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diff --git a/old/68875-h/68875-h.htm b/old/68875-h/68875-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 56b06f2..0000000 --- a/old/68875-h/68875-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11776 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title> - The lion’s share, by Octave Thanet—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.tdr {text-align: right;} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - text-indent: 0; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; -} - -.x-ebookmaker .blockquot { - margin-left: 7.5%; - margin-right: 7.5%; -} - -.indentright {margin-right: 8em;} -.indentright2 {margin-right: 4em;} -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} - -.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} -.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} - -div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} -div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} - - -.xxlarge {font-size: 175%;} - -.large {font-size: 125%;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} - -.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -.footnote {margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 0%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 63%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry-container2 {text-align: left;} -.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} -.poetry .indent {text-indent: 1.5em;} -.poetry .center {text-align: center;} -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; - padding: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - - /* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The lion's share, by Octave Thanet</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The lion's share</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Octave Thanet</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Edmund Marion (E. M.) Ashe</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 30, 2022 [eBook #68875]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Most recently updated: January 28, 2023</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: David E. Brown and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S SHARE ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<h1>THE LION’S SHARE</h1> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">“Yes,” he said quietly, “you are right, it is blood.” Page <a href="#Page_99">99</a></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<p><span class="xxlarge">THE LION’S SHARE</span></p> - -<p><i>By</i><br /> - -<span class="large">OCTAVE THANET</span><br /> - -Author of<br /> -The Man of the Hour, Stories of a Western Town<br /> -The Missionary Sheriff<br /> -A Book of True Lovers, etc.</p> - -<p>With Illustrations by<br /> - -E. M. ASHE</p> - -<p>INDIANAPOLIS<br /> -THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY<br /> -PUBLISHERS</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright 1907</span><br /> - -<span class="smcap">The Bobbs-Merrill Company</span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">October</span></p> - -<p class="center">ROBERT DRUMMOND COMPANY, PRINTERS, NEW YORK</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table> - -<tr><td class="tdr"><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">I</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Man with the Moles</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">II</td><td> <span class="smcap">Aunt Rebecca</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25"> 25</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">III</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Train Robbers</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46"> 46</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IV</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Vanishing of Archie</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70"> 70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">V</td><td> <span class="smcap">Blind Clues</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83"> 83</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VI</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Voice in the Telephone</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_100"> 100</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VII</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Haunted House</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_118"> 118</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">Face to Face</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_138"> 138</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IX</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Agent of the Fireless Stove</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_152"> 152</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">X</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Smoldering Embers</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171"> 171</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XI</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Charm of Jade</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_195"> 195</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XII</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Blow</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_212"> 212</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">Whose Feet Were Shod with Silence</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_245"> 245</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XIV</td><td> <span class="smcap">From Mrs. Melville’s Point of View</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_254"> 254</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XV</td><td> “<span class="smcap">The Light That Never was</span>”</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_265"> 265</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XVI</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Real Edwin Keatcham</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_290"> 290</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XVII</td><td> <span class="smcap">In Which the Puzzle Falls Into Place</span>     </td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_321"> 321</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">Casa Fuerte</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_343"> 343</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XIX</td><td> <span class="smcap">Extract from a Letter</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_371"> 371</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse"><i>Serene, indifferent to fate,</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>Thou sittest by the Western gate,</i></div> -<div class="verse"><i>Thou seest the white seas fold their tents,</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>Oh, warder of two continents.</i></div> -<div class="verse"><i>Thou drawest all things small and great</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>To thee beside the Western gate.</i></div> -</div></div> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> - -<p class="ph2">THE LION’S SHARE</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I<br /> - -<small>THE MAN WITH THE MOLES</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>The first time that Colonel Rupert Winter saw -Cary Mercer was under circumstances calculated -to fix the incident firmly in his memory. In the -year 1903, home from the Philippines on furlough, -and preparing to return to a task big -enough to attract him in spite of its exile and -hardships, he had visited the son of a friend at -Harvard. They were walking through the corridors -of one of the private dormitories where the -boy roomed. Rather grimly the soldier’s eyes -were noting marble wainscoting and tiled floors, -and contrasting this academic environment with -his own at West Point. A caustic comment rose -to his lips, but it was not uttered, for he heard the -sharp bark of a pistol, followed by a thud, and a -crackle as of breaking glass.</p> - -<p>“Do you fellows amuse yourselves shooting up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> -the dormitory?” said he. The boy halted; he had -gone white.</p> - -<p>“It came from Mercer’s room!” he cried, and -ran across the corridor to a door with the usual -labeling of two visiting cards. The door was not -locked. Entering, they passed into a vestibule, -thence through another door which stood open. -For many a day after the colonel could see just -how the slender young figure looked, the shoulders -in a huddle on the study table, one arm -swinging nerveless; beside him, on the floor, -a revolver and a broken glass bottle. The latter -must have made the crackling sound. Some dark -red liquid, soaking the open sheets of a newspaper, -filled the room with the pungent odor of alcohol. -Only the top of the lad’s head showed—a curly, -silky, dark brown head; but even before the colonel -lifted it he had seen a few thick drops matting -the brown curls. He laid the head back gently -and his hand slipped to the boy’s wrist.</p> - -<p>“No use, Ralph,” he said in the subdued tones -that the voice takes unconsciously in the presence -of death.</p> - -<p>“And Endy was going to help him,” almost -sobbed Ralph. “He told me he would. Oh, <i>why</i> -couldn’t he have trusted his friends!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span>The colonel was looking at the newspaper—“Was -it money?” said he; for a glance at the -dabbled sheet had brought him the headings of -the stock quotations: “Another Sharp Break in -Stocks. New Low Records.” It <i>had</i> been money. -Later, after what needed to be done was over, -after doctors and officers of the law were gone, -Colonel Winter heard the wretched story. A -young, reckless, fatally attractive Southerner, -rich friends, college societies, joyous times; nothing -really wicked or vicious, only a surrender to -youth and friendship and pleasure, and then the -day of reckoning—duns, college warnings, the -menace of black disgrace. The young fellow was -an orphan, with no near kindred save one brother -much older than he. The brother was reputed to -be rich, according to Southern standards, and -young Mercer, who had just come into a modest -patrimony of his own, invested in his brother’s -ventures. As to the character of these ventures, -whether flimsy or substantial, the colonel’s informants -were absolutely ignorant. All they knew -of the elder Mercer was that he was often in New -York and had “a lot to do with Wall Street.” He -wasn’t a broker; no, he was trying to raise money -to hang on to some big properties that he had;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -and the stocks seemed to be going at remarkable -rates just now, the bottom dropping out of the -market. If a certain stock of the Mercers’—they -didn’t know the name—could be kept above -twenty-seven he would pull through. Colonel -Winter made no comment, but he remembered -that when he had studied the morning’s stock-market -pages for himself, he had noted “bad -slump in the Southern steels,” and “Tidewater -on the toboggan slide; off three to four points, -declining from twenty-seven and a fraction to -twenty-three.”</p> - -<p>“Another victim of the Wall Street pirates,” -was the colonel’s silent judgment on the tragedy. -“Lucky for her his mother’s dead.”</p> - -<p>The next morning he had returned and had -gone to his young friend’s rooms.</p> - -<p>The boy was still full of the horror of the day -before. Mercer’s brother was in Cambridge, he -said—arrived that morning from New York. -“Endy is going to fetch him round to get him out -of the reporters’ way sometime this evening; -maybe there’s something I can do”—this in explanation -of his declining to dine with the colonel. -As the two entered the rooms, Winter was a little -in advance, and caught the first glimpse of a man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> -sitting in a big mission arm-chair, his head sunk -on his breast. So absorbed was this man in his -own distempered musings that the new-comers’ -approach did not arouse him. He sat with knitted -brows and clenched hands, staring into vacancy; -his rigid and pallid features set in a ghastly intensity -of thought. There was suffering in the -look; but there was more: the colonel, who had -been living among the serpent passions of the -Orient, knew deadly anger when he saw it; it was -branded on the face before him. Involuntarily he -fell back; he felt as if he had blundered in on a -naked soul. Noiselessly he slipped out of the -range of vision. He spoke loudly, halting to ask -some question about the rooms; this made a moment’s -pause.</p> - -<p>It was sufficient; in the study they found a -quiet, calm, although rather haggard-looking man, -who greeted Winter’s companion courteously, -with a Southern accent, and a very good manner. -He was presented to the colonel as Mr. Mercer. -He would have excused himself, professing that -he was just going, but the colonel took the words -out of his mouth: “Ralph, here, has a cigar for -me—that is all I came for; see you at the Touraine, -Ralph, to-morrow for luncheon, then.” He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -did not see the man again; neither did he see -Ralph, although he made good, so far as in him -lay, his fiction of an engagement at the Touraine. -But Ralph could not come; and Winter had -lunched, instead, with an old friend at his club, -and had watched, through a stately Georgian window, -the shifting greenery of the Common in an -east wind.</p> - -<p>All through the luncheon the soldier’s mind -kept swerving from the talk in hand to Cary -Mercer’s face. Yet he never expected to see it -again. Three years later he did see it; and this -second encounter, of which, by the way, Mercer -was unconscious, was the beginning of an absorbing -chapter in his life. A short space of time that -chapter occupied; yet into it crowded mystery, -peril, a wonderful and awful spectacle, the keenest -happiness and the cruelest anxiety. Let his days -be ever so many, the series of events which followed -Mercer’s reappearance will not be blurred -by succeeding experiences; their vivid and haunting -pictures will burn through commoner and -later happenings as an electric torch flares through -layers of mist.</p> - -<p>Nothing, however, could promise adventure -less than the dull and chilly late March evening<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> -when the chapter began. Nor could any one be -less on the lookout for adventure, or even interest, -than was Rupert Winter. In truth, he was -listless and depressed.</p> - -<p>When he alighted from his cab in the great -court of the Rock Island Station he found Haley, -his old orderly, with a hand on the door-hasp. -Haley’s military stoicism of demeanor could not -quite conceal a certain agitation—at least not -from the colonel’s shrewd eye, used to catch the -moods of his soldiers. He strangled a kind of -sigh. “Doesn’t like it much more than I,” thought -Rupert Winter. “This is mighty kind of you, -Haley,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sor,” answered Haley, saluting. The -colonel grinned feebly. Haley, busy repelling a -youthful porter, did not notice the grin; he strode -ahead with the colonel’s world-scarred hand-luggage, -found an empty settee beside one of the -square-tiled columns of the waiting-room and disposed -his burden on the iron-railed seat next the -corner one, which he reserved for the colonel.</p> - -<p>“The train ain’t in yet, Colonel,” said he. “I’ll -be telling you—”</p> - -<p>“No, Haley,” interrupted the colonel, whose lip -twitched a little; and he looked aside; “best say<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -good-by now; don’t wait. The fact is, I’m thinking -of too many things you and I have gone -through together.” He held out his hand; Haley, -with a stony expression, gazed past it and saluted, -while he repeated: “Yes, sor; I’ll be back to take -the bags whin the train’s made up.” Whereupon -he wheeled and made off with speed.</p> - -<p>“Just the same damned obstinate way he’s always -had,” chuckled the colonel to himself. -Nevertheless, something ached in his throat as he -frowned and winked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, get a brace on you, you played-out old -sport!” he muttered. “The game’s on the last four -cards and you haven’t established your suit; you’ll -have to sit back and watch the other fellows -play!” But his dreary thoughts persisted. Rupert -was a colonel in the regular army of the -United States. He had been brevetted a brigadier-general -after the Spanish War, and had commanded, -not only a brigade, but a division at one -critical time in the Philippines; but for reasons -probably known to the little knot of politicians -who “hung it up,” although incomprehensible to -most Americans, Congress had failed to pass the -bill giving the wearers of brevet titles the right to -keep their hard-won and empty honors; wherefore<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -General Winter had declined to Colonel -Winter.</p> - -<p>He had more substantial troubles, including a -wound which would probably make him limp -through life and possibly retire him from service -at fifty. It had given him a six months’ sick leave -(which he had not wanted), and after spending -a month on the Atlantic coast, he was going for -the spring to the Pacific. Haley, whose own term -of service had expired, had not reënlisted, but had -followed him, Mrs. Haley and the baby uncomplainingly -bringing up the rear. It was not fair -to Haley nor to Mrs. Haley, the colonel felt. He -had told Haley so; he had found a good situation -for the man, and he had added the deed for a little -house in the suburbs of Chicago.</p> - -<p>If Haley wouldn’t reënlist—there never was a -better soldier since he had downed a foolish young -hankering for wild times and whisky—if he -wouldn’t go back to the army, where he belonged, -let him settle down, take up the honest carpenter’s -trade that he had abandoned, be a good citizen -and marry little Nora to some classmate in the -high school, who might make a fortune and build -her a Colonial mansion, should the Colonial still -obtain in the twentieth century.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>The colonel had spread a grand prospect before -Haley, who listened unresponsively, a dumb pain -in his wide blue Irish eyes. The colonel hated it; -but, somehow, he hated worse the limp look of -Haley’s back as he watched it dwindle down -Michigan Avenue.</p> - -<p>However, Mrs. Haley had been more satisfactory, -if none the less bewildering. She seemed -very grateful over the house and the three hundred -dollars for its furnishing. A birthday present, -he had termed it, with a flicker of humor -because the day was his own birthday. His fiftieth -birthday it happened to be, and it occurred to him -that a man ought to do something a little notable -on such an anniversary. This rounding of the -half-century had attributes apart; it was no mere -annual birthday; it marked the last vanishing flutter -of the gilded draperies of youth; the withering -of the garlands; the fading tinkle of the light -music of hope. It should mark a man’s solid -achievements. Once, not so long ago, Winter had -believed that his fiftieth birthday would see wide -and beneficent and far-reaching results in the -province where he ruled. That dream was shattered. -He was generous of nature, and he could -have been content to behold another reap the fields<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -which he had sown and tilled; it was the harvest, -whether his or another’s, for which he worked; -but his had been the bitter office to have to stand -aside, with no right to protest, and see his work -go to waste because his successor had a feeble -brain and a pusillanimous caution in place of -his own dogged will. For all these reasons, as -well as others, the colonel found no zest in his -fiftieth birthday; and his reverie drifted dismally -from one somber reflection to another until it -brought up at the latest wound to his heart—his -favorite brother’s death.</p> - -<p>There had been three Winter brothers—Rupert, -Melville and Thomas. During the past year -both Thomas Winter and his wife had died, leaving -one child, a boy of fourteen, named Archibald -after his father’s uncle. Rupert Winter and the -boy’s great-aunt, the widow of the great-uncle for -whom he had been named, were appointed joint -guardians of the young Archie. To-night, in his -jaded mood, he was assailed by reproaches because -he had not seen more of his ward. Why, he hadn’t -so much as looked the little chap up when he -passed through Fairport—merely had sent him a -letter and some truck from the Philippines; nice -guardian <i>he</i> was! By a natural enough transition,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> -his thoughts swerved to his own brief and not altogether -happy married life. He thought of the -graves in Arizona where he had left his wife and -his two children, and his heart felt heavy. To -escape musings which grew drearier every second, -he cast his eyes about the motley crowd -shuffling over the tiled floors or resting in the -massive dark oaken seats. And it was then that -he saw Cary Mercer. At first he did not recognize -the face. He only gazed indifferently at two -well-dressed men who sat some paces away from -him in the shadow of a great tiled column similar -to his own. There was this difference, it happened: -the mission lantern with its electric bulbs -above the two men was flashing brightly, and by -some accident that above the colonel was dark. -He could see the men, himself in the shadow.</p> - -<p>The men were rather striking in appearance; -they were evidently gentlemen; the taller one was -young, well set-up, clean-shaven and quietly but -most correctly dressed. His light brown hair -showed a slight curl in its closely clipped locks; -his gray-blue eyes had long lashes of brown -darker than his hair; his teeth were very white, -and there was a dimple in his cheek, plain when -he smiled. Had his nose been straight he would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -have been as handsome as a Greek god, but the -nose was only an ordinary American nose, rather -too broad at the base; moreover, his jaw was a -little too square for classic lines. Nevertheless, he -was good to look upon, as well as strong and clean -and wholesome, and when his gray-blue eyes -strayed about the room the dimple dented his -cheek and his white teeth gleamed in a kind of -merry good-nature pleasant to see. But it was the -other man who held the colonel’s eye. This man -was double the young man’s age, or near that; he -was shorter, although still of fair stature, and -slim of build. His face was oval in contour and -delicate of feature. Although he wore no glasses, -his brow had the far pucker of a near-sighted man. -There was a mole on his cheek-bone and another -just below his ear. Both were small, rather than -large, and in no sense disfiguring; but the colonel -noted them absently, being in the habit of photographing -a man in a glance. The face had beauty, -distinction even, yet about it hung some association, -sinister as a poison label.</p> - -<p>“Now, where,” said the colonel to himself, -“<i>where</i> have I seen that man?” Almost instantly -the clue came to him. “By Jove, it’s the brother!” -he exclaimed. Three years ago, and he had almost<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -forgotten; but here was Cary Mercer—the name -came to him after a little groping—here he was -again; but who was the pleasant youngster with -him? And what were they discussing with so little -apparent and so much real earnestness?</p> - -<p>One of the colonel’s physical gifts was an extraordinary -acuteness of hearing. It passed the -mark of a faculty and became a marvel. Part of -this uncanny power was really due, not to hearing -alone, but to an alliance with another sense, -because Winter had learned the lip language in -his youth; he heard with his eyes as well as his -ears. This combination had made an unintentional -and embarrassed eavesdropper out of an -honest gentleman a number of times. To set off -such evil tricks it had saved his life once on the -plains and had rescued his whole command another -time in the Philippines. While he studied -the two faces a sentence from the younger man -gripped his attention. It was: “I don’t mind the -risk, but I hate taking such an old woman’s -money.”</p> - -<p>“She has a heap,” answered the other man -carelessly; “besides—” He added something with -averted head and in too low a voice to reach the -listener unassisted. But it was convincing, evidently,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -since the young man’s face grew both -grave and stern. He nodded, muttering: “Oh, I -understand; I wasn’t backing water; I know we -have lost the right to be squeamish. But I say, -old chap, how long since Mrs. Winter has seen -you? Would she recognize you?”</p> - -<p>The colonel, who had been about to abandon -his espionage as unbecoming a soldier and a gentleman, -stowed away all his scruples at the mention -of the name. He pricked up his ears and -sharpened his eyes, but was careful lest they -should catch his glance. The next sentence, owing -to the speaker’s position, was inaudible and invisible; -but he clearly caught the young man’s -response:</p> - -<p>“You’re sure they’ll be on this train?”</p> - -<p>And he saw the interlocutor’s head nod.</p> - -<p>“The boy’s with them?”</p> - -<p>An inaudible reply, but another nod.</p> - -<p>“And you’re sure of Miss Smith?”</p> - -<p>This time the other’s profile was toward the -listener, who heard the reply, “Plumb sure. I -wish I were as sure of some other things. Have -we settled everything? It is better not to be seen -together.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I think you’ve put me wise on the main<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -points. By the way, what <i>is</i> the penalty for kidnapping?”</p> - -<p>Again an averted head and hiatus, followed by -the younger man’s sparkling smile and exclamation: -“Wow! Riskier than foot-ball—and even -more fun!” Something further he added, but his -arms hid his mouth as he thrust them into his -greatcoat, preparing to move away. He went -alone; and the other, after a moment’s gloomy -meditation, gathered up coat and bag and followed. -During that moment of arrested decision, -however, his features had dropped into sinister -lines which the colonel remembered.</p> - -<p>“Dangerous customer, or I miss my guess,” -mused the soldier, who knew the passions of men. -“I wonder—they couldn’t mean my Aunt Rebecca? -She’s old; she has millions of money—but -she’s not on this train. And there’s no Miss -Smith in our deck. I’m so used to plotting I go -off on fake hikes! Probably I’m getting old and -dotty. Mercer, poor fellow, may have his brain -turned and be an anarchist or a bomb-thrower or -a dirty kidnapper for revenge; but that boy’s a -decent chap; I’ve licked too many second lieutenants -into shape not to know something of youngsters.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_016fp.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">“By the way what <i>is</i> the penalty for kidnapping?” Page <a href="#Page_16">16</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>He pushed the idea away; or, rather, his own -problems pushed it out of his mind, which went -back to his ward and his single living brother. -Melville had no children, only his wife’s daughters, -who were both married—Melville having -married a widow with a family, an estate and a -mind of her own. Melville was a professor in a -state university, a mild, learned man whom nature -intended for science but whom his wife was determined -to make into the president of the university.</p> - -<p>“Even money which will win,” chuckled Rupert -Winter to himself. “Millicent hasn’t much -tact; but she has the perseverance of the saints. -<i>She</i> married Mel; he doesn’t know, but she surely -did. And she bosses him now. Well, I suppose -Mel likes to be bossed; he never had any strenuous -opinions except about the canals of Mars—<i>Valgame -dios</i>!”</p> - -<p>With a gasp the colonel sprang to his feet. -There before him, in the flesh, was his sister-in-law. -Her stately figure, her Roman profile, her -gracefully gesticulating hand, which indicated the -colonel’s position to her heavily laden attendant, -a lad in blue—these he knew by heart just as he -knew that her toilet for the journey would be in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -the latest mode, and that she would have the latest -fashion of gait and mien. Millicent studied such -things.</p> - -<p>She waved her luggage into place—an excellent -place—in the same breath dismissing the porter -and instructing him when he must return. -Then, but not until then, did she turn graciously -to her brother-in-law.</p> - -<p>“I hoped that I should find you, Bertie,” she -said in a voice of such creamy richness that it was -hard to credit the speaker with only three short -trips to England. “Melville said you were to take -this train; and I was <i>so</i> delighted, <i>so</i> relieved! I -am in a most harassing predicament, my dear -Bertie.”</p> - -<p>“That’s bad,” murmured the colonel with -sympathetic solicitude: “what’s the trouble? -Couldn’t you get a section?”</p> - -<p>“I have my reservations, but I don’t know -whether I shall go to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe I’m stupid, Millicent, but I confess I -don’t know what you mean.”</p> - -<p>“Really, there’s no reason why you should, -Bertie. That’s why I was so anxious to see you—in -time, so that I might explain to you—might -put you on your guard.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>“Yes?” the colonel submitted; he never hurried -a woman.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to visit dear Amy—you remember -she was married two years ago and lives in Pasadena; -she has a dear little baby and the loveliest -home! It’s charming. And she was so delighted -with your wedding gift, it was <i>so</i> original. Amy -never did care for costly things; these simple, -unique gifts always pleased her. Of course, my -main object is to see the dear child, but I shall not -go to-night <i>unless</i> Aunt Rebecca Winter is on the -train. If for any reason she waits over until to-morrow -I shall wait also.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” sighed the colonel very softly, not stirring -a muscle of his politely attentive face; “and -does Aunt Rebecca expect to go on the train?”</p> - -<p>“They told me at the Pullman office that she -had the drawing-room, the state-room and two -sections. Of course, she has her maid with her -and Archie—”</p> - -<p>“Does <i>he</i> go, too?” the colonel asked, his eyes -narrowing a little.</p> - -<p>“Yes, she’s taking him to California; he doesn’t -seem well enough, she thinks, to go to school, so -he is to have a tutor out there. I’m a little afraid -Aunt Rebecca mollycoddles the boy.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>“Aunt Rebecca never struck me as a molly-coddler. -I always considered her a tolerably -cynical old Spartan. But do you mean there is -any doubt of their going? Awfully good of you -to wait to see if they don’t go, but I’m sure Aunt -Rebecca wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your section—”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Melville lifted a shapely hand in a Delsartian -gesture of arrest; her smiling words were -the last the colonel had expected. “Hush, dear -Bertie; Aunt Rebecca doesn’t <i>know</i> I am going. -I don’t want her to know until we are on the -train.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I see, a surprise?” But he did <i>not</i> see; -and, with a quiet intentness, he watched the color -raddle Mrs. Melville’s smooth cheeks.</p> - -<p>“Hardly,” returned the lady. “The truth is, -Bertie, Melville and I are worried about Aunt Rebecca. -She, we fear, has fallen under the influence -of a most plausible adventuress; I suppose -you have heard of her companion, Miss Smith?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t say I have exactly,” said the colonel -placidly, but his eyes narrowed again. “Who is -the lady?”</p> - -<p>“I thought—I am <i>sure</i> Melville must have -written you. But— Oh, yes, he wrote yesterday<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -to Boston. Well, Bertie, Miss Smith is a Southerner; -she says she is a South Carolinian, but -Aunt Rebecca picked her up in Washington, -where she was with a kind of cousin of ours who -was half crazy. Miss Smith took care of her and -she died”—she fixed a darkling eye on the soldier—“she -<i>died</i> and she left Miss Smith money.”</p> - -<p>“Much?”</p> - -<p>“A few thousands. That is how Aunt Rebecca -met her, and she pulled the wool over auntie’s -eyes, and they came back together. She’s awfully -clever.”</p> - -<p>“Young? Pretty?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear, no. And she’s nearer forty than -thirty. Just the designing age for a woman when -she’s still wanting to marry some one but beginning -to be afraid that she can’t. Then such creatures -always try to get <i>money</i>. If they can’t -marry it, and there’s no man to set their caps for, -they try to wheedle it out of some poor fool -woman!” Millicent was in earnest, there was no -doubt of that; the sure sign was her unconscious -return to the direct expressions of her early life -in the Middle West.</p> - -<p>“And you think Miss Smith is trying to influence -Aunt Rebecca?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>“Of course she is; and Aunt Rebecca is eighty, -Rupert. And often while people of her age show -no other sign of weakening intellect, they are not -well regulated in their affections; they take fancies -to people and get doting and clinging. She is -getting to depend on Miss Smith. Really, that -woman has more influence with her than all the -rest of us together. She won’t hear a word against -her. Why! when I tried to suggest how little we -knew about Miss Smith and that it would be better -not to trust her <i>too</i> entirely, she positively <i>resented</i> -it. Of course I used tact, too. I was so -hurt, so surprised!” Mrs. Millicent was plainly -aggrieved.</p> - -<p>The colonel, who had his own opinion of the -tact of his brother’s wife, was not so surprised; -but he made an inarticulate sound which might -pass for sympathy.</p> - -<p>“We’ve been worried a good deal,” pursued -Mrs. Melville, “about the way Aunt Rebecca has -acted. She wouldn’t stay in Fairport, where we -could have some influence over her. She was -always going south or going to the sea-shore or going -<i>somewhere</i>. Sometimes I suspect Miss Smith -made her, to keep her away from <i>us</i>, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Well, as long as I have known Aunt Rebecca—anyhow,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -ever since Uncle Archibald died—she -has been restless and flying about.”</p> - -<p>“Not as she is now. And then she only had her -maid—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, Randall; she’s faithful as they make -’em. What does <i>she</i> say about Miss Smith?”</p> - -<p>“Bertie, she’s won over Randall. Randall -swears by her. Oh, she’s <i>deep</i>!”</p> - -<p>“Seems to be. But—excuse me—what’s your -game, Millicent? How do you mean to protect -our aged kinswoman and, incidentally, of course, -the Winter fortune?”</p> - -<p>“I shall watch, Bertie; I shall be on my guard -every waking hour. That deluded old woman is -in more danger, perhaps, than you dream.”</p> - -<p>“As how?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Smith”—her voice sank portentously—“<i>was -a trained nurse</i>.”</p> - -<p>“What harm does that do—unless you think -she would know too much about poisons?” The -colonel laughed.</p> - -<p>“It’s no laughing matter, Bertie. Rebecca is so -rich and this other woman is so poor, and, in my -estimation, so ambitious. I make no insinuations, -I only say she needs watching.”</p> - -<p>“You may be right about that,” said the colonel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -thoughtfully. “There is Haley and the boy for -your bags!”</p> - -<p>The boy picked up the big dress-suit case, the -smaller dress-suit case and the hat case, he -grabbed the bundle of cloaks, the case of umbrellas, -and the lizard-skin bag. Dubiously he -eyed the colonel’s luggage, as he tried to disengage -a finger.</p> - -<p>“Niver moind, young feller,” called Haley, peremptorily -whisking away the nearest piece, “I’ll -help you a bit with yours, instead; you’ve a load, -sure!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Melville explained in an undertone: “I -take all the hand-luggage I possibly can; the over-weight -charges are wicked!”</p> - -<p>“Haley, they won’t let you inside without a -ticket,” objected the colonel. But Haley, unheeding, -strode on ahead of the staggering youth.</p> - -<p>“I have an English bath-tub, locked, of course, -and packed with things, but he has put <i>that</i> in the -car,” said Mrs. Melville.</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” said the colonel absently; he was -thinking: Mrs. Winter, the boy, Miss Smith—how -ridiculously complete! Decidedly <i>something</i> -will bear watching.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II<br /> - -<small>AUNT REBECCA</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>No sooner was Mrs. Melville ushered into her -section than the colonel went through the train. -He was not so suspicious as he told himself he -might have been, with such a dovetailing of circumstances -into his accidentally captured information; -he couldn’t yet read villainy on that college -lad’s frank face. But no reason, therefore, to neglect -precautions. “Hope the best of men and prepare -for the worst,” was the old campaigner’s -motto.</p> - -<p>A walk through the cars showed him no signs -of the two men. It was a tolerably complete inspection, -too. There was only one drawing-room -or state-room of which he did not manage to get -a glimpse—the closed room being the property of -a very great financial magnate, whose private car -was waiting for him in Denver. His door was -fast, and the click of the type-writer announced -the tireless industry of our rulers.</p> - -<p>But if he did not find the college boy or the man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -with the moles he did get a surprise for his walk; -namely, the sight of the family of Haley, and -Haley himself beside their trig, battered luggage, -in a section of the car next his own. Mrs. -Haley turned a guilty red, while Haley essayed a -stolid demeanor.</p> - -<p>“What does this mean?” demanded the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Haley felt he would <i>have</i> to go with you, Colonel,” -replied Mrs. Haley, who had timid, wide, -blue eyes and the voice of a bird, but a courage -under her panic, as birds have, too, when their -nests are in peril. “We’ve rinted the house to a -good man with grown-up children, and Haley can -get a job if you won’t want him.”</p> - -<p>“Yis, sor,” mumbled Haley. He was standing -at attention, as was his wife, the toddling Nora -being held in the posture of respect on the plush -seat.</p> - -<p>“And I suppose you took the furniture money -to buy tickets?”</p> - -<p>“Yis, sor.”</p> - -<p>“And you’re bound to go with me?”</p> - -<p>“Yis, sor,” said Haley.</p> - -<p>“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sergeant,” -said the colonel; but he was glad at the -heart of him for this mutinous loyalty.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>“Yis, sor,” said Haley.</p> - -<p>“Well, since you are here, I engage you from -to-day, you understand.”</p> - -<p>“Yis, sor,” said Haley. Mrs. Haley whimpered -a blessing; but the only change in the soldier was -that his military stolidity became natural and real -instead of forced.</p> - -<p>“Sit down on this seat over here with me and -I’ll tell you what I want. You fraud, letting me -say good-by to you—”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t want to take the liberty, sor, but you -<i>made</i> me shake hands. I was afraid you’d catch -on, sor. ’Tis a weight off me moind, sor.”</p> - -<p>“I dare say. You always have your way with -me, you old mule. Now listen; I want you to be -on the watch for two men”—thereupon the colonel -described his men, laying special stress on the -moles on the face of one, and the other’s dimple.</p> - -<p>Having set Haley his tasks, he went back to his -car in better spirits.</p> - -<p>By this time the train was moving. He had -seen his kinswoman and her party enter; and he -found the object of Mrs. Melville’s darksome -warnings sitting with a slender lad in the main -body of the car. Aunt Rebecca was in the drawing-room, -her maid with her. Mrs. Melville, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -had already revealed her presence, sat across the -aisle. She presented the colonel at once.</p> - -<p>Miss Smith did not look formidable; she looked -“nice,” thought the colonel. She was of medium -height; she was obviously plump, although well -proportioned; her presence had an effect of radiant -cleanliness, her eyes were so luminous and her -teeth so fine and her white shirt-waist so immaculate. -There was about her a certain soft illumination -of cheerfulness, and at the same time a restful -repose; she moved in a leisurely fashion and -she sat perfectly still. “I never saw any one who -looked less of an adventuress,” Winter was thinking, -as he bowed. Then swiftly his glance went -to the lad, a pale young fellow with hazel eyes and -a long slim hand which felt cold.</p> - -<p>The boy made a little inarticulate sound in his -throat and blushed when Colonel Winter addressed -him. But he looked the brighter for the -blush. It was not a plain face; rather an interesting -one in spite of its listlessness and its sickly -pallor; its oval was purely cut, the delicate mouth -was closed firmly enough, and the hazel eyes with -their long lashes would be beautiful were they not -so veiled.</p> - -<p>“He has the Winter mouth, at least,” noted the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -colonel. He felt a novel throb at his heart. Had -his own boy lived, the baby that died when it was -born, he would be only a year older than Archie. -At least, this boy was of his own blood. Without -father or mother, but <i>not</i> alone in the world; and, -if any danger menaced, not without defenders. -The depression which had enveloped him lifted -as mist before the sun, burned away by the mere -thought of possible difficulties. “We will see if -any one swindles you out of your share,” said -Rupert Winter, compressing the Winter mouth -more firmly, “or if those gentlemanly kidnappers -mean you.”</p> - -<p>His ebbing suspicion of the boy’s companion -revived; he would be on his guard, all right.</p> - -<p>“Aunt Rebecca wants to see you,” Mrs. Melville -suggested. “She is in the drawing-room with -her solitaire.”</p> - -<p>“Still playing Penelope’s Web?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she always comes back to it. But she -plays bridge, too; Rupert, I hear your game is a -wonder. Archie’s been learning, so he could play -with you.”</p> - -<p>“Good for Archie!”—he shot a glance and a -smile at the lad’s reddening face—“we’ll have a -game.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>“Lord, I wish he didn’t look quite so ladylike,” -he was grumbling within, as he dutifully made his -way to his aunt’s presence.</p> - -<p>The electric lights flooded the flimsy railway -table on which were spread rows of small-sized -cards. An elderly lady of quality was musing -over the pasteboard rows. A lady of quality—that -was distinctly the phrase to catch one’s fancy -at the first glimpse of Mrs. Winter. Not an aged -lady, either, for even at eighty that elegantly -moulded, slim figure, that abundance of silvery -hair—parted in the middle and growing thickly on -each side in nature’s own fashion, which art can -not counterfeit, as well as softly puffed and -massed above—that exquisitely colored and textured -skin, strangely smooth for her years, with -tiny wrinkles of humor, to be sure, about the eyes, -but with cheeks and skin unmarred; that fine, -firmly carved profile, those black eyebrows and -lashes and still brilliant dark eyes; most of all that -erect, alert, dainty carriage, gave no impression -of age; but they all, and their accessories of toilet -and manner, and a little prim touch of an older, -more reticent day in both dress and bearing, recalled -the last century phrase.</p> - -<p>A soft gray bunch of chinchilla fur lay where<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> -she had slipped it on her soft gray skirts; one -hand rested in the fur—her left hand—and on the -third finger were the only rings which she wore, a -band of gold, worn by sixty years, and a wonderful -ruby, wherein (at least such was Rupert’s -phantasy) a writhing flame was held captive by -its guard of diamond icicles. The same rings admired -by her nephew ever since he was a cadet—just -the same smiling, inscrutable, high-bred, unchanging -old dame!</p> - -<p>“Good evening, Aunt Rebecca; not a day -older!” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Good evening, Bertie,” returned the lady, extending -a hand over the cards; “excuse my not -rising to greet you; I might joggle the cards. Of -course I’m not a day older; I don’t dare to grow -older at my age! Sit down. I’m extremely glad -to see you; I’ve a heap to talk to you about. Do -you mind if I run this game through first?”</p> - -<p>The colonel didn’t mind. He raised the proffered -hand to his lips; such homage seemed quite -the most natural act in the world with Mrs. Winter. -And he unobtrusively edged his own lean and -wiry person into the vacant seat opposite her.</p> - -<p>“How far are you going?” said she, after a few -moves of the cards.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>“My ticket says Los Angeles; but it had to say -something, so I chose Los Angeles for luck; I’m -an irresponsible tramp now, you know; and I may -drop off almost anywhere. You are for southern -California, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Eventually; but we shall stop at San Francisco -for two or three weeks.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mind if I stop off with you? I want -to get acquainted with my ward,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“That’s a good idea, Bertie.”</p> - -<p>“He seems rather out of sorts; you aren’t worried -about—well, tuberculosis or that sort of -thing?”</p> - -<p>“I am worried about just that sort of thing; -although the doctor says nothing organic at all is -the matter with him; but he is too melancholy for -a boy; he needs rousing; losing his father and -mother in one year, you know, and he was devoted -to them. I can’t quite make him out, Bertie; he -hasn’t the Winter temperament. I suppose he has -a legal right to his mother’s nature; but it is very -annoying. It makes him so much harder to understand—not -that she wasn’t a good woman who -made Tom happy; but she wasn’t a Winter. -However, Janet has brightened him up considerably—you’ve<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -seen Janet—Miss Smith? What do -you think of her?”</p> - -<p>Winter said honestly that she was very nice-looking -and that she looked right capable; he fell -into the idiom of his youth sometimes when with -a Southerner.</p> - -<p>“She is,” said Aunt Rebecca.</p> - -<p>“Where did you find her?” asked the colonel -carelessly, inspecting the cards.</p> - -<p>Aunt Rebecca smiled. “I thought Millicent -would have given you all the particulars. She was -nurse, secretary, companion and diet cook to -Cousin Angela Nelson; when <i>she</i> died I got her. -Lucky for me.”</p> - -<p>“So I should judge,” commented the colonel -politely.</p> - -<p>“I presume Millicent has told you that she is an -adventuress and after my money and a heap more -stuff. If she hasn’t she will. Get a notion once in -Millicent’s head and a surgical operation is necessary -to dislodge it! Janet is the only mortal person -who could live with poor Cousin Angela, who -had enough real diseases to kill her and enough -imaginary ones to kill anybody who lived with -her! Janet made her comfortable, would not -stand everything on earth from her—though she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -did stand a heap—and really cared for her. When -she died Cousin Angela left her some money; not -very much, but a few thousands. She would have -left her more, but Janet wouldn’t let her. She left -some to some old servants, who surely deserved it -for living with <i>her</i>, some to charities and the rest -to her sisters, who hadn’t put a foot inside the -house for fifteen years, but naturally resented her -not giving them everything. I reckon they filled -Millicent up with their notions.” She pushed the -outspread cards together.</p> - -<p>“You had several moves left,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Four. But then, I was finished. Bertie, you -play bridge, of course; and I used to hear of your -whist triumphs; how did you happen to take to -whist?”</p> - -<p>“To fill up the time, I reckon. I began it years -ago. Now a soldier’s life is a great deal more -varied, because a man will be shifted around and -get a show of the different kinds of service. And -there are the exams, and the Philippines—oh, -plenty of diversions. But in the old days a man in -the line was billed for an awfully stupid time. I -didn’t care to take to drink; and I couldn’t read as -you do if I’d had books, which I hadn’t, so I took -to playing cards. I played skat and poker and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -whist, and of late years I’ve played bridge. Millicent -plays?”</p> - -<p>“Millicent is a celebrated player. She was a -great duplicate-whist player, you know. To see -Millicent in her glory, one should play duplicate -with her. I’m only a chump player; my sole object -is to win tricks.”</p> - -<p>“What else should it be?”</p> - -<p>Aunt Rebecca smiled upon him. “To give information -to your partner. The main object of -the celebrated American-leads system is signaling -information to your partner. Incidentally, one -tells the adversaries, as well as one’s partner, -which, however, doesn’t count really as much as -you might think; for most people don’t notice -what their partners play <i>very</i> much, and don’t -notice what their adversaries play at all. Millicent -is always so busy indicating things to her partner -and watching for his signals and his indications -that you can run a cross ruff in on her without her -suspecting. She asked me once if she didn’t play -an intelligible game, and I told her she did; a babe -in arms could understand it. She didn’t seem -quite pleased.”</p> - -<p>“How about Archie? Can he play a good -game?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>“Very fair for a boy of fourteen; he was fond -of whist until his troubles came,” said Mrs. Winter, -with a faint clouding of her keen gaze. -“Since then he hasn’t taken much interest in anything. -Janet has brightened him up more than -any one; and when he heard you were coming -that did rouse him. You are one of his heroes. -He’s that sort of a boy,” she added, with a tinge -of impatience in her soft Southern voice. As if -to divert her thoughts, she began deftly moving -the cards before her. Her hands showed the blue -veins more prominently than they show in young -hands. This was their only surrender to time; -they were shapely and white, and the slim fingers -were as straight as when the beaux of Fairfax -County would have ridden all day for a chance to -kiss them.</p> - -<p>The colonel watched the great ruby wink and -glow. The ruby was a part of his memories of -his aunt; she had always worn it. He remembered -it, when she used to come and visit him at -the hotel at West Point, dazzling impartially officers, -professors, cadets and hotel waiters. Was -that almost forty years ago? Well, thirty-four, -anyhow! She had been very good, very generous -to all the young Winters, then. Indeed, although<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -she never quite forgave him for not marrying the -wife of her selecting, she had always been kind -and generous to Rupert; yet, somehow, while he -had admired and found a humorous joy in his -Aunt Rebecca, he wondered if he had ever loved -her. She was both beautiful and brilliant when -she was young, a Southern belle, a Northern society -leader; her life was full of conquests; her -footsteps, which had wandered over the world, -had left a phosphorescent wake of admiration. -She had always been a personage. She was a -power in Washington after the war; they had -found her uniquely delightful in royal courts long -before Americans were the fashion; she had been -of importance in New York, and they had loved -her epigrams in Boston; now, in her old age, she -held a veritable little court of her own in the provincial -Western city which had been her husband’s -home. He went to Congress from Fairport; -he had made a fortune there, and when he -died, many years ago, in Egypt, back to his Western -home, with dogged determination and lavish -expenditures of both money and wit, his widow -had brought him to rest. The most intense and -solemn experience of a woman she had missed, -for no children had come to them, but her husband<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -had been her lover so long as he lived, and -she had loved him. She had known great men; -she had lived through wonderful events; and -often her hand had been on those secret levers -which move vast forces. She had been in tragedies, -if an inviolable coolness of head, perhaps of -heart, had shielded her from being of them. The -husband of her youth, the nearest of her blood, the -friends of her middle life—all had gone into the -dark; yet here she sat, with her smooth skin and -her still lustrous eyes and her fragrant hands, -keenly smiling over her solitaire. The colonel -wondered if he could ever reconcile himself with -such philosophy to his own narrowed and emptied -life; she was older than he, yet she could still -find a zest in existence. All the great passions -gone; all the big interests; and still her clever -mind was working, happy, possibly, in its mere -exercise, disdaining the stake, she who had had -every success. What a vitality! He looked at -her, puzzling. Her complexity bewildered him, -he not being of a complex nature himself. As he -looked, suddenly he found himself questioning -why her face, in its revival of youthful smoothness -and tint, recalled some other face, recently -studied by him—a face that had worn an absolutely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -different expression; having the same delicate -aquiline nose, the same oval contour, the -same wide brows—who? who? queried the colonel. -Then he nodded. Of course; it was the man -with the moles, the brother. He looked enough -like Mrs. Winter to be her kinsman. At once he -put his guess to the test. “Aunt Becky,” said he, -“have you any kin I don’t know about?”</p> - -<p>“I reckon not. I’m an awfully kinless old -party,” said she serenely. “I was a Winter, born -as well as married, and so you and Mel and Archie -are double kin to me. I was an only child, so I -haven’t anything closer than third or fourth -cousins, down in Virginia and Boston.”</p> - -<p>“Have you, by chance, any cousin, near or far, -named Mercer?”</p> - -<p>Resting her finger-tips on the cards, Aunt Rebecca -seemed to let her mind search amid Virginian -and Massachusetts genealogical tables. -“Why, certainly,” she answered after a pause, -“there was General Philemon Mercer—Confederate -army, you know—and his son, Sam Nelson; -Phil was my own cousin and Sam Nelson my second, -and Sam Nelson’s sons would be my third, -wouldn’t they? Phil and Sam are both dead, and -Winnie Lee, the daughter, is dead, and poor Phil—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -grandson, you know—poor boy, <i>he</i> shot -himself while at Harvard; but his brother Cary is -alive.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know him?”</p> - -<p>“Never saw him but once or twice. He has -very good manners.”</p> - -<p>“Is he rich?”</p> - -<p>“He was, but after he had spent his youth -working with incredible industry and a great deal -of ability to build up a steel business and had put -it into a little combination—not a big trust, just -a genuine corporation—some of the financial -princes wanted it for a club—to knock down bigger -game, I reckon—and proceeded to cheapen -the stock in order to control it. Cary held on desperately, -bought more than he could hold, mortgaged -everything else; but they were too big for -him to fight. It was in 1903, you know, when -they had an alleged financial panic, and scared the -banks. Cary went to the wall, and Phil with him, -and poor Phil killed himself. Afterward Cary’s -wife died; he surely did have a mean time. And, -to tell you the truth, Bertie, I think there has been -a little kink in Cary’s mind ever since.”</p> - -<p>“Did you hold any of Cary’s stock?” He was -piecing his puzzle together.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>“Yes, but my stock was all paid for, and I held -on to it; now it is over par and paying dividends. -Oh, the property was all right, had it been kept -in honest hands and run for itself. The trouble -with Cary was that in order to keep control of the -property he bought a lot of shares on margins, -and when they began to run downhill, he was -obliged to borrow money on his actual holdings -to protect his fictitious ones. The stock went so -low that he was wiped out. He wouldn’t take my -advice earlier in the game; and I knew that it -would only be losing money to lend it to him, -later—still, sometimes I have been rather sorry -I didn’t. Would I better try the spade, Bertie, or -the diamond?”</p> - -<p>The colonel advised the spade. He wondered -whether he should repeat to his aunt the few -sentences which he had overheard from Mercer -and his companion; but a belief that old age worries -easily, added to his natural man’s disinclination -to attack the feminine nerves, tipped the -scales against frankness. So, instead, he began to -talk about Archie; what was he like? was he fond -of athletics? or was he a bookish lad? Aunt Rebecca -reported that he had liked riding and golf; -but he was not very rugged, and since his father’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -death he had seemed listless to a degree. “But -he is better now,” she added with a trace of eagerness -quite foreign to her usual manner. “Janet -Smith has roused him up; and what do you suppose -she has done? But really, you are the cause.”</p> - -<p>“I?” queried the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Just you. Archie, Janet argued, is the kind of -nature that must have some one to be devoted to.”</p> - -<p>“And has he taken a fancy to her? Or to you?”