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diff --git a/old/69204-0.txt b/old/69204-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index bc53d89..0000000 --- a/old/69204-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8468 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The white cipher, by Henry Leverage - -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 -www.gutenberg.org. 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. - -Title: The white cipher - -Author: Henry Leverage - -Release Date: October 22, 2022 [eBook #69204] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WHITE CIPHER *** - - - - - -THE WHITE CIPHER - -BY HENRY LEVERAGE - -AUTHOR OF WHISPERING WIRES, Etc. - -NEW YORK - -GROSSET & DUNLAP - -PUBLISHERS - - - - -COPYRIGHT, 1919 BY - -MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY - -First Edition—June 1st, 1919 - -Second Edition—July 28th, 1919 - - - - -TO - -“A WILD STAR” - - - - -CONTENTS - - ------- ------------------------ - I. The Open Gate - II. Scotland Yard - III. The Cipher - IV. Saidee Isaacs - V. At Daybreak - VI. Edged Tools - VII. Passengers for Holland - VIII. Lurking Shadows - IX. Robbery under Arms - X. A Return Stroke - XI. Checkmated - XII. Smoked-glasses - XIII. The Long Arm - XIV. The House of the Lions - XV. Solved - ------- ------------------------ - - - - -THE WHITE CIPHER - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE OPEN GATE - - -Swirled in the maze of a slow awakening, dropped through an abyss from -zenith to nadir, the prisoner came out of his dreams and stared through -the bars of his door to the pearl gray of the coming dawn. - -C-45—better known in international underworld circles as Chester Fay, -alias Edward Letchmere—was serving ten years at hard labor for the -crime, committed against the peace and dignity of the country, of -opening—by means unguessed by Scotland Yard—a jeweler’s strong-box in -Hatton Gardens; which is, aside from “The Old Lady of Threadneedle -Street,” the strictest patrolled district in the city of London. - -Chester Fay, alias Edward Letchmere, studied the crack of dawn as it -crept over the man-made barricade, through the slotted windows of the -great gray cell block, and bathed the harsh walls of the prison with the -rosy light of pearl changed into ruby and from ruby into gold. - -And there was something prophetic in the mellow magic of the chromatic -changes in the English sky! - -A bell clanged at the front of the prison. A key grated in a lock. An -iron door opened. Shuffling feet sounded, like an old woman’s in a lane. -C-45 lowered the edge of his shoddy blanket—stamped here and there with -the broad arrow—and watched where the grated bars of the door formed -tiny crosses against the dull gray of the wall. - -The shuffling came nearer the cell. It stopped. A key clicked against -another. The footfalls were resumed. A surly beef-and-beer face blotted -out the light from the corridor as Chester Fay raised himself upon his -hinged shelf. - -“C-45?” inquired the turnkey. - -“Y—es,” breathed Fay. - -The aged turnkey squinted at the paper he held in trembling fingers. He -eyed the door number and blinked his matted lashes. - -“C-45,” he said, “get your clothes on. Y’re going hout!” - -Had the slaty roof of the stony coffin, which he had learned to call -home, fallen down upon him, Fay would not have been more surprised. He -twisted his lithe body, touched his bare toes to the cold stones of the -flagging, and stood erect, the heart within his breast throbbing like an -imprisoned bird. - -The red, peering face beyond the bars, the tiny rimmed eyes with their -matted lashes, the thick purple lips, the bulbous nose of the turnkey, -represented British justice carried to the furthermost limit of caution -and concern for His Majesty’s prisoners. - -Fay had hated this guard over the five years at Dartmoor as he had hated -the gruel and molasses served in the morning, the stew at noon, or the -gummy oakum piled in the cell to be picked strand by strand in an -unending drudgery. - -Now this “screw,” so called by the inmates of Dartmoor, had delivered -the sweetest words ever dropped into human ears. Fay never knew how he -dressed on that morning. It was done. He waited and pressed his slender -body against the latticed bars, with his ears straining to catch the -iron music of the thrown bolt. - -The great key turned. The door swung open. Fay glided out from his cell -and stood at attention with his fingers touching against the seams of -his dirt-gray prison trousers. - -The guard locked the door. He peered at the paper he held. He squinted -at the number upon the stone over the doorway, then he motioned Fay to -follow him up the long corridor of the white-flagged cell block. - -The prisoner followed the burly form of his keeper. He threw back his -keen-cut face while his eyes lighted with a sanguine fire that burned -clear through the gloom to the iron door of liberty. - -This door swung open after a signal was passed between guard and keeper. -Prisoners pressed white faces to the many bars of the place. A whisper -ran from cell to cell. The American was going free! They watched Fay as -he passed through the arch and sank back into their narrow coffins as -the great door clanged. - -Fay waited, breathed silently, compressed his lips, then followed the -guard along a narrow hallway and into an open court, whose one -high-barred gate was flanked by two castellated towers upon which -sentries stood with rifles swung under their arms. - -MacKeenon, of Scotland Yard, stood in the very center of the courtyard. -At the inspector’s feet a yellow kit-bag rested. Over the Scot’s right -arm a plaid overcoat hung. Within the detective’s light-blue eyes there -sparkled the dry twinkle of recognition. - -Chester Fay moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. He hesitated, -then advanced step by step. He had last seen Inspector MacKeenon on the -witness dais of the September Assizes. It was the Scot’s testimony -concerning a certain finger-print which had carried the staid British -jury. Such a trifle! - -A sandy-colored hand crept up to MacKeenon’s chin and covered his mouth. -The eyes closed to narrow slits. It was like a sly old dog warning -another, not so sly, not near so old. Chester Fay understood. He turned -toward the turnkey who had brought him out. - -“Follow me, sir,” he heard him say. - -The way led across the courtyard, through a low stone arch and into a -Bertillon room, then to where a cold shower splashed upon well-scoured -flags. The turnkey pointed to the descending water. Fay stripped, tossed -the hated clothes away from him, lathed his lean, long-limbed body and -mopped his silver-gray hair. It had been brown when he had entered the -castellated gate, five long years before the unexpected coming of -Inspector MacKeenon. - -The clothes the turnkey brought had evidently come out of the yellow -kit-bag. They fitted. They were of price and rich texture. There were -also the little things which a gentleman carries—a flat, gold watch, a -set of studs and cuff-links, a pearl pin and a neat cigarette case which -contained six cigarettes. - -Fay accepted all these things with the abstract air of one born lucky. -He did not understand the meaning of it all. Discharged prisoners, or -those released by order of the Home Secretary, were fitted with H.M.P. -garments made of shoddy by piece-work convicts whose hearts were -elsewhere when they worked. - -“Hall ready, sir?” asked the red-faced guard with strange civility. - -Fay lifted his slender shoulders slightly, adjusted his cuffs, touched -his cravat and faced the light which streamed in through the Bertillon -room. He did not answer the turnkey. The sovereign contempt of a caged -eagle was in his glance. - -He drew down his plaid cap which matched so well the suit of tweeds, -lowered his chin and followed the turnkey out into the glad light of -dawning day and across the stone-flagged yard to MacKeenon’s side. - -A prison clerk—one of those rat-eyed trusties whom nobody trusts—hurried -out from the Principal Keeper’s office with an oblong of printed paper. -He passed this release to MacKeenon. - -The inspector signed it with the butt of a badly chewed indelible -pencil, glanced at Fay, then said distinctly—too distinctly: - -“A receipt for C-45. Yea, he may b’back. Ye canna tell!” - -To the man who had prowled the world like a tiger a jungle—to the third -cracksman living who could open a modern cannon-ball safe or stop the -four circular tumblers of a strong-box in their correct position—this -sly aside of MacKeenon’s was enlightening. The old gray dog, whose scent -was keener than a Louisiana bloodhound’s, was baying down the trail -again for some wolf-pack of the underworld. - -Chester Fay set his pale face and fingered his cravat. He dropped his -hands to his side and followed the inspector out through a rising gate, -where the two men stood facing the misted moorland and the spiring -towers of Princetown beyond the causeway. As they stood there a clang -sounded behind. It was the turnkey bringing down the shutter of iron. - -A sleeve-valved motor, black, tired with steel-studded rubber, throbbing -with life and a desire to roll up the road, stood close at hand. Into -the tonneau of this car MacKeenon tossed the kit-bag and overcoat, then -turned and assisted Fay to mount the running-board, where he had -hesitated for the minutest fraction of a second. - -Liberty was over that causeway. Freedom might be gained by a try at the -marshes and moorland. The mist was almost thick enough to hide in. The -world beyond was very wide indeed. The chance which offered might never -come again. Fay had lost opportunity too often not to weigh well the one -that came to him. - -He felt the Inspector’s fingers on his sleeve. They seemed gentle. There -was that, however, in the gripping mystery of his release that savored -of things to come. Perhaps, after all, the man from the Yard had other -plans than the underworld. Perhaps the release had to do with the great -war which had finally been brought to an end. It would be easy to -escape, for Fay had the lithe, long limbs of the runner. - -But he thought better of it and stepped through the tonneau door where -MacKeenon had assisted him. The surge, as the car leaped forward and the -driver glided through second, third and into fourth speed, was just -sufficient to cause him to sit down upon the seat, where the inspector, -with solicitude, offered one half of an auto robe whose woolen texture -felt like silk to a man who had slept under shoddy for five years. - -The mist-shrouded moors were crossed over rumbling bridges of planks or -hollow arches of stone. The main highway, which swung from west to east -upon the troubled isle, was reached. Into this broad road the driver -turned the great car, stepped upon the governor-throttle and opened wide -the triple-jetted carburetor. - -A hissing of indrawn air sounded. The wind of their swift passage struck -back and cut the cuticle of Fay’s white cheeks. They flushed and -reddened with the rush of warm blood up through his sagged veins. He -felt then the sweet wine of life and living—the clean vision and promise -of the open places. - -He sat in one position, turning over and over the riddle of his sudden -freedom. It was like being reborn—rejuvenated. - -MacKeenon had said no word. He crouched like a watchful hound, ready, -alert for the first overt act. Fay had weighed the chances when he had -first entered the car. They still held good. The great motor often -slowed for traffic—for the tide of war which flowed Londonward, even -after the last treaty of peace had been signed. - -Lorries, caissons, embarked troops in olive-drab, invalided officers and -men strolling through the rare English meadows, all were a maelstrom -where freedom from pursuit could be had. - -Fay feared no living man or group of men. He had played the underworld -game according to his code. It had been a losing one, perhaps; but he -had held it down to the last grim brush with the hounds of the law in -the Court of Assizes. He had not whimpered. He had not squealed. There -was that rat, Dutch Gus, and that pigeon, Nelly Blake, who might have -stuck by a pal. They were gone now with their telltale eyes and their -overextended sympathies. - -Also, for he had played many parts, there was Saidee Isaacs. Where was -she now? She had been different. A hell-cat, perhaps, but then Saidee -was a man’s girl and a lady. Had she gone up or down during the five -years at Dartmoor? Fay rather thought, as he gripped the rare leather of -the car’s upholstery, that Saidee would be found in West London. Could -she have anything to do with his release? - -MacKeenon, alone, could answer this riddle. He turned his chin slightly -and studied the cold face of the Scotch inspector. There was no light in -his eyes. He sat half on the edge of the seat. His toes touched the rug -on the tonneau floor. He was prepared to spring or clap on a pair of -nippers. He was the personification of British watchfulness and -sagacity. - -The detective had played his hand, five years before, in taking -advantage of information. He had told the truth on the witness dais, as -he knew it. He had not enlarged on the damning evidence. It had been -large enough. Down in his heart Fay did not blame MacKeenon for -testifying as he did. It had sent him away, but then it was part of the -game. It was an added corollary to the ancient axiom: “A sleuth can make -a thousand mistakes and yet may get his quarry—the quarry dare not -afford to overlook the smallest trifle.” - -Noon passed. Night drew its shade across the eastern world. The long, -black motor car hurtled on without being stopped, without question from -the decorated officers who regulated the traffic. - -There was a hidden magic in the H.M.S. plates which hung from the front -axle and the rear trunk rack. There was a keen hand at the wheel who -knew the turns and the signals. He drove as if the weight of an empire -depended on getting to his destination. - -Chester Fay, letting slip a hundred chances for escape, found himself in -the gripping clutch of the unknown which lay before him. MacKeenon had a -plan in the back of his long Scotch head. Its very uncertainty gripped -the cracksman in a passive nip of steel. - -The inspector would talk, yes. Fay believed that he would discuss the -weather, the earth and the heaven above, without betraying the one thing -which was hurling them eastward at racing speed. - -This thing was the reason for taking a prisoner out of the living hell -of Dartmoor before the long years of penance had been up. It was -unusual; it was extraordinary save in the case where a crook squealed -and turned Crown’s evidence. - -The Scotch inspector most certainly knew that he had no such man to deal -with! - -The reaching fringe of London was entered. The sky grew pale. Dusk fell -with the great roaring car brightening the asphalt road ahead with -flickering, dancing electrics of tremendous candle-power. - -Hyde Park Corner was reached. Piccadilly lay ahead. Sombre mansions -reared on either hand. A hospital, bright with the flags of the -victorious Allies, was passed with closed muffler. The car swerved -toward the Thames. The lamps were dimmed as the Embankment loomed with -its monuments. The brakes went on. - -Fay gripped his oakum-stained nails deep within the palms of his white -hands. He had a premonition that his destination was to be New Scotland -Yard. Prisoners were sometimes taken there for interrogation. - -The house the car stopped at, with a final clamp of the brakes on the -rear wheels, was inconspicuous among its neighbors. It was smug and -staid and held the air of secret things. A faint light shone through the -closed blinds on the ground floor. Two iron lions guarded the top of a -small flight of well scoured steps. A constable of the Metropolitan -Police Force stood at attention as the driver shifted his lever to -neutral and touched the black visor of his cap. - -MacKeenon set his lips and opened the tonneau door on the right-hand -side of the car. The inspector rolled up the lap-robe, handed Fay the -overcoat and lifted the kit-bag. He paused for the cracksman to rise. - -Chester Fay felt the creeping fingers of the detective. They strayed -over his tweed sleeve and gripped his elbow with no mean strength. They -were like hound’s teeth feeling for a grip. - -“Ye coom with me,” said MacKeenon dryly. - -Fay raised his shoulders and stepped to the running-board. His feet -glided over the curb like a quick dancer’s. He followed the inspector, a -quarter-step behind. They passed through an iron-grilled fence, took the -salute of the constable, and reached the landing between the two lions. - -A dark, stained door barred the way. Upon the right panel of this door -MacKeenon knocked four times, then five; which Fay remembered, with a -start, was his number at Dartmoor. - -He glanced first at the kit-bag, and then turned his head slightly and -finished his scrutiny of the yard and street. Freedom lay there in the -gloom of London! - -He tossed away what he believed was his last chance as the door opened -to a crack and then wide. There was no alternative as MacKeenon’s -fingers gripped for a second and stronger hold. Chester Fay, alias -Edward Letchmere, entered the House of the Two Lions, blindly. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -SCOTLAND YARD - - -There is that within the professional criminal’s nature which distrusts -the men who carry out the laws. The laws, themselves, may be fair, but -man, in the cracksman’s opinion, is a human element who is very liable -to overplay his part. - -Chester Fay had lain too long on the hard planks at Dartmoor to believe -in MacKeenon’s good intentions. The Scot had a reputation for getting -results. He was also the very keen tool of brainier men who managed the -Criminal Intelligence Division of Scotland Yard. - -The romance of all underworld activity on the Continent and in England -was bound up in the Yard. Its long arm could reach down a blind alley in -Paris and snatch a man to the light of justice. It could lift a fleeing -suspect from the deck of a ship at sea. It stopped at nothing! - -Fay suspected a well-baited trap of the superior order as he followed -MacKeenon through a dim-lighted hallway. He gripped his palms as they -waited in the gloom for a door to be unlocked by the servant who had -answered the inspector’s knock of four taps and then five. - -The room which was suddenly revealed, like the flash of a cinematograph, -contained a long mahogany table running from wall to wall, and a -half-score of heavy teakwood chairs which blended into the rich dark -finish of the wainscoting. There was little else in the way of -furnishings. Fay counted three black tin boxes upon the table. Each box -was marked with a code number and the initials C. I. D. His eyes lifted -over these boxes and stared at a man who wore a mask which was far too -small to hide a jaw so square and masterful. It brought a slight smile -of recognition to the cracksman’s lips. - -The man in the mask was Sir Richard Colstrom, Chief of the Criminal -Investigation Division! - -Fay divined, with the flash thoughts of a professional, that the matter -of bringing him out of Dartmoor was an important one. It could be -nothing puerile with Sir Richard mixed up in the case. The chief played -a high hand and played it hard. - -The farce of the mask was apparent when MacKeenon softly closed the door -to the hallway, turned the key, then coughed as in a signal. Sir Richard -half rose from the deep chair in which he had been reclining and leaned -his elbows upon the table. His finger lowered and leveled straight for -Fay’s steady glance. - -“Remove your cap!” - -Fay smiled thinly, reached upward and brought down the plaid cap which -he bunched in his right hand. The silver of his hair caught the chief’s -eyes. Sir Richard raised his brows and glanced at MacKeenon. He said -cuttingly: - -“A little older—a little wiser—a little grayer than before, eh Mac?” - -“A’ hae noo doot ov it.” - -Both men laughed at Fay’s expense. The cracksman failed to see the joke. -He stiffened slightly and glanced about the room. The windows were -shaded and undoubtedly locked. The lamps of the place were controlled by -a switch near the door which led to the hallway. This seemed to be the -only entrance or exit to the room. - -Sir Richard noted the result of his thrust with a steady glint in his -eyes. He leaned further over the table and said: - -“I had you brought to London for a reason, Fay.” - -The cracksman closed his fists and straightened his slender shoulders. -He distrusted Sir Richard full-heartedly. There is that which exists -between the police and the criminal tribes which calls for no truce. Fay -was completely on his guard. - -“I had you brought here,” continued the Chief of Staff, “after some -study of the right and the wrong in the matter. We have your record!” - -Sir Richard pointed toward the south and the direction of New Scotland -Yard. - -“Yes, we have it,” he continued slowly. “It’s a criminal shame, Fay, -that a man of your ability ever entered the downward path of crime. It -leads nowhere, and damn fast you go. You’re bucking the stream all of -the time. You can’t beat the law!” - -Fay glanced along his tweed suit and studied the points of his -well-polished shoes. They fitted so well he wondered if they had been -made from his Bertillon measurements. He glanced up and into Sir -Richard’s half-hidden eyes. - -“You can’t beat it—clever as you are! And, however much we may enjoy -enterprise and however many shilling-shockers and penny-dreadfuls we -have devoured, the fact remains, Fay, that you have sadly misapplied -your splendid talents.” - -Fay took the flattery for what he thought it was worth. He waited with -every sense keen and intent. - -“But for you,” continued Sir Richard, shaking his index-finger, “but for -you and your kind, literature would be poorer—we’ll grant that—” - -Fay heard MacKeenon rounding the corner of the table and fingering the -locked boxes. - -“We’ll grant it!” snapped Sir Richard testily. “We’ll grant your -talents. It is because of them that we have brought you here tonight! As -man to man, Fay, we’re in a knot. I’m sure you are the one rogue in all -the known world who can help us out. I’m going to be very candid!” - -Fay said nothing. - -“See these?” exclaimed Sir Richard, pointing at the boxes upon the -mahogany table. “See them?” - -MacKeenon stepped back into the gloom of the room. Fay followed the -direction of Sir Richard’s polished fingernail. He raised his brows in -polite query. He still remained mute. - -“Damnit man!” said the chief of the Intelligence Division, “Wake up! -Show interest! It’s easy enough for us to send you back.” - -The cracksman acknowledged this threat by leaning closer to the boxes. -He studied the cryptic numbers on their sides. He turned his head -slightly and laid the plaid cap on the edge of the table. - -“They’d be easy opened,” he offered professionally. - -“Bah! That isn’t what we want. What we want is this—without mincing -words. We want your coöperation. Let’s be brief as time and get to the -heart of the matter. These boxes, three in number, contain the secrets -of the entire dye industry. They were obtained in Switzerland during the -middle period of the war. They are in cipher!” - -“German?” asked Fay with cold concern. - -“Yes, damnit, German! No other nation could show such fiendish cunning -in hiding so simple a thing. The cipher is one to which neither Scotland -Yard, the Intelligence Bureau of the Army and Navy, French experts on -such matters, nor the American Secret Service have been able to find the -slightest clue.” - -Fay had the good sense to hold his tongue. Sir Richard was warming up to -the problem. He shifted in his chair, glanced at MacKeenon, then toward -the three boxes. - -“The cipher,” he said, tapping the table with his forefinger, “is either -very simple or very intricate. It is no half-way affair. It has baffled -all the experts!” - -The cracksman eyed the locks of the boxes with professional concern. He -shifted his weight from his right leg to his left foot. He yawned -politely and passed his hand over his silver-gray hair. As yet no trust -or warmth showed in his eyes. They were neutral. - -Sir Richard adjusted his mask and leaned forward. His eyes bored through -the holes in the black velvet. “Whatever the case may be, Fay,” he said, -“the key for this code or cipher was in the hands of a Berlin chemist -who met with a most violent death in—we will say a country north and -east of here. You can guess which one it is!” - -“Holland?” - -“Perhaps. We’ll leave the matter rest with your surmise. In -this—country—north and east of here, the German chemist did one thing -before he was slain. He left a small packet with the neutral nation’s -embassy. It was placed in their care. This packet is of vital importance -to us! It is important to your own country, Fay. It is the key to the -cipher locked in these three boxes.” - -“Well?” asked Fay as Sir Richard paused and thrust out his hand. “Well, -what have I got to do with all this?” - -Sir Richard doubled up his fingers and tapped the polished surface of -the table with his white knuckles. He turned, threw one leg over the -other and stared at MacKeenon. The Scotch inspector nodded ever so -slightly. It was like a sly dog signaling another. - -The air of the long room was tense as the three men faced each other. -The outer roar of London sounded far away. The steady clank of the -constable’s feet on the hard curb was a reminder to Fay that the house -was well guarded. He thawed a trifle and fastened upon Sir Richard an -engaging smile which was coated with clean-cut intentiveness. - -“What have I got to do with all this?” he repeated, holding forth his -hands. “You’ve released me—on parole. You’ve brought me to London. -You’ve mentioned boxes and ciphers and dye-stuff. You want something, -and yet behind me stands an officer of the law, and outside, walks -another. If you want something, from me, why don’t you let me go?” - -The shot was delivered through clean, white teeth. The smile faded from -the cracksman’s lips. He leaned slightly forward and locked Sir -Richard’s eyes with a glance that caused the chief of the bureau to -recoil slightly. - -“Yes!” said Fay hotly. “Yes, Sir Richard—oh, I know you! You’ve gyved -me! You hounded me! You threw me in that hell-hole called Dartmoor with -the wooden-minded screws walking before my cell till I thought I would -go mad. You saw to it that I was sent away for the limit! Now you want -something, and you won’t trust me away from your coppers!” - -“Coppers?” asked Sir Richard removing the mask and dropping it to the -table. “What are coppers, Fay?” - -“Police! Screws! Guards! Turnkeys! Hell-hounds!” - -Sir Richard stared at MacKeenon and motioned toward the door. - -“Go out, Mac,” he said, “and leave us to ourselves. I think that Fay and -I can come to an understanding better that way.” - -The inspector hesitated, walked to the door, turned the key and passed -out into the hallway. - -The door closed as Sir Richard rubbed his hands, eyed Fay with interest, -and leaned back in the chair. - -“Now,” he said, “we are alone. I’ve no doubt that you can get away. In -fact I’d hate to match myself against you, Fay. We have your record, you -know.” - -“A lot of it isn’t true!” said Fay bitterly. “You people are always -making up things. I didn’t turn that trick in Hatton Gardens. Why, do -you think I’d work without gloves?” - -“I didn’t think so, Chester,” said Sir Richard with a faint smile. “I -really didn’t, but I guess you did!” - -“Bah!” - -“Oh, now, don’t take it that way. The strong-box was opened—without -trace. Up over the transom was a trace—your right thumb print. It was