matters, for he knew this case would run longer than +a day. From his rooms he sent a note by messenger to his +theatrical friend, Dick Holloway, which read simply. + +"Dear Holloway:--The experiment with the movies won the blue +ribbon. I have a new plan on foot. You can help me in this, as +well. I want you to engage for me a beautiful, clever and daring +actress, afraid of nothing under the sun or moon, and absolutely +unknown on Broadway. No amateurs or stage-struck heiresses or +manicurists: you are the one impresario who can fill my bill. I +will call at your office in fifteen minutes, so have the compact +sealed by then. Who finally won the loot, last night? + + Your friend, Montague Shirley." + +The manager was forced to go through the note twice, to make sure +that his senses were not leaving him. Then he turned in the chair, +toward the unusual young woman who sat in his private office, +observing with mingled amusement and curiosity the fleeting +expressions upon his face. + +"In view of your mission in America, this may interest you," was +his amused comment, as he handed her the missive. "It is from +the most curious man in New York." + +He studied the downcast lashes, as she read the letter. Hers was +a face which had stirred a continent, yet he had never met her +until this memorable day. She might have been twenty-three years +old--and again, might have been three years younger or older. +Rippling red-gold waves of hair separated in the center of her +smooth brow to caress with a soft wave on either side the +blooming cheeks, whose Nature-grown roses were unusual in this +world-weary vicinity of Broadway. A sweet mouth with a sensuous +smile at one corner, and a barely perceptible droop of pathos at +the other, lent an indescribable piquance to her dimpled smile. +The blue orbs which raised to his own with a Sphinxian laugh in +their azure depths thrilled him--Holloway, the blase, the +hardened theatrical manager, flattered and cajoled by hundreds of +beautiful women on the quest of stage success! + +Adroitly veiled beneath the silken folds of the clinging gown, +redolent with the bizarre artistry of a Parisian atelier, was the +shapely suggestion of exquisite physical perfection which did not +escape the connoisseur glance of Holloway. + +"He is a literary man: I know that from the small, yet fluent +writing, and the cross marks for periods show that he has written +for newspapers and corrected his own proofs--He is unusually +definite in what he desires and accustomed to having his +imperious way about most things. In this case, he is easily +pleased--merely perfection is his desire." + +"Shirley is generally prompt, and is apt to breeze in here any +second now, with his two hundred pounds and six feet of brawn and +ginger. I wonder--" + +"Why do you suppose such a paragon is desired by your friend? +Who is he? What is he like, not an ordinary actor--" and the +wondrous eyes darkened with a curious thought. + +"My dear lady, no one has discovered the mental secrets of +Montague Shirley. He apparently wastes his life as do other +popular society men with much money and more time on their hands. +Yet, somehow, I always feel in his presence as one does when +standing on the bow of an ocean liner, with the salt breeze +whizzing into your heart. He is a force of nature, yet he +explains nothing: a thorough man of the world; droll, sarcastic, +generous and I believe for democracy he is unequaled by any +Tammany politician: he knows more policemen, dopes, conductors, +beggars, chauffeurs, gangsters, bartenders, jobless actors, +painters, preachers, anarchists, and all the rest of New York's +flotsam and jetsam than any one in the world. He is always the +polished gentleman, and yet they take him man for man." + +"What does this unusual person do for a living?" + +"Nothing but living!" + +Her interest was naturally undiminshed by this perfervid tribute, +and she clapped her dainty hands together with sudden mirth. + +"You know why I came here, and why to you, Mr. Holloway. You +know who I am, and although I answer none of those exorbitant +terms except that I am not known by sight along your big street +Broadway, why not recommend me for the position?" + +"But you, of all people!" Holloway's face was a study in +amazement. "You can't tell what wild project he has in view. +Shirley is a wild Indian, in many things you know--just when +you least expect it. I have known him a dozen years." + +He paused to weigh the matter, and his sense of humor conquered. +He roared with mirth, which was joined in more sedately by the +unknown girl. "That settles it. You couldn't start on your +campaign in a better way. You shall be the Lady of Mystery in +this story! I will not breathe a hint of your identity to +Shirley, and no one else knows, of course. What a ripping good +joke: I'm glad you came here the first hour after your landing in +New York." + +"What shall I call myself? I have it--a romantic name, which +will be worth laughing over later--let me see--Helene Marigold. +Is that flowery enough?" + +"Shirley will be sure you are an actress when he hears that. Mum +is the word, may you never have stage fright and never miss a +cue--Here he comes now!" + +The criminologist rushed into the office impetuously, dropping +his bag on the floor, and doffing his hat as he beheld the pretty +companion of Holloway. + +"On time to the minute, as usual, Shirley. Your note came, and I +followed your instructions. Let me present to you your new star, +Miss Helene Marigold, who just disembarked on the steamer from +England this morning. You have secured a young lady who is +making all Europe sit up and rub its eyes. I believe I have at +last found a match for you, Prince of the Unexpected!" + +Shirley held forth his fervent hand, and was surprised at the +almost masculine sincerity with which the delicately gloved +fingers returned the pressure. He looked into the blue eyes with +a challenging scrutiny, and received as frank an answer! + +Dick Holloway indulged in an unobserved smile, as he turned to +look out of the window, lost for the nonce in mirthful +speculation. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK + + +"Dick, you can help me further, with your dramatic knowledge. I +feel in duty bound to tell Miss Marigold that she is risking her +life, if she takes up this task." + +Instead of hesitancy, which Shirley half expected, the girl's +face flushed with quickened interest, and her eyes sparkled with +enjoyment as he unfolded the situation. At the mention of +Grimsby, Holloway grunted with disgust--it may have been a +variety of professional jealousy. Who knows? However, the +problem fascinated the mysterious young woman, who blushed, in +spite of herself, when Shirley put his blunt question to her. + +"And you are willing to assume for a time the character of one of +these stage moths, whom rich men of this type pursue and woo, +wine, dine and boast about? Will it interfere with your own +work? Any salary arranged by Mr. Holloway is agreeable, for this +unusual task." + +"The game, not the money, is the attraction. I will be ready +when you pronounce my cue." + +"Splendid. Dick, will you assist Miss Marigold in selecting an +attractive apartment in a theatrical hotel this afternoon. I +will call for her at four-thirty, to take her to tea. She may +not know me, at first glance: that depends upon the help you give +me at the Astor. I will expect you there in an hour. I haven't +acted since I left the college shows: with a hundred chances to +one against my success, even I am not bored." + +He hurried from the office, and Holloway noted the glow in the +girl's glance which followed his stalwart figure. Holloway was a +good tactician: there were reasons why he enjoyed this new role +of match-maker de luxe, yet he played his hand far more subtly +than at poker. Which was well! + +Ensconced in the Astor, Shirley was soon busy before the cheval +glass, from which were suspended three photographs of William +Grimsby, obtained from a photographic news syndicate. + +Coat and waistcoat had been removed, as he discriminatingly +applied the dry cosmetics with skill which suggested that he had +disguised himself for daylight purposes far more than he would +admit. By the time he had powdered his thick locks with the +white pulverized chalk, and donned a pair of horn-rim glasses of +amber tint, his whole personality had changed. The similarity +was startling to the prototype who was admitted to the room a few +minutes later. + +"Why, I beg pardon--I have come to the wrong suite," were +Grimsby's apologetic words, as he essayed to retreat. + +"You are the first victim of the mirage. Do you like the +caricature?" + +"Astounding, my friend!" gasped Grimsby, sinking into the chair. +Shirley drew him to the mirror, to make a closer study of the +lines of senility and late hours. A few delicate touches of +purple and blue, some retouching of the nostrils, and he drew on +the suit provided by his elder. Dick Holloway was announced, and +Shirley ordered some wine and a dinner for one! At Grimsby's +surprise, Shirley, smiled indulgently. + +"I am selfish--I will have a little supper party by myself, and +spare you in nothing. I want you to eat, to drink, to pour wine, +to take out your wallet, to walk, to sit down, to laugh, to +scold! You have a task, sir: I will imitate you move by move! +This is a rare experiment." + +"Great Scott! Which is you?" cried Holloway who entered with the +burdened waiter. + +"Neither. We're both me!" chuckled the criminologist. "But let +me introduce you to my twin--" + +The two men exchanged formalities with an undercurrent of +dislike. Shirley lost no time. He compelled the old man to run +through his paces, as Holloway criticized each study in miming. +Just as the capitalist would swing his arms, limp with his left +leg, shift his head ever so little, from side to side in his +walk, so Shirley copied him. A word here, an exhortation there, +and Shirley improved steadily under Holloway's analytical +direction. At last the lesson was ended, with the manager's +pronounciamento of "graduation cum lauda." + +"I'll have to star you, Monty," he declared, as Shirley put on +the fur greatcoat of the old man, grasping the gold headed cane, +and drooping his shoulders in a perfect imitation of the other's +attitude. + +"Perhaps it will be necessary. The chorus men have invaded +society with their fox-trots and maxixe steps. We club men will +have to countercharge the enemy, for self-preservation, to play +heavy villains upon the stage. Eh?" + +He turned toward Grimsby, who was well wearied with the trying +ordeal, and evidencing a growing nervousness about his own +escape. + +"You know how to leave, according to my plan? Wrap the muffler +well around the lower part of your face, button this second +overcoat closely about your neck, and enter the private carriage +which I ordered for 'Mr. Lee,' waiting now at the Forty-fifth +Street Side. Then drive leisurely to the West Forty-second +Street Ferry, where you can catch the late afternoon train for +your country place." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Shirley. I have been an old curmudgeon with you, +I fear. You have taught this old dog new tricks in several ways, +young man. Neither I nor my friends will forget your bravery. +They are all out of the city by now, according to word from my +private secretary. Your field is clear. Good luck, sir!" + +Shirley and Holloway left the rooms first. Neither addressed the +other on the lift, as it descended to the street level. Holloway +casually followed Monty as he stiffly walked to the big red +limousine waiting at the Forty-fourth Street entrance of the +hostelry. The chauffeur sprang out, opening the door with a +respectful salute. The disguise was successful! + +"Home!" grunted Shirley, sinking back into the car, with collar +high about his neck and the soft hat half concealing his eyes. +He scrutinized the faces of the passers-by, photographing in that +receptive memory of his the ugly features of two men, who peered +into the limousine from under the visors of their black caps. +The car sped up town through the bewildering maze of street +traffic. The chauffeur helped him up the steps of the brownstone +mansion, while Grimsby's old butler swung open the glass door, +with a helping hand under the feeble arm. + +Shirley puffed and grunted impatiently until he heard the door +close behind him. Then straightening up, he turned upon the +startled butler. + +"Well, my man. Go out and tell the chauffeur to leave for the +country at once, as Mr. Grimsby already ordered him to do." + +"My Gawd, sir!" exclaimed the servant, paling perceptibly. +"What's come over you, sir?--Oh, I beg pardon, sir, you're the +other gentleman. You certainly fooled me, sir--You're bloody +brave, sir, to do all this for the master. Are we in any +danger?" + +"Not a bit--whatever happens will be outside the house. Just +keep up the secret, as you value your master's life. Go, and +tell the man. I must kill time here in the library, reading +until four o'clock." + +Shirley threw aside the greatcoat, and walked to the window of +the small reception room which faced the street, to draw aside +the curtains and watch the chauffeur, as he entered the machine +to speed away. A black automobile slowly passed the house, +bearing two men on the driver's seat. From under the visors of +their black caps they scrutinized the building, to hastily look +away as they observed the face at the window. + +Shirley made a note of the number of the machine. He could have +sworn that this was the same car which had passed him that +morning at dawn when the grip was snatched from his hand. + +He returned to the library, where he lost himself in the rare old +volumes of Grimsby's life collection: the criminologist was a +booklover and the hours drifted by as in a happy playtime, until +the butler came to tell him the time. + +"Great Scott! I must hurry. Call a taxi, for me. I will go to +Holloway's office to learn where Miss Marigold has been +ensconced." + +He sat in the machine before the office building, as he sent the +chauffeur up to Dick's office, to inquire for a message to "Mr. +Grimsby." A note was brought down, informing him that the girl +awaited him in the Hotel California, a few blocks above. The +machine started off once more, and Shirley laughed at the droll +situation in which he found himself. + +"I wonder who Helene Marigold can be? I wonder what Holloway +meant precisely when he predicted that I would meet my match. I +am not seeking one kind--and blue eyes, surrounded by red-gold +hair and peaches and cream will not shake my determination." + +But the best laid determinations of bachelor hearts gang aft +agley! + +Down at the Hotel California, famous for its rare collection of +attractive feminine guests and the manifold breach-of-promise +suits which had emanated from the palm bedecked entrance, Helene +Marigold was indulging herself in a delighted, albeit highly +amused, inspection of sundry large boxes which had been arriving +from shops in the neighborhood. + +"As nearly as I can imagine this must look like the bower of a +Broadway Phryne. All that is missing is a family portrait in +crayon of the father who was a coal miner, the presence of a +buxom financial genius for the stage mother, and a Chinese +chow-dog on a cerise velvet cushion. But who ever attains +perfection here below?" + +She lifted some filmy gowns which had arrived in the latest +parcel to her chin, peering over the sheerness of the lacy +cascade, into the mirror of the dressing-table. + +"If good old Jack could see me now? Poor, old, stupid, dear, +silly Jack! I must write to him at once, for he is largely +responsible for my present unusual surroundings. How pleased +this would not make him, the old dear." + +With the thought, she sat down before the escritoire, dipping a +pearl and gold pen, as she paused for the words with which to +begin the note. Another knock came at the door. It could not be +another gown. She had told Holloway to keep all her personal +baggage at the steamer dock until she had finished her lark! At +the portal a diminutive messenger delivered a large white box, +ornately bound in lavender ribbons. When she unwrapped it, +hidden in the folds of many reams of delicate tissue, she found a +gorgeous bunch of orchids. + +"How beautiful! I wonder who could have--" then she found a +white card, and read it aloud, with a mirthful peal of laughter. + +"To Lollypop's little Bonbon Tootems--from her foolish old +Da-Da!" + +Helene turned toward the window, to gaze out over the mysterious, +foreign motley array of roofs and obtruding skyscrapers of this +curious district. + +"This mysterious man plays his part with a sense of humor. If +only he will be different and not mean the flowers, ever!" + +And she forgot to finish the note which was to have gone to +faraway, stupid, dear old Jack. + +Ten minutes later an aged gentleman entered the gorgeous foyer of +the Hotel California, impatiently presenting his card to the +bell-boy, for announcement to Miss Marigold. The lad, true to +tradition, quietly confided the name to the interested clerk, +before doing so. As the visitor was shown to the elevator, the +clerk turned to his assistant with a nudge. + +"There's the easiest spender of the Lobster Club. That means +good trade here, with this new peach in the crate. These old +ginks are hard as Bessemer armor-plate in business, but oh, how +soft the tumble for a new shade of peroxide." + +"Mr. Grimsby" was soon sitting on the velour divan, at a comfortable +distance from possible eavesdroppers at the door. She was putting +the finishing touches to her preparation for the butterfly role. +Shirley felt an unexpected thrill at this little intimacy of their +relations: the rooms were permeated with the most delicate +suggestion of a curious perfume, which was strange to him. Somehow +it fitted her personality so effectually: for despite the physical +appeal of her beauty, now accentuated by the risque costume which +she had donned, at the professional suggestion of Dick Holloway, +there was a pervasive spirituality in the girl's face, her hands, +and the tones of her soft voice. + +She turned to smile at him, her dimples playing hide and seek +with the white pearls beneath the unduly scarlet lip. + +"Isn't this a ripping good situation for a novel?" she began. + +"Yes, too good at present, Miss Marigold. There are too many, +important people to be affected for it ever to be given to the +public, for the identities would all be exposed ruthlessly. +Besides, no one would believe it: it seems too improbable, being +real life. It will be more improbable before we finish the +adventure, I suspect. Can I trust your discretion to keep it +secret? You know, I have a deal of skepticism about the best of +women." + +Helene reddened under that keen glance, and he saw that he had +offended her. + +"I beg your pardon: I know that we shall work it out together, +with absolute mutual trust." + +Such an earnest vibrance was in his voice that somehow she was +reminded of another voice: her mind went back to the neglected +letter to Jack. What could have caused her to be so remiss? +She would not let herself dwell on the subject--instead, with +a surprising deftness, she caught up Shirley's own cue, for a +staggering question of her own. + +"Are you sure that you have absolutely confided in me? Did you +start at the beginning, when you told the story to-day." + +"What do you mean?" and Shirley caught the glance sharply. + +"Your unusual rapidity of action, Mr. Shirley, for a mere +interested friend! It is queer how wonderfully your mind has +connected this work, and the various accidental happenings, to +evolve this clever ruse in which I am to assist. It doesn't seem +so amateurish as you would make it. You seem mysterious to me." + +"Do you think I am the voice? Here is a chance for real +detective work, if you can double the game, and capture me?" was +the laughing retort. "I don't believe you trust me." + +The girl stood up before him, and after one deep look, her eyes +fell before his. Those exquisite lashes sent a tiny flutter +through the case-hardened heart of the club man, despite his +desperate determination to be a Stoic. + +"I do trust you," the voice was impetuous, almost petulant. "You +are a real man: I merely give you credit for being better than +the class of rich young men of whom you pretend to be an absolute +type. But there, I waste words and time. Is my costume for this +little opera boufe satisfactory to you? Do you like my warpaint +and battle armor?" + +She stood before him, a glorious bird of paradise. The wanton +display of a maddening curve of slender ankle, through the slash +of the clinging gown imparted just the needed allurement to stamp +her as a Vestal of the temple of Madness. The cunning simplicity +of the draping over her shoulders--luminous with the iridiscent +gleam of ivory skin beneath, accentuated by the voluptuous beauty +of her youthful bosom--the fleeting change of colors and contours +as she slowly turned about in this maddening soul-trap of silk +and laces--all these were not lost on the senses of Shirley. As +the depths of those blue eyes opened before his gaze, a mad, a +ridiculous aching to crush her in his arms, surprised the +professional consulting criminologist! For this swift instant, +all memory of the Van Cleft case, of every other problem, was +driven from his mind, as a blinding blast of seething desire +surged about him. + +Then the old resolution, the conquering will of the man of one +purpose, beat back the flames of this threatening conflagration. +His eyes narrowed, his hands dropped to his side, and he squinted +at her with the frigid dissective gaze of an artist studying the +curves of a model. + +"You must rouge your cheeks more, blue your eyelids and redden +your lips even yet. Then be generous with the powder--and that +wonderful perfume." + +An inscrutable smile played about the sensitive lips, as Helene +turned to her dressing-table. Shirley stood with his face to the +window; he did not observe it, nor would he have understood its +menace to his own peace of mind. Helene, however, did. She was +a woman. + +"May I smoke a cigarette? I am afraid I am almost a fiend, for I +seem to crave the foolish comfort that I imagine they give, in +times of nervous drain." + +"No, Lollypop's little Bonton Tootems enjoys their fragrance. +Don't ever ask me again. I have completed the mural decoration +with futurist extravagance in the color scheme. My cloak, sir!" + +He tossed it about her, and took up his hat and gold-headed +stick. With a final glance at his own careful make-up, he +started after her for the street. + +"Some chikabiddy!" was the remark of the clerk to the head +bell-boy. The words reached the ears of Shirley and Helene. Her +hand trembled on his arm as they entered a waiting taxicab. She +looked pathetically at him, as she asked. + +"Don't you think I am interested, sincere and loyal, to brave +such remarks as these, and the other worse things they will say +before long? I wouldn't dare do this, if I were not sure that no +one in America but you and Mr. Holloway knows me. To wear this +horrid stuff on my face--to dress in these vulgar clothes--to +impersonate such a girl! You know I'm not nearly as bad as I'm +painted!" + +Shirley clasped her white-gloved hand and nodded. He was +studying the pedestrians for a familiar twain of faces. He was +not disappointed, as the car swung into Broadway. + +"Look--those two men have been following me wherever I have gone. +They are a pair of old-fashioned pirates. Don't forget their +faces!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +IN THE GARDEN OF TEMPTATION + + +Their destination, one of the score of tango tea-rooms which had +sprung to mushroom popularity within the year, was soon reached. +Leaning heavily upon his stick, limping like his aged model, and +spluttering impatiently, Shirley was assisted by the uniformed +door man into the lobby. Helene followed meekly. Four hat boys +from the check-room made the conventional scramble for his +greatcoat, hat and stick, nearly upsetting him in their +eagerness. Then Shirley led the way into the half light of the +tropical, indoor garden, picking a way through the tables to a +distant wall seat, embowered with electric grapes and artificial +vines. + +"Sit down, my darling child," said the pseudo Grimsby, as he +dropped into a seat behind the table, which was protected from +the lights, and furthest away from any possible visitors. "We +are early, avoiding the crush. Soon the crowd will be here. We +must have some champagne at once, to assist me in my defensive +tactics. You will have to do most of the talking. Remember, we +are going to the Winter Garden musical review when we leave here: +you may tell this to whom you will." + +Helene looked about curiously, as the big tea-room began to fill +with its usual late afternoon crowd of patrons,--young, old and +indeterminate in age. Women of maturely years, young misses from +"finishing" schools, demimondaine, social "bounders" deluded by +the glitter of their own jewelry and the thrill of their wasted +money that they were climbing into New York society--these and +other curious types rubbed elbows in this melting pot of folly. +The tinkle of glasses, the increasing buzz of conversation, the +empty laughter of too many emptied cocktail glasses mingled with +the droning music of an Hawaiian string quartette in the far +corner. + +Suddenly, with banging tampani and the crash of cymbals, rattle +of tambourines and beating of tomtoms, the barbaric Ethiopians of +the dancing orchestra began their syncopated outrages against +every known law of harmony--swinging weirdly into the bewitching, +tickling, tingling rhythm of a maxixe. + +"How strange!" murmured Helene, as the waiter brought them some +champagne and indigestible pastries--the true ingredients of +'dansant the'. + +"Yes, on with the dance-let joy be unrefined! The fall of the +Roman Empire was the bounce of a rubber nursery ball, compared +with this New York avalanche of luxurious satiation! Now, my +child, old Da-da, is going to become too intoxicated to talk +three words to any of these gallants and their lassies. Grimsby +did not write a monologue for me, so I must pantomime: you will +have to carry the speaking part of our playlet. Flatter them +--but don't leave my side to dance!" + +The first bottle of wine had been carried away by the waiter, +(half emptied it is true,) as he filled a second order. Shirley +shielded his face beneath a drooping spray of artificial blooms +from the top of their wallbower. Several young men were +approaching them, and the criminologist noted with relief that +they evidenced their afternoon libations even so early. Eyes +dulled with over-stimulus were the less analytical. Chance was +favoring him. The newcomers were garbed in that debonair and +"cultured" modishness so dear to the hearts of magazine +illustrators. Faces, weak with sunken cheek lines, strong in +creases of selfishness, darkened by the brush strokes of +nocturnal excesses and seared, all of them with the brand mark of +inbred rascality, identified them to Shirley as members of that +shrewd class of sycophants who feast on the follies of the more +amateurish moths of the Broadway Candles. + +"Hello, old pop Grimsby!" + +"You're in the dark of the moon, Grimmie! I couldn't make you +out but for those horn rimmed head lights." + +"Welcome to the joy-parlor, old scout." + +The greetings of the juvenile buzzards varied only in +phraseology: their portent was identical: "Open wine." + +"Poor Mr Grimsby is so ill this afternoon, but sit down and have +something with us," volunteered Helene tremulously. + +The bees gathered about the table to feast on the vinous honey, +while Shirley, mumbling a few words, maintained his partial +obscurity, with one hand to his forehead. + +"Fine boysh, m'deah. Boysh, meet little Bonbon--my protashsh!" + +Little Bonbon was a pronounced attraction. Her vivacious charm +drew the eyes away from Shirley, who studied the expressions of +the weasel faces about him. The girl's heart sickened under the +brutal frankness of a dozen calculating eyes, yet she valiantly +maintained her part, while Shirley marveled at her clever +simulation of silly, giggly, semi-intoxication. One youth +deserted them to disappear through the distant dining room +entrance. The comments about the table were interesting to the +keen-eared masquerader. + +"Old Grimsby's picked a live one, this time!"--"What show is she +with?"