</p> - -<p>Aunt Rebecca’s eyes dulled a little and her delicate -lips were twisted by a smile which had more -wistfulness than humor in it. “I’m not a lovable -person; anyhow, he does not love easily. We are -on terms of the highest respect, even admiration, -but we haven’t got so far as friendship, far less -comradeship. Janet is different. But I don’t mean -Janet; she has grown absurdly fond of him; and -I think he’s fond of her; but what she did was to -make him fond of you. You, General Rupert -Winter; why, that boy could pass an examination -on your exploits and not miss a question. Janet -and he have a scrap-book with every printed word -about you, I do believe. And she has been amazingly -shrewd. We didn’t know how to get the -youngster back to his sports while he was out of -school; and, in fact, an old woman like me is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -rather bewildered by such a young creature, anyhow; -but Janet rode with him; <i>you</i> are a remarkable -rider; I helped there, because I remembered -some anecdotes about you at West Point—”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear Aunt—”</p> - -<p>“Don’t interrupt, Bertie, it’s a distinctly American -habit. And we read in the papers that you -had learned that Japanese trick fighting—jiu-jitsu—and -were a wonder—”</p> - -<p>“I’m not, I assure you; that beast of a newspaper -man—”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, if you are not a wonder, you’ll -have to be; you can take lessons in Los Angeles; -there are quantities of Japs there. Why, even in -Chicago, Janet picked up one, and we imported -him, and Archie took lessons, and practises every -day. There’s a book in my bag, in the rack there, -a very interesting book; Janet and I have both -read it so we could talk to Archie. You would -better skim it over a little if you really aren’t an -expert, enough so you can <i>talk</i> jiu-jitsu, anyhow; -we can’t be destroying Archie’s ideals until he -gets a better appetite.”</p> - -<p>“Well, upon my word!” breathed the colonel. -“Do you expect me to be a fake hero? I never -took more than two lessons in my life. That reporter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -interviewed my teacher, who was killed in -the Japanese War, by the way; he went to the -army after my second lesson. He didn’t know any -English beyond ‘yes’ and ‘if you please’; and he -used them both on the reporter, who let his own -fancy go up like a balloon. Well, where is the -book?”</p> - -<p>He found it easily; and with a couple of volumes -of another kidney, over which he grinned.</p> - -<p>“<i>The Hound of the Baskervilles</i> and <i>The -Leavenworth Case</i>! I’ve read them, too,” he said; -“they’re great! And do you still like detective -stories? You would have made a grand sleuth -yourself, Aunt Becky.” Again he had half a mind -to speak of the occurrence at the station; again -he checked the impulse. “I remember,” he added, -“that you used to hold strenuous opinions.”</p> - -<p>“You mean my thinking that the reason crimes -escape discovery is not that criminals are so -bright, but that detectives in general are so -particularly stupid? Oh, yes, I think that still. -So does Sir Conan Doyle. And I have often -wished I could measure my own wits, once, with -a really <i>fine</i> criminal intellect. It would be worth -the risk.”</p> - -<p>“God forbid!” said the colonel hastily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>There came a tap on the door.</p> - -<p>“Millicent!” groaned Aunt Rebecca. “I know -the creaking of her stays. No, don’t stay, Bertie; -go and get Janet and a rescue bridge party as -quick as you can!”</p> - -<p>“The original and only Aunt Rebecca,” thought -the colonel at the door, smiling. But, somehow, -the handsome old dame never had seemed so -nearly human to him before.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III<br /> - -<small>THE TRAIN ROBBERS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>When the colonel awoke next morning the -train was running smoothly over the Iowa prairies, -while low hills and brick factory chimneys -announced Council Bluffs. The landscape was -wide and monotonous; a sweep of illimitable cornfields -in their winter disarray, or bleakly fresh -from the plow, all painted with a palette holding -only drabs and browns; here and there a dab of -red in a barn or of white in windmill or house; -but these livelier tints so scattered that they were -no more than pin spots on the picture. The very -sky was as dimly colored as the earth, lighter, -yet of no brighter hue than the fog which smoked -up from the ground. Later in the spring this same -landscape would be of a delicate and charming -beauty; in summer or autumn it would make the -beholder’s pulses throb with its glorious fertility; -but on a blurred March morning it was as dreary -as the reveries of an aging man who has failed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>Nevertheless, Rupert Winter’s first conscious -sensation was not depression, only a little tingle -of interest and excitement, such as stings pleasantly -one who rises to a prospect of conflict in -which he has the confidence of his own strength. -“By Jove!” he wondered, “whatever makes me -feel so kiddish?”</p> - -<p>His first impulse was to peep through his curtains -into the car. It wore its early morning aspect -of muffled berths and stuffy curtains, among -which Miss Smith’s trig, carefully finished presence -in a fresh white shirt-waist, attended by the -pleasant whiffs of cologne water, gave the beholder -a certain refreshing surprise. One hand -(white and firm and beautifully cared for) held -a wicker bottle, source of the pleasant whiffs; -her sleek back braids were coiled about her comely -head, and the hair grew very prettily in a blunted -point on the creamy nape of her neck. It was -really dark brown hair, but it looked black against -the whiteness of her skin. She had very capable-looking -shoulders, the colonel noted, and a flat -back; perhaps she wasn’t pretty, but in a long -while he had not seen a more attractive-looking -woman. She made him think of a Bonne Celine -rose, somehow. He could hear her talking to some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -one behind the berth’s curtains. Could those doleful -moans emerge from Archie? Could a Winter -boy be whimpering about the jar of the train in -that fashion? Immediately he was aware that the -sufferer was Randall, for Miss Smith spoke: -“Drink the tea, and lie down again, I’ll attend to -Mrs. Winter. Don’t you worry!”</p> - -<p>“Getting solid with Randall,” commented the -colonel. “Which is she—kind-hearted, or an accomplished -villainess? Well, it’s interesting, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>By the time he had made his toilet the train -was slacking speed ready to halt in Council -Bluffs, and all his suspicions rushed on deck -again at the sight of Miss Smith and Archie -walking outside.</p> - -<p>He joined them, and he had to admit that Miss -Smith looked as pleased as Archie at his appearance. -Nor did she send a single furtive glance, -slanting or backward, while they walked in the -crisp, clean air. Once the train had started and -Miss Smith was in the drawing-room, breakfasting -with Mrs. Winter and Archie, he politely attended -Mrs. Millicent through the morning meal -in the dining-car. It was so good a meal that he -naturally, although illogically, thought better of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -Miss Smith’s prospects of innocence; and cheerily -he sought Haley. He found him in the smoking -compartment of the observation-car, having for -companions no less personages than the magnate -and a distinguished-looking New Englander, who, -Rupert Winter made no doubt, was a Harvard -professor of rank and renown among his learned -kind. He knew the earmarks of the species. The -New Englander’s pencil was flying over a little -improvised pad of telegraph blanks, while he -listened with absorbed interest to Haley’s rich -Irish tones. There was a little sidewise lunge of -Haley’s mouth, a faint twinkle of Haley’s frank -and simple eyes which the colonel appraised at -very nearly their real value. He knew that it -isn’t in Irish-American nature to perceive a wide-open -ear and not put something worth hearing -into it. Besides, his sharp ears had brought -him a key to the discourse, a sorrowful remark of -the sergeant’s as he entered: “Yes, sor, thim -wather torchures is <i>terrible</i>!”</p> - -<p>He glanced suspiciously from one of Haley’s -audience to the other. The newspaper cartoonist -had pictured on all kinds of bodies of preying -creatures, whether of the earth or air, the high -brows, the round head, the delicate features, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -thin cheeks, the straight line of the mouth, and -the mild, inexpressive eyes of the man before -him. He had been extolled as a far-sighted benefactor -of the world, and execrated picturesquely -as the king of pirates who would scuttle the business -of his country without a qualm.</p> - -<p>Winter, amid his own questionings and problems, -could not help a scrutiny of a man whose -power was greater than that of medieval kings. -He sat consuming a cigarette, more between his -fingers than his lips; and glancing under drooping -eyelids from questioner to narrator. At the -colonel’s entrance he looked up, as did Haley, -who rose to his feet with an unconscious salute. -“I’d be glad to spake wid youse a minnit, if I -might, General,” said Haley, “about where I put -your dress-shute case, sor.”</p> - -<p>The colonel, of course, did not expect any remarks -about a suit case when he got Haley by -himself at the observation end of the car; but -what he did get was of sufficient import to drive -out of his mind a curt lecture about blackening the -reputation of the army with lies about the Philippines. -Haley had told him that he had seen the -man with the two moles on his face jump out of -his own car at Council Bluffs. He had simply<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -stood on the platform, looking to right and left -for a moment; then he had swung himself back -on the car. Haley had watched him walk down -the aisle and enter the drawing-room. He did -not come out; Haley had found out that the drawing-room -belonged to Edwin S. Keatcham, “the -big railroad man, sor.”</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t seem likely that <i>he</i> would be an accomplice -of a kidnapper,” mused the colonel. -“The man might have gone in there while he was -out.”</p> - -<p>“Sure, he might, sor; ’twas mesilf thinking that -same; and I wint beyant to the observation-car, -and there the ould gintleman was smoking.”</p> - -<p>“And you stopped to tell yarns to that other -gentleman instead of getting back and following—”</p> - -<p>“No, sor, I beg your pardon, sor; I was kaping -me eyes open and on him; for himsilf was in the -observation-car where you are now, sor, until we -come in, and thin he walked back, careless like, to -his own car. Will I be afther following him?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; don’t lose him.”</p> - -<p>They did not lose him; they both saw him enter -the drawing-room and almost immediately come -out and sit down in one of the open sections.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>“See if you can’t find out from the conductor -where he is going,” the colonel proposed to Haley; -and he frowned over his thoughts for a bad -quarter of an hour at the window. The precipitate -of all this mental ferment was a determination -to stick close to the boy, saying nothing. -He hoped that when they stopped over night at -Salt Lake City, according to Aunt Rebecca’s plan, -they might shake off the “brother’s” company. -The day passed uneventfully. He played bridge -with Mrs. Millicent and Miss Smith and Archie, -while Aunt Rebecca kept up her French with one -of Bentzon’s novels.</p> - -<p>Afterward she said grimly to him: “I think -you must have been converted out in the Philippines; -you never so much as winced, that last -hand; no, you sat there smiling over your ruin -as sweetly as if you enjoyed it.”</p> - -<p>The colonel smiled again. “Ah, but, you see, -I did enjoy it; didn’t you notice the hand? No? -Well, it was worth watching. It was the rubber -game; they were twenty-four and we were twenty-six -and we were on the seventh round; Miss -Smith had made it hearts. She sat on my left, -dummy on my right. Millicent had the lead. She -had four little spades, a little club, the queen of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> -hearts and a trey; dummy had the queen, the ten -and the nine of spades, it had the king of hearts -and three clubs with the jack at the top. I had -a lovely diamond suit which I hadn’t had a chance -to touch, top sequence, ace, king, queen; I had -the jack of trumps and the jack of spades; and -the queen and a little club. I hadn’t a lead, you -understand; Millicent had taken five tricks and -they had taken one; they needed six to win the -game, we needed two; see? Well, Millicent hadn’t -any diamonds to lead me, and unhappily she didn’t -think to lead trumps through dummy, which -would have made a world of difference. She led -a club; dummy put on the jack. I knew Miss -Smith had the ace and one low heart; no clubs, -a lot of low diamonds, and she might or might -not have a spade. I figured that she had the ace -and a little one; if she would trump in with the -little one, as ninety-nine out of a hundred women -would have done, her ace and her partner’s king -would fall together; or, at worst, he would have -to trump her diamond lead, after she had led out -her king of spades, and lead spades, which I could -trump and bring in all my diamonds. Do you take -in the situation?”</p> - -<p>“You mean that Janet had the king of spades<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -alone, the ace and the little trump and four worthless -diamonds? I see. It is a chance for the grand -<i>coup</i>; I reckon she played it.”</p> - -<p>“She <i>did</i>!” cried the colonel with unction. -“She slapped that ace on the trick, she modestly -led her king of spades, gathered in my jack, then -‘she stole, she stole my child away,’ my little jack -of trumps; it fell on dummy’s king, and dummy -led out his spades and I had to see that whole -diamond suit slaughtered. They made their six -tricks, the game and the rubber; and I wanted to -clap my hands over the neatness of it.”</p> - -<p>“She is a good player,” agreed Aunt Rebecca, -“and a very pleasant person. You remember the -epitaph, don’t you, Bertie? ‘She was so pleasant.’ -Yet Janet has had a heap of trouble; but, after -all, happiness is not a condition but a temperament; -I suppose Janet has the temperament. She’s -a good loser, too; and she never takes advantage -of the rules.”</p> - -<p>“She certainly loves a straight game,” reflected -the colonel. “I confess I don’t like the kind of -woman that is always grabbing a trick if some -one plays out of the wrong hand.”</p> - -<p>He said something of the kind to Millicent, -obtaining but scant sympathy in that quarter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>“She’s deep, Bertie; I told you that,” was the -only reply, “but I’m watching. I have reason for -my feeling.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe you have been misinformed,” ventured -her brother-in-law with proper meekness.</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” retorted she sharply. “I happen -to know that she worked against me with the -Daughters.”</p> - -<p>“Daughters,” the colonel repeated inanely, -“your daughters?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly not! The Daughters of the Revolution.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a mighty fine society, that; did a lot during -the Spanish War. And you are the state -president, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“No, Rupert,” returned Mrs. Melville with -dignity, “I am no longer state regent. By methods -that would shame the most hardened men politicians -I was defeated; why! didn’t you read about -it?”</p> - -<p>“You know I only came back from the Philippines -in February.”</p> - -<p>“It was in all the Chicago papers. I was interviewed -myself. I assure you the other candidates -(there were two) tried the very <i>lowest</i> -political methods. Melville said it was scandalous.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -There were at least three luncheons given against -me. It wasn’t the congress, it was the lobby -defeated me. And their methods! I would not -believe that gentlewoman could stoop to such infamy -of misrepresentation.” The colonel chewed -his mustache; he felt for that reporter of the -Chicago paper; he was evidently getting a phonographic -record now; he made an inarticulate -rumble of sympathy in his throat which was as -the clucking of the driver to the mettled horse. -Mrs. Melville gesticulated with Delsartian grace, -as she poured forth her woes.</p> - -<p>“They accused me of a domineering spirit; -they said I was trying to set up a machine. <i>I!</i> -I worked for them, many a time, half the night, -at my desk; never was a letter unanswered; I did -half the work of the corresponding secretary; yet -at the crucial moment <i>she betrayed me</i>! I learned -more in those two days of the petty jealousy, the -pitiless malevolence of <i>some</i> women than I had -known all my life before; but at the same time, -to the faithful band of friends”—the colonel had -the sensation of listening to the record again—“whose -fidelity was proof against ridicule and -cruel misrepresentation, I return a gratitude that -will never wane. Rupert”—she turned herself in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -the seat and waved the open palm of her hand in -a graceful and dramatic gesture, “—those women -not only stooped to malignant falsehoods, they -not only trampled parliamentary law underfoot, -but they circulated through the hall a cartoon -called the <i>Making of the Slate</i>. Of course, we -had our quarters at a hotel, and after the evening -meeting, after I had retired, in fact, a bell-boy -brought me a message; it was necessary to -have a meeting at once, to decide for the secretaryship, -as we had found out Mrs. Ellennere -was false. The ladies in the adjoining rooms and -the others of us on the board who were loyal came -into my chamber. Rupert, will you believe it, -those women, had a grotesque picture of <i>us</i>, with -faces cut out of the newspapers—of course, all our -pictures were in the papers—and they had the -audacity and the meanness to picture me in—in -the garments of night!”</p> - -<p>“That was pretty tough. But where does Miss -Smith come in?”</p> - -<p>“She was at the convention. She is a Daughter. -I’ve always said we are too lax in our admissions.”</p> - -<p>“Who drew the picture?”</p> - -<p>“It may not be Miss Smith, but—she does<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -draw. I’m <i>sure</i> that she worked against me; she -covered up her footprints so that I have no proof; -but I suspect her. She’s deep, Bertie, she’s deep. -But she can’t hoodwink <i>me</i>. I’ll find her out.”</p> - -<p>The colonel experienced the embarrassment -that is the portion of a rash man trying to defend -one woman against another; he retreated because -he perceived defense was in vain; but he did not -feel his growing opinion of Miss Smith’s innocence -menaced by Mrs. Melville’s convictions.</p> - -<p>She played too square a game for a kidnapper—and -Smith was the commonest of names. No, -there must be some explanation; Rupert Winter -had lived too long not to distrust the plausible -surface clue. “It is the improbable that always -happens, and the impossible most of the time,” -Aunt Rebecca had said once. He quite agreed -with her whimsical phrase.</p> - -<p>Nothing happened to arouse his suspicions that -day. Haley reported that Cary Mercer was going -on to San Francisco. The conductor did not -know his name; he seemed to know Mr. Keatcham -and was with him in his drawing-room most of -the time. Had the great man a secretary with -him? Yes, he seemed to have, a little fellow who -had not much to say for himself, and jumped<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -whenever his boss spoke to him. There was also -a valet, an Englishman, who did not respond -properly to conversational overtures. They were -all going to get off at Denver.</p> - -<p>Haley was not misinformed, as the colonel -perceived with his own eyes—and he saw Cary -Mercer bow in parting to the great man, who -requited the low salute with a gruff nod. Here -was an opportunity for a nearer glimpse of Mercer, -possibly for that explanation in which Winter -still had a lurking hope. He caught Mercer just -in the car doorway, and politely greeted him: -“Mr. Mercer, I think? You may not remember -me, Colonel Winter. I met you in Cambridge, -three years ago—”</p> - -<p>It seemed a brutal thing to do, to recall a meeting -under such circumstances; but if Mercer could -give the explanation he would excuse him; it was -better than suspecting an innocent man. But -there was no opportunity for explanation. Mercer -turned a blank and coldly suspicious face -toward him. “I beg pahdon,” he said in his Southern -way, “I think you have made a mistake in -the person.”</p> - -<p>“And are you <i>not</i> Mr. Cary Mercer?” The -colonel felt the disagreeable resemblance of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -own speeches to those made in newspaper stories -by the gentleman who wishes his old friend to -change a fifty-dollar bill or to engage in an amusing -game with a thimble. Mercer saw it as well -as he. “Try some one from the country,” he remarked -with an unpleasant smile, brushing past, -while the color mounted to the colonel’s tanned -cheek. “The <i>next</i> time you meet me,” Rupert -Winter vowed, “you’ll know me.”</p> - -<p>A new porter had come on at Denver; a light -brown, chubby, bald man with a face that radiated -friendliness. He was filled with the desire for -conversation, and he had worked on the road for -eight years, hence could supplement <i>Over the -Range</i> and the other guide-books with personal -gossip. He showed marked deference to the -colonel, which that unassuming and direct man -could not quite fathom, until Archie enlightened -him. Archie smiled, a queer, chewed-up smile -which the colonel hailed with:</p> - -<p>“Why are you making fun of me, young -man?”</p> - -<p>“It’s Lewis, the porter; he follows you round -and listens to you in such an awestruck way.”</p> - -<p>“But why?”</p> - -<p>“Why, Sergeant Haley told him about you;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> -and I told him a <i>little</i>, and he says he wishes -you’d been on the train when they had the hold-ups. -This is an awful road for hold-ups, he says. -He’s been at five hold-ups.”</p> - -<p>“And what does he advise?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he says, hold up your hands and they -won’t hurt you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I reckon his advice is sound,” laughed -the colonel. “See you follow it, Archie.”</p> - -<p>“Shall <i>you</i> hold up your hands, Uncle Bertie?” -asked Archie.</p> - -<p>“Much the wisest course; these fellows shoot.”</p> - -<p>Archie looked disappointed. “I suppose so,” -he sighed. “I’m afraid I’d want to, if they were -pointing pistols at me. Lewis was on the train -once when a man showed fight. He wouldn’t put -up his hands, and the bandit plugged him, like a -flash; he fell crosswise over the seat and the blood -spurted across Lewis’ wrist; he said it was like a -hot jet of water.”</p> - -<p>The homely and bizarre horror of the picture -had evidently struck home to Archie; he half -shivered.</p> - -<p>“Too much imagination,” grumbled the colonel -to himself. “A Winter ought to take to fighting -like a duck to water!” He betook himself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -to Miss Smith; and he was uneasily conscious -that he was going to her for consoling. But he -felt better after a little talk about Archie with -her. Plainly she thought Archie had plenty of -spirit; although, of course, he hadn’t told her -about the bandits. The negro was “kidding” the -passengers; and women shouldn’t be disturbed by -such nonsense. The colonel had old-fashioned -views of guarding his womankind from the harsh -ways of the world. Curious, he reflected, what -sense Miss Smith seemed to have; and how she -understood things. He felt better acquainted with -her than a year’s garrison intercourse would have -made him with any other woman he knew.</p> - -<p>That afternoon, they two sat watching the -fantastic cliffs which took grotesque semblance -of ruined castles crowning their barren hillsides; -or of deserted amphitheaters left by some vanished -race to crumble. They had talked of many -things. She had told him of the sleepy old South -Carolinian town where she was born, and the plantation -and the distant cousin who was like her -mother, and the hospital where she had been -taught, and the married sister who had died. -Such a narrow, laborious, innocent existence as -she described! How cheerfully, too, she had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -shouldered her burdens! They talked of the -South and of the Philippines; a little they talked -of Archie and his sorrow and of the eternal -problems that have troubled the soul of man since -first death entered the world. As they talked, the -colonel’s suspicions faded into grotesque shadows. -“Millicent is ridiculous,” quoth he. Then he fell -to wondering whether there had been a romance -in Miss Smith’s past life. “Such a handsome -woman would look high,” he sighed. Only twenty-four -hours ago he had called Miss Smith “nice-looking,” -with careless criticism. He was quite -unconscious of his change of view. That night -he felt lonely, of a sudden; the old wound in his -heart ached; his future looked as bleak as the -mountain-walled plains through which he was -speeding. After a long time the train stopped -with a jar and rattle, ending in a sudden shock. -He raised the curtain to catch the flash of the -electric lights at Glenwood. Out of the deep -defile they glittered like diamonds in a pool of -water. Why should he think of Miss Smith’s -eyes? With an impatient sigh, he pulled down -the curtain and turned over to sleep.</p> - -<p>His thoughts drifted, floated, were submerged -in a wavering procession of pictures; he was back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> -in the Philippines; they had surprised the fort; -how could that be when he was on guard? But -they were there— He sat up in his berth. Instinctively -he slipped the revolver out of his bag -and held it in one hand, as he peeped through the -crevice of the curtains. There was no motion, no -sound of moving; but heads were emerging between -the curtains in every direction; and Archie -was standing, his hands shaking above his tumbled -brown head and pale face. A man in a soft -hat held two revolvers while another man was -pounding on the drawing-room door, gruffly -commanding those inside to come out. “No, we -shall not come out,” responded Aunt Rebecca’s -composed, well-bred accents, her neat enunciation -not disturbed by a quiver. “If you want to -kill an old woman, you will have to break down -the door.”</p> - -<p>“Let them alone, Shay, it takes too long; let’s -finish here, first,” called the man with the revolver; -“they’ll come soon enough when we want -them. Here, young feller, fish out! Nobody’ll -get hurt if you keep quiet; if you don’t you’ll get -a dose like the man in number six, two years ago. -Hustle, young feller!”</p> - -<p>The colonel was eying every motion, every<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -shifting from one foot to the other. Let them once -get by Archie—</p> - -<p>The boy handed over his pocket-book.</p> - -<p>“Now your watch,” commanded the brigand; -“take it, Shay!”</p> - -<p>“Won’t you please let me keep that watch?” -faltered Archie; “that was papa’s watch.”</p> - -<p>The childish name from the tall lad made the -robber laugh. “And mama’s little pet wants to -keep it, does he? Well, he can’t. Get a move on -you!”</p> - -<p>The colonel had the sensation of an electric -shock; as the second robber grabbed at the fob -in the boy’s belt, Archie struck him with the edge -of his open hand so swiftly and so fiercely under -the jaw that he reeled back against his companion. -The colonel’s surprise did not disturb the automatic -aim of an old fighter of the plains; his revolver -barked; and he sprang out, on the man he -shot. “Get back in the berths, all of you,” he -shouted; “give me a chance to shoot!”</p> - -<p>The voice of the porter, whose hands had been -turning up the lights not quite steadily, now -pealed out with camp-meeting power, “Dat’s it; -give de colonel a chance to do some killing!”</p> - -<p>Both bandits were sprawling on the floor of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span> -the aisle, one limp and moaning; but the other -got one hand up to shoot; only to have Archie -kick the revolver out of it, while at the same instant -an umbrella handle fell with a wicked whack -on the man’s shoulder. The New England professor -was out of his berth. He had been a baseball -man in his own college days; his bat was a -frail one, but he hit with a will; and a groan told -of his success. Nevertheless, the fellow scrambled -to his feet. Mrs. Melville was also out of her -berth, thanks to which circumstance he was able -to escape; as the colonel (who had grappled with -the other man and prevented his rising) must -needs have shot through his sister-in-law to hit -the fleeing form.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_066fp.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">Miss Smith was sitting beside Archie, holding the watch. Page <a href="#Page_67">67</a></p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” demanded Mrs. Melville, -while the New Englander used an expression -which, no doubt, as a good church-member, -he regretted, later, and the colonel thundered: -“All the women back into their berths. Don’t -anybody shoot! You, professor, look after that -fellow on the floor.” He was obeyed; instinctively, -the master of the hour is obeyed. The porter -came forward and helped the New Englander -bind the prostrate outlaw, with two silk handkerchiefs -and a pair of pajamas, guard mount<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -being supplied by three men in very startling costumes; -and a kind of seraglio audience behind the -curtains of the berth being enacted by all the -women in the car, only excepting Aunt Rebecca -and Miss Smith. Aunt Rebecca, in her admirable -traveling costume of a soft gray silk wrapper, -looked as undisturbed as if midnight alarms were -an every-night feature of journeys. Miss Smith’s -black hair was loosely knotted; and her face -looked pale, while her dark eyes shone. They all -heard the colonel’s revolver; they all saw the two -men who had met him at the car door spring off -the platform into the dark. The robbers had -horses waiting. The colonel got one shot; he saw -the man fall over his horse’s neck; but the horse -galloped on; and the night, beyond the little splash -of light, swallowed them completely.</p> - -<p>After the conductor and the engineer had both -consulted him, and the express messenger had appeared, -armed to the teeth, a little too late for -the fray, but not too late for lucid argument, Winter -made his way back to the car. Miss Smith -was sitting beside Archie; she was holding the -watch, which had played so important a part in -the battle, up under the electric light to examine -an inscription. The loose black sleeves of her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -blouse fell back, revealing her arms; they were -white and softly rounded. She looked up; and the -soldier felt the sudden rush of an emotion that he -had not known for years; it caught at his throat -almost like an invisible hand.</p> - -<p>“Well, Archie,” he said foolishly, “good for -jiu-jitsu!”</p> - -<p>Archie flushed up to his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you obey orders, young man, -and hold up your hands?” said Colonel Rupert -Winter. “You’re as bad as poor Haley, who is -nearly weeping that he had no chance, but only -broke away from Mrs. Haley in time to see the -robbers make off.”</p> - -<p>“I—I did at first; but I got so mad I forgot,” -stammered Archie happily. “Afterward you were -my superior officer and I had to do what you -said.”</p> - -<p>All the while he chaffed the boy, he was watching -for that beautiful look in Janet Smith’s eyes; -and wondering when he could get her off by herself -to brag to her of the boy’s courage. When -his chance at a few words did come he chuckled: -“Regular fool Winter! I knew he would act in -just that absurd, reckless way.” Then he caught -the look he wanted; it surely was a lovely, womanly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -look; and it meant—what in thunder <i>did</i> it -mean? As he puzzled, his pulses gave the same -unaccountable, smothering leap; and he felt as the -boy of twenty had felt, coming back from his first -battle to his first love.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV<br /> - -<small>THE VANISHING OF ARCHIE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>“In my opinion,” said Aunt Rebecca, critically -eying her new drawing-room on the train to San -Francisco; “the object of our legal methods seems -to be to defend the criminal. And a very efficient -means to this end is to make it so uncomfortable -and costly and inconvenient for any witness of -a crime that he runs away rather than endure -it. Here we have had to stay over so long in Salt -Lake we nearly lost our drawing-room. But never -mind, you got your man committed. Did you find -out anything about his gang?”</p> - -<p>The colonel shook his head. “No, he’s a tough -country boy; he has the rural distrust of lawyers -and of sweat-boxes. He does absolutely nothing -but groan and swear, pretending his wound hurts -him. But I’ve a notion there are bigger people -back of him. It’s most awfully good of you, -Aunt Rebecca, to stick to me this way.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, I stick to you; I’m too old to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -fickle. Did you ever know a Winter who wouldn’t -stand by his friends? I belong to the old régime, -Bertie; we had our faults—glaring ones, I dare -say—but if we condoned sin too readily, we never -condoned meanness; such a trick as that upstart -Keatcham is doing would have been impossible to -my contemporaries. You saw the morning papers; -you know he means to eat up the Midland?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know,” mused the colonel; “and turn -Tracy, the president, down—the one who gave -him his start on his bucaneering career. Tracy -declines to be his tool, being, I understand, a -very decent sort of man, who has always run -his road for his stock-holders and not for the -stock-market. A capital crime, that, in these days. -So Keatcham has, somehow, by one trick or -another, got enough directors since Baneleigh -died to give him the control; though he couldn’t -get enough of the stock; and now he means to -grab the road to use for himself. Poor Tracy, -who loves the road as a child, they say, will have -to stand by and see it turned into a Wall Street -foot-ball; and the equipment run down as fast -as its reputation. I think I’m sorry for Tracy. Besides, -it’s a bad lookout, the power of such fellows; -men who are not captains of industry, not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -a little bit; only inspired gamblers. Yet they are -running the country. I wonder where is the class -that will save us.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. I don’t admire the present century, -Bertie. We had people of quality in my day; -we have only people of culture in this. I confess -I prefer the quality. They had robuster nerves -and really asked less of people, although they -may have appeared to ask more. <i>We</i> used to be -contented with respect from our inferiors and -courtesy from our equals—”</p> - -<p>“And what from your betters, Aunt Rebecca?” -drawled the colonel.</p> - -<p>“We had no betters, Rupert; we were the best. -I think partly it was our assurance of our position, -which nobody else doubted any more than -we, that kept us so mannerly. Nowadays, nobody -has a real position. He may have wealth -and a servile following, who expect to make something -out of him, but he hasn’t position. The -newspapers can make fun of him. The common -people watch him drive by and never think of -removing their caps. Nobody takes him seriously -except his toadies and himself. And as for the -sentiments of reverence and loyalty, very useful -sentiments in running a world, they seem to have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -clean disappeared, except”—she smiled a half-reluctant -smile—“except with youngsters like -Archie, who would find it agreeable to be chopped -into bits for <i>you</i>, and the women who have not -lived in the world, like Janet, who makes a heroine -out of <i>me</i>—upon my word, Bertie, <i>je t’ai fait -rougir</i>!”</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” said the colonel; “an illusion of -the sunset; but what do you mean when you say -people of quality required less than people of culture?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, simply this; all <i>we</i> demanded was deference; -but your cultivated gang wants admiration -and submission, and will not let us possess our -secret souls, even, in peace. And, then, the quality -despised no one, but the cultivated despise every -one. Ah, well—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">‘Those good old times are past and gone,</div> -<div class="indent">I sigh for them in vain,—’</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Janet, I wish Archie would fish his mandolin out -and you would sing to me; I like to hear the songs -of my youth. Not rag-time, or coon-songs, but -dear old Foster’s melodies; <i>Old Kentucky Home</i>, -and <i>Massa’s in the Col’, Col’ Ground</i>, and <i>Nellie -Was a Lady</i>—what makes that so sad, I wonder?—‘Nellie<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -was a lady, las’ night she died;’ it’s -all in that single line; I think it is because it -represents the pathetic idealization of love; Nellie -was that black lover’s ideal of all that was lovely, -and she was dead. Is the orchestra ready—and -the choir? Yes, shut the door; we are for art’s -sake only, not for the applause of the cold world -in the car.”</p> - -<p>Afterward, when he was angry over his own -folly, his own blind, dogged, trustfulness against -all the odds of evidence, Rupert Winter laid his -weakness to that hour; to a woman’s sweet, untrained, -tender voice singing the simple melodies -of his youth. They sang one song after another -while the sun sank lower and stained the western -sky. Through the snow-sheds they could catch -glimpses of a wild and strange nature; austere, -yet not repelling; vistas of foot-hills bathed in the -evening glow; rank on rank of firs, tall, straight, -beautiful, not wind-tortured and maimed, like the -woeful dwarfs of Colorado; and wonderful snow-capped -mountain peaks, with violet shadows and -glinting streaks of silver. Snow everywhere: on -the hillsides; on the close thatch of the firs; on the -ice-locked rivers; snow freshly fallen, softly tinted, -infinitely, awesomely pure.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>Presently they came out into a lumber country -where the mills huddled in the hollows, over the -streams. Huge fires were blazing on the river-banks. -Their tawny red glare dyed the snow for -a long distance, making entrancing tints of rose -and yellow; and the dark green of the pines, -against this background, looked strangely fresh. -And then, without warning, they plunged into -the dimness of another long wooden tunnel and -emerged into lovely spring. The trees were in -leaf, and not alone the trees; the undulating swells -of pasture land and roadside by the mountains -were covered with a tender verdure; and there -were innumerable vines and low glossy shrubs -with faintly colored flowers.</p> - -<p>“This is like the South,” said Miss Smith.</p> - -<p>Archie was devouring the scene. “Doesn’t it -just somehow make you feel as if you couldn’t -breathe, Miss Janet?” said he.</p> - -<p>“Are you troubled with the high altitude?” -asked Millicent anxiously; “I have prepared a -little vial of spirits of ammonia; I’ll fetch it for -you.”</p> - -<p>The colonel had some ado to rescue Archie; -but he was aided by the porter, who was now passing -through the car proclaiming: “You all have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> -seen Dutch Flat Mr. Bret Hahte wrote ’bout; nex’ -station is Shady Run; and eve’ybody look and -see the greates’ scenic ’traction of dis or any -odder railroad, Cape Hohn!”</p> - -<p>Instantly, Mrs. Melville fished her guide-book -and began to read:</p> - -<p>“‘There are few mountain passes more famous -than that known to the world as Cape Horn. The -approach to it is picturesque, the north fork of -the American River raging and foaming in its -rocky bed, fifteen hundred feet below and parallel -with the track—’”</p> - -<p>“Do you mind, Millicent, if we look instead -of listen?” Aunt Rebecca interrupted, and Mrs. -Melville lapsed into an injured muteness.</p> - -<p>Truly, Cape Horn has a poignant grandeur -that strikes speech from the lips. One can not -look down that sheer height to the luminous ghost -of a river below, without a thrill. If to pass along -the cliff is a shivering experience, what must the -actual execution of that stupendous bit of engineering -have been to the workmen who hewed -the road out of the rock, suspended over the -abyss! Their dangling black figures seem to -sway still as one swings around the curve.</p> - -<p>Our travelers sat in silence, until the “Cape”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -was passed and again they could see their road-bed -on the side. Then Mrs. Melville made a polite -excuse for departure; she had promised a -“Daughter” whom she had met at various “biennials” -that she would have a little talk with her. -Thus she escaped. They did not miss her. Hardly -speaking, the four sat in the dimly lighted, tiny -room, while mountains and fields and star-sown -skies drifted by. Unconsciously, Archie drew -closer to his uncle, and the older man threw an -arm about the young shoulders. He looked up to -meet Janet’s eyes shining and sweet, in the flash -of a passing station light. Mrs. Winter smiled, -her wise old smile.</p> - -<p>With the next morning came another shift of -scene; they were in the fertile valleys of California. -At every turn the landscape became more -softly tinted, more gracious. Aunt Rebecca was -in the best of humor and announced herself as -having the journey of her life. The golden green -of the grain fields, the towering palms, the pepper-trees -with their fascinating grace, the round tops -of the live-oaks, the gloss of the orange groves, -the calla-lily hedges and the heliotrope and geranium -trees which climbed to the second story of -the stucco houses, filled her with the enthusiasm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -of a child. She drank in the cries of the enterprising -young liar who cried “Fresh figs,” months -out of season, and she ate fruit, withered in cold -storage, with a trustful zest. No less than three -books about the flora of California came out of -her bag. A certain vine called the Bougainvillea, -she was trying to find, if only the cars -would not go so fast; as for poinsettias, she certainly -should raise her own for Christmas. She -was learned in gardens and she discoursed with -Miss Smith on the different kinds of trumpet-vine, -and whether the white jasmine trailing -among the gaudy clusters was of the same family -as that jasmine which they knew in the pine forests. -But she disparaged the roses; they looked -shop-worn. The colonel watched her in amazement.</p> - -<p>“Bertie, I make you think of that little dwarf -of Dickens’, don’t I?” she cried. “Miss Muffins, -Muggins? what <i>was</i> her name? You are expecting -me to exclaim, ‘Ain’t I volatile?’ Thank -Heaven, I am. I could always take an interest in -trifles. It has been my salvation to cultivate an -interest in trifles, Bertie; there are a great many -more trifles than crises in life. Where has Janet -gone? Oh, to give the porter the collodion for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> -his cut thumb. People with troubles, big or little, -are always making straight for Janet. Bertie, -have you made your mind up about her?”</p> - -<p>“Only that she is charming,” replied the colonel. -He did not change color, but he was uneasily -conscious that he winced, and that the shrewd old -critic of life and manners perceived it. But she -was mercifully blind to all appearance; she went -on with the little frown of the solver of a psychological -enigma. “Yes, Janet is charming; and -why? She is the stillest creature. Have you noticed? -Yet you never have the sense that she -hasn’t answered you. She’s the best listener in the -world; and there’s one thing about her unusual -in most listeners—her eyes never grow vacant.”</p> - -<p>Rupert had noticed; he called himself a doddering -old donkey silently, because he had assumed -that there was anything personal in the interest -of those eyes when he had spoken. Of -course not; it was her way with every one, even -Millicent, no doubt. His aunt’s next words were -lost, but a sentence caught his ear directly: “For -all she’s so gentle, she has plenty of spirit. Bertie, -did I ever tell you about the time our precious -cousin threw our great-great-grandfather’s gold -snuff-box at her? No? It was funny. She flew<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -into one of her towering rages, and shrieking, -‘Take <i>that</i>!’ hurled the snuff-box at Janet. Janet -wasn’t used to having things thrown at her. She -caught the box, then she rang the bell. ‘Thank -you very much,’ says Janet; and when old Aunt -Phrosie came, she handed the snuff-box to her, -saying it had just been given to her as a present. -But she sent it that same day to one of the sisters. -There was never anything else thrown at her, I -can tell you.”</p> - -<p>They found a wonderful sunset on the bay when -San Francisco was reached. Still in her golden -humor, as they rattled over the cobblestones of -the picturesque streets to the Palace Hotel, Mrs. -Winter told anecdotes of Robert Louis Stevenson, -obtained from a friend who had known his -mother. Mrs. Winter had chosen the Palace in -preference to the St. Francis, to Mrs. Melville’s -high disgust.</p> - -<p>“She thinks it more typical,” sneered Millicent; -“myself, I prefer cleanliness and comfort to -types.”</p> - -<p>Their rooms were waiting for them and two -bell-boys ushered Mrs. Winter into her suite. -Randall was lodged on the same floor, and Mrs. -Melville, who was to spend a few days with her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -aunt on the latter’s invitation, was on a lower -floor. The colonel had begged to have Archie -next to him; and he examined the quarters with -approbation. His own room was the last of the -suite; to the right hand, between his room and -Archie’s, was their bath; then the parlor of Mrs. -Winter’s suite next her room and bath, and last, -to the right, Miss Smith’s room.</p> - -<p>Archie was sitting by the window looking -out on the street; only the oval of his soft boyish -cheek showed. The colonel went by him to the -parlor beyond, where he encountered his aunt, -her hands full of gay postal cards.</p> - -<p>“<i>Souvenirs de voyage</i>,” she answered his -glance; “I am going to post them.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t I take them for you?”</p> - -<p>“No, thanks, I want the exercise.”</p> - -<p>“May I go with you?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, no. My dear Bertie, I’m only aged, -I’m not infirm.”</p> - -<p>“You will <i>never</i> be aged,” responded the colonel -gallantly. He turned away and walked along -the arcade which looked down into the great court -of the hotel. Millicent was approaching him; Millicent -in something of a temper. Her room was -hideously draughty and she could not get any one,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -although she had rung and telephoned to the office -and tried every device which was effectual in -a well-conducted hotel; but this, she concluded -bitterly, was not well-conducted; it was only -typical.</p> - -<p>“There’s a lovely fire in Aunt Rebecca’s parlor,” -soothed the colonel; “come in there.”</p> - -<p>Afterward it seemed to him that this whole interview -with Millicent could not have occupied -more than four minutes; that it was not more than -seven minutes since he had seen Archie’s shapely -curly head against the curtain fall of the window.</p> - -<p>But when he opened the door, Miss Smith -came toward them. “Is Archie with Aunt Rebecca?” -said she.</p> - -<p>The colonel answered that he had left him in -the parlor; perhaps he had stepped into his own -room.</p> - -<p>But neither in Archie’s nor the colonel’s nor in -any room of the party could they find the boy.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V<br /> - -<small>BLIND CLUES</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>“But this is preposterous,” cried Mrs. Melville, -“you <i>must</i> have seen him had he come out of the -room; you were directly in front of the doors all -the time.”</p> - -<p>“I was,” admitted the colonel; “can—can the -boy be hiding to scare us?” He spoke to Miss -Smith. She had grown pale; he did not know -that his own color had turned. Millicent stared -from one to the other.</p> - -<p>“How ridiculous!” she exclaimed; “of course -not; but he must be somewhere; let <i>me</i> look!”</p> - -<p>Look as they might through all the staring, -empty rooms, there was no vestige of the boy. He -was as clean vanished as if he had fallen out of -the closed and locked windows. The colonel examined -them all; had there been one open, he -would have peered outside, frightened as he had -never been when death was at his elbow. But it -certainly wasn’t possible to jump through a window, -and not only shut, but lock it after one.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>Under every bed, in every closet, he prowled; -he was searching still when Mrs. Winter returned. -By this time Mrs. Melville was agitated, -and, naturally, irritated as well. “I think it is unpardonable -in Archie to sneak out in this fashion,” -she complained.</p> - -<p>“I suppose the boy wanted to see the town a -bit,” observed Aunt Rebecca placidly. “Rupert, -come in and sit down; he will be back in a moment; -smoke a cigar, if your nerves need calming.”</p> - -<p>Rupert felt as if he were a boy of ten, called -back to common sense out of imaginary horrors -of the dark.</p> - -<p>“But, if he wanted to go out, why did he leave -his hat and coat behind him?” asked Miss Smith.</p> - -<p>“He may be only exploring the hotel,” said -Mrs. Winter. “Don’t be so restless, Bertie; sit -down.”</p> - -<p>The colonel’s eye was furtively photographing -every article of furniture in the room; it lingered -longest on Mrs. Winter’s wardrobe-trunk, which -was standing in her room. Randall had been despatched -for a hot-water bottle in lieu of one -which had sprung a leak on the train; so the trunk -stood, its door ajar.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>“Maybe he is doing the Genevra stunt in there—is -that what you are thinking?” she jeered. -“Well, go and look.”</p> - -<p>Light as her tone was, she was not unaffected -by the contagion of anxiety about her; after a moment, -while Rupert was looking at the wardrobe-trunk, -and even profanely exploring the swathed -gowns held in rigid safety by bands of rubber, -she moved about the rooms herself.</p> - -<p>“There isn’t room for a mouse in that box,” -growled the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Of course not,” said his aunt languidly, sinking -into the easiest chair; “but your mind is easier. -Archie will come back for dinner; don’t worry.”</p> - -<p>“How could he get by <i>me</i>?” retorted the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he went into one of the neighboring -rooms,” Miss Smith suggested. “Shall I go out -and rap on the door of the next room on the left?” -On the right the last room of the party was a -corner room.</p> - -<p>“Why, you <i>might</i>,” acquiesced Aunt Rebecca; -but Mrs. Melville cut the ends of her words.</p> - -<p>“Pray let me go, Aunt Rebecca,” she begged, -suiting the action to the words, and was out of -the door almost ahead of her sentence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>The others waited; they were silent; little flecks -of color raddled Mrs. Winter’s cheeks. They -could hear Millicent’s knock reverberating. There -was no answer. “Telephone to the adjacent -rooms,” proposed the colonel.</p> - -<p>“I’ll telephone,” said Mrs. Winter, and rang -up the number of the next room. There was no -response; but when she called the number of the -room adjoining, she seemed to get an answer, for -she announced her name. “Have you seen a -young lad?” she continued, after an apology for -disturbing them. “He belongs to our party; has -he by chance got into your room? and is he -there?” In a second she put down the receiver -with a heightened color, saying, “They might be -a little civiler in their answers, if it <i>is</i> Mr. Keatcham’s -suite.”</p> - -<p>“What did the beggar say?” bristled the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Only that it was Mr. Keatcham’s suite—Mr. -E. S. Keatcham—as if <i>that</i> put getting into it -quite out of the question. Some underling, I presume.”</p> - -<p>“There is the unoccupied room between. That -is not accounted for. But it shall be. I will find -out who is in there.” Rupert rose as he spoke,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -pricked by the craving for action of a man accustomed -to quick decision. He heard his aunt -brusquely repelling Millicent’s proposal of the police, -as he left the room. Indeed, she called him -back to exact a promise that he would not make -Archie’s disappearance public. “We want to find -him,” was her grim addendum; “and we can’t -have the police and the newspapers hindering us.”</p> - -<p>In the office, he found external courtesy and a -rather perfunctory sympathy, based on a suppressed, -but perfectly visible conviction that the -boy had stolen out for a glimpse of the city, and -would be back shortly.</p> - -<p>The manager had no objection to telling Colonel -Winter, whom he knew slightly, that the occupant -of the next room was a New England lady -of the highest respectability, Mrs. Winthrop -Wigglesworth. If the young fellow didn’t turn -up for dinner, he should be glad to ask Mrs. Wigglesworth -to let Mrs. Winter examine her room; -but he rather thought they would be seeing young -Winter before then—oh, his hat? They usually -carried caps in their pockets; and as to coats—boys -never thought of their coats.</p> - -<p>The manager’s cheeriness did not especially uplift -the colonel. He warmed it over dutifully,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -however, for his womankind’s benefit. Miss -Smith had gone out; why, he was not told, and -did not venture to ask. Mrs. Melville kept making -cautious signals to him behind his aunt’s back; -otherwise she was preserving the mien of sympathetic -solemnity which she was used to show at -funerals and first visits of condolence and congratulation -to divorced friends. Mrs. Winter, as -usual, wore an inscrutable composure. She was -still firmly opposed to calling in the aid of the police.</p> - -<p>Did she object to his making a few inquiries -among the hotel bell-boys, the elevator boy and -the people in the restaurant or in the office?</p> - -<p>Not at all, if he would be cautious.</p> - -<p>So he sallied out, and, in the midst of his fruitless -inquisition, Millicent appeared.</p> - -<p>Forcing a civil smile, he awaited her pleasure. -“Go on, don’t mind me,” said she mournfully; -“you will feel better to have done everything in -your power.”</p> - -<p>“But I shall not discover anything?”</p> - -<p>“I fear not. Has it not occurred to you that he -has been kidnapped?”</p> - -<p>“Hmn!” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“And did you notice how perturbed Miss Smith<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -seemed? She was quite pale; her agitation was -quite noticeable.”</p> - -<p>“She is tremendously fond of Archie.”</p> - -<p>“Or—she knows more than she will say.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, what rot!” sputtered the colonel; then he -begged her pardon.</p> - -<p>“Wait,” he counseled, and his man’s resistance -to appearances had its effect, as masculine immobility -always has, on the feminine effervescence -before him. “Wait,” was his word, “at least until -we give the boy a chance to turn up; if he has -slipped by us, he is taking a little <i>pasear</i> on his -own account; lads do get restless sometimes if -they are held too steadily in the leash, especially—if -you will excuse me—by, well, by ladies.”</p> - -<p>“If he has frightened us out of our wits—well, -I don’t know what oughtn’t to be done to him!”</p> - -<p>“Oh well, let us wait and hear <i>his</i> story,” repeated -the soldier.</p> - -<p>But the last streaks of red faded out of the -west; a chill fog smoked up from the darkening -hills, and Archie had not come. At eight, Mrs. -Winter ordered dinner to be served in their -rooms. Miss Smith had not returned. The colonel -attempted a military cheerfulness, which his -aunt told him bluntly, later in the evening, reminded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -her of a physician’s manner in critical -cases where the patient’s mind must be kept absolutely -quiet.</p> - -<p>But she ate more than he at dinner; although -her own record was not a very good one. Millicent -avowed that she was too worried to eat, but -she was tempted by the strawberries and carp, -and wondered were the California fowls really -so poor; and gave the sample the benefit of impartial -and fair examination, in the end making -a very fair meal.</p> - -<p>It is not to be supposed that Winter had been -idle; before dinner he had put a guard in the hall -and had seen Haley, who reported that his wife -and child had gone to a kinswoman in Santa Barbara.</p> - -<p>“Sure the woman has a fine house intirely, and -she’s fair crazy over the baby that’s named afther -her, for she’s a widdy woman with never a child -excipt wan that’s in hivin, a little gurrl; and she -wudn’t let us rist ’til she’d got the cratur’. Nor -I wasn’t objictin’, for I’m thinking there’ll be -something doin’ and the wimin is onconvanient, -thim times.”