a -nice clean job, Fay. I always thought that Saidee Isaacs was with you -that night.” The chief leaned slightly forward. He watched the -cracksman’s eyes for a clue. There was none. Fay returned the stare -without expression. He said staunchly: - -“Miss Saidee Isaacs had no more to do with that job than you had or I -had. I don’t even know where Hatton Gardens is.” - -“That’s enough! You know and I know. You’ve got the cunning of your -tribe—admit nothing and deny everything. But I’ve taken an interest in -you—a personal one. Things have come up—” - -Sir Richard glanced at the door and then at the three boxes. He crossed -his legs and drummed the table. His brow furrowed as he reached forward -and fingered the velvet mask. - -“Come closer, Fay,” he said confidentially. “around here.” - -Fay was frankly suspicious. He turned sharply and stared at the windows. -He eyed the door behind which he sensed that MacKeenon would be -crouching. He wheeled and rested his hands on the table. He leaned -forward until his face was very close to Sir Richard’s. - -“We can talk just as well in this position,” he said without moving his -drawn lips. “Now, what are you getting at, chief?” - -“I thought that Saidee Isaacs was in it,” said Sir Richard. “I’ll take -my statement back. But you were, and I’m glad of it.” - -Fay rubbed his wrists and stared at his oakum-stained nails. He dropped -his cuffs and stood back. He waited with fast beating heart. The man -before him was fencing like a clever fiend. He already had drawn speech -where silence was golden. Fay remembered with a pang that the Hatton -Gardens affair was not the only one he had been guilty of perpetrating -in the Metropolitan District of London. There was a little matter of -turning a museum off in Kensington Gardens. There was the Monica affair -where a diamond salesman had lost a pint of uncut stones. - -Sir Richard guessed what was passing in the cracksman’s mind. He smiled -with sudden warmth. His head came forward as his right hand reached out. -“You think this is a police trap, Fay,” he said sincerely. “It isn’t at -all. It’s an attempt to call upon the highest talent in the world—in his -own particular line. We all have specialties. Mine is trying to raise -better dahlias than my neighbor. Yours is opening strong-boxes which -American safe-makers have branded as burglar-proof. That big crib in -Hatton Gardens was an American box, wasn’t it?” - -“How should I know?” asked Fay. - -“Well, it was! It was made by the Seabold people of Hartford. Guaranteed -fire-proof and burglar-proof and non-pickable. It didn’t burn up, but -everything else happened to it.” - -Fay smiled openly. He liked Sir Richard better for the remark. He grew -more at ease as he waited. “Well,” he suggested, “I’m here with you, and -you’ve got something for me to do. I can guess that much. Does it -concern a Seabold safe?” - -“It most certainly does!” - -Fay stared at the three boxes. He furrowed his brow. They were not part -of any American safe he had ever known. They were more like the -tin-cases which middle-aged drabs carried about the Law Courts or the -Brokerage Houses. Their locks could have been opened with a hair-pin. - -“You’ll have to explain, chief.” - -Sir Richard swung open his coat and drew from the inner pocket a small -notebook. He thumbed the pages and paused at one. “Seabold Safe -Corporation, Limited,” he said. “They placed a number of their -strong-boxes in England and the Continent. Their salespeople were very -enterprising. We have a record, from their own files, of seven. Four of -the seven were smaller than the one in Hatton Gardens. The lock, or -whatever it is called, was different.” - -Sir Richard glanced up and then buried his nose between the pages of the -notebook. - -“Two of the larger,” he said musingly, “were installed in Paris. They’re -there yet. The one that interests us is in the country—north and east of -here. It is the same size and general dimensions as the unfortunate one -you opened in Hatton Gardens. I understand the situation is -similar—parallel. It would be ridiculously easy for a man of your talent -to go to this country, north and east of here, and open that -strong-box—without trace.” - -Sir Richard snapped the book shut and glanced up at Fay. - -The cracksman slightly moistened his lips. The cat was out of the bag! -The reason for MacKeenon’s visit to Dartmoor—the release when five years -were yet to be served—the sudden interest of Sir Richard Colstrom, were -all explained. England, who had severely punished him, now wanted a -favor done. - -The two men exchanged a glance of mutual understanding. Fay’s mind -worked swiftly. He went over the details of his arrest. He recalled the -method he had used in opening the great safe in Hatton Gardens. No other -man could have done it, save by bungling. - -“Suppose,” he said, feeling surer of his ground. “Suppose, Sir Richard, -we will say that I can go to Holland and open that box—without trace. -What would there be in it for me?” - -“Ah, we’re getting on!” - -“I’m not so sure that we are getting anywhere, for what would happen to -me if I were lagged in Holland? Suppose somebody tipped me off? What -then?” - -“You and I alone know what you are going to do.” - -“MacKeenon?” - -“He obeys orders. I like you, Fay. Damnit, I admire enterprise—even if -it is opening strong-boxes! What would Scotland Yard be if there weren’t -men like you in the world? You’re a mark and all that, but you’ve done -one or two big things in your line.” - -Fay rubbed his wrists as if handcuffs were still binding him. He shifted -his weight and eyed the three boxes with new concern. “My price,” he -said, “may be more than you or England are willing to pay.” - -“No price is too high to pay for the key to this cipher.” Sir Richard -jerked a thumb toward the black boxes. “The secret for making these dyes -will save the world from a galling monopoly. It will make the place we -live in, Fay, just that much safer for Democracy. The war between -nations is over. There will come another war—the commercial one between -Germany and the world. We can best win that war by being prepared—by -dye-works and potash deposits and freedom from secret formulae.” - -Fay nodded at this statement. “My country—America—is interested in -this?” he asked. - -“Yes and no! Your country shares with England in every discovery. This -set of boxes which contain the cipher were obtained in Switzerland at a -high cost. Three of our men were waylaid and killed. Two more were -trapped in a Berne hotel and had to fight their way out. The German -chemist who offered the dye secrets—at a price—is dead by poison. We got -the boxes through. They contain the full details of manufacturing -thirty-six of the principal dyes. They are in a baffling cipher which -has held us up.” - -“And the key to this cipher is in the Holland safe?” - -“We believe so. A friend of the man who was poisoned brought the key out -and across the German border. He was followed by German agents. He was -in danger of his life. What was more natural than an appeal to the -embassy? They took the key, placed it in their safe, and waited for -instructions. In the meantime the man was stabbed to death in broad -daylight, near the Schwartz Canal. His pockets were rifled! His clothes -were torn from his body!” - -“Sounds like a pleasant commission,” said Fay dryly. - -“You’ll tackle it?” - -Fay eyed Sir Richard, then reached for his cap. - -“Does it mean my freedom?” he asked as he fingered the visor. - -“It certainly does, Chester! That little bit you did in Dartmoor never -happened. You were sent away, wrong. I’ll answer for the Home Secretary. -We can arrange everything! Come now—can we call upon you to go to that -country, north and east of here, and open the embassy’s vault without -compromising us or without leaving a trace? All we want is the key to -the cipher. If you’re not willing to make a try for it—then—” - -Sir Richard hesitated and rose from his chair. He stood with his hands -clasping the edge of the table. His jaw was thrust forward like a block. -His eyes hardened to points of tempered steel. They bored toward the -cracksman. “Take your pick, Fay!” he said in a last appeal. - -“Pick of what?” - -“Getting the key to the cipher or going back to Dartmoor!” - -“There’s no alternative,” said Fay with a rare smile. “I’ll turn the -trick for you and England! If I don’t turn the trick, without trace and -without compromise, then I’ll knock on the big gate at the prison and -ask to be taken in. Is that satisfactory, Sir Richard Colstrom?” - -“I never had the slightest doubt of you,” said the Chief of the Criminal -Investigation Division. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE CIPHER - - -Chester Fay watched the stout form of the Chief of Division as he -crossed the room, tapped lightly on the door which led to the hallway, -then waited with his fingers toying with a heavy, gold chain which -crossed a vest the color of old wine. - -MacKeenon turned the knob and came into the room. He closed and locked -the door at Sir Richard’s suggestion. He sniffed the air of the room, -glanced keenly toward Fay, then said: - -“Ye have come to an understanding?” - -“We have!” declared Sir Richard. “Fay is with us. You know what that -means? We are bound to get the key and trick the Germans.” - -“A’ hae noo doot ov it,” said the Scotch detective, rubbing his hands -and peering for a second time at the cracksman. “A verra gude mon—but a -wee bit reckless.” - -Sir Richard laughed pleasantly. “Oh, we’re all that way—more or less. I -guess it was recklessness that broke the Hindenburg Line. It would never -have been done if we had counted the cost.” - -Fay moved around the end of the table and stood by the three black -boxes. He studied the situation from every angle. It was possible to -escape. It was not too late to go back on his bargain with Sir Richard. -A swift rush, the bowling over of the two detectives, and a plunge -through the shrubbery of the house would carry him to westward, where -quiet, shaded lamps and reaching aisles of mansions would offer freedom -for all time. - -He waited to hear more. The gripping mystery of the cipher clutched and -stilled his desire for liberty. There would be other chances at a later -hour. - -There was something of the American in Sir Richard. Fay watched the two -detectives come across the room, take seats at the table and then pull -toward themselves the locked boxes. - -“We’ll begin at the beginning,” said the chief, glancing up at the -ceiling and then into Fay’s eyes. “Take a seat, Chester, right here! I -want to explain to you about the cipher and the dye business.” - -Fay turned and gripped the ornate arms of a teakwood chair which had -certainly come from India in one of the old hulks. He turned this chair -so that the light from the overhead cluster would shine in the faces of -the two detectives and leave his in shadow. It was an old trick! - -He sat down, pulled up the knees of his tweed trousers and leaned -slightly forward in an attitude of attention. Sir Richard had already -drawn a small key from his pocket. This key was evidently the one to the -three locks of the boxes. - -“What do you know about German dyes?” snapped the chief as he held out -the key. “Know anything at all, Fay?” - -“I’ve heard of fast-black.” - -“Is that all?” - -“About all, Chief. I suppose the Germans have gone deeper into the -subject than most men. I thought the States had made some new -discoveries. You see I didn’t get much chance to read in the last place -I was in. The subject of reading for occasional offenders should be -called to the attention of the Home Secretary.” - -“I’ll mention it,” said Sir Richard dryly. “I might add that the Home -Secretary and I have spent three months on this damn cipher.” - -Fay leveled his shaded eyes toward the boxes. He glanced at Sir Richard. -There was a frown on the chief’s face and an angry pucker about his -strong mouth. - -“Three months, on a cipher! Let me see it, Chief.” - -Sir Richard turned toward MacKeenon. “Better get up and stand by the -windows when I open these boxes,” he said. “We can’t be too careful. -There is a billion pounds involved in this!” - -Fay was impressed for the first time since leaving the sombre walls of -Dartmoor. Sir Richard was no man to exaggerate. He might have had the -treasure of the Diamond Clique as he reached, pulled a box close up to -his side, inserted the key and slowly lifted the sheet-metal lid. - -The cracksman leaned out of the shadow and into the light. Sir Richard -laid the key upon the polished surface of the table, thrust his fingers -inside the box and drew out a sheet of white paper. He held this sheet -so that Fay could read the top lines. They were: - -“SCHUCKER—MAINTZ—WERKE—FRANKFORT ON MAIN—BERLIN” - -Underneath this heading was an even row of ten-point letters, the first -of which ran: - - “aaahhhsssaaacccstopxxxgggssstttstopmmmwwwccc - pppfffbbbstopxxxzzzccceeesssuuukkkwwwssstttst - opyyynnnvvvfffssshhhstopmmmtttnnnpppwwwfffccc” - -Fay counted thirty-two rows of similar letters, between the lines of -which were double spaces of blank white. He turned to the box as Sir -Richard replaced the sheet and snapped down the lid. - -“They’re all like that,” said the chief bitterly. “It’s a clever, clever -cipher. A cipher that runs through ten reams of paper. There’s all of -six hundred thousand letters in the thing. There’s at least thirty or -forty thousand words. The whole will give us the formulae to such dyes -as Alizarine Sapphire and Carbanthrene Blue.” - -“Might be the names of sleeping cars,” said Fay. - -“They’re much-wanted dyes! The man who was slain in Switzerland said the -formulae to these two colors would be found in the boxes. They may be -there, but we haven’t found them!” - -MacKeenon lowered a blind and turned. He sniffed with the scent of a -baffled hound. The pouches at the side of his cheeks dropped, his teeth -showed beneath curled gums. Fay wheeled upon him suddenly and was -startled at the inspector’s appearance. It was as if the old dog had -snarled in silence. - -“We’ll continue,” broke in Sir Richard as he shoved the box upon the -table. “The game isn’t lost! There’s a key to the cipher in the -embassy.” - -“Have you tried everything?” asked Fay. “How about these cipher experts? -I’ve heard they can cipher anything. There’s a Russian in Dartmoor who -used to talk to the whole gallery by tapping on his bars. All you had to -know was the key-word and deduct the numbers it represented from the -numbers he sent. The quotient would be the message.” - -“We’ve tried that,” snapped Sir Richard. “Believe me, Fay, that was the -first thing tried. It’s the Nihilist key-word cipher! Fifty of the -keenest brains in Europe and America have worked on this thing. It does -not follow Bacon’s biliteral cipher or Poe’s cryptogram. It has some of -the marks of an old Italian cipher used in the time of Pope Alexander. -It isn’t that! It has already driven one professor of mathematics mad. -He cross-indexed it and tried it backward. He found a queer average in -the repetition of certain letters. They followed no sane rule. For that -reason he went insane. More may go mad if this thing isn’t solved. It -represents the final triumph over Germany—the winning of the commercial -war which is upon us!” - -Fay drew his head back into the shadow. He still retained the ringing -timbre of Sir Richard’s voice. The energetic chief of the Intelligence -Division had once been on a mission to the States. He had learned much -that was American on that visit. - -“Damnit!” he heard Sir Richard blurt. “We’re not children! We have -defeated the Germans on the field of battle. Why can’t we solve a simple -cipher?” - -“What did you pay for it?” Fay shot the question out of the shadow and -watched its effect on Sir Richard’s features. - -“Pay for it? What do you mean, Fay?” - -“What did you pay that man in Switzerland?” - -“Ten thousand pounds.” - -“And the fellow in Holland?” - -“He died too soon to receive his share. The money went to the general -funds.” - -Fay crossed his legs and glanced at the slender shape of the boots he -wore. “I think you have been gulled,” he said with the ghost of a smile. -“I think that cipher in the boxes is a bum steer, if you know what that -means. You tossed away ten thousand pounds—like that!” Fay threw out his -hand expressively. - -Sir Richard blinked both eyes. The frown died from his face, wrinkle by -wrinkle. He leaned back in his chair, thrust his knees against the edge -of the table and said, half to Fay, half to MacKeenon: - -“Mac thought the same thing! You’re both wrong. The thing was tested -before the money was paid. The agent who completed the transaction in -Switzerland made no mistake. He went to extreme length in the matter.” - -“How?” asked Fay. - -“He named a dye—a fast blue—which the German chemist said was one of the -thirty-six which were fully worked out in the formulae. The chemist took -the boxes, went into a room, and came out with the formula of the -fast-blue, down to the last reaction. It couldn’t be done by any trick -of memory!” - -“That sounds plausible,” Fay said. “Then it is no hoax?” - -“It’s straight goods, Fay! The five thousand sheets in these three boxes -contain the chemical formulae for the thirty-six dyes. The devil of it -is, we lost the key, in—the country north and east of here. You’re going -to get that key for us!” - -“Just a moment. Isn’t it possible that the whole thing is a blind?” - -“Be clear!” - -“I mean that the lines of letters, thirty-two or three on each page, are -there for a gull?” - -“Go on!” - -“They might be a gull for fools to go mad about. The real cipher may be -within the lines. That also is a common practice at Dartmoor. Men have -received letters from the outside which are written with lemon juice -between the lines. All they did was to heat the paper and the message -came out in brown ink.” - -Sir Richard smiled broadly. “That has been thought of,” he said, -glancing at MacKeenon. “To be frank, as I said, everything has been -tried. We’ve even split some of the paper. We’ve tried every reaction -known to science. We’ve bathed the sheets in oxalic acid and iodine. -There was only one clue in this direction.” - -Fay lifted his hand and fingered the pearl-pin in his cravat. - -“That one clue,” continued Sir Richard, “was the report of an American -chemist that he detected a salt in the composition of the paper. It was -so faint, however, that nothing came of it. We’re squarely up against -the last card—that big gopher in the embassy!” - -Fay frowned slightly at the chief’s use of an American yegg’s pet name -for a strong-box. It showed Sir Richard’s versatility, and also showed -the cracksman what manner of man he was dealing with. - -“Gopher has gone out,” said Fay in correction. “Only the low-brows of -the Middle Western States use it. You should say: ‘can or jug or -keister.’” - -“We’ll compromise on ‘crib,’ a good old word used in the time of Jack -Cade and other mid-Victorian gentlemen!” - -“All right, Chief! You want me to take it—without trace. In it I’m to -find the key to the cipher—if there is a key. What can you say -concerning the key? Is it a book, paper or design of some kind?” - -“Now we’re getting close!” Sir Richard exclaimed. “It is a small packet -in the back of the embassy’s crib. It was seen only last week by a -trusted agent who could go no further. This agent informs me that the -neutral nation, north and east of here, is in a quandary concerning it. -Germany has requested that the packet be returned over her border.” - -“Any marks of identification?” - -“Yes! You will always know it by a name written in ink across one -corner, under a blue string. The name is Otto Mononsonburg—the man who -was stabbed in the back, near the Schwartz Canal.” - -“Ah,” said Fay, “the matter seems easy. I get my freedom?” - -“If you get the packet and turn it over to me.” - -“I’ll get it! Now a number of other things, Sir Richard—” Fay turned and -stared at the lurking figure of the Scotch inspector. MacKeenon lifted -his hand and stroked his jaw with a sly motion. His eyes swung from -Fay’s to Sir Richard’s. They held the glint of the manhunter and the -hound. A tawny fire was in them. - -For the second time that evening there came an air of tenseness into the -room. Fay felt it as he watched the Scotch inspector. Try, as he should, -he could never get over the feeling that the detective was his born -enemy. - -MacKeenon was so like a waiting collie. The leathern pouches of the -Scot—the curl to his lips—the fang-like teeth, all made this thing seem -real. - -With Sir Richard Colstrom there was this difference. The chief had -traveled far. He had taken the pains to acquire some of the argot of the -underworld. He was rated square—after he caught his quarry. Fay could -never believe that a manhunter played a fair game in running down -criminals. There was too much oral evidence to the contrary. There had -been a number of stool-pigeons in his life. To him, the despicable thing -about the game was the traitors. - -Born a gentleman’s son and riding swiftly through a moderate fortune, -Fay had taken the easier way. He had paid! There were other convictions -beside the Hatton Gardens affair recorded at Scotland Yard. - -Freedom was a precious thing. He gripped his lips with his teeth and -counted ten before he said to Sir Richard: - -“One of the conditions of this matter is that I have no hell-hounds of -the law trailing me!” - -Sir Richard glanced at MacKeenon. The two men understood each other down -to the fraction of a glance. - -“That’s all right,” said Sir Richard soothingly. “You can go scot-free. -All we want is the key to the cipher. Then, afterwards, you can wear -that perfectly good suit to the States instead of donning the broad -arrow at Dartmoor.” - -“Fine!” said Fay without warmth. “Now another matter—” - -“What is it?” - -“Money!” - -“You can have it.” - -“I’ll need a hundred pounds, now!” - -Sir Richard drew from his inner vest-pocket a thin bill-fold, which he -opened upon the table. From this he extracted ten ten-pound notes and -tossed them to Fay. - -“Count them,” he said as he replaced the bill-fold and made an entry in -the little book which he had already consulted when giving the data -concerning the strong-box in the embassy. - -“One hundred, correct!” said the cracksman, crinkling the sheath of -white papers. “Clean notes! I shall have to lose a shilling on the pound -with these.” - -“That’s the rate the fences get, eh?” - -Fay smiled as he thrust the bills in his tweed trousers. “How should I -know?” he inquired with good-nature. - -Sir Richard stared at MacKeenon. Both detectives mirrored Fay’s engaging -manner. The tensity of the air had vanished. - -“You’ll get another hundred pounds when you start,” Sir Richard said, -tapping the table. “When will you start?” - -“There’s another matter, Chief.” - -“And that is—?” - -“Passports and clearance papers or whatever you call them. I understand -there is still some difficulty on account of customs. I might as well -travel to Holland, first-class. That means a damn fine alibi of the -superior order. Have you any suggestions?” - -Sir Richard fingered the lapel of his coat. He turned this down after -thought. Fay leaned forward. He saw a little silver greyhound pinned -there. It was a passport in a million! - -“Do you know what this represents?” asked Sir Richard. - -Fay nodded his head and stared at the insignia. “It’s the badge of the -King’s Couriers.” - -“Correct!” - -“Do I get one?” - -“I can tell you where there is one which can be—stolen.” - -“Where?” - -Sir Richard allowed his lapel to flap back. - -He rested his elbows on the edge of the table and fastened upon Fay’s -eager face the cold scrutiny of a master advising a novice. - -“The King’s Couriers,” he said impressively, “is an ancient and -honorable order. The members of the office are chosen for fidelity and -speed—hence the greyhound. They can go anywhere by showing the insignia. -They need no passports or papers. Show this to a custom officer and he -will pass your luggage. Show this little badge to a Mandarin in China or -a Zelot in Afghanistan and it is all the same. You get through!” - -“Where can I get one?” - -Sir Richard beamed at Fay’s enthusiasm. “There’s a courier living in -Richmond Hill who has what you want,” said the chief. “This courier has -been to—the country north and east of here. From this courier you not -only will obtain the little silver greyhound, but also a detailed -description of the embassy where the key to the cipher is. I would -suggest that you turn the courier’s place of residence off tomorrow -night. We’ll give out that you escaped from Dartmoor and entered London -in some surprising manner. What would be more natural than you robbing a -house for clothes and papers? That will let us out in case of -complications with the neutral nation.” - -“You mean if I get caught?” - -“Stranger things than that have happened. Now, Fay—” - -Sir Richard pulled down the lapels of his coat and rose to his feet. He -pressed back the chair with his legs. He cleared his throat. - -“Now, Fay,” he continued impressively, “you have everything. The address -in Richmond Hill is Number 4, Rose Crescent. Go there tomorrow about -midnight and prowl the house. Get the little silver greyhound and talk -things over with the courier—who failed to do what you are going to do.” - -Fay moved toward the door after picking up his cap. MacKeenon glided to -his side. The cracksman stood erect. He turned slowly and stared at Sir -Richard, who was studying the cipher boxes. - -“Au revoir,” said Fay. - -The chief swung his head and rested his chin on his chest. - -“Same to you,” he said. “You’re hep! Now blow! Mum’s the office, pal! -The ducat and more kale will be ready for you at London Bridge Station -when you’re ready to go. Inspector MacKeenon, the niftiest gumshoe -runner out of the Yard, will fetch them at your order. Eh, Mac?” - -“Weil, I don’ know! I daurna disagree wi’ twa o’ you!” - -Sir Richard came back to respectability as he lifted his chin and -advanced his hand toward Fay. - -“Drop around Cockspur Street and the Strand,” he said. “Get the old, old -moss out of your head, Fay. Talk to the splendid men of your own country -who made victory possible. The town is full of Pershing’s boys! And -Fay—” - -The cracksman’s hand was on the door. - -“What is it?” he asked. - -“Don’t overlook the trifles. They beat you before!” - -“I’ll watch out for them!” - -“And, Fay—” - -“Y—es!” - -“Don’t look for Saidee Isaacs. Go right to Number 4, Rose Crescent and -turn the house off. You know how to do that!” - -Fay was half through the doorway. Sir Richard made a signal for -MacKeenon to draw back. The inspector’s face clouded as he caught the -order. He peered around the edge of the chamfering. His eyes snapped -like a wiry terrier’s as he heard the swift patter of footsteps on the -pavement. - -“He’s goon, mon!” he said. “Fay’s goon!” - -“Good!” said Sir Richard. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -SAIDEE ISAACS - - -Chester Fay felt the grip of a London night as he dodged in and out of -the neatly boxed trees that lined the street upon which was the quiet -house of the Two Lions. - -He did not glance back. He knew that only amateurs did things like that. -The five years in Dartmoor had taught him that liberty was a priceless -thing. There were guards and constables on that dark street. Some turned -and watched his fleeting form with suspicion. Any moment one might call -a halt. Every second, he expected to hear a shout from MacKeenon. - -The high tower of Westminster loomed over the housetops. Beyond this -tower was the House of Parliament. At its base ran the sullen flood of -the Thames. Over the river a bridge arched, strangely pale in the night -light. - -Gripping his palms, and somewhat surprised to find the overcoat over his -arm, he turned at the Embankment and there swept the street with the -corner of his eye. No man followed him. A single constable, half -curious, had stepped out on the asphalt. He stood like a post, his hands -on his bent knees. - -“Adieu, sir,” Fay laughed lightly. “Adieu, you there, and you Keenon and -you, Richard. You both would have let me rot in that hell on earth if -you hadn’t needed me. From now on, I’m a free agent! And the world is -wide.” - -Breathing the night air, Fay hurried toward the east. His shoulders were -squared and his heels and toes clicked over the hard stone without -visible effort. - -He walked in the same swinging gait until he reached the place where the -black shadow of Cleo’s Needle lifted against the leaden vault of the -London sky. - -Here he turned and leaned over the Embankment’s rail, The tide flowed -slowly toward the city and the sea. Bridges arched from shore to shore. -Great caravansaries loomed with their staring windows arranged in -shelf-like tiers. Beyond them sounded the roar of midnight traffic. - -A sudden loneliness came over him. He was without home or friends. The -years at Dartmoor had effaced many memories. They left one which was -overpowering. How little was human effort. There had been a time when -flash thieves with international reputations had pointed him out at the -St. James and Alhambra Lounge, as the king of cracksmen. The time was -gone. The old crew had either been caught or had died overseas on the -red fields of Flanders. Few served or continued their profession. - -Saidee Isaacs loomed before him. He searched the Thames and found her -face there. He closed his eyes and marked her flashing presence. He saw -her dark hair, her lashes, her olive cheeks and Madonna smile. That same -smile could change between the time of seconds to hate and rage. Dutch -Gus, who should have known, had called her the Mona Lisa of the -underworld. - -Fay wondered where she was living, as he tore his glance away from the -river and turned with his back to the wall. He had last seen her on that -eventful day when a cage had shot up in the court of Assizes, a judge -had pronounced the sentence, and the cage, with him in it, had dropped -down to the waiting van which had started for the prison with both -horses on a gallop. - -Her mouth had formed one word: “Courage!” - -He recalled all this as he struck the wall with his right heel. There -was little enough honor in the best of thieves. The stool-pigeons had -made squealing a profitable vocation. Men who traveled with golf-bags -filled with highly tempered tools of the safe-breaking profession, and -who sported small black motor cars of marvelous speed, were proper -marks. The pigeons or carelessness or something had dragged him down. -Fay often wondered, in those Dartmoor years, if Saidee Isaacs had a hand -in his conviction. - -MacKeenon would not give him Saidee’s address. Sir Richard had told him -to forget her. He decided, with a sudden start as Big Ben struck the -quarters, that the day that had been ushered in would be devoted to -finding Saidee Isaacs. She had some things to answer for—chief of which -was her reason for not writing to Dartmoor. - -He straightened, hung the coat over his arm, fished out a cigarette from -the case, and struck a match upon the damp stone and hurried away from -the river. - -Suddenly, and specter-like, a form blocked his way. It was an American -soldier clad in a well-fitting olive-drab uniform, upon the sleeves of -which was a wound-stripe. - -“Say, mister,” Fay heard. “Say, will you show me the way to my hotel? -It’s the Huntington, I guess. You guys in this burg call it different. -You call it the ’Untin’don, or something like that. D’ye know where it -is, Chappie?” - -“Surest thing you know, old pal,” said Fay, shifting the coat and -linking his arm under the soldier’s. “Come along with me—I’m going right -that way!” - -It was at the square, where the red mass of the Huntington Temperance -Hotel juts out into the Strand, that the soldier disengaged Fay’s arm -and stared at him. - -“Say,” he said, “are you a bloody Britisher?” - -“Surest thing you know.” - -“You don’t look like one.” - -“Looks are skin deep, my friend.” - -The soldier accepted a proffered cigarette from Fay’s gold case, glanced -at the tip, then declared as he reached for a match: - -“They may be skin deep, Chappie, but you remind me of the States—New -York! If you’re a Yank, why didn’t you get in the fight?” - -Fay had no ready answer for the thrust which most certainly went home. -He covered his confusion by accepting the half-burnt match, then he -laughed lightly. - -“Why didn’t I go to the fight?” he temporized. “I’ve got a good reason—a -very good one. I was never invited.” - -“Ah, go on!” - -“Besides,” said Fay, “I guess the fight is over.” - -The soldier glanced at the black band on his arm. “You’re an American?” -he insisted. - -“Well, suppose I am?” - -“And you came over here without a uniform?” - -“I’ve worn a uniform for five years,” said Fay truthfully. - -“What service?” - -“The King’s own!” - -“Gawan!” - -“Surest thing you know. And now, my friend,” he added, stepping back, -“I’m going to leave you at the Huntington—not ’Untin’don! Some day, when -you go back to the States and to Broadway, just drop into the Café -Ponsardine and tell the chap at the desk, in front, that you saw Chester -Fay. Tell him—you’ll know him by a bald spot, and a scar on his -chin—that I’m working for Scotland Yard. He may drop over when you tell -him that. He may buy you a drink!” - -“Ah, say!” - -Fay was gone with a finishing laugh. He turned into the Strand and -hurried eastward. He knew of a place where often he had spent the night -when the Yard was close on his heels in days gone by. This lodging for a -night was run by an ex-fence who bought only diamonds out of their -settings or large Bank of England notes. Clanson was his name. - -Fay turned a corner, leaned against the wall and lighted a cigarette in -the shadow of a doorway, within which was a deep, blue light. A -constable stood across the street in an attitude of resignation. There -was no other name for it. - -The cracksman shifted his coat from his right arm to his left, dropped -the cigarette to his feet and stepped briskly toward the same corner he -had rounded. It was an old trick of a man who feared a shadow. He saw -none. A “growler” or four wheeler, drawn by a decrepit nag, rattled over -the asphalt, going toward the West End. - -Assured, Fay turned and hurried up the side street until he reached a -small temperance hotel, at the side of which was a shop bearing the -ancient and honorable title of: “M. Clanson, Dealer in Antiques and -Foreign Monies.” - -Fay found a handle which he pulled twice, then twice more after a -five-second wait. He repeated the signal, known of old. A light showed -at the back of the shop. It came toward the front. Clanson, in night cap -and with a candle held over his head, pressed his bloated face to the -dusty pane of the door. His nose grew white on the tip, as he stared at -Fay. He drew back with a smirk and started removing two chains and -rattling at least one key. The door opened on a third chain. - -“A passenger from the west,” said Fay, using an old countersign. - -Clanson growled and closed the door. The last chain was guided from its -channel. The door opened wide. Fay stepped in briskly. He did not look -back of him. - -“From the west,” he said as Clanson locked the door. “I’ve a scratch or -two I want changed.” - -“Let’s see,” said the ex-fence, staring at Fay and then at the drippings -from the candle. “It’s been six, no five years, since you were in here. -Much water has flowed through the Thames since then.” - -“And some blood,” said Fay, laying his coat on the top of a dusty -show-case within which was a collection of Japanese and Javanese daggers -with wicked-looking points and yellow ivory handles. “Some blood,” he -added, turning and reaching in his pocket. - -Clanson nodded his gray head. He stared at the front of the shop, then -at Fay’s hand, which came out with the ten-pound notes Sir Richard had -given to him. - -“Two and six off the pound,” he said craftily. - -“Then,” said Fay, peeling off one half the notes, “I’ll keep a few! -Funny, too, these happen to be good.” - -Clanson blinked and counted the sheath. “Five,” he said, dryly. “That’s -makes six pun and five bobs—off. How’ll you have it, Edward? Let’s see, -wasn’t it Edward? You had so many.” - -Fay watched Clanson and the candle vanish into the gloom of the shop. -Minutes passed wherein he could have obtained a collection of daggers -and jade paper-knives. Clanson was opening his strong-box. The old -rogue, who once said, “If there were no receivers there would be no -thieves,” evidently thought the Bank of England notes were stolen -property. Fay had no other way in all London to change them. Besides, it -would be possible for the Yard to trail him by the numbers on the notes. - -Clanson came back, deposited the candle on the showcase near Fay’s tweed -coat, and started counting out newly minted sovereigns with fingers that -were loth to see them go. - -He finished the count with two one-pound Bank of Ireland notes and a -stack of bright shillings. - -“There’s forty-three, fifteen,” he said. “All nice new money. Times was -when you brought me more than that, Edward.” - -Fay pocketed the coins and bills without counting them. He thrust his -right hand under his coat, wheeled and stepped briskly to the door. - -“So long!” he drawled as Clanson peered out, then turned the key. “Oh,” -he added as a subtle afterthought, “what have you heard of Saidee -Isaacs?” - -The ex-fence coughed before he answered: “Little, lad! A gentleman was -in from the west the other day—a fortnight ago, who asked the same -question. Stout gentleman who used to come with you, Edward. -Dutch—Dutch—” - -“Dutch Gus!” snarled Fay, with his eyes flashing. “That rat?” - -“He asked about little Saidee Isaacs. I told him the same as I tell you. -I know nothing. A lady like her—with her motor car and her slavy or two, -don’t happen this way often.” - -“Motor car?” asked Fay blankly. - -“The same, lad. Twice I saw it. Once in Cockspur Street, once in -Piccadilly, at Berkeley Street.” - -Fay fastened upon the old man a glance which flamed white fire. “Open -the door!” he said, swinging his coat. “Let me out! Me rotting in that -hell-on-earth and she in a—” - -Clanson stared after the form of Fay as he darted over the street and -swung westward. Then the ex-fence closed and chained the door. - -There is a cab-stand where Regent Street leaves Piccadilly. To this -stand Fay hurried, sprang into a two-wheeler, and said very distinctly -to an ancient driver: - -“Park Lane!” - -“’Ow?” asked the driver. - -“To Park Lane, very quickly.” - -“Certainly, sir,” mumbled the driver, climbing up the back and tilting -the shafts to a dangerous angle. “Gee-up!” he added, cracking the whip. - -Fay stopped the cab at the corner of Hyde Park where Oxford Street is -joined by Park Lane. He sprang out, tossed the leaning driver two bright -shillings and started south toward the looming shadows of many mansions. - -Reaching Hyde Park Corner he struck westward in a long swinging glide. -The hour was after two. The night was a black pocket, blurred here and -there with blue jewels from the arcs. - -He had planned to take a night’s rest at the hotel which flanked -Clanson’s Antique Shop. The dealer’s statement concerning Dutch Gus, -and, moreover, Saidee Isaacs, changed this plan. He wanted to walk in -the wide places. No trace of drowsiness weighed his eye-lids. Shepherd -Bush—the Thames—Richmond and Hammersmith, were ahead of him. There was -no law in England that prevented a man taking the road. Fay went on, -with his oakum-stained nails gripping his palms, his eyes set ahead and -slightly upward where the yellow vault of the London sky pressed down on -his throbbing temples. - -He came, but not by design, to hedge-ensconced villas and the many -winding lanes of Richmond Hill! - -“Number 4, Rose Crescent,” flashed through his brain. This was the -address given to him by Sir Richard Colstrom. - -He glanced under the long shelf of boughs which stretched toward the -south and the river. The sight was a pleasing one, despite the night’s -dew. Smart driveways, box-hedges, clumps of well trimmed trees and the -ghostly outlines of Queen Anne cottages and villas showed that he was in -one of the better parts of London. - -He glided along the grass, momentarily expecting to be accosted by a -constable. The hour was almost three. The chimes of Big Ben were -somewhat distant. The roar of the city was far away. The smug dwellers -of Richmond Hill were wrapped in slumber. - -Rose Crescent proved to be a circular drive, bordered by plane trees -whose trunks were encased in iron-grilled railings. Neat curb-steps bore -the names of the owners. A lodge-house was passed with the gates closed -and barred. - -The numbers on the curb-stones or on top of the steps started running -down as Fay hurried toward a cross road and the barrier of a high hedge -which enclosed some vast estate. - -He stopped as he reached Number 6. The next villa would be the address -mentioned by Sir Richard. Fay stepped to the curb and glanced up and -down from under the shelter of an overhanging bough. No one was in -sight! - -Turning swiftly, he darted through the shrubbery of Number 6 and tiptoed -along the driveway. The gravel crunched slightly as he worked toward the -back of a stately villa. He stepped to the grass, listened a moment, -then dropped to his hands and knees and crawled through an opening in a -hedge. He rose, strained his eyes, and stared up at the wall before him. - -A mansard roof, gables on the corners, well-curtained bays and wide -porches, denoted one of the smartest of London houses. A small garage at -the end of the driveway had room for two motor cars. A side house, well -hidden in shrubbery, probably contained the servants. The all, in the -night’s gloom, was a picture to charm most any prowler. - -Fay studied the lower windows, with a professional glance. He drew -himself back into the hedge as he heard a click and then the sound of -somebody moving at the front of the villa. - -Steeled and alert, he waited with every nerve tingling. The first sound -was followed by the slight grating of feet upon a porch. A blurred and -well muffled head was thrust around the edge of a white post. Sharp eyes -searched the shrubbery and the hedge. Fay remained motionless. He held -his breath. - -Then and shrillingly, there came a signal from the other side of the -villa. The head on the porch was jerked back. A burly form leaped to the -grass where the driveway turned about the house. This form rebounded, -stood erect, then came lumbering toward Fay and the back of the villa. - -The shrill cry of warning was repeated. Fay drew himself into the -smallest possible shadow. A man lunged past him. This man’s face was -revealed for a moment like a flash seen on a picture screen. It was -unmistakable. It was memory haunting. - -“Dutch Gus,” breathed Fay, hardly daring to move. “That’s Dutch Gus.” He -heard the crash of glass as the prowler stepped through a low -greenhouse. A fence broke under a man’s weight in the back of the -garage. Afterwards came profound silence, until a far-off dog barked and -signaled the man’s passing. - -Fay waited. It was barely possible that things would quiet down. He had -heard no sound from the villa. - -The mystery of the affair gripped him in a passive vise. Dutch Gus was -the last man he had expected to see in that part of London. MacKeenon or -even Sir Richard might have visited the villa. A King’s courier lived in -the house, from all information. Then, asked Fay to himself, what was -the connection between Dutch Gus, the lookout, Sir Richard and the owner -of the villa? The entire matter was bound up in some manner with his -quest after the cipher’s key. - -Fay had lived alone too long to believe that the presence of the crook -in that neighborhood could be laid to chance. He had often studied the -law of chances. They were infinite in the matter of meeting a friend or -enemy in a strange locality. The police never caught their quarry -through the chance meeting. It was always by a lead or a given -direction. - -He turned the problem over in his quick way as he waited for some -development from the villa. He had no fear for himself. The night was -too dark for pursuit. There were innumerable side lanes and turns and -twists to that part of London. The constables were either asleep or -dozing in sheltered nooks. - -Glancing upward, after emerging from the hedge, Fay studied the windows -on the side of the villa. No light shone from any of them. A light would -have been an indication that Dutch Gus and his lumbering get-away had -aroused the occupants. - -The absence of any light was disconcerting, however. It would be equally -easy for someone inside to keep watch without revealing his presence. In -fancy he saw a lower curtain move. He dismissed this notion as time -passed. He waited, realizing that nothing would be gained by a retreat. -He was on the grounds of the villa he had been told to prowl. His coming -there had frightened Dutch Gus into a bungling get-a-way, which was some -satisfaction after all. - -The warp and woof of the cipher affair would very likely prove a tangle -of many lives. Fay had not yet decided that he would go to that country -north and east of London and open the strong-box in the embassy. He had -not felt a call for patriotism in the enterprise. Rather, the matter -would have to shape itself. He distrusted the police and Scotland Yard -from bitter experience. And now, despite his efforts to the contrary, -fate or chance had brought him to the very house that Sir Richard had -wanted him to prowl. - -He dropped to one knee, finally. Swiftly rolling the coat into a small -bundle he pressed it under a bush. Rising and listening with his senses -alert, he poised upon his toes, then started toward the nearest window, -which was the rear one of a huge bay. - -Reaching this, after avoiding the gravel walk by stepping over it, he -crouched beneath the sill and pressed his ear to the frame-work of the -wall. His hearing was cell-matured and acute. The presence of anybody -above him, or any movement in the house, would be instantly detected. He -heard no one. - -Working swiftly, he tried the window. It was locked, as he expected. -Reaching upward, after pulling on a pair of gloves which had been in the -pocket of the coat, he climbed by means of a vine and a ledge to the -sill, where he cupped his hands and studied the lock. - -It was the ordinary kind he knew so well. There was a thin-bladed knife -on the end of his watch-chain. He drew this out and ran its blade -between the sashes. He struck the upper sash with the palm of his hand. -He pressed the lower sash and found the catch moving on stiff pivots. -One more try and the lock was in the off position. He waited then, ready -to spring to the ground or raise the window. - -No sound came from the house. Fay bent his back, reached down with his -left fingers and slowly raised the window. The opening he made was not -over a foot in height. - -Stooping and grasping the sill, he thrust his feet through, turned his -body and squirmed inside. He straightened swiftly and waited. Nothing -happened. - -Soft curtains barred his way to the room. He reached out and pressed -these aside with cool fingers. The scent of a Japanese perfume greeted -his keen nostrils. Within this scent was another—the faint odor of -heliotrope. - -Frowning slightly, he wondered at this. It brought memories with its -fragrant essence. Years before, somewhere, he had known that peculiar -sweetness. It lifted him, and brought to his mind what he had missed in -life’s great game. - -Stepping forward, he moved amid the furniture of the room, caught his -directions by instinct, which is given to animals and prowlers, and -passed through a double door whose panels, down to the rugs, were tiny -crystals of glass. - -He reached the opposite side of the villa from which he had entered. He -opened a catch and raised a window so that a hand-hold was between the -sash and sill. Satisfied that he had two avenues of escape, he went back -through the door of cut-glass and stood in the center of the first room. - -Gradually, his eyes brought out the splendid details of the furnishings. -Soft pillows mounded box-couches and cozy nooks. Tapestries and -portières hung along the walls. A dark-wood stand was at his right hand. -Upon this was a cloisonné tea set and a lacquer tray. The gold -arabesques of the tray came through the gloom. A dragon stared at him. - -“Nice place,” he thought. “One of these hundred pounds a year affairs.” - -He felt then, rather than heard, the movement of a curtain at the front -of the room. A slight chill swept through the air. It was as if someone -had swished by. - -Fay, alert and crouching, blinked his eyes in the direction of the -danger. He lowered his hands and half turned toward the window by which -he had entered the room. It was too late. A switch snapped upon the -wall. A blinding glare sprang from a score of frosted bulbs. The cluster -overhead seemed to explode with light. The room and all its details were -revealed within the time of two seconds. - -A woman stood between the portières which separated the front parlor -from the room with the bay. A pair of very determined eyes flashed over -the blue-steel of a medium-calibre revolver of superior make. Above the -eyes was a pink night cap. Beneath the extended arm, which was as steady -as a marksman’s, Fay saw the soft sheen of a pair of pajamas which were -partly hidden by a belted bathrobe. - -He neither backed away nor changed color. He never had feared a gun. He -stood, half turned away from the menace of the revolver. His eyes -accustomed themselves to the blinding light. His hand raised and bunched -his plaid cap from his silver-gray hair. He bowed as the woman lowered -the revolver and let it dangle at her side. - -“Chester Fay!” she exclaimed. - -The cracksman’s manner might have been Chesterfield’s as he swept the -floor with his cap. - -The little lady with the business-like revolver was Saidee Isaacs! - - - - -CHAPTER V - -AT DAYBREAK - - -Chester Fay had the saving grace of lightning analysis. He had received -the surprise of his life without showing it. The sweep of his plaid cap, -as he bowed to Saidee Isaacs and straightened himself with lithe -swiftness, had allowed him time to piece together a number of things. - -He stared at her with a quizzical smile that illumined his keen features -and disarmed suspicion. Sir Richard, old in the ways of the world, had -managed the meeting. The presence of Dutch Gus was as yet to be -explained. The events of the night, however, were closely woven -together. Fay did not believe that chance or coincidence played the -slightest part in the matter. - -The long arm of luck had not caused him to enter the one house in all of -London where Saidee Isaacs dwelt. Nor did the long arm of coincidence -bring Dutch Gus to that part of Richmond Hill. The Yard, the girl, the -cipher and the presence of the German crook were all one web, woven in a -pattern. - -“Well?” said Saidee Isaacs. “Well, Chester, when did you get out?” - -Fay fingered his cap and stared directly into the girl’s brown eyes. -They were soft but he had seen them flash livid fire on more than one -occasion. - -“When did I get out?” he repeated. “When did I? You ought to know!” - -Saidee Isaacs tapped the thick rug with her silver-buckled slipper. She -glanced down her dark lashes and uncocked the revolver with a practiced -motion. - -“Why should I know?” she asked, glancing up. - -“I think you had a hand in it!” - -“You do?” - -“Yes.” - -Saidee Isaacs swished her hair back from her forehead as she removed the -lacy night cap and tossed it upon a divan. “Come sit down,” she said, -“and tell me about it. Tell me, Chester, why you think I had anything to -do with getting you sprung.” - -“‘Sprung’ is good,” said Fay, tossing his cap after the dainty one. - -“But,” he added, “I don’t like to think that you let me rot in that -place for five years—without writing a line.” - -“I had a reason!” - -“Well, it’ll have to be a good one. We quit, Saidee, if it isn’t! What -does all this mean?” Fay swept his hands about the room. He stepped -swiftly toward the portières and parted them. He darted a quick glance -around a well-cushioned and thick-rugged parlor. “Who’s upstairs?” he -asked, turning and coming back to her. - -“Jealous?” She was sitting on the divan as she asked this question. - -He flamed, with the red blood mounting his white cheeks and burning his -temples. - -“Who’s upstairs?” he asked in deadly earnestness. - -“Nobody!” - -“Nobody at all?” - -“I’m all alone.” - -“The servants?” Fay glanced toward the rear of the room where a -half-door to a butler’s pantry showed. - -“They are having a night off. Besides,” she added swiftly, “I was -expecting you. I didn’t think you’d bungle things as you did. I heard -you on the porch. You stepped on the electric rug, Chester. It didn’t -remind me of old times, at all.” - -Fay’s brain worked swiftly. It was evident that Saidee did not know that -Dutch Gus had attempted to pay her a visit. He closed his lips, sat down -on the divan at a discreet distance, and studied her from the corner of -his left eye. She had not aged since last he had known her. The rings on -her fingers were more splendid than he had ever seen her wear. The -shadow of a frown crossed his features as he noted a necklace about her -throat. - -She tapped the rug, with a cold smile bringing down the corners of her -mouth. She turned then and stared at him. His eyes stared back at her. -Neither moved. Fay tried to read what was transpiring in her mind. He -caught the scent of heliotrope from her negligee. It softened him with -old memory. He leaned closer, hardly daring to breathe. - -“Chester,” she said finally, “you’re the biggest fool I ever knew. -You’re always making mistakes. That finger-print! That slip in Paris, -ten years ago. And now, you stepping on a rug and blundering about. Why -didn’t you come straight to me—not like a thief in the night?” - -“I came the way I was sent!” - -She arched her brows. “The Yard don’t send their agents that way,” she -said. - -“So!” said Fay, “you know! You got me out so I’d be a stool-pigeon for -Sir Richard. That’s it—is it?” - -“A stool, Chester? Think what you’re saying. Think of the old, old days -when we were going dead wrong. Why, this is a different thing!” - -“What do you mean, Saidee?” - -She smiled inscrutably, which was her ancient charm to him. Her eyes -glowed as she reached out an overly jeweled hand. “All bets in the crook -game are off,” she said with American directness. “They’re off for a -time, Chester. I got you out of Dartmoor for bigger game.” - -Fay had never fully understood Saidee Isaacs. The riddle-woman was -strong in her. She was two natures as wide apart as the poles. She could -hate stronger and longer than anybody he had ever known. Her love, which -had never been given to any man, would mean all in all. - -“You,” he said bitterly, “were long in getting to this big game. It’s -been five years, plus one day, since you told me to have courage, in -that court room. That was just after the beak pronounced the limit.” - -“Kindly refrain from slang, Chester.” - -“Oh, you!” he snapped, with his eyes flashing. “You—you lady! Since -when? I suppose you’ve forgotten the Maiden Lane affair or the pint of -uncut stones we switched on the sucker who came up from the Cape. I—” - -Saidee Isaacs had risen and stood facing him. “Another word,” she said, -“and it’s all off between us! I had you sprung, to use your old slang. I -used my