--"Won't Pinkie be sore?" The criminologist was not left +to wonder as to the identity of "Pinkie," for an older man, +walking behind a red-headed girl in a luridly modern gown, +approached the table with the absent guest. The men were talking +earnestly, the girl staring angrily at Shirley's, beautiful +companion. + +"Hey, here come's Reggie! Sit down, Reg. Pop has passed away, +but his credit is still strong." + +"There's Pinkie--come, my dear, and join the Ladies' Aid Society +and have a lemonade," jested another youth, making a place for +the girl in the aisle. + +Pinkie's dark-haired companion sank somewhat unsteadily into a +chair next the girl. He frowned and rubbed his forehead, as +though to clear his mind for needed concentration. He shook +Shirley's arm, and spoke sharply. + +"Look up; Grimmie. I never saw you feel your wine so early in +the afternoon. It was a lucky day for me on Wall Street, so I +celebrated myself. You are here earlier than usual. Everybody +have some champagne with me." + +As he beckoned to the waiter, the red-haired girl bestowed a +murderous look upon Helene, who was sniffing some flowers which +she had drawn from the vase on the table. + +"Who's that Jane?" she demanded, her voice-shaking with jealousy. +"Grimmie, you act as if you were doped. Introduce us to your +swell friend. Wake him, Reg Warren." + +Helene's jeweled white hand protected the safety-first dozing of +her companion, as, through the interstices of his fingers, he +studied the inscrutable difference between the face of Warren and +the other youths about them. + +"Let Pop dream of a new way to make a million!" laughed one young +man. "His money grows while he sleeps." + +"Yes, let him dream on," laughed Helene, with a shrill giggle. +"When he makes that extra million he can star me on Broadway, in +my own show. He, he!" + +"You'll have to spend half of it at John the Barber's getting +your voice marceled and your face manicured," snarled Pinkie. +"Come, Reg, and dance with me: these bounders bore me." + +"Run along, Pinkie, and fox-trot your grouch away with Shine +Taylor. Here comes the wine I ordered--What's your name, girlie? +Where did you meet Grimsby?" + +"Oh, we're old friends," and Helene maliciously spilled a bottle +over the interrogator's waistcoat, as she reached forward to +shake his hand. "My name's Bonbon, you wouldn't believe me if I +told you my real name, anyway. Who are you?" + +"I'm not Neptune," he retorted, as he mopped the bubbles with a +napkin. "You've started in badly." Shirley mentally disagreed. +His stupor still obsessed him, but he noted with interest that +Warren paid the check for his bottle with a new one-hundred +dollar bill. Warren could elicit nothing from Helene but silly +laughter, and so he arose impatiently, as Shine Taylor returned +to whisper something in his ear. "I must be getting back to my +apartment. Bring Grimsby up to it to-night: a little bromo will +bring him back to the land of the living. I'll have a jolly +crowd there--top floor of the Somerset, on Fifty-sixth Street, +you know, near Sixth Avenue. Come up after the show." + +"We're going to the Winter Garden," suggested Helene, at a nudge +from Shirley, and Warren nodded. + +"I'll try to see you later, anyway. Goodbye!" + +Losing interest in the proceedings, as the time for reckoning the +bill approached, the other gallants followed these two. Alone, +again, Shirley ordered some black coffee, and smiled at his +assistant. + +"He told the truth for once." + +"What do you mean?" + +"He will try to see us later. That man is a member of the +murderous clan whom we seek. 'To-night is the night' for the +exit of William Grimsby--but, perhaps we may have a stage wait +which will surprise them." + +Gradually the guests thinned out in the tea-room, but Shirley +cautiously waited until the last. + +"Do you believe these young men are all members of the gang?" +asked the girl. "Why do you suppose these men are all criminals? +They surely look a bad lot." + +"There are two general reasons why men go wrong. One is hard +luck, aided by tempting opportunity--they hope to make a success +out of failure, and then keep on the straight path for the rest +of their lives. Such men are the absconders, the forgers, the +bank-wreckers, and even the petty thieves. But once branded +with the prison bars and stripes, they seldom find it possible to +turn against the tide in which they find themselves: so they +become habitual offenders. They are the easiest criminals to +detect. The second class are the born crooks, who are lazy, +sharp-witted and without enough will-power to battle against the +problems of honesty in work. It is easy enough to succeed if a +man is clever and unscrupulous without a shred of generosity. +The hard problem is to be affectionate, human, and conquer +every-day battles by remaining actively honest, when your rivals +are not straight. The born crook is safer from prison than the +weakling of the first class." He looked down at the coffee, and +then continued. + +"I do not believe all these young men are in this curious plot. +They are merely the small fry of the fishing banks: they are +petty rascals, with occasional big game. But somewhere, behind +this sinister machine, is a guiding hand on the throttle, a brain +which is profound, an eye which is all-seeing and a heart as cold +as an Antartic mountain. There is the exceptional type of +criminal who is greedy--for money and its luxurious +possibilities; selfish--with regard for no other heart in the +world; crafty--with the cunning of an Apache, enjoying the thrill +of crime and cruelty; refined and vainglorious--with pride in his +skill to thwart justice and confidence in his ability to +continually broaden the scope of his work. Crime is the ruling +passion of this unknown man. And the way to catch him is by +using that passion as a bait upon the hook. I am the wriggling +little angle worm who will dangle before his eyes to-night. But +I do not expect to land him--I merely purpose to learn his +identity, to draw the net of the law about him, in such a way as +to keep the Grimsby and Van Cleft names from the case." + +"And how can that be done?" + +"That, young lady, is my 'fatal secret.' The subplot developing +within my mind is still nebulous with me,--you would lose all +interest, as would I, if you knew what was going to happen. But +the time has passed, and now we can go to the theatre. I bought +the tickets by messenger this afternoon. I will let you do the +talking to the chauffeur and the usher." + +They left the tea-room, the last guests out. + +It was a touching sight to see the elderly gentleman supported on +one side by a fat French waiter, and on the opposite, by the +solicitous girl. The old Civil War wound was unusually +troublesome. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHEN IT'S DARK IN THE PARK + + +At the entrance of the restaurant the starter tooted his shrill +whistle, and a driver began to crank his automobile in the +waiting line of cars. According to the rules of the taxi stands +he was next in order. But, as is frequently the custom in the +hotly contested district of "good fares" another car "cut in" +from across the street. This taxi swung quickly around and drew +up before the waiting criminologist. + +Grunting and mumbling, as though still deep in his cups, Monty +allowed himself to be half pushed, half lifted into the car by +the attendant. Helene followed him. "Winter Garden," she +directed, and the machine sped away, while the thwarted driver in +the rear sent a volley of anathemas after his successful +competitor. + +Shirley scrutinized the interior of the machine, but there seemed +nothing to distinguish it from the thousands of other piratical +craft which pillage the public with the aid of the taximeter +clock on the port beam! Soon they were at the big Broadway +playhouse, where Shirley floundered out first, after the +ungallant manner of many sere-and-yellow beaux. He swayed +unsteadily, teetering on his cane, as Helene leaped lightly to +the sidewalk beside him. The driver stood by the door of the +car, leering at him. + +"Here, keep the change," and Shirley handed him a generous bill. + +"Shall I wait fer ye, gov'nor? I ain't got no call to-night. +I'll be around here all evening." + +The criminologist nodded, and the chauffeur handed Helene the +carriage number check. + +"Don't let 'em steal de old gink, inside, girlie. He's strong +fer de chorus chickens." + +Helene shuddered before the hawk-like glare of his malevolent +eyes, but in her part, she shook her head with a laugh, and +followed airily after her escort. + +"Good-evening, sir. Back again to-night, I see," volunteered the +ticket taker, to whom William Grimsby was a familiar visitant. +Shirley reeled with steadied and studied equilibrium, into the +foyer of the theatre, as he nodded. Their seats were purposely +in the rear of a side box, well protected from the audience by +the holders of the front positions. The criminologist appeared +to relapse into dreams of bygone days, while his companion peered +into the vast audience and then at the nimble limbed chorus on +the stage with piquant curiosity. + +"For years I wanted to see an American stage and an American +audience," she confided in an undertone, "and to think that when +I do so, it is acting myself, on the other side of the footlights +in a stranger, more dramatic part than any one else in the +theatre. A curious world, isn't it?" + +Shirley breathed deeply, drinking in the maddening perfume of her +glorious hair, so perilously near his own face. The shimmer of her +shoulders, the adorable curves of that enticing scarlet mouth +murmuring so near his own, and yet so far away, in this soul-racking +game of make-believe, stirred his blood as nothing else had done in +all the kalaediscopic years. + +"Yes, a more than curious world. How things have changed since +last evening when I planned a sleepy evening at the opera. I +wonder what the outcome will be?" + +Helene looked up at him quickly, then as suddenly toward the +Russian danseuse within the golden frame of the great proscenium. +The orchestra, with its maddening Slavic music, stirred her +pulses with a strange telepathy. The evening wore along, until +the final curtain. Shirley, with cumbersome effort helped her +with her cloak, dropping his hat and stick more than once in +simulated awkwardness. The electric numerals of the carriage +call soon brought the grimy-faced chauffeur. + +"Jack on the spot, gov'nor, that's me!" and he swung the door +open. + +"We'll go get some supper--no, we'll take little 'scursion in +Central Park, first," and his voice was thick, "correct, cabbie. +Drive us shru Central Park." + +"Are you going to take a chance in a dark park?" Helene asked +him, as they sat within the car, while the chauffeur cranked. +Shirley was sharply observing the man. A pedestrian crossed +directly in front of the machine, brushing against the driver, as +he fumbled with the lamp. If there were an interchange of words, +the criminologist could not detect it. + +"Surely. The park is good. We can be free of interference from +the police. Are you afraid?" + +"No--" yet, it was a pardonably weak little voice which uttered +the valiant monosyllable. + +"Here, Miss Marigold. Take this revolver. Don't use it until +you have to, but then don't hesitate a second." + +The machine started slowly up the street. Shirley groped about +the sides and bottom of the car, to make sure that no one could +be concealed within it. They were advancing up Broadway in +leisurely fashion. It might have been for the purpose of +allowing some to follow. Shirley wondered, then sniffed the air +suspiciously. The girl looked at him with a silent question. + +"Quick, tear off your glove and let me have that diamond ring I +noticed on your finger, the large solitaire, not the dinner +ring." + +Unquestioningly she obeyed. There was a strange Oriental odor +in the car--suggestive of an incense. The car was gliding up +Central Park West, toward one of the road entrances into the Park +proper. Shirley's hand clutched the ring, tensely. The driver, +tactfully looking straight to the front, gave no heed to the +occupants of the Death Car. He was, by this time speeding too +rapidly for either of his passengers to have leaped out without +injury. Shirley understood the smoothness of the voice's system, +by now. His hand slid to the top of the glass door pane, on the +right. Down the glass, across the bottom, down from the other +corner, and then over the top line, he cut with the diamond, +using a peculiar pressure. He rose to his feet, gave the lower +part of the pane a sharp tap. The glass, practically cut loose +from its case, now dropped and would have slid out to the roadway +with a crash had he not dexterously caught it, to draw it into +the car. Quickly he repeated the operation with the door pane at +the left. A nauseating, weakening something in the car sent +Helene's head spinning; she choked for breath and lay back +weakly, despite her will. Shirley turned to the small glass +square in the rear. This came out more easily. He lay the glass +with the others, on the floor of the car. The good clear air +whirled through the openings, reviving the girl. + +"Keep your eyes open, and that revolver ready. Now is the time. +Pretend to sleep." + +Shirley had drawn his own automatic by this time, and he realized +that the machine was slowing down. The chauffeur, as they passed +a walk light, looked back, observing that the two were apparently +unconscious. He slowed down still more, and tooted his horn +three times. A large touring car passed them, to stop some +distance ahead. Then it sped on, as Shirley's taxi followed +lazily. + +A figure suddenly came out of the darkness of the road. The +driver stopped the taxi, and walked around the front, as though +to adjust the lamp. The door opened slowly. A face covered with +a black handkerchief obtruded. A hand slid up the detective's +knee, along his side toward the abdomen, and a protruding thumb +began a singular pressure directly below the criminologist's +heart. Shirley's analysis for Dr. MacDonald had been correct! +But jiu-jitsu is essentially a game for two. + +Shirley's left hand suddenly shot forth to the neck of his +assailant. His muscular fingers closed in a deft and vice-like +pinch directly below the silk handkerchief. It was the +pneumogastric nerve, which he reached: a nerve which, when +deadened by Oriental skill, paralyzes the vocal chords. Not a +sound emanated from the mysterious man, even when Shirley's right +hand shot forward, under the chin of the other, for a deft blow +across the thorax. The other tumbled backward. + +"What's wrong, Chief? Too much gas?" cried the chauffeur rushing +to the side of the fallen man. As the driver dropped to his +knees, Shirley flung himself like a tiger upon the rascal's back. +The struggle was brief--the same silent silencer accomplished its +purpose. Before the man knew what had happened to him, he was +dragged inside the car, and another deft pinch sent him to +oblivion! + +"Hit him over the forehead with the butt of the revolver if he +opens his mouth," grunted Shirley. "This is the chauffeur, now +I'll get the other one." + +Just then a cry came from the darkness: it was a passing +patrolman. + +"What you doing in that auto?" + +But Shirley waited for no parley-explanations, showing his hand, +laying the whole scandal before the morning edition of the +newspapers, were all out of question now. He must take up the +pursuit later. He caught up, the chauffeur's cap, sprang into +the driver's seat, and the car shot forward like a race horse as +he threw forward the lever. The astonished policeman was within +twenty-five yards of the spot, when the auto disappeared in the +darkness. He pursued it vainly. + +A few moments later, a man with a handkerchief across his face, +groaned and then raised himself on his elbow, there in the +roadway. He could not remember where he was, nor why. Slowly he +crawled on hands and knees, into the rhododendrons by the +roadside, where he again lost consciousness. + +A big touring car rounded the curve of the roadway. + +"Not a sign of the Chief," said the driver. "He must have gone +back to the garage with the Monk. But that's a fool idea. Let's +get down there right away." + +The injured man's memory returned, and he rose stiffly to his +feet. He limped out of the Park, putting away the handkerchief, +muttering profanity and trying to fathom the mystery. As nearly +as he could reason it out, he must have been struck by another +machine from the rear. + +Far up in the northernmost driveway of the Park, where shrub +grown banks and rocky uplands shelter the thoroughfares, Shirley +stopped his runaway taxicab. + +"Let me have his rubber coat, for I'm going to hide this car out +on Long Island. It's a long ride, but this man and his machine +will disappear as completely as though they had been dumped in +the ocean." + +Shirley manacled the prisoner, and gagged him with a tightly +knotted handkerchief. He put the greatcoat of Grimsby's about +Helene's shoulders, as he brought her to the front seat of the +machine. Then he shut the doors on the prisoner, and drove the +automobile out through the Easterly entrance of the park. + +"I'm not really brave, Mr. Montague," said the tired voice at his +side. "I'm so glad I'm sitting by you, instead of back inside. +We will be home soon, won't we? I'm so exhausted--my first day +in a strange country, you know." + +Shirley, with the skill of a racing expert, guided the machine +through the maze of streets toward the Bridge over the East +River. The touch of that sweet shoulder, as it unconsciously +nestled against his own, sent through him a tremor which he had +not experienced during the weird silent battle in the dark. + +"A strange night, in a strange country. Are you sorry you tried +it?" + +With a sidelong glance, he caught the starry light in her eyes as +she looked up at him: there seemed more than the mere reflection +of passing street lamps. + +"A wonderful night: I'm glad, so glad, not sorry," was her dreamy +response. She lapsed into silence as the somnolent drone of the +motor and the whirr of the wheels caused the tired eyes to close +sleepily. + +When he looked at her again, as they were speeding down the +bridge Plaza in Long Island City, she was dozing. The drowsy +head touched his shoulder; she seemed like a child, worn out with +games, trustingly asleep in the care of a big, strong brother. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A TURN IN THE TRAIL + + +Helene was still asleep when Shirley stopped the engine of the +taxi before a stately Colonial mansion seated back among the +pines of a beautiful Long Island estate. They had been driving +for more than an hour. The girl stirred languorously as he +strove to awaken her. She murmured drowsily: + +"No, Jack, dear. Emphatically no. Let's not talk about it any +more, dear boy." + +"Who can Jack be?" and a surprising pang shot through Montague +Shirley's heart. "Jack, dear! Well, and what's it my business. +She is a stranger. She lives her life and I mine. But, at any +rate, that settles some silly things I've been thinking. I'm +less awake than she is." + +This time he tried with better success, and Helene rubbed her +eyes, with hands stiffened by the brisk bite of the chill wind. +She gazed at the dimly lit house, at the big figure beside her, +as Shirley sprang to the ground--then remembered it all, and +trembled despite herself. + +"Oh, it's you, Mr. Shirley," and she summoned up a little throaty +laugh, as she arose stiffly. "What a queer place to be in!" + +"We are a long way from New York's white lights, Miss Marigold. +This is the country home of a good old friend of mine. You can +remain here for the rest of the night, as his wife's guest. +To-morrow, when you are rested, he can send you to the city in +one of his cars." + +"You are the most curious man in two continents. I am bewildered. +First, you kidnap a chauffeur and privateer his car, then me. Now +you besiege a friend and wish to leave me on his doorstep as a +foundling." + +"I'm sorry--it's the exigency of war! We must finish what we +started. This is the only place I know where I could thoroughly +hide my trail. We must wake up Jim, but first I will have a look +at our guest." + +Shirley walked around the car, shooting the beam from his pocket +flashlight in through the open window of the taxi, to be met by +the wicked black eyes of his prisoner, who uttered volumes of +unpronounceable hatred. + +"You are still with us, little bright eyes. A pleasant trip, I +trust? I hope you found the air good--I tried to improve the +ventilation for your benefit, as well as my own." Only a subdued +gurgle answered him. + +"Oh, what will they think of me--in this immodest gown, with this +paint on my face, and at this hour of night?" pleaded Helene, as +he started toward the door of the mansion. + +"It would be awful at that," and Shirley paused at the beseeching +tone of the girl. "I want you to meet Mrs. Jim as well as Jim. +I am afraid they would think this was the echo of an old college +escapade, and misjudge you. Let me think--" + +He led her to a little summer-house close by, and tucked the big +coat about her as he added: "It's dark here--the wind doesn't +reach you, and I'll take you back to town in five minutes. Will +that do?" + +As she nodded, he hurried to the door where he yanked vigorously +at the bell. An angry head protruded from an upper story, after +many encores of the peals. + +"Aw, what the dickens? Go some place else and find out!" + +"Jim, Jim. It's Monty! Come down and let me in quick." + +The window closed with a bang as the head was withdrawn, while a +light soon appeared in the beveled panes of the big front door. + +"You poor boob," was the cheerful greeting as it swung wide, +"What brings you out here? I thought it was the usual joy party +which had lost its way. They always pick me out for an +information bureau. Come on in!" + +Shirley spoke rapidly, in a low tone. The girl in the dark +summer-house marveled at the rapid change of mien, as Jim +suddenly ran down the steps to gaze into the taxicab, then +nodding to Shirley. The house-holder as promptly returned +through his front door, while Shirley swiftly unmanacled the +prisoner enough to let him walk, stiff and awkward from the +long ordeal in the car. The stern grip, of his captor prompted +obedience. + +Friend Jim had appeared with warmer garments, carrying a lantern. +At the door of the stable Jim's stentorian yell to the groom +seemed useless, but the two men entered. Helene felt miserably +weak and deserted, in the chill night, but she was cheered by +seeing the energetic Shirley reappear, pushing open the doors of +the garage, which was connected with the stable. He hurried to +the deserted taxicab, where he seemed busied for several minutes, +the glow of his pocket lamp shooting out now and then. Through +the door of the garage a long, rakish-looking racing car was +being pushed out by Jim and his sleepy groom. There was a cheery +shout from the taxi, and Helene heard a ripping sound. Shirley +reappeared, carrying an oblong box. + +"I have the gas generator:--it was built in, under the seat, and +controlled by a battery wire from the front lamp, Jim. A nice +little mechanism. Well, old pal, please apologize to Mrs. +Merrivale for my rude interruption of her beauty sleep. Keep a +fatherly eye on Gentleman Mike, and the taxicab under cover. +I'll communicate with you very soon. So long." + +To Helene's amazement, Shirley cranked the racer, jumped in and +seemed to be starting away without her, down the sweep of the +driveway. Could he have forgotten her? The man must indeed +be mad, as some of his actions indicated! But her aroused +indignation was turned to admiration of his finesse, for suddenly +he veered the lights of the car toward the garage door, throwing +them in the faces of Jim and his servant. He leaped out again, +walking past the place of concealment. + +"Slip into the car, while I go inside with them. I'll come out +on the run, and no one will be the wiser." + +With this passing stage direction he rushed toward his +accomodating friend, with some final directions. They were +apparently humorous in content, for both the other men roared +with mirth, as he walked inside the building, with them, an arm +around the shoulder of each. Helene obeyed him, hiding as best +she could in the low seat of the throbbing machine. As Shirley +returned, Jim Merrivale was still laughing blithely. + +"Good-bye, you old maniac: you'll be the death of me. I'll take +care of the star boarder, however, and feed him champagne and +mushrooms." + +With a roar, Shirley started the engines, as he bounced into the +seat, and they sped down the curving driveway, with Helene +leaning forward, unobserved. + +"There, we've had a little by-play that friend Jim didn't guess. +I always enjoy a little intrigue," he laughed, as they whizzed +along toward distant New York. "But, I had to lie, and lie, and +lie--like the light that lies in women's eyes. What a jolly +game!" + +He was a big boy, happy in the excitement, and bubbling with his +superabundance of vitality. Helene felt curiously drawn toward +him, in this mood: she remembered a little paragraph she had read +in a book that day: + +"A woman loves a man for the boy spirit that she discovers in +him: she loves him out of pity when it dies!" Then she +fearsomely changed the current of her thoughts, to complain +pathetically of the cold wind! + +"There, now, I am so thoughtless," was his apology, as he stopped +the car, to wrap the overcoat more closely about her, and tuck +her comfortably in a big fur. Through the darkened streets of +the suburb they raced, entering the silent factory districts, +which presaged the nearness of the river. It was well on toward +daybreak before they rolled over the Queensboro Bridge to +Manhattan. It was his second day without sleep, but Shirley was +sustained by the bizarre nature of the exploit: he could have +kept at the steering wheel for an eternity. + +"Are you glad we're getting back?" he asked. Helene shook her +head, then she answered dreamily. + +"Do you remember something from one of Browning's poems, that I +do? It's just silly for us, but I understand it better now." + +Shirley surprised her by quoting it, as he looked ahead into the +dark street through which they swung, his unswerving hand steady +on the wheel: + + "What if we still ride on, we two, + With life forever old yet new, + Changed not in kind, but in degree, + The instant made eternity,-- + And heaven just prove that I and she + Ride, ride together, forever ride?" + +A quick flush, not caused by the biting wind, suffused her cheek +beneath the remnants of the rouge. Then she laughed up at him +appreciatively. + +"Curious how our minds ran that way, and hit the very same poem, +wasn't it?" + +Shirley smiled back, as he swung down Fifth Avenue. + +"Not so curious after all!" + +Soon they drew up before the ornate portal of the California +Hotel, where late arrivals were so customary as to cause no +comment. He bade her good-night, words seeming futile after +their long hours together. The drive in the car to the club was +short. Paddy the door man was instructed to send down to +Shirley's own garage for a mechanic to store the car until +further orders. The criminologist had ere this rubbed off his +grease paint, so that his appearance was not unusual. Once in his +rooms he treated himself to a piping hot shower, cleaned off the +powder from his dark locks, and as he smoked a soothing +cigarette, in his bathrobe, studied the mechanism of the +gas generator for a few moments. + +"That was made by an expert who understands infernal machines +with a malevolent genius. I must look out for him," he mused. +"Well, I promised Professor MacDonald that I would not sleep +until I had come face to face with the voice. I have fulfilled +the vow: now for forgetfulness." + +He tumbled into bed, but not to oblivion. For his dreams were +disturbed by tantalizing visions of certain sun-gold locks and +blue eyes not at all in their simple connection with the business +end of the Van Cleft mystery. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE HAND OF THE VOICE + + +It took stoicism to the Nth degree for Shirley to respond to the +early telephone call next morning, from the clerk of the club. A +few minutes of violent exercise, in the hand ball court, the +plunge, a short swim in the natatorium and a rub down from the +Swedish masseur, however, brought him around to the mood for +another adventure. Sending for the racing car he began the +round-up of details. There was, first of all, Captain Cronin to +be visited in Bellevue. Here he was agreeably surprised to find +the detective chief recuperating with the abettance of his rugged +Celtic physique. The nurse told Shirley that another day's +treatment would allow the Captain to return to his own home: +Shirley knew this meant the executive office of the Holland +Detective Agency. + +"And sure, Monty, when I have a free foot once again, I'm going +to apply it to them gangsters who put me to sleep." + +"Just what I want you to do, Captain! I 'phoned to your men this +morning while I had breakfast at the club: they have that taxicab +which was left near Van Cleft's house. It's put away safely, +Cleary said. There are two gangsters where the dogs won't bite +them; today they are sending out to Jim Merrivale's house to get +the third and he'll be busy with a little private third degree. +I have no evidence which would connect the man who tried to kill +me last night with the other murders, except in a circumstantial +way. What I must do is to follow up the trail, and get the +gentleman carrying out the bales, in other words, with the goods +on him." + +"You'll get him, Monty, if I know you. The fellow hasn't called +up at all on the telephone to-day. I think he's afraid of you." + +"No, Captain Cronin, not that! He's up to some new game. Well, +I'm off--take care of yourself and don't eat anything the nurse +doesn't bring you with her own hands. I wouldn't put anything +past this gang." + +He shook hands and hurried out of the hospital, with several +more errands to complete. He looked vainly about him for the +gray racing-car. It was gone! Here was another unexpected +interference with his work, and Shirley, sotto voce, expressed +himself more practically than politely. He hurried to an +ambulance driver who stood in a doorway, solacing his jangled +nerves with a corn-cob smoke. + +"Neighbor, did you see any one take the gray car standing here a +few minutes ago?" + +"Yep, a feller just came out of the hospital entry, cranked her +and jumped in." + +"How long ago?" + +"Well, I just returned with a suicide actor case five minutes +ago." + +"Then you might have seen him enter first?" + +"Nope. Not a sign. All I seen was the way he cranked the +machine, and he didn't waste any elbow grease doin' it, either. +He knew the trick. That's what I thought when I seen him, even +if he did look like a dude." + +Shirley hurried to the entry once more. This was the only portal +through which visitors were admitted to the hospital for the +purpose of calling on patients. He hastened to the uniformed +attendant who took down the names of all applicants. This man, +upon inquiry, was a trifle dubious. True, there had been two +Italian women and before them--yes, there had been a young chap +with a green velour hat, and white spats. He had asked about a +Captain Cronin, and when told that a visitor was already seeing +the patient, agreed to wait outside. It had been about five +minutes before. The man was indefinite about more details. +Shirley hurried to the telephone booth in the corridor. To +Headquarters he reported the theft of car "99835 N.Y.," giving a +description of its special features and its make. This warning +he knew would be telephoned to all stations within five minutes, +so that every policeman in New York would be on the lookout for +the missing machine. Satisfied, he left the hospital, to walk +across the long block to the nearest north and south avenue, +where he might catch a surface car. + +Suddenly he halted, to mutter in astonishment at a sight which +was the surprise of the morning: it was the missing car standing +peacefully on the next corner. + +"I wonder what that means?" he murmured, as he stopped to study +with great interest the window of an Italian green grocer. A +sidelong glance at the car and its surroundings revealed nothing +out of the way. He retraced his steps to the hospital, wasted +ten minutes with a cigarette or two, and still no one seemed to +take an interest in the automobile. Finally he walked up to the +car, trying the lock of which he had the only key. Apparently it +had been untampered with, for the key worked perfectly. Here was +Jim Merrivale's car, a good three hundred yards away from the +place where he had locked it to prevent any moving. He felt +certain that keen eyes had him under surveillance, yet he could +not observe any observers within the range of his own vision. It +was simply a stupid, quiet slum neighborhood and at the time, +unusually deserted by the customary hordes of children and dogs! + +What had been the purpose in moving it such a short distance? + +Where had it been in the twenty-five minutes since he had left it +at the entrance to the hospital? + +Why had it been left here, of all places, where he would +naturally walk if desirous of taking a street-car? + +There seemed no immediate answer to the conundrums. So, he +nonchalantly clambered into the car, after cranking it. The +mechanism seemed in perfect order. Puzzled, he started to speed +up the street, when he observed a white envelope close by his +foot, on the floor of the car. + +He picked it up, and tearing it open quickly read this simple +message. + +"To whom it may concern: It is frequently advisable to mind your +own business--is it not? Answer: Yes!" + +"Huh," grunted Shirley. "While not thrilling in originality, it +is a lasting truth which nobody can deny. I'll save this and +frame it on the walls of my rooms." + +As he drove around the corner and up the Avenue, there was +suddenly a terrific explosion, which threw him completely out of +the machine! The car, without a driver, its engines whirring +madly, dashed into a helpless corner fruit stand, scattering +oranges, bananas, apples and desolation in its wake, as it vainly +endeavored to climb to the second story with super-mechanical +intelligence! Shirley, stunned and bruised, fell to the pavement +where he lay until an excited patrolman rushed to his rescue. + +A little "first aid" work brought Shirley back to consciousness, +and he stiffly rose to his feet, with a head throbbing too much +for any real thinking. + +"What's the matter with your auto?" cried the policeman. "Can't +you run it? Let's see the number." The officer took out his +notebook, to jot down the details according to police rules. +Then he turned on Shirley in amazement. "Be gorry, it's car +99835 N.Y. I just wrote the number down when I came on post with +my squad! This car is stolen. You come with me!" + +Shirley had been adjusting the mechanism, and the wheels had +ceased their whirring. He tried to expostulate in a dazed way, +realizing that for once the department was working with a +vengeful promptness. He was hoist by his own petard! + +"I'm the owner of the car," he began, rubbing his aching +forehead. + +"What's yer name?" + +"Montague Shirley!" The policeman laughed, as he caught the +criminologist by the shoulder, and blew his whistle for another +man from post duty. + +"You lie. This car is owned by James Merrivale. You can't put +over raw stuff like that on me. I'm no rookie--Here, Joe," (as +the other policeman ran up through the growing, jeering crowd,) +"watch this machine. This guy's one of them auto Raffles, and I +done a good job when I lands him. I'm going to the station-house +now." + +The other policeman was examining the car, when he called to his +fellow officer: "Here, Sim, did you see this car was blown up +inside the seat?" + +Shirley, his acuteness returned by this time, ran to the car +eluding his captor's hold. He had not observed before the jagged +shattered hole torn in the side of the leather side. It had all +happened so swiftly, that his professional instincts were slow in +reasserting themselves after the "buck" of the car. + +"You're right," he exclaimed. "There's an alarm clock and a dry +battery--the same man made this who built the gas-generator--" + +"Whadd'ye mean--ain't you the feller after all?" asked the first +patrolman, beginning to get dubious about his arrest. + +"No, I am no thief. But just take me to the station-house quick, +and turn in your report. Let this other man guard that car. +Hurry up!" + +"Say, feller, who do you think is making this arrest? You'll go +to the station-house when I get ready." + +"Then you're ready now," snapped the criminologist. "You'll see +me discharged very promptly, when I speak to the Commissioner +over the wire." + +The officer was supercilious until the station-house was reached. +He had heard this blatant talk before. What was his surprise +when Shirley telephoned to the head of the Department and then +called the Captain to the instrument. + +"Release Mr. Shirley at once," was the crisp order. "Give him +any men or assistance he needs." + +"Well, whadd'ye know about that? Not even entered on the blotter +to credit me with a good arrest!" The patrolman turned away in +disgust. + +"Do you want any of the reserves, sir?" The Captain was +scrupulously polite. + +"Not one. I'm going to study that machine again. You might +detail a plain clothes man to walk along the other side of the +street for luck. Good-day." + +The automobile to which he returned was still the object of +community interest. Shirley took the remains of the bomb which +had caused his sudden elevation. The policeman approached him +from the fruit store. + +"The man wants damages for the stock you destroyed, mister. I'll +fix it up with him if you want--about twenty-five dollars will +do." + +"Well, hand him this five-dollar bill and see if that won't dry +some of the imported tears," retorted Shirley with a laugh. In a +few minutes he was bowling along on a surface car, to the club. +There was no longer any use in trying to hide his identity or +address, for the conspirators knew at least of his interest and +assistance in the case: although in this as all others he was not +known to be a professional sleuth. + +In the quiet of his room he drew out magnifying glasses and other +instruments for a thorough analysis of the remains of the +infernal machine. He compared this with the mechanism of the +gas-generator which had been placed in the seat of the Death +taxi. There was evidence that it had come from the same source. +Shirley sniffed at the generator and the peculiar odor still +clinging to it was familiar. + +"Well, I think I will have a little surprise for Mr. Voice, the +next time we grapple, which will be an encore of his own tune, +with a new verse!" + +He went to a cabinet, took out a small glass vial, filled with a +limpid liquid and placed it within his own pocket. Then he +prepared for a new line of activities for the day. His first +duty was a call on Pat Cleary, superintendent of the Holland +Agency. + +"The Captain is progressing splendidly," was his answer to the +anxious query. "He will be back in the harness again to-morrow. +How are the prisoners?" + +"They have tried to break out twice and gave my doorman a black +eye. But they got four in return: Nick is no mollycoddle, you +know. I can't quite get the number of these fellows, for they +are not registered down at Headquarters, in the Rogue's Gallery. +Their finger-prints are new ones in this district, too. They +look like imported birds, Mr. Shirley. What do you think?" + +Cleary's opinion of the club man had been gaining in ascendency. + +"They may be visitors from another city, but I think the state +will keep them here as guests for a nice long time, Cleary. They +say New York is inhospitable to strangers, but we occasionally +pay for board and room from the funds of the taxpayers without a +kick. We saved the day for the Van Clefts, all right. The paper +told of a beautiful but quiet funeral ceremony, while the +daughter has postponed her marriage for six months." + +Then he recounted the adventure of the exploding car. Cleary lit +his malodorous pipe, and shook his head thoughtfully. + +"Young man, you know your own affairs best. But with all your +money, you'd better take to the tall pines yourself, like these +old guys in the 'Lobster Club.' That's the advice of a man who's +in the business for money not glory. This is a bum game. +They'll get me some day, some of these yeggs or bunk artists that +I've sent away for recuperation, as the doctors call it. But I'm +doing it for bread and beefsteak, while it lasts. You run along +and play--a good way from the fire, or you'll get more than your +fingers burnt. Take their hint and beat it while the beating's +good." + +A glint of steel shone from the eyes of the criminologist as he +lit another cigarette and took up his walking-stick. + +"Why, Cleary, this is what I call real sport. Why go hunting +polar bears and tigers when we've got all this human game around +the Gold Coast of Manhattan? I'm tired of furs: I want a few +scalps. Good-morning." + +As Cleary went up the stairway to renew the ginger of the Third +Degree for the two prisoners, he smiled to himself, and muttered: + +"The guy ain't such a boob as he looks: he's just a high-class +nut. I'd enjoy it myself if it wasn't my regular work." + +At Dick Holloway's office Shirley was greeted with an eager +demand for his report of the former evening's activities. An +envious look was on the face of the theatrical manager. + +"Shucks, Monty! It's a shame that all this sport is private +stock, and can't be bottled up and peddled to the public, for +they're just crazy about gangster melodrama. They're paying +opera prices for the old time ten-twent-and-thirt-melodrama, +right on Broadway. Hurry up and get the man and I'll have him +dramatized while the craze is rampant." + +"Not while I own the copyright," retorted Shirley, "this is one +of the chapters of my life that isn't going to be typewritten, +much less the subject of gate-receipts." + +"I'm not so certain of that," and Holloway's smile was quizzical. + +"What do you mean? Who is this Helene Marigold? I have a right +to know in a case like this." + +"Good intuition, as far as you go. But you're guessing wrong, +for she has nothing to do with my little joke. But why worry +about her?" laughed Holloway. His friend had leaned forward, +intensely, clutching his cane, with an unusually serious look on +his face. Holloway had never seen Shirley take such an interest +in any woman before. He arose from his desk-chair and walked to +the broad window, which overlooked the thronging sidewalks of +Broadway. + +"Down there is the biggest, busiest street in the world filled +with women of all hues and shades. This is the first time you +ever looked so anxious about any combination of lace, curls, +silks and gew-gaws before. You have been the bright and shining +example of indifferent bachelor freedom which has made me--thrice +divorced--so envious of your unalloyed, unalimonied joy. Don't +betray the feet of clay which have supported my idol!" + +The baffling smile of the debonair club man returned to Shirley's +face, as he twitted back: "Purely an altruistic inquiry, Dick. I +feared that you might be risking your own heart and the modicum +of freedom which you still possess. But I'll wager a supper-party +for four that I'll find out who she is, without either you or she +telling me." + +"Taken. At last I'm to have a free banquet, after years of +business entertaining. You have met a girl who will match your +wits--I expect the sparks to fly. Well, she's worth while--I +might do worse--but in perfect fairness she ought to do better. +How about it?" + +"Yes, with Jack," and Shirley tapped the walking stick on the +floor with an emphatic thump, while Holloway regarded him in +startled surprise. + +"Who is Jack?" + +"You see--I am learning already. But, you and I are drifting +from my task. I wish that you would take me to call on Miss +Marigold, in my present lack of disguise. I do not care for that +ancient garb any longer. It was stretching the chances rather +far, but thanks to the darkness, the champagne, and good fortune, +I succeeded in impersonating our aged friend without detection. +I will not return to Grimsby's house, but propose now to get down +to brass tacks with Mr. Voice, even though the tacks be hard to +sit upon. I wish to use her as a bait, by taking her out to tea +and getting a first-hand speaking acquaintance with these +convivial assassins." + +"Monty, you are wasting your talents outside the pages of a play +manuscript, but we will make that call instanter." + +In leisure, they promenaded up the crowded Gay Wide Way, through the +noontime crowd of theatrical folk who dot the thoroughfare in this +part of the city. His adversaries were to have every opportunity to +observe his movements and draw their own conclusions. At the Hotel +California new comment buzzed between the garrulous clerk and the +switchboard person, at sight of the well-known manager and his +prosperous-looking companion. + +"Who is that come on?" asked the clerk of the bellboy. + +"Sure, dat's Montague Shirley, one of dem rich ginks from de +College Club on Forty-fourth Street, where I used to woik in de +check room. If I had dat guy's money I'd buy a hotel like dis." + +"Then I see where Holloway, with that blonde dame upstairs, will +be putting on a new musical show, with a new angel. It's a great +business, Miss Gwendolyn--no wonder they call it art." And the +clerk removed a silk handkerchief from his coat cuff, to dust the +register wistfully. "Why didn't I devote my talents to the drama +instead of room-keys and due-bills?" + +But Miss Gwendolyn was too busy talking to the Milwaukee drummer +in Room 72 to formulate a logical reason. Shirley and Holloway +improved the time by taking the elevator to the top floor where +Helene greeted them at the door of her pretty apartment. She +welcomed them happily, declaring it had been a lonesome morning. + +"Weren't you resting from that long thrill of last night, in +which you starred?" asked Holloway. + +"It was too thrilling for me to sleep: I know I look a perfect +frump, this morning. I tossed on the pillow, watching the dawn +over your towering New York roofs, so nervous and almost +miserable. But, with company, it's all right again." + +Holloway laughed inwardly at the warmth of the glance which she +bestowed upon Shirley. From the angle of an audience, he was +beginning to observe a phase of this double play of personalities +which was unseen by either of the participants. Two sleepless +nights, after such a first evening together, and what then? He +imagined the denouement, with a growing enjoyment of his +vantage-point as the game advanced. + +"To-day, I am reversing the usual progress of history," said +Shirley, as he sat down in the window-seat. "From second +juvenility I am returning to the first. In other words, I wish +to become your adoring suitor in the role of Montague Shirley." + +"I don't understand," and her eyes widened in wonder, not without +an accompanying blush which did not escape Holloway. + +"No longer a lamb in sheep's clothing, I want to entertain you, +without the halo of William Grimsby's millions. I want to take +tea with these gentle-voiced cut-throats, who after my warning +to-day, are directing their attention to me." He narrated the +narrow escape from death in the racing-car. Helene's eyes +darkened with an uncertainty which he had hardly expected. +Perhaps she would refuse to carry out their compact along these +dangerous lines. + +"Do you feel it wise to place yourself beneath this new menace?" + +"The sword of Damocles is over me now, I know. To run would be a +confession of weakness and open the field for his further +activities, with the rear-guard continuously exposed. There is +nothing like the personal equation. I will call at five this +afternoon, if you are willing, Miss Marigold?" + +"I will fight it out to the end," and she placed her warm hand +firmly within his own. The two friends departed, Shirley +retracing his steps to the club where many things were to be +studied and planned. His system of debit and credit records of +facts known and needed, was one which brought finite results. As +he smoked and pondered at his ease, a tapping on the study door +aroused him from his vagrant speculations. At his call, a +respectful Japanese servant presented a note, just left by a +messenger-boy. He tore the envelope and read it. + +"Montague Shirley:--The third time is finis. As a friend you +accomplished the purpose you sought. There is no grudge against +you. Why seek one? It is fatal for you to remain in the city. +Leave while you have time." + +That was all. The chirography was the same as that upon the note +of the racing-car episode. Shirley locked up the missive in his +cabinet, and smiled at the increasing tenseness of the situation. + +"The writer of these two notes may have an opportunity to leave +town himself before long, to rest his nerves in the quiet valley +of the Hudson, at Ossining. My friend the enemy will soon be +realizing a deficit in his rolling-stock and gentlemanly +assistants. Two automobiles and three prisoners to date. There +should be additional results before midnight. I wonder where he +gardens into fruition these flowers of crime?" + +And even as he pondered, a curious scene was being enacted within +a dozen city blocks of the commodious club house. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE SPIDER'S WEB + + +The setting was a bleak and musty cellar, beneath an old stable +of dingy, brick construction. The building had been modernized +to the extent of one single decoration on the street front, an +electric sign: "Garage." On the floor, level with the sidewalk, +stood half a dozen automobiles of varied manufacture and age. +Near the wide swinging doors of oak, stood a big, black +limousine. Two taxicabs of the usual appearance occupied the +space next to this, while a handsome machine faced them on the +opposite side of the room. Two ancient machines were backed +against the wall, in the rear. + +In the basement beneath, several men were grouped in the front +compartment, which was separated by a thick wooden partition from +the rear of the cellar. Three dusty incandescents illuminated +this space. In the back a curious arrangement of two large +automobile headlights set on deal tables directed glaring rays +toward the one door of the partition. In the center of the rear +room was another table, standing behind a screen of wire gauze, +at the bottom of which was cut a small semicircle, large enough +for the protrusion of a white, tense hand, whose fingers were +even now spasmodically clenching in nervous indication of fury. +Behind either lamp was a heavy black screen, which effectually +shut off ingress to that portion of the room. + +The man standing between the table and the closed door of the +partition, full in the light of the lamps, watched the hand as +though fascinated. He could see nothing else, for behind the +gauze all was darkness. Absolutely invisible, sat the possessor +of the hand, observing the face of his interviewer, on the +brighter side of the gauze. + +"So, there's no word from the Monk?" + +"No, chief. De bloke's disappeared. Either he got so much swag +offen dis old Grimsby guy, after youse got de bumps, or he had +cold feet and beat it wid de machine," + +"It's a crooked game on me." rasped the voice behind the screen. +"I'll send him up for this. You know how far my lines go out. +What about Dutch Jake and Ben the Bite?" + +The man before the screen shook his head in helpless bewilderment +There was a suggestion of fright in his manner, as well. + +"Can't find out a t'ing, gov'nor. I hopes you don't blame me for +dis. I'm doin' my share. Dey just disappears dat night w'en you +sends 'em to shadder Van Cleft's joint. My calcerlation is--" + +"I'm not paying you to calculate. I've trusted you and lost six +thousand dollars' worth of automobiles for my pains. You can +just calculate this, that unless I get some news about Jake, Ben +and the Monk by this time tomorrow, I'll send some news down to +Police headquarters on Lafayette Street that will make you wish +you had never been born." + +For some reason not difficult to guess, the suggestion had a +galvanic effect on the bewildered one. His hands trembled as he +raised them imploringly to the screen. + +"Oh, gov'nor, wot have I done? Ain't I been on de level wid yez? +Say, I ain't never even seen yez for de fourteen months I've been +yer gobetween. I've been beat up by de cops, pinched and sent to +de workhouse 'cause I wouldn't squeal, and now ye t'reatens me. +Did I ever fall down on a trick ontil dis week? You'se ain't +goin' ter welch on me, are you'se? I ain't no welcher meself, +an' ye knows it." + +The other snapped out curtly: "Very well, cut out the sob stuff. +It's up to you to prove that there hasn't been a leak somewhere +or a double cross. Send in those rummies,--I want to give them +the once over again. There's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, +and I'm no abolitionist! Quick now. Get a wiggle on." + +The hand was withdrawn from the little opening, as the lieutenant +advanced into the front compartment of the cellar. He beckoned +meaningly to the others to follow him. They obeyed with a +slinking walk, which showed that they were obsessed by some great +dread, in that unseen presence, in the heart of the spider-web! + +"Which one of you is the stool pigeon," came the harsh query. + +"W'y, gov'nor, none of us. You'se knows us," whined one of the +men. + +"Yes, and I know enough to send you all to Atlanta or Sing Sing +or Danamora, for the rest of your rotten lives, if I want to." + +The rascals stared vainly into the black vacuum of the screen, +blinking in the glaring lights, cowering instinctively before the +unseen but certain malignancy of the power behind that mysterious +wall. + +"I brought you here to New York," continued the master, "you are +making more money with less work and risk than ever before. But +you're playing false with me, and I know some one is slipping +information where it oughtn't to go. I'm going to skin alive the +one who I catch. There's one eye that never sleeps, don't forget +that." + +"Gee, boss, wot do we know to slip?" advanced the most forward of +them. "We follers orders, and gets our kale and dat's all. We +ain't never even seen ya, and don't know even wot de whole game +is. Don't queer us, gov'nor!" + +"Go out front again, and shut off this blab. I warn you that's +all-Now, Phil, give this to the men. Tell them to keep off the +cocaine--they're getting to be a lot of bone heads lately. Too +much dope will spoil the best crook in the world." + +The white hand passed out a roll of crisp, new currency to the +lieutenant of the gang, who gingerly reached for it, as though he +expected the tapering fingers to claw him. + +"Fifty dollars to each man. No holding out. Remember, every one +of them is spying on the other to me. I'm not a Rip Van Winkle. +Now, I want you to keep this fellow Montague Shirley covered but +don't put him away until I give you the word. Send the bunch +upstairs, for I don't want to be disturbed the next two hours. +And just keep off the coke yourself. You're scratching your face +a good deal these days--I know the signs." + +Phil expostulated nervously. "Oh, gov'nor, I ain't no fiend--just +once and a while I gets a little rummy, and brightens up. It takes +too much money to git it now, anyway. Goodbye, chief." + +As he closed the wooden door to pay the gangsters, there was a +slight grating noise, which followed a double click. A bar of +wood automatically slid down into position behind the door, +blocking a possible opening from the front of the cellar. The +lights suddenly were darkened. The sound of shuffling feet would +have indicated to a listener that the owner of the nervous hand +was retreating to the rear of the darkened den. A noise +resembling that of the turn of a rusty hinge might have then been +heard: there was a metallic clang, the rattle of a sliding chain +and the rear room was as empty as it was black! + +In the front room, after payment from the red-headed ruffian, +Phil, the men clambered in single file up a wooden ladder to the +street level. A trap-door was put into place and closed. Then +the men began to shoot "craps" for a readjustment of the spoils, +with the result that Red Phil, as his henchmen called him, was +the smiling possessor of most of the money, without the erstwhile +necessity of "holding out." + +Then the gangsters scattered to the nearby gin-shops to while +away the time before darkness should call for their evil +activities. It was a cheerful little assortment of desperadoes, +yet in appearance they did not differ from most of the habitues +of New York garages, those cesspools of urban criminality. + +From his club, Shirley telephoned Jim Merrivale in his downtown +office, purposely giving another name, as he addressed his +friend--a pseudonym upon which they had agreed during the night +call. Shirley was suspicious of all telephones, by this time, +and his guarded inquiry gave no possible clue to a wiretapping +eavesdropper. + +"How is the new bull-dog?" was the question, after the first +guarded greeting. "Is he still muzzled?" + +"Yes, Mr. Smith," responded Merrivale, "and the meanest specimen +I have ever seen outside a Zoo! When I sent the groom out to +feed him this morning, he snarled and tried to claw him. He's on +a hunger strike. I looked up the license number on his collar +but he's not registered in this state." (This, Shirley knew, +meant the automobile tag under the machine which had been +captured.) + +"When are you apt to send for him--I don't think I'll keep him any +longer than I can help." + +"I'll send out from the dog store, with a letter signed by me. +Feed him a little croton oil to cure his disposition. Good-bye, +for now, Jim. I'll write you, this day." + +Shirley hung up, and smiled with satisfaction at the news. The +man would be glad to get bread and water, before long, he felt +assured. However, he despatched a note to Cleary, of the Holland +Agency, enclosing a written order to Merrivale to deliver over +the prisoner, for safer keeping in the city. + +This disposed of the started out from the club house for his +afternoon of dissipation. As he left the doorway, he noticed the +two men with the black caps standing not far away. They were +engrossed in the rolling of cigarettes, but the swift glance +which they shot at him did not escape Monty. + +"Like the poor and the bill collectors, they are always with us," +was his thought, as he calmly strolled over to the Hotel +California. He determined to place them in a quiet, sheltered +retreat at the earliest opportunity. He found Helene more +attractive than ever. + +"Shall I put on this wretched rouge again to-day," was the +plaintive question, after the first greeting. "I hate it so +--and yet, will do whatever you order." + +"Your role calls for it, my dear girl. Perhaps we may close the +dramatic engagement sooner than we expect. To-night should be an +eventful one, for I will accept every lead which Reginald Warren +offers. I would like to have a record of his voice, and that of +some of his friends. There is a difference between the telephone +voice and that heard face to face,--you would be a good witness +if I could persuade him to sing or speak for me into a record. +You can straighten out the difficulties of this case, if you +will, in a thoroughly feminine manner." + +"And what, sir, is that, I pray you?" + +"Give him the opportunity--to fall in love with you." + +Helene's cheeks flushed a stronger carmine than the rouge which +she was administering, as she looked up in quick embarrassment. + +"I don't want him to love me. I want no man to love me," was the +petulant answer. + +"Doubtless you have reason to be satisfied as things are," +replied Shirley, puffing a cigarette, "but the softness of +cerebral conditions increases in direct ratio with the mushiness +of the affections. If it is important to us--and you are my +partner in this fascinating business venture--will you not +sacrifice your emotions to that extent: merely to let him lead +himself on, as most men do?" He paused for a critical +observation of her, and then added: "You are even more beautiful +to-day than you were yesterday. He cannot help loving you if he +is given the chance!" + +Helene's white fingers crushed the orchid which she was pinning +to the bosom of her gown. Her intent gaze met the mask of +Shirley's ingenuous smile, reading in his telltale eyes a message +which needed no court interpreter! Quickly she turned to her +mirror to put the finishing touches to her coiffure, the golden +curls so alluringly wilful. + +"Your flattery, sir, is very cruel. Beware! I may take it +seriously. What would happen if my verdant heart were to fall a +victim to the cunning wiles of the voice? Remember, I have only +met two men, since I came to America, yesterday. And they are +both pronounced woman-haters. I will take you at your word, +about Mr. Reginald Warren, and loosen my blandishments to the +best of my rustic ability." + +A wayward twinkle in her eyes should have warned Shirley that she +was planning a little mischief. But, he was too preoccupied in +finding the real front of her baffling street cloak to observe +it. They left for the tearoom, while Helene still laughed to +herself over certain subtle possibilities which she saw in the +situation. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A PILGRIMAGE INTO FRIVOLITY + + +Rather early, again, for the usual throng, they were able to +choose their position to their liking: to-day, it was in the +center of the big room, close by the space cleared for the +dancing. Gradually the tables were occupied, apparently by the +identical people of the afternoon before, so marked is the +peculiar character of the dance-mad individuality. To-day he +varied his menu with a mild order of cocktails--for now he was +not emulating the Epicurean record of the bibulous Grimsby. They +observed with amusement the weird contortions, seldom graced by a +vestige of rhythm or beauty, with which the intent dancers spun +and zigzagged. + +"Considering how much money they pay to learn these steps from +dancing-masters, there is unusually small value in the market, +Miss Marigold. I resigned myself to the approach of the sunset +years, and became a voluntary exile in the garden of the +wallflowers, when society dancing became mathematical." + +"I don't understand?" + +"Once it was possible to chat, to smile, to woo or to silently +enjoy the music and the measures of the dance in company with a +sympathetic partner. Now, however, since the triumph of the 'New +Mode,' one must count 'one-two-three,' and one's partner is more +captious than a schoolmarm! What puzzles me is the need for new +steps, to be learned from expensive teachers, when it's so easy +to slide down hill in this part of New York. But here endeth the +sermon, for I recognize the amiable Pinkie at that other table, +where she is studying your face with the malevolence of a cobra." + +Helene slowly turned her eyes toward the other girl, who now +advanced with forced effusiveness. + +"Oh, my dear, and you're back again today. But where is dear old +Grimmie; he is a nice old soul, though a trifle near-sighted. He +wasn't half seas over last night--he was a war-zone submarine, +out for a long-distance record!" + +She impudently seated herself at the table with them, sending a +questioning glance at the handsome companion of her quondam +rival. Helene instinctively drew back, but a warning glance from +Shirley plunged her into her assumed character, and she greeted +the other girl with the quasi-comradeship of their class. + +"Oh, yes, dear. Grimsby was a little poisoned by the salad or +something like that: he was actually disagreeable with me, of all +people in the world. But, I have so many friends that Grimsby +does not give me any worry. He means nothing in my life. You +seemed quite worried over him, though--" + +"Yes, girlie," was Pinkie's effort to parry. "I was upset--not +because he was with you, but to see the old chap showing his age. +His taste has deteriorated so much since he started wearing +glasses. But why don't you introduce me to your gentleman +friend?" + +Helene's faint smile expressed volumes, as she turned toward the +modest Shirley with a bow of condescension. "This is Pinkie, one +of old Grimsby's sweethearts, Mr. Shirley. I'm sure you'll like +her." + +"Are you Montague Shirley?" demanded the auburn-haired coquette +with sudden interest. As Shirley nodded, she caught his hand +with an ardent glance, ogling him impressively, as she continued: +"I've heard a lot of you. I'm just that pleased to meet you!" + +An indefinable resentment crept over Helene. How could this +creature of the demi-monde have even distant acquaintance of such +a wholesome, superior man as her escort? The effusiveness was +irritating, and the overacted kittenishness of the girl made her +sick at heart, although she betrayed no sign of her feeling. +Helene could not understand that despite its mammoth size, New +York is relatively provincial in the club and theatrical +community, his acquaintanceship numbering into the thousands. +Town Topics, the social gossipers of the newspapers and talkative +club men bandied names about in such wise that it was easy for +members of Pinkie's profession to satisfy their hopeful +curiosity--prompted by visions of eventual social conquest on the +one hand and a professional desire to memorize street numbers on +the Wealth Highway for ultimate financial manipulations. As one +of the richest members of the exclusive bachelor set, Montague +Shirley, even unknown to himself, occupied reserved niches in the +ambitions of a hundred and one fair plotters! + +"You will honor us by taking a drink, Miss Pinkie?" was the +criminologist's courteous overture. + +"Pinkie Marlowe, if you want to know the rest of my name. Yes, I +need a little absinthe to wake me up, for I just finished +breakfast. We had a large party last night at Reg Warren's. Why +don't you dance with me?" + +"The old adage about fat men never being loved applies especially +to those who brave the terrors of the fox-trot. I weigh two +hundred, so I wisely sit under the trees and laugh at the +others." + +"You two hundred?" and admiration flashed from Pinkie's emotional +eyes, "I don't believe it. Why, you're just right! I could +dance with a man like you all night!" + +Helene's helplessness only fanned the flames of her inward fury +at the brazen intent of the girl. She forgot about Jack and even +her plans about Reginald Warren. But Shirley's purpose was now +rewarded, for Pinkie acted as the magnet to draw over several of +the gilded youths whom they had met the day before. More +introductions followed, and additional refreshments were soon +gracing the table. Shine Taylor was the next to join the party, +and erelong the waited-for visitor was approaching them. His +eyes were upon Shirley from the instant that he entered the room: +he advanced directly toward their table with a certainty which +proved to Monty that method was in every move. + +"What a pleasant surprise, little Bonbon!" exclaimed this +gentleman as he drew up to their table. "I'm so glad. I was +afraid you wouldn't get home safely with Grimsby; he was so +absolutely overcome last night. He promised to bring you to my +little entertainment but didn't show up. What became of him?" + +"Join us in a drink and forget him," suggested Helene, as she +took his hand with an innocently stupid smile. "This is Mr. +Shirley, Mr.--Mr.--I had so much champagne last night I forgot +your name." + +"Warren, that's simple enough. Glad to see you, Mr. Sherwood, +oh, Shirley! It seems as though I had heard your name--aren't +you an actor, or an artist? A musician, or something like that? +My memory is so miserable." + +"I'm just a 'something like that,' not even an actor," was the +answer, as the tiniest of nudges registered Helene's +appreciation. "What is your favorite poison?" + +Warren gave him a startled look, and then laughed: "Oh, you mean +to drink? Now you must join me for I am the intruder." He drew +out a roll of money; more nice, new hundred dollar bills. +Shirley remembered that old Van Cleft had drawn several thousand +dollars from his office the night of the murder. Even his +trained stoicism rebelled at thought of drinking a cocktail +bought with this bloody currency! + +"You didn't tell me about Grimsby?" persisted Warren, turning to +Helene, with an admiring scrutiny of the girl's charms. "I'm +rather interested." + +"You'll have to ask him, not me. After we took a taxi from the +Winter-Garden we had a ride in the Park. So stupid, I thought, +at this time of the year. When I woke up, Grimmie was helping me +into the entrance of the hotel. He was very cross with the +chauffeur and with me, too. Then he took the taxi and went home, +still angry." + +"So!" after a moment's silence, Warren continued, a puzzled look +on his face. "What was the trouble? I don't see how any one +could be cross with a nice little girl like you. But to-night, +I'm to have another little party up at my house. Bring some one +up, who won't be cross. You come, Mr. Shirley?" + +Helene hesitated, but Monty acquiesced. + +"That would be splendid. What time?" + +"About eleven. I'll expect you--I must run along now, as I'm +ordering some fancy dishes." + +Shirley had paid his waiter, and he rose with Helene. + +"We must be leaving, too. I'll accept your invitation." + +"And I'll be there, too, Mr. Shirley," put in Pinkie Marlowe. +"I'll teach you some new steps. Reggie has a wonderful +phonograph for dancing, with all the new tunes. See you later, +girlie." + +They were accompanied to the door by Shine and Warren. At the +check-room, Shirley was interested to note that Shine Taylor took +out his green velour hat. His feet were adorned with white +spats. After the door of their taxi had slammed he confided to +Helene that he had located the gentleman who had caused his wreck +that morning. Still, however, the clues were too weak for +action. The car went first to the club, where Shirley sent in +for any possible letters or messages. The servant brought out a +note. It was another surprise. He gave an address to the driver +and as the car turned up Fifth Avenue, he studied this missive +with knit brows. + +"A new worry?" asked Helene. "May I help you?" + +He handed her the letter, and she noticed the nervous +handwriting. It was short. + +"Dear Mr. Shirley: Just received a threatening note demanding +money. Can you come up at once? Howard V. C." + +Shirley answered the question in the blue eyes, as she finished. + +"As I thought it would turn out. Baffled in their game of +robbing old men who have all left the city, they have begun to +work the chance for blackmail. I will advise Van Cleft to pay +them, and then we will follow the money. Here is the mansion and +I will be out in five minutes." + +He soon disappeared behind the bronze door. True to his promise, +in five minutes he had returned. He looked up and down the +Avenue amazed. Not a trace of the taxicab, nor of Helene +Marigold could be seen! + +Shirley's impulse was to pinch himself to awaken from the +chimera. He knew she was armed, and would use the weapon if only +to call for help. For the first time in his career the chill of +terror crept into his heart--not for himself, but an irresistible +dread of some impending danger for this unfathomable woman who +had shared his dangers so uncomplainingly during this last +wonderful day. He racked his mind vainly for some plausible +reason. "She knows I need her. Yet at the supreme moment of the +game she disappears. Can she be like other women, when she is +most necessary?" + +And he walked slowly down the Avenue, disconcerted, endeavoring +to solve this sudden abortion of his best laid plans. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +CONCERNING HELENE'S FINESSE + + +Shirley endured a miserable three hours, in his attempts to +locate the girl. She had not returned to the Hotel California, +and he returned to the club in moody reflection. It was +beginning to snow, and the ground was soon covered with a thin +coat of white, through which he noticed his footprints stenciled +against the black of the wet pavement. He wasted a dozen matches +in the freshening wind, as he tried to light a cigarette. He +stepped into a doorway on the Avenue to avail himself of its +shelter. As he turned out to the street again, he almost bumped +into two men, wearing black caps! One of them grunted a curt +apology, as he stepped on. + +"They are after me as usual," he thought. "Why not reverse +operations and find out where they belong?" + +It seemed hopeless: as in a checker game they had him at +disadvantage with the odd number of the "move." Theirs was the +chance to observe, and an open attempt to follow them would be +ridiculous. Then, the footprints gave him an idea. + +Dimly behind could be discerned the two men, as he quickened his +pace, turning into a side street, off Fifth Avenue. Here he knew +that traffic would be light, and his footprints the best evidence +of his progress. The men unwittingly caught his plan, and +dropped almost out of sight. At the intersection of Madison +Avenue, they quickened their steps, and caught up with him again. +Across corners, down quiet streets, and by purposed diagonals he +led them: still they dogged his footprints. So adroit were they +that only one experienced in the art could have realized their +watchfulness. + +Shirley now turned a corner quickly, into an unusually deserted +thoroughfare, running with short steps, so as not to betray his +speed by the tracks. Before they had time to round the corner he +ran up the thinly blanketed steps of a private residence. Then +he backed, as swiftly down the stoop, and thus crablike, walked +across the street, down a dozen houses and backward still, up the +steps of another private dwelling. Inside the vestibule he hid +himself. The entry had strong wooden outside doors, and he tried +the strength of the hinges: they satisfied him. A dim light +burned behind the glass of the inner portal. He quietly +clambered up the door, and balanced himself on the wood which +gallantly stood the strain. Fortunately it did not come within +four feet of the high ceiling of the old fashioned house. + +He suffered a good ten minutes' wait before his ruse was +rewarded. Being on the "fence" was a pastime compared to this +precarious test of his muscles. The two men who had followed the +first footprints tired of waiting before the house. One of them +determined to investigate the other steps, which led into the +house of their vigilance, from the other dwelling. And so he +followed on, to the vestibule where he rang the bell. Shirley +could have touched his head, so near he was, but the darkness of +the upper space covered the retreat of the criminologist. + +"What do you want?" was the angry question of an indignant old +caretaker who answered the bell tardily. "You woke me up." + +"Say, lady, can I speak to Mr. Montague Shirley?" began the man, +gingerly. + +"You get away from this house, you loafer or I'll call the +police. No one by that name ain't here. Now, you get!" + +She slammed the door in his face. + +"I'll get Chuck to watch de udder joint," muttered the man, in a +tone audible to Shirley. "Den I'll go back and git orders from +Phil." + +This habit of thinking aloud was expensive. Shirley stiffly but +noiselessly slid down the steps, as he disappeared in the +thickening snowfall. The criminologist slowly crossed the +street, and sheltered himself in a basement entrance, from which +he reversed the shadowing process. The twain hesitated before the +first house, then one came up the sidewalk, as the other stood his +ground. This man passed within a few feet of Shirley, who followed +him over to Madison Avenue, then north to Fifty-fifth Street. Here +he turned west, and turned into one of the old stables, formerly +used by the gentry of the exclusive section for their blooded +steeds. Into one building, which announced its identity as "Garage" +with its glittering electric sign, the man disappeared. + +Shirley paused, looked about him, and chuckled. For he knew that +through the block on Fifty-sixth Street was the tall apartment +building, known as the Somerset--the address given him by +Reginald Warren. + +"If I only had some word from Helene Marigold I could go ahead +before they realized my knowledge." + +Even as this thought crossed his mind, he turned back into Sixth +Avenue. A hatless, breathless young person, running down the +snowy street collided with him. As he began to apologize, he +awoke to the startling fact that it was his assistant. + +"Great Scott! What are you doing here? Where have you been all +this time?" + +The girl caught his arm unsteadily, but there was a triumph in +her voice, as she cried: "Oh, this wonderful chance meeting. I +was running down to my hotel but you have saved the day. I will +tell you later. Quick, take this book." + +She drew forth a volume, flexibly bound, like a small loose-leaf +ledger. Shirley stuck it into his overcoat pocket, which he was +already slipping about the girl's shivering shoulders. + +"Take me back at once, for there is more for me to do." + +"Where, my dear girl? You are indeed the lady of mysteries." + +"To the basement of Warren's apartment house. I came down the +dumb-waiter, when they left me. I left the little door ajar--Can +you pull me up again? He is on the eighth floor. It is a long +pull--Oh, if we can only make it before they return." + +Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of the mad game, as she ran +once more, Shirley keeping pace with her. The flurries of the +snowstorm protected them from too-curious observation, as the +streets seemed deserted by pedestrians who feared the growing +blizzard. She led him to the tradesman's entrance of the +Somerset, into the dark corridor through which she had emerged. + +"Don't strike a light, for I can feel the way. We mustn't be +seen." + +Shirley obeyed,--at last she found the base of the dumbwaiter +shaft. + +"How did you have the strength to lower yourself down this shaft +--it is no small task?" and his tone was admiring. + +"I am not a weakling--tennis, boating, swimming were all in my +education; they helped. But it is beyond me to pull all those +floors, and lift my weight. Pull up as far as the little +elevator car goes, then go away and come to his party to look for +me. Do not be surprised at my actions. My role has really +developed into that of an emotional heavy." + +She patted his hand with a relaxation of tenderness, as he began +to draw on the long rope. The girl was by no means a light +weight, but at last the dumb-waiter came to a stop. Shirley +heard the opening and closing of a door above. Then, still +wondering at it all, he returned to the street as unobserved as +they had entered. There was at least an hour to wait. He walked +over to the Athletic Club, of which he was a remiss member, +attending seldom during the recent months when his exercise had +been more tragic than gymnastic work. In the library of the club +house he sat down to study the volume which Helene had thrust +into his hands at their startling meeting. + +He gave a low whistle of surprise. + +"Some little book!" he muttered, "and Helene Marigold has shown +me that I must fight hard to equal her in the race for laurels!" + +Then he proceeded to rack his brains with a new and knottier +problem than any which he had yet encountered. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE STRANGE AND SURPRISING WARREN + + +The volume was a loose-leaf diary, with each page dated, and of +letter size. It covered more than the current year, however, +running back for nearly eighteen months. It was as scrupulously +edited as a lawyer's engagement book, and curiously enough it was +entirely written in typewriting! + +Most surprising of all, however, was the curious code in which +the entire matter was transcribed,--the most unusual one which +Shirley had ever read. + +Here was the first page to which he opened, letter for letter and +symbol for symbol: + +"THURSDAY: JANUARY SEVENTH, 1915. +;rstmrfagtp,ansmlafrav;rudyrtaftreadocayjpi +dsmfaoma,ptmomha,pmlassdohmrfaypayscoae +ptlagptayrsadjomrasddohmrfagocahrmrsypta +,sthoragsotgscafsyraeoyjafrav;rudyrtasyagobra +djomrasmfalprajse;ruavobrtomhas,rakslras +smffanrmasddohmrfan;svlavstagpta,raqsofaqj +o;apmrajimftrfavpbrtomhadqrvos; aeptlakpn +agomodjrfatobrtdofraftobrasyarohjyoayjotfad +ocadjstqafrqpdoyr famohjyasmfaffuagpitayjpi +dsmfadsgrafrqpdoyagogyrrmajimftrfa; rmyaf +p;;ua,stopmayepajimfrtgptaftrddagptaqstyua +eoyjabsmv;rgyamrcyasgyrtmppmasfbsmvrfad +jomrapmrayjpidsm daypavpbrtapqyopmapga +usvjyadimnrs, aqsofaypantplrtayjsyamohjyapt +frfaqtpbodop,dayr;rqjpmragptausvjyayepa,p +myjabtiodra, pmlasddohmrdagptkpnamrcyafs +uasfbs mvrfadjomragojimftrfapmasvvpimyae +ptlapmaer;;omhypmadrtts;a,syyrtatrqsitdan; +svla,svjomra" + +and so it ran on, baffling and inspiring a headache! + +Shirley went over and over the lines of this bewildering phalanx +of letters with no reward for his absorbed devotion to the +puzzle. + +"Let me see," he mused. "Thursday, January seventh, was the date +upon which Washington Serral was murdered, according to Doctor +MacDonald. Any man who will maintain a record of the days in +such a difficult code as this must not only be extremely +methodical, but is certain to have much to put upon that record +worth the trouble. Here may lay the secret of the entire case." + +At the end of the hour he had allowed himself, there was no more +proximity to solution than at the inception of his effort. It +was almost half-past eleven, and he knew that it was time to go +to Warren's apartment. He sent a messenger with the book, +carefully wrapped up, to his rooms at the club on Forty-fourth +Street. It was too interesting a document to risk taking up to +that apartment again, after Helene's exertions in obtaining it. + +The Somerset was not dissimilar from the hundreds of highly +embellished dwellings of the sort which abound in the region of +the Park, causing out-of-town visitors to marvel justly at the +source of the vast sums of money with which to pay the enormous +rentals of them all. + +The elevator operator smirked knowingly, when he asked for +Warren's apartment. "You-all can go right up, boss. He's +holdin' forth for another of dem high sassiety shindigs to-night. +Dat gemman alluz has too many callin' to bother with the +telephone when he has a party. You don't need no announcin'." + +The man directed him to the door on the left. Closed as it was +the sounds of merrymaking emanated into the corridor. Shirley's +pressure on the bell was answered by Shine Taylor's startled +face. Warren stood behind him. The surprise of the pair amused +Shirley, but their composure bespoke trained self-control. + +"I'm sorry to be late," was the criminologist's greeting. "But I +came up to apologize for not being able to bring Miss Marigold. +We missed connections somewhere, and I couldn't find her." + +"I am so pleased to have you with us anyway. We'll try to get +along without her--" but Warren was interrupted to his +discomfiture. + +A silvery laugh came from the hallway behind him. Helene +Marigold waved a champagne glass at Shirley. + +"There's my tardy escort now. I'm here, Shirley old top! Te, +he! You see I played a little joke on you this afternoon and +eloped with a handsomer man than you." She leaned unsteadily +against the door post and waved a white hand at him as she +coaxed. "Come on in, old dear, and don't be cross now with your +little Bonbon Tootems!" + +Taylor and Warren exchanged glances, for this was an unexpected +sally. But they were prompt in their effusive cordiality, as +they assisted Shirley in removing his overcoat, and hanging his +hat with those of the other guests. He placed his cane against +the hall tree, and followed his host into the jollified +apartment. He did not overlook the swift glide of Shine's hand +into each of his overcoat pockets in the brief interval. Here +was a skilful "dip"--Shirley, however, had taken care that the +pickpocket would find nothing to worry him in the overcoat. + +Warren's establishment was a gorgeous one. To Shirley it was +hard to harmonize the character of the man as he had already +deduced it with the evident passion for the beautiful. That +such a connoisseur of art objects could harbor in so broad and +cultured a mind the machinations of such infamy seemed almost +incredible. The riddle was not new with Reginald Warren's case: +for morals and "culture" have shown their sociological, economic +and even diplomatic independence of each other from the time when +the memory of man runneth not! + +Shirley's admiration was shrewdly sensed by his host. So after a +tactful introduction to the self-absorbed merrymakers, now in all +stages of stimulated exuberance, he conducted his guest on a tour +of inspection about his rooms. + +"So, you like etchings? I want you to see my five Whistlers. +Here is my Fritz Thaulow, and there is my Corot. This crayon by +Von Lenbach is a favorite of mine." His black eyes sparkled with +pride as he pointed out one gem after another in this veritable +storehouse of artistic surprises. Few of the jolly throng gave +evidence of appreciating them: the man was curiously superior to +his associations in education as well as the patent evidence +which Shirley now observed of being to the manor born. Helene +Marigold, ensconced in a big library chair, her feet curled under +her, pink fingers supporting the oval chin, dreamily watched +Shirley's absorption. She seemed almost asleep, but her mind +drank in each mood that fired the criminologist's face, as he +thoroughly relaxed from his usual bland superiority of mien, to +revel in the treasures. + +Ivory masterpieces, Hindu carvings, bronzes, landscapes, rare +wood-cuts, water colors--such a harmonious variety he had seldom +seen in any private collection. The library was another +thesaurus: rich bindings encased volumes worthy of their garb. +The books, furthermore, showed the mellowing evidence of frequent +use; here was no patron of the instalment editions-de-luxe! + +"You like my things," and Warren's voice purred almost happily. +There was a softening change in his attitude, which Shirley +understood. The appreciation of a fellow worshiper warmed his +heart. "My books--all bound privately, you know, for I hate shop +bindings. Most of them from second-hand stalls, redolent with +the personalities of half a hundred readers. Books are so much +more worth reading when they have been read and read again. +Don't you think so?" + +"Yes. I see your tastes run to the modern school. Individualism, +even morbidity: Spencer, Nietsche, Schopenhauer, Tolstoi, Kropotkin, +Gorky--They express your thoughts collectively?" + +"Yes, but not radically enough. My entire intellectual life has +driven me forward--I am a disciple of the absolute freedom, the +divinity of self, and--but there I invited you to a joy party, +not a university seminar." + +"But the party will grow riper with age," and Shirley was prone +to continue the autopsy. "You are a university man. Where did +you study?" + +"Sipping here and there," and a forgivable vanity lightened +Warren's face. "Gottingen, Warsaw, Jena, Oxford, Milan, The +Sorbonne and even at Heidelberg, the jolly old place. You see my +scar?" He pulled back a lock of his wavy black hair from the +left temple to show a cut from a student duelist's sword. "But +you Americans--I mean, we Americans--we have such opportunities +to pick up the best things from the rest of the world." + +"No, Warren," and Shirley shook his head, not overlooking the +slight break which indicated that his host was a foreigner, +despite the quick change. "I have been to busy wasting time to +collect anything but fleeting memories. Too much polo, swimming, +yachting, golfing--I have fallen into evil ways. I think your +example may reform me. You must dine with me at my club some +day, and give me some hints about making such wonderful +purchases." + +"I know the most wonderful antique shop," Warren began, and just +then was interrupted by Shine Taylor and a dizzy blonde person +with whom he maxixed through the Hindu draperies, each deftly +balancing a champagne glass. + +"Here, Reg, you neglect your other guests. Come on in!" Shine's +companion held out a wine glass to Warren, but her eyes were +fixed in a fascinated stare upon Montague Shirley, + +"Why, what are you doing here?" + +It was little Dolly Marion, Van Cleft's companion on the fatal +automobile ride. She trembled: the glass fell to the floor with +a tinkly crash. Shirley smiled indulgently. Taylor and Warren +exchanged looks, but Monty knew that they must by this time be +aware of his command to the girl to abstain from gay +associations. + +"You couldn't resist the call of the wild, could you, Miss +Dolly?" + +The girl sheepishly giggled, and danced out of the room, to sink +into a chair, wondering what this visitation meant. Another +masculine butterfly pressed more champagne upon her, and in a few +moments she had forgotten to worry about anything more important +than the laws of gravity. Warren had been rudely dragged away +from his intellectual kinship with his guest. His manner +changed, almost indefinably, but Shirley understood. He looked +at Helene, a little bundle of sleepy sweetness in the big chair. + +"Well, Miss! Where did you go when I left you on my call of +condolence to Howard Van Cleft? He leaves town to-night for a +trip on his yacht, and it was my last chance to say good-bye." + +"Where is he going?" was Warren's lapsus linguae, at this bit of +news. + +"Down to the Gulf, I believe. Do you know him, Warren? Nice +chap. Too bad about his father's sudden death from heart +failure, wasn't it? He told me they were putting in supplies for +a two months' cruise and would not be able to sail before three +in the morning." + +"I don't know Van Cleft," was Warren's guarded reply. "Of +course, I read