</p> - -<p>The colonel admitted that he shared Haley’s -opinion. He questioned the man minutely about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -Mercer’s conduct on the train. It was absolutely -commonplace. If he had any connection (as the -colonel had suspected) with the bandits, he made -no sign. He sent no telegrams; he wrote no letters; -he made no acquaintances, smoking his -solitary cigar over a newspaper. Indeed, absolutely -the only matter of note (if that were one) -was that he read so many newspapers—buying -every different journal vended. At San Francisco -he got into a cab and Haley heard him give -the order: “To the St. Francis.” Having his -wife and child with him, the sergeant couldn’t -follow; but he went around to the St. Francis -later, and inquired for Mr. Mercer, for whom he -had a letter (as was indeed the case—the colonel -having provided him with one), but no such name -appeared on the register. Invited to leave the letter -to await the gentleman’s arrival, Haley said -that he was instructed to give it to the gentleman -himself; therefore, he took it away with him. -He had carried it to all the other hotels or boarding-places -in San Francisco which he could find, -aided greatly thereto by a friend of his, formerly -in “the old —th,” a sergeant, now stationed at the -Presidio. Thanks to him, Haley could say definitely -that Mercer was not at any of the hotels<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -or more prominent boarding-houses in the city, at -least under his own name.</p> - -<p>“And you haven’t seen him since he got into -the cab at the station?” the colonel summed up.</p> - -<p>Haley’s reply was unexpected: “Yes, sor, I -seen him this day, in the marning, in this same -hotel.”</p> - -<p>“Where?”</p> - -<p>“Drinking coffee at a table in th’ coort. He -wint out, havin’ paid the man, not a-signin’, an’ -he guv the waiter enough to make him say, -‘Thank ye, sor,’ but not enough to make him -smile and stay round to pull aff the chair. I follied -him to the dure, but he got into an autymobile—”</p> - -<p>“Get the number?”</p> - -<p>“Yis, sor. Number—here ’tis, sor, I wrote it -down to make sure.” He passed over to the colonel -an old envelope on which was written a number. -<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a>“M. 20139,” read the colonel, carefully noting -down the number in his own memorandum-book. -And he reflected, “That is a Massachusetts -number—humph!”</p> - -<p>Haley’s information ended there. He heard of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -Archie’s disappearance with his usual stolid mien, -but his hands slowly clenched. The colonel continued:</p> - -<p>“You are to find out, if you can, by scraping -acquaintance with the carriage men, if that auto—you -have written a description, I see, as well -as the number—find out if that auto left this hotel -this afternoon between six and seven o’clock. -Find out who were in it. Find out where it is -kept and who owns it. Get H. Birdsall, Merchants’ -Exchange Building, to send a man to help -you. Wait, I’ve a card ready for you to give him -from me; he has sent me men before. Report by -telephone as soon as you know anything. If I’m -not here, speak Spanish and have them write it -down. Be back here to-night by ten, if you can, -yourself.”</p> - -<p>Haley dismissed, and his own appetite for dinner -effectually dispelled by his report, Winter -joined his aunt. Should he tell her his suspicions -and their ground? Wasn’t he morally obliged, -now, to tell her? She was co-guardian with him -of the boy, who, he had no doubt, had been spirited -away by Mercer and his accomplice; and -hadn’t she a right to any information on the matter -in his possession?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>Reluctantly he admitted that she did have such -a right; and, he admitted further, being a man -who never cheated at solitaire, that his object in -keeping the talk of the two men from her had -not been so much the desire to guard her nerves -(which he knew perfectly well were of a robuster -fiber than those of most women twenty or forty -years younger than she); no, he admitted it -grimly, he had not so much spared his aunt as -Janet Smith; he could not bear to direct suspicion -toward her. But how could he keep silent longer? -Kicking this question about in his mind, he -spoiled the flavor of his after-dinner cigar, although -his aunt graciously bade him smoke it in -her parlor.</p> - -<p>And still Miss Smith had not returned; really, -it was only fair to her to have her present when -he told his story to his aunt; no, he was <i>not</i> grabbing -at any excuse for delay; if he could watch -that girl’s face while he told his story he would—well, -he would have his mind settled one way or -another.</p> - -<p>Here the telephone bell rang; the manager informed -Colonel Winter that Mrs. Wigglesworth -had returned.</p> - -<p>“Wigglesworth? what an extraordinary name!”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -cried Millicent when the colonel shared his information.</p> - -<p>“Good old New England name; I know some -extremely nice Wigglesworths in Boston,” Mrs. -Winter amended with a touch of hauteur; and, at -this moment, there came a knock at the door.</p> - -<p>There is all the difference in the world between -knocks; a knock as often as not conveys a most -unintentional hint in regard to the character of -the one behind the knuckles; and often, also, the -mood of the knocker is reflected in the sound -which he makes. Were there truth in this, one -would judge that the person who knocked at this -moment must be a woman, for the knock was not -loud, but almost timidly gentle; one might even -guess that she was agitated, for the tapping was -in a hurried, uneven measure.</p> - -<p>“I believe it is Mrs. Wigglesworth herself,” declared -Aunt Rebecca. “Bertie, I’m going into the -other room; she will talk more freely to you. She -would want to spare my nerves. That is the -nuisance of being old. Now open the door.”</p> - -<p>She was half-way across the threshold before -she finished, and the colonel’s fingers on the door-knob -waited only for the closing of her door to -turn to admit the lady in waiting.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>A lady she was beyond doubt, and any one who -had traveled would have been sure that she was a -lady from Massachusetts. She wore that little -close bonnet which certain elderly Boston gentlewomen -can neither be driven nor allured to abandon; -her rich and quiet black silken gown might -have been made any year within the last five, and -her furs would have graced a princess. She had -beautiful gray hair and a soft complexion and -wore glasses. Equally evident to the observer was -the fact of her suppressed agitation.</p> - -<p>She waved aside the colonel’s proffered chair, -introducing herself in a musical, almost tremulous -voice with the crisp enunciation of her section of -the country. “I am Mrs. Wigglesworth; I understand, -Colonel Winter—you?—y-yes, no, thank -you, I will not sit. I—I understood Mrs. Winter—ah, -your aunt, is an elderly woman.”</p> - -<p>“This is my sister-in-law, Mrs. Melville Winter,” -explained the colonel. “My aunt is elderly -in years, but in nothing else.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Wigglesworth smiled a faint smile; the -colonel could see a tremble of the hand that was -unconsciously drawing her fur collar more tightly -about her throat. “How very nice—yes, to be -sure,” she faltered. “But you will understand that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> -I did not wish to alarm her. I heard that you -wanted to speak to me, and that the little boy was -lost.”</p> - -<p>“Or stolen,” Mrs. Melville said crisply.</p> - -<p>The colonel, in a few words, displayed the situation. -He had prevailed upon his visitor to sit -down, and while he spoke he noticed that her -hands held each other tightly, although she appeared -perfectly composed and did not interrupt. -She answered his questions directly and quietly. -She had been away taking tea with a friend; she -had remained to dine. Her maid had gone out -earlier to spend the day and night with a sister in -the city; so the room was empty between six and -seven o’clock.</p> - -<p>“The chambermaid wasn’t there, then?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so. She usually does the room -and brings the towels for the bath in the morning. -But I asked her, to make sure, and she says that -she was not there since morning. She seems a -good girl; I think she didn’t—but I have found -something. At least I am af—I may have found -something. I thought I might see Mrs. Winter’s -niece about it”—she glanced toward Millicent, -who said, “Certainly,” at a venture; and looked -frightened.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>“And you found—?” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Only this. I went to my rooms, turned on the -light and was taking off my gloves before I untied -my bonnet. One of my rings fell on the floor. -It went under a rug, and I at once remarked that -it was a different place for the rug to the one -where it had been before. Before, it was in front -of the dresser, a very natural place, but now it is -on the carpet to one side, a place where there -seemed no reason for its presence. These details -seem trivial, but—”</p> - -<p>“I can see they are not,” said the colonel. -“Pray proceed, Madam. The ring had rolled under -the rug!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Wigglesworth gave him a grateful nod.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it had. And when I removed the rug I -saw it; but as I bent to pick it up I saw something -else. In one place there was a stain, as large as -the palm of my hand, a little pool of—it looks -like blood.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Melville uttered an exclamation of horror.</p> - -<p>The colonel’s face stiffened; but there was no -change in his polite attention.</p> - -<p>“May we be permitted to see this—ah, stain?” -said he.</p> - -<p>The three stepped through the corridor to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> -outside door, and went into the chamber. The -rug was flung to one side, and there on the gray -velvet nap of the carpet was an irregular, sprawling -stain about which were spattered other stains, -some crimson, some almost black.</p> - -<p>Millicent recoiled, shuddering. The colonel -knelt down and examined the stains. “Yes,” he -said very quietly, “you are right, it is blood.”</p> - -<p>There was a tap on the door, which was opened -immediately without waiting for a permission. -Millicent, rigid with fright, could only stare helplessly -at the erect figure, the composed, pale face -and the brilliant, imperious eyes of her aunt.</p> - -<p>“What did you say, Bertie?” said Rebecca Winter. -“I think I have a right to the whole truth.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI<br /> - -<small>THE VOICE IN THE TELEPHONE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>“Well, Bertie?” Mrs. Winter had gone back to -her parlor in the most docile manner in the world. -Her submission struck Rupert on the heart; it was -as if she were stunned, he felt.</p> - -<p>He was sitting opposite her, his slender, rather -short figure looking shrunken in the huge, ugly, -upholstered easy-chair; he kept an almost constrained -attitude of military erectness, of which -he was conscious, himself; and at which he smiled -forlornly, recalling the same pose in Haley whenever -the sergeant was disconcerted.</p> - -<p>“But, first,” pursued his aunt, “who was that -red-headed bell-boy with whom you exchanged -signals in the hall?”</p> - -<p>The colonel suppressed a whistle. “Aunt -Becky, you’re a wonder! Did you notice? And -he simply shut the palm of his hand! Why, it’s -this way: I was convinced that Archie must be -on the premises; he <i>couldn’t</i> get off. So I telephoned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> -a detective that I know here, a private -agency, <i>not</i> the police, to send me a sure man to -watch. He is made up as a bell-boy (with the -hotel manager’s consent, of course); either I, or -Millicent, or that boy has kept an eye on the -Keatcham doors and the next room ever since I -found Archie was gone. No one has gone out -without our seeing him. If any suspicious person -goes out, we have it arranged to detain him long -enough for me to get a good look. I can tell you -exactly who left the room.”</p> - -<p>“It is you who are the wonder, Bertie,” said -Aunt Rebecca, a little wearily, but smiling. “Who -has gone out?”</p> - -<p>“At seven Mr. Keatcham’s secretary went down -to the office and ordered dinner, very carefully. -I didn’t see him, but my sleuth did. He had the -secretary and the valet of the Keatcham party -pointed out to him; he saw them. They had one -visitor, young Arnold, <i>the</i> Arnold’s son—”</p> - -<p>“The one who has all the orange groves and -railways? Yes, I knew his father.”</p> - -<p>“That one; he only came a few moments since. -Mr. Keatcham and his secretary dined together, -and Keatcham’s own man waited on them; but -the waiter for this floor brought up the dishes. At<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -nine the dishes were brought out and my man -helped Keatcham’s valet to pile them a little farther -down the corridor in the hall.”</p> - -<p>These items the colonel was reading out of his -little red book.</p> - -<p>“You have put all that down. Do you think it -means anything?”</p> - -<p>“I have put everything down. One can’t weed -until there is a crop of information, you know.”</p> - -<p>“True,” murmured Aunt Rebecca, nodding her -head thoughtfully. “Well, did anything else happen?”</p> - -<p>“The secretary posted a lot of letters in the -shute. They are all smoking now. Yes—” he -was on his feet and at the door in almost a single -motion. There had been just the slightest tattoo -on the panel. When the door was opened the -colonel could hear the rattle of the elevator. He -was too late to catch it, but he could see the inmates. -Three gentlemen stood in the car. One was -Keatcham, the other two had their backs to Winter. -One seemed to be supporting Keatcham, who -looked pale. He saw the colonel and darted at -him a single glance in which was something -like a poignant appeal; what, it was too brief for -the receiver to decide, for in the space of an eye-blink<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -a shoulder of the other man intervened, -and simultaneously the elevator car began to -sink.</p> - -<p>There was need to decide instantly who should -follow, who stay on guard. Rupert bade the boy -go down by the stairs, while, with a kind of bulldog -instinct, he clung to the rooms. The lad was -to fetch the manager and the keys of the Keatcham -suite.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Rupert paced back and forth before -the closed doors, whence there penetrated the -rustle of packing and a murmur of voices. Presently -Keatcham’s valet opened the farther door. -He spoke to some one inside. “Yes, sir,” he said, -“the porter hought to be ’ere now.”</p> - -<p>The porter was there; at least he was coming -down the corridor which led to the elevator, trundling -his truck before him. He entered the rooms -and busied himself about the luggage.</p> - -<p>Doggedly the colonel stuck to his guard until -the valet and another man, a clean-shaven, fresh-faced -young man whom the watcher had never -seen before, came out of the room. The valet -superintended the taking of two trunks, accepting -tickets and checks from the porter with a thoroughly -Anglican suspicion and thoroughness of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> -inspection, while the young man stood tapping his -immaculate trousers-leg with the stick of his admirably -slender umbrella.</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, Colvin,” he broke in impatiently; -“three tickets to Los Angeles, drawing-room, one -lower berth, one section, checks for two trunks; -come on!”</p> - -<p>Very methodically the man called Colvin -stowed away his green and red slips, first in an -envelope, then in his pocket-book, finally buttoning -an inside pocket over all. He was the image -of a rather stupid, conscientious English serving -creature. Carefully he counted out a liberal but -not lavish tip for the porter, and watched that -functionary depart. Last of all, he locked the -door.</p> - -<p>With extreme courtesy of manner Winter approached -the young man.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me,” said he. “I am Colonel Winter; -my aunt, Mrs. Winter, has the rooms near yours, -and she finds that she needs another room or two. -Are you leaving yours?”</p> - -<p>“These are Mr. Keatcham’s rooms, not mine,” -the young man responded politely. “<i>He</i> is leaving -them.”</p> - -<p>“When you give up your keys, would you mind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -asking the clerk to send them up to me?” pursued -the colonel. “Room three twenty-seven.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” replied the young man, “or would -you like to look at them a moment now?”</p> - -<p>“Why—if it wouldn’t detain you,” hesitated -Winter; he was hardly prepared for the offer of -admittance.</p> - -<p>“Get the elevator and hold it a minute, Colvin,” -said the young man, and he instantly fitted the key -to the door, which he flung open.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me,” said he, as they stood in the -room, “but aren’t you the Colonel Winter who -held that mountain pass to let the other fellows -get off, after your ammunition was exhausted?”</p> - -<p>“I seem to recall some such episode, only it -sounds rather gaudy the way you put it.”</p> - -<p>“I read about you in the papers; you swam a -river with Funston; did all kinds of stunts—”</p> - -<p>“Or the newspaper reporter did. You don’t -happen to know anything about the price of these -rooms, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>The young man did not know, but he showed -the colonel through all the rooms with vast civility. -He seemed quite indifferent to the colonel’s -interest in closets, baths and wardrobes; he only -wanted to talk about the Philippines.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>The colonel, who always shied like a mettled -horse from the flutter of his own laurels, grew -red with discomfort and rattled the door-knobs.</p> - -<p>“There the suite ends,” said the young man.</p> - -<p>“Oh, we don’t want it all, only a room or two,” -Colonel Winter demurred. “Any one of these -rooms would do. Well, I will not detain you. The -elevator boy will be tired, and Mr. Keatcham will -grow impatient.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all; he will have gone. I—I’m so very -glad to have met you, Colonel—”</p> - -<p>In this manner, with mutual civilities, they -parted, the young man escorting the colonel to his -own door, which the latter was forced to enter by -the sheer demands of the situation.</p> - -<p>But hardly had the door closed than he popped -out again. The young man was swinging round -the corner next the elevator.</p> - -<p>“Is he an innocent bystander or what?” puzzled -the soldier. He resumed his march up and down -the corridor. The next room to the Keatcham -suite was evidently held by an agent of the Fireless -Cooking Stove, since one of his samples had -strayed into the hall and was mutely proclaiming -its own exceeding worth in very black letters on -a very white placard.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>“If the young man and the valet are straight -goods, the key will come up reasonably soon from -the office,” thought the watcher.</p> - -<p>Sure enough, the keys, in the hands of Winter’s -own spy, appeared before he had waited three -minutes. He reported that the old gentleman got -into a cab with his secretary and the valet, and the -other gentlemen took another cab. The secretary -paid the bill. Had he gone sooner than expected? -No; he had engaged the rooms until Thursday -night; this was Thursday night.</p> - -<p>The colonel asked about the next room, which -was directly on the cross corridor leading to the -elevator. The detective had been instructed to -watch it. How long had the Fireless Cooking -Stove man had it? There was no meat for suspicion -in the answer. The stove man had come -the day before the Keatcham party. He was a -perfectly commonplace, good-looking young man, -representing the Peerless Fireless Cooking Stove -with much picturesque eloquence; he had sold a -lot of stoves to people in the hotel, and he tried -without much success to tackle “old Keatcham”; -he had attacked even the sleuth himself. “He -gave me a mighty good cigar, too,” chuckled the -red-headed one.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>“Hmn, you got it now?”</p> - -<p>“Only the memory,” the boy grinned.</p> - -<p>“You ought to have kept it, Birdsall would tell -you; you are watching every one in these rooms. -Did it have a necktie? And did you throw that -away?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, I kept that; after I got to smoking, I -just thought I’d keep it.”</p> - -<p>When he took the tiny scrap of paper from his -pocket-book the colonel eyed it grimly. “‘<i>A de -Villar y Villar</i>,’” he read, with a slight ironic -inflection. “Decidedly our young Fireless Stove -promoter smokes good cigars!”</p> - -<p>“Maybe Mr. Keatcham gave it to him. He was -in there.”</p> - -<p>“Was he? Oh, yes, trying to sell his stove—but -not succeeding?”</p> - -<p>“He said he was trying to get past the valet -and the secretary; he thought if he could only get -at the old man and demonstrate his stove he could -make the sale. He could cook all right, that -feller.”</p> - -<p>The colonel made no comment, and presently -betook himself to his aunt. She was waiting for -him in the parlor, playing solitaire. Through the -open door the white bed that ought to have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -Archie’s was gleaming faintly. The colonel’s -brows met.</p> - -<p>“Well, Bertie? Did you find anything?” Mrs. -Winter inquired smoothly.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid not; but here is the report.” He -gave it to her, even down to the cigar wrapper.</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t seem likely that Mr. Keatcham has -anything to do with it,” said she. “He, no doubt, -has stolen many a little railway, but a little boy -is too small game.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t suspect Keatcham; but I wish I -had caught the elevator to-night. He looked at -me in a mighty queer way.”</p> - -<p>“Did you recognize his secretary as any one -whom you ever saw before?” asked Mrs. Winter.</p> - -<p>“I can’t say,” was the answer, given with a -little hesitation. “I’m not sure.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think I quite understand you, Bertie; -better make a clean breast of all you know. I’m -getting a little worried myself.”</p> - -<p>The colonel reached across the cards and tapped -his aunt’s arm affectionately. He felt the warmest -impulse toward sympathy for her that he had -ever known; it glistened in his eyes. Mrs. Winter’s -cheeks slowly crimsoned; she turned her -head, exclaiming, did she hear a noise; but the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -colonel’s keen ears had not been warned. “Poor -woman,” he thought, “she is worried to death, -but she will not admit it.”</p> - -<p>“Now, Bertie,” said Mrs. Winter calmly, but -her elbow fell on her cards and spoiled a very -promising game of Penelope’s Web, “now, Bertie, -<i>what</i> are you keeping back?”</p> - -<p>Then, at last, the colonel told her of his experience -in Chicago. She heard him quite without -comment, and he could detect no shift of emotion -in her demeanor of absorbed but perfectly calm -attention, unless a certain tension of attitude and -feature (as if, he phrased it, she were “holding -herself in”) might be so considered. And he was -not sure of this. When he came to the words -which stuck in his throat, the sentence about Miss -Smith, she smiled frankly, almost laughed.</p> - -<p>At the end of the recital—and the colonel had -not omitted a word or a look in his memory—she -merely said: “Then you think Cary Mercer has -kidnapped Archie, and the nice-looking Harvard -boy is helping him?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think it looks that way, yourself?”</p> - -<p>She answered that question by another one: -“But you don’t think, do you, that Janet is the -Miss Smith mentioned?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>His reply came after an almost imperceptible -hesitation: “No!”</p> - -<p>Again she smiled. “That is because you know -Janet; if you didn’t know her you would think -the chances were in favor of their meaning her? -Naturally! Well, I know Cary a little. I knew -his father <i>well</i>. I don’t believe he would harm a -hair of Archie’s head. He isn’t a cruel fellow—at -least not toward women and children. I’ve a notion -that what he calls his wrongs have upset his -wits a bit, and he might turn the screws on the -Wall Street crowd that ruined him. That is, if -he had a chance; but he is poor; he would need -millions to get even a chance for a blow at them. -But a child, a lad who looks like his brother—no, -you may be sure he wouldn’t hurt Archie! He -<i>couldn’t</i>.”</p> - -<p>“But—the name, Winter; it is not such a common -name; and the words about a lady of—of—” -The polite soldier hesitated.</p> - -<p>“An old woman, do you mean?” said Aunt Rebecca, -with a little curving of her still unwrinkled -upper lip.</p> - -<p>“It sounds so complete,” submitted her nephew.</p> - -<p>“Therefore distrust it,” she argued dryly. -“Gaboriau’s great detective and Conan Doyle’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -both have that same maxim—not to pick out easy -answers.”</p> - -<p>Winter smiled in his own turn. “Still, sometimes -the easy answers are right. Now, here is -the situation: I hear this conversation at the -depot. I find one of the men on the same train -with me. He, presumably, if he <i>is</i> Cary Mercer, -and I don’t think I can be mistaken in his identity—”</p> - -<p>“Unless another man is making up as Cary!”</p> - -<p>“It may seem conceited, but I don’t think I -could be fooled. This man had every expression -of the other’s, and I was too struck by the—I may -almost call it malignant—look he had, not to recognize -him. No, it <i>was</i> Mercer; he would certainly -recognize you, and he would know who I -am; he would not be called upon to snub me as a -possible confidence man.”</p> - -<p>“That rankles yet, Bertie?”</p> - -<p>He made a grimace and nodded.</p> - -<p>“But,” he insisted, “isn’t it so? If he is up to -some mischief, any mischief—doesn’t care to have -his kin meet him—that is the way he would act, -don’t you think?”</p> - -<p>“He might be up to mischief, yet have no designs -on his kin.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>“He might,” said the colonel musingly. A -thought which he did not confide to the shrewd -old woman had just flipped his mind. But he -went on with his plea.</p> - -<p>“He avoids you; he avoids me. He is seen going -into Keatcham’s drawing-room; that means -some sort of an acquaintance with Keatcham, -enough to talk to him, anyway. How much, I -can’t say. Then comes the attack by the robbers; -he is in another car, so there is no call for him to -do anything; there is no light whatever on -whether he had anything to do with the robbery.</p> - -<p>“Then we come here. Keatcham has the room -next but one. Archie goes into his own room; we -see him go; I am outside, directly outside; it is -simply impossible for him to go out into the hall -without my seeing him; besides, I found the doors -outside all locked except the one to the right where -we entered your suite; then we may assume that -he could not go out. He could not climb out of -locked windows on the third floor down a sheer -descent of some forty or fifty feet. Your last -room to the right, Miss Smith’s bedroom, is a -corner room; besides, she was in it; that excludes -every exit except that to the left. We find Mrs. -Wigglesworth was absent, and there were evidences<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> -of—an—an attack of some kind carefully -hidden, afterward. But there is no sign of the -boy. I watch the rooms. If he is hidden somewhere -in Keatcham’s rooms, the chances are, after -Keatcham goes, they will try to take him off. I -don’t think it probable that Keatcham knows anything -about the kidnapping; in fact, it is wildly -<i>im</i>probable. Well, Keatcham goes; immediately -I get into the room. The valet and the young man -visiting Keatcham, young Arnold, let me in without -the slightest demur. Either they know nothing -of the boy or somehow they have got him -away, else they would not let me in so easily. -Maybe they are ignorant and the boy is gone, -both. We go to the rooms very soon after; there -is not the smallest trace of Archie.”</p> - -<p>“How did he get out?”</p> - -<p>“They must have outwitted me, somehow,” the -colonel sighed, “and it looks as if he went voluntarily; -there was no possible carrying away by -force. And there was no odor of chloroform -about; that is very penetrating; it would get into -the halls. They must have persuaded him to go—but -how?”</p> - -<p>“If they have kidnapped him,” said Mrs. Winter, -“they will send me some word, and if they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -have persuaded him to run away, plainly he must -be able to walk, and that—mess in Mrs. Wigglesworth’s -room doesn’t mean anything bad.”</p> - -<p>“Of course not,” said the colonel firmly.</p> - -<p>Then, in as casual a tone as he could command: -“By the way, where is Miss Smith? She is back, -isn’t she?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, a long time ago,” said Mrs. Winter. “I -sent her to bed.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been frank with you. You will reciprocate -and tell me why, for what, you sent her out?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Winter made not the least evasion. She -answered frankly: “I sent her with a carefully -worded advertisement—but you needn’t tell Millicent, -who has also gone to bed, thank Heaven—I -sent her with a carefully worded advertisement to -all the papers. This is the advertisement. It will -reach the kidnappers, and it will not reach any -one else. See.” She handed him a slip of paper -from her card-case. He read:</p> - -<p>“To the holders of Archie W: Communicate -with R. S. W., same address as before, and you -will hear of something to your advantage. Perfectly -safe.”</p> - -<p>The colonel read it thoughtfully, a little puzzled. -Before he had time to speak, his quick ears<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -caught the sharp ring of his room telephone bell. -He excused himself to answer it. His room was -the last of the suite, but he shut the door on his -way to the telephone.</p> - -<p>He expected Haley; nor was he disappointed. -Haley reported—in Spanish—that he had traced -the automobile; it was the property of young Mr. -Arnold, son of the rich Mr. Arnold. Young Arnold -had been at Harvard last year, and he took -out a Massachusetts license; he had a California -one, too. Should he (Haley) look up young Arnold? -And should he come to report that night?</p> - -<p>The colonel thought he could wait till morning, -and, a little comforted, hung up the receiver. -Barely was it out of his hand when the bell -shrilled again, sharply, vehemently. Winter put -the tube to his ear.</p> - -<p>“Does any one want Colonel Winter, Palace -Hotel?” he asked.</p> - -<p>A sweet, eager, boyish voice called back: “Uncle -Bertie! Uncle Bertie, don’t you worry; I’m -all right!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Archie!</i>” cried the colonel. “<i>Where are you?</i>”</p> - -<p>But there was no answer. He called again, and -a second time; he told the lad that they were -dreadfully anxious about him. He got no response<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> -from the boy; but another voice, a woman’s -voice, said, with cold distinctness, as if to -some one in the room: “No, don’t let him; it is -impossible!” Then a dead wall of silence and Central’s -impassive ignorance. He could get nothing.</p> - -<p>Rupert Winter stood a moment, frowning and -thinking deeply. Directly, with a shrug of the -shoulders, he walked out of his own outside door, -locking it, and went straight to Miss Smith’s.</p> - -<p>He knocked, at first very gently, then more -vigorously. But there was no answer. He went -away from the door, but he did not reënter his -room. He did not bear to his aunt the news which, -with all its meagerness and irritating incompleteness, -had been an enormous relief to him. He -simply waited in the corridor. Five minutes, ten -minutes passed; then he heard the elevator whir, -and, standing with his hand on the knob of his -open door, he saw his aunt’s companion, dressed -for the street, step out and speed down the corridor -to her own door.</p> - -<p>The other voice—the woman’s voice—had been -Janet Smith’s.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII<br /> - -<small>THE HAUNTED HOUSE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>A mud-splashed automobile runabout containing -two men was turning off Van Ness Avenue -down a narrower and shadier side street in the -afternoon of the Sunday following the disappearance -of Archie Winter. One of the occupants -seemed to be an invalid whom the brilliant March -sunshine had not tempted out of his heavy wrappings -and cap; the other was a short, thick-set, -corduroy-jacketed chauffeur. One marked the -runabout at a glance as a hardly used livery motor-car; -but a moment’s inspection might have -shown that it was running with admirable smoothness -and quiet. The chauffeur wore goggles, -hence his eyes were shielded, but he turned a -broad smile upon the pallid cheeks and sharpened -profile beside him.</p> - -<p>“Colonel, as a health-seeker who can’t keep -warm enough, you’re great!” he cried. “Lord, -but you look the part!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>“If I can’t shed some of these confounded -mufflers soon,” growled the pale sufferer addressed, -“I’ll get so red with heat it will come -through my beautiful powder. I hope those fellows -won’t see us, for they will be on to us, all -right.”</p> - -<p>“Our own mothers wouldn’t be on to us in these -rigs,” the chauffeur replied cheerily; he seemed to -be in a hopeful mood; “and let us once get into -the house, and surprise ’em, and there’ll be something -drop. But I haven’t really had a chance to -tell you the latest—having to pick you up at a -drug store this way. Now, let’s sum things up! -You think the boy got out through Keatcham’s -apartment? Or Mrs. Wigglesworth’s?”</p> - -<p>“How else?” said the colonel, “he can’t fly, -and if he could, he couldn’t fly out and then lock -the windows from the inside.”</p> - -<p>“I see”—the chauffeur appeared thoughtful—“and -the Wigglesworth door was locked. You -think that Keatcham is in it, someway?”</p> - -<p>“Not Keatcham,” said the colonel. “There -was another man in the car—Atkins they called -him, though he has disappeared. But Mercer remains. -His secretary and that valet of his; I -think the secretary is Cary Mercer. The boy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> -might have slipped out in those few moments we -were hunting for him inside. Afterward, either -Mrs. Melville Winter or I was on guard until -your man came. He might go to the Fireless -Stove man, slip out of his rooms, and round the -corner to the elevator in a couple of seconds. -Then, of course, I might see their rooms—”</p> - -<p>“Provided, that is, the Fireless Stove drummer -is in the plot, too.”</p> - -<p>“The Fireless Stove drummer who smokes <i>Villar -y Villar</i> cigars? He is in it, I think, Birdsall.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll assume that. Next thing: you get -the telephone call. And you say the voice sounded -chipper; didn’t look like he was being hurt or -bothered anyway, did it?”</p> - -<p>“Not at all. Besides, you know the letter Miss -Smith got this morning?”</p> - -<p>“I think I’d like another peek at that; will you -drive her a minute, while I look at the letter -again?” The instant his hands were free Birdsall -pulled out the envelope from his leather-rimmed -pocket.</p> - -<p>It was rectangular in shape and smaller than -the ordinary business envelope. The paper was -linen of a common diamond pattern, having no -engraved heading. The detective ran his eyes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -down the few lines written in an unformed boyish -hand. There was neither date nor place; only -these words:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Miss Janet</span>—Don’t you or auntie be woried about -me because I am well and safe and having a good time. I -had the nose bleed that is why I spoted the carpet. Tell -Auntie to please pay for it out of my next week’s allowance. -Be sure and don’t wory.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright">Your aff. friend,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Archibald Page Winter</span>.</p> -</div> - -<p>“You’re sure this is the boy’s writing?” was -the detective’s comment.</p> - -<p>“Sure. And his spelling, too.”</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Birdsall, watching the colonel’s -keen, aquiline profile as he spoke, “now you notice -there’s no heading or mark on the paper; -and the water-mark is only O. K. E., Mass., 1904. -And that amounts to nothing; those folks sell all -over the country. But you notice that it is not -the ordinary business paper; it looks rather ladylike -than commercial, doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>The colonel admitted that it did look so.</p> - -<p>“Now, assuming that this letter was sent with -the connivance of the kidnappers, it looks as if -our young gentleman wasn’t in any particular -danger of having a hard time. To me, it looks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -pretty certain he must have skipped himself; -tolled along someway, maybe, but not making -any resistance. Now, is there anybody that you -know who has enough influence over him for that? -How about the lady’s maid?”</p> - -<p>“Randall has been a faithful servant for twenty -years, a middle-aged, serious-minded, decent -woman. Out of the question.”</p> - -<p>“This Miss Smith, your aunt’s companion, who -is she? Do you know?”</p> - -<p>“A South Carolinian; good family; she has -lived with my aunt as secretary and companion -for a year; my aunt is very fond of her.”</p> - -<p>“That all you know? Well <i>I</i> have found out -a little more; she used to live with a Mrs. James -S. Hastings, a rich Washington woman. The -lady’s only son fell in love with her; <i>somehow</i> -the marriage was broken off.”</p> - -<p>“What was his name?”</p> - -<p>“Lawrence. They call him Larry. He went to -Manila. Maybe you’ve met him there.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I knew him; I don’t believe he ever was -accepted by her.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. I have only had two days on -her biography. Later, she went to Johns Hopkins -Hospital. One of the doctors was very attentive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -to her—but it did not come to anything. She -didn’t graduate. Don’t know why. Then she -went to live with Miss Angela Nelson, who died -and left her money, away from her own family. -There was talk of breaking the will; but it wasn’t -done. Then she came to Mrs. Winter.”</p> - -<p>The colonel was silent; there was nothing discreditable -in these details. He had known before -that Janet Smith was poor; that she had been -thrown on the world early; that she must earn -her own livelihood; yet, somehow, as Birdsall -marshaled the facts, there was an insidious, malarious -hint of the adventuress, bandied from place -to place, hawking her attractions about, wheedling, -charming for hire, entrapping imbecile -young cubs—Larry Hastings wasn’t more than -twenty-two—somehow he felt a revolt against -the picture and against the man submitting it—and, -confound Millicent!</p> - -<p>The detective changed the manner of his questions -a little. “I suppose your aunt is pretty advanced -in years, though she is as well preserved -an old lady as I have ever met, and as -shrewd. Say, wouldn’t she be likely to leave the -boy a lot of money?”</p> - -<p>“I dare say.” The colonel was conscious of an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -intemperate impulse to kick Birdsall, who had -been such a useful fellow in the Philippines.</p> - -<p>“If anything was to happen to him, who would -get the money?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Mrs. Melville and I are next of kin,” -returned the colonel dryly. “Do you suspect <i>us</i>?”</p> - -<p>“I did look up Mrs. Melville,” answered the -unabashed detective, “but I guess she’s straight -goods all right. But say, how about Miss Smith?”</p> - -<p>The colonel stared, then he laughed. “Birdsall,” -said he, “there’s somewhat too much mention -of ladies’ names to suit my Virginian taste. -But if you mean to imply that Miss Smith is going -to kill Archie to get my aunt’s money, I can tell -you you are <i>’way off!</i> Your imagination is too -active for your profession. You ought to hire -out to the yellow journals.”</p> - -<p>His employer’s satire did not even flick the -dust off Birdsall’s complacency; he grinned cheerfully. -“Oh, I’m not so bad as <i>that</i>; I don’t suppose -she did kill the boy; I think he’s alive, all -right. But say, Colonel, I’ll give it to you straight; -I do think the señora coaxed the boy off. You -admit, don’t you, he went off. Well, then he was -coaxed, somehow. Now, who’s got influence -enough to coax him? You cross out the maid;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> -so do I. You cross out Mrs. Melville Winter; so -do I. I guess we both cross out the old lady. -Well, there’s you and the señora left. I don’t -suspect <i>you</i>, General.”</p> - -<p>“Really? I don’t see why. I stand to make -more than anybody else, if you are digging up -motives. And how about the chambermaid?”</p> - -<p>Birdsall flashed a glance of reproach on his -companion. “Now, Colonel, do you think I ain’t -looked <i>her</i> up? First thing. Nothing in it. Decent -Vermont girl, three years in the hotel. Came -for her lungs. She ain’t in it. But let’s get back -to Miss Smith. Did you know she is Cary -Mercer’s sister-in-law?”</p> - -<p>He delivered his shot in a casual way, and the -colonel took it stonily; nevertheless, it went to -the mark. Birdsall continued. “Now, question is, -<i>was</i> Mercer the secretary? You didn’t see the man -in the elevator, except his back. Had he two -moles?”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t see. He had different clothes; -but still there was something like Mercer about -the shoulders.”</p> - -<p>“Burney didn’t get a chance to take a snapshot, -but he did snap the stove man. Here it is. Pull -that book out of my pocket.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>Obeying, the colonel lifted a couple of small -prints which he scrutinized intently, at the end, -admitting, “Yes, it is he all right. Now do you -know what <i>I</i> think?”</p> - -<p>Birdsall couldn’t form an idea.</p> - -<p>“I think the Keatcham party is in it; and I -think they are after bigger game than Archie. -Maybe the train robbers were a part of the -scheme—although I’m not so sure of that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the robbers were in it all right. But now -come to Miss Smith; where does she come in? -Or are you as sure of her as Mercer was in Chicago?”</p> - -<p>If he had expected to get a spark out of the -Winter tinder by this scraping stroke, he was -mistaken; the soldier did not even move his brooding -gaze fixed on the hills beyond the house -roofs; and he answered in a level tone: “Did you -get <i>that</i> story from my aunt, or was it Mrs. Melville? -I’m pretty certain you got your biography -from that quarter. My aunt might have told her.”</p> - -<p>“That would be betraying a lady’s confidence. -I’m only a detective, whose business is to pry, -but I never go back on the ladies. And I think, -same’s you, that the lady in question is a real -nice, high-toned lady; but I can’t disregard the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -evidence. I never give out my system, but I’ve -got one, all the same. Look here, see this paper?”—he -had replaced the envelope in his pocket; -he pulled it out again; or rather, so the colonel -fancied, until Birdsall turned the envelope over, -revealing it to be blank. “There’s a sheet of -paper inside; take it out. Look at the water-mark, -look at the pattern; then compare it with this -letter”—handing the colonel the original envelope. -“Same exactly, ain’t they?”</p> - -<p>The colonel, who had studied the two sheets -of paper silently, nodded as silently; and he had -a premonition of Birdsall’s next sentence before -it came. “Well, Mrs. Melville Winter, this morning, -took me to Miss Smith’s desk, where we -found this and a lot more like it.”</p> - -<p>“You seem to be right in thinking the paper -widely distributed,” observed the colonel.</p> - -<p>“And you don’t think that suspicious?”</p> - -<p>“I should think it more suspicious if the paper -were not out on her desk. If she is such a deep -one as you seem to think, she would hide such an -incriminating bit of evidence.”</p> - -<p>“She didn’t know we suspected her. Of course, -you haven’t shadowed her a little bit?”</p> - -<p>“There is a limit to detective duty in the case<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -of a gentleman,” returned the colonel haughtily. -“I have not.”</p> - -<p>Little Birdsall sighed; then in a propitiatory -tone: “Well, of course, we both think there are -other people in the job; I don’t know exactly what -you mean by bigger game, but I can make a stagger -at it. Now, say, did you get any answer when -you wrote to Keatcham himself?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the colonel grimly, “I heard. You -know the sort of letter I wrote; telling him of our -dreadful anxiety and about the lad’s being an -orphan; don’t you think it was the sort of letter a -decent man would answer, no matter how busy -he might be?”</p> - -<p>“Sure. Didn’t you get an answer?”</p> - -<p>“I did.” The colonel extricated himself from -his wrappings enough to find a pale blue envelope, -which he handed to Birdsall, at the same time -taking the motor handle. “You see; type-written, -very polite, chilly sort of letter, kind to make a -man hot under the collar and swear at Keatcham’s -heartlessness. Mr. Keatcham unable to answer, -having been ill since he left San Francisco. Did -not see anything of any boy. Probably boy ran -away. Has no information of any kind to afford. -And the writer is very sincerely mine. The minute<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> -I read it I was sure Mercer wrote it; and he -wrote it to make me so disgusted with Keatcham -I wouldn’t pursue the subject with him. Just the -same way he snubbed my aunt; and, for that matter, -just the way he tried to snub me on the train. -But he missed his mark; I wired every hotel in -Santa Barbara and every one in Los Angeles; -and Keatcham isn’t there and hasn’t been there. -He has a big bunch of mail at Santa Barbara -waiting for him, forwarded from Los Angeles, -but he hasn’t shown himself.”</p> - -<p>Birdsall shot a glance of cordial admiration -at the colonel. “You’re all there, General,” he -cried with unquenchable familiarity. “I’ve been -trying to call up the Keatcham outfit, and <i>I</i> -couldn’t get a line, either. They haven’t used the -tickets they bought—their reservations went -empty to Los Angeles. Now, what do you make -out of that?”</p> - -<p>“I make out that Archie is only part of their -game,” replied the soldier. “Now see, Birdsall, -you are not going to get a couple of rich young -college fellows to do just plain kidnapping and -scaring women out of their money—”</p> - -<p>“Lord, General,” interrupted Birdsall, “those -college guys don’t turn a hair at kidnapping;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -they regularly steal the president of the freshman -class, and the things they do at their hazing bees -and initiations would make an Apache Indian sit -up and take notice. I tell you, General, they’re -the limit for deviltry.”</p> - -<p>“Some kinds. Not that kind; it’s too dirty. -Arnold was one of the cleanest foot-ball players -at Harvard. And I don’t know anything about -human nature if that other youngster isn’t decent. -But Mercer—<i>es un loco</i>; you can look out for -anything from him. Now, see the combination. -Arnold was at Harvard! I have traced the motor-car -they used to him; and then, if you add that -his father is away safe in Europe and he has an -empty house, off to one side, with a quantity of -space around it and the reputation of being -haunted, why—”</p> - -<p>“It looks good to me. And I understand my -men have got around it on the quiet all right. -How’s your man Haley got on, hiring out to the -Jap in charge?”</p> - -<p>“Well enough; the Jap took him on to mow, -but either Mr. Caretaker doesn’t know anything -or he won’t tell. He’s bubbling over with conversation -about the flowers and the country and the -Philippines, where he used to be; but he only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> -knows that the honorable family are all away -and he is to shun the house. Aren’t we almost -there?”</p> - -<p>“Just around the corner. I guess when you -see it you’ll think it’s just the <i>patio</i> a spook of -taste would freeze to.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Why</i> is it haunted?”</p> - -<p>“Now you have me. I ain’t on to such dream -stuff. Gimme five cards. Mrs. Arnold died off in -Europe, so ’tain’t her; and the house has only -been built two years; but the neighbors have seen -lights and heard groans and a pick chopping at -the stones. Some folks say the land belonged -to an old miner and he died before he could tell -where he’d buried his <i>mazuma</i>; so he is taking a -little <i>buscar</i> after it. There’s the house, General.”</p> - -<p>The street climbed a gentle hill, and on its -crest a large house, in mission style, looked over -a pleasant land. Its position on a corner and the -unusual size of the grounds about it gave the mansion -an effect of space. Of almost rawly recent -erection though it was, the kindly climate had so -fostered the growth of the pines, acacias and live-oaks, -the eucalypti and the orange-trees, which -made a rich blur of color on the hillside, had so -lavishly tended the creeping ivies and Bougainvilleas<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -which masked the rounded lantern arches -of the stern gray façade, and so sumptuously blazoned -the flower-beds in the garden on the one -hand, yet, on the other, had so cunningly dulled -the greenish gray of the cobblestones from California -arroyos in chimney and foundation, and -had so softly streaked the marble of the garden -statues and the plaster of walls and mansion with -tiny filaments of lichens or faint green moss, that -the beholder might fancy the house to be the ancient -home of some Spanish hidalgo, handed down -with an hereditary curse, through generations, to -the last of his race. One was tempted to such a -flutter of fancy because of the impression given -by the mansion. A sullen reticence hung about the -place. The windows, for the most part, were -heavily shuttered. Not a pane of glass flashed -back at the sunlight; even those casements not -shuttered turned blank dark green shades, like -bandaged eyes, on the court and the beautiful terraces -and the lovely sweep of hillsides where the -wonderful shadows swayed and melted.</p> - -<p>The bent figure of a man raking, distorted by -the perspective, was visible just beyond the high -pillars of the gateway. He paid no attention to -the motions of the motor-car, nor did he answer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> -a hail until it was repeated. Then he approached -the car. Birdsall was in the roadway trying to -unlock the gate. The man, whose Japanese features -were quite distinguishable, bowed; he explained -that the honorable owners were not at -home; his insignificant self was the only keeper -of the grounds. He spoke sufficiently good English -with the accompaniment of a deprecatory, -amiable smile. Birdsall, in turn, told him that his -own companion was a very great gentleman from -the East who belonged to a society of vast power -which was investigating spectral appearances, and -that he had come thousands of miles to see the -ghost.</p> - -<p>The Japanese extended both hands, while the -appeal of his smile deepened. “Too bad, velly,” -he murmured, “but not leally any g’lost, no, nev’.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you believe in the ghost?” asked Colonel -Winter.</p> - -<p>“No, me Clistian boy, no believe not’ing.”</p> - -<p>“All the samee,” said the colonel, laboriously -swinging himself from his vantage-ground of the -motor seat to the flat top of the wall, thence dropping -to the greensward below, “allee samee, like -go in house hunt ghost.” He crackled a bank-note -in the palm of the slim brown hand, smiling and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -nodding as if to break the force of his brusque action. -Meanwhile, Birdsall had safely shut off his -engine before he placed himself beside the others -with an agility hardly to be expected of his rotund -build.</p> - -<p>As for the caretaker, whether because he perceived -himself outnumbered, or because he was -really void of suspicion, he accepted the money -with outward gratitude and proffered his guidance -through the garden and the orchards. He -slipped into the rôle of cicerone with no atom of -resistance; he was voluble; he was gracious; he -was artlessly delighted with his señors. In spite -of this flood of suavity, however, there seemed to -be no possibility of persuading him to admit them -to the house.</p> - -<p>Assured of this, the two fell back for a second, -time for the merest eyeflash from the detective -to the soldier, who at once limped briskly up to -the Jap, saying: “We are very much obliged to -you; this is a beautiful house, beautiful gardens; -but we want to see the ghost; and if you can give -me young Mr. Arnold’s address I will see him—or -write, and we can come back.”</p> - -<p>The gardener, with many apologies and smiles, -did not know Mr. Arnold’s honorable address, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -he drew out a soiled card, explaining that it bore -the name of the gentleman in charge of the property. -Birdsall, peering over the Jap’s shoulders, -added that it was the card of a well-known legal -firm.</p> - -<p>“Then,” said the colonel with deliberation, “we -will thank you again for your courtesy, and—what’s -that?”</p> - -<p>The Jap turned; they all started at the barking -detonation of some explosion; while they gazed -about them there came another booming sound, -and they could see smoke pouring from the chimney -and leaking through the window joints of a -room in the rear of the house. Like a hare, not -breaking his wind by a single cry, the Jap sped -toward the court. The others were hard on his -heels, though the colonel limped and showed signs -of distress by the time they reached the great iron -door.</p> - -<p>The Jap pulled out a key; he turned it and -swung the door barely wide enough to enter, calling -on them to stay out; he would tell them if he -needed them.</p> - -<p>“Augustly stay; maybe honolable t’ieves!” he -cried.</p> - -<p>But the detective had interposed a stalwart leg<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -and shoulder. Instantly the door swung open; he -acted as if he had lost his wits with excitement. -“You’re burning up! Lord! you’re burning! -<i>Fire!</i> <i>Fire!</i>” he bawled, and rushed boldly into the -room.</p> - -<p>Winter followed him, also calling aloud in a -strident voice. And it was to be observed, being -such an unusual preparation for a conflagration, -that he had drawn a heavy revolver and ran with -it in his hand. Before he jumped out of the car -he had discarded his thick top-coat and all his -wrappings.</p> - -<p>An observer, also (had there been one near), -would have taken note of a robust Irishman, who -had been weeding the flower-beds, and would have -seen him straighten at the first peal of the explosion, -stare wildly at the chimneys before any -distinct smoke was to be seen, then run swiftly -and climb up to a low chimney on a wing of the -house, watering-pot in hand. He would have seen -him empty his inadequate fire extinguisher and -rapidly descend the ladder, while the smoke volleyed -forth, as if defying his puny efforts; later, -he would have seen the watering-pot bearer pursue -the others into the house, emitting noble yells -of “Fire!” and “Help!”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_136fp.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">The detective had interposed a stalwart leg and shoulder. Page <a href="#Page_135">135</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>Further, this same observer, had he been an intimate -friend of Sergeant Dennis Haley, certainly -would have recognized that resourceful man of -war in the amateur fireman.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII<br /> - -<small>FACE TO FACE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>When the two men got into the house the dim -rooms made them stumble for a moment after -the brilliant sunshine of the outer skies; but in -a second Birdsall’s groping hand had found an -electric push-button and the room was flooded -with light. They were in a small office off the -kitchen, apparently. Smoke of a peculiarly pungent -odor and eye-smarting character blurred all -the surroundings; but during the moment the Jap -halted to explore its cause the others perceived two -doors and made for them. One was locked, but -the other must have been free to open, since Haley, -with his watering-can, bounded through it -while they were tugging at the other. Almost immediately, -however, Haley was back again shouting -and pointing down the dark passage.</p> - -<p>“The fire’s <i>there</i>,” screamed the detective. “I -can smell smoke! The smoke comes through the -keyhole!” But while the Jap fitted a key in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -lock and swung back the door, and Haley, who -had paused to replenish his watering-can at a convenient -faucet, darted after the other two, the -colonel stood listening with every auditory nerve -strained to catch some sound. He yelled “Fire! -help!” at the top of his voice, but not moving a -muscle. “Too far off,” he muttered, then he -yelled again and threw a heavy chair as if he had -stumbled against it. Another pause; he got down -on his knees to put his ear to the floor. Directly -he rose; he did not speak, but the words that he -said to himself were only: “Just possible. Some -one down cellar; but not under here.” Meanwhile -he was hurrying in pursuit of the others as swiftly -as his stiff knee would allow. He found them in -a side hall with tiled or brick floor, gathered about -a water-soaked heap of charred red paper.</p> - -<p>“’Tis terrible!” announced Haley, “a bum for -sure! a dinnermite bum!”—fishing out something -like a tin tomato can from the sodden mass.</p> - -<p>“Anyhow, <i>there</i> goes the real thing,” observed -the colonel coolly, as a formidable explosion -jarred the air.</p> - -<p>“If you blow us up, I kill you flist!” hissed the -Jap, and his knife flashed.</p> - -<p>“<i>Chito, Chito!</i>” soothed the colonel, lifting his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> -revolver almost carelessly. Simultaneously two -brawny arms pinioned the Jap’s own arms at his -sides.</p> - -<p>“Shure, Mister Samurai, ’tis the ongrateful -chap youse is,” expostulated Haley. “I hate to -reshtrain ye, but if ye thry any jehujits on me -’twill be sahanara wid youse mighty quick.”