influence with Sir Richard. I told him that you were the only -living man who could open that box in Holland, without leaving a trace. -He mentioned other box-men—Sheeney Mike and Foley the Goat and little -Eddie Richards. They’re all doing bits in England. You were my choice, -and he sent for you!” - -“How about the Hatton Gardens affair influencing him?” - -“It did, in a way,” admitted the girl as she narrowed her eyes. “But the -main thing was that he had sent—somebody who failed. That somebody came -back and recommended you. It’s a hard safe to crack. It’s well watched. -Besides, Sir Richard wanted it done without trace.” - -Fay felt more at ease as he motioned toward the divan with his left -hand. “You seem to know a lot about this, Saidee. Were you the King’s -Courier? Do I get a little silver greyhound from you?” - -She hesitated and then sat down. Her hands folded in her lap. The jewels -glittered and flashed the white fire from the electric globes. Her eyes -widened. An elusive smile lurked in their corners as she turned to him. - -“Of course not!” she said archly. “Do you think I could open a big safe -like you can? You foolish boy!” - -“I’ve phoned Sir Richard my house might be burglarized and report that -the thief stole a silver greyhound and some clothes. That’s only an -alibi for Scotland Yard in case of international complications. You know -they might happen.” - -Fay moistened his lips and leaned back against the cushions. Saidee had -offered a naïve explanation which hardly rang true. She had not -explained how clothes and a King’s messenger happened to be in a rather -smart Richmond Hill villa. - -“Oh, you’re too deep for me,” he said frankly. “I’ll take your word, -Saidee. I always have. Come across with the badge and the diagram of the -embassy. Sir Richard said I would get them here at Number 4.” - -“What time is it?” - -“Almost daybreak,” he said, glancing from the dial of his watch to the -windows. “I haven’t had a bit of sleep since the screw woke me up -this—yesterday morning, and told me to get my clothes on. Think how I -felt!” - -“The screw?” - -“Yes! The damn blear-eyed, sneaking cockney who counted me so often I -thought he’d wear my buttons off. Five counts a day in Dartmoor, -Saidee.” - -“Do you think it pays?” - -“You’re no one to ask me that!” Fay shot the statement through clean, -white teeth, then studied its effect on the girl at his side. - -She tapped the point of her slipper upon the rug, rose, glanced toward -the half-door to the butler’s pantry, and said: - -“I’ve squared it, Chester. Come, and I’ll make some tea and a little -lunch. I want to show you how quickly one can climb up when they quit -fighting, fighting the police of the world.” - -Fay walked by the girl’s side, then fell one step behind her as she led -the way through a curtain and down a passage to a kitchen which was -illuminated by a single wall cluster. - -He stood erect on the well-scoured tiling and glanced about with -amazement. There was everything in the culinary art within the four -white walls. A wine box showed with its drip pan. A row of many shaped -glasses, arranged in half-dozens, stretched along two shelves. A -cocktail-shaker hung on a hook. A recess above the glasses was filled -with dark bottles whose seals spoke of price and age. - -Bins, drawers, an electric-stove, half-barrels, china with a tiny gold -crest, knives and silverware, were at the further end of the kitchen. A -door was set in the wall, through which the servants passed. Fay eyed -this door as he asked: - -“Who paid for all this?” - -“Jealous?” asked the girl, as she placed a pot on the stove and snapped -on a switch. - -“Who paid for it?” he repeated hotly. - -Saidee Isaacs wheeled and came toward him. Her eyes were no longer the -inscrutable pools of dark brown. They flashed and drove him back toward -the wall. - -“Who paid for it? I did!” she exclaimed. “How do you think I got it? By -wiles or guiles or knavery? By lowering myself to a moll-buzzer or a -store hister? No, and you know it! I earned it, Chester Fay!” - -“In five years?” - -“Yes—in less! In four years! I want you to take back what you said.” - -“I didn’t say anything, Saidee. I didn’t—” - -“Well, you were going to!” - -Fay smiled and only increased her anger. “You thought something,” she -said staunchly. “You have no right to ask me who paid for this house or -the things in it.” - -“I take it back,” said Fay, glancing toward the electric-stove. “The -water’s boiling, Saidee,” he added. “Let’s start all over again. I’m -beginning to like this little kitchen.” - -Saidee Isaacs shaded her eyes with her lashes and switched off the -current. A Japanese pot came out of a closet. Two cups followed it. Tea -was made as Fay watched her moving swiftly over a sideboard upon which -she sliced tongue, bread and a heaping mound of old English fruit cake. - -“Bring up a chair!” she commanded. “Bring two!” - -He moved the chairs over the tiling and offered her one. She drew it to -her side, turned and stared at his hair. “I noticed that first,” she -said, softening her voice slightly. “It was brown when you went in.” - -“It was! It would have been white instead of gray if you hadn’t seen Sir -Richard. Ten years of that hell! Look at my nails.” - -“I noticed them,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Do you think there is -anything in crime?” - -“Not lately,” Fay blurted as he seated himself. “Pass the tea, please.” - -She poured the cup full and poised the Japanese pot. “You’re going to -square it now?” she asked. - -“I may!” - -“I want you to promise. I want you to go to Holland and open that -strong-box. I don’t want you to fail me. Remember it’s me! Sir Richard -and the rest don’t count. You’re doing it for me, because I -recommended—” - -“Ah,” said Fay, “then it was you?” - -Saidee Isaacs bit her lower lip. “I had a hand in it,” she said. “But -you mustn’t think I went to Holland or anything like that. The party who -went there—failed. I don’t fail as a rule!” - -Fay glanced keenly at her. She returned the stare bravely. Her breast -lifted and fell as she breathed with emotion. “I did what I could for -the Yard,” she added quickly. “I have the diagram of the embassy. I have -the little silver greyhound, which is to be your passport.” - -“Is it effective?” - -“Tremendously so! Why, everybody just makes way for you when you wear -it. It’s a magic talisman these days, Chester.” - -Fay reached for the cake and poised a slice over his tea cup. He studied -the pattern on the little silver spoon. It was monogrammed “S. I.” The -cup was also marked with her initials. - -“I like this place,” he said with naïveté. “I was worried all the time -that you would go clear down and out. And here you’re living like a -princess of the blood. How do you do it?” - -Saidee Isaacs pushed back the chair and rose. She glanced down at Fay -with an intent expression. Her long, dark lashes gave a silken look to -her eyes. - -“I’ll get the diagram,” she offered, moving toward the door which led to -the front of the house. “Don’t ask so many questions! Take what you -get!” - -“One fine little girl,” he thought as he watched her vanishing form. -“But,” he added, munching on the cake with his chin lowered, “she’s -dangerous, and I know it. Wonder what she did to earn all this?” - -Saidee reappeared, closed the door and laid an envelope upon the -sideboard. She sat down after pouring out more tea. She tapped the -envelope with her fingers, hastily tore across one end and dumped out a -folded piece of white paper and an object done up in thin yellow tissue. - -“This is the silver greyhound,” she said, “which only King’s Couriers -are supposed to wear. You prowled this house tonight and opened my wall -safe. You could do that blindfolded. I paid five pounds for it, and -there’s only three hundred possible combinations.” - -Fay showed professional concern as he took the silver greyhound from the -girl’s fingers and held it out appraisingly. - -He pinned it to the right lapel of his tweed coat and leaned back. “Now -the map,” he said. “The little diagram the gay-cat got in Holland.” - -“I told you to be careful with the slang, Chester. ‘Gay-cat’ is very bad -form. ‘Courier’ would be better.” - -“Let me see it!” - -Saidee opened the paper and laid it down between the two tea cups. It -was a well-done diagram of the main floor of a splendid house. The -streets were named. The locality of the safe was shown in red ink. -Beneath the diagram was a notation which Fay saw was in Saidee’s -handwriting—fine and precise. - -“Read it,” he asked, straining his eyes. - -“Oh, it goes on to say that a very wise little safecracker will find an -American strong-box with two dials and a dial-keister. The day door is -secured by a flat lock which probably can be picked. The safe stands on -a concrete and tile flooring. There is a space overhead hardly big -enough for a man to secrete himself. The sides of the safe are in plain -view of two streets.” - -“Go on,” said Fay as Saidee Isaacs glanced up. “That’s your handwriting. -I still think you went to Holland.” - -“Be careful! Don’t tell all that you think, Chester. You’ll spoil our -midnight party.” - -“It’s almost a daylight one!” - -She glanced at a pantry window. “Gray dawn,” she said musingly. “The -cold, gray dawn, Chester.” - -“And time I’m going, I suppose,” he said, reaching and taking the -diagram. He held it before him and ran his eyes to left and right over -the paper. His glance was the keen darting one of a professional. - -“This stairway?” he asked, pointing toward a series of shaded lines. -“Where does that lead?” - -“Down to a basement.” - -“What’s in it?” - -“Rooms, where some of the embassy’s staff spend the day. There’s no one -there at night. The guards are outside. One watchman stays by the safe. -He usually sleeps from three to four-thirty. He gets coffee, then, from -a woman who brings it to him.” - -Fay glanced at her without betraying his mood. - -“This packet Sir Richard told me about?” he asked. “This cipher’s key, -done up in paper with string around it and a name across one corner, is -where, Saidee?” - -“On a top shelf in the keister. You’ll have to go through the day-door, -the outer door and the keister door before you reach it.” - -Fay arched his brows and leaned over toward her. “What’s upstairs?” he -inquired. - -“More rooms and offices. Sometimes the embassy’s staff work all night in -the front chambers. You can usually tell by a light in the front. If -there’s no light then the staff has completed its work and gone home.” - -“Very precise, Saidee. You’re clearing up things, nicely. Also, you’ve -been there for the Yard. Nothing on this earth could make me believe -that you haven’t.” - -“Finish your tea,” she said, “and come into the other room.” - -Fay pocketed the diagram and fingered the little silver greyhound as he -rose and followed Saidee Isaacs through the doorway. - -She stood near the divan but did not motion for him to sit down. Her -eyes fastened upon his tweed cap close by her own. She gathered her lips -into a sympathetic pucker as she asked: - -“Have you any money?” - -Fay tapped his trousers pocket. “Plenty,” he said lightly. “I’ve money -and more money coming. The clinking quid, Saidee! Remember how we went -after it, once?” - -“We took the wrong road, Chester.” She turned and stared at him. Her -eyes opened and studied his silver-gray hair. His keen, white features -and rounded chin brought her over the years and then back again. - -“You promise me,” she asked, “that you will go straight? That you will -get a sleep at some respectable hotel and meet whom you are to meet -tonight? That you will remember me on your trip to Holland?” - -Fay reached and picked up his cap. He remembered that his overcoat was -beneath the hedge outside the window. There was one other matter. He -moved close to her side and touched the sleeve of her bathrobe. - -“Saidee,” he inquired in a deadly level voice, “when did you see Dutch -Gus?” - -He had expected a surprise. Her arm grew rigid. Her head turned and -flashed the jewels of the necklace till they dazzled his eyes. The olive -purity of her face changed to a flushing rage. She swished around, -jerked her arm from him and shot a shimmer of fire from beneath her dark -lashes. - -“Dutch Gus! That man? He followed me to Holland! Now you know! He -queered my mission for the Yard!” - -“Queered it?” - -Saidee Isaacs paced the floor of the room. Her eyes shone tawny and -fire-laden as she came up to Fay and grasped his shoulder. - -“Promise me you will get him!” - -“Sure! Where is he?” - -“In London, somewhere. He’s in with a mob of Germans and Austrians who -are after the dye cipher. They found out where I was going—why I was -going to Holland. They didn’t have the nerve to attempt the safe, -Chester. They didn’t! They waited until I tried—and failed. They stole -my luggage coming back. They kidnapped my French maid. They did -everything. They may do more!” Saidee Isaacs reached swiftly and -snatched up the revolver. - -“Take this, Chester! You may need it!” - -“Go easy,” said Fay as he felt the revolver slipping into his pocket. -“Go easy, Saidee. You better keep it here. Dutch Gus was trying to prowl -the house when I got through the hedge. It was him on the electric -door-mat. I didn’t—” - -“Are you sure?” Her voice lowered and gained in timbre. “Are you sure, -Chester?” - -“I saw him trying to pick the front-door lock. He heard me coming or got -a signal. He dashed for the back of the house and the garage. He went -through the greenhouse, by the sound he made. Always clumsy!” - -“That was him!” She reached and lifted the revolver. She cocked it and -lowered her right hand. “I’ll keep it,” she said determinedly. “You -switch out the light and leave now. If he comes, I’ll empty all five -cartridges into him. I’d do it gladly!” - -Fay started toward the switch on the wall. He glanced at the long -windows. One was up where he had left a possible escape. The light of a -London morning showed through this opening. - -He snapped off the switch. The two stood in the center of the room as he -stepped back to her side. He felt her presence in deep breathing. A -softness came over him. It was five years since he had talked to a -woman. - -“Saidee,” he said. “Dutch Gus won’t bother you now. It’s daybreak. You -know him! He never works in the light!” - -“But tonight I may—” - -“Tonight I leave for Holland—or elsewhere. What do you say we chuck the -job for the Yard and take up the old trail? There’s Havre and the other -ports where American gold flows. There’s Monte Carlo, still doing -business. The world is torn wide open. We can clean up a million.” - -“And get caught!” - -“No! I’ve the greyhound and my old nerve. We can go toward the north and -west and double back by way of Stavanger, Norway. We can work the boats. -The commercial war is on! What will the cipher do for us? The Yard will -thank me if I get it, and perhaps remit that five years I owe to -Dartmoor. That’s all I’ve got to look forward to.” - -“Isn’t it enough, Chester?” - -“No!” - -“But then you’ll be clean! You can come to me with open hands, and I’ll -be here. Crime has had its day!” - -Fay moved toward the window. “Good-by,” he said, lifting up the sash and -peering out. “Good-by, Saidee,” he added as he glanced back in the -half-gloom. - -“Where are you going?” - -“Somewhere to think it over.” - -She glided over the rug and reached for his arm. Her face pressed close -to his. He felt her hot breath. Her eyes burned a message into his own. - -“You’re going to square it?” she whispered tensely. - -“I’ll think it over.” - -“You’re going to square it?” she repeated as her fingers clutched -tighter about his sleeve. - -“Yes,” he said hesitatingly. - -“Promise me, Chester.” - -“I promise.” - -“And you’ll meet those people at London Bridge Station tonight?” - -“MacKeenon?” - -“Yes.” - -“I’ll keep the meet.” - -“You have your cap and the diagram and the greyhound—the little silver -insignia that keeps a man from harm?” - -“I have them, Saidee!” - -“Then go, quickly!” she said, leaning down. “Go and get the cipher-key. -It means so much to you—and the world!” - -“Adieu!” he breathed as he thrust his legs through the window’s opening -and touched the ground with his toes. - -“Au revoir, pal,” she flashed with her old fire. “Go now and get ready -for the game! Good-by, Chester Fay! Good-by!” - -He heard the sash softly close as he turned away from the house. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -EDGED TOOLS - - -The grip of a London dawn was in the air as Fay rounded the hedge, -within the foliage of the house next door to Saidee Isaacs’. He found -his tweed overcoat, into the pockets of which he crammed his gloves. - -He went out then into the silent lane and struck toward the east with -long swinging strides which carried him past constables, early morning -workers and the heavy lorries which were streaming Londonward. - -His eyes were sanguine and held high. His elbows bent at his sides. The -absence of sleep from the moment he had been awakened by the turnkey at -Dartmoor was unnoticed. He was free! The world was wide! And there was a -woman in it for him! - -He thought of Saidee Isaacs as he hurried along. She had come up out of -the underworld. She had prospered and gained in strength and beauty. -More than these two things, she represented the entire sex to him. He -knew that the five years of prison life had glorified women and lowered -men in his estimation. - -The mystery of her position, her close touch with the Yard, her -willingness to send him on the mission to Holland, which was bound to -prove dangerous, caused him concern as he reached Hyde Park Corner and -passed the iron-grilled fence of Apsley House. - -The City roared a warning. The rattle of busses and cabs over the -pavements clashed with his thoughts. It was all new and terrifying to -one who had never known fear. He felt, instinctively, that he was being -followed. He fled eastward without glancing behind him. He reached the -entrance to Berkeley Street and turned northward. - -The two emotions struggled with his soul. Five years of silence and -solitude had left their mark. The constant eyes of the guards in the -prison still were there. He felt them in the center of his brain. They -haunted, despite his attempt to dismiss their presence. His early -buoyancy died. - -He was passing through the experience that every released prisoner -knows. He was fagged from lack of sleep. The excitement of the game to -come had worn off. There remained only weariness and dejection. - -A park, hedged about with plane trees and towered over by neat -boxed-houses, brought him to the realization of his locality. North, lay -Brooke Street and Oxford. A mews was at his right, between two mansions. -He took this narrow passage, passed hostlers grooming horses, and -emerged upon a street which would lead him to Soho Square and Burlington -Arcade. - -He came, with the same swift glide, to a coffee house under the sign of -a brown cup. There he wheeled and flashed a defiant glance back and over -the street. He searched each face that passed him. He swept the throng. -No one of all of them was familiar. He was not being followed. The -thought had been the distillate of a tired brain. - -Braced on two cups of black coffee, and quieted by the dragging fumes of -a cigarette, he went on into the city and was swallowed up by the three -who toiled and cheated and gamed out the day. - -The alchemy of sleep—in a Soho hotel noted for its cleanliness—removed -the last vestige of weariness from his mind. He glanced at his watch as -he called for cold water and plenty of it. He bathed and dressed -hurriedly, then took stock of his possessions. - -There were the cuff-links and the pin and the cigarette-case which -MacKeenon had brought to Dartmoor. There were the tweed coat, the little -silver greyhound, and the bank notes and gold. More than these was -Saidee’s diagram of the embassy. He studied this before opening his -door. - -The plan flashed over his brain. He memorized the details like a -draughtsman reading a white-print. He closed his eyes and repeated each -item. Then, and naturally, he struck a match on his heel, held out the -blazing paper and dropped its ashes along the narrow hallway where they -would never be noticed. - -Keen-brained from the sleep, and with eight hours ahead of him, he -plunged into the opening meshes of the game. There was much to do in -that short time. A plan had already mapped itself out. It would not do -to go to Holland without every necessary tool for the operation of -opening the strong-box. These, he knew, were to be found at a certain -shop on Ludgate Street. - -He strolled north and east through familiar lanes. He stopped now and -then, and glanced at the windows. His actions, though natural, had one -purpose. The Yard had let him go free. And yet, he knew, there were -serious-faced young men about who were waiting for him. It was not in -the cards that Sir Richard and MacKeenon would remain passive. Every -inspector from that dingy house near the Embankment had received orders -to watch out for any overt act on the part of Chester Fay, just out and -dangerous. - -The many faces of the crowd flowed before him like a stream. He -registered each one, but found none upon which he could fasten his -suspicion. The Yard and Sir Richard would be more than keen to know how -the great safe in Hatton Gardens had been opened. They had declared at -the time that it was by far the best piece of cracksman’s work ever done -in the city. - -Fay had the pride of his profession. Secrecy was the one thing which had -been ground into him. He moved off from the windows and plunged into the -throng of drab clerks and shoppers. He twisted and turned and retraced -his steps. He dropped into the Tube and came out again. Satisfied, then, -that there was no shadow behind him, he turned into Ludgate Street and -sought for the shop. - -It had been over five years since his last visit. The sales people -surely had forgotten him. He glanced up at the familiar sign and -entered. He made his way along aisles of polished cases and came to a -protection ledge behind which was an array of medical instruments laid -out for inspection. - -The salesman who stepped out of the gloom with an encouraging smile was -the same who had been there five years and more before. Fay realized -this fact with quick intuition. He watched the man’s face for some sign -of recognition. There was none. - -“My eldest brother,” he said with a winning smile, “has sent me to you. -He’s stationed in Mesopotamia. Rather far from here! He cawn’t come -himself, y’know. I’m a bit doubtful if you remember the Sir Roderick -Findlayson who went with the expedition. He practiced up St. John’s -Woods way.” - -The salesman rested the tips of his fingers on the polished case and -puzzled his memory. - -“Awkward of me, but I just can’t now. Is there anything I can do to help -you out?” he asked. - -Fay was on rather thin ice, and he knew it. The instruments he wished -had queer names among the medical profession. It was possible the -salesman was not a surgeon. - -“Yes!” he blurted. “You can help me out. My brother—Sir Roderick -Findlayson—wrote for me to send him certain things. Unfortunately I lost -the letter. But I remember about what he wanted.” - -The salesman glanced at the case beneath the array of instruments. “We -have the largest supply in London,” he said. “Could you pick what you -want from this assortment?” - -“Well, there was a satch—, a doctor’s bag, for one thing. Something nice -in black alligator. Say a three-pound bag. Would it be about this long?” - -Fay spread his hands to show two feet in length. - -“We have that size in genuine alligator for three and ten.” - -“Nicely!” said Fay. “I take one. Now,” he added, “I may as well pick out -the instruments for my brother. You can get the bag later and put them -in it.” - -The salesman opened the case and started lifting up trays filled with -highly polished instruments. Fay set aside a tempered artery-forceps -which would also answer to turn a key in a lock. It was known in the -underworld as an “insider.” - -“My brother,” he said lightly, “will be pleased with this. Now what is -that big instrument?” - -“That is used in obstetrics.” - -“Just what he wanted. Put that with the forceps.” Fay shaded his face -and smiled. The obstetric instrument when taken apart would make a -high-grade jimmy. - -He leaned down and indicated a tray. “Three of those,” he said, pointing -to bone saws which could be employed equally as well against wood or -iron. - -The salesman polished these with a piece of cheesecloth and laid them on -top of the obstetric instrument. - -“I think that’s all at this counter,” said Fay, eyeing the collection. -“The next will be rubber gloves and collodium. You see my brother has -many infectious cases.” - -The salesman opened the back of a near-by case and brought out samples -of gloves. Fay inspected them as the clerk went for the collodium, which -was a sovereign cure for finger-prints. - -Fay’s next purchase seemed an afterthought. Without it he would have -been an amateur. It was a very high-grade stethoscope, such as army -doctors and surgeons use to determine the right ventricle’s action or -the little flaws and flutters of the human heart. It had been made by -one of the greatest houses in London. The clerk insisted that it was -powerful enough to hear a fly walk ten feet away. - -Fay arched his brows at this statement. - -“How about the chest?” he asked. - -“Perfect, sir. All one has to do is to press it to the left breast and -place on the ear-pieces. The instrument registers every valve motion and -defect.” - -“Your price?” - -“Eight pound, ten—the same price we charged the British Royal Flying -Corps. They were used extensively in the examination of the flying men.” - -Fay had another purpose for the stethoscope. It worked equally as well -upon the door of a strong-box just over the combination dial. This is -the nearest spot to the padded slots into which certain tumblers drop -with a tap which would sound like a bolt falling by use of a sensitive -micro-phone diaphragm. - -“I’ll take it!” he snapped. “That completes my purchases. Now, let me -see the bag.” - -The bag proved all that the salesman claimed for it. Fay fondled each -instrument, laid them in position, and turned the key in a little -nickle-plated lock. - -He paid his score and was out in the street, pressing his way like a -doctor on a hurried call. He caught his reflection in a window. It was -of a British surgeon, in cap and long tweed coat, carrying the little -insignia of the office. He expected momentarily to be grasped by the arm -and led to a street accident. - -The matter of the instruments had been carefully thought out. There -remained a second purchase equally as important. Fay was doubtful of the -propriety of purchasing a heavy-caliber revolver in the open shops. - -He turned into Cheapside and sauntered along. An ancient armorer’s sign -caught his darting glance. He crossed the pavement and stared into the -window. A half-circle of British regulation revolvers lay in the center -of other hardware. Also, there was a blue-steel American automatic with -a business-like muzzle. - -Fay smiled at this as if greeting an old friend. Mike the Bike and Big -Scar, of western memory, always carried a .44 automatic. They called -them “maggy-guns” or “smoke wagons.” - -He went inside the shop and explained to the proprietor that he was en -route to Mesopotamia. “I’ll take that American revolver,” he said. -“That, and one hundred cartridges. Never can tell what the Turks are apt -to do.” - -Emerging from the armorer’s, with the automatic clinking against the -tools in the bag, he glanced at the time. It was three o’clock. Fog was -drifting across the dome of St. Paul’s. He had five hours before