of his sad loss. But he is so rich now that he +can wipe out his grief with a change of scene and part of the +inheritance. It's being done in society, these days." + +"Poor Van Cleft! He's besieged by blackmailers, who threaten to +lay bare his father's extravagant innuendos, unless he pays fifty +thousand dollars. He can afford it, but as he says, it's war +times and money is scarce as brunette chorus girls. He has put +the matter before the District Attorney and is going to sail for +Far Cathay until they round up the gang. These criminals are so +clumsy nowadays, I imagine it will be an easy task, don't you, +Warren?" + +The other man's eyes narrowed to black slits as he studied the +childlike expression of Shirley's face. He wondered if there +could be a covert threat in this innocent confidence. He +answered laconically: "Oh, I suppose so. We read about crooks +in the magazines and then see their capers in the motion picture +thrillers, but down in real life, we find them a sordid, +unimaginative lot of rogues." + +He proffered Shirley a cigarette from his jeweled case. As he +leaned toward the table to draw a match from the small bronze +holder, Helene observed Shirley deftly substitute it for one of +his own, secreting the first. + +"Yes," continued Shirley, "the criminal who is caught generally +loses his game because he is mechanical and ungifted with talent. +But think of the criminals who have yet to be captured--the +brilliant, the inspired ones, the chess-players of wickedness who +love their game and play it with the finesse of experts." + +Shirley smoothed away the ripple of suspicion which he had +mischievously aroused with, "So, that is why fellows like us would +not bother with the life. The same physical and intellectual effort +expended by a criminal genius would bring him money and power with +no clutching legal hand to fear. But there, we're getting morbid. +What I really want to do is to satisfy my vanity. Where did Miss +Marigold disappear?" + +"Talking about me?" and Helene opened her eyes languorously. "I +was so tired waiting for you that when Mr. Warren came along in +his wonderful new car I yielded to his invitation, so we enjoyed +that tea-room trip which you had promised. Such a lark! Then we +came up here where I had the most wonderful dinner with him and +three girls. I was tired and sleepy, so I dozed away on that +library davenport until the party began--and there you are and +here I are, and so, forgive me, Monty?" + +She slipped nimbly to the floor, with a maddening display of a +silken ankle, advancing to the criminologist with a wistful +playfulness which brought a flush of sudden feeling, to the face +of Reginald Warren. Helene was carrying out his directions to +the letter, Shirley observed. + +They lingered at Warren's festivities until a wee sma' hour, +Helene pretending to share the conviviality, while actually +maintaining a hawk-like watch upon the two conspirators as she +now felt them to be. She was amused by the frequency with +which Shine Taylor and Reginald Warren plied their guest with +cigarettes: Shirley's legerdemain in substituting them was worthy +of the vaudeville stage. + +"The wine and my smoking have made me drowsy," he told her, with +no effort at concealment. "We must get home or I'll fall asleep +myself." + +A covert smile flitted across Warren's pale face, as Shirley +unconventionally indulged in several semi-polite yawns, nodding +a bit, as well. Helene accepted glass after glass of wine, +thoughtfully poured out by her host. And as thoughtfully, did +she pour it into the flower vases when his back was turned: she +matched the other girls' acute transports of vinous joy without +an error. Shirley walked to the window, asking if he might open +it for a little fresh air. Warren nodded smiling. + +"You are well on the way to heaven in this altitude of eight +stories," volunteered Shirley, with a sleepy laugh. + +"Yes. The eighth and top floor. A burglar could make a good +haul of my collection, except that I have the window to the fire +escape barred from the inside, around the corner facing to the +north. Here, I am safe from molestation." + +"A great view of the Park--what a fine library for real reading; +and I see you have a typewriter--the same make I used to thump, +when I did newspaper work--a Remwood. Let me see some of your +literary work, sometime--" + +Warren waved a deprecating hand. "Very little--editors do not +like it. I do better with an adding machine down on Wall Street +than a typewriter. But let us join the others." There was a +noticeable reluctance about dwelling upon the typewriter subject. +Warren hurried into the drawing-room, as Shirley followed with a +perceptible stagger. + +Shine Taylor scrutinized his condition, as he asked for another +cigarette. As he yielded to an apparent craving for sleep, the +others danced and chatted, while Taylor disappeared through the +hall door. After a few minutes he returned to grimace slightly +at Warren. Shirley roused himself from his stupor. + +"Bonbon, let us be going. Good-night, everybody." + +He walked unsteadily to the door, amid a chorus of noisy farewells, +with Helene unsteady and hilarious behind him. Warren and Shine +seemed satisfied with their hospitable endeavors, as they bade +good-night. The elevator brought up two belated guests, the roseate +Pinkie and a colorless youth. + +"Oh, are you going, Mr. Shirley? What a blooming shame. I just +left the most wonderful supper-party at the Claridge to see you." + +"Too bad: I hope for better luck next time." + +"The elevator is waiting," and Helene's gaze was scornful. +Shirley restrained his smile at the girl's covert hatred of the +redhaired charmer. Then he asked maliciously: "Isn't she +interesting? Too bad she associates with her inferiors." + +"You put it mildly." + +"Here, boy, call a taxicab," he ordered the attendant, as they +reached the lower level. + +"Sorry, boss, but I dassent leave the elevator at this time of +night. I'm the only one in the place jest now." + +Shirley insisted, with a duty soother of silver, but the negro +returned in a few minutes, shaking his head. Shirley ordered him +to telephone the nearest hacking-stand. Then followed another +delay, without result. + +"Come, Miss Helene, there is method in this. Let us walk, as it +seems to have been planned we should." + +"Is it wise? Why put yourself in their net?" + +For reply, he placed in her hand the walking stick which he had +so carefully guarded when they entered the apartment. It was +heavier than a policeman's nightstick. As he retook it, she +observed the straightening line of his lips. + +"As the French say, 'We shall see what we shall see.' Please +walk a little behind me, so that my right arm may be free." + +It was after two, and the street was dark. Shirley had noted an +arc-light on the corner when he had entered the building--now it +was extinguished. A man lurched forward as they turned into +Sixth Avenue, his eyes covered by a dark cap. + +"Say gent! Give a guy that's down an' out the price of a beef +stew? I got three pennies an' two more'll fix me." + +"No!" + +"Aw, gent, have a heart!" The man was persistent, drawing +closer, as Shirley walked an with his companion, into the +increasing darkness, away from the corner. Another figure +appeared from a dark doorway. + +"I'm broke too, Mister. Kin yer help a poor war refugee on a +night like this?" + +Shirley slipped his left hand inside his coat pocket and drew out +a handkerchief to the surprise of the men. He suddenly drew +Helene back against the wall, and stood between her and the two +men. + +"What do you thugs want?" snapped the criminologist, as he +clenched the cane tightly and held the handkerchief in his left +hand. There was no reply. The men realized that he knew their +purpose--one dropped to a knee position as the other sprang +forward. The famous football toe shot forward with more at stake +than ever in the days when the grandstands screeched for a field +goal. At the same instant he swung the loaded cane upon the +shoulders of the upright man, missing his head. + +The second man swung a blackjack. + +The first, with a bleeding face staggered to his feet. + +The handkerchief went up to the mouth of the active assailant, +and to Helene's astonishment, he sank back with a moan. Shirley +pounced upon his mate, and after a slight tussle, applied the +handkerchief with the same benumbing effect. Then he rolled it +up and tossed it far from him. + +He took a police whistle from his pocket and blew it three times. +His assailants lay quietly on the ground, so that when the +officer arrived he found an immaculately garbed gentleman dusting +off his coat shoulder, and looking at his watch. + +"What is it, sir?" he cried. + +"A couple of drunks attacked me, after I wouldn't give them a +handout. Then they passed away. You won't need my complaint +--look at them--" + +The policeman shook the men, but they seemed helpless except to +groan and hold their heads in mute agony, dull and apparently +unaware of what was going on about them. + +"Well, if you don't want to press the charge of assault?" + +"No. I may have it looked up by my attorney. Tonight I do not +care to take my wife to the stationhouse with me. They ought to +get thirty days, at that." + +Shirley took Helene's arm, and the officer nodded. + +"I'll send for the wagon, sir. They're some pickled. +Good-night." + +As they walked up to the nearest car crossing, Helene turned to +him with her surprise unabated. + +"What did you do to them, Mr. Shirley?" + +"Merely crushed a small vial of Amyl nitrite which I thoughtfully +put in my handkerchief this afternoon. It is a chemical whose +fumes are used for restoring people afflicted with heart failure: +with men like these, and the amount of the liquid which I gave +them for perfume, the result was the same as complete +unconsciousness from drunkenness.--Science is a glorious thing, +Miss Helene." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN WHICH SHIRLEY SURPRISES HIMSELF + + +They reached the hotel without untoward adventure. + +"Perhaps we might find a little corner in that dining-room I saw +this afternoon, with an obliging waiter to bring us something to +eat. Shall we try? I need a lot of coffee, for I am going down +to the dock of the Yacht Club to await developments." + +"You big silly boy," she cautioned, with a maternal note in her +voice which was very sweet to bachelor ears from such a maiden +mouth, "you must not let Nature snap. You have a wonderful +physique but you must go home to bed." + +"It can't be done--I want to hear about your little visit to the +apartment, and the story of the diary. I'll ask the clerk." + +A bill glided across the register of the hotel desk, and the +greeter promised to attend to the club sandwiches himself. He +led them to a cosey table, in the deserted room, and started out +to send the bell-boy to a nearby lunchroom. + +"Just a minute please,--if any one calls up Miss Marigold, don't +let them know she has returned. I have something important to +say, without interruption: you understand?" + +"Yes, I get you, sir," and the droll part was that with a +familiarity generated of the hotel arts he did understand even +better than Shirley or Helene. He had seen many other young +millionaires and golden-haired actresses. Shirley looked across +the table into the astral blue of those gorgeous eyes. Certain +unbidden, foolish words strove to liberate themselves from his +stubborn lips. + +"I am a consummate idiot!" was all that escaped, and Helene +looked her surprise. + +"Why, have you made a mistake?" + +"I hope not. But tell me of Warren's mistake." + +She had been waiting what seemed an eternity before Van Cleft's +house, when a big machine drew up alongside. Warren greeted +her with a smiling invitation to leave Shirley guessing. Her +willingness to go, she felt, would disarm his suspicions. The +little dinner in the apartment with Shine, Warren and three girls +had been in good taste enough: pretending, however, to be +overcome with weariness she persuaded them to let her cuddle up +on the couch, where she feigned sleep. Warren had tossed an +overcoat over her and left the apartment with the others, +promising to return in a few minutes. He had said to Shine, +"She'll be quiet until we return--it may be a good alibi to have +her here." Then he had disappeared, wearing only a soft hat, +with no other overcoat. Listening at the closed hall door, she +heard him direct the elevator man, "Second off, Joe." The door +was locked from the outside. The servant's entrance was locked, +all the bedrooms locked, every one with a Yale lock above the +ordinary keyhole. The Chinese cook had been sent out sometime +before to buy groceries and wine for the later party. + +"But where did you find the note-book? It may send him to the +electric chair." Monty Shirley was lighting one of the +cigarettes handed him by his host. He sniffed at it and crushed +out the embers at the end. "This cigarette would have sent me to +dreamland for a day at least--Warren understands as much +chemistry as I do." + +"At first I studied the books in the library out of curiosity and +then noticed that three books were shoved in, out of alignment +with the others on the shelf. With a manservant in the house, +instead of a woman, of course things needed dusting. But where +these three books were it had been rubbed off! I took out the +books, reached behind and found the little leather volume. It +was simple. I went to his typewriter when I saw that the pages +were all typed, and took out some note-paper, from the bronze +rack." + +"And then, Miss Sleuth?" + +"Don't laugh at me. I had heard of the legal phrase 'corroborative +evidence,' so knowing that it would be necessary to connect that +typewriter with the book, I rattled off a few lines on the machine. +Here it is: it will show the individuality of the machine to an +expert." + +"You wonderful girl!" he murmured simply. She protested, "Don't +tease me. I have watched you and am learning some of your simple +but complete methods of working. I understand you better than +you think." + +"Go on with your story," and Shirley was uncomfortable, although +he knew not why. + +"That is the end of my tale of woe. The kitchen being open, I +took advantage of the dumb-waiter, as you already know. It's +fortunate that waiter is dumb, for it must have many lurid +confessions to make. I never saw such an interminable shaft; it +seemed higher than the Eiffel Tower. See how I blistered my +hands on the rope, letting myself down." + +She opened her palms, showing the red souvenirs of the coarse +strands. Almost unconsciously she placed her soft fingers within +Shirley's for a brief instant. She quickly drew them away, +sensing a blush beneath the cosmetics, glad that he could not +detect it. That gentle contact thrilled Shirley again, even as +the dear memory of the tired cheek against his shoulder, during +the automobile trip of the previous night. + +"After finding you so accidentally and returning with your aid, +on the little elevator, I threw myself back into the original +pose on the big couch. It was just in time, for Warren returned. +His cook came in shortly afterward. I imagine that he allows no +one in that apartment, ordinarily, when he is not there himself. +But what, sir, do you think I discovered upon the shoulder of his +coat?" + +Shirley shook his head. "A beautiful crimson hair," he asked +gravely, "from the sun-kissed forehead of the delectable Pinkie? Or +was it white, from the tail of the snowy charger which tradition +informs us always lurks in the vicinity of auburn-haired +enchantresses?" + +"Nothing so romantic. Just cobwebs! He saw me looking at them, +and brushed them off very quickly." + +"The man thinks he is a wine bottle of rare vintage!" observed +Shirley. But the jest was only in his words. He looked at her +seriously and then rapt in thought, closed his eyes the better to +aid his mental calculation. "He got off at the second floor--He +wore no overcoat--A black silk handkerchief--cobwebs--and that +garage on the other street, through the block! Miss Helene, you +are a splendid ally!" + +"Won't you tell me what you mean about the garage? Who were +those men who attacked you? What happened since I deserted you?" + +But Shirley provokingly shook his head, as he drew out his watch. + +"It is half-past two. I must hurry down to East Twenty-fifth +Street and the East River, at the yacht club mooring, before +three. Tomorrow I will give you my version in some quiet +restaurant, far from the gadding crowd of the White Light +district." + +He rose, drawing back his chair; they walked to the elevator +together. The clerk beckoned politely. + +"A gent named Mr. Warren telephoned to ask if you were home yet, +Miss Marigold. I told him not yet. Was that wrong?" + +"It was very kind of you. Thank you so much," and Helene's smile +was the cause of an uneasy flutter in the breast of the blase +clerk. "Good-night." + +"That's a lucky guy, at that, Jimmie," confided the clerk to the +bell-boy. "She is some beauty show, ain't she? And she's on the +right track, too." + +"Yep, but she's too polite to be a great actress or a star. Her +temper'ment ain't mean enough!" responded this Solomon in brass +buttons. "I hopes we gits invited to the wedding!" + +Outside, Shirley enjoyed the stimulus of the bracing early +morning air. A new inspiration seemed to fire him, altogether +dissimilar to the glow which he was wont to feel when plunging +into a dangerous phase of a professional case. He slowly drew +from his pocket the typed note-paper which had nestled in such +enviable intimacy with that courageous heart. The faint +fragrance of her exquisite flesh clung to it still. He held it +to his lips and kissed it. Then he stopped, to turn about and +look upward at the tall hostelry behind him. High up below the +renaissance cornice he beheld the lights glow forth in the rooms +which he knew were Helene's. + +As he hurried to the club, he muttered angrily to himself: "I +have made one discovery, at least, in this unusual exploit. I +find that I have lost what common sense I possessed when I became +a Freshman at college!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +ON THE RISING TIDE + + +A hurried message to the Holland Agency brought four plain +clothes men from the private reserve, under the leadership of +superintendent Cleary. Monty met them at the doorway of the club +house, wearing a rough and tumble suit. + +They sped downtown, toward the East River, the criminologist on +the seat where he could direct the driver. At Twenty-sixth +Street, near the docks, they dismounted and Shirley gave his +directions to the detectives. + +"I want you to slide along these doorways, working yourselves +separately down the water front until you are opposite the yacht +club landing. I will work on an independent line. You must get +busy when I shoot, yell or whistle,--I can't tell which. As the +popular song goes, 'You're here and I'm here, so what do we +care?' This is a chance for the Holland Agency to get a great +story in the papers for saving young Van Cleft from the +kidnappers." + +He left them at the corner, and crossing to the other pavement, +began to stagger aimlessly down the street, looking for all the +world like a longshoreman returning home from a bacchanalian +celebration from some nearby Snug Harbor. It was a familiar type +of pedestrian in this neighborhood at this time of the morning. + +"That guy's a cool one, Mike," said Cleary to one of his men. +"These college ginks ain't so bad at that when you get to know +'em with their dress-suits off." + +"He's a reg'lar feller, that's all," was Mike's philosophical +response. "Edjication couldn't kill it in 'im." + +A hundred yards offshore was the beautiful steam yacht of the Van +Clefts', the "White Swan." Lights on the deck and a few glowing +portholes showed unusual activity aboard. Shirley's hint to +Warren about the contemplated trip to southern climes was the +exact truth. Naked truth, he had found, was ofttimes a more +valuable artifice than Munchausen artistry of the most consummate +craft! The longshoreman, apparently befuddled in his bearings, +wandered toward the dock, which protruded into the river, a part +of the club property. He staggered, tumbled and lay prostrate on +the snowy planks. + +Then he crawled awkwardly toward one of the big spiles at the +side of the structure, where he passed into a profound slumber. +This, too, was a conventional procedure for the neighborhood! A +man walked across the street, from the darkness of a deserted +hallway: he gave the somnolent one a kick. The longshoreman +grunted, rolled over, and continued to snore obliviously. + +An automobile honk-honked up Twenty-third Street, and then swung +around in a swift curve toward the dock. The investigating +kicker slunk away, down the street. The limousine drew up at the +entrance to the tender gangway. Accompanied by a portly servant, +a young man in a fur coat, stepped from the machine. + +"Give them another call with your horn, Sam," he directed. "The +boat will be in for me, then." + +This was done. A scraping noise came from the hanging stairway +of the dock, and a voice called up from the darkness: "Here we +are, sir!" Howard Van Cleft leaned over the edge and looked +down, somewhat nervously. A reassuring word came up from the +boat, rocking against the spiles. + +"You was a bit late, sir. You said three, Mr. Van Cleft, and now +it's ten after. So the captain sent us in to wait for you. +Everything's shipshape, sir, steam up, and all the supplies +aboard. Climb right down the ladder, sir. Steady now, lads!" + +This seemed to presage good. Van Cleft turned to his butler. + +"Take down the luggage, Edward. Goodbye, Sam. Keep an eye on +the machines. The folks will attend to everything for you while +I am away. Good-bye." + +The butler had delivered the baggage and now returned up the +ladder, puffing with his exertions. + +"Good-bye, sir," and his voice was more emotional than usual. +"Watch yourself, sir, if you please, sir. You're the last Van +Cleft, and we need you, sir." The old man touched his hat, and +climbed into the automobile, as Van Cleft climbed down the +ladder. The machine sped away under the skilful guidance of Sam. + +"Steady, sir, steady--There, we have you now, sir,--Quick, men! +Up the river with the tide. Row like hell!--Keep your oars +muffled--here comes the other boat." + +All this seemed naturally the accompaniment of the embarkment of +Van Cleft's yachting cruise, but the sleeping longshoreman +suddenly arose to his feet and blew a shrill police whistle. +Next instant the flash of his pocket-lamp illumined the dark boat +below him. A volley of curses greeted this untoward action! A +revolver barked from the hand of a big man in the stern. Young +Van Cleft lay face downward in the boat, neatly gagged and bound. +As the light still flickered over the surprised oarsmen, an +answering shot evidenced better aim. The man in the back of the +bobbing vessel groaned as he fell forward upon the prostrate body +of the pinioned millionaire. One oarsman disappeared over the +side of the boat, to glide into the unfathomable darkness, with +skilful strokes. + +"Hold still! I'll kill the first man who makes a move!" + +As Shirley's voice rang out, Cleary with his assistants was +dashing across the open space to the end of the dock. + +"Shove out that boat-hook and hold onto the dock!" was the +additional order, accompanied by a punctuation mark in the form +of another bullet which splintered the gunwale of the boat. +Looking as they were, into the dazzling eye of the bulb light, +the men were uncertain of the number of their assailants: +surrender was natural. Cleary's men made quick work of them. +The boat from the yacht now hove to by this time, filled with +excited and profane sailormen. The skipper of the "White Swan," +revolver drawn, stood in its bow as it bumped against the +stairway. Howard Van Cleft was unbound: dazed but happy he tried +to talk. + +"What--why--who?" he mumbled. + +"Pat Cleary, from the Holland Detective Agency," was Shirley's +response. "There, handcuff these men quick. Two cops are +coming. We want the credit of this job before the rookies beat +us to it." + +Van Cleft recognized the speaker, and caught his hand fervently. +Shirley, though, was too busy for gratitude. He gave another +quick direction. + +"Hurry on board your yacht tender and get underway. Your life +isn't worth a penny if you stay in town another hour. These men +will be attended to. Good luck and goodbye." + +The young man rapidly transferred his luggage to his own boat. +They were soon out of view on their way to the larger vessel. +Shirley turned toward Cleary. + +"I'll file the charge against these two men. They tried to rob +me and make their getaway in this boat. You were down here as a +bodyguard for Van Cleft, who, of course, knew nothing about the +matter as he left for his cruise. So his name can be kept out of +it entirely. And the fact that you helped to save him from +paying fifty thousand dollars in blackmail, will not injure the +size of Captain Cronin's bill. Get me?" + +"It's got!" laughed Cleary. + +Two patrolmen were dumfounded when they reached the spot to find +four men in handcuffs in charge of six armed guardians. The +superintendent explained the situation as laid out by Shirley. +The cavalcade took its way to the East Twenty-first Street Police +Station, where the complaint was filed. Sullen and perplexed +about their failure, the men were all locked in their cells, +after their leader had his shoulder dressed by an interne +summoned from the nearby Bellevue Hospital. + +Shirley and Cleary returned with the others to the waiting +automobile, after these formalities. The prisoners had been +given the customary opportunity to telephone to friends, but +strangely enough did not avail themselves of it. + +"We're cutting down the ranks of the enemy, Cleary," observed the +detective as he lit a cigarette. "But I wonder who it was that +escaped in the water?" + +"He'll be next in the net. But say, Mr. Shirley, what percentage +do you get for all this work, I'm awondering?" was the answering +query. The criminologist laughed. + +"Thanks, my dear man, simply thanks. That's a rare thing for a +well-to-do man to get since the I.W.W. proved to the world that +it's a crime for a man to own more than ten dollars, or even to +earn it! But I wish you would drop me off about half a block +from the Somerset Apartments, on Fifty-sixth Street. I want to +watch for a late arrival." + +He waited in the shadows of the houses on the opposite side of +the street. After half an hour he was rewarded by the sight of +Mr. Shine Taylor dismounting from a taxicab. The young gentleman +wore a heavy overcoat over a bedraggled suit. One of his snowy +spats was missing; his hat was dripping, still, from its early +immersion. He entered the building, after a cautious survey of +the deserted street, with a stiff and exhausted gait. + +Shirley was satisfied with this new knot in the string. He +returned to his rooms at the club, to gain fresh strength for the +trailing on the morrow. And this time, he felt that he deserved +his rest! + +Next morning, after his usual plunge and rub-down, he ordered +breakfast in his rooms. He instructed the clerk to send up a +Remwood typewriter, and began his experiments with the code of +the diary. + +From an old note-book, in which were tabulated the order of +letter recurrences according to their frequency in ordinary +English words, he freshened his memory. This was the natural +sequence, in direct ratio to the use of the letters: "E: T: A: O: +N: I: S: B: M, etc." The use of "E" was double that of any +other. Yet on the pages of the book he found that the most +frequently recurring symbol was "R" which was, ordinarily, one of +the least used in the alphabet. "T," which would have been second +in popularity, naturally, was seen only a few times in +proportion. "Y," also seldom used, appeared very often. The +symbol "A" was used with surprising frequency. + +"Let me see," he mused. "This code is strictly typewritten. It +must be arranged on some mechanical twist of the typing method. +A is used so many times that it might be safe to assume that it +is used for a space, as all the words in this code run together. +If A is used that way, what takes its place? S would by rights +be seventh on the list, but the average I have made shows that it +is about third or fourth." + +Carefully he jotted down in separate columns on a piece of paper +the individual repetitions of letters on the page of "January 7, +1915." He arrived at the conclusion, then, that "R" was used for +"E," that "S" took the place of "A" and that "Y" alternated in +this cipher for "T" which was second on his little list. + +Fur the benefit of the reader who may be interested enough to +work out this little problem, along the lines of Shirley's +deductions the arrangement of the so-called "Standard" keyboard +is here shown, as it was on the "Number Four" machine of Warren's +Remwood, and the duplicate machine which Shirley was using. + + Q W E R T Y U I O P + + A S D F G H J K L ; + + Z X C V B N M , . + + Shift SPACE BAR Shift + Key Key + +This diagram represents the "lower case" or small letters, +capitals being made by holding down one of the shift keys on +either side, and striking the other letter at the same time, +there being two symbols on each metal type key. As only small +letters were used through the code Shirley did not bother about +the capitals. He realized at last, that if his theory of +substitution were correct the writer had struck the key to the +right of the three frequent letters. He had the inception of the +scheme. + +Starting with the first line of the