</p> - -<p>“No understan’,” murmured the Jap plaintively. -“Why you hult me?”</p> - -<p>“Come, put out the fire first,” said the colonel; -“you know the house, you go ahead.”</p> - -<p>The Jap darted on ahead so swiftly that they -had some ado to follow; which seemed necessary, -since he might have clashed a bolt on them at any -turn. The colonel’s stiff leg kept him in the rear, -but Haley was never a hand’s-breadth behind the -runner.</p> - -<p>They found smoke in two places, but they easily -extinguished the tiny flames. In both cases the -bombs turned out to be no more dangerous than -a common kind of fireworks yielding a suffocating -smoke in an inclosure, but doing no especial damage -on safe and fire-proof ground, like a hearth. -They were quickly extinguished. In their search -they passed from one luxurious room to another, -the Jap leading, until he finally halted in a spacious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -library hung in Spanish leather, with ancient, -richly carved Spanish tables and entrancing -Spanish chairs of turned wood and age-mellowed -cane, and bookcases sumptuously tempting a -book-lover. But the colonel cared only for the soul -of a book, not its body; the richest and clearest of -black letter or the daintiest of tooling had left -him cold; moreover, every fiber in him was strung -by his quest; and Haley, naturally, was immune; -strangely enough, it was the cheerful, vulgar little -detective who gave a glance, rapid but full of admiration, -at the shelves and pile of missals on the -table, incongruously jostled by magazines of the -day.</p> - -<p>Winter faced the Jap, who was sheathed again -in his bland and impassive politeness. “Where is -Mr. Mercer?” said he.</p> - -<p>The Jap waved his hands in an eloquent oriental -gesture. He assured the honorable questioner -that he did not know any Mr. Mercer. -There was no one in the house.</p> - -<p>The colonel had seated himself in a priceless -arm-chair in Cordova stamped leather; he no -longer looked like an invalid. “Show your star, -please,” he commanded Birdsall, and the latter silently -flung back the lapel of his coat.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>“I ought to tell you,” continued Rupert Winter, -“that the game is up. It would do no good -for you to run that poisoned bit of steel of yours -into me or into any of us; we have only to stay -here a little too long and the police of San Francisco -will be down on you—oh, I know all about -what sort they are, but we have money to spend -as well as you. You take the note I shall write to -Mr. Mercer, or whatever you choose to call him, -and bring his answer. We stay here until he -comes.”</p> - -<p>Having thus spoken in an even, gentle voice, he -scribbled a few words on a piece of paper which -he took out of his note-book. This he proffered to -the Jap.</p> - -<p>On his part, the latter kept his self-respect; he -abated no jot of his assurance that they were alone -in the house; he insinuated his suspicion that they -were there for no honest purpose; finally he was -willing to search the house if they would stay -where they were.</p> - -<p>“I am not often mistaken in people,” was the -colonel’s rather oblique answer, “and I think you -are a gentleman who might kill me if you had a -chance, but would not break his word to me. If -you will promise to play fair with us, do no harm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> -to my nephew, take this letter and bring me an answer—if -you find any one—on your word of -honor as a Japanese soldier and gentleman, you -may go; we will not signal the police. Is it a -bargain?”</p> - -<p>The Jap gravely assented, still in the language -of the East, “saving his face” by the declaration -of the absence of his principals. And he went off -as gracefully and courteously as if only the highest -civilities had passed between them.</p> - -<p>“Won’t he try some skin game on us?” the detective -questioned; but Winter only motioned toward -the telephone desk. “Listen at it,” he said, -“you can tell if the wires are cut; and he knows -your men are outside hiding, somewhere; he -doesn’t know how many. You see, we have the -advantage of them there; to be safe they don’t -dare to let many people into their secret. <i>We</i> can -have a whole gang. We haven’t many, but they -may <i>think</i> we have.”</p> - -<p>Birdsall, who had lifted the receiver to his ear, -laid it down with an appeased nod. Immediately -he proceeded to satisfy his professional conscience -by a search in every nook and cranny of the apartment. -But no result appeared important enough to -justify the production of his red morocco note-book<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -and his fountain-pen. He had paused in disgust -when the colonel sat up suddenly, erect in his -chair; his keener ears had caught some sound -which made him dart to all the windows in succession. -He called Haley (whom he had posted -outside to guard the door) and despatched him -across the hall to reconnoiter. “I am sure it was -the sound of wheels,” he explained, “but Haley -will be too late; we are on the wrong side of the -house.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke the buzz of an electric bell jarred -their ears. “Somebody is coming in the front -door,” hazarded Birdsall.</p> - -<p>“Evidently,” returned the colonel dryly. “How -can our absent friends get in otherwise—at least -how can they let us understand they have come -in? I think we are going to have the pleasure of -an interview with the elusive Mr. Mercer.”</p> - -<p>They waited. The colonel motioned Birdsall to -a seat by the table, within breathing distance of -the telephone. He himself fluttered the loose -journals and magazines, his ironic smile creasing -his cheek. “Our Japanese friend reads the newspapers,” -he remarked. “Here are to-day’s papers; -yes, <i>Examiner</i> and <i>Chronicle</i>, unfolded and -smoked over. Cigar, too, not cigarette, for here<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -is a stump—decidedly our cherry-blossom friends -are getting civilized!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, there is somebody <i>in</i> here all right,” -grunted Birdsall. “Say, Colonel, you are sure -Mrs. Winter has had no answer to her ad? No -kind of notice about sending money?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t seen her for a few hours, but I saw -Mrs. Melville Winter; she was positive no word -had come. She thought my aunt was more worried -than she would admit, and Miss Smith looked -pale, although she seemed hopeful.”</p> - -<p>“She didn’t really want to give me the letter, I -thought,” said the detective. The colonel gave -him no reply save a black look. A silence fell. A -footfall outside broke it, a firm, in nowise -stealthy footfall. Birdsall slipped his hand inside -his coat. The colonel rose and bowed gravely to -Cary Mercer.</p> - -<p>On his part, Mercer was not in the least flurried; -he looked at the two men, not with the arrogant -suspicion which had stung Winter on the -train, but with the melancholy courtesy of his -bearing at Cambridge, three years before.</p> - -<p>“This, I think, is Colonel Winter?” he said, returning -the bow, but not extending his hand, -which hung down, slack and empty at his side.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>“I am glad you recognized me this time, Mr. -Mercer.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry that I did not recognize you before,” -answered Mercer. “Will you gentlemen be -seated? I am not the owner of the house nor his -son; I am not even a friend, only a casual acquaintance -of the young man, but I seem to be -rather in the position of host, so will you be -seated, and may I offer you some Scotch and -Shasta—Mr.—ah—”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Horatio Birdsall, of the Birdsall and -Gwen Detective Agency,” interposed Winter. -Birdsall bowed. Mercer bowed. “Excuse me if -I decline for us both; our time is limited—no, -thank you, not a cigar, either. Now, Mr. Mercer, -to come to the point, I want my nephew. I understand -he is in this house.”</p> - -<p>“You are quite mistaken,” Mercer responded -with unshaken calm. “He is not.”</p> - -<p>“Where is he, then?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know, Colonel Winter. What I -should recommend is for you to go back to the -Palace, and if you do not find him there—why, -come and shoot us up again!” His eye strayed -for a second to the blackened, reeking mass on -the great stone hearth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>“Have you sent him home? Is that what you -mean to imply?”</p> - -<p>“I imply nothing, Colonel; I don’t dare to with -such strenuous fighters as you gentlemen; only -go and see, and if you do find the young gentleman -has had no ill treatment, no scare—only a -little adventure such as boys like, I hope you will -come out here, or wherever I may be, and have -that cigar you are refusing.”</p> - -<p>The colonel was frankly puzzled. He couldn’t -quite focus his wits on this bravado which had -nothing of the bravo about it, in fact had a tinge -of wistfulness in its quiet. One would have said -the man regretted his compulsory attitude of antagonism; -that he wanted peace.</p> - -<p>Mercer smiled faintly. “You ought to know -by this time when a man is lying, Colonel,” he -continued, “but I will go further. I may have -done plenty of wrong things in my life, some -things, maybe, which the law might call a crime; -but I have never done anything which would debar -me from passing my word of honor as a gentleman; -nor any one else from taking it. I give -you my word of honor that I have meant and I -do mean no slightest harm to Archie Winter; and -that, while I do not <i>know</i> where he is at this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> -speaking, I believe you will find him safe under -your aunt’s protection when you get back to the -Palace.”</p> - -<p>“Call up the Palace Hotel, Mr. Birdsall,” was -the colonel’s reply. “Mr. Mercer, I do not distrust -that you are speaking exactly, but you know -your Shakespeare; and there are promises which -keep their word to the ear but break it to the -sense.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t wonder at your mistake; but you are -mistaken, suh.”</p> - -<p>Birdsall was phlegmatically ringing up Mrs. -Winter, having the usual experience of the rash -person who intrudes his paltry needs on the complex -workings of a great hotel system.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t know the number, I haven’t the -book here, but <i>you</i> know, Palace Hotel. Well -give me Information, then—Busy? Well, give -me another Information, then—yes, I want the -Palace Hotel—P-a-l-a-c-e—yes, yes, Palace Hotel; -yes, certainly. Yes? Mrs. Archibald Winter. -Yes—line busy? Well, hold on until it is disengaged. -Say, Miss Furber, that you? This is -Birdsall and Gwen. Yes. Give me Mrs. Winter, -will you, 337? This Mrs. Winter? Oh! When -will she be back? Is Mrs. Melville Winter in?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -Well, Miss Smith in? She’s gone, too? Has Master -Archibald got back, yet, to the hotel? Hasn’t? -Thank you—eh?” in answer to the colonel’s interruption. -“What say, Colonel?”</p> - -<p>“Tell her to call up this number,”—the colonel -read it out of the telephone book—“when Master -Archie does get back, will you? I am afraid, Mr. -Mercer, that you will have to allow us to trespass -on your hospitality for a little longer.”</p> - -<p>He suspected that Mercer was annoyed, although -he answered lightly enough: “As you -please, Colonel Winter. I am sure you will hear -very soon. Now, there is another matter, your -machine; I understand you left it outside. Will -you ring for Kito, Colonel? Under the circumstances -you may prefer to do your own ringing. -I will ask him to attend to the car.”</p> - -<p>The colonel made proper acknowledgments. -He was thinking that had Mercer cared to confiscate -the motor, he would have done it without -ringing; on the other hand, did he desire some -special intercourse with his retainer, wherein, under -their very noses, he could issue his orders—well, -possibly they might get a whiff of the secret -themselves were he allowed to try. At present the -game baffled him. Therefore he nodded at Birdsall’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> -puckered face behind Mercer’s shoulder. -And he rang the bell.</p> - -<p>The Jap answered it with suspicious alacrity.</p> - -<p>“Kito,” said Mercer, “will you attend to General -Winter’s car? Bring it up to the court.”</p> - -<p>Absolutely harmless, to all appearances, but -Birdsall, from his safe position behind master and -man, looked shrewd suspicion at the soldier.</p> - -<p>“Shall your man in the hall go with him?” -asked Mercer.</p> - -<p>The colonel shook his head. “No,” he said -quietly, “we have other men outside if he needs -help. Call Skid, please.” But when Birdsall attempted -to get Central there was no response.</p> - -<p>The colonel merely shrugged his shoulders, although -Birdsall frowned with vexation. “What a -pity!” said Winter softly. “Now the fellows will -come when the time is up; we can’t call them off.”</p> - -<p>Mercer smiled faintly. “There are two more -telephones in the house,” he observed. “You can -call off your dogs easily any time you wish. Also -you can hear from the Palace. Will you come up-stairs -with me? I assure you I have not the least -intention to harm you or the honest sergeant.”</p> - -<p>“You take the first trick, Mercer,” said the colonel. -“I supposed the bell was your signal to have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> -the wires cut. But about going; no, I think we -will stay here. There is a door out on the court -which, if you will open—thank you. A charming -prospect! Excuse me if I send Haley out there; -and may I go myself?”</p> - -<p>Anticipating the answer, he stepped under the -low mission lintel into a fairy-like Californian -court or <i>patio</i> of pepper-trees and palms and a -moss-grown fountain. There was the usual colonnade -with a stone seat running round the wall. -Mercer, smiling, motioned to one of them. “I -wish I could convince you, Colonel, that you are -in no need of that plaything in your hand, and -that you are going to dine with your boy—isn’t -he a fine fellow?”</p> - -<p>The colonel did not note either his admission -that he had seen Archie, nor a curious warming -of his tone; he had stiffened and grown rigid like -a man who receives a blow which he will not -admit. He stole a glance at the detective and met -an atrocious smirk of complacency. They both -had caught a glimpse of a figure flitting into a -door of the court. They both had seen a woman’s -profile and a hand holding a little steel tool which -had ends like an alligator’s nose. And both men -had recognized Miss Smith.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX<br /> - -<small>THE AGENT OF THE FIRELESS STOVE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>The time was two hours later. Rupert Winter -was sitting on one of the stone benches of the -colonnade about the <i>patio</i>. The court was suffused -with the golden glow presaging sunset. -Warm afternoon shadows lay along the flags; -wavering silhouettes of leafage or plant; blurred -reflections from the bold bas-reliefs of Spanish -warriors and Spanish priests sculptured between -the spandrels of the arches. Winter’s dull eyes -hardly noted them: the exotic luxuriance of foliage, -the Spanish armor and Spanish cowls were -all too common to a denizen of a Spanish colony -in the tropics, to distract his thoughts from his -own ugly problem. He had been having it out -with himself, as he phrased it. And there had -been moments during those two hours, when he -had ground his teeth and clenched his fists because -of the futile and furious pain in him.</p> - -<p>When he recognized Janet Smith, by that same<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span> -illuminating flash he recognized that this woman -who had been tricking him was the woman that -he loved. He believed that he had said his last -word to love, but love, after seeming to accept the -curt dismissal, was lightly riding his heart again. -“Fooled a second time,” he thought with inexpressible -bitterness, recalling his unhappy married -life and the pretty, weak creature who had -caused him such humiliation. Yet with her -there had been no real wrong-doing, only absolute -lack of discretion and a childish craving for gaiety -and adulation. Poor child! what a woeful ending -for it all! The baby, the little boy who was -their only living child, to die of a sudden access -of an apparently trifling attack of croup, while -the mother was dancing at a post ball! He was -East, taking his examination for promotion. The -frantic drive home in the chill of the dawn had -given her a cold which her shock and grief left her -no strength to resist—she was always a frail little -creature, poor butterfly!—and she followed her -baby inside of a month. Had she lived, her husband -might have found it hard to forgive her, for -already a sore heart was turning to the child for -comfort; but she was dead, and he did not let his -thoughts misuse her memory. Now—here was another,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> -so different but just as false. Then, he -brought himself up with a jerk; he would be fair; -he would look at things as they were; many a man -had been fooled by the dummy. He would not -jump at conclusions because they were cruel, any -more than he would because they were kind. -There was such a thing, he knew well, as credulous -suspicion; it did more harm than credulous -trust. Meanwhile, he had his detail. He was to -find Archie; therefore, he waited. They were in -the house; it were only folly to give up their advantage -under the stress of any of Mercer’s plausible -lurings to the outside.</p> - -<p>Moreover, by degrees, he became convinced -that Mercer, certainly to some extent, was sincere -in his profession of belief in Archie’s absence and -safety. This, in spite of hearing several times that -Archie was not returned. Mercer did all the -speaking, but he allowed Birdsall to hold the receiver -and take the message from Mrs. Winter.</p> - -<p>The telephone was in an adjoining room, but -by shifting his position a number of times the -colonel was able to catch a murmur of the conversation. -He heard Mercer’s voice distinctly. He -had turned away and was following the detective -out of the room. “I don’t understand it any more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -than you do, Mr. Birdsall,” he said; “you won’t -believe me, suh, but I am right worried.”</p> - -<p>“Of course I believe you,” purred the detective -so softly that the colonel knew he did not believe -any more than Mercer suspected. “Of course I -believe you; but I don’t know what to do. It ain’t -on the map. I guess it’s up to you to throw a -little light. I’ve called the boys off twice already -and told ’em to wait an hour or a half-hour longer. -I got to see the colonel.”</p> - -<p>“I can trust my intuitions, or I can trust the -circumstantial evidence,” thought the colonel. He -jumped up and began to pace the court.</p> - -<p>“Seems to be like a game of bridge before one -can see the dummy,” he complained; and as so -often happens in the crises of life, a trivial illustration -struck a wavering mind with the force of -an argument. His thoughts reverted whimsically -to the card-table; how many times had he hesitated -over the first lead between evenly balanced -suits of four; and how often had he regretted or -won, depending solely upon whether his card instinct -had been denied or obeyed! It might be instinct, -this much-discussed “card instinct,” or it -might be a summing up of logical deductions so -swift that the obscure steps were lost, and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span> -reasoner was unconscious of his own logical processes. -“Now,” groaned Rupert Winter, “I am up -against it. She <i>looks</i> like a good woman; she -<i>seems</i> like a good woman; but I have only my -impressions and Aunt Rebecca’s against the apparent -facts in the case. Well, Aunt Rebecca is a -shrewd one!” He sat down and thought harder. -Finally he rose, smiling. He had threshed out his -problem; and his conclusion, inaudibly but very -distinctly uttered to himself, was: “Me for my -own impressions! If that girl is in with this gang, -either what they are after isn’t so bad—or they -have made her believe it isn’t bad.”</p> - -<p>He looked idly about him at the arched doorway -of the outer court. It was carved with a favorite -mission design of eight-pointed flowers -with vase-like fluting below. There was a tiny -crack in one of the flowers, the tiniest crack in -the world. He looked at it without seeing it, or -seeing it with only the outer half of his senses, -but—he could not have told how—into his effort -to pierce his own tangle there crept a sudden interest, -a sudden keenness of scrutiny of this minute, -insignificant crack in the stone. He became aware -that the crack was singularly regular, preserving -the form of the flower and the fluting beneath.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> -Kito, the Japanese, who was sitting at the far -end of the court, conversing in amity with Haley, -just here rose and came to this particular pillar. -The Irishman sat alone, rimmed by the sunset -gold, little spangles of motes drifting about him; -for the merest second Winter’s glance lingered -on him ere it went to the Jap, who passed him, -courteously saluting.</p> - -<p>After he had passed, the colonel looked again -at the column and the crack—it was not there.</p> - -<p>“<i>Chito, chito!</i>” muttered the colonel. Carelessly -he approached the column and took the -same posture as the Jap. Unobtrusively his fingers -strayed over the stone. He scratched the -surface; not stone, but cement. He tapped cautiously, -keeping his hand well hidden by his body; -no hollow sound rewarded him; but all at once -his groping fingers touched a little round object -under the bold point of an eight-pointed flower. -He didn’t dare press on it; instead he resumed his -cautious tapping. It seemed to him that the sound -had changed. He glanced about him. Save for -Haley he was alone in the <i>patio</i>. He pressed on -the round white knob, and what he had half expected -happened: a segment of the column -swung on inner hinges, disclosing the hollow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> -center of the engaged columns on either side. -He looked down. Nothing but darkness was visible, -but while he stood, tensely holding his breath, -his abnormally sensitive auricular nerve caught -distinctly the staccato breath of that kind of sigh -which is like a groan, and a voice said more wearily -than angrily: “Oh, damn it all!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Almost simultaneously, he heard the faint footfalls -of the men within; he must replace his -movable flower. The column was intact, and he -was bending his frowning brows on the stylobate -of another when Birdsall and Mercer entered -together, Mercer, with a shrug of his shoulders at -the detective’s dogged suspicion, preceding the -latter.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the colonel, “did you get my -aunt?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, suh, I got your aunt herself,” responded -Mercer, with his Virginian survival of the formal -civility of an earlier generation. “Yes, suh; but -I regret to say Archie is not there.”</p> - -<p>“Where is he?” The soldier’s voice was curt.</p> - -<p>“Honestly,” declared Mercer, “I wish I knew, -suh, I certainly <i>do</i>. But—” Mercer’s jaw fell; -he turned sharply at the soft whir of an electric<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> -stanhope gently entering the <i>patio</i> through the -great arched gateway. It stopped abreast of the -group, and its only occupant, a handsome young -man, jumped nimbly out of the vehicle. He greeted -them with a polite removal of his cap, a bow, -and a flashing smile which made the circuit of -the beholders. Birdsall and the colonel recognized -the traveling enthusiast of the Fireless -Stove.</p> - -<p>The colonel took matters into his own hands.</p> - -<p>“I think you’re the young gentleman who took -my nephew away,” said he. “Will you kindly -tell us where he is?”</p> - -<p>“And don’t get giddy, young gentleman,” -Birdsall chimed in, “because we know perfectly -well that you are <i>not</i> the agent of the Peerless -Fireless Stove.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got one here on trial, and I’ve come back -to see if they like it,” explained the young man, -in silken accents, but with a dancing gleam of the -eyes.</p> - -<p>“We are going to keep it,” said Mercer. -“Kito,” calling the unseen Jap, “fetch that Fireless -Stove this gentleman left us, and show it to -this gentleman here.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, cut it out!” Birdsall waved him off.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> -“It’s only ten minutes before our fellows will -come. You can put the police court wise with -all that. Try it on <i>them</i>; it don’t go with us.”</p> - -<p>“Where is the boy?” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Tell him, if you know,” said Mercer. “This -gentleman,” he explained, “left a stove with us -to test. He was here about it this morning, and we -gave Archie to <i>him</i> to take to the Palace Hotel.”</p> - -<p>“And he is there now,” said the young man.</p> - -<p>“Did you leave him there?” asked the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Yes, <i>did</i> you?” insisted Mercer.</p> - -<p>The young man looked from Mercer to the -other two men. There was no visible appeal to -the Southerner, but Winter felt sure of two -things: one, that the new-comer was Mercer’s -confederate whom he was striving to shield by -pretending to disavow; the other, that for some -reason Mercer was as anxious for the answer as -were they.</p> - -<p>“Why-y,” hesitated the stove promoter, “you -see, Mr.—ah, gentlemen, you see, I was told to -take the boy to the Palace Hotel, and I set out to -do it. We weren’t going at more than an eight-mile-an-hour -clip, yet some foozler of a cop -arrested us for speeding. It was perfectly ridiculous, -and I tried to shake him, but it was no use.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -They carried us off to a police court and stuck -me for ten dollars. Meanwhile my machine and -my passenger were outside. When I got outside -I couldn’t find them. I skirmished around, and -finally did get the machine. I’d taken the precaution -to fix it so it couldn’t be run before I -left it—took the key out, you know—it must -have been trundled off by hand somewhere!—but -I couldn’t find the boy. Naturally, I was a -bit worried; but after I had looked up the force -and the neighborhood, it occurred to me to ’phone -to the Palace. I did, and I was told he was there.”</p> - -<p>“Who told you?” The question came simultaneously -out of three throats.</p> - -<p>“Why, Mrs. Winter—that’s what she called -herself.”</p> - -<p>“But not three minutes ago Mrs. Winter told -me that he wasn’t there,” remarked Mercer coldly. -“<i>When</i> did you telephone?”</p> - -<p>“It was at least fifteen minutes ago,” the young -man said dolefully. “I say, wouldn’t you better -call them up again? There may be some explanation. -I shouldn’t have come back without the kid -if I hadn’t been <i>sure</i> he was safe.”</p> - -<p>“Was it Mrs. Melville or Mrs. Winter you -got?” This came from the colonel. “Did she by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span> -chance have an English accent, or was it Southern?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, not Southern,” protested the young -man. “Yes, I should say it was English—or trying -to be.”</p> - -<p>“It would be exactly like Millicent,” thought -the colonel wrathfully, “to try to fool the kidnappers, -who had apparently lost Archie, by pretending -he was at the hotel!”</p> - -<p>He made no comment aloud, but he nodded assent -to Mercer’s proposal to telephone; and then -he walked up to the stove man.</p> - -<p>“The game is up,” he said quietly. “We have -a lot of men waiting outside. If we signal, they -will come any minute; if we don’t signal, they -will come in ten minutes. Give us a chance to -be merciful to you. This is no kind of a scrape -for your father’s son—or for Arnold’s.”</p> - -<p>Shot without range though it was, Winter -was sure that it went home under all the young -fellow’s assumed bewilderment. He continued, -looking kindly at him:</p> - -<p>“You look now, I’ll wager, about as you used to -look in the office when you called on the dean—by -invitation—and were wondering just where -the inquiry was going to light!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>The dimple showed in the young man’s cheek. -“I admit,” he replied, “that I didn’t take advantage -as I should of my university opportunities. -Probably that is why I have to earn a strenuous -livelihood boosting the Only Peerless Fireless -Stove. By the way, have <i>you</i> ever seen the Fireless -in action? Just the thing for the army! Fills -a long-felt want. I should be very pleased to -demonstrate. We have a stove here.”</p> - -<p>The colonel grinned responsively. “You do it -very well,” said he. “Can’t you let me into the -game?”</p> - -<p>There was the slightest waver in the promoter’s -glance, although he smiled brilliantly as he -answered: “I’ll take it into consideration, but—will -you excuse me? I want to speak to Mr. Mercer -about the stove.”</p> - -<p>The moment he had removed his affable young -presence Birdsall approached his employer. It -had been a difficult quarter of an hour with the -detective. Vague instinct warned him not to touch -the subject of Miss Smith; he felt in no way assured -about anything else. The result had been -that he had fidgeted in silence. But the accumulated -flood could no longer be held.</p> - -<p>“I’ve found out one thing,” exploded Birdsall,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -puffing in the haste of his utterance. “The boy -is on the premises.”</p> - -<p>“Think so?” was all the colonel’s answer.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure of it. Say, I overheard Mercer talking -down a speaking-tube.”</p> - -<p>“What did he say?”</p> - -<p>“Talked French, damn him! But say, what’s -<i>gorge</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Throat.”</p> - -<p>“What’s <i>cupillo gorge</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Sure he wasn’t talking of a carriage, or did -he say <i>je le couperai la gorge</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Maybe. I wouldn’t swear to it. I don’t <i>parlez -français</i> a little bit.”</p> - -<p>“Did you hear any other noises? Where were -they?”</p> - -<p>Birdsall thought he had heard other noises, -and that they were down cellar. “And anyhow, -Colonel, I’m dead-to-rights sure those guys are -giving us hot stuff to get us out of the house. -I’m for getting our men in now and rushing the -house. It’s me for the cellar.”</p> - -<p>While the colonel was rolling Birdsall’s information -around in his mind, he heard the echo of -steps on the flagging which preceded Mercer and -the other man.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>There was that in the bearing and the look of -them that made the watcher, used to the signs of -decision on men’s faces, instantly sure that their -whole course of plans and action was changed.</p> - -<p>Mercer spoke first and in a low tone to the -colonel.</p> - -<p>“I have no right,” said he, “to ask so much -trust from you, but will you trust me enough -to step aside with this young man and me for a -moment only—out of ear-shot? I give you my -word of honor I mean no slightest harm to you. -I want to be frank. I will go alone if you desire.”</p> - -<p>The colonel eyed him intently for the briefest -space. “I’ll trust you,” said he. Then: “I think -you have the key to this queer mix-up. At your -service. And let your friend come, too. He is an -ingenuous sort, and he amuses me.”</p> - -<p>Birdsall looked distinctly sullen over the request -to wait, intimating quite frankly that his -employer was walking into a trap. “I won’t -stand here more than fifteen minutes,” he grumbled. -“I’ve given those fellows <i>poco tiente</i> long -enough.” But the colonel insisted on twenty minutes, -and reluctantly Birdsall acquiesced.</p> - -<p>Mercer conducted the others to the library.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> -When they were seated he began in his composed, -melancholy fashion:</p> - -<p>“I earnestly beg of you to listen to me, and -to believe me, for your nephew’s sake. I am going -to tell you the absolute truth. It is the only -way now. When you came, we handed him over -to this gentleman, exactly as we have said. I do -not know why he should have been stopped. I -do not know why he left the machine—”</p> - -<p>“Might he not have been <i>carried</i> away?” said -Winter.</p> - -<p>“He might; but I don’t know what motive—”</p> - -<p>“What motive had <i>you</i>? You kidnapped him!”</p> - -<p>“Not exactly. We had no intention of harming -him. He came accidentally into the room between -Mrs. Winter’s and Mr. Keatcham’s suites. -Standing in that room, trying to stanch the bleeding -of a sudden hemorrhage of the nose, he overheard -me and my friend—”</p> - -<p>“<i>You?</i>” asked the colonel laconically of the -young Harvard man.</p> - -<p>“I,” smilingly confessed the latter. “I am -ready to own up. You are a decent fellow, and -you are shrewd. You ought to be on our side, -not fighting us. I tell you, you don’t want to have -the boy turn up safe and sound any more than I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> -do. Mr. Mercer was talking to me, and the kid -overheard. We heard him and went into the -room—”</p> - -<p>“How?”</p> - -<p>“Knocked on the door and he opened it. And -we jumped on him. It was life and death for us -not to be blown on; so, as we didn’t wish to kill -the kid, and as we didn’t know the youngster well -enough to trust him <i>then</i>—although we might, -for he is game and the whitest chap!—but we -didn’t know—why, we just told him he would -have to stay with us a while until our rush was -over. That was all we meant; and we let him -’phone you.”</p> - -<p>“How about his great-aunt—the cruel anxiety—”</p> - -<p>“Anxiety nothing!” began the other man, but -a glance from Mercer cut him short.</p> - -<p>The Southerner took the word in his slow, gentle -voice. “I tried to reassure our aunt, Colonel -Winter. I think I succeeded. She telephoned and -I told her it was all right. As for Archie, -after we talked with him, he was willing enough -to go. He stole out with my friend inside of -five minutes, while you all were searching your -rooms. It was <i>he</i> insisted on calling you up, lest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -you should be worried. He said you were right -afraid of kidnappers, and you would be sending -the police after us. You can call Mrs. Winter up -and find out if I am not telling you the exact -facts.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, I <i>will</i>,” said Winter. They met -the sullen detective at the door. Cary Mercer, -with his mirthless smile, led the way. Mercer -rang up the hotel for Winter, himself. To the -colonel’s vast relief Aunt Rebecca answered the -call.</p> - -<p>“<i>Est-ce que c’est vous-même, mon neveu?</i>” -said she dryly.</p> - -<p>“<i>Mais oui, ma tante.</i> Why are you speaking -so formally in foreign tongues? Is Millicent on -deck?”</p> - -<p>“In her room,” came the answer, still in -French. “Well, you have got us in a pretty mess. -Where is my boy?”</p> - -<p>“I only wish I knew! Tell me now, though, is -Mercer’s story straight?”</p> - -<p>“Absolutely. You may trust him.”</p> - -<p>“What’s his real game, then? The one he was -afraid Archie would expose?”</p> - -<p>“Ask him.”</p> - -<p>“But <i>you</i> are in it, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>“Enough to ask that you abandon the chase—immediately! -Unless you wish to ruin me!”</p> - -<p>“You’ll have to speak plainer. I’ve been kept -in the dark as long as I can stand in this matter.”</p> - -<p>But before he could finish the sentence. -“<i>Pas ici, pas maintenant—c’est trop de péril</i>,” -she cried, and she must have gone, for he could -get no more from her. When he rang again, -Randall responded:</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Winter says, sir, will you please come -up here as quick as you can. She’s gone out. She -thought she caught sight of Mr. Archie on the -street.”</p> - -<p>To the colonel’s demand, “Where, how did -she see him?” he obtained no answer, and on his -vicious pealing of the bell there came, eventually, -mellow Anglican accents which asked: “Yes? -Whom do you wish to see?” It is an evidence of -the undisciplined nature of the sex that the soldier -made a face and—hung up the receiver.</p> - -<p>He found himself—although this to a really -open mind is no excuse—in a muddle of conflicting -impulses. He was on edge to get into the -street for the search after the boy; he was clutched -in a vise by his conviction that the clue to Archie’s -whereabouts lay in Mercer’s hands, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span> -that the Southerner meant no harm to the lad. -And all the while he could feel Birdsall tugging -at the leash.</p> - -<p>“It’s on the cards,” he grumbled, with a wry -face, “quite on the cards that he may bolt in spite -of me, and do some foolish stunt of his own that -will make a most awful muddle.”</p> - -<p>Not nearly so composed as he looked, therefore, -he turned to Mercer. However, his ammunition -was ready, and to Mercer’s inquiry, was he satisfied? -he replied calmly: “Well, not entirely. If -Archie isn’t in the house, <i>who</i> is it whose throat -you wish to cut? Who is hidden here?”</p> - -<p>It could not have been an unexpected question -or Mercer hardly had answered so readily: “You -know who it is,” said he. “It is Mr. Keatcham.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X<br /> - -<small>THE SMOLDERING EMBERS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>If Mercer’s avowal surprised the colonel, there -was no trace of such emotion in his face or his -manner. “I rather thought it might be,” he said. -“And our young friend who is promoting Fireless -Stoves with the solemn energy he learned doing -Dicky stunts?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Endicott Tracy.” Mercer had the manner -of a ceremonious introduction. Tracy flavored -the customary murmur of pleasure with his radiant -smile.</p> - -<p>“Pleased, I am sure,” said the colonel in turn, -bowing. “Your father, I suppose, is the president -of the Midland; and Mr. Keatcham will, I suppose, -not be able to prevent his reëlection to-morrow. -Is that the game?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Tracy’s son admitted that it might be.</p> - -<p>“Ah, very clever,” said the colonel, “very. -Any side-show, for example?”</p> - -<p>“I did not go into this for money.” Mercer’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> -level gaze did not relax, and he kept his dreary -eyes unflinchingly on Winter’s. A peculiar look -in the eyes recalled some tragic and alien memory, -just what, Rupert could not capture; it flitted -hazily through his thoughts ere the next words -drove it off. “Nevertheless, it is true that if we -win out I shall have enough to pay back to all -the people who trusted me the money they lost -when they were frightened into selling their stock -in the Tidewater, and your aunt and Mr. Tracy -stand to make money.”</p> - -<p>“How do you expect to make it?”</p> - -<p>“The M. and S. stock is away down because -of rumors Keatcham is likely to control it. When -it is settled it is not to be looted by him, the stock -will rise—we are sure of the ten points; we may -make twenty—”</p> - -<p>“And my aunt has financed your scheme, has -she?—paid all your expenses?”</p> - -<p>The Harvard man laughed out. “Our <i>expenses</i>? -Oh, yes, she has grub-staked us, all -right; but she has done a good deal more—she -has furnished more than half a million to us for -our gamble.”</p> - -<p>The colonel considered; then: “But why did -you keep him here so long beforehand?” said he.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>“It was not long beforehand,” said Mercer. -“The meeting was adjourned for a day—we -don’t know why—we fancy that his partners suspect -something. It is called for to-morrow, in -spite of their efforts to have it put off a week. -But we want more; we want to induce Keatcham -to vote his own stock for us, and to call off his -dogs himself.”</p> - -<p>“And you can’t force him to do it?”</p> - -<p>“We shall force him, easily enough,” returned -Mercer, “but we don’t trust him. We want his -private code book to be sure he is playing fair. -In fact, we have to have it, because nothing gets -any attention that isn’t, so to speak, properly introduced.”</p> - -<p>“And he will not give it to you?”</p> - -<p>“Says he has lost it.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he <i>has</i>,” mused the soldier. “But -now, all this is not my concern, except that I -have no right, as a soldier, even passively to aid -in breaking the laws. It is my duty to rescue and -free Mr. Keatcham.”</p> - -<p>But before he could speak further Mercer lifted -a hand in apologetic interruption. Would Colonel -Winter excuse him, but he must ask Mr. Tracy -to go back to the <i>patio</i> and have an eye on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -detective. Endicott only exchanged a single -glance before he obeyed. Mercer’s eyes followed -him. “It was not to be helped,” he said, half to -himself, “but I have been sorry more than once -that I had to take him into this.”</p> - -<p>Winter looked at him, more puzzled than he -wanted to admit to himself; indeed, he was rather -glad to have the next word come from Mercer.</p> - -<p>“I have a few things I want to say to you; -they go easier when we are alone—but won’t you -sit down?” When the colonel had seated himself -he went on: “I’d like to explain things a bit.”</p> - -<p>“I’d like to have you,” answered the soldier. -“I think you have the clue to Archie’s whereabouts -and don’t recognize it yourself; so put me -wise, as the slang goes.”</p> - -<p>Then, without preface, in brief, nervous sentences, -spoken hardly with a quiver of a muscle -or a wavering cadence of the voice, yet nevertheless -instinct with a deadly earnestness, Mercer -began to talk. He told of his struggling youth -on the drained plantation, mortgaged so that after -the interest was paid there was barely enough to -get the meagerest living for his mother and sister -and little brother; of his accidental discovery of -iron ore on the place; of his working as a common<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> -laborer in the steel mills; of his being “rooster,” -“strand-boy,” “rougher,” “heater,” “roller,” -during three years while he was waiting for his -chance; of his heart-draining toil; of his solitary -studies.</p> - -<p>“I never was the kind of fellow to make -friends,” he said, in his soft, monotonous voice, -“so I expect I was the fonder of my own kin. -I’d a mighty good mother, sir, and sister; and -there was Phil—my little brother. We were right -happy all together on the old place that’s been -in our family for a hundred years, and it was all -we asked to stay there; but it had every dollar -of mortgage it could stand, and the soil all worn-out, -needing all kinds of things; and I wish you -could have seen the makeshifts we had for machines! -I was blacksmith and carpenter and -painter—just sixteen, and not an especially -bright chap, but mighty willing to work; and my -mother and Sis and I—we did a heap. When I -stumbled on the ore I couldn’t be sure, but I -wrote to Aunt Rebecca Winter. She sent a man -down. He looked up things. It would take a heap -of money to work the mines, but it might be a -big thing. She paid off the mortgage and took -another. First to last, she’s been mighty kind to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span> -us. She would have done more had we let her. -So I went to Pittsburgh and learned my trade, -and I made enough to pay interest, and the people -at home got a fairly good living. When I was -twenty-one I was back home, and got a company -started and put up a mill. You know how those -things have to creep up. But there was ore, all -right, and I understood my business and taught -the hands. We’d a right sweet little mill. Well, -I don’t want to take up your time, suh. Those -next ten or twelve years were right hard work, -but they were happy, too. We prospered; we -helped the whole county prosper. We paid Aunt -Becky. We were in good shape. We went -through ’93 paying our dividends just as regular, -and making them, too, though we didn’t much -more—it was close sailing. But we were honest; -we made a mighty good article; and everybody -trusted us. Then came the craze for mergers, -and a number of us got together. Still we weren’t -very big, but we were big enough to be listed. -I didn’t want it, but some of the men thought it -was a terrible fine thing to be ‘Iron Kings.’ That -was how. Keatcham was looking over the country -for fish for his net; he somehow heard that here -was a heap of good ore and new mills. The first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> -intimation we had was his secretary coming as a -Northern invalid—why, he stayed at our house -because we were so sorry for him, the hotel being -in new hands and not right comfortable. He -seemed so interested in our mills, and bought -some stock, and sent presents to Phil and my -mother after he went.”</p> - -<p>“That was Keatcham’s private secretary, you -say?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, suh, Atkins. You met him on the train—as -sleek and deadly a little scoundrel as ever -got rich quick. Oh, he’s deep. Well, suh, you -know the usual process. Convinced of the value -of the property, Keatcham and one or two others -set out to buy it. They got little blocks of it -here and there. Then Atkins wrote me in confidence -that some men were after the controlling -interest and meant to squeeze us all out—offered -to lend me money to buy—of course, on a margin. -And I was plumb idiot enough to be tolled -into his trap! I, who had never speculated with -a dollar before, I didn’t borrow <i>his</i> money, but I -took all I could raise myself, and I bought -enough to be sure I could control the next election. -Then—the slump came, and after the slump -the long, slow crumbling. I controlled the election<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> -all right, of course, but before the next one -came I was ruined, and Keatcham put his own -men in. I went desperately to New York. I -didn’t know how to fight those fellows; it was a -new game. I didn’t find Atkins. Maybe because -that wasn’t his name when I had known him. I -was so sure that the property was good—as if -that mattered! As if anything mattered with -these gamblers who play with loaded dice and -dope the horses they bet against! Phil had all -his property in the mills; we all had. We mortgaged -the house; we had to, to protect our stock. -You know how the fight ended, and what happened -at Cambridge. That isn’t all. My wife—” -He stood a little straighter, and the light went -out of his eyes. “I told you I don’t make friends -easily, and I am not the kind of man women take -to; all the same, the loveliest girl in the South -loved me ever since I jumped over the mill-dam -to save her rag doll, once, when she was visiting -her aunt near us. I’d married, when we seemed -prosperous. Now, understand me, I don’t say -it was my ruin and Phil’s death that killed her -and the baby; she had pneumonia, and it may be -that seeing that paper by accident didn’t turn the -scale; but I do say that she had her last hours<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -embittered by it. That’s enough for me. When -I got home with—with Phil, she was dead.”</p> - -<p>“Tough,” said the colonel. He began to revise -his impressions of Mercer.</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t it?” the other asked, with a simplicity -of appeal that affected the listener more than anything -he had heard. He jumped out of his chair -and began pacing the room, talking more rapidly. -“You’re a <i>man</i>; you know what I wanted to do.”</p> - -<p>“Kill somebody, I suppose. <i>I</i> should.”</p> - -<p>“Just that. I ran Atkins to cover after a while -through Endicott Tracy. That boy is one of the -noblest fellows that ever lived; yes, suh. He was -going to help poor Phil, Phil’s room-mate had -told him. All those boys—look a-here, Colonel -Winter, if ever anybody talks to you about Harvard -fellows being indifferent—”</p> - -<p>“I shall tell him he can’t get under the American -surface. A Harvard boy will do anything on -earth for his friends.”</p> - -<p>“They were mighty good to me. It was Endy -found out about Atkins, just from my description -of him. I found out about Keatcham for myself. -And you are quite right—for a little while -I wanted to kill them both. Looked like I just -naturally <i>had</i> to kill them! But there was my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span> -mother. There was nobody to take care of her -but Sis and me, and a trial for murder is terribly -expensive. Of course, anybody can get off -who has got money and can spend it; but it takes -such an awful heap of money. And we were all -ruined together, for what little was left was all -in the company, and that promptly stopped paying -dividends. I couldn’t risk it. I had to wait. I -had to go to work to support my mother, to pay -Sis and her back, don’t you see? We came here. -I got a job, a well-paid one, too, through Endy’s -father, reporting on the condition of the mills—a -kind of examiner. And the job was for -Keatcham.”</p> - -<p>“Why did you take it? I know, though. You -did it to familiarize him with your appearance, -so that he would not be warned when your -chance came.”</p> - -<p>“How did you know that?”</p> - -<p>“A man I knew in the Philippines—a Filipino—was -wronged by a white man, who took his -wife and threw her aside when he tired of her. -The girl killed herself. Her husband watched -his chance for a year, found it at last—thanks -to that very fact that his victim wasn’t on guard -against him—and sent his knife home. He’d<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> -been that fellow’s servant. I picked the dead man -up. That Filipino looked as you looked a minute -ago.”</p> - -<p>“What became of the Filipino?” inquired his -listener.</p> - -<p>The colonel had not told the story quite without -intention. He argued subconsciously, that -if Mercer were a good sort under all, he would -have a movement of sympathy for a more cruelly -wronged man than he; if not, he would drive -ahead to his purpose, whatever that might be. -His keen eyes looked a little more gentle as he -answered: “He poisoned himself. The best way -out, I reckon. I should hate to have had him -shot after I knew the story. But there was really -no option. But I’m interrupting you. You did -your work well and won Keatcham’s confidence?”</p> - -<p>“He isn’t a very confiding man. I didn’t see -him often. My dealings were with Atkins. He -didn’t know that I had found him out; he thought -that he had only to explain his two names, and -expected gratitude for his warning, as he called -it. He is slimy; but I was able to repay a little -of my score with him. I was employed by more -than Keatcham, and I saw a good many industrial -back-yards. Just by chance, I came on a clue, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> -Endy Tracy and I worked it up together. Atkins -was selling information to Keatcham’s enemies. -We did not make out a complete case, but enough -of one to make Keatcham suspect him, and at -the right time. But that happened later—you see, -I don’t know how to tell a story even with so -much at stake.” He pulled out his handkerchief, -and Winter caught the gleam of the beads on his -sallow forehead. “It was this way,” he went on. -“At first I was only looking about for a safe -chance to kill him, and to kill that snake of an -Atkins; but then it grew on me; it was all too -easy a punishment—just a quick death, when his -victims had years of misery. I wanted him to -wade through the hell <i>I</i> had to wade through. -I wanted him to know <i>why</i> he was condemned. -Then it was I began to collect just the cases I -knew about—just one little section of the horrible -swath of agony and humiliation and poverty and -sin he and his crowd had made—the one I knew -every foot of, because I’d gone over it every night -I wasn’t so dead tired I <i>had</i> to sleep. God! do you -know what it is to have the people who used to -be running out of their houses just to say howdy -to you, curse you for a swindler or a fool or -turn out of one street and down the other not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> -to pass you? Did <i>you</i> ever have a little woman -who used to give you frosted cake when you were -a boy push her crape veil off her gray hair and -hand you the envelope with her stock, with your -handwriting on the envelope, and beg you—trying -so hard not to cry, ’twas worse than if she -had—beg you to lend her just half her interest -money—<i>and you couldn’t do it</i>? Did you—never -mind. I said I waded through hell. I <i>did!</i> Not I -alone—that was the worst—all the people that had -trusted me! And just that some rich men should -be richer. Why should <i>they</i> have the lion’s share? -The lion’s share belongs to the lion. <i>They</i> are -nothing but jackals. They’re meaner than jackals, -for the jackals take what the lion leaves, and -these fellows steal the lion’s meat away from -him. We made honest money; we paid honest -wages; folks had more paint on their houses -and more meat in their storehouses, and wore better -clothes Sunday, and there were more school-houses -and fewer saloons, and the negroes were -learning a trade instead of loafing. The whole -county was the better off for our prosperity, and -there isn’t a mill in the outfit—and I know what -I’m talking about—there isn’t a shop or a mine -that’s as well run or makes as big an output now<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -as it did when the old crowd was in. You find -it that way everywhere; and that’s what is going -to break things down. We saw to all the little -affairs; they were <i>our</i> affairs, don’t you know? -But Keatcham’s new men draw their salaries and -let things slide. Yet Keatcham is a great manager -if he would only take the time; only he’s too busy -stealing to develop his businesses; there’s more -money in stealing a railway than in building one -up. Oh, he isn’t a fool; if I could once get him -where he would <i>have</i> to listen, I know I could -make him understand. He’s pretty cold-blooded, -and he doesn’t realize. He only sees straight -ahead, not all round, like all these superhumanly -clever thieves; they have mighty stupid streaks. -Well, I’ve got him now, and it is kill or cure for -him. He can’t make a riffle. I knew I couldn’t -do anything alone; I had to wait. I had to have -stronger men than I am to help. By and by they -tried their jackal business on a real lion—on -Tracy. They wanted to steal <i>his</i> road. I got on -to them first. I see a heap of people in a heap of -different businesses—the little people who talk. -They notice all right, but they can see only their -own little patch. I was the fellow riding round -and seeing the township. I pieced together the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -plot and I told Endy Tracy. He wouldn’t believe -me at first, because his father had given Keatcham -his first start and done a hundred things for him. -To be sure, his father has been obliged as an honest -man to oppose Keatcham lately, but Keatcham -couldn’t mean to burn him out that way. But he -soon found that was precisely what Keatcham -did mean. Then he was glad enough to help me -save his father. The old man doesn’t know a -thing; we don’t mean he ever shall know. We let -him put up the best sort of a fight a man can with -his hands tied while the other fellow is free. <i>My</i> -hands are free, too. I don’t respect the damned -imbecile laws that let me be plundered any more -than they do; and since my poor mother died last -summer I am not afraid of anything; they <i>are</i>; -that’s where I have the choice of weapons. I tell -you, suh, <i>nobody</i> is big enough to oppress a desperate -man! Keatcham had one advantage—he -had unlimited money. But Aunt Rebecca helped -us out there. Colonel, I want you to know I didn’t -ask her for more than the bare grub-stake; it was -she herself that planned our stock deal.”</p> - -<p>“She is a dead game sport,” the colonel -chuckled. “I believe you.”</p> - -<p>“And I hope you don’t allow that I was willing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -to have her mix herself in our risks. She would -come; she said she wanted to see the fun—”</p> - -<p>“I believe you again,” the colonel assured him, -and he remembered the odd sentence which his -aunt had used the first night of their journey, -when she expressed her hankering to match her -wits against those of a first-class criminal.</p> - -<p>“We didn’t reckon on your turning up, or the -complication with Archie. I wish to God we’d -taken the boy’s own word! But, now you know -all about it, will you keep your hands off? That’s -all we ask.”</p> - -<p>“Well,”—the colonel examined his finger-nails, -rubbing his hands softly, the back of one over the -palm of the other—“well, you haven’t quite told -me all. Don’t, unless you are prepared to have it -used against you, as the policemen say <i>before</i> the -sweat-box. What did you do to Keatcham to get -him to go with you so like Mary’s little lamb?”</p> - -<p>“I learned of a little device that looks like a -tiny currycomb and is so flat and small you can -bind it on a man’s arm just over an artery. Just -press on the spring and give the least scratch, and -the man falls down in convulsions. I showed him -a rat I had had fetched me, and killed it like a -flash. He had his choice of walking out quietly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> -with me—I had my hand on his arm—or dropping -down dead. He went quietly enough.”</p> - -<p>“That was the meaning of his look at me, was -it?” Winter thought. He said only: “Did Endicott -Tracy know about that?”</p> - -<p>“Of course not,” Mercer denied. “Do you -reckon I want to mix the boy up in this more than -I have? And Arnold only knew I was trying -some kind of bluff game.”</p> - -<p>“I will lay odds, though,” the colonel ventured -in his gentlest tone, “that Mr. Samurai, as Haley -calls him, knew more. But when did you get rid -of Atkins?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Keatcham discharged him at Denver. I -met Mr. Keatcham here; it was arranged on the -train. We had it planned out. If that plan had -failed I had another.”</p> - -<p>“Neat. Very neat. And then you became the -secretary?”