meeting -MacKeenon! - -Swirled now with the first grip of the game, he decided to visit one or -two of his old haunts. No one would be likely to know him in the guise -of a British surgeon. - -He chose to first drop in at the Monica, and from there make his way to -“Jimmy’s” or the St. James Hotel, which at one time was a meeting place -for international celebrities and flash denizens of the underworld. - -The long bar at the Monica was strangely free from patrons. Fay ordered -Rhine wine and seltzer, which was equivalent to a soft drink. - -The bar-maid turned away as he spun a shilling over the bar. Fay, on the -alert, and with the doctor’s bag between his feet, caught a glance -exchanged between the girl and a lone figure at the end of the bar. - -He sipped the drink and searched his brain for an answer to the signal -which he had detected. It came to him with sudden flash. The man was -from the Yard. The girl had recognized an old acquaintance in the -plaid-capped visitor. - -Fay acted with the quick wit of the professional. He glided along the -bar and held out his hand. The smile he bestowed upon the inspector -broke down a staid Scotch reserve. - -“Well, have you found him yet?” he asked cautiously. - -The man from Scotland Yard winced. - -“I mean Dutch Gus,” whispered Fay. - -“No!” The answer was solemn and from the heart. - -“And it’s been five years?” - -“Six and a piece.” - -“You’re waiting for him to come in here?” - -“Here or the other places. Can you help me out, Edward?” - -Fay went back and lifted his bag. He passed close to the inspector, on -his way to the doorway. - -“I never peach,” he said through tight lips. “But, if I ever change my -mind, that’s the man I’ll squeal on first. Good-by, MacPhee.” - -Fay burst through to the street and the drifting fog. He had acted on -the spur of the moment in speaking to the inspector. The long watch at -the Monica bar was a sample of the work of Scotland Yard. It had once -been a favorite rendezvous of Dutch Gus and his mob. The watch was still -being kept for the German crook who had learned safe-breaking in the -States during the palmy days of the Chicago Drainage Canal. He had -transgressed once too often, in the estimation of Sir Richard Colstrom. - -“And they’ll lag him,” said Fay, turning toward the south. “MacPhee -never lost a man.” - -He became thoughtful as he reached Blackfriars Bridge and crossed the -Thames to the Surrey side. He still had three hours before meeting -MacKeenon at London Bridge Station. He had forgotten his intended visit -to “Jimmy’s.” The presence of the inspector on watch at the Monica bar -was food for thought. There seemed no way of escaping the nipper grip of -the Yard. - -MacKeenon, Sir Richard, MacPhee, Saidee Isaacs, the cipher and the evil -visage of Dutch Gus appeared in the fog as Fay leaned over the Albert -Embankment and stared toward the curtain which blotted out London. -Fingers seemed to reach and clutch for him. Coils were thrown. There was -the south, and Brighton and the Cape boats, for a get-away. The bag with -its gun and surgical instruments could be tossed in the Thames. No man -could catch him, if he chose to exercise caution. The world was wide, -and a new life in another country could be started without suspicion. - -He felt in a reflective mood. Belligerency would follow this mood as -certain as the dawn would rise on foggy London. He recalled the ancient -vows of getting square with the police of the world. The five years of -cell life—of waiting and watching—had not shaken him from his purpose to -gain a little place in the sun, and there bask with the smiles of those -he cared for and understood. - -The cipher mission had not gripped him in the manner it should. He did -not see the great commercial war which was settling upon a torn world. -The factories of London, Manchester, Leeds and the Scotch districts -might be pouring their smoke into the English air in an attempt to stem -the tide of imports from over the North Sea. They were building the last -battlements of a people who would be free. He did not care! Had not -England penned him for five long years in a living hell? Was that -punishment to be forgotten lightly? Was it a reason for falling in with -the plans of Sir Richard and the hounds of the Yard? - -He smiled bitterly. He wanted freedom of action. He had the wherewithal -to gain this desire. The money in his pocket, the open road to the south -through Surrey, and a change of costume would effect an escape. There -was no way to prove that the Yard would not send him back to Dartmoor if -he failed in the Holland mission. - -He turned away from the stone rail and stared through the gloom to where -arc lights were stretched in an unending row. They shone blurred and -torch-like in the murky air. Beneath them, pedestrians and lorries -moved, like a procession of sad mourners. It was the tide of London folk -pouring home at the day’s end. - -Tapping his heel against the black bag at his feet, he saw from the -corner of his right eye the arched bridges which spanned the Thames. -They, also, were thronged with a dark mass of outpouring humanity. - -He seemed alone. He was in the backwater of strife and bustle. An open -space was between his position at the rail and the nearest sidewalk. -This space was shimmered over with damp mist. Across it, flashing -eastward, there passed a smart, black motor car, with a driver bent at -the wheel and a single figure in the tonneau. - -Fay heard, as distinctly as if the voice had been at his side, a call -and a warning. It rang in his ears after the car had vanished in the -shadowy street on his left hand. He repeated the words: “Look out, -Chester!” - -“Now, who in the devil was that?” he asked himself, standing erect and -glancing after the car like a thoroughbred who had scented danger. - -The mystery of anyone in London knowing his name or figure, gripped with -strength. He wondered if the voice that struck across the night had been -a guilty tug at his own brain. It could hardly have been real. He -recalled that the car was smaller and of less horse-power than the one -which had brought him up from Dartmoor. It was not the same motor. Nor -had there been “H.M.S.” plates on its trunk rack. - -The roar of the city confused him as he waited. It was possible that he -had but reflected his own thoughts when he heard the warning. He -dismissed the matter and started to turn toward the river. His chin had -described half a circle when there flashed across his vision the true -warning of coming danger. It had taken him many years of training to act -as he did. He ducked, stepped aside and sprang out and away from the -stone rail. - -A hurtling form, bunched and aggressive, crashed past him and rebounded -from the stone. A bitter oath cracked the night. A man straightened and -jabbed with a long dagger. Fay backed and held his hand in a warding -position. It was Dutch Gus who faced him. The German crook had missed -his prey by the scant margin of an eye flash. - -Fay acted with the lightning dart of a professional wrestler. He knew -the mettle of the man he faced. Dutch Gus was over-burly. He lacked the -fine points of the thoroughbred. He held the knife like a bayonet—before -him, with no chance to recover if he missed the stroke. - -The jab missed by narrow inches. The crook stumbled from the force of -his wasted blow. Fay twisted his head, stooped down, grasped the German -about the hips, and flipped him over his shoulder. Dutch Gus crashed -against the stone rail and hung there. - -Fay reached and swiftly opened his little black bag. From this he drew -the revolver and held it against the German crook’s head. He cocked the -trigger. He waited. He thrust the man further outward. A coward’s cry -sounded as Fay pressed Dutch Gus over the rail and down toward the murky -flood of the Thames. - -A splash was followed by silence. The ripples widened and merged with -the pall that hung over the river. Out of this murk there rose an arm, -and then the blond head of Dutch Gus. He treaded water and then sank. - -“Curse you!” said Fay, clasping the weapon and waiting for a sight. -“Curse you, Dutch Gus! I wonder if that’s your end?” - -Fay turned, backed against the rail, and searched the gloom on the -Surrey side. He waited grimly for other evidences of the ambush. He saw -none, although it was hardly possible that the German had acted alone. - -It came to him, as he uncocked the automatic, that in some unknown -manner the German had gotten wind of the project to Holland. It flashed -through his brain that, after all, there was a reasonable answer to the -attempt on his life. Dutch Gus had followed Saidee Isaacs. It was no -coincidence then, that she had called from the tonneau of the black car -and her trailers had discovered his presence. The thing worked out. He -pocketed the automatic, picked up his bag, glanced at the river, then -started toward London Bridge Station. It was seven o’clock. - -As he moved swiftly, his eyes searched the throng across the pavement. -He wondered if a shadow would be there. He was dealing with not only the -Yard, which was too solicitous for his welfare, but also with a -determined clique that had already attempted to obtain the key to the -cipher. Dutch Gus had searched for Saidee Isaacs and had found her house -in Richmond Hill. The German crook, or one of his gang, had held the -trail—even to London Bridge Station. Fay felt gripped in the skeins of -an enterprise which might have almost any conclusion. - -He was not surprised to see the tail-light and then the polished tonneau -of the little, black motor where it stood before the station. He crossed -the street and stared at the driver. He went on and into the train shed. - -A youthful-appearing figure in a long tan coat and green hat passed him, -stooped, fingered the top button of a fawn-colored spat and said -tersely: - -“Carry high, Chester. There’s your man over by the booking office. Look -out for Dutch Gus and remember your promise.” - -Fay set down his black bag, grasped the lapels of his tweed coat and -coughed to hide his astonishment. - -The figure in the tan coat was Saidee Isaacs. She finished with the -spat, straightened, twinkled over the floor and darted out toward the -motor car. - -MacKeenon worked through the waiting passengers and touched Fay on the -arm. - -“This way, mon,” he said. “Ye are punctual.” - -Fay was still staring at the doorway through which Saidee Isaacs had -vanished. He turned and picked up the bag. He glanced at the inspector’s -long face. Upon it was written a sly satisfaction that one sees on old -dogs that have cornered their quarry. - -“The siller greyhound?” said MacKeenon dryly as Fay followed him out to -the waiting boat train. - -“It’s in my pocket.” - -“Put it on, mon. It’ll carry ye far.” - -Fay set down the bag, reached in his right trousers pocket and brought -forth the insignia of the King’s couriers. He pinned it in place upon -his left lapel and covered it with his overcoat. - -The station-master approached the inspector and indicated that the train -was about to pull out. - -MacKeenon held up two fingers and smiled. The station-master nodded at -the secret signal. Fay felt clutched in the swing of events. He watched -the Scotch detective anxiously. - -“Weil, mon,” said MacKeenon, “ye’re off. Here’s your ticket for the boat -to—where ye’re going. Here’s twa envelopes. Guard them well. There’s -money in one—there’s Sir Richard’s instructions in th’ other.” - -Fay reached, took the envelopes and the ticket, and crammed them in his -inner coat pocket. - -“How about getting through at Dover?” he asked. - -“Shew th’ siller greyhound, lad. They will ask ye no questions at all. -Many’s the time A’ve done it.” - -Fay glanced at the train. The semaphore ahead was set for “go.” The -steam plumed from the engine and merged with the fog at the end of the -shed. - -A bell rang as he thrust a cold finger out to MacKeenon, clutched the -little black bag and sprang for the running-board of a first-class -compartment. The train started, stopped, then lunged on through the -clammy shed. Fay opened a door, tossed in his bag and stumbled aboard. -He overlooked one trifle. - -MacKeenon had drawn a white handkerchief from his coat pocket—where it -was most conveniently handy—and had shown all the evidences of a man -doubled up with Spanish influenza. - -A little Scot—with a bundle and a hacking cough—passed the inspector and -clutched wildly for a handrail on the car behind the first-class one. He -hung there by grim strength, and finally succeeded in getting inside a -compartment as the train roared out of the station shed and started to -tunnel the murky night. - -The inspector’s smile was that of a sly gray fox as he turned and -hurried from the station. He crossed the bridge on a swift run, barked a -surly order to the waiting driver of a two-wheeler, and settled back as -the whip cracked smartly over the haunches of a perfectly good horse of -the better order. - -The driver knew his book. He drove northward and deposited MacKeenon at -Liverpool Street Station, where a train was waiting by which a number of -British North Sea ports could be reached. - -Although he had overlooked it, Fay had company going to a certain -neutral country, and company coming by a roundabout route. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -PASSENGERS FOR HOLLAND - - -The channel boat Flushing was waiting the boat train that left London -Bridge Station at eight P.M. The grizzled skipper leaned from the bridge -and watched the queue of travelers wind slowly along the quay, disappear -into a little house and emerge somewhat ruffled in feelings. - -A few of these travelers were turned back. One, at least, was bundled -into a closed van, which climbed the hill and was swallowed by the night -mist. This van bore the magic legend “H.M.S.” on its barred sides. - -Fay had some misgivings concerning the inspection he expected at the -small house on the quay. He had not yet learned the value of the little -silver greyhound which he wore in his left lapel. The protesting -commercial traveler, who had shared the first-class compartment on the -train coming down, had some difficulty in convincing three sage-faced -men in the small house that he was merely bound to Holland in the -interests of a Brixton firm that manufactured electrical goods. - -The traveler was passed finally. He went through the door and hurried up -the gangplank to the waiting Flushing. The three serious men turned and -glanced at Fay, who stood with the corner of his coat turned down and -the silver greyhound showing slightly. - -Each inspector stared keenly, first at Fay and then at the black bag he -carried. Each lifted a hand and covered a chin. Each bowed as the hands -dropped and motioned toward the door through which the electrical -salesman had fled precipitately. - -“A King’s courier!” Fay heard one say. “I wonder who’ll be next.” - -The next to enter the dingy house on the quay was the Scot who had -sprung aboard the boat train after being signaled by MacKeenon. He was -passed after he had opened his overcoat, his coat, and had thrust a -wrinkled thumb under a suspender strap, pinned upon which was a gold -insignia that was graven with two letters, “M.P.” - -“Gold follows silver, tonight,” said one of the inspectors. “There is -something going to happen in Holland.” - -The boat cast off from the quay and, clearing the buoys, struck through -the murk on the long leg to the Continent. A winding shroud came down -the sea and blotted out every light. A moaning lifted from the waves. -Above this moaning sounded the steady clanking of the Clyde-built -engines which were of four-expansions and balanced. - -Knot by knot, league over league, the fast boat cut through the night. -The grizzled skipper placed his trust in providence and held his North -Sea course, edging as the hours went on toward the Lowland Country. - -Fay had secured a mid-ship cabin, locked the door behind the black bag, -and emerged to the rail which was lined with passengers suffering from -choppy seas and lunging gyrations calculated to upset the staunchest -stomach. - -He fished in his vest pocket, drew forth a black cigar which the -electrical salesman had given to him on the train, and lighted it by a -scratch of a match on the sole of his shoe. - -It glowed, and cast his face in a ruddy prominence. A little old man, -with a bundle, shrank against a ventilator and tried to merge with its -shadow. Fay noticed this motion but saw no relation between it and his -mission. - -A touch on his arm denoted the commercial traveler who had been -searching the ship for a companion. - -“Muddy night,” he said, glancing at his own cigar. “Beastly wet for my -samples, which I hope are below.” - -Fay nodded. He drew down his cap, removed the cigar from his mouth, -flecked off the gray ash, and studied the glowing end. - -“Holland,” he asked, “is over there?” The cigar pointed like a pistol -toward the starboard bow. It swung a point and steadied. It recoiled -back into Fay’s mouth. - -“Over there, yes,” said the commercial traveler. “We’ll dock at sun-up, -if there is going to be a sun on this murky morning.” - -Fay glanced at the man. A question revolved and took form as he waited -for the boat to resume an even keel. “This new war?” he asked, “this -commercial thing which has come up? They say it’s going to be a whale of -a task, for England.” - -The salesman, whose samples consisted of a line of motors and rheostats, -had been led straight upon his pet hobby. He was the forerunner of the -horde who were to bring about the final triumph of the Allies over the -Mittel nations. His companions swarmed in Mesopotamia, in Palestine, in -Siberia, in the Balkans, and in the old markets of Holland and the North -Countries. - -He started upon a well-memorized line of sales talk, which, to Fay, was -enlightening but hardly to the point he was after. - -“A moment,” Fay said. “It has just come to me, sir, that I heard a chap -in the West End say something about the dye industry. Is it so fearfully -important? Has Germany the monopoly? I rather thought they were making -the stuff in England and the States.” - -“Cost too much!” declared the commercial traveler. “You see, an old dog -still has his tricks. There’s danger that the old dog, and I mean -Germany, will come into her own again in the dye industry. She had the -monopoly once, and she is liable to get it again.” - -Fay studied the cold end of his cigar. He waited for the man to warm to -the subject. - -The commercial traveler drew his cravenette coat-collar up to his eyes -and pointed astern and over the rocking taffrail of the Channel boat. - -“The Island, there,” he said in the voice of pounds, shillings and -pence, “is recovering from one struggle and plunging into another. The -cheap labor of Germany and Russia must have an outlet. This outlet, in -dye-stuffs particularly, is threatening to flood the market. You say -that the tariff protects England and the States. I say that the tariff -does not! There are the foreign markets, open to Germany, without which -no industry can flourish. What of South America and Africa and the -velvet of the trade? Open to the Germans as well as to us!” - -Fay watched the man’s face as he asked quickly: - -“This dye monopoly! Is it because of secret formulae which England has -not been able to work out?” - -“The nail on the head! The Germans have had five thousand chemists -working on coal tar products for twenty years. They redoubled their -efforts over the years of the war. They are ready to flood the dye -markets and put out of business every dye maker in the world, save -German. You see what that means.” - -Fay turned and stared aft. “So the poor crawlers on that Island are face -to face with the problem of finding the secrets of the dye industry?” he -inquired. - -“Oh, if they had all the formulae they could bankrupt the German game! I -heard that secrets were brought through Switzerland. I never learned of -anything coming of them. Sort of stalemated there! I suppose the Foreign -Office was hoaxed.” - -“Most likely,” said Fay, fearing to go further in the matter. “I did -hear something to that effect. Too bad!” - -The traveler clutched the rail and waited for the boat to finish -twisting on a downward lunge which followed the general outlines of a -corkscrew. Fay glided off and forward. He stood in a shadow beneath the -damp ladder that led upward to the wheel-house and chart-room. He -grasped a stay and peered beyond the green glow which was thrown outward -from a faint starboard light. - -The wall of yellowish fog toward which they were ever steaming rested -upon long oily rollers which were crossed by smaller waves. The North -Sea gave forth a hollow sound as from some vast space. The hiss of their -swift passage was like yeast in process of fermenting. - -Clutched in the onward surge of the passage, he reviewed the words of -the commercial traveler. There was food for thought in them. The great -game to play concerned the destiny of a vast industry. Briefly, Germany -was about ready to ruin the dye enterprises of the States and England. -The matter hung on the thin thread of the cipher which Sir Richard had -shown to him in that dingy house near the Embankment. - -That, solved, would place the entire world on an equality. The little -dye works could compete with the larger. The formulae would be open to -any man. The galling monopoly, to come, would be removed. It all lay in -that safe in Holland toward which the “fast” boat was steaming. - -Fay stared at the yellow curtain and dug deep within his brain. It was -possible to double back on his trail, soon after landing, and make for -Scotland. From there he could take steamer to the States. It was also -possible to work by little-known lines through Stavanger and the -northern cities. The Yard had no call upon him save a personal appeal. - -Freedom of action had broadened his thoughts. He no longer was the -numbered thing in the stony coffin at Dartmoor. He breathed, and lived -and had some right to the good things of this life. - -Unclasping his hand from the stay, he turned and glanced along the deck. -It was lined with passengers who huddled against the rail—shapeless -masses of brown and gray and glistening waterproof. - -The commercial traveler had met with a kindred soul in the person of the -little Scot with a bundle. Their voices sounded above the roar of the -swift passage. The Scot was, in his cunning way, pumping the traveler -dry as to what he had said to Fay. - -Fay turned a shoulder to them and started forward beyond the break of -the pilot and chart house. He heard voices raised in the smoking-room. -Pressing his face to the forward midship port-hole, he wiped the mist -from the glass and peered in. - -Three men sat about a table upon which was a scattering of silver and -gold. At their elbows glasses perched. In their hands were cards. They -swung with the ship, lunged toward each other, and straightened like -dummies in a pantomime. They played their hands, and redealt. Fay -realized that a game of American stud was going on. He wiped the -port-glass and studied the three faces. - -One was cockney with a great arching nose and a loose catfish mouth. He -wore a green cravat and a horsey pin. The second player was stout and -triple chinned. He might have been a Yorkshire horseman going across for -Holland mares. The third player, whose face was almost hidden by the -back of his head, interested Fay. There was that in the poise of the man -which brought back deep-sea memories when certain cliques haunted the -smoking-rooms of five-day boats. - -This man wore a pair of smoked glasses. - -Fay watched the tide of fortune through the port-hole. It was evident -that between the striking of the ship’s bell for three A.M. and -three-thirty A.M.—six strokes and seven—the man with the glasses had -increased his pile of gold at the expense of the Yorkshire squire. - -Keen-brained and trained to note appearances, Fay realized that the man -with the glasses had some percentage upon the game. He searched his -memory for the man’s name. That head and the narrow sloping shoulders -were more than familiar. He decided to enter the smoking-room. - -Rounding the bay of the break of the pilot-house and chart-room, and -passing under the dripping staunchions of the bridge, he clasped the -handle of a sliding door and pressed firmly. - -A gust of mist and briny air drove through the welcome opening. Fay -entered and closed the door. He moved, not too swiftly, toward a lounge -where he could overlook the players, pressed a button on the cabin -furnishing, and threw open his coat with a relieved motion as he sat -down. - -An under-steward came from aft and stared about the room. Fay leaned -over a little table, whispered “hot Scotch” and rubbed his hands from -which the oakum stains had almost been effaced. - -He turned then, and stared point-blankly at the players. The man with -the glasses faced him. There was a scar on the chin. There was a firm -set to the mouth. There was that which told of a young man who had the -oldest face in the world. It was Broadway-trained and set to the wise -leer of an international swindler. - -“Um,” thought Fay, crossing his leg and intensifying his stare. “Ump!” -he added under his breath. “That’s an old friend—Ace-in-the-hole Harry. -No wonder the poor squire is being trimmed.” - -Fay shot a final glance and turned toward the under-steward, who held -the Scotch on a silver tray. - -Taking the drink, he passed over a shilling and a sixpence, set the -glass down, and started making tiny circles on the table with his finger -nail. - -“Last time I saw him,” he reflected, “was at ‘Jimmy’s.’ Time before -that, was in Cairo—at Shepherd’s. And the time before Shepherd’s was on -a Cape boat—the Kenilworth Castle—where he was trimming gulls by the -ancient and honorable game of dealing seconds.” - -Fay divined with professional intuition that the fish-mouthed cockney -was Harry’s partner, although their voices were raised in angry -recriminations. - -He sipped at the Scotch, then rose and watched the game from a leaning -position at the end of the lounge. The sharper dealt without apparent -manipulation. His hands spread over the card, lifted a corner, then -reached for the deck as the Yorkshire squire tossed a sovereign upon the -table. - -Fay watched the deal. The light was glaring. The eyes behind the smoked -glasses flashed, then centered on the gold piece. The game went on with -more gold entering the pot. The show-down, where the sharper won, -revealed the fact that the Yorkshire squire had a queen in the hole and -the dealer had a king. It was that close! - -Fay felt inclined to whistle. He was interested enough to watch other -deals which all seemed set and regular. Ace-in-the-hole Harry had solved -mind-reading, concluded the cracksman, as he sat down on the lounge and -revolved the problem in his mind. - -The game closed suddenly. The Yorkshire squire rose, glared at the two -players, then stamped out through the door and went aft with a string of -oaths falling behind him, like chips from a whittler. - -“May gol blyme!” said the cockney. “’E’s a rum cove. We cawn’t always -win, y’know.” - -Harry with the long pseudonym removed his smoked glasses and stared at -Fay. - -“A bit o’ deck would help us out,” he said coldly. “I’m wondering if we -make the connecting boat at Stavanger?” - -Fay glanced at his hot Scotch and lifted it as the two men strode toward -the door, through which they passed to the deck. - -He allowed the thin shadow of a smile to cross his lips. He turned and -caught a reflection of himself in a long mirror. He studied this object -with concern. The flight of time, since last he had seen the -cardsharper, had wrought many changes in his appearance. He was -keener-faced and firmer of mouth. The silver-gray hair at his temples -was unnatural and gave him a youthful appearance due to contrast. - -“Stavanger,” he said upending the glass and feeling the warmth of the -liquor. “I’ll remember that. Few Greeks go to that port. I wonder why -he’s going there?” - -“Greeks,” in the argot of the underworld, were cardsharpers and -sure-thing manipulators. Fay despised their profession. He had an -abiding belief that a man had not lost all honor who would take a -strong-box or a long chance. There had been no chance in the sharper’s -game. The meanest thief in the world, to him, was the professional -gambler. - -He rose and closed his tweed coat with a quick motion. The ship’s bell -had struck two times, spaced close together. It was five o’clock. The -Lowland Country must soon appear through the fog. - -It came to him, as he stepped to the dark deck, that the one change in -the sharper’s make-up was the smoked glasses. They were incongruous and -beetle-appearing. They struck a false note in a card game. Fay felt -dimly that there was a good reason for wearing them. He sensed a mystery -there. He revolved the matter in his mind and searched the deck for the -two. They had disappeared into a cabin. Most probably they were dividing -the wool shorn from the Yorkshire lamb. - -A bo’swain, in sou’wester and oilskins, was heaving the lead from the -starboard chains of the foremast standing-rigging. He called the fathoms -with monotonous regularity. “By the deep, four,” rolled along the ship. -A bell clanged. A jingle sounded. The screw thrashed as the helm was -ported. A stumpy man, in smug pea-jacket, came out of the pilot-house, -and grasping a funnel stay, leaned far forward. He searched the yellow -fog which drifted athwart the bow. He whipped out a pair of -twelve-diameter glasses and focused them with his right thumb. - -He turned his head, lowered the glasses and pointed toward a green buoy -which was passed close to starboard. This buoy bore the number “9” on -its side. The wheelman put up the wheel three spokes, then steadied the -ship. She groped on with careful searching until a mud spit ran beneath -the fog curtain and headed their course. - -“Up more,” said the man in the pea-jacket. “Hard up!” he snapped with -British vim. “All the way up, you!” - -The ship sheered like a frightened sow and lay broadside to the spit. -The screw thrashed. They wore around the point and started clamping down -a fog-shrouded channel which was lined with green buoys and gas flares. - -The scent of fish and lowland marshes came over the water. The clank of -a hidden windmill sounded close to port. One gaunt arm pierced through -the veil and then was gone. The way ahead opened and revealed a vista of -smacks and crude wooden schooners. The veil dropped upon a scene that -Rembrandt would have fancied. Fay turned away and started toward his -cabin. They were reaching port. The passage from Dover had been made -without accident. It had been through a sea that had been stained red by -the blood of British seamen. - -Sounds of commerce were on every hand as the Flushing bulled the air -with her Mersey-built siren. She glided over oily backwater and came to -a scant headway before the outlines of a high quay which was -half-revealed in the yellow light of lowland dawn. - -Fay opened his door, stepped into the midship-cabin and sat down on his -unused bunk. He closed his eyes and reviewed the events of the passage. -He made note of a number of things which might have bearing on the -cipher quest. The commercial traveler had rounded out the importance of -the information Scotland Yard had sent him to obtain. This man from -Brixton was a forerunner in the great commercial war which was girding -the world. He was a scout and an outpost. After him would come a horde -of others. Devastated Belgium, Northern France and depleted Holland and -Germany were open markets. They had been glutted by the Great Struggle. -They were like stores from the shelves of which all staple goods had -been swept. - -The second event of the voyage, in meeting with the deep-sea Greek, had -a different bearing on the quest. Fay realized, as he dropped his head -in his hands, that a pull had come which was strong as desire, and sweet -with freedom. Stavanger, where the sharper was going with his cockney -foil, was a port out of which many ships sailed and steamed. From -Stavanger it would be possible to shake the Yard and the runners of New -Victoria Street. Liberty in every action was possible if he would hasten -to the northern port before the Yard was aware of his dereliction. And -liberty was a tempting morsel to hold before a prisoner on parole. - -Fay lifted his eyes and stared at the sheathing of his narrow cabin. The -ship had reached the quay. The passengers were crowded forward where -they expected the gangway to be thrust aboard. Their voices, -cosmopolitan mingled, broke through the silence of the mid-ship -stateroom. - -A grating sounded along the boat’s planks. A shudder passed from fore to -aft. The siren blared three short signals. A call came across the water. -Light, from a mist-hidden sun, illumined the port-hole over Fay’s bunk. -He glanced at this evidence of day. - -Bending suddenly, he reached and lifted the little black bag. The tools -clinked slightly. He inserted a key and glanced at them. They were such -as any doctor of surgery might have carried. There was not a particle of -incriminating evidence in the bag. Fay rose, lifted a towel from a rack, -glanced at its corners to assure himself that there was no marking to -show from whence it came, then swiftly bound and wrapped the instruments -so that they gave forth no sound as he dropped the bag to the -stateroom’s deck. - -He searched through his pockets. The money in his right-hand pocket, the -cigarette case, the automatic revolver on his hip, all were inspected. -Replacing these, he drew out the two envelopes MacKeenon had passed to -him at London Bridge Station. - -The first contained one hundred pounds in Bank of England notes. These -were folded lengthwise. They were crinkling new and sweet to the touch. -He pocketed them and tore the edge of the second envelope. Its contents -caused him to furrow his brow. - -The note it contained was from Sir Richard. It read: - - “S. I. informs me, via phone, that D. G. tailed you from her house, - going south. She saw him pass from upper window. Govern yourself - accordingly. Get wise, F., and don’t overlook the trifles. - - Your Masked Friend.” - -Fay read the note twice before he laid it in the wash-bowl and touched a -match to its edge. He breathed tensely as he waited for the smoke to -clear from the stateroom. It was all too evident that Sir Richard and -the girl were hand in glove in the cipher matter. - -There was that in the note which spoke for itself. Fay felt that it had -been written more for the effect it would have on his loyalty than for -the information it contained. Besides, after all, Dutch Gus had given up -tailing him and had waited until Saidee left the house in her black -motor. - -Fay lifted his cap, brushed back his hair, turned on the water and -washed the ashes of the note down through the drain, then seized the -black bag and hurried through the stateroom door. His trail was a clean -one. There was no evidence of his intentions, one way or the other, upon -the North Sea boat. - -He worked forward between protesting lines of waiting passengers. He -reached the ladder which led up to the wheel-house and chart-room. -There, grouped against the bay of the smoking-room, he saw the -cardsharper—sans glasses and sans his wooden stare. Beyond the “Greek,” -as a man apart, stood the racy-looking cockney in a great tan coat, -trimmed with coster buttons. Their luggage was also separated. This -final touch was for the benefit of the gulls and pigeons they had -trimmed on the passage over. - -Fay swung and stared over the low housetops of the city. Smoke drifted -across the quay and wreathed the deck-staunchions. Heavy guttural voices -echoed from the pile-strewn shore. A curious crowd of Lowlanders stood -on the edge of the dock and stared toward the ship. Among them were dogs -and well-matured children. - -“All ashore!” called the skipper from a ledge before the wheel-house. -“Line this way and pass the inspectors. All bags and luggage will be -opened.” - -Fay pressed back the lapel of his tweed coat and exposed the little -silver greyhound as he stepped upon the gangplank. He felt a pressure on -his back as he worked slowly up the crowded incline. He reached the -funnel of the outlet—a roped-in bay where stood two Dutch custom -inspectors, their broad faces gleaming with good humor and badinage. -Behind them leaned a man with an old pipe. This pipe turned and dropped -its ashes as Fay pressed forward the insignia by holding out the lapel -of his coat with a steady thumb. - -The custom inspectors turned to the man with the pipe. They asked a -question in Dutch. - -The man tilted his pipe upward with a sudden twist of his wrist and said -very distinctly: - -“By all means pass him! Never mind the bag!” - -Fay stepped ashore. He turned to see who had been pressing against his -back. He overlooked the trifle! A little old Scot, with a bundle, had -already scurried behind a shed from which he peered with ferret-like -intentness. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -LURKING SHADOWS - - -A sanguine sun broke through the Holland mists as Fay strode briskly -from the docks and quays and entered the ancient city. - -He took the first street which would lead him in the direction of a -little hotel, at one time patronized by international celebrities of the -underworld. - -This hotel had fallen upon better days. The paint and woodwork about the -door were new. A smug respectability beamed from the windows and out of -the courtyard. A motor car, sans rubber tires, stood within this -courtyard. It had been made in Germany before the war. It was still -doing service for the Dutch proprietor. - -Fay stood across the narrow street, set his bag at his feet and studied -the hotel from a score of angles. He could cross the wide Dutch cobbles -and register. It was most certain that the police would have his name, -native country, and prospective business within the time it would take -to attend to such matters. - -He glanced about with the ranging eye of a tourist who would go on. The -street and two narrow mews or lanes echoed and reëchoed with the clank -of wooden sabots, the squeak of poorly oiled wagon axles, and the voices -of market people who were streaming toward the quays and the canals. - -Fay studied the situation and decided there was nothing to be gained by -waiting. He knew of no other hotel in the city. It would serve as a -lodging for the day and the night. It was clean, quiet and somewhat out -of the beaten track of those who administered the laws in that quaint -lowland capital. - -There is that in the super-cracksman which is close to the actor. Fay -played his part to perfection as he finished his stare toward the hotel, -reached down and lifted the bag and crossed the street at a brisk walk. - -He banged the door open like a British traveler who had been to the -continent before. He advanced to a tiny opening in a side wall, set down -his bag and called for the Hôtelier. - -The broad face of the Maître d’Hôtel was thrust through this opening -like a harvest moon in sight of plenty. - -“A room!” said Fay incisively. “Something for a day or two. I came on -the Flushing. I’ll never go back on that damn boat, sir! It’s an -outrage—the North Sea service!” - -The proprietor was impressed. He knew that all Englishmen swore. Some -swore more than others. He put down Fay’s name—which he gave as “Dr. -Crutcher of London”—his vocation—which was stated to be “a doctor”—and -his probable stay in Holland as “less than a fortnight.” - -Fay followed a maid up to a second floor back room which overlooked the -courtyard and the steel-tired German car. He closed the door, tried to -lock it, then moved over a chair and pressed the top rung up and under -the knob. - -He removed his coat, tossed his cap on the floor and lay back on the bed -with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand pressing against his -eyeballs. - -He had much to do and little time to do it in. He reviewed the trip to -Holland. It was a wild project, if ever there was one. The only real -thing in the entire matter was the crinkling Bank of England notes in -his pockets and the knowledge that he was free to pass the door which -led from his room. He rose swiftly, crossed the floor, and pulled away -the chair. The binding bars of Dartmoor were still about him. The -constriction of closed places got on his nerves. - -He summed the situation up as he stood behind a lace curtain and stared -at the courtyard. His keen, gray-crowned head was poised like a quick -bird as the events of the two days flashed over his brain. - -From the moment of his release he had been haunted by the thought of -shadows. They reached and groped for him despite every effort he had -made to throw them off. He knew of the wide-flung power of Scotland -Yard. It never let a man go! - -Then, for what reason, he argued, had they let him run scot-free? Had a -net already been spread into which he was bound to stumble? Or was it -the flicker of fortune’s wheel that had turned his way at last? - -He examined the lock of the little black bag, reached for his cap and -overcoat, and strode out of the room. The yielding door was so unlike -the iron horror at Dartmoor! He whistled gayly as he ran down the -ancient steps and burst out and into the glad light of day. - -The actor in him came to the fore. He thought the part he was playing. -It was no matter of studied gestures and halting steps. He was English -of the English! He strode into the town’s better part with the step of a -conqueror. He looked the British tourist to perfection. His plaid cap, -his well-fitting overcoat, his square-toed shoes were his passport. - -He modified his walk to a saunter. His eyes fixed upon nothing in -general, but they saw everything with that vividness which is given to -prisoners on parole and those who have been denied the wine of life and -living. - -The feeling still remained within him that somewhere in that -stolid-faced crowd a shadow lurked. It was the same sinister hand which -had come out with him through the guarded gates of Dartmoor. It was the -long arm of the Yard, reaching, reaching. He felt its fingers and turned -swiftly. He went on. No one of all that throng showed a familiar face. - -He retraced his steps by rounding a square and doubling back almost to -the little hotel. He searched each figure, in passing. He saw few -English in that throng. - -Spies, commercial agents of the seven governments, oversea soldiers on -furlough, interned or invalided troops—the backwash and the riffraff of -a war that was over—filled the ancient streets. - -He threw off the feeling of being shadowed, and took the shady side of a -broad avenue. It would lead him past the embassy wherein was the -strong-box and the key to the dye cipher. - -More bold, now, and decidedly English, he advanced with head thrown -back, and that keen smile upon his lips which brought answering warmth -from the passers-by. - -It was nice to be alive upon that glad day. The bright sun had doubled -its grandeur when freed from the grip of the morning fog. The long lines -of trees, the well-clipped hedges, and the rare bulbs of Holland were -out in their spring clothing. - -“Gad!” said Fay to himself. “This is living!” - -He drew out his cigarette-case, removed a cigarette, tapped it on the -palm of his hand and struck a match with a quick jerk of his heel. It -came to him, as he inhaled the rich Turkish fumes, that the action of -lighting a match on his heel was foreign to the country of Holland and -even to the English. It was a flaw in his disguise! - -“Trifles!” he said, half aloud. “That was a slip. I must be careful.” - -He went on and crossed the avenue at the square below the embassy. He -drank in its details as he passed along. He photographed the front so -that he could have made a drawing of every detail—the long windows, the -high marble steps, the flunky in purple and knee-breeches, the insignia -near the great door, the semi-basement with its iron-grilled apertures. - -A crossing above the embassy’s building drew him back over the avenue -and down through the low houses of a side street. He found a passage -that passed parallel to the brick barrier which fenced in the -ambassador’s grounds. He estimated the height of this wall as he hurried -by it. He turned the corner, and bounded the building as he glided out -into the avenue and retraced his steps toward the hotel. He now had a -plan of the project. It looked like clear sailing in the night to come. - -A back glance, as he lighted a cigarette by striking the match upon a -stone, showed a figure descending the embassy’s steps and limping in his -direction. He waited and dragged at the cigarette. The man who passed -was English. He had been through the war. - -“I say,” said Fay, hurrying after the cripple. “Would you mind putting a -chap straight? Is that the Hôtel de Ville?” - -Fay pointed his cigarette at the embassy building as the soldier turned. - -“Is it?” he repeated. “I hope I haven’t troubled you.” - -“Blyme no!” answered the Tommy. “Hit’s the royal muckers wot do a man -dirt, it his! Neutral embassy, wot? Wot satisfaction his there in that? -Says I, to myself, I’ll look up my brother ’Arry who was lost at Wipers. -Took by the Germans, ’e was! They told me to go to Switzerland, they -did. ’Ow ham I goin’ to Switzerland on three bob, six?” - -Fay fell into stride with the soldier, and walked at least five squares -with him. He twisted the conversation around from ’Arry to a general -outline of the floor plan of the embassy and the number of guards. He -left his man near the British embassy. The two sovereigns he pressed -into a protesting palm were well earned, although the cockney was -unaware of it. - -“Hope you find ’Arry,” said the cracksman, hurrying toward the hotel. - -The information he had gained coincided, in the main, with the diagram -which Saidee Isaacs had given to him. The additional details of the day -guards, and the disposition of the embassy clerks, were sufficient to -lay out the entire plan of action. - -Fay wasted no time. He reached the hotel, called for mail which he knew -he did not have, then hurried upstairs and entered his room. He emptied -the black bag of its contents, placed the surgical tools about his -pockets and under his vest so that they would not bulge, then examined -the revolver. - -It was loaded. It was a perfect weapon of its kind. He thrust it in the -side-slit of his overcoat where his hand could reach readily. He rose. -It came to him with sudden force that he had burned his bridges, save -for the little silver greyhound. It would not do to have this on in case -of capture. - -His eyes roamed the room. A cake of very thin soap attracted his -attention. Taking this, and pressing the insignia deep within the edge, -he moved to the window and examined the hiding place. An opening showed, -which he smoothed over by washing his hands and softening the soap. He -tossed the bar behind the wash-stand where it would never be noticed. - -The bag caught his eye as he stepped toward the door. He returned, -picked up a few charred sticks and coals from the fireplace and dropped -them inside the instrument case. He locked it and tested its weight. A -maid or the Maître d’Hôtel would be satisfied with the substitution -providing they did not force the lock. - -“All set,” said Fay with American accent. “When I come back to this -place, it’ll be with the key to the cipher or handcuffed. The coppers in -this burg know where everybody lives.” - -He went down the stairs and out into the street. This time he did not -glance behind as he hurried toward the center of the city and the -railroad station by which a number of trains could be taken out of the -Lowland country. - -It was his intention to ride some little distance toward the German -border, get off the train, and double back on foot so as to throw off -any possible pursuit. - -He found a map near the booking-office. The station was thronged with -Germans and commercial travelers who were expecting the final lifting of -the great embargo against the Mittel nations. England and the States -were cursed in Low Dutch. - -Fay made a note of the train time on his cuff with a tiny lead-pencil. -He had over thirty minutes to catch the first train eastward. He passed -through the station and stood on the curb whereat decrepit motor cars -and thin horses clattered up with passengers. - -Suddenly, with the intuition given to the hunted, he saw a familiar form -dodge out of his sight and behind a corner where the traffic swirled. He -acted swiftly. Crossing the street, he hurried down the sidewalk and -away from the station. - -Fay went on with eyes darting to left and right. He passed an open -doorway. In it stood two forms. They had attempted to dodge out of -sight, but were held by outpouring customers of the store where they had -taken refuge. - -Fay photographed them on his mind without turning his head in the -slightest. He glided on with swift steps. A bitter smile crossed his -lips as he sprang over the curb and darted between two vehicles. - -One of the two men was MacKeenon! There could be no doubt of this at -all. Fay had caught a side view of the Scotch inspector. His companion -was a little old man with a bundle. - -“And may your own bungling undo you!” Fay exclaimed as he turned a -corner and darted out of sight. “I’m done,” he added. “I’ll never trust -another copper.” - -He was deeply in earnest. The sight of MacKeenon had stirred every drop -of blood in his body. It was not enough that Sir Richard would send him -after the cipher-key. The oily chief of the Identification Bureau had -seen to it that the bloodhounds of the law went along in case of a -change of heart. - -Fay had changed his heart. It was steeled now against the project. He -flashed a plan over his mind in the time of seconds. He would abandon -the quest, make for the quays, take a boat for the north, and join the -two card swindlers. In this manner the Yard would be foiled, and the -cipher-key could rot in the safe. - -Sir Richard had underestimated his man. Fay had the memory of five years -in that Dartmoor hell to spur his heels. The chief had stated that he -was to go scot-free. The bitterness of this came home to him at the -memory of MacKeenon’s long keen face. The hollow eyes and sharp features -of the inspector—the gaunt, trained-to-the-last-ounce of energy and -cunning stamped there, was a whip held over the felon. - -“Au revoir,” Fay said bitterly, as he dodged and twisted and turned in -his path toward the quays. “Follow me now if you can, Mac!” - -There was no sign behind of pursuit or a shadow. Fay took every -precaution. He approached the quays and the canals by lowland paths as -the sun dipped below the western sea-mist. He leaped a causeway, went -over a thin plank, and drew this ashore after him. The way ahead was -narrow. The way behind was closed to all save a good swimmer. - -He came to a paved road beside which was a long row of tall poplars. A -windmill with crossed arms, like two combs on a pepper box, reared -toward the sea. Another showed beyond gray-stucco houses and lean barns. -The flat-green of Holland merged into a pea-soup fog which was rising. - -A rusty steamer of the smaller class lay at a quay. Drifting smoke -poured from her one squat funnel. The gangplank was down. A stream of -stolid Dutch was mounting this plank. They seemed, in the gloom, like -cattle going to slaughter. - -Fay found a boatman who was cleaning fish at the side of the canal. The -cracksman drew his coat around his thin shoulders and pointed toward the -steamer. - -“I want to go on that,” he said. - -The boatman laid down a fish-knife, tossed a fish into the bottom of the -boat, and rose with his scale-clustered hand to his cap. - -“Ein thaler,” he said. “I go with you over there for ein thaler.” - -Fay drew out four silver shillings and handed them down to the boatman. -He sprang to a thwart of the boat and waited as the fisherman got out -two clumsy oars, cast off the painter and shoved the boat from the edge -of the canal. - -“Hurry,” said Fay, muffling his face in the stern of the boat. - -The rower nodded and dipped the oars into the dark water. The boat -glided toward the ship. A voice called across the canal. Fay rose and -stared back over the course they had come. Muffled shadows moved on the -bank. A match was struck. This went out and left a flare still burning -in his eyes. He touched the boatman’s shoulder. - -“Faster,” he said. “Row faster!” - -The boat reached the end of a rotting pier. Fay stretched his arms -upward, grasped a string-piece and lifted himself to the cross planks. - -He did not glance at the boat or the boatman as he hurried ashore and -along the bank of the canal toward the quay where the ship was taking -aboard the cattle-like passengers. A horn blared the night as he reached -the gangplank. - -He was one step advanced up this plank when a rattle and the thin honk -of an auto horn caused him to turn his head over his shoulder. - -The rubberless and decrepit motor car from the hotel thrust a pair of -pale lights through the gloom. On the driver’s seat of this car crouched -a chauffeur who was staring at his steaming radiator. - -A woman, with her form hidden by a long coat and her face masked beneath -a broad-brimmed hat, sprang from the tonneau of the car, said something -to the driver in a low voice and hurried in the direction of the -gangplank. - -Fay turned his head completely, grasped the handrail of the plank, and -stared at this woman. Her figure, even under the coat, was familiar to -him. He frowned slightly, let go his grip on the rail and backed down to -the quay. - -“You?” he said almost bitterly as he reached the woman’s side. “What are -you doing here, Saidee?” - -“I came after you.” Her face lifted under her hat. Her eyes were dark -and purposeful. The tightening of her lips drew down the corners of her -mouth. - -“You came after me. Seems as if everybody’s coming after me. I’m going -to take this boat.” - -“No, you’re not! You’re going back, after—” She half turned and stared -over the quay. “You’re going back after the cipher, Chester,” she said -in a whisper. “You’re the only one who can get it. Come on with me.” Her -gloved fingers pressed lightly on the sleeve of his coat. Her grip -became firmer. “Please come,” she added hastily. “You haven’t any time -to lose. You’re not going away—for my sake, Chester.” - -He tore loose her grip with an angry jerk. “You,” he said, “are no -better than the others—MacKeenon, that hell-hound, and Sir Richard. Why -didn’t you let me take the trick alone? I didn’t need any help. Now the -job is queered—for good. I’m going to take this ship!” - -“Oh, but Chester, you’re not. Remember your promise?” - -“Promise?” - -“Yes—to Inspector MacKeenon and Sir Richard.” - -Fay stepped back a foot or more. He stared at the slight form of Saidee -Isaacs as if he would crush her. His hands raised. His fingers clutched -deep within his palms. - -“I remember,” he said evenly, “that they were the ones who made the -promises. They said ‘good by, good luck and God bless you,’ and sent me -on my way, scot-free, so I thought. Today—tonight—I saw that hell-hound -from the yard—MacKeenon! Then along you came. Does the world know that I -came here after that crib? Has it been shouted to the housetops? I’m -done!” - -Saidee Isaacs blazed back with sudden fire. Her voice raised as she -said: - -“You’re only on parole! You can’t escape them, Chester! Please do what -they want you to do. Do