sentences so jumbled on the +page for January 7, 1915, he began to reverse the operation, +copying it off, hitting on the typewriter the keyboard letter to +the left of the one indicated in the order of the cipher. + +The result was gratifying. He continued for several lines, +having trouble only with the letter "P." At last he realized +that the only substitution for that could be "Q." In other +words, "A" had been used for the space letter throughout, and for +all the other symbols the one on the right had been struck, +except "P" which being at the end of the line had been merely +swung to the first letter on the other end of it! + +No wonder Warren had been so confident of its baffling simplicity! +Many of the well-known rules for reading codes would not work with +this one, and had it not been for Shirley's suspicion, aroused in +the library of the arch-schemer the night before, he would hardly +have given the typewriter, as a mechanical aide, a second thought. +Warren's desire to drop the subject of machines had planted a +dangerous seed. + +Laboriously Shirley typed off the material of the entire page for +the fatal Thursday, and his elation knew no bounds as he realized +that here was a key to many of the activities of his enemy. He +donned his hat and coat and hurried over to the Hotel California +to show his discovery to Helene. She invited him up to her suite +at once, where he wasted no words but exhibited the triumphant +result of his efforts. He handed her his own transcription, and +this is what she read: + +"January 7, 1915, Thursday. + +learned from bank de cleyster drew six thousand in morning monk +assigned to taxi work for tea shine assigned to fix generator +margie fairfax date with de cleyster at five, shine and joe +hawley covering game jake and ben assigned black car for me paid +phil one hundred covering special work job finished riverside +drive at eighty third sharp deposited night and day four thousand +safe deposit fifteen hundred lent dolly marion two hundred for +dress for party with van cleft next afternoon advanced shine one +thousand to cover option of yacht sunbeam paid to broker that +night ordered provisions telephone for yacht two month cruise +monk assigned for job next day advanced shine five hundred on +account work on wellington serral matter repairs black machine +fifty party apartment same night champagne one hundred fifty +caterer one hundred tips fifty five to janitor taxis twelve must +stir phil up on work for grimsby matter memorandum arrange for +yacht mooring on east river instead of north after wednesday +eighth job finis memorandum settle telephone exchange proceeds +not later than monday paid electrician special wiring two hundred +in full settlement." + +"There, Miss Helene, how do you like my little game of letter +building?" + +There was a boyish gleam of triumph in his smile as he turned +toward her. + +"You are a wizard, but how did you work it all out?" There was +no smile in her face, only a mingled horror at the revelations of +this calculating monster in his businesslike murder work, and an +unfeigned admiration for Shirley's keenness. + +"A very old method, but one which would have availed for naught +without your help. The letter paper which you used and the +unmistakable identity of Warren's machine are two more bars of +iron with which to imprison him. The paper of that note is the +same on which they wrote to Van Ceft for money, and their threats +to me. This shows from a microscopic examination of its texture. +I will give the whole book to a trustworthy stenographer: more +than six months of these little confessions are tabulated here. +Warren was evidently so used to this code that he could write in +it as easily as I do with the straight alphabet. His training in +German universities developed a thoroughness, a methodical +recording of every thing, which is apt to cost him dearly. And +his undoubted vanity prompted him to have a little volume of his +own in that library to which he could turn occasionally for the +retrospection of his own cleverness. Now, I must investigate +this clever telephone system. I think I have the clue +necessary." + +He intrusted the book to Helene for the morning, promising to +return in an hour or two with new information, drolly refusing to +tell her his destination. + +"You're a bad, bold boy, and should be spanked, for not letting +some one know where to look for you in case you get into +difficulties," she pouted. "Perhaps I will do some equally +foolish thing myself." + +"If you knew how you frightened me yesterday!" he began. + +"Did you really worry and really care?" But Shirley had slipped +out of the door, leaving her to wonder, and then begin that long +delayed letter to Jack. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +AN EXPEDITION UNDERGROUND + + +The criminologist picked his way through the swarming vehicles +which swung up and down Broadway, across to Seventh Avenue, where +he turned into a plumber's shop. This fellow had handled small +jobs on Shirley's extensive real estate holdings, and he was +naturally delighted to do a favor in the hope of obtaining new +work. + +"Mike, I want to borrow an old pair of overalls, a jumper and one +of those blue caps hanging up on your wall. And I need some +plumbers' tools, as well, for a little joke I am to play on one +of my friends." + +The workman was astounded at such a request from his rich client, +but nodded willingly. The dirtiest of the clothes answered +Shirley's requirements and with soot rubbed over his face and +hands, his hair disarranged, he satisfied his artistic craving +for detail. He was transformed into a typical leadpipe brigand. +Hanging his own garments in the closet, after transferring his +automatic revolver into the pocket of the jeans, he started out, +carrying the furnace pot, and looking like a union-label article. + +He reached the Somerset by a roundabout walk, passing more than +one of his acquaintances with inward amusement at their failure +to recognize him. He had arranged for Helene to invite Shine +Taylor and Reginald Warren down to call on her at the apartment +in the California at this particular time. So thus he felt that +the coast was clear. At the tradesmen's entrance, where he had +gone before to hoist on the dumbwaiter, he entered the building. +An investigation of the basement showed him that in the rear of +the building were one large and two small courts or air shafts. +Then he ascended the iron stairway to the street level of the +vestibule. + +"Say, bo, I come to fix de pipes on de second floor," was his +self-introduction to the haughty negro attendant. "Dey're +leakin' an' me boss tells me to git on de job in a hustle." + +"Which one? I ain't heard o' no leaks. It must be in de empty +apartment in de rear, kase dat old maid in de front would been +kickin' my fool head off ef she's had any trouble. She's always +grouchy." + +"Sure, dingy, it's de empty one in de rear. Lemme in an' I'll +fix it." + +"You-all better see de superintendent. People is apt to be +lookin' at dat apartment to-day to rent it, an' he mightn't want +no plumber mussin' round. I'll go hunt 'im fer you-all." + +"Say, you jest lemme in now. I'm paid by de hour. You knows +what plumber bills is, an' your superintendent'll fire you if he +has to pay ten dollars' overtime 'cause you hold me up." + +This was superior logic. The negro took him up and opened the +door. Shirley entered, and peered out of the court window in the +rear. Helene's suggestion about the dust was applicable here, +for he found all the windows coated except the one opening upon +the areaway. Below he observed a stone paving with a cracked +surface. It was semidark, but his electric pocket-light enabled +him to observe one piece of the rock which seemed entirely +detached. Shirley investigated the closets of the empty +apartment. In one of them he discovered the object of his +search. It was a knotted rope. He first observed the exact way +in which it had been folded in order to replace it without +suspicion being aroused. Then he took it to the small window of +the air shafts hanging it on a hook which was half concealed +behind the ledge. Down this he lowered himself, hand over hand. +The stone was quickly lifted--it was hinged on the under surface. + n the dark hole which was before him there was an iron ladder. +Down he went, into the utter blackness. His outstretched hands +apprised him that he was at the beginning of a walled tunnel, +through which he groped in a half-upright position. He reached +an iron door, and remembering his direction calculated that this +must be at the rear entrance of the old garage on West +Fifty-fifth +Street. It opened, as he swung a heavy iron bar, fitted with a +curious mechanism resembling the front of a safe. Softly he +entered, carrying his heavy boots in his hand. All was still +within, and he shot the glow ray of his little lamp about him. +As the reader may guess, it was the rear room of Warren's private +spider-web! The table, facing the screen was surmounted by an +ingenious telephone switchboard. + +Shirley examined this closely. The various plugs were labelled: +"Rector," "Flatbush," "Jersey City," "Main," "Morningside," and +other names which Shirley recognized as "central" stations of the +telephone company. Here was the partial solution of the +mysterious calls. He determined to test the service! + +He took up the telephone receiver and sent the plug into the +orifice under the label, "Co." wondering what that might be. +Soon there was an answer. + +"Yes, Chief. What is it?" + +"How's everything?" was Shirley's hoarse remark. "I find +connections bad in the Bronx? What's the matter?" + +"I'll send one of the outside men up there to see, Chief. +There's a new exchange manager there, and he may be having the +wires inspected. But my tap is on the cable behind the building. +I don't see how he could get wise." + +Shirley smiled at this inadvertent betrayal of the system: wire +tapping with science. He was able to trap the confederate with +his own mesh of copper now. + +"I want to see you right away. Some cash for you. I'm sick with +a cold in the throat so don't keep me waiting. Go up town and +stand in the doorway at 192 West Forty-first Street. Don't let +anybody see you while you wait there, so keep back out of sight. +How soon can you be there?" + +"Oh, in half an hour if I hurry. Any trouble? You certainly +have a bum voice, Chief. But how will I know it's you?" + +"I'll just say, 'Telephone,' and then you come right along with +me, to a place I have in mind. Don't be late, now! Good-bye." + +Shirley drew out the connection and tried the exchange labelled +"Rector." Instantly a pleasant girl's voice inquired the number +desired. + +"Bryant 4802-R." + +This was the Hotel California. + +The operator on the switchboard of the hostelry replied. + +"Give me Miss Marigold's apartment, please." + +Helene's voice was soon on the wire. Shirley asked for Warren in +a gruff tone. + +"What do you want?" was that gentleman's musical inquiry, in the +tones which were already so familiar to the criminologist. + +"Chief, dis is de Rat. I wants to meet you down at de Blue Goose +on Water Street in half an hour. Kin you'se come? It's +important." + +The other was evidently mystified. + +"The Rat? What do you mean? I don't know you. Ring off!" + +Shirley heard the other receiver click. He held the wire, +reasoning out the method of the intriguer. Soon there was a buzz +in his ear, and Warren's voice came to him. It was droll, this +reversal of the original method, which had been so puzzling. + +"What number is this?" + +"Rector 4471, sir," answered the criminologist in the best +falsetto tone he could muster. Then he disconnected with a +smile. This was turning the tables with a vengeance. But he +knew that he must be getting away from the den before the +possible investigation by Warren or his lieutenant. There were +many things he would have liked to study about the place. But +his curiosity about the telephone had made it impossible for him +to remain. It was a costly mistake, as events were destined to +prove! + +He hurried out of the compartment, into the tunnel, up the rope +and through the window. He replaced the knotted rope, exactly as +it had been before. He put a few drippings of molten lead from +the bubbling pot, under the wash-stand of the bathroom, to carry +out the illusion of his work as plumber. Then he departed from +the building, as he had entered. + +In ten minutes he was changing his garments in Mike's plumbing +shop, with a fabulous story of the excruciating joke he had +played upon a sick friend. Then he walked rapidly to the doorway +at 192 West Forty-first Street. + +Back against the wall of this empty store entry, lounged a +pleasant-looking young man who puffed at a perfecto. Shirley +stepped in, and in a low tone, said: "Telephone." The other +started visibly, and scrutinized the well-groomed club man from +head to foot. + +"Well, Chief, you're a surprise. I never thought you looked like +that. Where will we go?" + +"Over to the gambling house a friend of mine runs, just around the +corner. There we can talk in quiet." + +Shirley led the way, restraining the smile which itched to betray +his enjoyment of the situation. The other studied him with +sidelong glances of unabated astonishment. They were soon going +up the steps of the Holland Agency, which looked for all the +world, with its closed shutters, and quiet front, like a retreat +for the worshipers of Dame Fortune. Cronin fortunately did not +believe in signs. So the young man was not suspicious, even when +Shirley gave three knocks upon the door, to be admitted by the +sharp-nosed guardian of the portal. + +"Tell Cleary to come downstairs, Nick," said the criminologist. +"I want him to meet a friend of mine." + +The superintendent was soon speeding two steps at a time. + +"The Captain is back, Mr. Shirley," he exclaimed. "He's in the +private office on a couch." + +"Good, then we'll take my friend right to him." + +The stranger was beginning to evidence uneasiness, and he turned +questioningly to his conductor, with a growing frown. + +"Say, what are you leading me into, Chief?" + +Shirley said nothing but strode to the rear of the floor, through +the door of Captain Cronin's sanctum. The old detective was +covered with a steamer shawl, as he stretched out on a davenport. +The young man observed the photographs around the room,--an +enormous collection of double-portraits of profile and front face +views--the advertized crooks for whom Cronin had his nets spread +in a dozen cases. The handcuffs on the desk, the measuring +stand, the Bertillon instruments on the table, all these aroused +his suspicions instantly. + +He whirled about, angrily. + +Shirley smiled in his face. Then he addressed the surprised +Captain Cronin. + +"Here is our little telephone expert who arranged the wires for +Warren and his gang, Captain. You are welcome to add him to your +growing collection of prisoners." + +For answer the young man whipped out a revolver and fired +point-blank at the criminologist. His was a ready trigger finger. +But he was no swifter than the convalescent detective on the couch, +who had swung a six shooter from a mysterious fold of the steamer +blanket, and planted a bullet into the man's shoulder from the rear. + +As the smoke cleared away, Shirley straightened up from the +crouching position on the floor which had saved him from the +assassin, and dragged the wounded criminal to his feet. The +handcuffs clicked about his wrists before the young man had +grasped the entire situation. Cleary and three others of the +private force were in the room. + +"I've got to hurry along now, Captain. Just let him know that +his Chief is captured and the sooner he turns State's evidence +the better it will be for him. The District Attorney might make +it lighter, if he helps. I'll be back this evening if I can." +And Shirley hurried away, leaving much surprise and bewilderment +in every mind. + +Cronin was equal to the task of picking up the threads, and under +his sarcasm, and Cleary's rough arguments, the prisoner admitted +some interesting matters about the mysterious employer whose face +he had never seen. But Shirley's task was far from completed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A DOUBLE ON THE TRAIL + + +Shirley walked up to the Hotel California, at the door of which +he met Warren and Taylor just leaving. They looked somewhat +embarrassed but his manner was cordiality itself. + +"Sorry you are going. I was just stepping up to see Miss +Marigold. Won't you come back?" + +His invitation was refused. Then Shirley urged Warren to be his +guest at the club for dinner that evening. This was accepted +with a surprising alacrity. So, he left them, and was soon +talking with Helene. + +"You missed a curious little sociable party," she assured him. +"They tried to quiz me, and I confess that I worked for the same +purpose--no results on either side. But, Warren had an unusual +telephone call, which disturbed him so much that he hurried away, +sooner than he had planned." + +Shirley recounted his explorations of the afternoon, with the +explanation of Reginald's disturbance. It was certain now that +the leader of the assassins had something to cause uneasiness, +--enough to take his mind off the campaign of murder and +blackmail. + +"But he will try to get you out of the way," was her anxious +answer. "You are multiplying needless dangers. Why don't you +have him arrested now--the phonograph records will identify his +voice, will they not? The diary will show his career, and +everything seems complete in the case." + +Shirley sat down in the window-seat, before replying. + +"It is just my own vanity, then, perhaps. I am foolish enough to +believe that I can trap him on some crime which will give him the +complete punishment he deserves without dragging in the names of +these unfortunate old society men. All our trouble would be for +nothing, just now, if the story came out. The phonograph records +helped me--but I prefer to keep that method to myself, as a +matter of interest and selfishness. Somewhere, in that beautiful +apartment of his there must be clues which will send him to the +electric chair on former crimes: Warren is an artist who has +handled other brushes than the ones he used on this masterpiece. +He is not a beginner. So, I must ransack his apartment." + +"That is impossible, with all the care he takes with bolts and +locks." + +"We shall see. Meanwhile, I'll spin the yarn of the last +thirty-six hours. I'm sure your curiosity is whetted: my own +is by no means satisfied." + +So he gave her a survey of the progress he had made. Helene +brought forth a number of typewritten pages which she had +transcribed from the diary, proudly exhibiting a machine which +she had ordered sent up from the hotel office. + +"There, sir, we are unwinding the ravelings of his past life to +an extent. I have found a mysterious reference to a Montfluery +case in Paris, during August of last year. What can you do to +investigate that lead?" + +Shirley jotted down the name, and answered: "A cable to the +prefecture of Police of the city of Paris from Captain Cronin +will bring details. That should be an added link in the chain, +within the next twenty-four hours. I am going to leave you for +the while, as I wish to investigate a certain yacht which is +moored in the East River. That yacht is there for a purpose--you +remember his reference to the payment of supplies for a two-month +cruise. My amateurish vanity leads me to a hope that I can +capture him just at the crucial moment when he thinks he is +successful in his escape from pursuit." + +"That is the childishness of the masculine mind," retorted +Helene. "You say we women are illogical, but we are essentially +practical in the small things. I would advise closing the doors +before the horse escapes, rather than a chase from behind!" + +"Perhaps," answered Monty, "but the uncertainty does allure me. +I always enjoyed skating on thin ice, from the days of college +when I loved to get through a course of lectures on as little +work as possible. The satisfaction of 'getting away with it' +against odds was so exhilarating. I will return after my little +dinner with Warren at the Club. Where will you dine?" + +"Your friend Dick Holloway is taking me to some restaurant where +singing and music may alter my refusal to him." + +"Your refusal?" and Shirley shot a quick glance at the girl. Her +dimples appeared as she added: "Yes--he wants me to star in a +little play for the coming spring, but I have had such fun +playing in real-life drama that I said him nay." + +"Oh," was all the criminologist said, but as he left, Helene's +laugh interpretated a little feminine satisfaction. Monty's mind +was just disturbed enough about the attitude of Dick Holloway to +keep him from worrying over the Warren case until he had reached +the East River, near the yacht club mooring. + +There was the white yacht which had been mentioned in the +purloined book. It was a trim, speedy craft. The criminologist +walked down a few blocks to the office of a boat contractor with +whom he had dealt on bygone occasions. + +"I want to engage a fast motor-boat, Mr. Manby," was his request. +"The speediest thing you've got. Keep it down at your dock, at +Twenty-first Street, with plenty of gasoline and a man on duty +all the time, starting with six o'clock to-night. I may need it +at a minute's notice." + +"I've got a hydroplane which I'll sell this spring to some +yachtsman," said Manby. "It's a bargain--you can do forty miles +an hour in it, without getting a drop of spray. Shall I show it +to you?" + +"Yes, and the two men who you will have alternating on duty, so +they will know me when I come for it. I'll pay for every minute +it is reserved." + +They soon came to terms; the men were introduced and Shirley was +well satisfied with the racing craft, which was moored according +to his directions, handy for a quick embarkation. + +Then he went up to the Holland Agency. Cronin was disappointed +in his results with the telephone confederate. All of Warren's +men were close-mouthed, as though through some biting fear of +swift and unerring vengeance for "squealing." Even the prisoners +in the station-house had not volunteered to communicate with +friends, as they were allowed to do by law. They were "standing +pat," as the old detective declared in disgust. + +"That proves one thing," remarked the criminologist. "They are +not local products, or they would have friends other than their +chief on whom to call for bail or aid. Their whole work centers +on him. I think I will send a code message to this man Phil this +afternoon or evening. He may be able to read it, and if he does, +it may assist us. I wish you would have a man call on Miss +Marigold at the California Hotel, so that she may know his face. +Then keep him covering her for they are apt to get suspicious of +her and try to quiet her. She is a game and fearless girl, but +she is no match for this gang." + +Cronin assigned one of the men immediately, and the sleuth took +up a note of introduction to Helene, in which Monty explained the +need for his watch. + +Shirley then repaired to the club house to await his dinner +guest. He was thoughtful about the alacrity of Warren to dine +with him. There was more to this assumed friendliness than the +mere desire to talk to him. + +"I wonder if he wants to keep me occupied for some certain +reason?" pondered the club man. "Helene is protected now by a +silent watcher. The members of the Lobster Club are all out of +the city. Van Cleft is safe on the ocean. They must be laying a +trap. I wonder where that trap would be?" + +As he looked about his rooms he realized that many important +pieces of evidence were locked up in his chests and the small +safe. His bedroom, in the uppermost floor of the club building, +was in a quiet and less frequented part of the house. Shirley +summoned one of the shrewd Japanese valets who worked on the +dormitory floors of the building. + +"Chen," he began. "Are you a good fighter?" + +The Mongolian grinned characteristically. Shirley took out a +bill, and handed it to the little fellow. + +"I have reason to think some one may come into my rooms to-night, +while I am busy downstairs. How would you like to lock yourself +on the inside of my clothes closet, and wait? The air is not +very good, but with this ten dollars you could take a nice ride +in the country to-morrow, and get lots of good oxygen in your +lungs to make up for it." + +Chen was a willing little self-jailer. Shirley handed him his +own revolver, and the slant eyes sparkled with glee at the +opportunity for some excitement. Americans may carp at the +curious manners and alleged shortcomings of the Oriental, but +personal fear does not seem to be in the category of their +faults. So, with this little valet, who improved his time, as +Shirley had discovered, by taking special courses in Columbia +University's scientific department. The criminologist had used +him on more than one occasion when Eastern subtlety and apparent +lack of guile had accomplished the impossible! + +The closet door was closed, and Shirley went downstairs. At the +desk of the, club clerk he sent a cablegram to the police +authorities of Paris. The message was simple + +"Cable collect to Holland Detective Agency name and record of man +in Montfleury case, August, 1914. Do you want him? ......... + ........ Cronin, Captain." + +Shirley smiled as he handed the envelope to the little messenger +who had been summoned, and made his exit through the front +doorway just as the affable Reginald Warren entered it: another +instance of "ships that pass in the night," was the thought of +the host who advanced courteously. + +"You are on time to the minute: German training, I see. Let the +boy have your hat and coat, Mr. Warren." + +These little amenities completed, they sauntered about the +beautiful building, Shirley pointing out the many interesting +photographs of athletic teams, trophies, club posters, portraits +of famous graduates, and the like, which seem part and parcel of +collegiate atmosphere. Warren was profoundly interested, yet +there was an abstraction in his conversation which was not +unobserved by his entertainer. As they passed a tall, colonial +clock in the broad hallway, Shirley caught him glancing uneasily +at it. This was the second time he had looked at its silvered +face since they came into the range of it. Purposely the club +man took him down the length of the big dining-hall, to exhibit +the trophies of the hunt, from jungles and polar regions, +contributed by the sportsmen members of past classes. Here +Shirley chatted about this and that boar's head, yonder elephant +hide, the other tiger skin, until he had consumed additional +time. As they passed into the lounging room Shirley led his +guest past another small mahogany clock. Again the sharp, +anxious glance at the progress of the minutes. He was convinced +by now that some deviltry was being perfected on schedule time. +He began to worry over his little assistant on the floor high +above: perhaps he would not be able to cope with the plotters, +after all. Yet, Chen was wiry, cunning, and needed no diagrams +as to the purpose for which he was to guard the rooms. + +At last Shirley led Warren to the grill-room where they ordered +their dinner: the supreme test of a gentleman is his taste in the +menu for a discriminating guest. Warren sensed this, as the +delicious viands and rare old wines were brought out in a +combination which would have warmed the heart cockles of the +fussiest old gourmon from Goutville! + +"Ah, a feast fit for the gods," were his admiring words, as the +two men smiled across this strange board of hospitality. In the +midst of the meal, their chat of student days was interrupted by +a page who approached Shirley. + +"Begging your pardon, sir, but I have a note which was left here +by messenger for a gentleman named Mr. R. Warren; your guest, I +believe, sir?" + +Warren's face flushed, and his surprise was indubitable. He +snatched the envelope from the boy, who had reached it toward +Shirley. The criminologist was no less in the dark. Warren, +with a scant apology, tore open the missive. It was typewritten! +He read it, and his brows came together with an angry scowl. + +He arose from his seat swiftly, turning toward Shirley with a +nervous twitching of the erstwhile firm lips. + +"Would you pardon me if I ran? A Wall Street client of mine has +suddenly been stricken with apoplexy. We have deals together, +dependent upon gentlemen's agreements, without a word of writing. +It may mean a fortune to get to him before he loses all power of +speech. It is a shame to spoil, at this time, such a wonderful +dinner as I had promised myself with you. Can you forgive me?" + +The man was visibly panic-stricken, although his superb nerve was +fighting hard to cover his terror. Shirley wondered what news +could have fallen into his hand this way. He watched the +envelope, hoping that he would inadvertently drop it. But no +such luck! Warren carefully folded it and put it with the letter +into the breast pocket of his coat. + +"My dear fellow, business before indigestion, always! I am sorry +to have you go, but we will try again. I will go upstairs with +you. Shall I call a taxicab for you?" + +Warren expostulated, but the host followed him to the check room. +Unseen by Warren, Shirley inserted a handkerchief from his own +pocket into the overcoat pocket of the other with a +sleight-of-hand +substitution, in the withdrawal of the guest's small linen +square! + +Warren rushed to the door. He sprang into the first taxicab that +came along, and disappeared. Shirley watched the car as it raced +away and noticed its number. He turned to the door man. + +"Whose machine was that? On the regular club stand here?" + +"Yes, sir. A man named Perkins drives it, sir." + +"Will it return here as soon as the fare is taken to the end of +the trip?" + +"Yes, sir, they have orders for that. They belong to a gent who +supplies cars for our club exclusively, sir. They are not +allowed to take outside passengers." + +"Very good! You send for me, in my rooms, as soon as the driver +of the car shows up. I want to find out where he went." + +Shirley hurried up in the lift to his own floor. He went to the +door of his room, and tried to open it with his key. It was +bolted from inside! There came a muffled report from within. +Then he heard a cry, which he recognized as the voice of Chen, +the Jap. He dropped to the floor, listening at the crack--a +scuffle was in progress within! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A BURGLARY FOR JUSTICE + + +Shirley rose, and once more applied that gridiron-trained boot of +his: this time to the lock of the door. Two doses resulted in a +complete cure for its obstinacy. As he rushed into the room, he +saw a figure swing out of the window on a dangling rope. He +hesitated--the desire to chase this intruder to the roof of the +club struggled with his duty to the unfortunate Jap, who lay on +the floor, where he was being garroted by a burly ruffian in a +chauffeur's habiliments. He sprang toward his little assistant, +and made quick work of the big man. + +As he threw the other, with one of his "silencer" twists of the +neck cords, the Jap sprang up. A demoniac anger twisted that +usually smiling countenance, and it took all of Shirley's +strength, to wrest away the automatic revolver from the maddened +valet, to prevent swift revenge. + +"Why, Chen. He's caught. Don't shoot him now!" + +Chen, with a voluble stream of Nagasaki profanity, spluttered in +rage, and strove like a bantam rooster to get at his antagonist. +The necessity for quieting him to prevent bloodshed was fatal to +the pursuit of the other man, as Shirley realized bitterly. The +servants were running to the room by this time. The club steward +opened the battered door, and Shirley turned to explain. + +"You have a brave little man, here, Cushman. Chen heard this +burglar in my room, and tried to capture him at the risk of his +own life. He deserves promotion and a raise in salary. Go +downstairs and call the police. We'll have this fellow locked +up!" + +The man glared at Shirley, and rubbed his throat which throbbed +from the vice-like grip of the jiu-jitsu. Chen still breathed +hard and his almond eyes rolled nervously. At last he was quiet +again, although the slender fingers twitched hungrily for a +clawing of that dirty neck. Shirley patted him on the back. +Judgment had come to another of the gangsters, and the +criminologist was pleased at the diminution in the ranks of his +opponent. + +An examination of his cabinet and dresser drawers showed that the +pillaging had barely begun when Chen popped out of his hiding-place. +It was no wonder that Warren had been so solicitous as to the +speeding time: intuition had once more intervened to interrupt these +well-laid schemes. + +The little Jap could tell barely more of his adventure than that +he had opened the door when he heard men walking and talking in +the room. Then the struggle had ensued, with the result already +described. + +Now, indeed, was Shirley more puzzled than ever at Warren's +sudden departure. It had upset the plans of the conspirators: it +was an unwelcome surprise to their Chief. And furthermore it had +interfered with a little scheme of the criminologist by which he +had expected to craftily imprison his guest for the remainder of +the night. + +The room was put in order--not much was there to rearrange, for +the tussle had come so promptly. With a final look at his +belongings, Shirley left Chen in charge, not forgetting to slip +to him another reward for his courage. + +Then he went downstairs and hurried over to the Hotel California +to hold a conference of war with Helene Marigold. + +She was nervous, as she greeted him. Yet a subtle smile on her +face showed that she was not surprised by the visit. Shirley +quickly outlined the occurrences of the dinner hour. When he +asked her opinion, for he had learned to place a growing trust in +her quick grasp of things, she walked silently to her typewriter. + +"Here, sir, is a little note which may amuse you." + +She handed him a piece of paper. It read: + +"Chief: The Monk has turned up at the Blue Goose on Water Street. +He is drunk and telling all he knows. Come down at once to help +us quiet him. Hurry or every thing will be known. You know +who." + +Shirley looked at the message, and then with tilted eyebrows at +his fair companion. + +"What do you know about the Blue Goose?" he asked. "And the +Monk? For I presume that you wrote this out?" + +"Your presumption is correct. I remembered hearing Warren ask +Taylor this afternoon after that telephone call from you, where +the Blue Goose saloon could be. Taylor told him it was a +sailor's dive on Water Street. The night they thought me +dreaming on his library couch, I heard Taylor ask Warren if they +had heard from the Monk. So, it seemed to me that the two +questions might interest Mr. Reginald Warren if presented in a +language that he understood." + +"And what was that language?" + +"It was a code message, which I typed out on this Remwood machine +here, by the system you told me. It was slow work, but I +finished it and sent it over to the club, knowing Warren would be +with you. I really don't know what good the message would do. +But being an illogical woman, and a descendant of Pandora, I +thought it would be amusing to open the Pandora's box and let all +the little devils loose, just to see the glitter of their wings!" + +Shirley caught her hands delightedly. + +"You bully girl! Nothing could have happened better. I'll +improve my time now, by visiting Mr. Warren's apartment, impolite +as it is without an invitation. And then I think I will go +calling in that little cave of the winds in the rear of his art +collection, on the other street." + +"But, Monty--I Mean, Mr. Shirley," and a rosy embarrassment +overcame her, "you will put your head into the lion's mouth once +too often. Why not wait until you get him under lock and key?" + +"My dear girl, we will telephone my club and talk to the door +man. I think that he may be under lock and key by this time, in +a manner you little suspect. Let me have the number." + +He went to the instrument on her dressing-table. The club was +soon reached, and Dan the door man was answering his eager +question. + +"Yes, sir, the taxi has come back, sir." + +"Send the chauffeur to the wire. I want to talk to him," said +Shirley. The man was soon speaking. "What address did you take +that gentleman to, my man?" + +"Why, sir, I started out for the Battery, but sir, a terrible +thing happened." + +"What was it?" + +"The gentleman was overcome with an ep'leptic stroke or somethin' +like that. He pounded on the winder behind me, and when I +stopped me car, and looked in he was down an' out. I was on +Thirty-third Street and Fift' Avenue at the time, so I calls a +cop, and he orders me to run 'im over to Bellevue. He's there +now, sir. He ain't hardly breathin', sir. It's terrible!" + +"Too bad, I must go and call, to see if I can help him!" was +Shirley's remark as he hung up the receiver. He repeated the +news to Helene. Her eyes sparkled, as she said: "Ah, those +symptoms resemble the ones you told me which came from that +amo-amas-amat-citron, or whatever it was." + +"Not quite such a loving lemon, Miss Marigold," he chuckled. +"Amyl nitrite. The same soothing syrup which quieted our +would-be robbers on Sixth Avenue, that night when we left his +apartment. It will wear off in about three hours. I had a +little glass container folded in my own handkerchief, which I put +in his overcoat pocket as a parting souvenir, crushing it as I +did so. I reasoned that undue anxiety which he displayed might +cause him to mop his brow, close to that student-duel scar. One +smell of the chemical on that handkerchief, in the quantity which +I gave, was enough to quiet his worries. Now for the Somerset +Apartment." + +He looked at his watch. + +"It is eight fifteen. I want you to telephone up to Warren's +apartment exactly at ten o'clock. Tell them--there should be a +them, that I have been overcome in your apartment, and that they +are the only people who can help you, or who know you. I believe +that the idea of finding me unconscious, and getting me away will +bring any and all of his friends who may be there. If Taylor is +there with others, he will hardly leave them in the place when he +goes. What I want is to be sure that the coast is cleared of +people at that hour. Then I will make an investigation into his +papers and other matters of interest. Can I count on you?" + +A reproachful pouting of the scarlet lips was the only answer. +Shirley left, this time hurrying uptown to a certain +engine-house, +whose fire captain he had known quite well in the old reportorial +days. + +It was beginning to snow once more. And as Shirley slipped out +of the engine-house, carrying a scaling ladder which he had +borrowed after much persuasion from his good-natured friend, he +thanked his luck for this natural veiling of the night, to baffle +eyes too curious about the campaign he had planned. He knew the +posts of the policemen on this street, and sedulously avoided +them. + +The Warren apartment faced the Eastern side of the structure, and +when he reached the front of the Somerset, he sought for a way in +which to use his implement. A scaling ladder, it may be +explained to the uninitiated, is about eight feet long--a single +fire-proof bar, on which are short cross-pieces. At one end is a +curiously curving serrated hook, which is used for grappling on +the sills of windows or ledges above. It is the most useful +weapon for the city fire-fighter, enabling him to climb +diagonally across the face of a threatened structure, or even to +swing horizontally from one window to a far one, where ladders +and hose-streams might not reach. + +A hundred feet to the West of the Somerset he found the +excavations for a new apartment house. No watchman was in sight, +in the mist of falling flakes, so the criminologist disappeared +over the fence which separated the plot of ground from the +sidewalk. Advancing with many a stumble through the blasted rock +and shale, he obtained ingress to an alleyway in the rear. +Following this brought him to the back of the Somerset. Shirley +had an obstinate grandfather, and heredity was strong upon him. +It seemed a foolhardy attempt to scale the big structure, but he +raised the ladder to the window-sill of the second story, +climbing cautiously up to that ledge. + +On the second sill he rested, then stretched his scaler diagonally +forward to the left. As he put his feet upon this, he swung like a +pendulum across the space. It was a severe grueling of nerves, but +his judgment of placement was good. When the ladder stopped swinging +he clambered up another story, as he had learned to do on truant +afternoons wasted at the firemen's training school, during the +privileged days of journalistic work. + +Floor after floor he ascended, until he reached the eighth, on +which was Shirley's great goal. Here he exerted the utmost +prudence, refraining from the natural impulse to look down at the +great crevasse beneath him. His footing was slippery, but the +thickening snowfall was a boon in white disguise, for it +protected him from almost certain observation from the street +below. Slowly he raised his eyes to a level with the illuminated +window, and peered in. + +A strange sight greeted him. + +Shine Taylor was busily engaged in the 'twisting of coils of +wire, about shiny brass cylinders, with an array of small and +large clocks, electric batteries and mysterious bottles on the +carved library table. He was intent upon the manufacture of +another of his diabolical engines of death! + +Even as he watched, the door opened and who should stagger into +the room but Reginald Warren! + +"Great Scott, Reg! What hit you?" was Taylor's ejaculation, as +the other stumbled forward, with a hand to his purple face, to +sink into an easy-chair, groaning. The man outside the window +could not distinguish the words, but the current of thought was +well expressed in pantomime. + +"I've been drugged!" moaned Warren. "That devil put something on +my handkerchief which knocked me out. I came to in Bellevue and +I had a time getting away to come back here. What about the +Monk? Did you see him?" + +Taylor had run to his side. It seemed as though Warren's eyes +would pop from his head. The veins were swollen on his pallid +brow, and he gasped for air. + +"Open the window!" he murmured, and his confederate rushed to +the very portal through which the criminologist was watching this +unusual scene, with bated breath. His heart sank, as he lowered +himself with a suddenness which vibrated the loosely-attached +scaler. For the first time his eyes turned toward the terrifying +distance from which he had ascended. + +There was a squeak and he heard the window slide in its frame. +He felt that all was over. It would be impossible for Shine +Taylor not to observe the hooked prong of the ladder, with its +curving metal a few inches from his hands. In this ghastly +minute of suspense, Shiley's thoughts, strangely enough turned +back to one thing. He did not dash through the gamut of his life +experiences nor regret all past peccadilloes, as novelists inform +us is generally the ultimate thought in the supreme moment before +a dash into eternity! He felt only a maddening, itchingly +bewitching desire to reach up to his coat pocket and draw out +that scent-laden page of typed note-paper which had been +glorified by its caress of the warm, bare bosom of the wonderful +woman who had so mysteriously drifted into the current of his +life. + +Then he heard a voice through the open window so close to his +ears: it was Shine Taylor's nasal whine. + +"It's snowing, Reg. The air will do you good. What a gorgeous +night for a murder. Tell me now, what was the trouble?" + +And Shirley swung, and swung and swung! + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN THE DOUBLE TRAP + + +Eternity had passed, the Judgment Day had been overlooked and new +aeons had gone their way, it seemed to the criminologist, when +the voice was audible again. + +"Oh, all right. I just drew it down from the top. Tell me about +your doping. Who was the devil?" + +He had been unobserved. By the grace of the fates, Warren's +sudden appearance had given him a better chance to hear their +secrets, and Taylor's own abstraction had dissipated any interest +in the world beyond the window. Again he lifted himself to the +level of the sill, sure that the creamy curtains upon which the +light from the big electrolier was beaming, would shield him from +their view. Warren called for some brandy. Taylor served him, +but it was three minutes or more before the other could collect +himself. Then he began furiously, as the pain in his forehead +diminished. + +"This Shirley: he's a clever dog. He put something on my +handkerchief, and when I got that message of yours it got me, +right in the taxicab, as I was on my way to the Blue Goose to +meet you." + +"To meet me?" and Taylor's turn came to be startled. "I don't +know why you should meet me at the Blue Goose!" + +"Say, didn't you send me this note in code?" demanded Warren, +drawing out the typewritten sheet. Taylor shook his head, with a +blanched face. + +The other looked at him with the first evidence of fear which +Shirley had ever seen on the confident face. Warren caught his +assistant's hand, and drew his face down toward the note. + +"Look, it is in our code. Phil can read it but he is the only +one beside you. He is locked up in jail, and couldn't reach a +typewriter. I got a message from him this afternoon that he +wouldn't squeal. You know how he smuggled it out to me. Tell me +how could any one know about the Monk and write this so?" + +Taylor shook his head, speechless. As he turned his face toward +the window Shirley observed the great drawn shadows under his +squinting eyes. The sudden shock was telling on that weasel +face. Taylor walked unsteadily toward the infernal machine, and +he looked blankly toward Warren again. The other's blazing orbs +were full upon him now. There was a frightful menace in their +glittering depths as he spoke. + +"Taylor, if I thought you had sold out I'd skin you alive right +now!" + +"Reg--Reg--you are my best friend. Don't say a thing like that." + +"Are you selling me for some purpose. Are you soft on that +chicken? Has she blarneyed you into this?" demanded his chief, +rising, unsteadily, but fierce in his suspicious tensity. + +Taylor cowered, with imploring hands stretched out. + +"Why, Reg, no one ever did for me what you've done. I'd die +rather than sell you out, and there ain't a dame in the world +that could make me soft on a real game like this." + +As Warren studied his white face there came a tinkle on the +telephone. + +"What's that? Who's that?" Warren turned and ran toward the +instrument, still studying the face of his companion. It was +evident that a seed of distrust was planted in his bosom. He +answered nervously. + +"Yes, yes! What do you want? Who's speaking?" + +Then he listened, and a wise expression came over his face. It +broke into a smile for the first time since he entered the room. +He winked at Taylor who drew near him. Shirley strained his ears +to catch the words. + +"Yes, yes, why, my dear Miss Bonbon. Surely, I'll be glad to +come down--To help take care of Mr. Shirley--Of course, I will +come in my machine and bring him uptown to a hospital--That's +what you want?--Yes, indeed, nothing would give me greater +pleasure." + +He rang off, and turned toward Taylor. + +"That smooth devil has sniffed some of his own dope as sure as +you live, Shine. We'll get him. Call up and have the machine +sent around. You and I will be a committee of two, and we'll end +this tonight. Bring what you need." + +Warren drank another full glass of brandy, while Taylor gave a +quick order over the telephone. Then the latter snatched up a +small black satchel which was standing on a side table. The +assistant came to the window, and Shirley dropped down out of +sight, for another moment of suspense. But the sash was quickly +closed and bolted. + +The light was turned out, and he waited another five minutes, +stiffening in the cold wind which had sprung up to send the big +flakes in eddies against his numbed fingers. With difficulty he +fished out a long, thin wire from his pocket, with which he had +frequently turned the safety catch of windows on other such +occasions. Again it served its purpose, and he drew himself up +to the sash of the opened window. He brushed off the snow, so as +to leave no telltale puddles of drippings. He went to the door +of the library, and then to that of the vestibule. + +It was locked from the outside, even as they had done when Helene +was the drowsy prisoner. + +He had little time, he knew, for his search, but he first thought +of the girl's predicament. He must cover the tracks there. He +took up the receiver, and in a minute was talking to her. + +"I'm in. Leave word downstairs (and pay the clerk and bell-boy a +good bribe) that you have gone to a hospital with a sick friend. +Tell them to swear to that, and better still leave the hotel at +once, hunt up Dick Holloway--you'll find him at the Thespis Club +to-night. Send in the chauffeur to ask for him and have him stay +with you in the machine. I am going to visit the other place +when I finish here. I'll be down there, at the Thespis Club, by +eleven again. Good-bye--use your wits." + +Then he began a hurried ransacking of the apartment. He picked +up a note-book here, sheets of memoranda there, letters and +documents which he thought would be convenient. Warren's +bedrooms were locked, but a small "jimmie" sufficed to force +them open. He found in one drawer a dozen or more bank books, +with as many different financial houses, and under many names. +This he shoved into his pockets. At last, satisfied that he +could gain no more, he retreated to the window. He shut this and +was once more on the windowsill. Here he looked down, and a new +inspiration came to him. He would have difficulty in getting +admission to the apartment entrance, at this time of night. The +attendant would remember him and warn Warren upon the latter's +return. It was but one more climb, a single story, to the roof. +So, up he went, deserting the faithful scaling ladder on the +roof, for the time being. + +He sought around for several minutes on the snowy, slippery +surface before he found the entrance to the iron stairway close +by the elevator shaft. Then he went softly down. + +Past Warren's apartment, on his way without a noise, his boots +off, he continued until he reached the second floor. Here he was +baffled again. Why had he not taken some impression of the +pass-key of the negro attendant when let in before? Yet now he +remembered that the man had never relinquished his hold upon that +open sesame. He remembered the "jimmy"--yet this would betray +him, by the broken lock! + +There was the servant's entrance, however, in the rear of the +hallway. To this he slipped, even as the elevator passed up +bearing Warren and Shine Taylor, muttering angrily. Shirley +found the rear door to the rooms, and there he worked quickly, +forcing the lock. He was soon inside, and hid himself in the +pantry of the darkened apartment. He had not long to wait. + +There was a clicking noise which reverberated through the empty +room, as the other two entered by the front portal. He heard +them talking in whispers, then the creaking of a window, and all +was silent again. + +Shirley went to the same small window through which he had +descended before. With his boots tied together by their laces, +and suspended from his neck, on either side, he went down the +rope noiselessly. He found the iron door partially opened, as he +reached the end of the corridor. A block of wood held it back +from the jamb. + +"He is prepared for a quick retreat. So shall I be," thought +Shirley, as he noiselessly crept into the chamber, after having +drawn away the wooden block. He let the door come gently to its +frame, stopping it within an inch of its lock. As he turned +slightly forward he caught two curious silhouettes: Warren at his +table, with Shine at his side, their outlines clear and black +against the brightness of the headlights. On, the other side of +the transparent screen stood a man, with one eye blackened, his +face badly bruised and wicked in its battered condensation of +evil determination with rage and fright, so oddly mixed. + +"It ain't my fault, Chief! There are only six of the boys left. +I tried me best but this little Chinyman he soaks me one on the +lamp, with a gun butt. Me pal was nabbed in the room when I +sneaks out on the rope. I finds out afterward that Jimmie's +watch must-a been about twenty minutes slow. That's how we +misses." + +"But you didn't get him, and I'm going to break you for this!" + +"But gov'nor, listen--we leaves the machine all right. That'll +git 'im anyway. What'll I do?" + +"I have the addresses of the other men here in my pocket. You +tell them to stick right in their rooms for the next twenty-four +hours. If they don't hear anything from me, tell them to go to +Frisco by roundabout ways and I'll forward their money, care of +Kelso. Now get out." + +The man disappeared and there was a double click as the door to +the front compartment closed. Warren turned toward Taylor, While +Shirley flattened himself against the rear wall, and crouched +down slowly, without a betraying sound. + +"I don't understand that girl not being there. Some one's +closing in on us. I'm going to break that girl's spirit before +I'm through. She'll be on the yacht tonight, for everything's +ready now. What sort of a machine did you arrange for his room?" + +"The old telephone one we worked in Oakland. It is under his +bed. I told the men to do that first before they went through +his things. Then it would look like plain robbery, and when he +goes to take the receiver off the hook it's 'good-night, nursey!' +That little popper will blow the roof off that club house!" + +Shirley's blood might have run cold at the calm pride of this +degenerate fiend, had it not been boiling at the reference to +Helene. He crept nearer to them, along the wall. He lay down on +the floor, below the level of the first bullet paths. Then he +drew his automatic and the bulb light, ready for his surprise. + +"I'll call up Kick Brown at the telephone company. He's on duty +until twelve. That's an hour yet." + +He placed the plug in position but there came no answer over his +private wire. Warren cursed: this time in a dialect unknown to +Shirley. The man was asserting his most primitive nature now. + +"What does that mean? He knows that it's important to-night. +I wonder if some one has squealed. You know what I said +upstairs, Shine?" Warren's voice was ominous. "I don't like the +looks of things. And you're the only one who has ever known the +inside working of my system. I've even told you the key to my +code--Phil knows it in part, but there is nothing I've kept from +you." + +Here Shirley's dramatic instinct asserted itself. In a +sepulchral voice, he spoke: "One key to the right, in writing. +One to the left to read. Hands up, Warren, you're wanted in +Paris, and we have the goods on you!" + +Placing the bulb light far to his left, he twisted the little +catch which kept it glowing permanently. The light fell full on +the face of Warren and Taylor as they sprang up back to back! + +"Drop that revolver. It's all up now. You go to the chair for +these murders." + +Warren shot for the body he supposed to be above the little +light. As he did so Shirley sent a bullet into the arch +criminal's right wrist. The weapon dropped from his hand to the +table. Shine Taylor, terror-stricken, staggered against his +companion, groping for support. Warren misunderstood it: he +thought his assistant was trying to hold him. The swift +interpretation gave new fuel to the flame of mistrust which had +sprung up in his heart. He knew not how many men were about him +--he merely realized that his crafty plans had been set at +naught,--there could be only this one explanation. He struck at +Taylor, who moaned in pain. + +"You cur, you've squealed on me!" With his uninjured left hand +he caught the other in his Oriental death grip, with all his +consummate skill. Astonished at the sudden move, Shirley rose to +his feet. But he hesitated too long. + +With a faint gurgle, Shine Taylor, pickpocket, mechanical artist +and criminal genius sank to the mouldy ground of the cellar +--lifeless! + +Shirley snatched up the light, instinctively throwing its rays +upon the face of the dead man. It was horrible to see this +ghastly ending of the miserable life, so suddenly conceived and +grewsomely executed! Here was Warren's opportunity. He caught +up his weapon from the table with the left hand, and sent a shot +at the intruder, leaping at the same time toward the rear +entrance. Monty swung the light about, but the other threw on an +electric switch. He stood by the iron portal a fiendish smirk on +his distorted features. + +"So, my luck is good after all: I've got you where I most want +you!" His weapon covered Shirley's. "I shoot as well with my +left hand as with my right. But, no, I won't shoot you. I'll +put you away without a trace left. That is always the clever +way. I told you that the average criminal was too careless about +little things. Good-bye, Mr. Montague Shirley, I wish you a +pleasant journey!" + +His hand, bleeding from the bullet wound, was pushing the iron +door, behind him as he faced Shirley. Suddenly a frightful sound +broke the stillness: it was the final exhalation of air from the +dead man's lungs. It sent a creeping chill through Shirley's +blood. Warren's right hand dropped, nervously for an instant, +despite his resolution. In that second Shirley had brought his +own weapon up to a level with the other's eyes. + +The door closed with a clang! + +Warren's face lost its sneering smile. He was locked in from +the rear! + +"Now, let's see you get out the front way," retorted the +criminologist. He had one hand behind him. He felt a metal +contrivance, With three buttons on it. He thought perhaps it +were the controlling switch for the lights. He would take his +chances in the dark. He pressed all three quickly. + +There was a clang from the front, as some mechanism whirred for +an instant. A gong sounded above, and scurrying feet could be +heard--then were audible no more. It was the warning alarm for +the gangsters: they had fled. + +Suddenly to Shirley's straining ears came the tick-ticking of an +alarm clock, from the corner of the room to his right. He dare +not look at it. Warren's eyes grew black with the Great Fear! + +"You fool, you've locked all the entrances, and sent the men +away. That clock will ring in exactly five minutes. When it +does, this place will go up from a load of lyddite. You've dug +your own grave!" + +Warren's voice was hoarse, and his bright eyes radiated venomously, +as he kept his weapon pointed, like Shirley's, at the face opposite. +They were both prisoners in the death cellar, with the advantage in +favor of neither! + +And the ticking clock, with its maddening, mechanical death chant +seemed to Shirley to cry, with each beat, like the reminiscence +of some nightmare barbershop: "Next! Next! Next!