</p> - -<p>Mercer flushed in an unexpected fashion. “Certainly -not!” he said with emphasis. “Do you think -I would take his wages and not do the work faithfully? -No, suh. I assumed to be his secretary in -the office; that gave me a chance to arrange everything. -But I did it to oblige him. I never touched -a cent of his money. I paid, in fact, for our board<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> -out of our own money. It would have burned my -fingers, suh!”</p> - -<p>“And the valet? Was he in your plot? Don’t -answer if you—”</p> - -<p>“He was not, suh,” replied Cary Mercer. “He -is a right worthy fellow, and he thought, after he -had seen to the tickets—which he did very carefully—and -given them to me, he could go off on -the little vacation which came to him by his master -through me.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a little bit evasive. However, I haven’t -the right to ask you to give away your partners, -anyhow.” He was peering at Mercer’s face behind -his glasses, but the pallid, tired features returned -him no clue to the thoughts in the head -above them. “What have you done with Mr. -Keatcham?” he concluded suddenly.</p> - -<p>The question brought no change of expression, -and Mercer answered readily: “I put him off by -himself, where he sees no one and hears nothing. -I read a good deal about prisons and the most -effectual way of taming men, and solitary confinement -is recommended by all the authorities. -His meals are handed to him by—by a mechanical -device. He has electric light some of the time, -turned on from the outside. He has a comfortable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -room and his own shower-bath. He has comfortable -meals. And he is supplied with reading.”</p> - -<p>“Reading?” repeated the colonel, his surprise -in his voice.</p> - -<p>For the first time he saw Mercer smile, but it -was hardly a pleasant smile. “Yes, suh, reading,” -he said. “I have had type-written copies made of -all the cases which I discovered in regard to his -stealing our company. I reasoned that when he -would get absolutely tired of himself and his own -thoughts he would just naturally be <i>obliged</i> to -read, and that would be ready for him. He tore -up one copy.”</p> - -<p>“Hmn—I can’t say I wonder. What did you -do?”</p> - -<p>“I sent him another. I expected he would do -that way. After a while he will go back to it, because -it will draw him. He’ll hate it, but he will -want to know them all. I know his nature, you -see.”</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do with him?”</p> - -<p>“Let him go, after he does what we want and -promises never to molest any of us.”</p> - -<p>“But can you trust him?”</p> - -<p>“He never breaks his word,” replied Mercer -indifferently, “and besides, he knows he will be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> -killed if he should. He isn’t given to being scared, -but he’s scared of me, all right.”</p> - -<p>“What do you want him to do?”</p> - -<p>“Promise to be a decenter man and to let Mr. -Tracy alone in future; meanwhile, to send a wire -in his secret code saying he has changed his mind. -It will not surprise his crowd. He never confides -in them, and he expects them to obey blindly anything -in that code language. I reckon other telegrams -are just for show, and they don’t notice -them much.”</p> - -<p>The colonel took a turn around the room to -pack away this information in an orderly fashion -in his mind. Mercer waited patiently; he had said -truly that he was used to waiting. Perhaps he -supposed that Winter was trying the case in his -own mind; but in reality Rupert was seeking only -one clue, as little diverted from his purpose as a -bloodhound. He began to understand the man -whose fixed purpose had his own quality, but -sharpened by wrong and suffering. This man had -not harmed Archie; as much as his warped and -fevered soul could feel softer emotions, he was -kindly intentioned toward the lad. Who had carried -him away, then? Or was he off on his own -account, really, this time? Or suppose Atkins,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -the missing secretary discharged at Denver, coming -back for another appeal to his employer, finding -Keatcham gone, but, let one say, stumbling -on some trace of mystery in his departure; suppose -him to consider the chance of his having his -past condoned and a rosy future given him if his -suspicions should prove true and <i>he</i> should release -the captive—wouldn’t such a prospect spur on a -man who was as cunning as he was unprincipled? -Mightn’t he have watched all possible clues, and -mightn’t he have heard about Archie and plotted -to capture the child, thinking he would be easily -pumped? That would presuppose that Atkins -knew that Archie was at the Arnolds’ or—no, he -might only have seen the boy on the street; he -knew him by sight; the colonel remembered that -several times Archie had been with him in Keatcham’s -car. It was worth considering, anyhow. He -spoke out of his thoughts: “Do you think Keatcham -could have told the truth, and that code of -his be lost or stolen? Why couldn’t Atkins have -stolen it? He had the chance, and he isn’t hampered -by principle, you say.”</p> - -<p>Mercer frowned; it was plain the possibility -had its argument for him. “He might,” he conceded, -“but I doubt it. Why hasn’t he done something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> -with it? He hasn’t. They wouldn’t have -postponed that meeting if he had wired his proxy -and his directions in the code. He’d have voted -his employer’s stock. He’s got too much at stake. -I happen to know he thought it a sure tip to sell -short, and he has put almost all he has on it. You -see, Keatcham was banking on that; he knew it. -He thought Atkins wouldn’t dare give any of his -secrets away or go against him in this deal, because -they were in the same boat.”</p> - -<p>“Still, I reckon I’ll have to see Keatcham.”</p> - -<p>Mercer shook his head, gently but with decision. -“I hate to refuse you, Colonel, but unless -you promise not to interfere, it is impossible. But -I’ll gladly go with you to see if we can find any -trace of Archie. I’ll risk that much. And if you -will promise—”</p> - -<p>“Such a promise would be impossible to an officer -and a gentleman,” the colonel urged lightly, -smiling. “Besides, don’t you see I have all the -cards? I have only to call in my men. I’d hate to -do it, but if you force me, you would have no -chance resisting.”</p> - -<p>“We shouldn’t resist, Colonel, no, suh; your -force is overwhelming. But it would do no good; -you couldn’t find him.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>“We could try; and we may be better sleuths -than you imagine.”</p> - -<p>“Then it would be the worse for him; for if you -find him, you will find him dead.”</p> - -<p>There was something so chilling in his level -tones that Winter broke out sharply: “Are you -fooling with me? Have you been such an incredible -madman as to kill him already?”</p> - -<p>Mercer’s faint smile made the colonel feel boyish -and impetuous. “Of course not, suh,” he answered. -“I told you he was alive, myself. I reckoned -you knew when a man is lying and when he -is telling the solemn truth. You <i>know</i> I have told -you the truth and treated you on the square. But, -just the same, if you try to take that man away, -you’ll only have his dead body. He can’t do any -more harm then, and a dead man can’t vote.”</p> - -<p>The colonel, who had taken out his cigarette case, -opened it and meditatively fingered the rubber -band. “Do you reckon,” he suggested, in his -most amiable voice, “do you reckon young Arnold -and Endicott Tracy will stand for such frills -in warfare as assassination?”</p> - -<p>“I do not, suh,” replied Mercer gravely, and as -he spoke he pushed back the heavy tapestry hiding -a window opposite the colonel’s head, “but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> -they can both prove an alibi. Mr. Arnold is in -Pasadena, and there goes Mr. Tracy now in his -machine—to try to find Archie. Do you see?”</p> - -<p>The colonel saw. He inclined his head, at the -same time proffering his case.</p> - -<p>“I rather think, Mr. Mercer, that I was wrong. -<i>You</i> have the last trump.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI<br /> - -<small>THE CHARM OF JADE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>It was no false lure to distract pursuit, that hurried -sentence of Randall’s which had met the colonel’s -angry appeal for information. The woman -was not only repeating Mrs. Winter’s message; -the message itself described a fact. As she stood -at her room telephone, Aunt Rebecca had happened -to glance at Randall, supplementing the perfunctory -dusting of the hotel maid with her own -sanitary, dampened, clean cloth; Randall’s eyes -suddenly glazed and bulged in such startling transformation -that, instead of questioning her, Mrs. -Winter stepped swiftly to the window where she -was at work, to seek the cause of her agitation.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Lord! Oh, Mrs. Winter!” gasped Randall. -“Ain’t <i>that</i> Master Archie?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Winter saw for herself; the face at a cab -window, the waving of a slim hand—Archie’s -face, Archie’s hand. Brief as was the Space of his -passing (for the two horses in the cab were trotting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span> -smartly), she was sure of both. “Give me my -bonnet,” she commanded, “<i>any</i> bonnet, <i>any</i> -gloves! And my bag with some money!”</p> - -<p>It was as she flung through the door that she -threw her message to the colonel back exactly as -Randall had submitted it. Miss Smith was coming -along the loggia. “Don’t stop me!” said Mrs. -Winter sternly. “I’ve seen Archie; I’m after -him.”</p> - -<p>“Stop!” cried Miss Smith—but it was to the -elevator boy who was whizzing below them in his -cage, not to her employer; and she boarded the -elevator with the older woman. “I’ll go with -you,” she said. There was no vibration in her -even tones, although a bright red flickered up in -her cheek.</p> - -<p>But Rebecca Winter caught savagely at her -breath, which was coming fast. “It is not with -the running; you needn’t think it, Janet,” she -panted sharply, in a second. “It was the sight of -his face—so suddenly; I never expected <i>any</i> face -would make my heart pump like that again. All -of which shows”—she was speaking quite naturally -and placidly again—“that women may grow -too old for men to make fools of them, but never -for children. Come; it was a shabby sort of hack<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> -he was in, drawn by two horses with auburn tails. -Here’s the office floor.”</p> - -<p>Not a word did Janet Smith say; she was not a -woman of words in any case. Moreover, the pace -which Mrs. Winter struck was too rapid for comments -or questions; it swept them both past the -palm-shaded <i>patio</i> into the side hall, out on the -noisy, dazzling, swaying street. Looking before -her, Miss Smith could see the dusty body of a -hack a block away. Mrs. Winter had stepped up -to a huge crimson motor-car, in the front seat of -which lounged the chauffeur, his forehead and -eyes hunched under his leather visor. The machine -was puffing, with the engine working, ready -to leap forward at a touch of the lever.</p> - -<p>“Twenty dollars an hour if you let me get in -now!” said Mrs. Winter, lightly mounting by his -side as she spoke.</p> - -<p>“Hey, me? what!” gurgled the chauffeur, -plucked out of a half-doze. “Oh, say, beg your -pardon, lady, but this is hired, it belongs—”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care to whom it belongs, I have to have -it,” announced Mrs. Winter calmly. “Whoever -hired it can get another. I’ll make it all right. -You start on and catch that hack with the auburn-tailed -horses—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>“<i>I’ll</i> make it right with your fare!” Miss Smith -cut in before the chauffeur could answer. “It’s a -case of kidnapping. You catch that cab!” She -was standing on the curb, and even as she spoke -an elderly man and his wife came out of a shop. -They stared from her to the automobile, and in -their gaze was a proprietary irritation. This was -instantly transfused by a more vivid emotion. The -woman looked shocked and compassionate. “Oh, -pa!” she gasped, “did you hear <i>that</i>?”</p> - -<p>The man was a country banker from Iowa. He -had a very quick, keen eye; it flashed. “Case of -kidnapping, hey?” snapped he, instantly grasping -the character of the speakers and jumping at the -situation. “Take the auto, Madam. Get a move -on you, Mr. Chauffeur!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m moving, all right,” called the chauffeur, -as he skilfully dived his lower wheels under -the projecting load of a great wagon and obliquely -bumped over the edge of a street-car fender, pursued -by the motorman’s curses. “I see ’em, lady; -I see the red tails; I’ll catch ’em!”</p> - -<p>His boast most likely had been made good -(since for another block they bore straight on -their course) but for an orange-wagon which had -been overturned. There was a rush of pursuit of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -the golden balls from the sidewalk; a policeman -came to the rescue of traffic and ordered everything -to halt until the cart was righted. The boys -and girls in the street chased back to the sidewalk. -The episode took barely a couple of minutes, but -on the edge of the last minute the cab turned a -corner. The motor-car turned the same corner, -but saw no guiding oriflamme of waving red -horsehair. The cross street next was equally bare. -They were obliged to explore two adjacent highways -before they came upon the hack again. This -time it was in distant perspective, foreshortened to -a blur of black and a swish of red. And even as -they caught sight of it the horses swung round -into profile and turned another corner. In the -turn a man wearing a black derby hat stuck his -arm and head out of the window in order to give -some direction to the driver. Then he turned half -around. It was almost as if he looked back at his -pursuers; yet this, Mrs. Winter argued, hardly -could be, since he had not expected pursuit, and -anyhow, the chances were he could not know her -by sight.</p> - -<p>It was a mean street, narrow and noisome, but -full of shipping traffic and barred by tramways—a -heartbreaking street for a chase. The chauffeur<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> -was a master of his art; he jumped his great craft -at every vacant arm’s-length; he steered it through -incredibly narrow lanes; he progressed sometimes -by luffs, like a boat under sail when the forward -passage must be reached in such indirect fashion; -but the crowd of ungainly vehicles, loaded dizzily -above his head, made the superior speed of the -motor of no avail. In spite of him they could see -the red tails lessening. Again and yet again, the -hack turned; again, but each time with a loss, the -motor struck its trail. By now the street was -changed; the dingy two-story buildings lining it -were brightened by gold-leaf and vermilion; oriental -arms and garbs and embroidery spangled -the windows and oriental faces looked inscrutably -out of doorways. There rose the blended odors -of spice, sandalwood and uncleanliness that announce -the East, reeking up out of gratings and -puffing out of shops.</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Mrs. Winter softly to herself, “Chinese -quarter, is it? Well.” Her eyes changed; -they softened in a fashion that would have amazed -one who only knew the surface of Mrs. Winter, -the eccentric society potentate. She looked past -the squalid, garish scene, past the shining sand-hills -and the redwood trees, beyond into a stranger<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> -landscape glowing under a blinder glare of sun. -Half mechanically she lifted a tiny gold chain that -had slipped down her throat under the gray gown. -Raising the yellow thread and the carven jade -ornament depending therefrom, she let it lie outside -amid the white lace and chiffon.</p> - -<p>“We’re making good now,” called the chauffeur. -“Will I run alongside and hail ’em, or -what?”</p> - -<p>She told him quietly to run alongside. But her -lips twitched, and when she put up her hand to -press them still, she smiled to discover that the -hand was bare. She had forgotten to pull on her -glove. She began to pull it on now.</p> - -<p>“The road is narrow,” said she. “Run ahead -of the hack and block its way. You can do it -without hitting the horses, can’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I guess,” returned the chauffeur, instantly -accomplishing the manœuver in fine style.</p> - -<p>But he missed his deserved commendation; indeed, -he forgot it himself; because, as he looked -back at the horses rearing on the sudden check -and tossing their auburn manes, then ran his scrutiny -behind them to the hack, he perceived no life -in it; and when his own passenger jumped with -amazing nimbleness from her seat and flung the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -crazy door wide open, she recoiled, exclaiming: -“Where are they? Where did you leave them?”</p> - -<p>“Leave who?” queried the hackman. “Say, -what you stoppin’ me fur? Runnin’ into me with -your devil-wagon! <i>Say!</i>”—then his wrath trailed -into an inarticulate mutter as he appreciated better -the evident quality of the gentlewoman before -him.</p> - -<p>“You may be mixed up in a penitentiary offense, -my man,” said she placidly. “It is a case -of kidnapping. Where did you leave that boy -who was in the cab? If you give us information -that will find him, there’s five dollars; if you fool -us—well, I have your number. Where did you -leave the boy?”</p> - -<p>“Why, there was a cop with ’im—a cop and -a gentleman. Ain’t you got hold of the wrong -party, lady?”</p> - -<p>“A brown-haired boy in a gray suit with a blue -cravat—you know he was in your cab. And how -do you know it was a real policeman?”</p> - -<p>“Or he wasn’t helping on the deviltry if it -was?” sneered the chauffeur, who had now become -a full-fledged partizan. “Ain’t you lived in -this burg long enough to find out how to make a -little <i>mazuma</i> on the side? You’re too good for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -’Frisco. Heaven is your home, my Christian -friend.”</p> - -<p>“Cut it out!” retorted the man. “I guess I -know how to find my way round as well as the -next man—”</p> - -<p>“Certainly you do,” soothed Mrs. Winter, who -was fingering a crisp new five-dollar bank-note, -“and you are no kidnapper, either; you made no -bargain with those men—”</p> - -<p>“Sure I didn’t,” agreed the hackman, “nor I -ain’t standin’ for kidnapping, neither. Why, I got -kids of my own, and my woman she’d broom me -outer the house if I was to do them games. Say, -I’ll tell you all I knows. They got off, them three, -at that there corner, and I was to drive fast ’s I -could three blocks ahead and then git home any -old way. And that’s God’s truth, I—”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t see where they went?” Mrs. Winter -was quietly insistent.</p> - -<p>“No, I didn’t. I guess I was a dumb fool not -ter notice, but they paid me well, and I’d a bad -thirst, and I was hiking to a place I know for -beer; and that’s—”</p> - -<p>“Did the boy seem willing?”</p> - -<p>“He didn’t do no kicking as I seen.”</p> - -<p>A few more questions revealed that the man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> -had unpacked his full kit of information. He had -never seen either of the men before. The gentleman—yes, -he was sure he was a gentleman; he -wasn’t no swell confidence guy; he was the regular -thing—gentleman engaged him to take a party -to the Chinese quarter; he’d tell where to stop; -didn’t need a guide; only wanted to make a few -purchases, he said, and he knew where the things -was; yes, ma’am, that was all; only down there -on Market Street, or maybe—why, somewhere -near by—he stuck his head out and told him to -turn the corner, and then he kept telling him to -turn corners, until finally he told him to stop and -they got out.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Winter gave the man the bank-note, counseling -him to keep his eyes open for the two men -and the boy, and to report to her at the Palace -Hotel, giving his number, should he see either -man or boy. It would be very well worth his -while.</p> - -<p>The chauffeur did not interrupt, but he shook -his head over the departing hack. “He’d ought to -have known it wan’t on the square, but these hack -drivers ain’t got good sense even when they’re, so -to speak, sober, which ain’t often,” he soliloquized. -“Well, lady, if they’ve took to the Chinese<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -quarter, we’d better be looking up a Chink -to help us, I guess. I know a fairly decent one—”</p> - -<p>“I think I know a better,” interrupted Mrs. -Winter, with a faint smile. She had detected a -suppressed pity in the man’s regard. “Motor -slowly along the street. There is a shop, if I can -find it, where there ought to be a man—”</p> - -<p>“Man you know? Say, lady, I guess I better go -in with you, if you don’t mind—”</p> - -<p>“No; stay in your car. You don’t know how -safe I am. Not only my gray hair protects me, -but I have only to say a few words and any of -these men will fight for me if necessary. But this -is in confidence—just between us, you understand. -You are not to repeat it, ever.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him with a frank smile, and involuntarily -his hand went up to his cap. “What -you say goes, lady. But jest remember I’m right -here, spark going all the time, ready to throw her -wide open when you step in; and”—his voice -sank—“I ain’t absolutely unprepared for a scrap, -either.”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said she, looking at him -keenly, and a few moments later she stepped -briskly into the shop before which he halted with -a little lightening of the heart because of this uncouth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -knight of the lever. The shop itself was -like any one of a score on the street, crowded -with oriental objects, bizarre carvings of ivory -and jade, daggers and strings of cash, swords, -gorgeous embroidered robes of silk and gold in a -huddle over a counter or swinging and gleaming -in the dusky background, squat little green and -brown gods with puffy eyelids, smiling inscrutably -amid shoes and fans and Chinese lanterns of glass -and bronze, glittering with beads—in all these, -like the score about it; yet the clean windows and -a certain order within gave it a touch out of the -common. A man and a boy served the shop, both -in the American dress, with their pigtails tucked -under visorless caps. Both greeted her in the -serene oriental fashion, bowing and smiling, their -obsequious courtesy showing no smallest sign of -the surprise which the sight of an unattended -woman must have given them.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, Mrs. Winter was aware that both, -under their lowered eyelids, took cognizance of -that soft-carven disk of jade among the laces on -her breast. She asked the man if he had seen a lad -and an older man, or it might be two older men, -one a policeman, come into that or any other -neighboring shop. She explained that the lad was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> -her grand-nephew and was lost (she eschewed the -harsher word, for she had no desire to set afloat a -rumor which might bring the police upon her). -She named a sum large enough to kindle a sudden -gleam in the boy’s eyes, as the reward awaiting -the lucky man who might put her on the right -track. But her words struck no responsive spark -from the Chinaman’s veiled gaze. In perfect -English and a very soft voice he avowed ignorance -and sympathy with the same breath.</p> - -<p>And all the while she could feel his glance slant -down at the jade ornament.</p> - -<p>“Send the boy to look in the shop next door,” -said she. As she spoke she raised the charm between -her thumb and first two fingers, looking at -him directly. Her tone was that of command, not -request. He frowned very slightly, making an almost -imperceptible gesture, to which she returned -a single Chinese phrase, spoken so low that had -he not expected the words they had been indistinguishable -to his ear. Instantly he addressed the -boy rapidly in their own language. The boy went -out. The master of the shop returned to Mrs. -Winter. His manner had utterly changed; the -tradesman’s perfunctory deference was displaced -by an almost eager humility of bearing. He would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> -have her sit—there were a few cane-seated American -arm-chairs, in grotesque contrast to all their -accompaniments—he prostrated himself before -her; he put himself at her service; still to her -trained eye there was a corner of his mind where -incredulity wrestled with a stronger emotion.</p> - -<p>“Do not fear,” she said gently. “It is really my -own, and he gave it to me himself, almost thirty -years ago. He was hardly thirty years old himself -then. You see, my husband had been so fortunate -as to do him a kindness. It was he who -had it first. When he died it came to me, and now -for the second time in my life I am using it. I -knew you belonged. I saw the sign. Will you -help me find my boy?”</p> - -<p>“Did your ladyship know <i>he</i> is he’e, in San -Flancisco?”</p> - -<p>If she had not already dissipated any doubt in -his mind, her evident relief blew the last shred -away now. “Haven’t you such a thing as a telephone -somewhere?” cried Rebecca Winter. “Time -is precious. Can’t you speak to him—have him -come here?”</p> - -<p>It appeared that there was a telephone, and in -a moment she was put into communication by the -shopkeeper. He stood in an attitude of deep respect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span> -while she talked. He heard with unsmiling -attention her first Chinese words; he listened as -she returned to English, speaking very quietly, -but with a controlled earnestness, explaining that -she was Archibald Winter’s widow, giving dates -and places, in nowise alluding to the service which -had won the charm about her neck. Yet as he listened, -insensibly the Chinaman grew certain that -she had spoken the truth. Presently she turned to -him. “He wishes to speak to you,” she said, and -went back to the shop. She sighed as one sighs -from whose heart a great burden rolls. “To find -him here, and still grateful!” she was thinking. -“What wonderful good fortune!”</p> - -<p>She sat down, and her face grew dreamy. She -was no longer thinking of Archie. Her vision was -on another face, another scene, a time of peril, -when almost against her reason her instinctive -woman’s recoil of pity for a fellow-creature in -danger of unthinkable torture had been so intense -that she had more than acquiesced in her husband’s -plan of risking both their lives to save him; -she had impelled him to it; she had overcome his -terror of the risks on her account. “It is only -death we have to fear, at worst,” she had argued. -“We have the means to escape in a second, both<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> -of us, from anything else; and if we run away -and leave this poor wretch, who hasn’t done anything -but love his country, just as we love ours, -and be too civilized for his trifling, ornery, pusillanimous -country-people to understand, to get -slashed to pieces by their horrible ling-ling—whatever -they call it—Archibald Winter, don’t -you reckon we shall have nightmares as long as -we live?”</p> - -<p>Thirty years ago—yet it seemed like yesterday. -Distinctly she could hear her husband’s voice; it -had not come back to her with such reality for -years; it was more real than the cries of the street -outside; and her heart was beating faster for his -words: “Becky, there never was a woman like -you! You could make a dead man hop up and -fight, bless you!”</p> - -<p>“Your ladyship”—it was the shopkeeper back -again; he had lived in England, and he offered -the most respectful western title of his knowledge—“your -ladyship may be chee’ful. All will be -done of the best. The young gentleman will be -back fo’ to-night. If your ladyship will now letu’n -to the hotel.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_211fp.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">It took only a moment to transfer a passenger. Page <a href="#Page_211">211</a></p> - -<p>Mrs. Winter bowed slightly; she was quite her -self-possessed self again. “I will go certainly,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span> -she said, “but I shall hope to see you, also, to-night; -and meanwhile, will you accept, as a token -from a friend who trusts you, <i>this</i>?” She took a -little gem-encrusted watch from her fob and -handed it to him. Her manner was that of a -queen who rewards her general. And she left -him bowing low. She entered the motor-car. It -was no longer a lone motor. Another car steamed -and snorted near by, in which sat the amiable -banker from Iowa, his wife and Janet Smith.</p> - -<p>It took only a moment to transfer a passenger, -to explain that she hoped to find the boy who had -been lost—no, she would not use such a strenuous -word as kidnapped—and would they complete -their kindness by not mentioning the affair to any -one? One hated so to get into the papers. And -would they let her see them again to thank them? -Then, as she sank back on the cushions, she remarked, -as much to the expectant chauffeur as to -Janet: “Yes, I think it is all right. I think we -shall see Archie to-night.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII<br /> - -<small>A BLOW</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>There was no one but Mrs. Winter to welcome -the colonel when, jaded, warm and dusty, he -tapped on Aunt Rebecca’s parlor door. Mrs. Millicent -was bristling with a sense of injury; one -couldn’t touch her conversationally without risk -of a scratch. The colonel put up the shield of his -unsuitable appearance, his fatigue and his deplorable -need of a bath, and escaped into his own -apartment. But he made his toilet with reckless -haste. All the time he was questioning his recent -experience, trying to sort over his theories, which -had been plunged into confusion by Mercer’s confession. -“I suppose,” he reflected, “that I had no -right to give Mercer that hint at the door.” The -hint had been given just as they parted. It was -in a single sentence:</p> - -<p>“By the way, Mercer, if that pillar in the <i>patio</i> -is of importance in your combination, you would -better keep an eye on it; it has a trick of cracking.”</p> - -<p>“The devil it has!” grunted Mercer. Then he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> -thanked him, with a kind of reluctant admiration -in his tone.</p> - -<p>“You are sure you don’t object to my detective’s -staying?” questioned the colonel.</p> - -<p>“No, suh; prefer to have him. You told him to -have his men in and overhaul the house?”</p> - -<p>“I did. I warned you I should have to. You -promise there shall be no racket? But I—I think -I’ll take Haley.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you. That’s right kind of you, suh. -Good-by, suh.”</p> - -<p>This had been the manner of their parting—assuredly -a singular one, after the sinister suspicions -and the violent promises which the soldier had -made himself in regard to this very man. After -leaving, he had motored into town, down to -the police courts, to discover no records of the -arrest and no trace of Archie. Thence, discouraged, -perplexed and more worried than he liked -to admit, he had repaired to the hotel. His aunt -was gone, Miss Smith was gone, and Randall -could only relate how Mrs. Winter “had flewed -like a bird, sir, into a big red motor-car and gone -off, and then Miss Smith and a lady and gentleman -had got into a white car and gone off in the -same direction.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>He was meditating on his next step, when Birdsall -was announced below. The detective looked -as warm and as tired as the colonel had felt an -hour before. Rupert was not eager to see him, -but neither was he anxious for the tête-à-tête with -Millicent which awaited him in the parlor. Between -the two he chose Birdsall.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he greeted him, “did you find any trace -of the boy?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I did,” growled Birdsall. “They -didn’t try to hide ’im. They had him lodged in a -dandy room with his own bath. Of course, he -left his tooth-brush. They’d got him some automobile -togs, too, and he’d left some leggings when -he packed, and a letter begun on a pad to Miss -Smith—‘Dear Miss Janet,’ it begins, ‘I am having -a bully time. I can steer the machine, only I -can’t back’—that’s all. Say, the young dog has -been having it fat while we were in the frying-pan -for fear somebody was bothering him.”</p> - -<p>“But he is not in the house now?”</p> - -<p>“No, nor nothing else.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Nobody</i> hidden away? Where did the groans -you heard come from?” queried the colonel -politely.</p> - -<p>Birdsall flushed. “I do believe that slick deceiver<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span> -you call Mercer put up a game on us out -of meanness—just to git me guessing.”</p> - -<p>“That sort of thing looks more like the college -boys.”</p> - -<p>“Say, it might have been. This thing is giving -me nervous prostration. Say, why didn’t you see -the thing out with me?”</p> - -<p>The colonel shamelessly told the truth to deceive. -“I was called here. I was told that Mrs. -Winter, my aunt, had seen Archie in the street.”</p> - -<p>“She was just getting out of a machine as I -came up. Miss Smith was with her, and they had -their hands full of candy boxes. They were -laughing. I made sure the boy had been found.”</p> - -<p>“Not to my knowledge,” said the colonel. But -in some excitement he walked into the parlor. -The ladies had arrived; they stood in the center -of the room while Randall took away the boxes.</p> - -<p>“Candy for Archie,” explained Aunt Rebecca, -and these were the first words to reach Rupert -Winter’s ears. “I expect him to dinner.”</p> - -<p>“Aunt Rebecca,” proclaimed Millicent, “I never -have been one to complain, but there <i>are</i> limits to -human endurance. I am a modern person, a civilized -Episcopalian, accustomed to a regular and -well-ordered life, and for the last few days I seem<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span> -to have been living in a kind of medieval mystery, -with kidnappers, and blood-stains, and, for anything -I know, somebody ready to stick a knife into -any one of us any time! You people may enjoy -this sort of thing—<i>you seem to</i>—but I don’t. -And I tell you frankly that I am going to apply -to the police, not to any private detective inquiry -office, as like as not in league with the criminals”—thus -ungratefully did Mrs. Millicent slur the -motives of her only truly interested auditor—“but -<i>real</i> policemen. I shall apply—”</p> - -<p>She did not tell where she should apply, the -words being snapped out of her mouth by the -sharp tinkle of the telephone bell.</p> - -<p>Aunt Rebecca responded to the call. “Send him -up,” was her answer to the inaudible questioner.</p> - -<p>She laid down the receiver. Then she put it -back. Then she stood up, her silver head in the -air, her erect little figure held motionless.</p> - -<p>Janet Smith’s dark eyes sought hers; her lips -parted only to close firmly again.</p> - -<p>Even the detective perceived the electric intensity -of the moment, and Rupert shut his fists -tight, with a quickened beating of the heart; but -emotional vibrations did not disturb Mrs. Melville -Winter’s poise. She continued her plaint.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>“This present situation is unbearable, unprecedented -and un—un—unexpected,” she declaimed, -rather groping for a climax which escaped her. -Aunt Rebecca raised her hand.</p> - -<p>“Would you be so very kind, Millicent,” said -she, “as to wait a moment? I am trying to listen.”</p> - -<p>Like a response to her words, the knob of the -door was turned, the door swung, and Archie entered -the room, smiling his odd little chewed-up -smile.</p> - -<p>Janet uttered a faint cry and took a single step, -but, as if recognizing a superior right, hung back -while the boy put his arm about his great-aunt’s -waist and rather bashfully kissed her cheek.</p> - -<p>She received the salute with entire composure, -except for a tiny splash of red which crept up to -each cheek-bone. “Is it really you, Archie?” said -she. “You are a little late for dinner day before -yesterday, but quite in time for to-day. Sit down -and tell us where you have been.”</p> - -<p>“Quite so!” exclaimed Mrs. Millicent. “Good -heavens! Do you know how we have suffered? -<i>Where</i> have you been? <i>Why</i> did you run away?”</p> - -<p>But Archie, who had surrendered one-half of -him to be hugged by Miss Smith and the other to -be clapped on the shoulder by his uncle, seemed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span> -to think a vaguely polite “How-de-do, Aunt Millicent; -I’m sorry to have worried you!” to be answer -enough. Only when the question was repeated -by Mrs. Winter herself did he reply: “I’m -awfully sorry, Aunt Rebecca, but I’ve promised -not to say anything about it. But, truly, I didn’t -mean to bother you.”</p> - -<p>Millicent exploded in an access of indignation: -“And do you mean that you expect us to accept -such a ridiculous promise—after all we have been -through?”</p> - -<p>“Quite so,” remarked Aunt Rebecca, with a -precise echo of her niece’s most Anglican utterance—the -gift of mimicry had been one of Mrs. -Winter’s most admired and distrusted social gifts -from her youth.</p> - -<p>Rupert Winter hastened to distract Millicent’s -attention by saying decisively: “If the boy has -promised, that ends it; he can’t break his parole. -Anyhow, they don’t seem to have hurt you, old -son?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, they treated me dandy, those fellows,” -said Archie. “Miss Janet, I know how to run an -electric motor-car, except backing.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet you do,” muttered the detective.</p> - -<p>Here the colonel came to the boy’s relief a second<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> -time and drew Birdsall aside. “Best let me -pump the chap a little. You get down-stairs and -see how he got here, who brought him. They’ll -get clean away. It is late for that as it is. You -can report to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>It was the colonel, also, who eliminated Mrs. -Millicent by the masterly stratagem of suggesting -that she pass the news to Mrs. Wigglesworth. He -artfully added that it would require tact to let the -lady from Boston understand that the lad had -been found without in any way gratifying her -natural curiosity in regard to the manner of finding -or the cause of disappearance. “I’ll have to -leave <i>that</i> to you,” he concluded. “Maybe you can -see a way out; I confess my hands are in the air.”</p> - -<p>Millicent thus relegated to the ambassador’s -shelf, the colonel slipped comfortably into his pet -arm-chair facing his nephew on the lounge between -Aunt Rebecca and Miss Smith. Miss Smith -looked frankly, charmingly happy. Aunt Rebecca -looked rather tired.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” remarked he, “I understand, old -man, that you have promised secrecy to—well, to -the Fireless Stove gang, as we’ll call them; but the -<i>other</i> kidnappers, the crowd that held up your car -and then switched you off on a side track while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span> -young Fireless was detained—they haven’t any -hold on you?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” said Archie; “but—you see, that -strange gentleman and Aunt Millicent—I was -scared lest I’d give something away.”</p> - -<p>“They’re not here now. All friends here. Suppose -you make a clean breast of your second kidnapping. -It may be important you should.”</p> - -<p>Nothing loath, Archie told his story. Left outside -while Tracy went into the office with a policeman, -to whom he gave his assumed name, he -remained for hardly two minutes before a gentleman -and a “cop” came up to him, and the latter -ordered him to descend from the machine—but -not until they had found it impossible to move -the vehicle. When they did discover that the key -was out and gone, the man in citizen’s clothes -hailed a cab and the officer curtly informed Archie -that Gardiner (Tracy’s traveling name) had been -taken to another court and he was to follow. He -didn’t suspect anything beyond a collision with -the speed regulations of the city, but had he seen -a chance to dive under his escort’s arm the boy -would have taken it. Such chance was not afforded -him, and all he was able to do was to lean -out suddenly as they passed the Palace and to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span> -wave at Randall. “I wanted them to stop and let -me get some one to pay my fine,” said Archie, -“but they said I was only a witness. They -wouldn’t let me stop; they run down the curtain—at -least so far as it would run. It was like all -those hack curtains, you know—all out of order.”</p> - -<p>“Archie,” the colonel interjected here, “was one -of the men a little fellow, clean-shaven, with a -round black head, blue eyes—one of his eyes -winks a little faster than the other?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. How did you know?”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know; I guessed. Well, get on; they -wanted to pump you when they got you safely out -of sight?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” Archie said, “they put me into the -sweat-box, all right.”</p> - -<p>“Did you tell them anything?” asked Mrs. Winter.</p> - -<p>Archie looked at her reproachfully. Did she -think that he had gone to boarding-school for -nothing? He explained that, being a stranger in -the town, he could not tell anything about where -he’d been. There was an agent at the house trying -to sell stoves, and they let him take him off back -to the hotel. The man seemed to know all about -who he (Archie) was, and about his having gone<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span> -away. The men asked him an awful lot of questions -about how he was taken away. He said he -didn’t know, and he’d promised not to tell. He -couldn’t tell. They said he would have to go to -jail if he didn’t tell, because the men who had him -were such bad men. But he didn’t tell.</p> - -<p>“Did they try to frighten you—to make you -tell?” said Mrs. Winter.</p> - -<p>“Oh, they bluffed a little,” returned Archie carelessly, -yet the keen eyes on him—eyes both -worldly-wise and shrewd—noted that the lad’s -color shifted and he winced the least in the world -over some remembrance.</p> - -<p>“But they didn’t hurt you? They didn’t burn -you or cut you or twist your arms, or try any -other of their playful ways?” Mrs. Winter demanded; -and Janet began feeling the boy’s arms, -breathing more quickly. The colonel only looked.</p> - -<p>“No, they didn’t do a thing. I knew they -wouldn’t, too,” Archie assured her earnestly. “I -told them if they did anything, Uncle Rupert and -you would make them pay.”</p> - -<p>“And you weren’t frightened, away from every -one—in that hideous quarter?” cried Miss Smith. -“Oh, my dear!” She choked.</p> - -<p>“Well, maybe I was a little scared. I kept thinking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span> -of a rotten yarn of Kipling’s; something happened -to <i>him</i>, down in the underground quarter, -in just such a hot, nasty-smelling hole, I guess, as -I was in; you remember, Miss Janet, about the -game of cards and the Mexican stabbing a Chink -for cheating, and how Kipling jumped up and ran -for his life, never looked around; and don’t you -remember that nasty bit, how he felt sure they -had dealt with the greaser their own way and he’d -never get up to the light again—”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been remembering that story all this afternoon,” -answered Miss Smith with a shudder.</p> - -<p>“Agreeable little tale,” said Aunt Rebecca -dryly. “Archie, you must have had a right nasty -quarter of an hour; what stopped it?”</p> - -<p>“Why, a Chink came and called the little man -off; and there was a lot of talking which I couldn’t -hear, and the cop was swearing; I think they -didn’t like it. But, in a minute the Chinaman—he -was an awful nice little feller—he came up to -me and took me out, led me all sorts of ways, not -a bit like the way I came in, and got me out to -the street. The other fellows were very polite; -they told me that they were my friends and only -wanted to find a clue to my kidnappers; and the -burning holes in me was only a joke to give me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span> -an excuse to break my word under compulsion—why, -<i>they</i> wouldn’t hurt me for the world! I -pretended to be fooled, and said it was all right, -and looked pleasant; but—I’d like to scare them -the same way, once, all the same.”</p> - -<p>The boy caught at his lip which was trembling, -and ended with a shaky laugh. Miss Smith -clenched the fist by her side; but she dropped the -arm near Archie, and said in a matter-of-fact, -sprightly tone: “Archie, you really ought to go -dress—and wash for dinner; excuse me for mentioning -it, but you have no idea how grimy you -are.”</p> - -<p>The commonplace turn of thought did its errand. -Archie, who had been bracing himself anew -against the horror which he remembered, dropped -back into his familiar habits and jumped up consciously. -“It’s the dust, motoring,” he offered -bashfully. “I ought to have washed before I came -up. Well, that’s all; we came straight here. Now, -may I go take a bath?”</p> - -<p>Aunt Rebecca was fingering a curious jade -locket on her neck. She watched the boy run to -the open door.</p> - -<p>“I wish you’d go into your room, Colonel,” -said Miss Smith, “and see that nothing happens<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span> -to him. It’s silly, but I am expecting to see him -vanish again!”</p> - -<p>The sentence affected the colonel unpleasantly; -why need she be posing before him, as if that first -disappearance had had any real fright in it? Of -course she didn’t know yet (although Aunt Rebecca -might have told her—she <i>ought</i> to have told -her and stopped this unnecessary deceit) that -he was on to the game; but—he didn’t like it. -Unconsciously, his inward criticism made his tone -drier as he replied with a little bow that he imagined -Archie was quite safe, now, and he would -ask to be excused, as he had to attend to something -before dinner.</p> - -<p>Was it his fancy that her face changed and her -eyes looked wistful? It must have been. He -walked stiffly away. Hardly had he entered his -room and turned his mind on the changed situation -before the telephone apprised him that a -gentleman, Mr. Gardiner, who represented the -Fireless Cook Stove, said that he had an appointment -with Colonel Winter to explain the stove; -should he be sent up?</p> - -<p>Directly, Endicott Tracy entered, smiling. -“Where’s the kid? I know he’s back,” were his -first words; and he explained that he had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span> -hunting the kidnappers to no purpose. “Except -that I learned enough to know they put up a job -with the justice, all right; I got next to that game -without any Machiavellian exertions. But they -got away. Who is it? Any of Keatcham’s gang?”</p> - -<p>“Atkins,” said the colonel concisely.</p> - -<p>Tracy whistled and apologized. “It’s a blow,” -he confessed. “That little wretch! He has brains -to burn and not an ounce of conscience. You -know he has been mousing round at the hotels -after Keatcham’s mail—”</p> - -<p>“He didn’t get it?”</p> - -<p>“No, Cary had covered that point. Cary has -thought this all out very carefully, but Atkins -has got on to the fact that Cary was here in this -hotel with Keatcham. But he doesn’t know where -we come in; whether Keatcham’s gang is just -lying low for some game of its own, or whether -<i>we’ve</i> got him. At least, I don’t believe he -knows.”</p> - -<p>“You ought not to be talking so freely to me; -I haven’t promised you anything, you know,” -warned the colonel.</p> - -<p>“But you’ve got your nephew back all right; -we have been on the square with <i>you</i>; why should -you butt in? I know you won’t.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>“I don’t seem to have a fair call to,” observed -the colonel.</p> - -<p>“And I think the old boy is going to give in; -he has made signals of distress, to my thinking. -Wanted his mail; and wanted to write; and informed -Cary—he saw him for the first time to-day—that -he had bigger things on deck than the -Midland; and wanted to get at them. We’re -going to win out all right.”</p> - -<p>“Unless Atkins gets at him to-night,” the -colonel suggested. “You oughtn’t to have come -here, Gardiner. Don’t go home, now. Wait until -later, and let me rig you up in another lot of togs -and give you my own motor-car. Better.”</p> - -<p>Tracy was more than impressed by the proposal; -he was plainly grateful. He entered with -enthusiasm into the soldier’s masquerade—Tracy -had always had a weakness for theatricals and -some of his Hasty Pudding <i>Portraits of Unknown -People We Know</i> had won him fame at Cambridge. -Ten minutes later, there sat opposite the -colonel a florid-faced, mustached, western commercial -traveler whose plaided tweeds, being an -ill-advised venture of Haley’s which the colonel -had taken off his hands and found no subject of -charity quite obnoxious enough to deserve them,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> -naturally did not fit the present wearer, but suited -his inane complacence of bearing and might pass -for a bad case of ready-made purchase.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said the adviser, “I’ll notify Haley -to have my own hired motor ready for you and -you can slip out and take it after you’ve had -something to eat. Here’s the restaurant card. -Haley will be there. Leave it at the drug store -on Van Ness Street—Haley will give you the -number—and get home as unobtrusively as possible. -You can peel off these togs in the motor -if necessary. You’ve your own underneath except -your coat. Wrap that in a newspaper and -carry it. I don’t know that Atkins has any one -on guard at the hotel, but I think it more than -likely he suspects some connection between our -party and Keatcham’s. But first, tell me about -Atkins; what do you know about him? It’s an -American name.”</p> - -<p>“America can take all the glory of him, I fancy,” -said Tracy. “He’s been Keatcham’s secretary for -six years. He seems awfully mild and useful and -timid. He’s not a bit timid. He’s full of resource; -he’s sidled suggestions into Keatcham’s ear and -has been gradually working to make himself absolutely -necessary. I think he aimed at a partnership;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span> -but Keatcham wouldn’t stand for it. I -think it was in revenge that he sold out some of -Keatcham’s secrets. Cary got on to that and has a -score of his own to settle with him, besides. I -don’t know how he managed, but he showed him -up; and Keatcham gave him the sack in his own -cold-blooded way. I know him only casually. -But my cousin, Ralph Schuyler, went to prep. -school with him, so I got his character straight -off the bat. His father was a patent-medicine -man from Mississippi, who made a fair pile, a -couple of hundred thousand which looked good -to that section, you know. I don’t know anything -about his people except that his father made the -‘Celebrated Atkins’ Ague Busters’; and that Atkins -was ashamed of his people and shook his -married sisters who came to see him, in rather -a brutal fashion; but I know a thing or two about -him; he was one of those bounders who curry -favor with the faculty and the popular boys and -never break rules apparently, but go off and have -sly little bats by themselves. He never was popular, -yet, somehow, he got into things; he knew -where to lend money; and he was simply sickeningly -clever; in math. he was a wonder. Ralph -hated him. For one thing, he caught him in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span> -dirty lie. Atkins hated him back and contrived to -prevent his being elected class president, and when -he couldn’t prevent Ralph’s making his senior society -the happy thought struck Atkins to get on -the initiation committee. They had a cheery little -branding game to make the fellows quite sure they -belonged, you know, and he rammed his cigar -stump into Ralph’s arm so that Ralph had blood-poisoning -and a narrow squeak for his life. You -see that I’m not prepossessed in the fellow’s favor. -He’s got too vivid an imagination for me!”</p> - -<p>“Seems to have,” acquiesced the colonel.</p> - -<p>“I think, you know”—Tracy made an effort -to be just—“I think Atkins was rather soured. -Some of the fellows made fun of the ‘Ague Busters’; -he had a notion that the reason it was -such uphill work for him in the school, was his -father’s trade. No doubt he did get nasty licks, -at first; and he’s revengeful. He hasn’t got on -in society outside, either—this he lays to his not -being a university man. You see his father lost -some of his money and put him to work instead -of in college. He was willing enough at the time—I -think he wanted to get married—but afterward, -when he was getting a good salary and piling -up money on his tips, he began to think that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span> -he had lost more than he had bargained for. -Altogether, he’s soured. Now, what he wants -is to make a thundering big strike and to pull -out of Wall Street, buy what he calls ‘a seat -on the James’ and set-up for a Southern gentleman. -He’s trying to marry a Southern girl, they -say, who is kin to the Carters and the Byrds and -the Lees and the Carys—why, <i>you</i> know her, -she’s Mrs. Winter’s secretary.”</p> - -<p>“Does—does she care for him?” The colonel -suddenly felt his mouth parched; he was savagely -conscious of his mounting color. What a fiendish -trick of fate! he had never dreamed of this! -Well, whether she cared for him or not, the man -was a brute; he shouldn’t get her. That was one -certainty in the colonel’s mind.</p> - -<p>“Why, Cary vows she doesn’t, that it was only -a girlish bit of nonsense up in Virginia, that time -he was prospecting, you know. But I don’t feel -so safe. She’s too nice for such a cur. But you -know what women are; the nicest of them seem -to be awfully queer about men. There’s no betting -on them.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid not,” remarked the colonel lightly. -But he put his fingers inside his collar and -loosened it, as if he felt choked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>Because he had a dozen questions quarreling -for precedence in his head, he asked not one. -He only inquired regarding the situation; discovering -that both Mercer and Tracy were equally -in the dark with himself as to Atkins’ plans, Atkins’ -store of information, Atkins’ resources. -How he could have waylaid Tracy and the boy -without knowing whence they came was puzzling; -it was quite as puzzling, however, assuming -that he did know their whereabouts, to decide -why he was so keen to interrogate the boy. In -fact, it was, as Tracy said, “too much like Professor -Santa Anna’s description of a German definition -of metaphysics, ‘A blind man hunting in a -dark room for a black cat that isn’t there.’”</p> - -<p>“In any event, you would better keep away -from <i>me</i>,” was the colonel’s summing up of the -situation; “I don’t want to be inhospitable, but -the sooner you are off, and out of the hotel, the -safer for your speculation.”</p> - -<p>“Friends will please accept the intimation,” -said Tracy good-humoredly. “Very well, it’s -twenty-three for me. I’m hoping you’ll see your -way clear to run over as soon as the old man has -surrendered; I’m going to invite him to make us -a proper visit, then, and see the country. I’m always<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span> -for letting the conquered keep their side-arms.”</p> - -<p>He went away smiling his flashing smile, and -turned it up at the hotel as he walked out; the -colonel made no sign of recognition from the -window whence he observed him. Instead, he -drew back quickly, frowning; it might be a mere -accident that only a hand’s-breadth of space from -the young Harvard man was a dapper little shape -in evening clothes, a man still young, with a -round black head; if so, it was an accident not to -the colonel’s liking.</p> - -<p>“Damn you!” whispered Rupert Winter very -softly. “What is your little game?”</p> - -<p>At once he descended, having telephoned Haley -to meet him at the court. When he entered -and sent his glance rapidly among the little tables, -by this time filled with diners, he experienced a -disagreeable surprise. It did not come from the -sight of Sergeant Haley in his Sunday civilian -clothes, stolidly reading the <i>Call</i>; it came from a -vision of Atkins standing, bowing, animatedly -talking with Janet Smith.</p> - -<p>Instead of approaching Haley, Winter fell back -and scribbled a few words on a page of his note-book, -while safely shielded by a great palm. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span> -note he despatched to Haley, who promptly -joined him. While they stood, talking on apparently -indifferent subjects, Miss Smith passed -them. Whether because he was become suspicious -or because she had come upon him suddenly, she -colored slightly. But she smiled as she saluted -him and spoke in her usual tranquil tone. “You -are going to dine with us, aren’t you, Colonel?” -said she. “I think dinner is just about to be -served.”</p> - -<p>The colonel would be with them directly.</p> - -<p>Haley’s eyes followed her; he had returned her -nod and inquiry for his wife and little Nora with -a military salute and the assurance that they were -both wonderfully well and pleased with the country.</p> - -<p>“Sure, ain’t it remarkable the way that lady do -keep names in her mind?” cried he. “An’ don’t -she walk foine and straight? Oi’ve been always -towld thim Southern ladies had the gran’ way -wid ’em; Oi see now ’tis thrue.” The unusual -richness of Haley’s brogue was a sure sign of feeling. -The colonel only looked grim. After he had -taken Haley to a safe nook for his confidence, a -nook where there were neither ears nor eyes to -be feared, he would have made his way up-stairs;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span> -but half-way down the office he was hailed by -the manager. The manager was glad to hear that -the young gentleman was safely back. He let the -faint radiance of an intelligent, respectfully tactful -smile illumine his words and intimate that -his listener would have no awkward questions to -parry from him. The colonel felt an ungrateful -wrath, a reprehensible snare of temper which did -not show in his confidentially lowered voice, as he -replied: “Mighty lucky, too, we are; the boy’s all -right; but San Francisco is no place for an innocent -kid even to take the safest-looking walk. -What sort of a police system have you, anyhow?”