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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Voice on the Wire, by Eustace Hale Ball
+
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+*****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]
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+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
+
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