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +CAPTURED AND THEN + + +Warren's white lips were moving in perfect synchronism, as he +counted the seconds and ticks of the clock. Shirley, never so +acute, cudgeled his mind for some devise by which he might +overcame the other. It was hopeless. At last, just as he knew +the inevitable second was almost completed, a faint rustling came +from the other side of the iron door. Warren's face brightened +with hope. With a nerve-racking rasp, the iron bar on the other +side was raised: it was a torturing delay as the two waited! + +The door slowly opened. After a harrowing pause a revolver +muzzle slid gently through the crack, and a woman's voice +murmured softly: "Drop the gun!" + +It was Helene Marigold! + +Warren's ashen face changed to purple hue, his hand trembled just +enough to incite Shirley to a desperate chance. As the criminal +drew the trigger with a spasmodic jerk, Shirley was dropping to +the floor, whence he pushed himself forward with a froglike leap, +as he straightened out the great muscles. + +Together they rolled in a frenzied struggle. + +"Run back, Helene. The clock will explode!" cried Shirley, +desperately. Instead, she sprang into the bright room, espied +the diabolical arrangement in the corner, and ran to pick it up. +She saw the wire, and her deft fingers reached behind the clock +to turn back its hands. Had she torn the wire, as a man would +have done, the dreaded explosion would have ended it all. + +"We're coming!" + +It was the voice of Pat Cleary from the passageway. He rushed +through the subterranean passage, followed by several men, with +Dick Holloway excitedly in their train. After a titanic +struggle, with the man baffled in this maddening moment of ruined +triumph, they handcuffed him. + +Shirley led Helene into the front compartment before she could +observe the horror stamped upon the face of the murdered rogue. + +The girl turned her glorious eyes to his, reached forth her +hands, and then the eternal feminine conquered as she trembled +unsteadily and sank into his arms. + +"Break down the doors, Cleary. Out here, to the street. Pull +off the hands of that clock--it's a lyddite bomb!" cried Shirley, +excitedly. + +One of the men used the table with clattering effect. The iron +door of the front room gave way, and Shirley carried Helene up +the ladder, to the main floor of the old garage. She seemed a +sleeping lily--so pale, so fragile, so fragrant in her colorless +beauty. He had never seen her so before! For an instant a great +terror pierced him: she seemed not to breathe. But as he placed +his face close to her mouth, her eyes opened for one divine look, +then drooped again. A white hand and arm curled, with childish +confidence, about his shoulder. He bore her thus to the big car +from the Agency, which stood outside. + +"Quick, down to the Hotel California," he called to the +chauffeur, "Pat Cleary can handle matters there." + +As they sped toward her apartment the roses took their wonted +place in her cheeks. She sat up to smile in his face. Then she +lowered her glance, with carmine mounting hotly to her brow. +Helene said no word--nor did Shirley. She simply leaned toward +him, to bury her face upon the broad shoulder, as neither heeded +the possible curiosity of the driver on the seat in front. + +At least, they understood completely. There was nothing else to +say! + + * * * + +As Shirley left her at the door of the apartment, he turned into +the elevator, his mind whirling with the strange imprisonment +into which he had let his unwilling heart drift. The clerk +stopped him at the lower floor. + +"There's a call for you, sir. It's rush, the gentleman said!" + +"Great Scott! What now?" he ran to the instrument, and he heard +Captain Cronin's excited voice. + +"Shirley. The man's escaped again! They just came into the +place. He threw some sort of bottle at the front of the patrol +wagon which blew it all to pieces. He got away in the mix-up +--three policemen were injured!" + +"I'll get him, Captain, if it's the last act of my life." + +To the surprise of the blase clerk, the well-known club man ran +out of the hotel, dropping his hat in his excitement. He shouted +to the driver who still waited in the agency machine. + +"The sky's the limit, now, son. Race for Twenty-first Street and +the East River. Let me off at the end of the dock. Then go back +to get some men from the agency, as I'll have a prisoner, then, +or they'll get my body!" + +The machine raced down the street, regardless of the warnings of +policemen. Shirley was confident that his was not the only car +on such a mission. He reached the dock of Manby, where was +waiting the expert engineer of the hydroplane. He had not +planned in vain. + +"Have you seen an auto go past here before mine?" + +"Yes, sir, I was smoking me pipe, and settin' on the rail of the +dock, when one shoots up toward the Twenty-third Street Ferry, +with a cop on a motor-cycle chasin' it behind." + +"Then, quick, into the boat." + +They clambered down the wet ladder, and after an aggravating +delay, the whirring engines of the racing craft were started. +Shirley took off his coat, and lashed a long rope about his +waist. He tied the other end of it securely to a thwart in the +boat. + +"What's your idee, Cap?" asked the engineer, as he waited the +signal. + +"There's a man trying to catch that white yacht out in the river. +I want to get him, that's all. If I fall out of this boat, keep +right on going, for I'm tied up now. Where's the boat hook?" + +"Here, sir. Are you ready? Just give me your directions. All +right, sir, we're off." + +Shirley grunted and the hydroplane sped out onto the river, in a +big curve, as he directed. Like a white ghost on the river was +the trim yacht, which even now could be seen speeding down the +stream, all steam up. There were two toots on the whistle and +Shirley feared that his man had boarded her. But the hydroplane, +ploughing through the cold waves, whizzed toward the yacht, as he +climbed out to the small flat stern. A small boat had swung +close to the yacht now. A ladder had been lowered from a spar, +while a man standing in the little craft missed it. The yacht +was gliding past the boat, when another rope ladder was deftly +swung over the stern. + +The hydroplane was close up now, and Shirley saw his prey +dangling at the end of the ladder, now in the water, struggling +with the rungs of the ladder, and now being drawn up. + +His engineer, with a skilful hand on the helm, swung in close to +the yacht, as keen for the capture as his patron. They whizzed +past at almost railroad speed, and Shirley, sprang toward the +ladder. His arms closed about the body of Reginald Warren in a +grip which he braced by a curious finger-lock he had learned in +wrestling practice. + +Two revolvers barked over the taffrail of the yacht, as the +hydroplane raced onward, dragging Shirley and his prisoner at the +end of the rope, through the water. Again the shots rang out, +but they were out of range, on the dark waters so quickly, that +before the police boat had set out from shore to investigate the +firing from the pleasure vessel, the criminologist's struggle +with his wounded antagonist was over. + +Half drowned, himself, with Warren completely past consciousness, +Shirley was pulled into his own boat as the engines were slowed +down. They returned rapidly to the dock. + +"Help me work him--that was a pretty rough yank. He's been shot +in the hand already." + +They rolled Warren on a barrel, "pumped" his arms, and by the +time the Cronin automobile had returned with the other +detectives, Warren was restored to understanding again. Shirley +forced some liquor between his teeth, to be greeted with a +torrent of strange oaths. + +"The jig is up, Warren," said the criminologist. "As a chess-player +in the little game, you are a wonder. But, I think I may at last +call 'Checkmate.'" + +"I'm not dead yet, Shirley," hissed Warren. "I gave you your +chance to keep out of this. But you wouldn't take it. I'll +settle the score with you before I'm finished. There's one man +in the world who knows how to get away from bars. I'm that man." + +Then his teeth snapped together with a click. He said nothing +more that night, even during the operation for probing Shirley's +bullet, and the painful dressing. At the station-house, and his +arraignment before the magistrate at Night Court, where he saw +some other familiar faces of his fellow gangsters--now rounded up +on the same charges--he still maintained that feline silence. + +And his eyes never left the face of Montague Shirley, as long as +that calm young man was in sight! + +Shirley merely presented his charge of murder--for the strangling +of Shine Taylor. The names of the aged millionaires were not +brought into the matter--there was no need. He had done his work +well. + +At Cronin's agency, late that night, there came a cablegram from +the greatest detective bureau of France. + +"The Montfleury case" was the most daring robbery and sale of +state war secrets ever perpetrated in Paris. It had been +successful, despite the capture, and conviction of the criminal, +Laschlas Rozi, a Hungarian adventurer who had killed three men to +carry his point. The scoundrel had escaped after murdering his +prison guard, and wearing his clothes out of the gaol. A reward +of 100,000 francs had been offered for his capture, by the +Department of Justice. + +"Monty, who gets all the credit for this little deal--that's +what's bothering me?" asked Captain Cronin, as they sipped a +toast of rare old port, in his rear office. + +Shirley lit the ubiquitous cigarette, and tilted back in his +chair. + +"Captain: why ask foolish questions? This case ought to buy you +five or six of those big farms you've been planning about--and +leave you fifty thousand dollars with which to pay the damages +for being a gentleman farmer." + +"And you, Monty? You know you never have to present a bill with +me. What will you do with your pin money?" + +"I'm going down on Fifth Avenue tomorrow and invest it in a +solitaire ring, for a very small finger." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +CONCLUSION + + +Shirley made some investigations in a private reading room of the +Public Library: there was much good treasure there, not salable +over the counter of a grocery store, mayhap, but unusually +valuable in the high grade work which was his specialty. In an +old volume enumerating the noble families of Austro-Hungary he +found two distinguished lines, "Laschlas" and "Rozi." + +From the library he went to a cable office where he sent a +message to the chief of police of Budapesth inquiring about the +remaining members of the families. The old volume in the library +was thirty-four years behind the times: it was the only record +obtainable in America. + +After a couple of hours, which he devote to some personal +matters, he received a response to his inquiry. When translated +from the Hungarian it read thus: + +"Professor Montague Shirley, College Club, N.Y., U.S.A. + +Families extinct except Countess Laschlas, and son Count Rozi +Laschlas, reported killed in Albanian revolution. + + Csherkini, Minister of Justice." + +The criminologist was happy. Here was a weapon which he had not +yet used. Now he turned his steps towards the Tombs, for an +interview with the prisoner. + +After some parley with the warden, he was admitted for a visit to +Reginald Warren. That gentleman's fury was rekindled at the +sight of the club man who had been so instrumental in his +downfall. But a cunning smile played over the features of the +criminal. + +"So, you have come to gloat over your work, Shirley? Well, it is +a game two can play." + +"Yes? I am always interested in sport. I came to see if there +was anything I could do for you in your confinement," was the +unruffled reply. + +"You will be busy with your own affairs," retorted Warren. "I +have been busy writing my confession. Here is the manuscript. I +will baffle all your efforts to hush up the affairs of the +'Lobster Club.' Furthermore, my confession," (and he exultantly +waved a mass of manuscript at his visitor,) "will send young Van +Cleft to prison for perjury on the certificate of his father's +death. Captain Cronin, that prince of blockheads, will share the +same fate. Professor MacDonald, who I know very well signed the +death certificates, will be disgraced and driven from +professional standing. You will be implicated in this plot to +thwart justice. With the German university thoroughness to which +you so sarcastically referred, I have written down the facts as +carefully as though I were preparing a thesis for a doctor's +degree!" + +He laughed maliciously, studying the effect of his words. He was +disappointed. Shirley's bland manner changed not a whit. +Instead the criminologist offered him a cigarette. + +"You might as well smoke now--as later!" and there was a wealth +of innuendo in the emphasis. "Is that all you are going to do, +to square your accounts?" + +"By no means! As my trump card, I have implicated Miss Helene +Marigold in the various exploits which have been so successful +now. She is unknown in New York--I investigated that matter. +She will have a fine task in proving an alibi, after the careful +preparation I have made. In fact, I accuse her of being the +mistress of my dead con'federate--" + +Shirley sprang to his feet, and the rage which was shown in his +strong features brought a leer to the face of the other. + +"Strike me," continued the tormentor. "All I have to do is to +call the guard. I have been busy thinking since they locked me +up here. There is nothing more to do to me than the electric +chair--but, I am not finished yet." + +The criminologist controlled himself with difficulty. He +realized that an altercation with the prisoner would shatter his +whole case, like a house of cards blown down by a vagrant breeze. +He sat down again, the mask of calm indifference playing over +his features. + +"And what then?" + +"Is not that sufficient to interest you? It will be another +month before my trial, and my literary work has just begun. The +newspapers are filled with war news, which have ceased to be a +nine days' wonder. I shall provide them with material which will +be the story of the age! Another month, and then?" + +The prisoner lit the cigarette which he had accepted, and +stretched back in the plain wooden chair to enjoy the misery of +his victim. + +"But, a month--let me see? That would enable me to do some +corresponding myself, wouldn't it?" and Shirley took out a +memorandum book. "You have degraded a splendid intellect, a +gallant spirit and brought disgrace upon yourself, for this +miserable ending. You have ruthlessly murdered others, caring +naught for the misery and wretchedness of those left behind. Has +it been worth it all, Warren?" + +The other's eyes twinkled, as he nodded. + +"A wonderful game. And I haven't completed the score, even now." + +"You are right, Warren. There is one soul more whom you have not +affected. It is too bad that you were not killed in the Albanian +revolution,--then you would have been on record as a hero instead +of the vilest scoundrel in Christendom." + +Had the death-dealing current of the electric chair been turned +upon Warren he could not have been more startled, as he sprang +up. His pallid face seemed to turn a sickly green, as his dark +eyes opened in galvanized amazement. + +"Albanian--what do you mean? I never saw Albania!" + +"You will never see it again. You will never see Budapesth +again, either," was the menacing continuation of the +criminologist's methodical speech. "But a very old lady, the +Countess Laschlas, will see the accounts of her son's wretched +death, in the New York papers which will be sent to her, in care +of the American consul!" + +It was merely a deductive guess: but the shot struck the center +of the bull's-eye. Warren, alias Count Laschlas, staggered back, +and his nervous fingers touched the chilling surface of the stone +wall. He dropped his eyes, and then strove to regain his +nonchalance. It was a pitiable failure. + +"Just as you have dealt to the children of others, so will you +deal with your own mother, the last of a distinguished line of +aristocrats. I swear, by the memory of my own dead parents, that +I will avenge the misery you have given to the innocent. The +good Book says, the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the +children even unto the third and the fourth generation. But life +to-day has taught me that the sins of the children are visited +upon the fathers and the mothers--especially, the sweet, loving, +trusting mothers! As I value my honor, Reginald Warren, or Count +Rozi, I will see to it that your mother shall know every detail +of the whole miserable career of her son. That is my answer to +your alleged confession. If there is a hereafter, from which you +may observe that which follows your death, you will be able to +see through eternity the earthly punishment which has been +visited upon the one person whom you love and respect." + +The criminal's ashen face was buried in his hands. + +Great sobs emanated from his white lips, as his shoulders heaved +in a paroxysm. + +Shirley had struck the Achilles tendon--the hardest wretch in the +world had one, as he knew! + +"Oh--oh--" he moaned, "the poor little mutter. She has forgiven +so much, suffered so much. You can't do it. You won't do it!" +He fell to his knees, clawing at the criminologist's garments +with his trembling hands, the tears streaming down his face. + +"What about those who have seen no compassion from you?" cried +Shirley in a terrible voice. "Your vanity, your self-worship! +Do they not comfort you now? This is only the suffering of +another which you contemplate! Why all these hysterics?" + +Warren, groveling on the floor of the reception-room, was a +picture of abject, horrid soul-torture. At last, through the +subtlety of this unconventional sleuth, along methods which were +never dreamed of in the ordinary police category, he had been +broken on the wheel which he had himself so cunningly +constructed! + +"And if that mother dies, cursing your memory with her last +breath, cursing the love of the father, of her husband, of the +ancestors, all responsible for your being in the world today, +what will you think, when you watch from the other side of that +great unseen wall?" + +"Oh, Shirley! I can't. See--I'll destroy this stuff. I'll keep +silent about the others. I mean it. Here: I tear it up now and +give you the pieces to burn!" + +Warren, maddened by his fears, nervously tore the sheets into +bits and pressed the remnants into the criminologist's hands. + +"Will you promise to keep my identity a secret?" + +"I will not send word to Budapesth. You have a bad record in +Paris, and other parts of the world. But, if you play fair on +the confidential nature of this case, saving the innocent from +disgrace and shame, I will see that the story never reaches your +mother. There is no need to ask this on your honor--that does +not count." + +Warren winced at this final thrust. He turned toward Shirley, +eagerly. + +"You don't understand me at that, Shirley. I have had a curious +career. Somewhere I inherited a strain of criminality--you know +how many ancestors a man has in ten generations. I was a member +of a poor but prominent family. The government paid for my +education in the best universities of Europe, for I was to hold a +position under the Emperor, which had been held in my family for +generations. But I was ruined by the extravagances and the +excesses which I learned from the rich young men whom I met. I +studied feverishly, yet was able to waste much time with the +gilded fools, by my ability to learn more quickly. The result +was that I could not be contented with the small salary of my +government office. I had to keep up appearances with my +companions. So, I drifted into gambling, into sharp tricks--then +became a mercenary soldier, an officer, in the continuous +revolutions of the southeastern part of Europe. I sank deeper +and at last, in one serious escapade, I managed to have myself +reported dead, so as to quiet the heartaches of my mother, who +believed I was killed on the battlefield. There is the miserable +story--or all I will tell. They caught me in Paris and a girl +betrayed part of my name--fortunately they did not hunt me up, so +my mother was saved that disgrace. Will you keep the secret now, +on our understanding?" + +"I give you my word for that, Warren." Shirley rose, putting the +torn-up papers into his pockets. "I am sorry for the past--but +you have made the present for yourself. Good-bye." + +Warren returned to his cell and the detective to the club house. + +There he found an additional cable message. It said: "Countess +Laschlas has been dead ten months." It was signed like the +other. + +Shirley tore up the message, and blinked more than seemed +necessary. + +"Poor little old lady, she knows it all now. I will not have to +tell her." + + * * * + +That afternoon Shirley called again at the Hotel California for +Helene. + +"I want you to go to a sweet, old-fashioned English tea-room, +where I may tell you the rest of the story. There will be no +tango music, no cymbals, no tinkling cocktails, nor, champagne. +Can you pour real tea?" + +"I am an English girl. I have been five days without it." + +As they were ensconced at the quaint little table, he realized +how wondrously blended in her was that triad of feminine +essential spirits: the eternal mother instinct, the sensuous +strength of the wife-love and the wistful allurement of maiden +tenderness. + +"Does my great big boy wish three lumps of sugar, after his hard +tasks?" + +"He'll die in the flower of immaturity if he has too many sweets +in one day." + +He drew out his memorandum book, opening it to a closely-written +page. + +"Before the confections, I must hand in my report to the +commanding officer." + +"Advance three paces to the front, and hand over the details," +and she added another lump of sugar, with a mischievous twinkle +in the blue eyes. + +"Very well, excellency. We transcribed the addresses of Warren's +gangsters from his note-book, and they have all been arrested. The +men we captured in the earlier skirmishes are all languishing in the +tombs, as accomplices in his crime, as well as for their attempts +against my own life. You will be astonished, Helene, at the +revelations of his operations as shown by his bank-books, a +translation of that diary and some of the letters which I took when +I burglarized his rooms. I have sent a code letter to Phil, advising +him to confess all, and that man's testimony adds to the +corroboration. I went down to the District Attorney with a full +statement of the facts, leaving nothing unbared. Like me, he agreed +that it were best to let the law take its course, demanding the full +penalty, and saving the honor of a dozen families who would have +been dragged into the case, had not Warren laid himself liable by +the murder of his confederate, Taylor. That young man was an +electrical genius--with his brains misguided by his equally +misdirected employer. There is no chance of a miscarriage of +justice, and Warren had accumulated so much money that many of the +victims of his organization can be reimbursed in full." + +"You have handled all this with a suspicious skill for a lazy +society man, with no experience in such matters." + +Shirley understood the subtle sarcasm of the remark, but he +proceeded unruffled, to lull her suspicious. + +"I only tried to cover the points which meant happiness and peace +of mind to others. It was merely a matter of common or garden +horse sense, as we call it in America. Warren has been +systematically robbing the rich men of New York for three years, +under various subterfuges. No wonder he could afford such +gorgeous collections of art, keeping aloof from his associates in +crime. His treasures, like those in many European museums were +bought with blood. It is curious how a complex case like this +smooths itself out so simply when the key is obtained. And you, +Helene, have been the genius to supply that key: my own work has +been merely corroborative!" + +He looked at the delicate features of the girl, remembering with +a recurring thrill the margin by which they had escaped death in +the cellar den of the conspirators. + +"Cleary and Dick Holloway told me how cleverly you led the men to +the Somerset where you followed my trail through the mole's +passage. It was a frightful risk for you to take: Cleary should +have had more sense and led the way himself." + +Helene's lips pursed themselves into a tempting pout. + +"Are you not happier that it was I, at that supreme moment?" + +"Indeed I am: success was all the sweeter. There is remaining +only one mystery which I must admit is still unsolved in this +curious affair. And that is you. Who are you?" + +She parried with the same question. + +"I know your name, sir, but you profess to be a society +butterfly, flitting from pleasure to dissipation, and back again. +Tell me the truth, now, if ever." + +"Why--gracious, Helene--of all the foolish questions!" He was +adorably boyish in his confusion. She laughed gleefully, like a +happy schoolgirl. + +"Then, Monty Shirley, my score is better than yours, for I have +every mystery cleared. But while I know all about you, what +frightful chances you are taking with me!" + +Shirley reddened, as he burned his finger with the match which +had been raised to the end of his cigarette. He accused her of +teasing, and she glanced happily at the iridiscent solitaire upon +the third finger of her left hand. + +"Dear boy, I realize that I understand about you what you cannot +fathom with me. You are not a moth, but your self-sacrifice, and +bravery in this case are professional: you worked on this case as +you have on a hundred others: you are a very original and +successful expert in criminology. And I am not more than half +bad at observation and deduction, myself; now, am I, dear?" + +Shirley gracefully admitted defeat, with a question: "Who are +you, Helene? And who is dear old Jack?" + +The roses blossomed in her cheeks as she answered: "Jack is a +very sweet boy, ten years older than you in gray hair and the +calendar, and infinitely younger in worldly wisdom and intellect. +He is an English army officer, who was foolish enough to imagine +he loved me, foolish enough to propose every three days for +the last three years and foolish enough to bore me until in +self-defense I escaped from his clutches. As for myself, at +least I am not the young woman who can stand staying in that +gaudy theatrical hotel for another day longer. I have done so +many bold, unmaidenly things that you may believe it easy for +me. It is not. + +"I am truly a horrid, old-time, hoopskirt-minded prude. My first +act of domestic tyranny is to make you find a sedate, prim place +for my work and play, where I may know my own blushes when I see +them in the mirror, and will have less occasion to deserve them!" + +"Your work? What is that?" + +"It is very hard work--with a typewriter, but not in code. I +will not divulge my name until we tell it to the marriage license +clerk. But Dick Holloway knows me, and I came to this country, +partly to see him. I have written a few plays, which simple as +they were, seemed to interest European audiences and critics. +Some of my novels have strangely enough brought in royalties, +despite the publishers! But, I became satiated with life in +England and on the Continent. I came here because I felt that I +needed life in a younger and newer country. I needed an +emotional and physical awakening." + +"You have not wasted any time in drowsiness since you +reached America." + +"No--and all because I went to Holloway's office that fateful +morning, before I saw any one else in New York, to ask about a +play which he is to produce this spring. I confess that it was +my first experience as an actress. Will you forgive my +deception?" + +Shirley nodded, as he studied the animated face with a new +interest. He admitted to himself that Holloway's prediction had +come true--he had met his match. + +"And so, my dear Helene (for such I shall always call you, +whether your really, truly name be Mehitabel, Samantha or +Sophronisa) you came here, went through all these horrors without +a complaint, crushing the independence of my confirmed +bachelorhood for the sake of what we newspaper men call copy?" + +Helene nodded demurely. + +"Yes, but it was such wonderful 'copy,' Monty boy." + +The criminologist scowled over his cigarette, yet he could not +feel as unhappy as he felt this defeat should make him. + +"When will the 'copy' be ready for publication, my dear girl. It +would be most interesting, I fancy." + +Helene caught his hand, drawing it toward her throbbing heart. +Her wet lips were almost touching his ear, as she confided, +whisperingly, with the blue eyes averted: "Only published in +editions de luxe: some bindings will be with blue ribbons, some +with pink. All of them with flexible backs and gloriously +illumined by the Master's brush. The authors' autographs will be +on every copy to prove the collaboration, and every volume will +be a poem in itself .... But there, Montague dear, I am a +novelist--not a fortune-teller!" + +"How can I forecast the exact dates of publication?" + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Voice on the Wire, by Eustace Hale Ball + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOICE ON THE WIRE *** + +This file should be named vcntw10.txt or vcntw10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, vcntw11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, vcntw10a.txt + + + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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