</p> - -<p>The manager shook his head. “I’m not bragging -about it; nor about the Chinese quarter, -either. I confess I’ve felt particularly uncomfortable, -myself, the last day. Well—if you’ll excuse -the advice—least said, you know.”</p> - -<p>The colonel nodded. He proffered his cigar-case; -the manager complimented its contents, as -he selected a cigar; and both gentlemen bowed. -A wandering, homesick Frenchman, who viewed -their parting, felt refreshed as by a breath from -his own land of admirable manners. Meanwhile, -the colonel was fuming within: “Confound his -insinuating curiosity! but I reckon I headed him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span> -off. And who would have thought,” he wondered -forlornly, “that I could be going to dine with the -boy safe and sound and be feeling so like a -whipped hound!”</p> - -<p>But none of this showed during the dinner at -which Millicent was in high good humor, having -obtained information about most astounding bargains -in the Chinese quarter from Mrs. Wigglesworth. -Her good humor extended even to Miss -Smith, who received it without enthusiasm, albeit -courteously; and who readily consented to be her -companion for the morning sally on the distressed -Orientals, whose difficulties with the customs had -reduced them to the necessity of sales at any cost. -Aunt Rebecca listened with an absent smile, while -Archie laughed at every feeblest joke of his uncle -in a boyish interest so little like his former apathy -that often Miss Smith’s eyes brightened and half -timidly sought the uncle’s, as if calling his attention -to the change. Only a few hours back, his -would have brightened gratefully in answer; -now, he avoided her glances. Yet somehow, his -heart felt heavier when they ceased. For his part, -he was thankful to have his aunt request his company -in a little promenade around the “loggia,” as -she termed it, overlooking the great court.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>She took him aside to tell him her afternoon -experience, and to ask his opinion of the enigmatical -appearance of Atkins. He was strongly tempted, -in return, to question her frankly about Miss -Smith, to tell her of seeing the latter with Atkins -only that evening. He knew that it was the -sensible thing to do—but he simply could not do -it. To frame his suspicions past or present of -the woman he loved; to discuss the chances of -her affection for a man loathsomely unworthy of -her; worse, to balance the possibilities of her -turning betrayer in her turn and chancing any -damage to her benefactress and her kinsman for -this fellow’s sake—no, it was beyond him. He -had intended to discuss his aunt’s part in the -waylaying of Keatcham, with calmness and with -the deference due her, but unsparingly; he meant -to show her the legal if not moral obliquity of -her course, to point out to her the pitfalls besetting -it, to warn her how hideous might be the consequences -of a misstep. Somehow, however, his -miserable new anxiety about Miss Smith had disturbed -all his calculations and upset his wits; and -he could not rally any of the poignant phrases -which he had prepared. All he was able to say -was something about the rashness of the business;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span> -it was like the Filipinos with their bows and arrows -fighting machine-guns.</p> - -<p>“Or David with his ridiculous little sling going -against Goliath,” added she. “Very well put, -Bertie; only the good advice comes too late; the -question now is, how to get out with a whole -skin. Surprising as it may be, I expect to—with -your help.”</p> - -<p>“Honored, I’m sure,” growled Bertie.</p> - -<p>“There is one thing I meant to ask you—I -haven’t, but I shall now. Instead of making it -impossible for me to sleep to-night, as you virtuously -intended in order to clear your conscience -before you tried to pull me out of the trap I’ve -set for myself, suppose you do me a favor, right -now.”</p> - -<p>“You put it so well, you make me ashamed of -my moral sense, Aunt Becky; what is it you -want?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing unbefitting a soldier and a gentleman, -dear boy; just this: Cary has to have some -money. I meant to give it to Stoves, but you -hustled him off in such a rush that I didn’t get -at him. You know where he is, don’t you? You -haven’t sent him straight back?”</p> - -<p>“I can find him, I reckon.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>“Then I’ll give <i>you</i> the money, at once.”</p> - -<p>How weak a thing is man! Here was an eminently -cool-headed, reasonable man of affairs -who knew that paws which had escaped from the -fire unsinged had no excuse to venture back for -other people’s chestnuts; he had expressed himself -clearly to this effect to young Tracy; now, -behold him as unable to resist the temptation of a -conflict and the chance to baffle Atkins as if he -were a hot-headed boy in plain shoulder-straps!</p> - -<p>“I’ll do better for you, Aunt Rebecca,” said he. -“I’ll not only take Fireless the money, I’ll go with -him to the house. I can make a sneak from here; -and Atkins is safely down-stairs at this moment. -He may be shadowing Fireless; if he is, perhaps -I can throw him off the track.”</p> - -<p>Thus it befell that not an hour later Rupert -Winter was guiding the shabby and noisy runabout -a second time toward the haunted house.</p> - -<p>“Nothing doin’,” said the joyous apprentice -to crime; “I called old Cary up and got a furious -slating for doing it; but he said there wasn’t a -watch-dog in sight; and the old man had surrendered. -He was going to let him into the -library on parole.”</p> - -<p>“You need a guardian,” growled the colonel;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span> -“where did you telephone? <i>Not</i> in the drug -store?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear, no, not in such a public place; I’ve -a shrinking nature that never did intrude its -private, personal affairs on the curious world. -I used the ’phone of that nice quiet little restaurant -where they gave me a lovely meal but were -so long preparing it, I used up all the literature -in sight, which was the <i>Ladies’ Home Journal</i> and -a tract on the virtues of Knox’s Gelatine. When -I couldn’t think of anything else to do I routed -out Cary—I’d smoked all my cigarettes and all -my cigars but one which I was keeping for after -dinner. And Cary rowed me good and plenty. -There wasn’t a soul in the room.”</p> - -<p>“Has any one followed you?”</p> - -<p>“Not a man, woman or child, not even a yellow -dog. I kept looking round, too.”</p> - -<p>“It was a dreadfully risky thing to do; you -don’t deserve to escape; but perhaps you did. -Atkins may have come to the Palace for some -other purpose and never have noticed you.”</p> - -<p>“My own father wouldn’t have got on to me -in that dinky rig.”</p> - -<p>Winter was not so easy in his mind. But he -hoped for the best, since there was nothing else<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span> -for him to do. They were in sight of the house -now, which loomed against the dim horizon, -darker, grimmer than ever. Where the upper -stories were pierced with semicircular arches, the -star-sown sky shone through with an extraordinary -effect of depth and mystery. All the lighter -features of the architecture, carving on pediment -or lintel or archivolt, delicate iron tracery of -<i>rejas</i>, relief of arcature and colonnade—all these -the dusk blurred if it did not obliterate; the great -dark bulk of the house with its massive buttresses, -its pyramidal copings and receding upper stories, -was the more boldly silhouetted on the violet sky; -yet because of the very flatness of the picture, the -very lack of shadow and projection, it seemed unsubstantial, -hardly more of reality than the giant -shadow it cast upon the hillside. Electric lights -wavered and bristled dazzling beams on either -side of the street; not a gleam, red, white or yellow, -leaked through the shuttered windows of -the house. In its blackness, its silence, its determined -isolation it renewed, but with a greater -force, the first sinister thrill which the sight of -it had given the man who came to rifle it of its -secrets.</p> - -<p>“Lonesome-looking old shanty, isn’t it?” said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span> -the Harvard boy; “seems almost indecorous to -speak out loud. Here’s where we <i>cache</i> the car -and make a gentle detour by aid of the shrubbery -up the arroyo to the north side of the <i>patio</i>. See?”</p> - -<p>He directed the colonel’s course through an -almost imperceptible opening in the hedge along -sharp turns and oblique and narrow ways into a -small vacant space where the vines covered an -adobe hut. Jumping out, Tracy unlocked the door -of this tiny building so that the colonel could -run the car inside; and after Winter had emerged -again, he re-locked the door. As there was no -window, the purpose of the hut was effectually -concealed.</p> - -<p>“Very neat,” the colonel approved; whereat -Tracy flashed his smile at him in the moonlight -and owned with ingenuous pride that he himself -was the contriver of this reticent garage.</p> - -<p>From this point he took the lead. Neither -spoke. They toiled up the hill, in this part of the -grounds less of the nature of a hill than of an -arroyo or ravine through which rocks had thrust -their rugged sides and over which spiked semi-tropical -cacti had sprawled, and purple and white -flowered vines had made their own untended -tangle. Before they reached the level the colonel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span> -was breathing hard, every breath a stab. Tracy, a -famous track man who had won his H in a wonderful -cross-country run, felt no distress—until -he heard his companion gasp.</p> - -<p>“Jove! But that hill’s fierce!” he breathed explosively. -“Do you mind resting a minute?”</p> - -<p>“Hardly,”—the colonel was just able to hold -his voice steady—“I have a Filipino bullet in my -leg somewhere which the X-ray has never been -able to account for; and I’m not exactly a mountain -goat!”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course, I’m a brute not to let you run -up the drive in the machine. Not a rat watching -us to-night, either; but I wanted you to see the -place; and you seem so fit—”</p> - -<p>“You oughtn’t to give away your secrets to -me, an outsider—”</p> - -<p>“You’re no outsider; I consider you the treasurer -of the band,” laughed Tracy. They had -somehow come to an unexpressed but perfectly -understood footing of sympathy. The colonel -even let the younger man help him up the last -stiff clamber of the path. He forgot his first chill, -as of a witness approaching a tragedy; there was -a smile on his lips when the two of them passed -into the <i>patio</i>. It lingered there as he stood in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span> -flower-scented gloom. It was there as Tracy stumbled -to a half-remembered push-button, wondering -aloud what had become of Cary and Kito that -they shouldn’t have answered his whistle; it was -there, still, when Tracy slipped, and grumbled: -“What sticky stuff has Kito spilled on this floor?”—and -instantly flooded the court with light. -Then—he saw the black, slimy pool and the long -slide of Tracy’s nailed sole in it; and just to -one side, almost pressing against his own foot, he -saw a man in a gray suit huddled into the shape -of a crooked U, with his arms limp at his side -and his head of iron-gray fallen back askew. -The light shone on the broad bald dome of the -forehead. He had been stabbed between the shoulders, -in the back; and one side of the gray coat -was ugly to see.</p> - -<p>“Good God!” whispered Tracy, growing white. -“It’s Keatcham! they’ve killed him! Oh, why -didn’t I come back before!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII<br /> - -<small>WHOSE FEET WERE SHOD WITH SILENCE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>“Get out your revolver,” ordered the colonel; -“look sharp! there may be some one here.”</p> - -<p>But there was not a sign of life revealed by -the search. Meanwhile, Winter was examining -the body. His first thought was that Keatcham -had tried to escape and had been struck down in -his flight. Kito would not scruple at such a deed; -nor for that matter, Mercer. But why leave the -man thus? Why not dispose of the body—unless, -indeed, the assassins had been interrupted. Anyhow, -what a horrid mess this murder would make -of the affair! and how was he to keep the women -out of it! All at once, in the examination which -he had been making (while a dozen gruesome -possibilities tumbled over one another in his -mind) he stopped; he put his ear to the man’s -heart.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t he dead?” asked Tracy under his breath.</p> - -<p>“No, he is not dead, but I’m afraid he’ll never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span> -find it out,” returned the colonel, shrugging his -shoulders. “However, any brandy handy? And -get me some water.”</p> - -<p>“I know where there is some brandy—I’ll get -it; there is some water in the fountain right—<i>Cary!</i>”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” demanded Cary Mercer -in one of the arcade doorways of the <i>patio</i>. -“What’s happened? The devil! Who did this?” -He strode up to the kneeling soldier.</p> - -<p>“You are in a position to know much better -than I,” said the colonel dryly. “We came this -moment; we found this.”</p> - -<p>“Cary, did <i>you</i> do it?”—the young man laid his -hand on Cary’s shoulder; his face was ashy but -his voice rang full and clear. “If you did, I am -sure you had a reason; but I want to know; -we’re partners in this thing to the finish.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, boy,” said Cary gently, “that’s -good to hear. But I didn’t hurt him, Endy. Why -should I? We’d got what we wanted.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Who did?</i>” asked the colonel.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t and Kito didn’t. He went away to -see his only brother who is sick. He hasn’t got -back. I don’t know who did it; but whoever -stabbed him must have done it without warning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span> -him; for I didn’t hear a sound. I was in the -library.”</p> - -<p>“He’s breathing a little, I think,” murmured -the young man, who was sopping the gray mask -of a face while Winter trickled brandy drop by -drop into the sagging mouth, “and—look! somebody -has tried to rob him; that’s a money belt!”</p> - -<p>The waistcoat was open and Winter could see, -beneath, a money belt with buttoned pockets, -which had been torn apart with such haste that -one of the buttons had been wrenched off.</p> - -<p>“They seem to have been after money,” said -he; “see! the belt is full of bills; there’s only one -pocket empty.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he was interrupted,” explained Mercer. -“Push the brandy, Colonel, he’s moving his -eyelids, suh!”</p> - -<p>“We’ve got to do something to that hole in -him, first,” said the colonel. “Is there any doctor—”</p> - -<p>“I daren’t send for one.”</p> - -<p>“Tony Arnold might know one we could trust,” -suggested Tracy. “I can get him over the long -distance.”</p> - -<p>“We want somebody <i>now</i>, this minute,” declared -the colonel.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>“There’s Janet Smith,” said Mercer, “my sister-in-law; -she’s Mrs. Winter’s companion; she -used to be a trained nurse and a mighty good one; -<i>she</i> could be trusted.”</p> - -<p>Could she? And how the terms of his distrust -had changed! He had fought against an answer -in the affirmative this morning; now his heart -was begging for it; he was cold with fear lest -she wasn’t this conspirator’s confederate.</p> - -<p>“Send for them both,” said he with no sign of -emotion.</p> - -<p>“I’ll call up Aunt Rebecca,” said Mercer. -“Isn’t he reviving? No? Best not move him till -we get the wound dressed, don’t you reckon, -Colonel?”</p> - -<p>But the colonel was already making a rough -tourniquet out of his handkerchief and a pencil -to stanch the bleeding. The others obeyed his curt -directions; and it was not until the still unconscious -man was disposed in a more comfortable -posture on the cushions which Tracy brought, -that Winter sent the latter to the telephone; and -then he addressed Mercer. He took a sealed package -from an inner pocket and tendered it, saying: -“You know who sent it. Whatever happens, -you’re a Southern gentleman, and I look to you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span> -to see that she—they are kept out of this nasty -mess—absolutely.”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” returned Mercer, with a trace -of irritation; “what do you take me for? Now, -hadn’t I better call Janet?”</p> - -<p>“But if this were to be discovered—”</p> - -<p>“<i>She</i> wouldn’t have done anything; she is only -nursing a wounded man whom she doesn’t know, -at my request.”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” acquiesced the colonel, with a -long sigh as he turned away.</p> - -<p>He sat down, cross-legged, like a Turk, on the -flags beside the wounded man. Mercer was standing -a little way off. It was to be observed that -he had not touched Keatcham, nor even approached -him close enough to reach him by an -outstretched hand. Winter studied his face, his -attitude—and suppressed the slightest of starts; -Mercer had turned his arm to light another electric -bulb and the action revealed some crimson -spots on his cuff and a smear on his light trousers -above the knee. The lamp was rather high and -he was obliged to raise his arm, thus lifting the -skirts of his coat which had previously hidden -the stain. He did not seem aware that his action -had made any disclosure. He was busy with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span> -light. “That’ll be better,” said he; “I’ll go call up -Sister Janet.”</p> - -<p>How had those stains come? Mercer professed -just to have entered. Vainly Winter’s brain tried -to labor through the crazy bewilderment of it all; -Mercer spoke like an honest man—but look at his -cuffs! How could any outside assassin enter that -locked and guarded house?—yet, if Mercer had -not lied, some one must have stolen in and struck -Keatcham. Kito? But the Jap was out of the -house—perhaps! And Janet Smith, what was she -doing talking to Atkins? Had she given that reptile -any clue? Could he—but it was his opportunity -to rescue Keatcham, not to murder him—what -a confounded maze!</p> - -<p>And what business had he, Rupert Winter, who -had supposed himself to be an honorable man, -who had sworn to support the Constitution and -the laws of the United States, what business had -<i>he</i> to help law-breakers and murderers escape the -just punishment of their deeds? He almost -ground his teeth. Oh, well, there was one way out, -and that was to resign his commission. He would -do it this very night, he resolved; and he swore -miserably at himself, at his venerable aunt who -must be protected at such a sacrifice, at Atkins,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span> -at the feebly moaning wretch whom he had not -ceased all this while to ply carefully with drops of -brandy. “You everlasting man-eater, if you dare -to die, I’ll <i>kill</i> you!” he snorted.</p> - -<p>Thereupon he went at the puzzle again. Before -any answer could come to the telephone calls, a -low, mournful, inhuman cry penetrated the thick -walls. It was repeated thrice; on the third call, -Tracy ran quickly through the <i>patio</i> to a side -door, barred and locked like all the entrances, -released and swung it open and let in Kito. A -few murmured words passed between them. The -Jap uttered a startled exclamation. “But how can -it to be? How? no one can get in! And who -shall stab him? For <i>why</i>?”</p> - -<p>He examined the wounded man, after a gravely -courteous salute to Winter; and frowned and -sighed. “What did it?” said he; “did who -stabbed, take it ’way, he must give <i>stlong</i> pull!”</p> - -<p>“Whoever did it,” said the colonel, “must have -put a knee on the man’s back and pulled a strong -pull, as you say.” In speaking the words he felt a -shiver, for he seemed to see that red smear above -Mercer’s knee.</p> - -<p>He felt the shiver again when Mercer returned -and he glanced at him; there was not a stain on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span> -his shining white cuffs; he had changed them; -he had also changed his suit of clothes and his -shoes. His eyes met the colonel’s; and Winter -fancied there was a glint of defiance in them; he -made no comment, for no doubt a plausible excuse -for the fresh clothes was ready. Well, he -(Winter) wouldn’t ask it. Poor devil! he had had -provocation.</p> - -<p>For the next half-hour they were all busy with -Keatcham.</p> - -<p>“He is better,” pronounced the Jap; “he will -not live, maybe, but he will talk, he can say who -hult him.”</p> - -<p>“If he can only do that!” cried Mercer. “It -is <i>infernal</i> to think any one can get in here and do -such a thing!”</p> - -<p>“Rotten,” Tracy moaned.</p> - -<p>The colonel said nothing.</p> - -<p>They were all still working over Keatcham -when a bell pealed. Tracy started; but Mercer -looked a shade relieved. “They’ve come,” said he.</p> - -<p>“<i>They?</i>” repeated the colonel. He scrambled to -his feet and gasped.</p> - -<p>Miss Smith was coming down the colonnade, -but not Miss Smith alone. Aunt Rebecca walked -beside her, serene, erect and bearing a small hand-bag.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span> -Miss Smith carried a larger bag; and Tracy -had possessed himself of a dress-suit case.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Bertie,” remarked his aunt in her -softest tone, “I came with Janet. My generation -believed in <i>les convenances</i>.”</p> - -<p>All the colonel could articulate was a feeble, -“And Archie? and Millicent?”</p> - -<p>“Haley is staying in your room with Archie. -Millicent had retired; if she asks for us in the -morning we shall not be up. She has an appointment -with Janet, but it isn’t until half-past eleven. -Randall has her instructions.”</p> - -<p>“But—but—how did you get here?”</p> - -<p>Aunt Rebecca drew herself up. “I trust now, -Bertie, you will admit that I am as fit as any of -you to rough it. If there is one mode of transit -I abominate, it is those loathsome, unsanitary, -uncivil, joggly street-cars; we came as far as the -corner in the <i>street-cars</i>, then we walked. Did we -want to give the number to a cab-man, do you -suppose? Bertie, have you such a thing as a match -about you? I think Janet wants to heat a teaspoonful -of water for a strychnine hypodermic.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV<br /> - -<small>FROM MRS. MELVILLE’S POINT OF VIEW</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright">The Palace Hotel,</span><br /> -San Francisco, March 24, 1906.</p> - -<p>My dear Husband:</p> - -<p>Although I sent you a postal yesterday, I am -writing again to-day to try to keep you in touch -with our <i>extraordinary series</i> of events. Nothing -has been heard from Archie except the letter—<i>if -he wrote it</i>—which tells nothing except that -his kidnappers use the same kind of writing paper -as Miss Janet Smith. I grow more suspicious of -her all the time. You ask (but of course you -wrote before the recent mysterious and tragical -occurrences) you ask do I like Miss Smith any -better, now that I am thrown with her so closely. -No, Melville, <i>I</i> have not the <i>fatal credulity</i> of the -Winters! I distrust her <i>more</i>. She has, I admit, -an engaging personality; there is a superficial -amiability that would be dangerous to one not on -her guard. But I am never off my guard with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span> -her. I’m sorry to say, however, that your brother -seems deceived by her plausible ways. And, of -course, our poor aunt is still her blind dupe. -Aunt Rebecca has failed a good deal this last year; -she is quite irritable with me, sometimes; and I -suppose it is the insensibility of age, but she does -not appear to realize the full horror of this kidnapping. -Miss Smith actually seems to suffer -more; she looks pale and haggard and has no -appetite. I do not think it <i>all pretense</i>, either; I -dare say much of it is <i>remorse</i>! The situation is -dreadful. Sometimes I think Aunt Rebecca will -not yield to the demands of these wretches who -have our poor boy, and that he will be mutilated -or murdered; sometimes I think that they have -murdered him already and are writing forged letters -to throw us off the track. You can imagine -how my nerves are shaken! I have seen hardly -anything of the city; and of course have not gone -into society at all. Indeed, I have met only one -pleasant person; that was the secretary of the great -financier, Mr. Edwin Keatcham, who was here, -next to us. The secretary is a pleasing person -quite <i>comme il faut</i> in appearance. I met him here -in the court where he nearly knocked me over; -and he apologized profusely—and really very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span> -nicely, using my name. That surprised me, but -he explained that they had been on the train with -us. Then I remembered him. His name is Horatio -Atkins; and he is very polite. He is on a two -weeks’ vacation and came here to see Mr. -Keatcham, not knowing he was gone. He was -really most agreeable and so sympathetic about -poor dear Archie. He agreed with me that such a -nervous temperament as Archie’s suffers much -more from unkindness. I could see, in spite of -his assumed hopefulness, that he shared my fears. -He has met quite a number of our friends. He -may (through Mr. Keatcham) be a <i>most valuable</i> -acquaintance. Didn’t you tell me, once, that -Keatcham was the leading benefactor of the university?</p> - -<p>He (Mr. Atkins) got his vacation on account -of his health; and he is going to Southern California. -I don’t wonder. I have never suffered -more than in this land of sunshine! It is not so -much the cold of the air as the humidity! Do -pray be cautious about changing to your summer -underwear. <i>Don’t do it!</i> I nearly perished, in the -bleak wind yesterday, when I tried to visit a few -shops. Be sure and take the cough medicine <i>on -the second shelf of our bath-room medicine closet</i>;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span> -don’t mistake <i>rheumatism liniment</i> for it; they -are both on the same shelf; you would better -sort them out. You are <i>so</i> absent-minded, Melville, -I haven’t a peaceful day when I’m away -from you; and do for Heaven’s sake try to bow -to Mrs. Farrell and call her by her right name! -You certainly have been to the president’s house -often enough to know his wife on the street; and -I don’t think that it was a good excuse which -you gave to Professor Dale for calling “Good -morning, Katy!” to Mrs. Dale (who was born a -Schuyler and is <i>most</i> punctilious) <i>that you mistook -her for our cook</i>!</p> - -<p>I miss you very much. Give my love to all -our friends and be sure to wear your galoshes -(your <i>rubbers</i>, you know) when the campus is -wet, whether it is raining or not.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright2">Your aff. wife,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">M. Winter.</span></p> - -<p class="center">THE SAME TO THE SAME</p> - -<p class="right">The Palace Hotel, March 25, ten <span class="allsmcap">P. M.</span></p> - -<p>My dear Husband:</p> - -<p>What do you think has happened? I am almost -too excited to write. <i>Archie is back!</i> Yes, back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span> -safe and sound, and absolutely indifferent, to -all appearances, to all our indescribable sufferings -on his account! He walked into the -parlor about six or a little after, grinning like -an ape, as if to disappear from the face of the -earth and come back to it were quite the usual -thing. And when we questioned him, he professed -to be on his word not to tell anything. And Bertie -upheld him in this ridiculous position! However, -I was told by the detective whom Bertie -employed, rather a decent, vulgar, little man, that -they (Bertie and he) had cornered the kidnappers -and “called their bluff,” as he expressed it; -but I’m inclined to think they got their ransom -from our unfortunate, victimized aunt who is too -proud to admit it, and that they probably managed -it through Miss S—. I know they called up the -room to know if the boy was back; and I puzzled -them well, I fancy, by saying he <i>was</i>. I may have -saved our poor aunt some money by that; but I -can’t tell, of course. Melville, I am almost <i>sure</i> -that Miss J. S— is at the bottom of it, whatever -the mystery is. I am almost sure that, not content -with blackmailing and plundering auntie, Miss -S— is now <i>making a dead set</i> at poor, blind, simple-hearted -Bertie! I have reasons which I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span> -haven’t time to enumerate. Bertie will hardly -bear a word of criticism of her patiently; in fact, -I have ceased to criticize her to him or to Aunt -Rebecca—ah, it is a lonely, lonely lot to be clear-sighted; -but <i>noblesse oblige</i>. But often during the -last few days I have thought that Cassandra -wasn’t enough pitied.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright2">Your aff. wife,</span><br /> -M.</p> - -<p class="center">THE SAME TO THE SAME</p> - -<p class="right">Casa Fuerte, San Francisco, Cal.,<br /> -Wednesday.    </p> - -<p>Dear Husband:</p> - -<p>This heading may surprise you. But we are -making a visit to Mr. Anthony Arnold (<i>the</i> -Arnold’s son) in his beautiful house in the suburbs -of the city. It was far more convenient -for me at the Palace where I found Mrs. Wigglesworth -most attentive and congenial and -found some <i>great bargains</i>; but you know I can -not be false to my <i>Trust</i>. To watch Aunt Rebecca -Winter (without seeming to watch, of course, for -the aged always resent the care which they need) -is my chief object in this trip; therefore when Mr.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span> -Arnold (whose father she knows, but the old gentleman -is traveling in Europe with his married -daughter and her family) when the young Arnold -urged us all to come and spend a couple of -weeks with him, I could not very well refuse. -Though a stranger to me, he is not to Auntie or -Bertie. The house is his own, left him by his -mother, who died not very long ago. At first, I -remained at the Palace with Bertie and Archie; -Bertie seemed so disturbed at the idea of my going -and Aunt Rebecca was very liberal, insisting that -I was just as much her guest as before, it was -only she who was running away; and the end of -it was (she has such a compelling personality, -you know) that she went with Randall and J. S. -to Casa Fuerte (Strong House—and you would -call it well-named could you see it; it is a massive -structure!) while we others remained until Sunday. -On account of what I have hinted in regard -to the designs of a certain lady I was not sorry -to have Bertie under another roof. He has a fortune -of his own, you know, and a reputation as -well. Wealth and position at one blow certainly -would appeal to her, an obscure dependent probably -of no family (it is not a romantic name), and -Bertie is very well-bred and rather handsome with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span> -his black eyebrows and gray hair and aquiline -nose. I have been very, very worried, but I feel -relieved as to that. Melville, <i>she is flying at higher -game</i>! In this house is a multimillionaire, in fact -the fourth richest man in the United States, Edwin -S. Keatcham. He is ill—probably with appendicitis -which seems to be the common lot. I -asked the doctor—of course, very delicately—and -he said, “Well, not exactly, but—” and smiled -very confidentially; and begged me not to mention -Mr. Keatcham’s illness or even that he was in the -house. “You know,” he said, “that when these -great financiers sneeze, the stock-market shakes; -so absolute secrecy, please, my dear madam.” -Don’t mention it to a soul, will you? Of course -I haven’t seen the invalid; but I’ve seen his valet, -who is very English; and I have seen his nurse. -Who do you suppose she is? Janet Smith! Yes; -you know she has been a trained nurse. Was there -ever a more artful creature! But Mr. K. is none -of my affairs; he will have to save himself or be -lost. Once she is his wife we are safe from that -designing woman. I am quite willing to admit his -danger and her fascination. Now, Melville, for -once admit that I can be just to a woman whom I -dislike.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span>This house is sumptuous; I’ve a lovely bath-room -and a beautiful huge closet with a window. -It must have cost a mint of money. I have been -told that Arnold <i>père</i> made a present of it to his -wife; he let the architect and her draw all the -plans of it, but he insisted on attending to the -construction himself; he said he was not going to -have any contract work or “scamping,” such as I -am reliably informed has been common in these -towering new buildings in San Francisco; he -picked out all the materials himself and inspected -the inspector. It has what they call “reinforced -concrete” and all the beams, etc., are steel and the -lower story is enormously thick as to walls, in the -genuine Mission style. He said he built for earthquakes. -The house is all in the Spanish <i>hidalgo</i> -fashion. I wish you could see the bas-reliefs and -the carved furniture with cane seats of the seventeenth -century, <i>all genuine</i>; and the stamped -leather and the iron grille work—<i>rejas</i> they call it—all -copied from famous Spanish models from -Toledo; you know the ancient Spaniards were renowned -for their <i>rejas</i>. The pictures are fine—all -Spanish; I don’t know half the names of the -artists, but they are all old and imposing and some -of them wonderfully preserved. The electric<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span> -lights are all in the shape of lanterns. The <i>patio</i>, -as they call the court around which the house is -built, reminded me of the court in Mrs. Gardiner’s -palace in Boston, only it was not so crowded with -<i>objets</i> and the pillars are much thicker and the -tropical plants and vines more luxuriant—on account -of the climate, I suppose. It is all certainly -very beautiful.</p> - -<p>There is a great arched gateway for carriages—which -reminds me, do be sure to send the horses -into the country to rest, one at a time; and have -Erastus clean the stable properly while they are -gone. You can keep one horse for golf; but don’t -use the brougham ever; and why not send the surrey -to be done over while I am gone? Is the -piazza painted yet? How does the new cook do? -Insist upon her cooking you nourishing food. -You might have the Bridge Club of an evening—there -are only the four of you—and she might, -with Emily’s help, get you a nice repast of lobster -à la Newburg, sandwiches and chicken salad; but -be sure <i>you</i> don’t touch the lobster! You know -what happened the last time; and I shan’t be there -to put on mustard-plasters and give you Hunyadi -water. If Erastus needs any more chamois skins -Emily knows where they are, but admonish him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span> -to be careful with them; I never saw mortal man -go through chamois skins the way he can; sometimes -I think he gives them to the horses to eat!</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright">Good-by,</span><br /> -<span class="indentright2">Your aff. wife,</span><br /> -M.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV<br /> - -<small>“THE LIGHT THAT NEVER WAS”</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>The changes which Mrs. Melville had accepted -so philosophically, the metamorphosis of the tragic -and lonely house of mystery into a luxurious -country villa, the flinging open of the shutters, the -marshaling of servants, the turning, one may say, -of the lime-light on a rich man’s ordinary life—all -this had occurred as swiftly and with as little -warning as a scene shifts on the stage.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Rebecca Winter may have the credit for -this <i>bouleversement</i> of plans. By an astonishingly -early hour, the next morning, she was awake and -down-stairs, where Kito and Tracy were making -coffee, toasting bread and admiring the oatmeal -which had cooked, while they slept, in the Fireless -Stove. Tracy had planned a surprise of brown -bread, but through no fault of the Fireless, owing -solely to his omitting what he called “the pick-me-up,” -commonly known as soda—an accident, -as he truly said, which might happen to any lady—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span> -bread was “rather too adhesive.” The -breakfast, notwithstanding, was a cheerful one, -because Miss Smith reported the patient a shade -better. She looked smiling, although rather heavy-eyed. -Mercer and the colonel had taken turns sitting -in the adjoining room to bring her ice or hot -water or be of service outside.</p> - -<p>The colonel had suggested calling a doctor, but -Aunt Rebecca had demurred: “Janet can do -everything; it is just a question of his heart; and -she has digitalis and nitroglycerin and strychnine, -the whole outfit of whips. She has dressed the -wound with antiseptics. To-morrow will be soon -enough for the medical talent.” It was she, however, -who, as soon as breakfast was over, took first -Mercer and Tracy, then the colonel apart, and -proposed calling up Keatcham’s confidential associates -on the long-distance telephone. “Strike, -but hear me, nephew,” she said languidly, smiling -at his bewilderment. “Our only chance now is to -exhaust trumps. Yesterday the game was won. -Keatcham had surrendered, he had told his partners -in the deal to make no fight on Tracy’s election; -they could get what they wanted without -the Midland; he advised them to cover their shorts -and get ready for a bull market—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>“How did he do all that when he had lost his -private code book?”</p> - -<p>“How would <i>you</i> do it? You would use the -long distance telephone. We caught them at Seattle, -where his men had gone for the meeting. -I don’t understand why they needed me to suggest -that. There the poor man was, as your -Harvard stove agent calls it, rubbering about the -library, trying to find <i>The Fortunes of Nigel</i> in -the edition Darley had illustrated; of course, it -wasn’t there. He had lost it just before he came -to the Palace, he thought. It seems his old cipher -needs a particular book, that kind. No doubt in -my mind that your theory is right and that Atkins -stole it and perhaps thought he stole the key, but -didn’t get it. He took a memorandum of ciphers -which looked like a key. There Keatcham was, -with millions hanging on his wires and his modern -substitute for the medieval signet-ring that -would enforce the message quite lost. What to -do? Why, there was nothing to do but get another -cipher! They made up a temporary one, -right in that library, yesterday afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“But how could Mercer be sure Keatcham -would not play a trick on him? Did he hear the -conversation?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>“Certainly not. He took Keatcham’s word. -Whatever his faults, Keatcham has always kept -his word. Mercer was sure he would keep it. He -went out of the room. He was in the library when -Keatcham was stabbed.”</p> - -<p>The colonel drew a long, difficult breath. -“Then you don’t believe Mercer did it?”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure he didn’t. He didn’t hurt him. Why -should he kill him after he had surrendered? He -had nothing to gain and considerable to risk, if -not to lose. We want that bull market.”</p> - -<p>“But who did then? Atkins? But he is trying -to rescue him.”</p> - -<p>“Is he? How do we know? The rescue was -only our supposition. I’m only certain none of -our crowd did it.”</p> - -<p>“Kito?”</p> - -<p>“No, Kito keeps absolutely within his orders; -he knew how things stood when he went away. -Mercer saw him go. He couldn’t get in, either; -he had to signal to be let in. They were as careful -as that. Now, assuming they all are innocent, isn’t -it the best plan to telephone to Seattle to Keatcham’s -next friend there?”</p> - -<p>“He hasn’t any family, has he? His wife died -and there were no children, I think.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>“No, and if he ever had any brothers or sisters -they died when they were little; his business associates -are the only people Cary knows about. -He is anxious to have word sent at once, because -there are important things to do in Keatcham’s -own interest; he came to California and he has -employed Cary in a big Portland cement investment; -Cary has been working all the time on it -for him—I beg your pardon—” for the colonel -had raised his hand with a little gasp.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean,” said he, “that Mercer has been -acting as Keatcham’s agent, working in <i>his interest</i> -all the time he was holding him a prisoner and -ready to kill him rather than let him go?”</p> - -<p>“Why not? Cary is a man of honor. This cement -deal is a perfectly fair one which will give -a fair price to the present owners and make a -great business proposition. There are other -schemes, too, very large ones, which need the man -at the wheel. Now, I have talked with Cary and -Endicott Tracy and my plan is to call up Warnebold, -his next friend, who knows Mercer has been -employed by Keatcham and knows his voice and -knows he is a trusty man (for Mercer has done -some inquiries for him and saved him once from -buying a water-logged steel plant) to call <i>him</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span> -up and—tell him the truth. We can say Mr. -Keatcham was mysteriously stabbed; we can ask -what is best to do. By that time we can report -that we have the best medical assistance—young -Arnold will get his family physician, who can be -trusted. Warnebold will instruct Mercer, I -reckon, to keep the fact of the assault a secret, not -even mention that Mr. Keatcham is ill; and very -likely he or some one else will come straight on -here. Meanwhile, young Arnold can open the -house, hire some servants who won’t talk—I can -get them for him; we all say nothing of the magnate’s -presence. And the bull market will come -all right.”</p> - -<p>After a little reflection the colonel agreed that -the bold course would be the safest. Thus it came -about, with amazing rapidity, that the haunted -house was opened; that sleek, smiling Chinamen -whisked brooms and cleaning cloths at open windows; -and Haley and Kito frankly told any curious -inquirers who hailed them over the lawn and -the flower-beds that young Mr. Arnold was coming -home and going to have a house-party of -friends. The servants had been carefully selected -by Mrs. Winter’s powerful Chinese friend; they -had no dread of white spooks, however they might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span> -cringe before yellow ones. Mrs. Winter and Randall -left their hotel, after all the appropriate ceremonies, -amid the lavish bows and smiles of -liberally paid bell-boys and porters. They gave -out that they were to visit friends; and the colonel, -who remained, was to take charge of their mail; -hence, with no appearance of secrecy, the trail -took to water and was lost, since the motor-car -which carried them was supplied by Birdsall and -driven by a safe man of his own.</p> - -<p>Regarding the detective, Rupert Winter had -had what he called “a stiff think;” he could not -afford even the remote risk of his going with the -picturesque assortment of information which he -had obtained about Casa Fuerte and Mercer, into -Atkins’ employ; therefore he hired him, still, himself. -He made a partial but absolutely truthful -statement of the case; he said frankly: “Birdsall, -I’m not going to treat you fair, for I’m not going -to tell you all I know, because—well, for one -thing, I don’t feel sure how much I do know myself. -But all I’m going to ask of you is to watch -the house, day and night, without seeming to -watch it. You will oblige Mr. Keatcham as well -as me. There is a big game going on, but it isn’t -what you thought. Mr. Keatcham’s best helpers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span> -are right in that house. Mercer and I and young -Fireless and Arnold are doing our best to guard -him, not hurt him. Now, there is big money for -you if you will watch out for us.”</p> - -<p>Birdsall reflected a moment before he answered, -but he did answer, screwing up his face: “I don’t -like these jobs in the dark; but I like you, Colonel, -and it’s a go.”</p> - -<p>Keatcham’s valet was next summoned from his -vacation and became, in Tracy’s phrase, “a dandy -sub-nurse.”</p> - -<p>The Tracys’ family physician came twice a day. -He was known to be visiting one of the guests -who had fallen ill. Mercer sent three or four telegrams -a day to Seattle and to New York, to -Keatcham’s associates. Several times he held a -conversation of importance over the telephone -with the man who acted as distributer of intelligence. -Warnebold, himself, came on to San Francisco -from Seattle, and was received with every -courtesy. He questioned Kito, questioned Mercer, -questioned the colonel. Tracy had effaced -himself and was in Pasadena for a day or two.</p> - -<p>The colonel was the star witness (at least this -was young Arnold’s verdict). His narrative was -to the effect that he had gone out to see Mercer,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span> -who was a family connection; no, he was not -alone, he had a young friend with him; confidentially, -he would admit that the friend was Mr. -Tracy’s son; and, while he could not be sure, he -had reason to suspect that he, “young Tracy,” -had been conducting some delicate negotiations -with Mr. Keatcham. At this point the interlocutor -nodded slightly; he was making the deductions -expected and explaining to himself Keatcham’s -astonishing communication over the telephone. -So, he was surmising shrewdly, <i>that</i> was the clue; -the old man had been making some sort of a deal -with Tracy through the son; well, they were protected, -thanks to Keatcham’s orders. Likely as not -they never would know all the reasons for this -side-stepping.</p> - -<p>“I understand, then,” he said, as one who holds -a clue but has no notion of letting it slip out of his -own fingers, “you and young Tracy got here and -you found Mr. Keatcham? How did you get in? -Did Mr. Mercer let you in? How did it happen he -didn’t discover Mr. Keatcham instead of you, or -did you come in on the side?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Winter who was in the room had a diversion -ready, but it was not needed; the colonel -answered unhesitatingly, with a frank smile:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span> -“No, we came in ourselves; young Tracy had a -key.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he <i>had</i>, had he?” returned Warnebold -with a shrug of the shoulders.</p> - -<p>“He is a great friend of young Arnold’s; they -were at Harvard together, belonged to the same -societies.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I understand; well—”</p> - -<p>The rest of the interview was clear sailing. -Mrs. Winter’s presence was explained in her very -own words. “Of course I was put out a good deal -at first,” added the colonel, “by the women getting -mixed up in it; but Miss Smith undoubtedly saved -Mr. Keatcham’s life. I never saw any one who -seemed to think of so many things to do. Half a -dozen times, that first night, he seemed to be fading -away; but every time she brought him back. -I was anxious to have a doctor called in; but -Mercer seemed opposed to making a stir—”</p> - -<p>“He knew his business thoroughly,” interjected -Keatcham’s confidant, “he undoubtedly had his -instructions to keep Keatcham’s presence here -a secret.”</p> - -<p>“He <i>had</i>,” said Mrs. Winter; “besides, Miss -Smith is his sister-in-law and he knew that she -could be trusted to do everything possible. And,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span> -really, it didn’t look as if anything could help -him. I hardly believed that he could live an hour -when I saw him.”</p> - -<p>“Nor I,” the colonel corroborated.</p> - -<p>Warnebold, plainly impressed by Mrs. Winter’s -grand air, assured them both that he felt that -everything that could be done had been done; -Miss Smith was quite wonderful; and he would -admit (of course, confidentially) that Mr. Keatcham -did have a heart trouble; Mr. Mercer had recalled -one or two fainting fits; there was some -congestion; and the doctor found a sad absence of -reaction; he believed that there had been a—er—syncope -of some sort before the stabbing; Mr. -Keatcham himself, although he was still too weak -to talk much, had no recollection of anything except -a very great faintness. Mr. Mercer’s theory -seemed to cover the ground.</p> - -<p>“Except as to who did the stabbing,” said the -colonel.</p> - -<p>“Has Mr. Keatcham any bitter enemies?” -asked Aunt Rebecca thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“What man who has made a great fortune -hasn’t?” demanded Warnebold with a saturnine -wrinkle of the lips. “But our enemies don’t stab -or shoot us, nowadays.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span>“They do out West,” said the colonel genially; -“we’re crude.”</p> - -<p>“Are you in earnest?”</p> - -<p>“Entirely. I know a man, a mine superintendent, -who got into a row with his miners because -he discharged a foreman, one of the union lights, -for stealing ore. In consequence he got a big -strike on his hands, found a dynamite bomb under -his front piazza, and was shot at twice. The -second time he was too quick for them; he shot -back and killed one of them. He thought it was -time to put a stop to so much excitement, so he -sent for the second assassin—”</p> - -<p>“And had him arrested?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear, no; he wasn’t in Massachusetts; I -told you he wanted the thing stopped. No, he sent -for him and told him that he had no special ill -feeling toward <i>him</i>, but that the next time anything -of the kind happened he had made arrangements -to have not him, or any other thug who -was doing the work, but the two men who were at -the bottom of the whole business, killed within -twenty-four hours. They took the hint and kind -feeling now prevails.”</p> - -<p>Warnebold grunted; he declared it to be a -beastly creepy situation; he said he never wanted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span> -to sit down without a wall against his back; and -he intimated that the president of the United -States was to blame for more than he realized. “I -hope you have some one watching the house,” he -fumed, “and that he—well, he doesn’t belong to -the police force.”</p> - -<p>“No, he’s an honest mercenary,” said the colonel; -“I’ll introduce him to you.”</p> - -<p>“And you haven’t found any method of entering -the house?” fumed the financier.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Aunt Rebecca.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>He laughed as they both whirled round on him.</p> - -<p>“You speak first, my dear aunt,” he proposed politely; -“I’ll explain later.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Winter said that a most careful examination -had been made not only by Mercer and the -colonel together, but also by young Arnold. They -found everything absolutely secure; all the windows -were bolted and all the cellar gratings firm -and impossible to open.</p> - -<p>“Now, you?” said Warnebold.</p> - -<p>“I only found out to-day,” apologized the colonel, -“or I should have spoken of it. I got to -thinking; and it occurred to me that in a house -built, as I understood from Arnold, by a very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span> -original architect, there might be some queer features, -such as secret passages. With that in my -mind, I induced the young gentleman to hunt up -the architect, as he lives in San Francisco. He not -only showed us some very pretty secret passages -about the house, but one that led into it. Shall I -show it to you?”</p> - -<p>On their instantly expressed desire to see the -hidden way, the colonel led them to the <i>patio</i>. -He walked to the engaged column which once -before had interested him; he pressed a concealed -spring under the boldly carved eight-pointed -flower; instantly, the entire side of the columns -swung as a door might swing. As they peered -into the dusky space below, the colonel, who had -put down his arm, pressed an electric button and -the white light flooded the shaft, revealing an ingenious -ladder of cleats fitted into steel uprights.</p> - -<p>“Here,” said the colonel, “is a secret way from -the <i>patio</i> to the cellar. The cellar extends a little -beyond the <i>patio</i> and there is a way down from the -yard to the cellar—I can quickly show you, if you -like.”</p> - -<p>“No, thank you,” replied Warnebold, who was -a man of full habit and older than the colonel, “I -will take <i>your</i> personal experience instead.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span>“Then if you will go out into the yard with me -I will show you where a charming pergola ends -in a vine-wreathed sun-dial of stone that you -may tug at and not move; but press your foot on -a certain stone, the whole dial swings round on a -concealed turn-table such as they have in garages, -you know. You will have no difficulty in finding -the right stone, because an inscription runs round -the dial: <i>Más vale tarde que nunca</i>; and the stone -is directly opposite <i>nunca</i>. When you have moved -away your dial you will see a gently inclining tunnel, -high enough for a man to walk in without -stooping, wide enough for two, and much better -ventilated than the New York subway. That tunnel -leads to a secret door opening directly into the -cellar, so skilfully contrived that it looks like an -air-shaft. This door is only a few feet from the -shaft to the <i>patio</i>. We have found a bolt and put -it on this entrance, but there wasn’t any before; -nor did any one in the house know of the secret -passage.”</p> - -<p>The colonel went on to say that on questioning -the architect he averred that he had never mentioned -the secret passage to his knowledge—except -that very recently, only a few days before, -at a dinner, he had barely alluded to it; and one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span> -of the gentlemen present, an Easterner, had asked -him where he got a man to make such a contrivance—it -must take skill. He had mentioned the -name of the workman. The colonel had hunted -up the artisan mentioned, only to find that he had -left town to take a job somewhere; no one seemed -to know where. Of course he had inquired of -everybody. The name of the Easterner was Atkins.</p> - -<p>“Atkins,” cried Warnebold, at this turn of the -narrative, “Keatcham’s secretary? Why, he’s the -boldest and slyest scoundrel in the United States! -He started a leak in Keatcham’s office that made -him a couple of hundred thousands and lost us a -million, and might have lost us more if Mercer -hadn’t got on to him. Keatcham wouldn’t believe -he had been done to the extent he was at first—you -know the old man hates to own to any one’s -getting the better of him; it’s the one streak of -vanity I’ve ever been able to discover in him. -Otherwise, he’s cold and keen as a razor on a -frosty morning. He was convinced enough, however, -to discharge Atkins; the next news I had, -he was trying to send him to the pen. Gave us -instructions how to get the evidence. No allusion -to his past confidence in the fellow, simply the orders—as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span> -if we knew all the preliminaries. Wonderful -man, Mr. Keatcham, Colonel Winter.”</p> - -<p>“Very,” agreed the colonel dryly.</p> - -<p>By this time the warrior and the man of finance -were on easy terms. Warnebold remained three -days. Before he left the patient had been pronounced -out of danger and had revived enough to -give some succinct business directions. Mercer -had been sent to look out for the cement deal; -and Keatcham appeared a little relieved and -brighter when he was told that Mercer was on -his way.</p> - -<p>“He will put it through if it can be put,” he -had said weakly to Warnebold; “he’s moderately -smart and perfectly honest.” Such words, Warnebold -explained later to Mrs. Winter, coming from -Keatcham might be regarded almost as extravagant -commendation. “Your cousin’s fortune is -made,” he pronounced solemnly; “he can get Atkins’ -place, I make no doubt.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Winter thought that Mercer was a very -valuable man.</p> - -<p>“Only always so melancholy; I’ve been afraid -he had something serious the matter with his digestion. -It’s these abominable quick lunches that -are ruining the health of all our steady young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span> -men. I don’t know but they are almost as bad -as chorus girls and late suppers. Well, Mrs. Winter, -I’m afraid we shall not have another chance -at bridge until I see you in New York. But, anyhow, -we stung the colonel once—and with Miss -Smith playing her greatest game, too. Pity she -can’t induce Mr. Keatcham to play; but he never -touches a card, hardly ever takes anything to -drink, doesn’t like smoking especially, takes a cigarette -once in a while only, never plays the races or -bets on the run of the vessel—positively such icy -virtue gives an ordinary sinner the cramps! Very -great man though, Mrs. Winter, and a man we -are all proud to follow; he may be overbearing; -and he doesn’t praise you too much, but somehow -you always have the consciousness that he sees -every bit of good work you do and is marking it -up in your favor; and you won’t be the loser. -There is no question he has a hold on his associates; -but he certainly is not what I call a genial -man.”</p> - -<p>Only on the day of his departure did Warnebold, -in young Arnold’s language, “loosen up” -enough to tell Arnold and the colonel a vital incident. -The night of the attack a telegram was -sent to Warnebold in Keatcham’s confidential<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span> -cipher, directing the campaign against Tracy to -be pushed hard, ordering the dumping of some big -blocks of stock on the market and arranging for -their dummy purchasers. The naming of Atkins -as the man in charge was plausible enough, presuming -there had been no knowledge of the break -in his relations with Keatcham. The message was -couched in Keatcham’s characteristic crisp phraseology. -But for the receiver’s knowledge of the -break and but for the previous long-distance conversation, -it had reached its mark. The associates -of Keatcham were puzzled. The hands were the -hands of Esau but the voice was the voice of -Jacob. There had been a hurried consultation into -which the second long-distance telephone from -San Francisco broke like a thunderclap. It decided -the hearers to keep to their instructions and -disregard the cipher despatch.