what I want you to do. Then everything will come -out right.” - -Fay turned his head away and stared toward the boat. The last passenger -was mounting the gangplank. The shore-lines were being cast off. A plume -of white steam issued from the pipe aft the squat funnel. - -“I’m off!” he said with final resolution. “I’ll take the old, old -trail—away from you and those hell-hounds. They can’t catch me if they -try.” - -“And me?” asked Saidee, with none of her old fire. - -“And you can tell them I was with them till they rounded on me. They -know me! A crook has got to be trusted if you want him to play square. -They’ve shadowed me from London. They’re still sniffing on my trail. But -water breaks it, and Saidee, it’s good-by!” - -“Don’t go, Chester. You’ll be sorry.” - -Her voice had taken on an open threat. He caught the note and smiled -bitterly. - -“You weren’t that way once,” he said, thrusting his hands in his pockets -and drawing his coat about his knees. “Once, you were a pal. The best -pal a fellow ever had. Now you’re hooked-up with MacKeenon and Co. -You’re working for the Yard. How did you get that house—that little -motor—those clothes? How did you get them?” - -The old fire flamed her eyes. She backed away and motioned for him to -go. Her hand dropped to her side. She waited. - -“Good-by!” he said, turning. “Tell your friends of the Yard it’s no use -looking for me. I’ll be in—” - -“Dartmoor in three days!” she exclaimed, walking toward the decrepit -motor car without glancing back. - -Fay hesitated the fractional part of a second. He was of two minds. -Saidee had hurt him with her last thrust. It was like her to say that. -It was also a dare. He took it by swinging, striding for the gangplank -and dashing up its slope as two deck hands seized the handles to draw it -aboard. - -The propeller throbbed. A hoarse blare awoke the birds on the bank of -the quay. A small group gathered and watched the ship ware out and take -the channel toward the sea. It clamped down the dark waters and rounded -a point upon which was a blue light. - -Fay climbed up the forbidden ladder leading to the pilot-house. He -strained his eyes. The motor car with its twin cones of white fire was -still on the quay. In the tonneau of this he saw Saidee Isaacs standing. -Her hands were at her sides. Her veil was lifted up and over the brim of -her hat. - -Suddenly, with a quick gesture, she drew down the veil. The car turned -clumsily and made for the dark aisles of the town. - -Rolling mist blotted out both shores of the channel. The ship passed -painted buoys from which she sheered like a frightened sow in a pen. The -way ahead was found by reversing and keeping bare steerage-way. A -projector of yellowish light stabbed from the pilot-house. This was -turned on and off as each buoy was raised. - -Windmills loomed above the low lines of the dykes. Fishing boats with -furled sails and quaint deck-houses astern swung at anchor. Once the fog -lifted sufficiently to reveal a long road running over a causeway which -stabbed like a white dagger through the night. - -Fay descended the ladder and stood in the gloom of the forward starboard -boat which was drawn aboard and lashed to the davits. He allowed his -right hand to coil over the butt of the American automatic. Its cold -chill struck through his body. He was in no mood to be thwarted by -MacKeenon or the Yard. The bitterness of a vain project distilled black -thoughts in his brain. - -He refused to allow himself to think of Saidee Isaacs. She was gone, and -forever, he thought. He steeled himself against his better judgment. He -wanted the wide places where he would be free from shadows and reaching -hands. Then, and afterwards, he could consider the entire matter. It had -been too soon since leaving Dartmoor for him to have found himself. He -knew this with the intuition of the released felon. A man’s mind was a -delicate thing. It could not adjust itself over night or during the -period of a few days. It wanted weeks and months. - -A plan took form and substance as he waited by the boat. He did not even -know the ports of call of the ship he was on. Any question toward -finding out would excite suspicion. The purser would be around for the -fare. Fay wondered, with a light laugh, what port he would name. Any one -would do as a guess and then if the ship did not touch at that port, he -could explain that a mistake had been made. A fugitive was safer without -a set plan. - -A Dutch village was passed to port. The low roofs of this settlement had -scarcely been swallowed by the mist when Fay felt the ship swing her bow -and reverse the propeller. Bells clanged in the engine-room. A stolid -head appeared through the dark opening of the pilot-house. Deep-sunken -eyes, beneath a cloth cap, stared forward and over the vessel’s bow. A -denser mass showed there. This mass took the form of another ship which -was passing in the night. - -Two blasts sounded from the siren aft the squat funnel. These were -answered as both ships hugged the banks of the canal. They glided by, -starboard to port, with a scant fathom’s distance between the rails. - -Fay leaned outboard, grasped a davit-stay and studied the faces of the -passengers on the boat. He ran his eyes down the line. He felt the -answering stares. Broad faces and keen ones were there. Flashily dressed -travelers were sandwiched between burly burgers. Children stood on the -high places of the crowded deck with their bow legs supporting grotesque -bodies. - -It came to Fay, with a pang, that these were refugees and passengers -from England. Some were returning to the invaded districts of Belgium. -Others had been sent back to claim their own. They were the last wave -receding from the war. They would land at the Lowland city he had -quitted so hastily. - -He searched anew for the name of the boat. It had undoubtedly left a -northern British or Scotch port that morning. The stern passed. Fay -leaned further outboard and squinted his eyes. He made out the name. - -Harwich of Newcastle. - -His eyes lifted to the taffrail. A lone figure stood there. A pair of -gleaming eyes flashed over the distance between the passing ships. A -heavy brow was pulled down by a muscular contraction. - -Fay closed his lips in a hard firm line. He drew himself back and into -the shadow of the boat. He peered out from this position until the ship -had merged within the pea-soup fog. - -The man at the stern had lived too long. He was Dutch Gus! - -Minutes passed with Fay in the same crouching position. He had received -a facer. There was no denying the fact that Dutch Gus was alive. That -individual was bound to the Holland port for no good reason. He had -escaped from the Thames and had come on to settle accounts. Perhaps he -was after the key to the dye cipher. - -Fay straightened himself with an effort. He sauntered around the stern -of the life-boat, drew out his cigarette-case, removed a cigarette, -lighted this with a swift scratch of a match along the rail and went aft -with his eyes searching for a deck steward. - -He found one in the doorway of a midship cabin. - -“Beastly,” he drawled. “Beastly awkward of me, wasn’t it?” he added. -“I’ve gone and left Holland without my luggage. Can you tell me where I -can get off this ship?” - -The steward pocketed the shilling Fay pressed into his reaching palm. He -pointed toward a darker mass in the fog. - -“There,” he said in heavy English. “There, in ten minutes, sir. We put -in at Swartzburg for any cargo that may be on the quay.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -ROBBERY UNDER ARMS - - -The ship had no sooner touched the dock than Fay leaped ashore and -hurried toward a yellow light which marked a half-hotel, half-tippling -place of doubtful aspect. - -He pressed the door open and glided inside the single ground-floor room. -A group of burgers and broad-hipped Dutch girls were sitting at the -tables. A Holland maid was bending over the tap to a huge cask of beer. - -She straightened, pressed back her hair and stared at Fay as if he were -a ghost. Her eyes dropped under his level scrutiny. He turned toward the -drinkers. - -“Is there a motor car anywhere about this town?” he asked. “I must have -one!” His voice was keen and demanding. - -A German deserter from Hindenburg’s shattered armies rose, set down a -stein, and threw back his head. - -“Engländer?” he asked drunkenly. “Du bist ein Engländer?” - -“Worse than that!” declared Fay. “I’m American! I want a motor car or a -fast wagon. I must go back!” Fay pointed toward the east. He dipped his -hand into his right-hand trousers pocket and brought forth a palm-full -of English shillings and sovereigns. - -“Here, Fräulein,” he said to the girl at the beer-cask. “Drinks all -around. You join me, bitte?” - -Fay’s knowledge of German was limited. He knew no Dutch at all. He -labored under the delusion that the language of the Fatherland would -serve for Holland. The presence of the German soldier had seemed to -carry this out. - -The maid’s stupid stare told him that he had not been understood. He -turned toward the German deserter. It seemed irony that he should use -such a man for the furtherance of his purpose. - -“Here, Heinrich,” he said, passing over a gold piece, “get busy! Drinks -all around and then a motor car. Ask these people if there is one in the -burg.” - -The German was not too drunk to know the color of gold. He said -something to the girl in Dutch, snatched up his stein, drained it and -hurried out through the doorway. Fay tasted the bitter beer brought to -him by the maid, lifted his eyes over the edge of the stein and strained -his ears. - -A hoarse siren blared the night. The ship was leaving the quay. The hour -was not yet ten. Fay darted swift glances over the drinkers. He studied -a picture which might have been painted by Rubens or Franz Hals. A slow -fire burned in a great open fireplace. The crude tables, the broad-faced -roisterers, the silent girls with their long pig-tails and meek eyes -held him until a sound was driven through a quarter-open window. This -sound was the exhaust from an open muffler. It had an American -suggestion in its sharp notes. - -Fay carefully avoided the nearest table, bowed to the maid as he drew -his coat about his knees, and pressed open the door. He stood under the -front thatch of the inn. He smiled with quick appreciation as the round, -moon-like discs of two headlamps burned through the fog, shot off across -the Lowland, then steadied and grew brighter. - -“A flivver!” he exclaimed. “By all that’s holy—it’s from the States.” - -A Dutch boy in an impossible make-up of leathern coat and bright, peaked -cap drove up and almost catapulted the drunken German to the road’s -cobbles as the brake went on with a protesting squeak. - -Fay lifted the German soldier from the dashboard and steadied him on his -wobbling legs, where he stood like a limp mannikin ready to topple over. - -The Dutch boy slowed the engine by putting up the throttle lever, under -the wheel. He stared blankly from Fay to the German. - -“All right,” said the cracksman as the door of the inn opened and let -out a mellow light. “I paid him. I’ll pay you, too, when you land me -over there.” Fay pointed toward the east through the night fog. - -The boy twisted the wheel, partly pressed his pedal and advanced the -throttle. The flivver spun and almost struck the German with the rear -mud-guard. Fay leaped aboard and showed the boy a shining yellow -sovereign in the hollow of his palm. - -“Drive like hell!” he said. “I’ll show you the way—along the canal.” - -The soldier shouted something as the tiny car rattled over the cobbles -and darted into the one street of the town. Fay drew his cap down over -his eyes and leaned out. He blinked as he noted the kind of tires the -auto was equipped with. They were sections of rubber hose bound with -wire and rope. They bumped and clattered. They drove a series of shivers -up his spine. - -“England’s embargo!” he groaned. - -The Dutch boy pressed the pedal through to second speed. The car rumbled -over a causeway and turned into a white road which was lined with -stem-like trees of a species Fay had never seen. He held tight to the -bouncing seat and peered through the cracked windshield. The two -searchlights rose and fell with the engine’s revolutions. One moment the -road was dark and pit-like; the next, the way was clear for a full -hundred yards. - -The boy knew his business. This much Fay had decided. The light car -roared with open muffler through sleeping towns. It swerved at a bend of -the canal and struck off across a dyke-country beyond which glowed the -lights of a city. - -Low barns and houses, crowned with the gaunt arms of silent windmills, -flashed by. A shout struck out from a crossing. The boy went on with his -blue eyes fixed on the road and his hand on the throttle-lever. - -Fay dragged out his watch by the chain and attempted to find the time. -He bent down, struck a match and held it to the crystal. It was close to -eleven o’clock. The fog had lifted from the dyke-land. - -A squeak of brakes and the smell of hot oil announced the first turn -leading into the city. Fay rose, after replacing his watch, and stared -over the windshield. He recognized the quays in the distance. He saw the -tall spire of the Hôtel de Ville. - -“Right here!” he told the boy as the car stopped. “You can go back. Take -these and buy a set of tires!” - -Fay handed over the sovereign capped with a second one. He shot a keen -glance at the driver. The boy had removed his cap and was bowing with -his broad face distended into a broader smile. - -“S’long!” said Fay, hurrying off. - -He heard the roar of the engine and the rattle of loose mud-guards and -clattery wheels. He did not glance back. The time was short. It was some -little distance to the embassy building. - -To a man who had prowled the South Kensington Museum and gotten away -with its choicest jade and jasper—to the first cracksman then living—the -problems of the dye cipher and of opening the embassy’s safe were not -impossible. Fay had taken harder boxes without leaving a trace. The -stethoscope he carried was twenty times more delicate than the drum of a -human ear. The combination-locks were fitted with pads, but these would -not prevent some slight sound when the tumblers dropped into their -designated notches. The Hatton Gardens affair had proved the truth of -this. - -There was also a little affair in Paris in the old days before the war. -Fay recalled its details as he glided through the dark streets in the -general direction of the embassy. - -Dutch Gus, of dire memory, had boosted him up to a window from an alley. -The German crook had waited outside in the guise of a drunken -night-rounder—a part he often played in real life. Then the German’s -eyes had popped at the sight of swag, loot and plunder obtained in the -time of minutes,—not more than fifteen. - -Fay chuckled at this job which had been so easy. He had gone through a -vault door, a day door and the steel-ribbed keister by means of a -stethoscope. This enterprise, of course, had been on an ancient French -combination box whose tumblers, to him, were like piano-keys to a -virtuoso. - -And now, Sir Richard had picked him as the best man handy. The chief had -cunningly played upon the heart cords of patriotism without slopping -over. The humor of the situation was its saving point. The chief had -failed by a double-play. Dutch Gus had appeared from out of the murky -waters of the Thames. Fay knew in the bottom of his heart that the -reason which was urging him on was the old one of jealousy. The -protection of the Yard, the call from Saidee Isaacs, the honor of the -enterprise which might save a world from a galling monopoly, all were -less than the quick flash of the German crook at the taffrail of the -inbound steamer. - -Fay reviewed these things and smiled bitterly. He nursed no delusions. -He was going to take that box for the reason that a lesser crook and a -stool-pigeon was embarked on the same enterprise. It was hardly likely -that Dutch Gus, and any of his mob he might have with him, would strike -on the first night. He resolved to leave them an empty keister, as far -as the key to the cipher was concerned. - -In all the thoughts which flashed through his brain as he neared the -embassy there was none of the right or the wrong of the matter. No -maudlin sympathy for a fallen felon had ever quite reached his heart. He -was steeled against an ordinary assault from that direction. The five -years at Dartmoor had taught him caution on a desperate enterprise. -Possessed with superior education and the keen wits of a modern stock -broker or man about town, he regarded crime as the natural outlet for -his energy. It had not paid, but this had been on account of the -trifles. There was the thumb-print in London which had brought the -braying bloodhounds of the Yard down upon him. There was a dropped hotel -key in Chicago. There was a legion of mistakes. - -He went on cautiously and set his mind on the problem ahead of him. He -was muffled to the eyes. The tools were safe about his clothes. The -American automatic was in his right-hand coat pocket. Also, he had not -neglected the rubber gloves which were to protect his fingers. The -matter looked promising. Already the great clock in the Hôtel de Ville -had struck the maximum. It was after twelve! - -A light mist swirled through the streets with a promise of more. He -watched it wrap the staid, snug-nested houses in gossamer folds. A thin -troop of stragglers wound homeward—German merchants out at elbows since -the Great Embargo, roisterers and women in yellow skirts who had -followed the armies until they walked like grenadiers, burgers with -pot-bellies and torches, who took the middle of the streets from force -of habit during the desperate days of the war. - -Fay disappeared down through the gloom of a well-remembered lane, waited -a moment, then tiptoed his way over stones till he reached a narrow -alley which cut between the embassy and a cloth merchant’s somber -exterior. The high-barred windows on both sides of him were dark and -staring. - -Glancing back for a final test, Fay reached upward and waited with his -arms extended to their limit. He narrowed his eyes as objects stood out -in the gloom of the passage. - -A skulking form passed the entrance to the alley. This form had -hesitated for the fractional part of a minute. Then it had disappeared, -going in the direction of the Hôtel de Ville. - -A low oath dropped from Fay’s lips. The skulker might have been a guard -to the embassy. Again, it might have been a drunken roisterer. Whoever -it was, there was danger of detection. - -Fay clinched his teeth with much of the old nerve surging through him, -grasped the top of the wall with his fingers and was up and over like a -quick alley cat. - -Gripped with the game, he worked swiftly. The garden wherein he stood -was filled with well-trimmed bushes and the scent of spring blossoms. He -crossed a soft bed by stepping on stones. He stooped at a low window and -tested his weight against the sash. Rising then, and listening, he drew -on a pair of rubber gloves and curled his fingers. - -The window might be connected with an alarm. He decided to take no -chances. The panes of glass were large enough for a man to squeeze -through. He chose one at the bottom and rapidly cut through the putty -with the point of a knife. It flaked off and fell at his feet. The glass -came out with a prying attempt at the upper edge. A breath of moist air -greeted him. He had broken through to the basement of the embassy. - -Canting his head, he listened. Hearing nothing, he thrust an arm through -the opening he had made and worked his body after the arm. His -rubber-covered fingers touched a rug on the floor. He half turned, -squirmed without sound and sat down with his face toward the window. - -He kept this in view as a possible get-away as he moved over the floor -without rising to his feet. A faint yellowish light marked the outlines -of the removed pane. All else within the basement room was black. - -The ticking of a clock sounded at his right. He stared in this direction -and waited with every sense alert. It was like receiving a warning of -the presence of life. - -He moved on with both hands outstretched. He reached the edge of the -rug. His fingers coiled over the fringe. Beyond this was polished wood -which felt smooth to the rubber gloves. - -Then, suddenly, he became aware of the muffled breathing of one in -torture. Groans sounded in low agony. - -Fay had no light save wax matches. He sensed the general direction of -the sounds and moved slowly in their direction. Every nerve of him was -alert. The heavy drag of the automatic was reassuring. It could be used -at an instant’s notice. - -The gasps and groans were nearer now. He reached out and touched a man’s -form. About this form were many turns of heavy cord. Across the man’s -mouth was a stick held in place behind the ears by a sash. - -Fay leaned down and strained his eyes. The yellowish light from the open -pane sifted through the room. Its details came out like figures on a -fogged photograph-plate. - -The man, trussed like a stuffed partridge, moved both legs and rolled -over. Fay saw a pasty countenance alongside a cap upon which was gold -braid. Purple waves mounted up this man’s neck. The gag was a clever -one. - -“The embassy’s night-guard,” said Fay in a whisper. “Poor chap, I was -worried about you all along. Somebody’s beaten me to it.” - -He realized with quick thought that the guard had been set upon by a -number of men who were now at work on the great strong-box upstairs in -the embassy. They had entered the building in some manner, surprised the -watchman, trussed and bound him and carried him down into the basement -where he would be safe. - -Fay leaned over the guard and hissed into his ear: - -“Vas has happened?” - -This was as near the language of the Lowland country as he would ever -get. - -“Brumm! Brumm!” choked the guard through the gag. “Brumm! Brumm! Brumm!” - -“All right, old fellow,” said Fay, “if that’s the way you feel about the -matter. I’ll leave you right here and go on. Cheaters have been cheated -before. I’m going to take a lone hand.” - -Fay reached toward his pocket, drew out the American automatic and -pressed the cold muzzle against the guard’s purpling neck. He backed -away, crawled around the obstruction and started toward the flight of -steps at the front of the basement. He heard a slight movement above -him. Plaster or dust fell to the floor. - -The craftsman took stock of the situation. He now could see every corner -of the room. The yellow light from the window aided his -cell-strengthened eyes. The five years at Dartmoor had made his sight -keen as a hawk’s. - -He touched the first step with his hand, rested his weight on his palm, -and grasping the automatic, started upward toward the ground floor of -the building. He took his time and worked on the edge of the steps. Here -he knew the least sound would be made by a prowler. It was a little -trick stolen from the old days. - -Coming to the next but the last step, he pressed his body against a side -wall, moved back the cocking mechanism of the automatic and advanced its -barrel, inch by inch. - -There were certain sounds in that vast room which told him that the safe -was being ripped apart. Metal rasped against metal. Rivets were being -drawn. Asbestos or plaster of Paris fell to the floor. Also, there was -the squeaky swinging of a great door. - -Fay peered around the corner and studied the view with dry smiling. It -was as if someone else was doing the work cut out for him. Forms moved -in the faint light. Oaths in German rolled from out the vault. A tool -clinked against another. - -The light swung and revealed the picture. Fay studied it keenly. It was -framed in the mellow age of tapestries and portières and heavy -draperies. Portraits of former ambassadors stared from the walls. - -The great outer door of the strong-box was open. The day door hung on -one hinge. A candle glowed within the safe. A man stood on a pile of -books. He was jabbing viciously at the keister door, which had resisted -his stoutest efforts. - -Fay realized that this man was Dutch Gus. There was that in his burly -form and thick-lipped oaths to prove the fact. Two others of the German -mob were arranged about the strong-box. They were gathering up tools in -the belief that their leader would soon succeed in opening the inner -compartment. - -The professional smile which changed upon Fay’s face to supreme disgust -would have caused Dutch Gus considerable concern had he seen it. Fay -hated a bungler worse than a squealer. The wreckage about the embassy’s -strong-box would have disgraced a gang of blacksmiths. It was the work -of tyros at the game. - -He waited and watched. The hour was no later than one. There was ample -time to checkmate the Germans. It was evident that they had made a hasty -descent upon the embassy by order of someone high in authority. The -German Government was vastly interested in getting the key to the -cipher. Heaven and earth would be moved to keep it away from the English -or American agents. - -The swaying light of the candle inside the vault went out with a sudden -puff from Dutch Gus’s lungs. A rattle of gravel sounded on the window -panes at the front of the room. This rattle was repeated. A pane -cracked. - -There appeared at the doorway of the strong-box a face aglow with -suspicion. Eyes darted toward the windows. An oath struck through the -room. - -Fay raised his automatic and stared forward. He had sensed with the -divination of the professional what had happened. The skulker in the -street was the lookout for the mob inside the embassy. He had rounded -the square and thrown gravel against the windows as a prearranged signal -of danger. - -His voice rose on the outside. It was a tipsy call in South German: - -“Du bist verrücht, mein Kind.” - -There was a warning in the simple words. Fay crouched beside a desk and -watched Dutch Gus. The German bungler was of two minds. He turned toward -his confederates. One of these grasped him by the arm and pointed toward -the door. - -“Schnell!” he exclaimed. “Ja, das ist Hugo!” - -“Yes,” said Fay, tersely. “Yes, the jig is up!” - -Dutch Gus snarled as he hurtled toward the desk. Fay dodged him nimbly -and glided to a deeper shadow of the room. More gravel struck the -windows. It was insistent! - -The action which followed was blurred. Fay held his position and watched -the three Germans stagger toward the front door. They dropped tools on -the way. Dutch Gus turned as the knob was turned. He stared backward -like a baffled boar that scented a trap. - -Fay heard shouts outside. There followed a clatter of heavy heels on the -steps leading to the street. A jimmy came hurtling through the air and -dug a hole in the plaster of the wall. It was Dutch Gus’s parting shot. -His burly form squeezed through the opening and was gone with a parting -snarl which sounded like “Suchen sie Schutz!” - -Acting swiftly now, Fay leaped over the floor of the room, slammed the -front door, bolted and locked it, then glided toward the shattered outer -doors of the safe. - -He had scant time to work in. Already shouts and calls echoed the -streets. Wooden sabots clacked over the cobbles. A whistle shrilled the -night. An alarm bell started to ring. - -“Curse you, you Dutch bungler!” said Fay, springing to the pile of books -and feeling over the plate of the keister. His rubber-covered fingers -found the combination-dial. This had not been injured. He whirled it -rapidly four times to the right as he thrust his free hand under his -vest and drew forth the stethoscope. - -Working with every sense alert, he clapped the diaphragm of the delicate -instrument over the dial’s spindle and thrust the