</p> - -<p>“And didn’t you send any answer?” the colonel -asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, certainly; we had an address given, The -Palace Hotel, Mr. John G. Makers. We wired -Mr. Makers—in cipher. ‘Despatch received. Will -attend to it,’ I signed. And I wired to the manager -of the hotel to notice the man who took the -despatch. It wasn’t a man, it was a lady.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span>“A lady?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, she had an order for Mr. Makers’ telegrams. -Mr. Makers gave the order. Mr. Makers -himself only stopped one night and went away in -the morning and nobody seemed to remember him -particularly; he was a nondescript sort of party.”</p> - -<p>“But the lady?” The colonel’s mouth felt dry.</p> - -<p>“The lady? She was tall, fine figure, well -dressed, dark hair, the telegraph girl thought, but -she didn’t pay any special attention. She had a -very pleasant, musical voice.”</p> - -<p>“That doesn’t seem to be very definite,” remarked -the colonel with a crooked smile.</p> - -<p>It didn’t look like a clue to Warnebold, either; -but he was convinced of one thing, namely, that -it would pay to watch the ex-secretary.</p> - -<p>“And,” chuckled he, “there’s a cheerful side to -the affair. Atkins is loaded to the guards with -short contracts; and the Midland is booming; if -the rise continues, he can’t cover without losing -about all he has. By the way, we got another wire -later in the day demanding what we were about, -what it all meant that we hadn’t obeyed instructions. -Same address for answer. This time we -thought we had laid a nice trap. But you can’t -reckon on a hotel; somehow, before we got warning,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span> -Mr. Makers had telephoned for his despatch -and got it.”</p> - -<p>“Where did he telephone from?”</p> - -<p>“From his room in the Palace.”</p> - -<p>“I thought he had given up his room?”</p> - -<p>“He had. But—somebody telephoned to the -telegraph office from somewhere in the hotel and -got Mr. Makers’ wire. You can get pretty much -everything except a moderate bill out of a hotel.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” said the colonel and immediately in his -heart compared himself to the immortal “blind -man;” for his wits appeared to him to be tramping -round futilely in a maze; no nearer the exit -than when the tramp began.</p> - -<p>That night, after Warnebold had departed, -leaving most effusive thanks and expressions of -confidence, Winter was standing at his window -absently looking at the garden faintly colored by -the moonlight, while his mind was plying back -and forth between half a dozen contradictions.</p> - -<p>He went over the night of the attack on Keatcham; -he summoned every look, every motion of -Janet Smith; in one phase of feeling he cudgeled -himself for a wooden fool who had been absolutely -brutal to a defenseless woman who trusted -him; he hated himself for the way he would not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span> -see her when she looked toward him; no wonder -at last she stiffened, and now she absolutely -avoided him! But, in a swift revulsion against -his own softness he was instantly laying on the -blows as lustily because of his incredible, pig-headed -credulity. How absolutely simple the -thing was! She <i>cared</i> for this scoundrel of an Atkins -who had first betrayed his employer and then -tried to murder him. Very likely they had been -half engaged down there in Virginia; and he had -crawled out of his engagement; it would be quite -like the cur! Later he found that just such a distinguished, -charming woman, who had family -and friends, was what he wanted; it would be easy -enough for him to warm up his old passion, curse -him! Then, he had met her and run in a bunch -of plausible lies that had convinced her that he -had been a regular angel in plain clothes; hadn’t -done a thing to Cary or to her. Atkins was such -a smooth devil! Winter could just picture him -whining to the girl, putting his life in her hands -and all that rot; and making all kinds of a tool of -her—why, the whole hand was on the board! So -she was ready to throw them all overboard to -save Atkins from getting his feet wet. That was -why she looked so pale and haggard of a morning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span> -sometimes, in spite of that ready smile of hers; -that was why her eyes were so wistful; she wasn’t -a false woman and she sickened of her squalid -part. She loved Aunt Rebecca and Archie—all -the same, she would turn them both down for -him; while as to Rupert Winter, late of the United -States army, a worn-out, lame, elderly idiot who -had flung away the profession he loved and every -chance of a future career in order to have his -hands free to keep her out of danger—where were -there words blistering enough for such puppy-dog -folly! At this point in his jealous imaginings the -pain in him goaded him into motion; he began -furiously pacing the room, although his lame leg, -which he had been using remorselessly all day, -was sending jabs and twists of agony through -him. But after a little he halted again before the -casement window.</p> - -<p>The wide, darkening view; the great, silent city -with its myriad lights; the shining mist of the -bay; the foot-hills with their sheer, straw-colored -streaks through the forests and vineyards; the illimitable -depths of star-sown, violet sky—all these -touched his fevered mood with a sudden calm. -His unrest was quieted, as one whose senses are -cooled by a running stream.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span>“You hot-headed Southerner!” he upbraided -himself, “don’t get up in the air without any real -proof!”</p> - -<p>Almost in the flitting of the words through his -brain he saw her. The white gown, which was her -constant wear in the sick-room, defined her figure -clearly against a clump of Japan plum-trees. -Their purplish red foliage rustled; and an unseen -fountain beyond made a delicate tinkle of water -splashing a marble basin. Her face was hidden; -only the moonlight gently drew the oval of her -cheek. She was standing still, except that one foot -was groping back and forth as if trying to find -something. But, as he looked, his face growing -tender, she knelt on the sod and pulled something -out of the ground. This something she seemed to -dust off with her handkerchief—he could not see -the object, but he could see the flutter of the handkerchief; -and when she rose the white linen partly -hid the thing in her hand. Only partly, because -when she passed around the terrace wall the glow -from an electric lantern, in an arch, fell full upon -her and burnished a long, thin blade of steel.</p> - -<p>He looked down on her from his unlighted -chamber; and suddenly she looked up straight at -the windows of the room where she thought he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span> -was sleeping; and smiled a dim, amused, weary, -tender smile. Then she sped by, erect and light of -foot; and the deep shadow of the great gateway -took her. All he could see was the moonlight on -the bluish green lawn; and the white electric light -on the gleaming rubber-trees and dusty palms.</p> - -<p>He sat down. He clasped his hands over his -knee. He whistled softly a little Spanish air. He -laughed very gently. “My dear little girl,” said -he, “I am going to marry you. You may be swindled -into helping a dozen murderers; but I am -going to marry you!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI<br /> - -<small>THE REAL EDWIN KEATCHAM</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>One Sunday after Mrs. Melville Winter and -Archie came to Casa Fuerte, Mr. Keatcham sent -for the colonel. There was nothing unusual in -such a summons. From the beginning of his illness -he had shown a curious, inexpressive desire -for the soldier’s company. He would have him -sit in the room, although too weak to talk to him, -supposing he wished to talk, which was not at all -sure. “I like-to-see-him-just-sitting-there,” he faltered -to his nurse, “can’t-he-read-or-play-solitaire-like-the-old-lady?”</p> - -<p>Sometimes Winter would be conscious that the -feeble creature in the bed, with the bluish-white -face, was staring at him. Whether the glassy eyes -beheld his figure or went beyond him to unfinished -colossal schemes that might change the fate of a -continent, or drifted backward to the poverty-stricken -home, the ferocious toil and the unending -self-denial of Keatcham’s youth on the Pacific<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span> -slope, the dim gaze gave no clue. All that was -apparent was that it was always on Winter, as he -curled his legs under his chair, wrote or knitted -his brow over rows of playing-cards.</p> - -<p>At the very first, Keatcham’s mind had wandered; -he used to shrink from imaginary people -who were in the room; he would try to talk to -them, distressing himself painfully, for he was so -weak that his nurses turned his head on the pillow; -he would feebly motion them away. In such aberrations -he would sometimes appeal, in a changed, -thin, childish voice, to the obscure, toil-worn -pioneer woman who had died while he was a lad. -“Mother, I <i>was</i> a good boy; I always got up when -you called me, didn’t I? I helped you iron when -the other boys were playing—mother, please don’t -let that old woman stay and cry here!” Or he -would plead: “Mother, tell her, say, <i>you</i> tell her -I didn’t know her son would kill himself—I -couldn’t tell—he was a damn coward, anyhow—excuse -me, mama, I didn’t mean to swear, but -they make me so awful mad!” There was a girl -who came, sometimes, from whose presence he -shrank; a girl he had never seen; nor, indeed, had -he ever known in the flesh any of the shapes -which haunted him. They had lived; but never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span> -had his eyes fallen on them. Nevertheless, their -presence was as real to him as that of the people -about him whom he could hear and touch and see. -It did not take Winter’s imagination long to piece -out the explanation of these apparitions: they -were specters of the characters in those dramas -of ruthless conquest which Mercer had culled out -of newspaper “stories” and affidavits and court -reports and forced upon Keatcham’s attention. -Miss Smith helped him to the solution, although -her own ignorance of Mercer’s method was puzzling. -“How did he ever know old Mrs. Ferris?” -she said. “He called her Ferris and he talks about -her funny dress—she always did wear a queer little -basque and full skirt after all the world went -into blouses—but how did <i>he</i> ever come across -her? They had a place on the James that had -been in the family a hundred years and had to -lose it on account of the Tidewater; and Nelson -Ferris blew his brains out.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you know how?” asked the colonel. -“Well, I’ll tell you my guess sometime. Who is -the girl who seems to make him throw a fit so?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not sure; I imagine it is poor Mabel Ray; -there were two of them, sisters; they made money -out of their Tidewater stock and went to New<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span> -York to visit some kin; and they got scared when -the stock fell and the dividends stopped; and they -sold out at a great loss. They never did come -back; they had persuaded all their kin to invest; -and the stopping of the dividends made it difficult -for some of the poor ones—Mabel said she -couldn’t face her old aunts. She went on the stage -in New York. She was very pretty; she wasn’t -very strong. Anyway, you can imagine the end -of the story. I saw her in the park last winter -when Mrs. Winter was in New York; she turned -her face away—poor Mabel!”</p> - -<p>Through Janet Smith’s knowledge of her dead -sister’s neighbors, Winter got a dozen pitiful records -of the wreckage of the Tidewater. “Mighty -interesting reading,” he thought grimly, “but -hardly likely to make the man responsible for -them stuck on himself!” Then he would look at -the drawn face on the pillow and listen to the babblings -of the boy who had had no childhood; and -the frown would melt off his brow.</p> - -<p>He did not always talk to his mother when his -mind wandered; several times he addressed an invisible -presence as “Helen” and “Dear” with an -accent of tenderness very strange on those inflexible -lips. When he talked to this phantasm he was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span> -never angry or distressed; his turgid scowl -cleared; the austere lines chiseling his cheeks and -brow faded; he looked years younger. But for -the most part, it was to no unreal creature that he -turned, but to Colonel Rupert Winter. He would -address him with punctilious civility, but as one -who was under some obligation to assist him, saying, -for instance, “Colonel Winter, I must beg -you not to let those persons in the room again. -They annoy me. But you needn’t let Mercer know -that. Please attend to it yourself, and get them -away. Miss Smith says you will. Explain to them -that when I get up I will investigate their claims. -I’m too sick now!”</p> - -<p>Conscious and free from fever, he was barely -able to articulate, but when delirious fancies possessed -him he could talk rapidly, in a good voice. -Very soon it was clear that he was calmer for the -colonel’s presence. Hence, the latter got into the -habit of sitting in the room. He would request -imaginary ruined and desperate beings to leave -Keatcham in peace; he would gravely rise and -close the door on their departure. He never was -surprised nor at a loss; and his dramatic nerve -never failed. Later, as the visions faded, a moody -reserve wrapped the sick man. He lay motionless,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span> -evidently absorbed by thought. In one way he -was what doctors call a very good patient. He -obeyed all directions; he was not restless. But -neither was he ever cheerful. Every day he asked -for his pulse record and his temperature and his -respiration. After a consultation with the doctor, -Miss Smith gave them to him.</p> - -<p>“It is against the rules,” grumbled the doctor, -“but I suppose each patient has to make his own -rules.” On the same theory he permitted the colonel’s -visits.</p> - -<p>Therefore, with no surprise, Winter received -and obeyed the summons. Keatcham greeted him -with his usual stiff courtesy.</p> - -<p>“The doctor says I can have the—papers—will -you pick out—the—one—day after I was -stabbed.”</p> - -<p>Miss Smith indicated a pile on a little table, -placed ready at hand. “I kept them for him,” she -said.</p> - -<p>“Read about—the Midland,” commanded the -faint, indomitable voice.</p> - -<p>“Want the election and the newspaper sentiments?” -asked the colonel; he gave it all, conscious -the while of Janet Smith’s compassionate, -perplexed, sorrowful eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span>“Don’t skip!” Keatcham managed to articulate -after a pause.</p> - -<p>The colonel gave him a keen glance. “Want it -straight, without a chaser?”</p> - -<p>Keatcham closed his eyes and nodded.</p> - -<p>The colonel read about the virtually unanimous -election of Tracy; the astonishment of the outsiders -among the supposed anti-Tracy element; -the composed and impenetrable front of the men -closest to Keatcham; the reticence and amiability -of Tracy himself, in whose mien there could be -detected no hint either of hostility or of added -cordiality toward the men who had been expected -“to drag his bleeding pride in the dust;” finally of -the response of the stock-market in a phenomenal -rise of Midland.</p> - -<p>Keatcham listened with his undecipherable -mask of attention; there was not so much as the -flicker of an eyelid or the twitch of a muscle. All -he said was: “Now, read if there is anything -about the endowment of the new fellowships in -some medical schools for experimental research.”</p> - -<p>“Who gives the endowment?”</p> - -<p>“Anonymous. In memory of Maria Warren -Keatcham and Helen Bradford Keatcham. Find -anything?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span>The colonel found a great deal about it. The -paper was full of this munificent gift, amounting -to many millions of dollars and filling (with -most carefully and wisely planned details) an -almost absolute vacuum in the American scheme -of education. The dignity and fame of the chairs -and fellowships endowed were ample to tempt the -best ability of the profession. The reader grew enthusiastic -as he read.</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s immense! And we have always -needed it!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“There are some letters about it, there,”—Keatcham -feebly motioned to a number of neatly -opened, neatly assorted letters on a desk. “The -doctor said I might have the letters read to me. -Miss Smith got him to. For fear of exciting you, -the doctors usually let you worry your head off -because you don’t know about things. I’ve got to -carry a few things through if it kills me. Don’t -you see?”</p> - -<p>“I see,” said the colonel, “you shall.”</p> - -<p>The next time he saw the financier, although -only a few days had elapsed, he was much -stronger; he was able to breathe comfortably, he -spoke with ease, in his ordinary voice; in fine, he -looked his old self again, merely thinner and paler.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span> -Hardly was the colonel seated before he said -without preface—Keatcham never made approaches -to his subject, regarding conversational -road-making as waste of brains for a busy man:</p> - -<p>“Colonel, Miss Smith hasn’t time to be my -nurse and secretary both. I won’t have one sent -from New York; will you help her out?”</p> - -<p>The colonel’s lips twitched; he was thinking -that were Miss Smith working for Atkins, she -couldn’t have a better chance to make a killing. -“But I’ll bet my life she isn’t,” he added; “she -may be trying to save his life, but she isn’t playing -his game!”</p> - -<p>He said aloud: “I will, Mr. Keatcham, if you -will let me do it as part of the obligation of the -situation; and there is no bally rot about compensation.”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” said Keatcham. He did not hesitate; -it was (as the colonel had already discovered) -the rarest thing in the world for him to -hesitate; he thought with astonishing rapidity; -and he formulated his answer while his interlocutor -talked; before the speech was over the answer -was ready. Another trait of his had struck the -soldier, namely, the laborious correctness of his -speech; it was often formal and old-fashioned;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span> -Aunt Rebecca said that he talked like Daniel -Webster’s speeches; but it had none of the homely -and pungent savor one might expect from a man -whose boyhood had scrambled through miners’ -camps into a San Francisco stock office; who had -never gone to school in his life by daylight; who -had been mine superintendent, small speculator -and small director in California until he became -a big speculator and big railway controller in -New York.</p> - -<p>“You might begin on the morning mail,” -Keatcham continued. “Let me sort them first.” -He merely glanced at the inscriptions on the envelopes, -opening and taking out one which he read -rather carelessly, frowning a little before he -placed it to one side.</p> - -<p>A number of the letters concerned the endowments -of the experimental chairs at the universities. -Keatcham’s attention was not lightened by -any ray of pleasure. Once he said: “That fellow -has caught my idea,” and once: “That’s right,” -but there was no animation in his voice, no interest -in his pallid face. Stealing a furtive scrutiny -of it, now and then, Rupert Winter was impressed -with its mystical likeness to that of Cary Mercer. -There was no physical similarity of color or feature;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span> -it was a likeness of the spirit rather than the -flesh. The colonel’s eyes flashed.</p> - -<p>“I have it!” he exclaimed within, “I have it; -they are fanatics, both of them; Keatcham’s a -fanatic of finance and Mercer is a fanatic of another -sort; but fanatics they both are, ready to go -any length for their principles or their ambitions -or their revenge! <i>J’ai trouvé le mot d’énigme</i>, -as Aunt Becky would say—I wonder what -she’ll say to this sudden psychological splurge of -mine.”</p> - -<p>“The business hour is up,”—it was Miss Smith -entering with a bowl on a white-covered tray; the -sun glinted the lump of ice in the milk and the -silver spoon was dazzling against the linen—“your -biscuit and milk, Mr. Keatcham. Didn’t -you have it when you were a boy?”</p> - -<p>“I did, Miss Janet,”—and Keatcham actually -smiled. “I used to think crackers and milk the -nicest thing in the world.”</p> - -<p>“That is because you never tasted corn pone -and milk; but you are going to.”</p> - -<p>“When you make it for me. I’m glad you’re -such a good cook. It’s one of your ways I like. -My mother was a very good cook. She could -make better dishes out of almost nothing than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span> -these mongrel chefs can make with the whole -world.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon she could,” said Miss Smith; she was -speaking sincerely.</p> - -<p>“When my father didn’t strike pay dirt, my -mother would open her bakery and make pies for -the miners; she could make bread with potato -yeast or ‘salt-emptins’—can you make salt-rising -bread?”</p> - -<p>“I can—shall I make you some, to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“I’d like it. My mother used to make more -money than my father; sometimes when we children -were low in clothes and dad owed a bigger -lot of money than usual, we had a laundry at our -house as well as a bakery. Yet, in spite of all the -work, my mother found time to teach all of us; -and she knew how to teach, too; for she was principal -of a school when my father married her. -She was a New Englander; so was he; but they -went West. We’re forty-niners. I saw the place -where our little cloth-and-board shack used to -stand. After the big fire, you know. It burned us -all up; we had saved a good deal and my mother -had a nice bakery. She worked too hard; it killed -her. Work and struggle and losing the children.”</p> - -<p>“They died?” said Miss Janet.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span>“Diphtheria. They didn’t know anything about -the disease then. We all had it; and my little sister -and both my brothers died; but I’m tough. -I lived. My mother fell into what they called a -decline. I was making a little money then—I was -sixteen; but I couldn’t keep her from working. -Perhaps it made no difference; but it did make a -difference her not having the—the right kind of -food. Nobody knew anything about consumption -then. I used to go out in the morning and be -afraid I’d find her dead when I got back. One -night I did.” He stopped abruptly, crimsoning up -to his eyes—“I don’t know why I’m telling you -all this.”</p> - -<p>“I call that tough,”—as the colonel blurted out -the words, he was conscious of a sense of repetition. -When had he said those very same words -before, to whom? Of all people in the world, to -Cary Mercer. “Mighty tough,” murmured he -softly.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Keatcham, “it was.” He did not -say anything more. Neither did the colonel. -Keatcham obediently ate his milk and biscuit; -and very shortly the colonel took his leave.</p> - -<p>The next morning after an uneventful hour of -sorting, reading and answering letters for Miss<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span> -Smith to copy on the traveling type-writer, -Keatcham gave his new secretary a sharp sensation; -he ordered in his quiet but peremptory -fashion: “Now put that trash away; sit down; -tell me all you know of Cary—real name is Cary -Mercer, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>The colonel said it was; he asked him if he -wanted everything.</p> - -<p>“Everything. Straight. Without a chaser,” -snapped Keatcham.</p> - -<p>The colonel gave it to him. He began with -his own acquaintance; he told about Phil Mercer; -he did not slur a detail; neither did he underscore -one; Keatcham got the uncolored facts. He heard -them impassively, making only one comment: -“A great deal of damage would be saved in this -world if youngsters could be shut up until they -had sense enough not to fool with firearms.” -When Winter came to Mercer’s own exposition -of his motives and his design if successful in his -raid on the kings of the market, Keatcham grunted; -at the end he breathed a noiseless jet of a -sigh. “You don’t think Mercer is at all”—he -tapped the side of the head.</p> - -<p>“No more than you are.”</p> - -<p>“Or you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span>“Oh, well,” the colonel jested, “we all have a -prejudice in favor of our own sanity. What I -meant was that Mercer is a bit of a fanatic; his -hard luck has—well, prejudiced him—”</p> - -<p>Keatcham’s cold, firm lips straightened into his -peculiar smile, which was rather of perception -than of humor.</p> - -<p>One might say of him—Aunt Rebecca Winter -did say of him—that he saw the incongruous, -which makes up for humor, but he never enjoyed -it; possibly it was only another factor in his contempt -of mankind.</p> - -<p>“Colonel,” said Keatcham, “do you think Wall -Street is a den of thieves?”</p> - -<p>“I do,” said the colonel promptly. “I should -like to take a machine gun or two and clean you -all out.”</p> - -<p>Keatcham did not smile; he blinked his eyes -and nodded. “I presume a good many people -share your opinion of us.”</p> - -<p>“Millions,” replied the colonel.</p> - -<p>Again Keatcham nodded. “I thought so,” said -he. “Of course you are all off; Wall Street is as -necessary to the commonwealth as the pores to -your skin; they don’t make the poison in the system -any more than the pores do; they only let it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span> -escape. And I suppose you think that big financiers -who control the trusts and the railways -and—”</p> - -<p>“Us,” the colonel struck in, “well?”</p> - -<p>“You think we are thieves and liars and murderers -and despots?”</p> - -<p>“All of that,” said the colonel placidly; “also -fools.”</p> - -<p>“You certainly don’t mince your words.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t want me to. What use would my -opinion be in a one-thousandth attenuation? -You’re no homeopath; and whatever else you may -be, you’re no coward.”</p> - -<p>“Yet, you think I surrendered to Mercer? You -think I did it because I was afraid he would -kill me? I suppose he would have killed me if I -hadn’t, eh?”</p> - -<p>“He can speak for himself about that; he -seems—well, an earnest sort of man. But I don’t -think you gave in because you were afraid, if that -is what you mean. You are no more afraid than he -was! You wanted to live, probably; you had big -things on hand. The Midland was only a trump -in the game; you could win the odd trick with -something else; you let the Midland go.”</p> - -<p>“Pretty close,”—Keatcham really smiled—“but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span> -there is a good deal more of it. I was shut up with -the results of my—my work. He did it very -cleverly. I had nothing to distract me. There -were the big type-written pages about the foolish -people who had lost their money, in some cases -really through my course, mostly because they -got scared and let go and were wiped out when, -if they had had confidence in me and held on, they -would be very much better off, now. But they -didn’t, and they were ruined and they starved and -took their boys out of college and mortgaged their -confounded homes that had been in their families -ever since Adam; and the old people died of -broken hearts and the girls went wrong and some -of the idiotic quitters killed themselves—it was -not the kind of crowd you would want shut up -with you in the dark! I was shut up with them. -He had some sort of way of switching off the -lights from the outside. I never saw a face or -heard a voice. I would have to sit there in the -dark after he thought I had read enough to -occupy my mind. It—was unpleasant. Perhaps -you suppose that brought me round to his way of -thinking?”</p> - -<p>The colonel meditated. “I’ll tell you honestly,” -he said after a pause, “I was of that opinion, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span> -something of the kind, until I talked your case -over with my aunt—”</p> - -<p>“The old dame is not a fool; what did she say?”</p> - -<p>“She said no, he didn’t convert you; but he -convinced you how other people looked at your -methods. You couldn’t get round the fact that a -majority of your countrymen think your type of -financier is worse than smallpox, and more contagious.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she put it that way, did she? I wish she -would write a prospectus for me. Well, you -think she was nearer right than you?”</p> - -<p>“I think <i>you</i> do; I myself think it was a little -of both. You’ve got a heart and a conscience -originally, though they have got pretty well -tanned out in the weather; you didn’t want to be -sorry for those people, but you are. They have -bothered you a lot; but it has bothered you more -to think that instead of going down the ages as a -colossal benefactor and empire builder, you are -hung up on the hook to see where you’re at; -and where you <i>will</i> be if the people get thoroughly -aroused. You all are building bigger balloons -when it ought to be you for the cyclone cellar! -But <i>you</i> are different. You can see ahead. I give -you credit for seeing.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span>“Have you ever considered,” said Keatcham -slowly, “that in spite of the iniquitous greed of -the men you are condemning, in spite of their -oppression of the people, the prosperity of the -country is unparalleled? How do you explain it?”</p> - -<p>“Crops,” said the colonel; “the crops were too -big for you.”</p> - -<p>“You might give <i>us</i> a little credit—your aunt -does. She was here to-day; she is a manufacturer -and she comprehended that the methods of business -can not be revolutionized without somebody’s -getting hurt. Yet, on the whole, the change -might be immensely advantageous. Now, why, -in a nutshell, do you condemn us?”</p> - -<p>“You’re after the opinion of the average man, -are you?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so, the high average.”</p> - -<p>The colonel crossed his legs and uncrossed -them again; he looked straight into the other’s -eyes; his own narrowed with thought.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you,” said he. “I don’t know much -about the Street or high finance or industrial development. -I’m a plain soldier; I’m not a manufacturer -and I’m not a speculator. I understand -perfectly that you can’t have great changes without -somebody’s getting hurt in the shuffle. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span> -is beyond me to decide whether the new industrial -arrangements with the stock-jobber on top -instead of the manufacturer will make for better -or for worse—but I know this; it is against the -fundamental law to do evil that good may come. -And you fellows in Wall Street, when, to get rich -quick, you lie about stocks in order to buy -cheap and then lie another way to sell dear; when -you make a panic out of whole cloth, as you did -in 1903, because, having made about all you can -out of things going up, you want to make all you -can out of them going down; when you play foot-ball -with great railway properties and insurance -properties, because you are as willing to rob the -dead as the living; when you do all that, and -when your imitators, who haven’t so much brains -or so much decency as you, when <i>they</i> buy up -legislatures and city councils; and <i>their</i> imitators -run the Black Hand business and hold people up -who have money and are not strong enough, -they think, to hunt them down—why, not being -a philosopher but just a plain soldier, I call it bad, -<i>rotten</i> bad. What’s more, I can tell you the American -people won’t stand for it.”</p> - -<p>“You think they can help themselves?”</p> - -<p>“I know they can. You fellows are big, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span> -you won’t last over night if the American people -get really aroused. And they are stirring in their -sleep and kicking off the bed-clothes.”</p> - -<p>“Yet you ought to belong to the conservatives.”</p> - -<p>“I do. That’s why the situation is dangerous. -You as an old San Franciscan ought to remember -how conservative was that celebrated Vigilance -Committee. It is when the long-suffering, pusillanimous, -conservative element gets fighting mad -that something is doing.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” muttered Keatcham thoughtfully. “I -believe we can manage for you better than you -can for yourselves; but when the brakes are -broken good driving can’t stop the machine; all -the chauffeur can do is to keep the middle of the -road. I like to be beaten as little as any of them; -but I’m not a fool. Winter, you are used to accomplishing -things; what is your notion of the -secret?”</p> - -<p>“Knowing when to stop exhausting trumps, I -reckon—but you don’t play cards.”</p> - -<p>“It is the same old game whatever you play,” -said the railway king. He did not pursue the -discussion; his questions, Winter had found, invariably -had a purpose, and that purpose was -never argument. He lay back on the big leather<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span> -cushions of the lounge, his long, lean fingers -drumming on the table beside him and an odd -smile playing about the corners of his mouth; -his next speech dived into new waters. He said: -“Have those men from New York got Atkins, -yet?”</p> - -<p>“They couldn’t find him,” answered the colonel. -“I have been having him shadowed, on my -own idea—I think he stabbed you, though I have -no proof of it; I take it you have proof of your -matter.”</p> - -<p>“Plenty,” said Keatcham. “I was going to -send him to the pen in self-defense. It isn’t safe -for me to have it creep out that my secretary -made a fortune selling my secrets. Besides, I -don’t want to be killed. You say they can’t find -him?”</p> - -<p>“Seems to have gone to Japan—”</p> - -<p>“Seems? What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“I am not sure. He was booked for a steamer; -and a man under his name, of his build and color, -did actually sail on the boat,” announced the -colonel blandly.</p> - -<p>“Hmn! He’s right here in San Francisco; read -that note.”</p> - -<p>Winter read the note, written on Palace Hotel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span> -note-paper, in a sharp, scrawling, Italian hand. -The contents were sufficiently startling.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Dear friend Hoping this find you well. Why do you -disregard a true Warning? We did write you afore once -for say you give that money or we shal be unfortunately -compel to kill you quick. No? You laff. God knows we got -have that twenty-five thousan dol. Yes. And now because -of such great expence it is fifty thousan you shall pay. We -did not mean kill you dead only show you for sure there -is no place so secret you can Hide no place so strong can -defend you. Be Warn. You come with $50000.00 in $100 -bills. You go or send Mr. Mercer to the Red Hat; ask -for Louis. Say to Louis For the Black Hand. Louis will -say For the Black Hand. You follow him. No harm will -come to you. You will be forgive all heretobefores. Elseways -you must die April 15-20. <i>This is sure</i>. You have -felt our dagger the other is worse.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright2">You well wishing Fren,</span><br /> -The Black Hand.</p> -</div> - -<p>“Sounds like Atkins pretending to be a Dago,” -said the colonel dryly. “I could do better myself.”</p> - -<p>“Very likely,” said Keatcham.</p> - -<p>“Does he mean business? What’s he after?”</p> - -<p>“To get me out of the way. He knows he isn’t -safe until I’m dead. Then he hasn’t been cleaned -out, but he has lost a lot of money in this Midland -business. The cipher he has is of no use to him, -there, or in the other things which unluckily he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span> -knows about. With me dead and the cipher in his -hands, he could have made millions; even without -the cipher, if he knows I’m dead before the rest of -the world, he ought to make at least a half-million. -I think you will find that he has put everything -he has on the chance. I told you he was -slick. And unstable. What do you anticipate he -will do? Straight, with no chaser, as you say.”</p> - -<p>“Well, straight with no chaser, I should say a -bomb was the meanest trick in sight, so, naturally, -he will choose a bomb.”</p> - -<p>“I agree with you. You say the house is -patrolled?”</p> - -<p>“The whole place. But we’ll put on a bigger -force; I’ll see Birdsall at once. Atkins would -have to hire his explosive talent, wouldn’t he?” -questioned the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he knows plenty of the under-world rascals; -and besides, for a fellow of his habits, there -is a big chance for loot. Mrs. Millicent Winter -tells me that your aunt has valuable jewels with -her. If she told me, she may have told other people, -and Atkins may know. He will use other -people, but he will come, too, in my opinion.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” said the colonel; “to make sure they -don’t foozle the bomb. But he’ll have his alibi<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span> -ready all right. Mr. Keatcham, did they send -you a previous letter?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear no; that’s only part of the game; -makes a better story. So is using the hotel paper; -if it throws suspicion on anybody it would be -your party; you see Atkins knew Mercer had a -grudge against me as well as him. He was counting -on that. I rather wonder that he didn’t fix -up some proof for you to find.”</p> - -<p>“By Jove!” cried the colonel; “maybe he did.”</p> - -<p>“And you didn’t find it?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you see I was too busy with you; the -others must have overlooked it. Hard on Atkins -after he took so much trouble, wasn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“I told you he was too subtle. But it is not -wise to underrate him, or bombs either; we must -get the women and those boys out of the house.”</p> - -<p>“But how? You are not really acquainted with -my aunt, Mrs. Rebecca Winter, I take it.”</p> - -<p>“You think she wouldn’t go if there was any -chance of danger?”</p> - -<p>“You couldn’t fire her unless out of a cannon; -but she would help get Archie away; Mrs. Melville -and Miss Smith—”</p> - -<p>“Well—ur—Miss Smith, I am afraid, will not -be easy to manage; you see, she knows—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span>“Knows? Did you tell her?” asked Colonel -Winter anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Well, not exactly. As the children say, it told -itself. There has been a kind of an attempt, already. -A box came, marked from a man I know -in New York, properly labeled with express company’s -labels. Miss Smith opened it; I could see -her, because she was in the bath-room with the -door open. There was another box inside, -wrapped in white tissue paper. Very neatly. She -examined that box with singular care and then -she drew some water in the lavatory basin, half -opened the box and put the whole thing under -water in the basin. Then I thought it was time -for me and I asked her if it was a bomb. Do you -know that girl had sense enough not to try to -deceive me? She saw that I had seen every move -she had made. She said merely that it was safe -under water. It was an ingenious little affair -which had an electrical arrangement for touching -off a spark when the lid of the box would be -lifted.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes. Thoughtful little plan to amuse an -invalid by letting him open the box, himself, to -see the nice surprises from New York. Very -neat, indeed. What did you do with the box?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span>“Nothing, so far. It only came about an hour -ago.”</p> - -<p>“Do you reckon some of the Black Hands are -out on the street, rubbering to see if there are any -signs of anything doing?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps; you might let Birdsall keep a watch -for anything like that. But they hear, somehow; -there is a leak somewhere in our establishment. -It is not your aunt; she can hold her tongue as -well as use it; the boy, Archie, does not know -anything to tell—”</p> - -<p>“He wouldn’t tell it if he did,” interrupted -the colonel; and very concisely but with evident -pride he gave Archie’s experience in the Chinese -quarter.</p> - -<p>Keatcham’s comment took the listener’s breath -away; so far afield was it and so unlike his experience -of the man; it was: “Winter, a son like -that would be a good deal of a comfort, wouldn’t -he?”</p> - -<p>“Poor little chap!” said Winter. “He hasn’t -any father to be proud of him—father and mother -both dead.”</p> - -<p>Keatcham eyed Winter thoughtfully a moment, -then he said: “You’ve been married and lost -children, your aunt says. That must be hard.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span> -But—did you ever read that poem of James -Whitcomb Riley’s to his friend whose child was -dead? It’s true what he says—they were better -off than he ‘who had no child to die.’”</p> - -<p>Rupert was looking away from the speaker -with the instinctive embarrassment of a man who -surprises the deeper feelings of another. He -could see out of the window the lovely April garden -and Janet Smith amid the almond blossoms. -Only her shining black head and her white shoulders -and bodice rose above the pink clusters. -She looked up and nodded, seeing him; her face -was a little pale, but she was smiling.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” he said, “it’s hard enough -either way for a man.”</p> - -<p>“I never lost any children”—Keatcham’s tone -was dry, still, but it had not quite the former -desiccated quality—“but I was married, for a -little while. If it’s as bad to lose your children -as it is to lose the hope of having them, it must -be hard. You lost your wife, too?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Rupert Winter.</p> - -<p>At this moment he became conscious that -Keatcham was avoiding his gaze in the very -manner of his avoiding of Keatcham’s a moment -ago; and it gave him a bewildering sensation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span>“I wanted to marry my wife for seven years -before we were married,” Keatcham continued -in that carefully monotonous voice. “She was the -daughter of the superintendent of the mine where -I was working. I was only eighteen when I first -saw her. I was twenty-five when we were married. -She used to give me lessons; she was educated -and accomplished. She did more than is -easy telling, for me. Of course, her parents were -opposed at first because they looked higher for her, -but she brought them round by her patience and -her sweetness and her faith in me. Six months -after we were married, she had an accident which -left her a helpless invalid in a wheeled chair, at -the best; at the worst, suffering—you’ve known -what it is to see anybody, whom you care for, in -horrible pain and trying not to show it when you -come near?”</p> - -<p>“I have,” said Winter; “merry hell, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“I have seen that expression,” said Keatcham; -“I never recognized its peculiar appropriateness -before. Yes, it is that. Yet, Winter, those two -years she lived afterwards were the happiest of -my whole life. She said, the last night she was -with me, that they had been the happiest of hers.” -The same flush which once before, when he had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span> -seemed moved, had crept up to his temples, burned -his hollow cheeks. He was holding the edge of -the table with the tips of his fingers and the blood -settled about the nails with the pressure of his -grip. There was an intense moment during which -Winter vainly struggled to think of something to -say and looked more of his sympathy than he was -aware; then: “Cary Mercer needn’t think that he -has had all the hard times in the world!” said -Keatcham in his usual toneless voice, relaxing -his hold and leaning back on his pillows. The -color ebbed away gradually from his face.</p> - -<p>“I don’t wonder you didn’t marry again,” said -Winter.</p> - -<p>“You would not wonder if you had known -Helen. She always understood. Of course, now, -at sixty-one, I could buy a pretty, innocent, young -girl who would do as her parents bade her, and -cry her eyes out before the wedding, or a handsome -and brilliant society woman with plenty of -matrimonial experience—but I don’t want them. -I should have to explain myself to them; I don’t -know how to explain myself; you see I can’t half -do it—”</p> - -<p>“I reckon I understand a little.”</p> - -<p>“I guess you do. You are different, too. Well,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span> -let’s get down to business, think up some way of -getting the women out of the house; and get your -sleuths after Atkins. It is ‘we get him, or he gets -us!’”</p> - -<p>The amateur secretary assented and prepared -to go, for the valet was at the door, ready to relieve -him; but opposite Keatcham, he paused a -second, made a pretense of hunting for his hat, -picked it up in his left hand and held out the -right hand, saying, “Well, take care of yourself.”</p> - -<p>Keatcham nodded; he shook the hand with a -good firm pressure. “Much obliged, Winter,” -said he.</p> - -<p>“Well,” meditated the soldier as he went his -way, “I never did think to take that financial -bucaneer by the hand; but—it wasn’t the bucaneer, -it was the real Edwin Keatcham.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII<br /> - -<small>IN WHICH THE PUZZLE FALLS INTO PLACE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>While the colonel was trying to decipher his -tragical puzzle, while Edwin Keatcham was -busied with plans that affected empires and incidentally -were to save and to extinguish some -human lives, while Janet Smith had her own -troubles, while Mrs. Rebecca Winter enjoyed -a game more exciting and deadly than Penelope’s -Web, Mrs. Millicent Winter and the younger people -found the days full of joyous business. The -household had fallen into normal ways of living. -Although the secret patrol watched every rod -of approach to the house, the espial was so unobtrusive -that guests came and went, tradesmen -rattled over the driveways; the policemen, themselves, -slumbered by day and loitered majestically -by night without the Casa Fuerte portals, never -suspecting. Little Birdsall had his admirable -points; they were now in evidence. To all outward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span> -seeming, a pleasant house-party was enjoying -the lavish Californian hospitality of Casa -Fuerte; and Black Care was bundled off to the -closet with the family skeleton, according to the -traditions of mannerly people. Arnold had opened -his garage and his stables. There was bridge of -an evening; and the billiard-balls clinked on the -pool-table. Archie could now back the electric -motor into almost any predicament. The new -Chinese chef was a wonder and Tracy was initiating -him into the possibilities of the Fireless, despite -a modest shrinking on the part of the oriental -artist who considered it to be a new kind of -bomb.</p> - -<p>Millicent, encouraged by Arnold, had had Mrs. -Wigglesworth and two errant Daughters, whose -husbands were state regents for Melville’s university, -to luncheon and to dinner; the versatile -Kito donning a chauffeur’s livery and motoring -them back to the city in the Limousine, on both -occasions; all of which redounded to Millicent’s -own proper glory and state.</p> - -<p>Indeed, about this time, Millicent was in high -good humor with her world. Even Janet Smith -was no longer politely obliterated as “the nurse,” -but became “our dear Miss Janet”; and was presented<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span> -with two of Mrs. Melville’s last year’s -Christmas gifts which she could not contrive -to use; therefore carried about for general decorative -generosity. One was a sage-green linen -handkerchief case, quite fresh, on which was -etched, in brown silk, the humorous inscription: -“<span class="allsmcap">WIPE ME BUT DO NOT SWIPE ME</span>!” The other -was a white celluloid brush-broom holder bedecked -with azure forget-me-nots enframing a -complicated monogram which might just as well -stand for J. B. B. S. (Janet Byrd Brandon -Smith) as for M. S. W. (Millicent Sears Winter) -or any other alphabetical herd. These unpretending -but (considering their source) distinguished -gifts she bestowed in the kindest manner. Janet -was no doubt grateful; she embroidered half a -dozen luncheon napkins with Mrs. Melville’s monogram -and crest, in sign thereof; and very prettily, -she being a skilful needle-woman. On her -part, Mrs. Mellville was so pleased that she remarked -to her brother-in-law, shortly after, that -she believed Cousin Angela’s sisters hadn’t been -just to Miss Smith; she was a nice girl; and if -she married (which is quite possible, insinuated -Mrs. Melville archly), she meant to give a tea in -her honor.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span>“Now, that’s right decent of you, Millie,” cried -the colonel; and he smiled gratefully after Mrs. -Melville’s beautifully fitted back. Yet a scant five -minutes before he had been pursuing that same -charming back through the garden terraces, in -a most unbrotherly frame, resolved to give his sister-in-law -a “warning with a fog-horn.” The cause -of said warning was his discovery of her acquaintance -with Atkins. For days a bit of information -had been blistering his mind. It came from the -girl at the telegraph office at the Palace, not in a -bee-line, but indirectly, through her chum, the -girl who booked the theater tickets. It could not -be analyzed properly because the telegraph girl -was gone to Southern California. But before she -went she told the theater girl that the lady who -received Mr. Makers’ wires was one of Mrs. -Winter’s party! This bit of information was like -a live coal underfoot in the colonel’s mind; whenever -he trod on it in his mental excursions he -jumped.</p> - -<p>“Who else but Janet?” he demanded. But by -degrees he became first doubtful, then daring. He -had Birdsall fetch the telegraph girl back to San -Francisco. A ten minutes’ interview assured him -that it was his brother’s wife who had called for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span> -Mr. Makers’ messages, armed with Mr. Makers’ -order.</p> - -<p>Aunt Rebecca was not nearly so vehement as he -when he told her. She listened to his angry criticism -with a lurking smile and a little shrug of -her shoulders.</p> - -<p>“Of course she has butted in, as you tersely -express it, in the language of this mannerless generation; -Millicent always butts in. How did she -get acquainted with this unpleasant, assassinating, -poor white trash? My dear child, <i>she</i> didn’t -probably; he made an acquaintance with her. He -pumped her and lied to her. We know he wanted -to find out Mr. Keatcham’s abode; he may have -got his clue from her; she knew young Arnold -had been to see him. There’s no telling. I only -know that in the interest of keeping a roof over -our heads and having our heads whole instead -of in pieces from explosives, I butted in a few -days ago when somebody wanted Mrs. Melville -Winter on the telephone. I answered it. The person -asked if I was Mrs. Melville Winter; it was -a strange man’s voice. I don’t believe in Christian -Science or theosophy or psychics, but I do believe -I felt in my bones that here was an occasion -to be canny rather than conscientious. You know<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span> -I can talk like Millicent—or anybody else; so I -intoned through the telephone in her silken -Anglican accents, ‘Do you want Mrs. Melville -Winter or Aunt Rebecca, <i>Madam</i> Winter?’ I -hate to be called Madam Winter, and she knows -it, but Millicent is catty, you know, and she -always calls me Madam Winter behind my back. -The fellow fell into the trap at once—recognized -the voice, I dare say, and announced that it was -Mr. Makers; Mr. Atkins, who had left for Japan, -had not been able to pay his respects and say good-by; -but he had left with him an embroidered -Chinese kimono for Professor Winter, whom he -had admired so much; and if it wouldn’t be too -much trouble for her to pay a visit to her friend—one -of those women she had to luncheon, who’s -at the St. Francis—he would like to show her -several left by Mr. Atkins, for her to select one. -Then in the most casual way, he asked after Mr. -Keatcham’s health. I believed he was improving; -had had a very good night. I fancy it didn’t -please him, but he made a good pretense. Then -he went off into remarks about its being such a -pity Mr. Atkins had left Mr. Keatcham; but -he was so conscientious, a Southern gentleman I -knew; yet he really thought a great deal still of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span> -Mr. Keatcham, who had many fine qualities; only -on account of the unfortunate differences—Atkins -was so proud and sensitive; he was anxious -to hear, but not for the world would he have -any one know that he had inquired; so would I -be very careful not to let any one know he had -asked. Of course I would be; I promised effusively; -and said I quite understood. I think I -<i>do</i>, too.”</p> - -<p>“They are keeping tab on us through Millicent,” -fumed the colonel. “I dare say she gave -it away that Arnold was visiting Keatcham at -the hotel; and it wouldn’t take Atkins long to -piece out a good deal more, especially if his spy -overheard Tracy’s ’phone. Well, I shall warn -Millicent—with a fog-horn!”</p> - -<p>The way he warned Millicent has been related. -But from Millicent he deflected to another subject—the -impulse of confession being strong upon -him. He freed his mind about the stains on Cary -Mercer’s cuffs; and, when at last he sought Millicent -he was in his soul praising his aunt for a -wise old woman. After justice was disarmed by -his miscomprehension of Millicent’s words, he -took out his cigarette case and began pacing the -garden walks, smoking and humming a little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span> -Spanish love song, far older than the statehood of -California.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><i>La noche está serena, tranquilo el aquilon;</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>Tu dulce centinella te guarda el corazon.</i></div> -<div class="verse"><i>Y en al as de los céfiros, que vagan par doquier,</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>Volando van mis suplicas, á ti, bella mujer!</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>Volando van mis suplicas, á ti, bella mujer!</i></div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><i>De un corazon que te ama, recibe el tierno amor;</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>No aumentes mas la llama, piedad, á an trobador.</i></div> -<div class="verse"><i>Y si te mueve á lastima eterno padecer,</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>Como te amo, amama, bellissima mujer!</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>Como te amo, amama, bellissima mujer!</i><a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span>The words belonged to the air which he had -whistled a weary week ago. Young Tracy came -along, and caught up the air, although he was -innocent of Spanish; he had his mandolin on his -arm; he proffered it to the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Miss Janet has been singing coon-songs to his -nibs, who is really getting almost human,” he -observed affably; “well, a little patience and interest -will reveal new possibilities of the Fireless -Stove! In man or metal. Shall we get under -his nibs’ window and give him the <i>Bedouin Love -Song</i> and <i>I Picked Me a Lemon in the Garden of -Love</i> and the Sextette from <i>Lucia</i> and other -choice selections? He seemed to be sitting up and -taking notice; let’s lift him above the sordid -thoughts of Wall Street and his plans for busting -other financiers.”</p> - -<p>The soldier gave this persiflage no answer; his -own thoughts were far from gay. He stood drinking -in the beauty of the April night. The air was -wonderfully hushed and clear; and the play of -the moonlight on the great heliotrope bushes and -the rose-trees, which dangled their clusters of -yellow and white over the stone parapets of the -balconies, tinted the leafage and flickered delicately -over the tracery of shadow on the gray<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span> -walls. Not a cloud flecked the vast aërial landscape—only -stars beyond stars, through unfathomable -depths of dim violet, and beneath the -stars a pale moon swimming low in the heavens; -one could see it between the spandrels of the -arches spanning the colonnade.</p> - -<p>“Looks like a prize night-scene on the stage, -doesn’t it?” said Tracy. “Jolly good shadows—and -aren’t these walls bulging out at the bottom -bully? I used to know the right name for such -architectural stunts when I was taking Fine Arts -Four—dreadful to neglect your educational advantages -and then forget all the little you didn’t -neglect, ain’t it? I say, get on to those balconies—that -isn’t the right word for the mission style, -I guess; but never mind; aren’t they stunning? -Do you see the ladies up there? Is that Archie -sniggering? What do you think of the haunted -house, <i>now</i>, Colonel?”</p> - -<p>Tracy’s gay eyes sought the other’s gaze to find -it turn somber. Winter couldn’t have told why; -but a sudden realization of the hideous peril -dogging the warm, lighted, tenanted house, submerged -him and suffocated him like a foul gas. -Let their guards be vigilant as fear, let their -wonderful new search-light flood rock and slope<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span> -and dusky Chaparral bush; and peer as it might -through the forest aisles beyond; yet—yet—who -could tell!</p> - -<p>But he forced an equal smile in a second for -the college boy; and chatted easily enough as -they climbed up the stepped arches to the balcony -and the little group looking seaward.</p> - -<p>Aunt Rebecca in black lace and jewels was -tilting with the world in general and Millicent -Winter in particular; she displayed her most -cynical mood. She had demolished democracy; -had planted herself firmly on the basic doctrine -that the virtues cultivated by slavery far outnumber -its inseparable vices; and that most people, -if not all, need a master; had been picturesquely -and inaccurately eloquent on the subject of dynamite -(which she pronounced the logical fourth -dimension of liberty, fraternity and equality); had -put the yellow rich where they belonged; and the -red anarchists mainly under the sod; and she had -abolished the Fourth of July to the last sputter -of fire-cracker; thence by easy transitions she -had extolled American art (which American patrons -were too ignorant to appreciate), deplored -American music (“The trouble isn’t that it is -<i>canned</i>,” says she, “but that it was spoiled before<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span> -they canned it!”) and was now driving a chariot -of fire through American literature; as for the -Academics, they never said what they thought, -but only what they thought they ought to think; -and they always mistook anemia for refinement, -as another school mistook yelling and perspiring -for vigor.</p> - -<p>Just as Winter modestly entered the arena, no -less a personage than Henry James was under the -wheels. Janet Smith had modestly confessed to -believing him a consummate artist; and Millicent -in an orotund voice declared that he went deep, -deep down into the mysteries of life.</p> - -<p>“I don’t deny it; he <i>ought</i> to get down deep,” -returned Aunt Rebecca in her gentlest, softest -utterance; “he’s always boring.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Melville’s suppressed agitation made her -stays creak.</p> - -<p>“Do you really think that James is not a great -artist?” she breathed.</p> - -<p>“I think he is not worth while.”</p> - -<p>“Wow!” cried Tracy. “Oh, I say—”</p> - -<p>“Aunt Rebecca; you can not mean—” this was -Mrs. Melville, choking with horror.</p> - -<p>“His style,” repeated the unmoved iconoclast, -“his style has the remains of great beauty; all his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span> -separate phrases, if you wish, are gems; and he is -a literary lapidary; but his sentences are so subtle, -so complex, so intricately compounded, and so -discursive that I get a pain in the back of my neck -before I find out what he <i>may</i> mean; and then—I -don’t agree with him! Now is it worth while to -put in so much hard reading only to be irritated?”</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon,” Winter interposed, with masculine -pusillanimity evading taking sides in the -question at issue, “I thought we were going to -have some music; why don’t you boys give us -some college songs? Here is a mandolin.”</p> - -<p>Aunt Rebecca’s still luminous eyes went from -the speaker to Janet Smith in the corner. She -said something about hearing the music better -from the other side of the balcony. Now (as Mrs. -Millicent very truly explained) there was not a -ha’pennyworth’s difference in favor of one side -over the other; but she followed in the wake of -her imperious aunt.</p> - -<p>The colonel drew nearer to Janet Smith; in -order to sink his voice below disturbing the music-lovers -he found it necessary to sit on a pile of -cushions at her feet.</p> - -<p>“Did you know Mercer will be back to-night?” -he began, a long way from his ultimate object.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span> -He noticed that leaning back in the shadow her -ready smile had dropped from her face, which -looked tired. “I want to tell you a little story -about Mercer,” he continued; “may I? It won’t -take long.”</p> - -<p>He was aware, and it gave him a twinge of -pain to see it, that she sat up a little straighter, -like one on guard; and oh, how tired her face was -and how sweet! He told her of all his suspicions -of her brother-in-law; of the blood-stains and the -changing of clothes; she did not interrupt him by -a question, hardly by a motion, until he told of the -conversation with Keatcham and the note signed -“The Black Hand.” At this her eyes lighted; she -exclaimed impetuously: “Cary Mercer never <i>did</i> -send that letter!” She drew a deep intake of -breath. “I don’t believe he touched Mr. Keatcham!”</p> - -<p>“Neither do I,” said the colonel, “but wait!” -He went on to the theater girl’s report of the receiver -of the telegrams. Her hands, which clasped -her knee, fell apart; her lips parted and closed -firmly.</p> - -<p>“Did I think it was you?” said he. “Why, yes, -I confess I did fear it might be and that you might -be trying to shield Atkins.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span>“I!” she exclaimed hotly; “that detestable villain!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Isn’t</i> he?” cried the colonel. “But—well, I -couldn’t tell how he might strike a lady,” he ended -lamely.</p> - -<p>“I reckon he <i>would</i> strike a lady if she were -silly enough to marry him and he got tired of her. -He is the kind of man who will persecute a girl -to marry him, follow her around and importune -her and flatter her and then, if he should prevail, -never forgive her for the bother she has given -him. Oh, I never <i>did</i> like him; I’m afraid of him—awfully.”</p> - -<p>“Not you?”—the colonel’s voice was cheerful, -as if he had not shivered over his own foreboding -vision. “I’ve seen you in action already, you -know.”</p> - -<p>“Not fighting bombs. I hate bombs. There are -so many pieces to hit you. You can’t run away.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’ll find them not so bad; besides, you -<i>did</i> fight one this very morning, and you were -cool as peppermint!”</p> - -<p>“That was quite different; I had time to think, -and the danger was more to me than to any one -else; but to think of Mrs. Winter and Archie and -y—all of you; that scares me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span>“Now, don’t let it get on your nerves,” he -soothed—of course it is necessary to take a girl’s -hand to soothe her when she is frightened. But -Miss Smith calmly released her hand, only reddening -a little; and she laughed. “Where—where -were we at?” she asked in her unconscious Southern -phraseology.</p> - -<p>“Somewhere around Atkins, I think,” said the -colonel; he laughed in his turn,—he found it easy -to laugh, now that he knew how she felt toward -Atkins. “You see, after I talked with Keatcham -I couldn’t make anything but Atkins out of the -whole business. But there were those stained cuffs -and his changing his clothes—”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said she.</p> - -<p>“How explain? There was only one explanation: -that was, that perhaps Mercer had discovered -Keatcham before we did, unconsciously -spotted his cuffs, been alarmed by our approach -and hidden, lest it should be the murderers returning. -He might have wanted a chance to draw -his revolver. Say he did that way, he might foolishly -pretend to enter for the first time. If he -made that mistake and then discovered the condition -of his cuffs and the spots on his knee, what -would be his natural first impulse? Why, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span> -change them, trusting that they hadn’t been noticed. -Maybe, then, he would wash them out—”</p> - -<p>“No,” murmured Miss Smith meekly, with -a little twinkle of her eye; “<i>I</i> did that; he hid -them. How ridiculous of me to get in such a -fright! But you know how Cary hated Mr. -Keatcham; and you—no, you don’t know the -lengths that such a temperament as his will go. -I did another silly thing: I found a dagger, one -of those Moorish stilettoes that hang in the library; -it was lying in the doorway. When no -one was looking I hid it and carried it off. I -stuck it in one of the flower-beds; I stuck it in -the ferns; I have stuck that wretched thing all -over this yard. I didn’t dare carry it back and -put it in the empty place with the others because -some one might have noticed the place. And I -didn’t dare say anything to Cary; I was right -miserable.”</p> - -<p>“So was I,” said the colonel, “thinking you -were trying to protect the murderer. But do you -know what I had sense to do?”</p> - -<p>“Go to Mrs. Winter? Oh, I <i>wanted</i> to!”</p> - -<p>“Exactly; and do you know what that dead -game sport said to me? She said she found those -washed and ironed cuffs and the trousers neatly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span> -cleaned with milka—what’s milka?—and the -milka cleaned the spots so much cleaner than the -rest that she had her own suspicions started. But -says she, ‘Not being a plumb idiot, I went straight -to Cary and he told me the whole story—’”</p> - -<p>“Which was like <i>your</i> story?”</p> - -<p>“Very near. And you see it would be <i>like</i> Atkins -to leave incriminating testimony round loose. -That is, incriminating testimony against Mercer -and Tracy. The dagger, Tracy remembers, was -not in the library; it was in the <i>patio</i>. Right to -hand. Atkins must have got in and found Mr. -Keatcham on the floor in a faint. Whether he -meant to make a bargain with him or to kill him, -perhaps we shall never know; but when he saw -him helpless before him he believed his chance -was come to kill him and get the cipher key, removing -his enemy and making his fortune at a -blow, as the French say. <i>Voilà tout!</i>”</p> - -<p>“Do you think”—her voice sank lower; she -glanced over her shoulder—“do you reckon <i>Atkins</i> -had anything to do with that train robbery? -Was it a mere pretext to give a chance to murder -Mr. Keatcham, fixing the blame on ordinary bandits?”</p> - -<p>“By Jove! it might be.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span>“I don’t suppose we shall ever know. But, -Colonel Winter, do you mind explaining to me -just what Brother Cary’s scheme with Mr. -Keatcham was? Mrs. Winter told me you -would.”</p> - -<p>“She told <i>me</i>,” mused the colonel, “that you -didn’t know anything about this big game which -has netted them millions. They’ve closed out their -deals and have the cash. No paper profits for -Auntie! She said that she would not risk your -being mixed up in it; so kept you absolutely in -the dark. I’m there, too. Didn’t you know Mercer -had kidnapped Archie?”</p> - -<p>“No; I didn’t know he was with Mr. Keatcham -at the hotel. It would have saved me a heap of -suffering; but she didn’t dare let me know for -fear, if anything should happen, I would be mixed -up in it. It was out of kindness, Colonel Winter, -truly it was. Afterward when she saw that I was -worried she gave me hints that I need not worry, -Archie was quite safe.”</p> - -<p>“And the note-paper?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose she gave it to them,” answered Miss -Smith.</p> - -<p>“And the voice I heard in the telephone?” He -explained how firmly she had halted the conversation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span> -the time Archie would have reassured him. -“You weren’t there, of course?” said he.</p> - -<p>“No, I was down-stairs in the ladies’ entrance -of the court in the hotel; I had come in a little -while before, having carried an advertisement to -the paper; I wonder why she—maybe it was to -communicate with them without risking a letter.”</p> - -<p>“But how did <i>your</i> voice get into my ’phone?” -he asked.</p> - -<p>She looked puzzled only a second, then laughed -as he had not heard her laugh in San Francisco—a -natural, musical, merry peal, a girlish laugh that -made his heart bound.</p> - -<p>“Why, of course,” said she, “it is so easy! -There was a reporter who insisted on interviewing -Mrs. Winter about her jewelry; and I was -shooing him away. Somehow the wires must have -crossed.”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember—this is very, very pretty, -don’t you think? Just like a puzzle falling into -place. Do you remember coming here on the day -Archie was returned?”</p> - -<p>“I surely do; my head was swimming, for Mrs. -Winter sent me and I began then to suspect. She -told me Brother Cary was in danger; of course I -wanted to do anything to help him; and I carried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span> -a note to him. I didn’t go in, merely gave the note -and saw him.”</p> - -<p>“<i>I</i> saw you.”</p> - -<p>“You? How?”</p> - -<p>“Birdsall and I; we were here, in the <i>patio</i>; -we, my dear Miss Janet, were the Danger! You -had on a brown checked silk dress and you were -holding a wire clipper in your hand.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. I saw it on the grass and picked it -up.”</p> - -<p>She laughed a little; but directly her cheeks reddened. -“What must you have thought of me!” -she murmured under her breath; and bit the lip -that would have quivered.</p> - -<p>“I should like to tell you—<i>dear</i>,” he answered, -“if you will—O Lord, forgive young men for living! -If they are not all coming back to ask me to -sing! But, Janet, dear, let me say it in Spanish—yes, -<i>yes</i> if you really won’t be bored; throw me -that mandolin.”</p> - -<p>Aunt Rebecca leaned back in the arm-chair, -faintly smiling, while the old, old words that -thousands of lovers have thrilled with pain and -hopes and dreams beyond their own power of -speech and offered to their sweethearts, rose, -winged by the eternal longing:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“<i>Y si te mueve á lastima mi eterno padecer,</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>Como te amo, amame, bellissima mujer!</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>Como te amo, amame, bellissima mujer!</i>”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>“And what does it mean in English, Bertie?” -said Mrs. Melville. “Can’t you translate it?”</p> - -<p>“Shall I?” said the colonel, his voice was careless -enough, but not so the eyes which looked up -at Janet Smith.</p> - -<p>“Not to-night, please,” said she. “I—I think -Mr. Keatcham is expecting me to read to him a -little. Good night. Thank you, Colonel Winter.”</p> - -<p>She was on her feet as she spoke; and Winter -did not try to detain her; he had held her hand; -and he had felt its shy pressure and caught a -fleeting, frightened, very beautiful glance. His -dark face paled with the intensity of his emotion.</p> - -<p>Janet moved away, quietly and lightly, with -no break in her composure; but as she passed Mrs. -Winter she bent and kissed her. And when Archie -would have run after her a delicate jeweled -hand was laid on his arm. “Not to-night, laddie; -I want you to help me down the steps.”</p> - -<p>With her hand on the boy’s shoulder she came -up to Rupert, and inclined her handsome head in -Janet’s direction. “I think, by rights, that kiss -belonged to you, <i>mon enfant</i>,” said she.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII<br /> - -<small>CASA FUERTE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>Winter would have said that he was too old a -man to stay awake all night, when he had a normal -temperature; yet he saw the stars come out -and the stars fade on that fateful April night. He -entered his room at the hour when midnight -brushes the pale skirts of dawn and misguided -cocks are vociferating their existence to an indifferent -world. Before he came there had been a -long council with Mercer and his aunt. Mercer, -who had been successful in his mission, had barely -seen his chief for a moment before a gentle but -imperious nurse ordered him away. Winter -caught a queer, abrupt laugh from the financier. -The latter beckoned to him. “See you are as obedient -as I am when your time comes,” he -chuckled; and he chuckled again when both the -soldier and Miss Smith blushed over his awkward -jocoseness. Yet, the next moment he extended -his hand with his formal, other-generation courtesy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span> -and took Miss Janet’s shapely, firm fingers -in his own lean and nervous grasp. “Allow me to -offer you both my sincere congratulations,” began -he, and halted, his eyes, which seemed so -incurious but were so keen, traveling from the -woman’s confusion to the man’s. “I beg your -pardon; I understood—Archie who was here, -gave me to understand—and I heard you singing; -you will hardly believe it, but years ago <i>I</i> -sang that to my wife.”</p> - -<p>“So far as I am concerned, it <i>is</i> settled,” said -the colonel steadily.</p> - -<p>“We are all,” Keatcham continued, no longer -with any trace of embarrassment, as he touched -the hand which he still held with his own other -hand, “we are all, as you know, my dear young -lady, in considerable personal peril; I regret that -it should be on my account; but it really is not my -fault; it is because I will not relax my pursuit of -a great scoundrel who is dangerous to all decent -people. But being in such danger, I think you will -be glad afterward if you are generously frank, -and give up something of the sex’s prerogative -to keep a lover on the anxious seat. Excuse me if—if -I presume on my age and my privileges as a -patient.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[345]</span>Janet lifted her sweet eyes and sent one glance -as fleeting and light as the flash of a bird’s wing. -“I—I—reckon it is settled,” murmured she; but -immediately she was the nurse again. “Mr. -Keatcham, you are staying awake much too late. -Here is Colvin, who will see to anything you -want. Good night.”</p> - -<p>It was then that Mr. Keatcham had taken the -colonel’s breath away by kissing Janet’s hand; -after which he shook hands with the colonel with -a strange new cordiality, and watched them both -go away together with a look on his gaunt face -unlike any known to Colvin.</p> - -<p>Only three minutes in the hall, with the moon -through the arched window; and his arm about -her and the fragrance of her loosened hair against -his cheek and her voice stirring his heartstrings -with an exquisite pang. Only time for the immemorial -questions of love: “Are you sure, dear, -it is really <i>I?</i>” and “When did you first—” To -this last she had answered with her half-humorous, -adorable little lilt of a laugh. “Oh, I reckon -it was—a—little—all along, ever since I read -about your saving that poor little Filipino boy, -like Archie; the one who was your servant in -Manila, and going hungry for him on the march<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span> -and jumping into the rapids to save him—when -you were lame, too—”</p> - -<p>Here the colonel burst in with a groan: “Oh, -that monstrous newspaper liar! The ‘dear little -Filipino boy’ was a married man; and I didn’t -go hungry for him, and I didn’t jump into the -river to save him. It wasn’t more than wading -depth—I only swore at him for an idiot and told -him to <i>walk</i> out when he tipped over his boat and -was floundering about. And he <i>did</i>! He was the -limit as a liar—”</p> - -<p>To his relief, the most sensible as well as the -most lovable woman in the world had burst into -a delicious fit of laughter; and returned: “Oh, -well, you <i>would</i> have jumped in and saved him -if the water had been deep; it wasn’t <i>your</i> fault -it was shallow!” And just at this point Mercer -and Aunt Rebecca must needs come with a most -unusual premonitory racket, and Janet had fled.</p> - -<p>Afterward had come the council. All the coil -had been unraveled. Birdsall appeared in person, -as sleek, smiling and complacent over his blunders -as ever. One of his first sentences was a declaration -of trust in Miss Smith.</p> - -<p>“I certainly went off at half-cock there,” said -he amiably; “and just because she was so awful<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span> -nice I felt obliged to suspect her; but I’ve got the -real dog that killed the sheep this time; it’s sure -the real Red Wull!” It appeared that he had, of -a verity, been usefully busy. He had secured the -mechanic who had given Atkins a plan of the -secret passages of Casa Fuerte. He had found -the policeman who had arrested Tracy (he swore -because he was going too fast) and the magistrate -who had fined him; and not only that, he had captured -the policeman, a genuine officer, not a criminal -in disguise, who had been Atkins’ instrument -in kidnapping Archie. This man, whom Birdsall -knew how to terrify completely, had confessed -that it was purely by chance that Atkins had seen -the boy, left outside in the motor-car. Atkins, so -he said, had pretended that the boy was a tool of -some enemies of Keatcham’s, whose secretary he -was, trading, not for the only time, on his past -position. In reality, Birdsall had come to believe -Atkins knew that Keatcham was employing Mercer -in his place.</p> - -<p>“Why, he knew the old gentleman was just off -quietly with Mr. Mercer and some friends; knew -they were all friendly, just as well as you or me,” -declared Birdsall. He had seen Archie on the -train, for, as the colonel remembered, he had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[348]</span> -in the Winters’ car on the night of the robbery. -Somehow, also, Atkins had found out about -Archie’s disappearance from the hotel.</p> - -<p>“I can’t absolutely put my finger on his information,” -said Birdsall; “but I <i>suspect</i> Mrs. -Melville Winter; I know she was talking to him, -for one of my men saw her. The lady meant no -harm, but she’s one of the kind that is always -slamming the detectives and being took in by the -rascals.”</p> - -<p>He argued that Mrs. Winter and Miss Smith -knew where the boy was; for some reason they -had let him go and were pretending not to know -where he was. “Ain’t that so?” the detective appealed -to Aunt Rebecca, who merely smiled, saying: -“You’re a wonder, Mr. Birdsall!” According -to Birdsall’s theory, Atkins was puzzled by Archie’s -part in the affair. But he believed could he -find the boy’s present hosts he would find Edwin -Keatcham. It would not be the first time Keatcham -had hidden himself, the better to spin his web -for the trapping of his rivals. That Mercer was -with his employer the ex-secretary had no manner -of doubt, any more than he doubted that Mercer’s -scheme had been to oust him and to build his own -fortunes on Atkins’ ruin. He knew both Tracy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[349]</span> -and young Arnold very well by sight. When he -couldn’t frighten Archie into telling anything, -probably he went back to his first plan of shadowing -the Winter party at the Palace. He must have -seen Tracy here. He penetrated his disguise. -(“He’s as sharp as the devil, I tell you, Colonel.”) -He either followed him himself or had him followed; -and he heard about the telephone. (“Somebody -harking in the next room, most likely.”) -Knowing Tracy’s intimacy with Arnold it was not -hard for so clever and subtle a mind as Atkins’ to -jump to the conclusion and test it in the nearest -telephone book. (“At least that is how <i>I</i> figure it -out, Colonel.”) Birdsall had traced the clever mechanic -who was interrogated by the Eastern gentleman -about to build; this man had given the lavish -and inquisitive Easterner a plan of the secret -passages—to use in his own future residence. -Whether Atkins went alone or in company to the -Casa Fuerte the detective could only surmise. He -couldn’t tell whether his object would be mere -blackmail, or robbery of the cipher, or assassination. -Perhaps he found the insensible man in the -<i>patio</i> and was tempted by the grisly opportunity; -victim and weapon both absolutely to his hand; -for it was established that the dagger had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[350]</span> -shown Tracy by Mercer as a curio, and left on -the stone bench.</p> - -<p>Perhaps he had not found the dagger, but had -his own means to make an end of his enemy and -his own terror. Birdsall believed that he had accomplices, -or at least one accomplice, with him. -He conceived that they had lain in ambush watching -until they saw Kito go away. Then an entry -had been made. “Most like,” Birdsall concluded, -“he jest flung that dagger away for you folks to -find and suspect the domestics, say Kito, ’cause -he was away.” But this was not all that Birdsall -had to report. He had traced Atkins to the haunts -of certain unsavory Italians; he had struck the -trail, in fine. To be sure, it ran underground and -was lost in the brick-walled and slimy-timbered -cellars of Chinatown which harbored every sin -and crime known to civilization or to savagery. -What matter? By grace of his aunt’s powerful -friend they could track the wolves even through -those noisome burrows.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” sighed the colonel, stretching out his -arms, with a resonant breath of relief, “we’re out -of the maze; all we have to do now is to keep -from being killed. Which isn’t such a plain proposition -in ’Frisco as in Massachusetts! But I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[351]</span> -reckon we can tackle it! And then—then, my -darling, I shall dare be happy!”</p> - -<p>He found himself leaning on his window-sill -and staring like a boy on the landscape, lost in the -lovely hallucinations of moonlight. It was no -scene that he knew, it was a vision of old Spain; -and by and by from yonder turret the princess, -with violets in her loosened hair and her soft -cheek like satin and snow, would lean and look.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse"><i>Y si te mueve á lastima mi eterno padecer.</i></div> -<div class="indent"><i>Como te amo, amame, bellissima mujer!</i></div> -</div></div> - -<p>“Ah, no, little girl,” he muttered with a shake -of the head, “I like it better to have you a plain, -American gentlewoman, as Aunt Becky would -say, who could send me to battle with a nice little -quivery smile—<i>sweetheart</i>! Oh, I’m not good -enough for you, my dear, my dear.” He felt an -immense humility as he contrasted his own lot -with the loneliness of Keatcham and Mercer and -the multitude of solitaries in the world, who had -lost, or sadder still, had never possessed, the divine -dream that is the only reality of the soul. As -such thoughts moved his heart, suddenly in the -full tide of hope and thankfulness, it stood still, -chilled, as if by the glimpse of an iceberg in summer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[352]</span> -seas. Yet how absurd; it was only that he -had recalled his stoical aunt’s most unexpected -touch of superstition. Quite in jest he had asked -her if she felt any presentiments or queer things -in her bones to-night. He expected to be answered -that Janet had driven every other anxiety out of -her mind; and how was she to break it to Millicent?—or -with some such caustic repartee. Instead, -she had replied testily: “Yes, I <i>do</i>, Bertie. -I feel—horrid! I feel as if something out of the -common awful were going to happen. It isn’t exactly -Atkins, either. Do you reckon it could be -the <i>I Suey When</i>, that bamboo-shoots mess we -had for dinner?”</p> - -<p>Although they spent a good twenty minutes -after that, joking over superstitions, and he had -repeated to her some of Tracy’s and Arnold’s most -ingenious “spooky stunts,” to make the neighborhood -keep its distance from Casa Fuerte, and they -had laughed freely, she as heartily as he, nevertheless -he divined that her smile was a pretense. -Suddenly, an unruly tremor shook his own firm -spirits. Looking out on the stepped and lanterned -arches of the wing, he was conscious of the same -tragic endowment of the darkened pile, which had -oppressed him that night, weeks before, when he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[353]</span> -had stood outside on the crest of the hill; and -the would-be murderers might have been skulking -in the shadows of the pepper-trees. He tried -vainly to shake off this distempered mood. Although -he might succeed for a moment in a lover’s -absorption, it would come again, insidiously, seeping -through his happiness like a fume. After futile -attempts to sleep he rose, and still at the bidding -of his uncanny and tormenting impulse he took his -bath and dressed himself for the day. By this -time the ashen tints of dawn were in his chamber -and on the fields outside. He stood looking at -the unloveliest aspect of nature, a landscape on the -sunless side, before the east is red. The air felt -lifeless; there were no depths in the pale sky; the -azure was a flat tint, opaque and thin, like a poor -water-color. While he gazed the motionless trees, -live-oaks and olives and palms, were shaken as by -a mighty wind; the pepper plumes tossed and -streamed and tangled like a banner; the great elms -along the avenue bent over in a breaking strain. -Yet the silken cord of the Holland window-shade -did not so much as swing. There was not a wing’s -breath of air. But gradually the earth and cloud -vibrated with a strange grinding noise which has -been described a hundred times, but never adequately;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[354]</span> -a sickening crepitation, as of the rocks in -the hills scraping and splintering. Before the -mind could question the sound, there succeeded -an anarchy of uproar. In it was jumbled the crash -of trees and buildings, the splintering crackle of -glass, the boom of huge chimneys falling and of -vast explosions, the hiss of steam, the hurling of -timbers and bricks and masses of stone or sand, -and the awful rush of frantic water escaping from -engine or main.</p> - -<p>“’Quake, sure’s you’re born!” said the colonel -softly.</p> - -<p>Now that his invisible peril was real, was upon -him, his spirits leaped up to meet it. He looked -coolly about him, noting in his single glance that -the house was standing absolutely stanch, neither -reeling nor shivering; and that the chimney just -opposite his eye had not misplaced a brick. In -the same instant he caught up his revolver and -ran at his best pace from the room. The hall was -firm under his hurrying feet. As he passed the -great arched opening on the western balcony he -saw an awful sight. Diagonally across from Casa -Fuerte was the great house of the California magnate -who did not worry his contractor with demands -for Colonial honesty of workmanship as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[355]</span> -well as Colonial architecture. The stately mansion -with its beautiful piazzas and delicate harmony -of pillar and pediment, shone white and -placid on the eye for a second; then rocked in -ghastly wise and collapsed like a house of cards. -Simultaneously a torchlike flame streamed into -the air. A woeful din of human anguish pierced -the inanimate tumult of wreck and crash.</p> - -<p>“Bully for Casa Fuerte!” cried the soldier, who -now was making a frenzied speed to the other -side of the house. He cast a single glance toward -the door which he knew belonged to Janet’s room; -and he thought of the boy, but he ran first to his -old aunt. He didn’t need to go the whole way. She -came out of her door, Janet and Archie at her -side. They were all perfectly calm, although in -very light and semi-oriental attire. Archie plainly -had just plunged out of bed. His eyes were dancing -with excitement.</p> - -<p>“This house is a dandy, ain’t it, Uncle Bertie?” -he exclaimed. “Mr. Arnold told me all about the -way his father built it; he said it wouldn’t bat its -eye for an earthquake. It didn’t either; but that -house opposite is just kindling-wood! Say! here’s -Cousin Cary; and—look, Uncle Bertie, Mr. -Keatcham has got up and he’s all dressed. Hullo,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">[356]</span> -Colvin! Don’t be scared. It’s only a ’quake!” -Colvin grinned a sickly grin and stammered, -“Yes, sir, quite so, sir.” Not an earthquake could -shake Colvin out of his manners.</p> - -<p>“Are you able to do this, Mr. Keatcham?” -young Arnold called breathlessly, plunging into -the <i>patio</i> to which they had all instinctively gravitated. -Keatcham laughed a short, grunting laugh. -“Don’t you understand, this is no little every-day -’quake? Look out! Is there a way you can look -and not see a spout of flame? I’ve got to go -down-town. Are the machines all right?”</p> - -<p>“We must find Randall; the poor soul has a -mortal terror of ’quakes—” Aunt Rebecca’s well-bred -accents were unruffled; she appeared a -thought stimulated, nothing more; danger always -acted as tonic on Winter nerves—“Archie, you -go put your clothes on this minute, honey. And -I suppose we ought to look up Millicent.”</p> - -<p>The colonel, however, had barely set foot on -the threshold when Mrs. Melville appeared, propelling -Randall, whom she had rescued from the -maid’s closet where she was cowering behind -her neat frocks, momently expecting death, -but decently ready for it in gown and shoes. Mrs. -Melville herself, in the disorder of the shock, had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[357]</span> -merely added her best Paris hat and a skeleton -bustle to her dainty nightgear. She had not forgotten -her kimono; she had only forgotten to don -it; and it draggled over her free arm. But her -dignity was intact. The instant she beheld her -kindred she demanded of them, as if they were -responsible, whether <i>this</i> was a sample of the -Californian climate. Keatcham blushed and fled -with Colvin and the giggling Arnold and Archie, -who were too polite to giggle.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Winter put on her eye-glasses. “Millicent,” -said she in the gentlest of tones, “your -bustle is on crooked.”</p> - -<p>One wild glance at the merciless mirror in the -carved pier-glass did Mrs. Melville give, and, -then, without a word, she fled.</p> - -<p>“Randall,” said Mrs. Winter, “you look very -nice; come and help me dress. There will most -likely be some more shocks.”</p> - -<p>Randall, trembling in every limb, but instinctively -assuming a composed mien, followed the -undaunted old lady.</p> - -<p>The colonel was going in another direction, -having heard a telephone bell. He was most anxious -to put himself into communication with Birdsall, -because not even during the earthquake had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[358]</span> -he forgotten an uglier peril; and it had occurred -to him that Atkins was of a temper not to be -frightened by the convulsions of order; but rather -to make his account of it. Nor did the message -through the telephone tend to reassure him.</p> - -<p>The man at the other end of the telephone was -Birdsall. No telling how long the telephone service -would keep up, he reported; wires were down -around the corner; worse, the water mains were -spouting; and from where he stood since he felt -the first shock he had counted thirty-six fires. -Ten of them were down in the quarter where some -of his men had homes; and a field-glass had shown -that the houses were all tossed about there; he -couldn’t keep his men steady; it seemed inhuman -to ask them to stay when their wives and children -might be dying; of course it was his damn -luck to have all married men from down there.</p> - -<p>“Well, I reckon you will have to let them go; -but watch out,” begged the colonel, “for you -know the men we are after will take advantage -of general disorder to get in their dirty work. -Now is the most dangerous time.”</p> - -<p>Birdsall knew it; he had had intimations that -some men were trying to sneak up the hill; they -had been turned back. They pretended to be some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[359]</span> -wandering railway workers; but Birdsall distrusted -them. He—No use to ring! Vain to tap -the carriage of the receiver! The telephone was -dead, jarred out of existence somewhere beyond -their ken.</p> - -<p>By this time the cold sunlight of the woefulest -day that San Francisco had ever seen was spread -over the earth. The city was spotted with blood-red -spouts of flames. The ruin of the earthquake -had hardly been visible from their distance, although -it was ugly enough and of real importance; -but, even in the brief space which they in -Casa Fuerte had waited before they should set -forth, fires had enkindled in all directions, most -dreadful to see; nor did there seem to be any -check upon them.</p> - -<p>Tracy had waked the domestic staff, and, dazed -but stoical, they were getting breakfast. But -Keatcham could not wait; he was in a cold fury -of haste to get to the town.</p> - -<p>He had consented to wait for his breakfast under -Miss Smith’s representation that it would be -ready at once and her assurance that he couldn’t -work through the day without it.</p> - -<p>“Happily, Archie,” explained Tracy, whose unquenchable -college levity no earthquake could affect,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[360]</span> -“happily my domestic jewel has been stocked -up with rice and oatmeal, two of the most nutritious -of foods; and Miss Janet is making coffee -on her traveling coffee pot for the Boss. That’s -alcohol, and independent of gas-mains. Lucky; -for the gas-range is out of action, and we have to -try charcoal. Notice one interesting thing, Archie? -Old Keatcham, whom we were fighting -tooth and nail three weeks ago, is now bossing -us as ruthlessly as a foot-ball coach; and Cousin -Cary is taking his slack talk as meek as a freshman. -Great old boy, Keatcham! And—oh, I say! -has any one gone to the rescue of the Rogerses? -I saw Kito speeding over that way from the garage -and Haley hiking after him. I hope the nine -small yellow domestics are not burned at the stake -with Rogers; the bally fire-trap is blazing like a -tar-barrel!”</p> - -<p>As it happened, the colonel had despatched a -small party to their neighbor’s aid. Haley and -Kito were not among them; they were to guard -the garage which was too vital a point in their -household economy to leave unprotected. Nevertheless, -Haley and Kito did both run away, leaving -a Mexican helper to watch; and when they -returned they were breathless and Haley’s face<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[361]</span> -was covered with blood. He was carefully carrying -something covered with a carriage-robe in his -hand.</p> - -<p>“I’ve the honor to report, sir,” Haley mumbled, -stiff and straight in his military posture, a very -grimy and blood-stained hand at salute, “I’ve the -honor to report, sor, that Private Kito and me -discovered two sushpicious characters making up -the hillside by the sekrut road. We purshooed -thim, sor, and whin they wu’dn’t halt we fired on -thim, sor, ixploding this here bum which wint -off whin the hindmost man tumbled.”</p> - -<p>Kito smilingly flung aside the carriage-robe, -disclosing the still smoking shell of an ingenious -round bomb, very similar to those used in fireworks.</p> - -<p>The colonel examined it closely; it was an -ugly bit of dynamite craft.</p> - -<p>“Any casualties, Sergeant?” the colonel asked -grimly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sor. The man wid the bum was kilt be -the ixplosion; the other man was hit by Private -Kito and wounded in the shoulder but escaped. I -mesilf have a confusion on me right arrum, me -ankle is sprained; and ivery tooth in me head is -in me pockit! That’s all.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[362]</span>“Report to Miss Smith at the hospital, Sergeant. -Any further report?”</p> - -<p>“I wu’d like to riccommind Private Kito for -honorable minshun for gallanthry.”</p> - -<p>“I shall certainly remember him; and you also, -Sergeant, in any report that I may make. Look -after the garage, Kito.”</p> - -<p>Kito bowed and retired, beaming, while Haley -hobbled into the house. The consequences of the -attack made on the garage did not appear at once. -One was that young Arnold had already brought -the touring-car into the <i>patio</i> in the absence of -Haley and Kito. Another was that he and Tracy -and Kito all repaired to the scene of the explosion -to examine the dead man’s body. They returned -almost immediately, but for a few moments there -was no one of the house in the court. The colonel -went to Keatcham in a final effort to dissuade him -from going into the city until after he himself had -gone to the Presidio and returned with a guard. -He represented as forcibly as he could the danger -of Keatcham’s appearance during a time of such -tumult and lawlessness.</p> - -<p>“We are down to the primeval passions now,” -he pleaded. “Do you suppose if it had been Haley -instead of that dago out there who was killed that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[363]</span> -we could have punished the murderer? Not unless -we did it with our own hands. They are -maybe lying in wait at the first street-corner now. -If you will only wait—”</p> - -<p>Keatcham chopped off his sentence without -ceremony, not irritably, but with the brusquerie -of one whose time is too precious for dilatory -amenities.</p> - -<p>“Will the <i>fire</i> wait?” he demanded. “Will the -thieves and toughs and ruffians whom we have to -crush before they realize their strength, will <i>they</i> -wait? This is <i>my</i> town, Winter, the only town I -care a rap for; and I propose to help save it. I -can. Danger? Of course there is danger; there -is danger in every battle; but do you keep out of -battles where you belong because you may get -killed? This is my affair; if I get killed it is in -the way of business, and I can’t help it! No, Arnold, -I won’t have your father’s son mixed up in -my fights; you can’t go.”</p> - -<p>“Somebody has to run the machine, sir,” insinuated -young Arnold with a coaxing smile; -“and I fancy I shouldn’t be my father’s son if I -didn’t look after my guest—not very long; he’d -cut me out. Tracy is going, too, he’s armed—”</p> - -<p>“You are not both going,” said the colonel;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[364]</span> -“somebody with a head on him must stay here to -guard the ladies.”</p> - -<p>He would have detailed both Tracy and Mercer; -but Mercer could really help Keatcham better -than any one in any business arrangements which -might need to be made. And Keatcham plainly -wished his company. Had not the situation been -so grimly serious Winter could have laughed at -the grotesque reversal of their conditions; Tracy -and Arnold did laugh; they were all taking their -orders from the man who had been their defeated -prisoner a little while back. Mercer alone kept -his melancholy poise; he had obtained the aim of -years; he was not sure but his revenge was subtler -and completer than he had dared to hope. Being -a zealot he was possessed by his dreams. Suppose -he had converted this relentless and tremendous -power to his own way of faith; what mightn’t he -hope to accomplish? Meanwhile, so far as the -business in hand was concerned, he believed in -Keatcham and in Keatcham’s methods of help; he -bowed to the innate power of the man; and he -was as simply obedient and loyal as Kito would -have been to his feudal lord.</p> - -<p>In a very brief time all the arrangements were -made; the four men went into the <i>patio</i> to enter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[365]</span> -the touring-car. They walked up to the empty -machine. The colonel stepped into the front seat -of the machine. Something in the noise of the -engine which was panting and straining against -its control, some tiny sibilant undertone which any -other ear would have missed, warned his; he bent -quickly. A dark object gyrated above the heads -of the other two just mounting the long step; it -landed with a prodigious splash in the fountain, -flying into a multitude of sputtering atoms and -hurling a great column of water high up in air. -Unheeding its shrieking clamor, the soldier -sprang over the side of the car, darted through -the great arched doorway out upon the terrace -toward a clump of rubber-trees. He fired; again -he fired.</p> - -<p>In every catastrophe the spectators’ minds lose -some parts of the action. There are blanks to be -supplied by no one. Every one of the men and -women present on that fatal morning had a different -story. Colvin was packing; he could only -remember the deafening roar and the shouting; -and when he got down-stairs and saw—he turned -deadly sick; his chief impression is the backs of -people and the way their hands would shake. -Janet Smith, inside, dressing Haley’s wounds,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[366]</span> -was first warned by the tumult and cries; she as -well as Archie and Haley who were with her -could see nothing until they got outside. All -Mrs. Melville saw was the glistening back of the -car and Mercer stepping into the car and instantly -lurching backward. The explosion seemed to her -simultaneous with Mercer’s entering the car. But -Mrs. Rebecca Winter, who perhaps had the coolest -head of all, and who was standing on the dais -of the arcade exactly opposite the car, distinctly -saw Keatcham with an amazing exertion of vigor -for a man just risen from a sick-bed, and with a -kind of whirling motion, literally hurl Mercer out -of the car. She is sure of this because of one -homely little detail, sickening in its very homeliness. -As he clutched Mercer Keatcham’s soft -gray hat dropped off and the light burnished the -bald dome of his head. In the space of that glance -she heard a crackle and a roar and Kito screamed -in Japanese, running in from the carriage side. -She can not tell whether Tracy or Arnold reached -the mangled creature on the pavement first. Arnold -only remembers how the carriage-robe -flapped in Tracy’s shaking hands before he flung -it over the man. Tracy’s fair skin was a streaky, -bluish white, and his under jaw kept moving up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[367]</span> -and down like that of a fish out of water, while -he gasped, never uttering a sound.</p> - -<p>Young Arnold was trembling so that his hands -shook when he would have raised the wounded -man. Mercer alone was composed although -deathly pale. He had the presence of mind to -throw the harmless fragments of the bomb into -the fountain and to examine the interior of the -car lest there should be more of destruction hidden -therein. Then he approached the heap on the -flags; but Keatcham was able to motion him -away, saying in his old voice, not softened in the -least: “Don’t you do that! I’m all in. No use. -They got me. But it won’t do them any good; -you boys know that will you witnessed; it gives a -fifty thousand for the arrest and conviction or the -killing of Atkins; his own cutthroats will betray -him for that. But—where’s Winter? You damn -careless fools didn’t let <i>him</i> get hurt?”</p> - -<p>“Shure, sor, he didn’t let himsilf git hurted,” -Haley blurted out; he had run in after Miss -Smith, brandy bottle in hand; “’tis the murdering -dagoes is gettin’ hurted off there behind the big -rubber-trees; I kin see the dead legs of thim, this -minnit. ’Tis a grand cool shot the colonel is, sor.”</p> - -<p>“Bring him in, let them go; they were only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">[368]</span> -tools,” panted Keatcham weakly; but the brandy -revived him; and his lips curled in a faint smile -as Janet Smith struck a match to heat the teaspoonful -of water for her hypodermic. “Make it -good and strong, give me time to say something -to Mercer and Winter—there he comes; good -runners those boys are!”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_368fp.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">He kept death at bay by the sheer force of his will. Page <a href="#Page_368">368</a></p> - -<p>Tracy and Arnold, acting on a common unspoken -impulse, had dashed after Winter and -were pushing him forward between them. Keatcham -was nearly spent, but he rallied to say the -words in his mind. He kept death at bay by the -sheer force of his will. When Winter knelt down -beside him, with a poignant memory of another -time in the same place when he had knelt beside -a seemingly dying man, and gently touched the -unmarred right hand lying on the carriage-robe, -he could still form a smile with his stiff lips and -mutter: “Only thing about me isn’t in tatters; -of course you touched it and didn’t try to lift me -where I’m all in pieces. You always understood. -Listen! You, too, Mercer. Winter knows the -things I’m bound to have go through. I’ve explained -them to him. You’ll be my executors and -trustees? A hundred thousand a year; not too -big a salary for the work—you can do it. It’s a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">[369]</span> -bigger job than the army one, Winter. Warnebold -will look after the other end. He’s narrow -but he is straight. I’ve made it worth his while. -Some loose ends—it can’t be helped now. Maybe -you’ll find out there are more difficulties in administering -a big fortune than you fancied; and -that it isn’t the easiest thing in the world helping -fools who can’t ... help themselves. There -are all those Tidewater idiots ... made me -read about ... you’ll have to attend to them, -Mercer ... old woman in the queer clothes -... chorus girl ... those old ladies who -had one egg between them for breakfast ... -you’ll see to them all?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Mercer, looking down on the -shrunken features with a look of pain and bewilderment. -“Yes, suh, I’ll do my best.”</p> - -<p>“And—we’re even?”</p> - -<p>“I reckon I am obliged to call it so, suh,” returned -Mercer with a long, gasping sigh, “but—my -Lord! you’d better have let <i>me</i> go!”</p> - -<p>“Very likely,” said Keatcham dryly, “the city -needs me. Well, Winter, you must look after -that. I’ve been thinking why a man throws his -life away as I did; he <i>has</i> to, unless he’s a poltroon. -He can’t count whether he’s more useful<span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">[370]</span> -than the one he saves ... he has simply <i>got</i> -to save him ... you were a good deal right, -Winter, about not doing the evil thing to get the -good. No, it’s a bad time for me to be taken; but -it’s an honorable discharge.... Helen will -be glad ... you know I’m not a pig, Winter -... do what I tried to do ... where’s my -kind nurse?” Janet was trying by almost imperceptible -movements to edge a pillow under his -shoulders; he was past turning his head, but his -eyes moved toward her. “I’ve left you ... a -wedding gift ... if I lived ... given to -you; but made it safe, anyhow. Mercer?”</p> - -<p>His voice had grown so feeble and came in such -gasps from his torn and laboring chest that Mercer -bent close to his lips to hear the struggling -sentences. “Mercer,” he whispered, “I want ... -just ... to tell you ... <i>you didn’t convert -me</i>!”</p> - -<p>Thus, having made amends to his own will, -having also, let us humbly hope, made amends -to that greater and wiser Will which is of more -merciful and wider vision that our weakness can -comprehend, Edwin Keatcham very willingly -closed his eyes on earth.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">[371]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX<br /> - -<small>EXTRACT FROM A LETTER</small></h2> -</div> - -<p>From Mrs. Rebecca Winter to Mrs. John S. G. -Winslow,</p> - -<p class="right">Fairport, Iowa.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And it was delightful to discover that you were -so distressed about me. I must be getting a trifle -maudlin in my old age, for I have had a lump in -my throat every time I have thought of Johnny -and you actually starting out to find me; I am -thankful my telegram (Please, Peggy, do not -call it a <i>wire</i> again—to me! I loathe these verbal -indolences) reached you at Omaha in time to stop -you.</p> - -<p>Really, we have not had hardships. Thanks to -Israel Putnam Arnold! I have a very admiring -gratitude for that man! In these days of degeneracy -he builded a stanch enduring house. With -union labor, too! I don’t see how he contrived to -do it. Generally, when they build houses here,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">[372]</span> -they scamp the underpinning and weaken the -joists and paint over the dirt instead of washing -it off; and otherwise deserve to be killed. The unfortunate -man opposite had just that kind of -house, which tumbled down and burned up, at -once; but, alas! it killed some of the people in it, -not the guilty masons and carpenters.</p> - -<p>Our chimneys have been inspected and we are -now legally as well as actually sound; but we did -not suffer. We cooked out on the sidewalk, and -supplemented our cooking with young Tracy’s -stove.</p> - -<p>I told you of Janet’s engagement. Confidentially, -my dear Peggy, I am a bit responsible. -They met by chance on the train; and I assure -you, although chance might have parted us, I did -not let it. I clung to Nephew Bertie. I’m sure he -wondered why. I knew better than to let him -suspect. But a success you can’t share is like a -rose without a smell. So I confess to you, <i>I</i> have -made this match. But when you see Millicent she -will tell you that <i>she</i> helped things along. She -has abused Janet like a pickpocket; but now, since -she has discovered Janet didn’t draw the Daughters’ -caricature of her, she regards her as one of -the gems of the century.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">[373]</span>We are recovering from the terrible events of -which we wrote. It is certainly a relief that Atkins -is killed. He was one of the two scoundrels -who sneaked into the <i>patio</i> and put the bombs -into the automobile. Bertie shot him. You have -no doubt heard all about Mr. Keatcham’s death. -He was killed by the man whose wickedness he -had unconsciously fostered. He did not know it, -but I make no doubt his swollen fortune and the -unscrupulous daring of its acquiring had a great -influence in corrupting his secretary.</p> - -<p>And his corruption was his master’s undoing. -I must say I sympathize with young Tracy, who -said last night: “I feel as if I had been put to soak -in crime! That bomb was the limit. In future, -me for common or garden virtue; it may be tame -but I prefer tameness to delirium tremens!”</p> - -<p>I used to think that I should like to match my -wits against a first-class criminal intellect; God -forgive me for the wish! I have been matching -wits for the last month; and never putting on my -shoes without looking in them for a baby bomblet -or feeling a twinge of indigestion without darkly -suspecting the cook—who is really the best creature -in the world, sent Mr. Arnold by a good -Chinese friend of mine. (I had a chance to do a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">[374]</span> -good turn to my friend, by the way, during the -earthquake and thus repay some of his to me.)</p> - -<p>Archie is well and cheerful. Isn’t it like the -Winter temperament to lose its melancholy in -such horrors as we have seen? Archie is distinctly -happier since he came to California. As -for Janet and Rupert—oh, well, my dear, you -and Johnny <i>know</i>! The house has been full of -people, and we have had several friends of our -own for a day or two. I got a recipe for a delicious -tea-cake from Mrs. Wigglesworth of Boston. -She didn’t save anything but her furs and -her kimono and a bridge set, besides what she -had on; she packed her trunk with great care and -nobody would take it down-stairs. Of course she -saved her bag of jewels, which reminds me that -poor Mr. Keatcham left Janet some pearls—that -is, the money for them. He was very much attached -to her.</p> - -<p>We buried him on the crest of the hill; later, -when more settled times shall come, he may take -another and last journey to that huge mausoleum -where his wife and mother are buried. Poor -things! it is to be hoped they had no taste living -or else that they can’t see now how hideous and -flamboyant is their last costly resting place. But<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">[375]</span> -if Keatcham hadn’t a taste for the fine arts he had -compensating qualities. I shall never forget the -night of his burial. It was a “wonderful great -night of stars,” as Stevenson says. A poor little -tired-out clergyman, in a bedraggled surplice, -who had been reading prayers over people for the -last ten hours and was fit to drop, hurried through -the service; and the town the dead man loved was -flaming miles beyond miles. About the grave was -none of his blood, none of his ancient friends, but -the men I believe he would have chosen—men -who had fought him and then had fought for him -faithfully. They were haggard and spent with -fighting the fire; and they went from his burial -back to days and nights of desperate effort. He -had fought and lost and yet did not lose at the -last, but won, snatching victory out of defeat as -he was wont to do all his life. The heavy burdens -which have dropped from his shoulders these -others whom he chose will carry, maybe more -humbly, perhaps not so capably, but quite as courageously. -And it is singular how his influence persists, -how it touches Kito and Haley, as well as -the others.</p> - -<p>“Shure,” said honest Haley (whose wit you are -likely to sample in the near future, for he has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">[376]</span> -elected to be the Rupert Winters’ chauffeur; they -don’t know it yet, but they <i>will</i> when it is time); -“shure,” says he, “whin thot man so mashed up -there ye cudn’t move him for fear ye’d lose the -main parrt of him, whin <i>he</i> was thinkin’ of the -town and nothin’ else, I hadn’t the heart to be -complainin’ for the loss of a few teeth and a few -limps about me! An’ I fair wu’ked like the divil. -So did Kito, who’s a dacint Jap gintleman and no -haythin at all.”</p> - -<p>Poor Keatcham, he had no childhood and his -wife died too soon to revive the fragrance of his -youth; but I can’t help but think he had a reticent, -awkward, shy sort of heart somewhere about him. -Well, he was what Millicent would call “a compelling -personality.” I use plain language and I -call him a great man. He won the lion’s share because -he was the lion. And yet, poor Lion, his -share was a lonely life and a tragic death.</p> - -<p class="center">THE END</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph1">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[A]</a> Of course, no allusions are made to any real M. 20139.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[B]</a></p> - -<div class="poetry-container2"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">So still and calm the night is,</div> -<div class="indent">The very winds asleep,</div> -<div class="verse">My heart’s so tender sentinel</div> -<div class="indent">His watch and ward doth keep.</div> -<div class="verse">And on the wings of zephyrs soft</div> -<div class="indent">That wander how they will,</div> -<div class="indent">To thee, O woman fair, to thee</div> -<div class="indent">My prayers go fluttering still.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Oh, take the heart’s love to thy heart</div> -<div class="indent">Of one that doth adore!</div> -<div class="verse">Have pity, add not to the flame</div> -<div class="indent">That burns thy troubadour!</div> -<div class="verse">And if compassion stirs thy breast</div> -<div class="indent">For my eternal woe,</div> -<div class="indent">Oh, as I love thee, loveliest</div> -<div class="indent">Of women, love me so!</div> -</div></div></div> - -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> - -<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> -</div></div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S SHARE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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