ear-pieces into his -ears. He listened as he spun the dial three times to the left and then -moved it notch by notch. - -A click, as faint as a dropping feather, sounded. He reversed the -direction of rotation and listened for a second click. It came as a -rattle outside the door of the room denoted that guards were attempting -to enter. A stout cry rolled through the embassy. - -Fay did not hear this sound. His every effort was strained on opening -the door to the keister where the cipher-key was located. - -He turned the dial to the left and caught the third click. He needed now -but one more to open the keister. - -Slowly his fingers moved, with his brain centered on catching the faint -sound. It seemed a century of time. He was on the point of giving up and -repeating the entire operation when the last tumbler fell. - -Dropping the stethoscope where it dangled from his ears, he grasped the -handle of the door and pulled it down. It caught and then went into its -socket. - -Fay opened the door and reached for a match. The floor shook with the -tramp of feet. The air was vibrant with menace. Fingers seemed to reach -for him through the gloom. Lights flashed beyond the windows. - -He scratched the match on the wall of the keister and shaded it with his -palm. Inside was a dusty row of yellow envelopes, each bound with soiled -ribbons. Above these, on a shelf, stood the many seals of the embassy. -Over these and alone was a packet bound with string. - -Fay let the match singe his gloves as he eyed this package. It could be -no other than the one left by the agent who had fled to Holland and -there met with a sudden death. - -He reached and brought down this packet, held the last glow of the match -to its top and read the name scrawled there: - -“Otto Mononsonburg.” - -He dropped the charred stick and wheeled. Already the front door of the -embassy was giving. The way seemed blocked. He took his time, however. -He pocketed the stethoscope, crammed the packet into his left-hand -coat’s slit and closed his hand over the butt of the automatic as he -glided out and into the room. - -Faces appeared at the windows. They seemed like pumpkins on racks. The -door opened slightly. A long-barreled rifle was thrust through. Fay -stepped to one side and toward the stairway which led to the basement. - -He paused then and glanced for a last time at the windows, turned toward -the front door, then sauntered over to the basement steps and went down. - -The trussed guard had raised himself to a sitting position. The bandage -was still across his mouth. Each end of the stick stuck out like a -quill. Fay took care to avoid him, stepped to the window, threw the -catch and lifted the sash. He glanced out. - -The garden was deserted. The sounds which came from the front of the -embassy had not yet reached the side alley. There were any number of -these sounds. They reminded Fay of an aroused bee-hive. - -He passed through the window, pressed down the sash gently, removed his -gloves, and stood erect. The glueyness of the fog prevented any view of -the clock in the tower of the Hôtel de Ville. It also shrouded his -movements. - -He sprang over a garden bed, grasped the coping of the stone wall and -vaulted the obstruction with a half effort. He landed in a crouching -position on the alley pave. - -His hand raised, with the automatic held before him. He felt his -overcoat pocket with his left hand to see if the package was still -there. He rose to an erect position and started to saunter up the alley -and away from the embassy building. - -A shout behind him told that he had been detected. He turned his head -and glanced over his shoulder. He dropped into a swift run. Two burgers, -coming abreast, were hot on his trail. Their threats in Dutch echoed and -reëchoed. Fay hurried on. - -He came to a corner around which he turned. His eyes swept the street. -The way ahead was clear. To one side, however, and deep within a hallway -a form stood wrapped to the chin in a long coat. - -Fay darted by this form with every muscle straining. He expected a shot -or a cry to stop him. He turned his head as he was half-way down the -first block. His eyes were bright now. - -He saw the two burgers puff around the corner. They were running as one. -Their legs were out-thrust when the muffled figure in the doorway -extended a cane, tripped them up neatly and hurried away. - -Fay chuckled and went on. He was safe! It had been the reaching arm of -Scotland Yard that thrust out the cane. No one but MacKeenon could have -done that thing half so cleverly. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A RETURN STROKE - - -Vivid memories remained in Fay’s mind as he reached the great Hôtel de -Ville and turned toward the hostel where he had left the little silver -greyhound. - -The key to the dye cipher was safe with him. The blundering attempts of -Dutch Gus and the German crooks to obtain this key showed that pressure -had been applied from some quarter. The attack upon the embassy’s safe -on the same evening of arrival proved that the German gang had wind that -Scotland Yard was on the case. - -Dutch Gus had failed and the matter was closed, thought Fay. He felt -rather kindly for MacKeenon’s fortunate trip-up. He glanced over his -shoulder as he passed out of the shadow of the Hôtel de Ville. He heard, -as he walked on tiptoes, the far-off braying of the police who had most -certainly lost his trail. - -A bell still tolled within the city. A light showed here and there. For -the most part, however, the way was through dreaming street and -snug-wrapped houses whose drawn shutters seemed like night-caps. - -Fay sniffed the morning fog and found it laden with promise. It served -as a mantle and a cloak. It would be hours before the Lowland sun broke -through the mist. By then, he figured on being far from the scene of the -robbery. There was nothing whatsoever to be gained by remaining in -Holland. He had decided to deliver the cipher-key to Sir Richard -Colstrom at the house of the Two Lions in West London. At that same time -he would demand a full pardon and the freedom to live by no man’s leave -as long as it was within the law. - -Old scores would be paid. The way was bright. He searched his mind for -any overlooked trifles. There seemed none. He went on, turned a corner -and crossed a dark street. He knocked boldly upon the stout door of the -hotel. - -A second and a third knock brought no answer. A fourth, however, was -followed by footfalls inside and then the sudden lifting of a sash. Fay -stepped back to the curb-line and glanced upward. The moon-broad face of -the proprietor was beaming down upon him. A night cap was on his head. - -“The doctor!” said Fay with easy assurance. “Come, let me in!” - -Fay heard an exclamation concerning the British and the hours they kept. -The sash went down. The proprietor appeared at the door with his great -keys jingling like some grotesque St. Nicholas. - -“Beastly night,” said Fay, passing him and climbing the stairs. - -He opened his door and stepped into his room. He found a candle near the -wash place where he had burned Sir Richard’s note. Shading his eyes, he -stooped and glanced beneath the bureau. The thin cake of soap, wherein -he had pressed the silver greyhound, was within the dust. He reached and -secured this with a swift motion. He stood in the center of the room and -turned it in his fingers. - -There was much to do and little time to do it in. The police of the city -could not be rated as total fools. The work at the embassy showed a -foreign mind. No man in Holland was capable of opening an inner keister -without leaving a trace. Fay broke the cake of soap, took out the -insignia and pinned it to his left lapel. He moved toward the bed. It -was his intention to place the tools he carried in the bag, wait until -the proprietor was slumbering, and then make his way out into the -streets and away from the town. There were the quays. Ships sailed and -steamed for many ports. Freedom went to the bold! - -He had stepped half across the room when a sound in the hall caused him -to poise on his toes with his hand held rigid before him. He waited with -every sense alert. The sound was repeated. It was the soft fall of -steps. There was also the swish of skirts. They rustled silkily and out -of place in that hotel. - -The door opened slightly. Fay cursed himself for not locking it. Another -trifle had come up. He whipped his hand down to his right coat pocket -and coiled his fingers about the butt of the American automatic as he -lifted its barrel inch by inch. - -The door kept opening. It revealed the edge of a purple hat, a shoulder -and then the olive features of Saidee Isaacs. She stepped in and pressed -the door shut. She turned with her skirts swishing. - -“Did you get it?” she asked. - -Fay was mute for once in his life. He figured the turn of events as he -watched her eyes change color and grow soft. She had hired the auto -belonging to the hotel upon her arrival in Holland. It was natural that -she should stop at the same hotel after her vain appeal on the quay. -Perhaps she had hoped against hope that he would return to the cipher -quest. - -“Did you turn the trick, Chester?” - -He uncoiled his fingers from the automatic revolver and laid a finger -across his lips. He nodded with a faint smile as her hand came to him -impulsively. - -“I got it,” he said. “Dutch Gus was on the steamer coming in. I couldn’t -let him take the safe. As it was, he came near getting away with it. Sit -down, Saidee, and I’ll tell you what happened.” - -He waited as she turned toward the bed and glanced at it. Her chin swung -back and upward. Her eyes shimmered over with a moist glaze. - -“We must leave here, right away,” she said. “If you got the cipher-key -Sir Richard sent you for, my work and your work is done. We’re fearfully -rich and respected. Why, Chester, the police will bow every time they -see us.” - -Fay lowered his voice as he said: - -“Not the ones in this town. You’re right—let’s get out of here. Have you -any luggage?” - -“Just a small bag.” - -“Go back to your room and get it.” - -“It’s outside your door. I heard you come in, and dressed.” She glanced -at her reflection in the mirror over the wash place. She tilted her hat -as he crossed the room, removed the tools from his pockets and breast, -opened the little surgical bag and dumped them inside. - -“I’ve got everything,” he said, turning. “We’ll tiptoe downstairs and -make for the Schwartz Canal. There we can wait till I get a line on the -boats.” - -“MacKeenon and another are in town. Hadn’t you better try and connect -with them for protection? It’s wonderful to have the police with you, -Chester.” - -Fay darted her a sudden look of suspicion. He had not yet learned to -trust the police. They were his natural enemies. The five years in -Dartmoor had not quenched his old fire. She sensed this as he dropped -his hand to his pocket and turned his face toward the door. - -“They were only helping you,” she said. “Sir Richard was so interested -in the cipher, he thought, perhaps, you might need assistance. That was -all there—” - -“We’ll drop that subject, Saidee. Drop it now. Sir Richard is like them -all—he can’t be trusted. He told me I could come here alone—scot-free. -He’d get better results if he’d trust a man. We fellows from the inside -are not as black as some people imagine we are.” - -“But this cipher-key is so fearfully important, Chester. Where have you -got it?” - -Fay tapped his left overcoat pocket. “Right there!” he said, glancing -from the door to her. “Right where it stays, too, Saidee, till I see Sir -Richard.” - -“What is it like?” - -“I didn’t open the package. I’m not going to. Let Sir Richard do -that—after I have a word or two with him.” - -She frowned, with faint lines showing at the corners of her mouth. - -“It might be something we can memorize,” she suggested. - -“It’ll keep.” - -“But Dutch Gus and all those Germans are after the clue. Why, Chester, -you don’t know how I’ve worked—in Geneva and Zurich, and in Austria -before it surrendered. Three or four men were killed over the cipher. -You may lose the key. Let me see it.” - -He reached upward and buttoned his overcoat by twisting the buttons with -his finger. He lifted the surgical bag and turned toward the candle. - -“When you explain everything,” he said seriously, “we’ll be pals again. -As it is now—you are too close to Scotland Yard and the hounds to suit -me. You knew when I was coming out of—that place. You knew I was with -Sir Richard in London. You knew I was bound for Holland. You got here -almost as soon as I did. You left a mighty nice little house in the West -End. Who paid for that house? Who bought you that motor? You say, ‘Be -pals,’ but you are not the Saidee Isaacs I used to know. Come on! We’re -going out of this trap. The police may hammer on the street door any -minute. Dutch Gus ripped the big box in the embassy wide open. He made -more ‘rumble’ than an old-time German Prince plundering a French -chateau.” - -Fay stooped and pinched the candle’s wick with his fingers. - -He backed across the floor and found that she had barred the way to the -door. He could see her face from the light that sifted in through the -curtain. - -“Let’s go,” he said as her breath fanned his cheek. “Open the door, -Saidee.” - -“Wait.” - -He felt some pity for her at that instant. The lines about her mouth had -softened perceptibly. He had heard that a man who knows little or -nothing about a woman—idealizes her. - -“What’s the matter?” he asked pityingly. “Are you going to cave in and -cry on account of the cipher-key? I’d give it to you, Saidee, but there -is still danger.” - -“It isn’t that,” she said as she twisted the knob and peered out into -the hall. “I wanted to see if you were really in earnest about taking it -to Sir Richard. I don’t want you to take it—anywhere else—Germany, for -instance.” - -“Never,” whispered Fay as he seized her arm and guided her through the -hallway. - -“Now on tiptoes,” he said as they reached the stairs. “Hold your bag -high and walk on the side of the steps. That’s right, Saidee. Now back -toward a window I saw. The door is locked toward the street. I heard him -lock it.” - -Fay unclasped his fingers from her arm and tried the window. It led out -into the courtyard. He raised the sash, guided her through the narrow -opening, turned and backed out with both bags. He drew down the sash -until the window was closed. Then he stepped to her side in the gloom. - -“This way, pal,” he said with a world of quiet assurance. “There’s the -old auto you hired. And there’s the way out. I don’t believe we got a -rumble. We’re like two actors beating a board-bill, aren’t we?” - -She nodded her head, the plumes of her hat bobbing. She did not do any -of the things which might displease him. She walked at his side with -swift strides. Her glance was before her without the furtive back-stare -of the amateur. Her voice was natural and pitched in a low key. They -passed a sleepy burger or two. Once a watchman stepped out and glanced -at them. Fay remembered this and took a side street to throw the police -off his trail. - -They reached the first of the taverns and the quays. Murky, yellow fog -wrapped the dykes and lowland. Spars and masts showed. Funnels and -ventilators were thrust over the roofs of the warehouses. Sails hung in -buntlines and gaskets. Fisher craft loomed through the mists. The tang -of the sea was there in that inland port. - -“Four o’clock,” said Fay, listening to the strokes of the bell in the -Hôtel de Ville. “The police drag-net will be spread. We’ll go this way, -Saidee.” - -He grasped her arm and led the way down between two storehouses whose -ends were thrust like fingers out into the wide pool of the Schwartz -Canal. A small boat with oars was moored to the left-hand pier. Fay -dropped into this, reached and caught the bags as she tossed them down, -then assisted her to a damp seat in the stern of the boat. He cut the -painter with his knife, listened a moment as the boat drifted with the -tide, then he got out the oars and started rowing toward the opposite -bank. - -A winding shroud dropped around them. A billowing mass of wet sea fog -rolled over the city and blotted out the view of the shore and the -shipping. There was no sound save the rattle of the oars in the locks. -Fay bent his back and leaned close to the girl. - -“We’re getting on,” he said. “We’ll carry high, Saidee, and go over the -top of this cipher matter.” - -She shivered slightly and drew her skirt about her knees. Her head -turned toward the shore they had quitted. She attempted to pierce the -gloom. It was opalescent and filled with strange lights. - -“The police,” said she, “will miss this boat.” - -“I’ll kick it out when we land.” - -“Holland Yard will coöperate with Scotland Yard.” - -“Let them. I’m going to take the cipher-key to Sir Richard, in person. -He had no right sending MacKeenon on my trail.” - -“You still have it, Chester?” - -He rested an oar against his knee and drew out the package. “I’ve still -got it,” he said. “Otto Mononsonburg left it in a safe place—for a -German. There were three doors to take before this package could be -gained.” - -He glanced up into her eyes. To him they had hardened, despite her -weariness. There was an eagerness there he did not like. Calculation had -been foreign to her in the old days. - -Replacing the packet and taking up the oar, he said: - -“You’ve changed, Saidee. If I thought you were going to double-cross me, -I’d sink this boat. Your heart, your mind, your soul is in getting the -package. What does it mean to you?” - -She bit her lip and granted him a wan smile. “It doesn’t mean so much to -me, Chester, as it does to others. You really don’t know what you have -done tonight. You don’t know!” - -Fay swung at the oars and tried to sight the shore of the canal. He -sheered the boat and started rowing vigorously. - -Between strokes he said: - -“Come out with the truth, Saidee. Remember the old days. What have you -been doing since then? How did you happen to get mixed up with the Yard? -Don’t you know you can’t trust the police?” - -“Your viewpoint will change, Chester.” - -“Never!” - -“Yes—it will. It will if I ask you to change it.” - -He was silent at this. He rowed on until the bow of the boat struck a -sunken pier close to the shore. He rose, braced his knees against a -gunwale and glanced upward. A rotting quay was close at hand. There was -a ladder coming down from this quay. He reached, waited, then grasped a -rung of the ladder. The boat steadied as he drew it alongside the pier. - -“I’ll go up first,” he said. “You hand me the bags and then come up. -Push the boat away when you get on the ladder. Push it hard, so it’ll -float a long way before the police find it.” - -He saw her nod her head. He climbed upward, being careful to avoid the -broken rungs of the ladder. He turned at the top and reached down to -her. She passed up the two bags which he took and laid on the edge of -the pier. Her hand grasped his extended fingers. She thrust out the boat -as she leaped the gap and trusted herself to him. They stood in the -gloom at the brink of the dark canal. - -“All clear,” he said, after listening. “There goes the boat out toward -the sea. We’ll hurry inland and find a quiet spot. You’re damp. The -feathers of your hat look like Avenue A.” - -She drew her jacket about her breast. Her eyes were bright as she turned -and pointed toward the two bags. - -“Carry them,” she said. “Lead and I’ll follow. It’s almost dawn.” - -“We’ll find a dry spot,” said he, lifting the bags and starting over the -quay. “We’ll lay low till noon, then we’ll figure out the best get-away -from Holland. I think the railroads will be watched.” - -“I could carry the package to London without being suspected.” - -He squared his shoulders and walked on. His hands gripped the bags with -white strength. She realized that she had not gained his confidence in -the matter of the cipher-key. Her feet dragged. She glanced back now and -then. - -He came, after taking a long detour, to another canal which roughly -paralleled the one they had crossed. There was a tiny wooded isle in the -center of this canal. A narrow bridge of planks stretched from the shore -to the island. - -“A summer place,” he said. “That’ll do, Saidee.” - -She held her hand up toward the sky. A mist was falling. An opal vapor -was beyond this mist. The world seemed wrapped in a great yellow -blanket. - -“Beastly morning,” he said as he dropped the bags to his feet. “Suppose -they could follow us to here?” - -“I don’t know. I wish the sun would come out. I’m soaked.” - -“Come on,” he said, lifting the bags and starting over the plank bridge. -“We’ll pull one of these up and then we’ll be safe for a time. Where are -we?” - -She tiptoed over the bridge and watched him go back and remove the -center plank. This he pulled ashore. They walked up through dew-laden -grass and entered an open summer-house whose quaint carvings and low -benches, made from natural wood knots, showed the hand of a Holland -builder. - -He sat down, drew his coat around his knees and thrust out his shoes. -“I’ll wager, Saidee, we’ve beat the coppers,” he said, fishing for a -cigarette and lighting it with a sputtering match. “Now you come clean -with what you know and we’ll go back to London together. I’ll see Sir -Richard, get an unconditional pardon, and we’ll go to the States. The -war is nine months over.” - -“But another begins,” she said as she stood before him. “Don’t you know -the most terrible struggles are the silent ones—the commercial ones that -go on in the dark?” - -“Like the underworld against the police.” - -“Please don’t mention the underworld. I’ve been out of it for five -years—so have you. We’ve squared it. You know my people. I know yours. -It’s time we’re living up to our blue china. Thievery is worse than -cheating at cards. You should use your talents within the law. Let’s -play the game according to the rules.” - -He watched her and puffed at his cigarette. She walked back and forth -over the planks of the summer-house. The soles of her high-heeled -gun-metal shoes were wet. Her skirt hung dejectedly. The ruching about -her neck had lost its starch. The crowning touch of the drooping -feathers was pathetic. - -“I’ve dragged you through hell,” he said, indicating that she should sit -down. “I could make a fire, but someone might smell it.” - -She went to a rail and stared up the canal. A lighter gray indicated -that the sun was breaking through the clouds to the eastward. The rattle -of blocks and the creak of a sail going up floated down to them. She -turned away and sat down with her hands folded in her lap. She twisted -her finger-rings. - -“What happened to you when you joined Scotland Yard?” he asked -point-blankly. “Did they pinch you for something?” - -“No, they did not! They wanted something done and I was about the only -one who could do it. The war gave me an opportunity to show them what -real good I could do. They paid me for it—paid well. England never -forgets!” - -Fay thought of Dartmoor. “You’re right!” he exclaimed, tossing the -cigarette butt away. “England never does. So they adopted you and you -squared it and you acted as their agent in Zurich and other places!” - -“Their agents never admit they are their agents.” - -“Well put!” said Fay. “I’ve guessed right, though?” - -“Yes.” - -“And you had something to do with getting that cipher out of -Switzerland?” - -“I had a lot to do with getting it to England.” - -“And when you got it to Sir Richard—the key was missing?” - -She laid her hand over his left overcoat pocket. “You’ve finished what I -couldn’t,” she said. - -Fay leaned back. He listened, then drew out his cigarette-case and -selected a cigarette. She watched him intently. - -“It’s after six o’clock,” he said as he struck a match. “See, it’s -cracking dawn everywhere. The fog will go and leave us sitting in the -open. Suppose we plant the bags, walk ashore, and try the north bank of -the Schwartz Canal for a ship out of Holland. We don’t care where it -goes, if it gets us to England.” - -“It would be better for me to look for MacKeenon and give him the -package. He will give us a receipt which you can show to Sir Richard. -That receipt will free you from the five years hanging over your head, -Chester.” - -“I don’t play the game that way!” he said, rising and staring down at -her. “I’ll be my own messenger. I was sent after a thing, and I got it. -That hound, MacKeenon, might claim the credit. He might say I fell down -on the job. He’s looking for a reputation.” - -She realized that he was not to be moved from his purpose. Her eyes -blazed defiance as she sprang up. - -“Have it your own way!” she said. “But, Chester, you’re foolish! Don’t -you know that Germany would give a million pounds out of the Spandau -Tower—to keep England and the States from solving the cipher? It means -Germany’s financial ruin in the dye industries. The world learned how to -make potash, during the war—it hasn’t learned how to make good dyes -cheaply. The whole thing is in that cipher.” - -“I saw it, Saidee. There were hundreds and hundreds of sheets of paper -with letters on them. The letters seemed to be grouped—three to a -group.” - -“Oh, I worked on it. We all worked on it! I even got little Danny Nugent -from Soho to try his hand. Remember Danny? He used to stay awake nights -working out ciphers so the police couldn’t read them. He says the dye -cipher is impossible—that it follows no known rule.” - -“Sir Richard told me that,” said Fay. “Well, we got the answer,” he -added, glancing keenly around. “We got it, Saidee, and we’re going to -deliver it in person. We—” - -She clutched his arm at that moment. - -“What is that moving up the canal?” she asked tensely. “See it, Chester! -Is it a boat, close to the bank?” - -He drew her down and stared through the latticed bars of the -summer-house. A shadow moved within the bank’s shadow. A ripple showed -like the gleam of a silver wing. Sounds of oars in locks floated to -them. Then, and suddenly, all was still. A murky billow rolled over the -lowland and blotted out the canal from view. - -He reached and drew the bags to him. He thrust his fingers within a -crack and lifted a sodden plank. Leaves and moss were beneath the -flooring. A toad hopped away. - -“There’s room here,” he said, pressing down the two bags. “We’ll come -back for them when we find a ship.” - -Replacing the plank, he rose and stared toward where he had seen the -shadow. The fog had thickened. He could see nothing save the dark -surface of the canal. - -They crossed to the shore, after he had closed the little bridge with -the board. They glanced back, then hurried on toward the Schwartz Canal. -The pathway they took was winding and long. - -It was a mile below where they had first crossed the Canal in a boat, -before he stopped and pointed ahead. - -“A ship,” he said. “See the masts?” - -They went on through the lowland path and came to a bridge. The draw was -closed. Burgers and lorries passed from bank to bank. The smell of fish -and clams was in the air. The fog had not yet cleared from the surfaces. -Above the fog, windmills and spires showed in spectral outlines. - -Fay led the way to the gangplank of the ship. He paused there and -studied its outlines. It was a rusty tramp, engaged in the North Sea -trade. Its one funnel bore the Blue-D mark of the Holland line. A row of -white doors on the boat deck indicated that passengers were carried. - -He told Saidee Isaacs to wait as he turned and climbed up the plank. A -sovereign pressed into the hand of a Dutch steward, who stood at the -head of the plank, gained an instant ear. Fay took two staterooms on the -starboard side after ascertaining that the ship would steam within an -hour, and that her destination would be Stavanger, with Lemvig, in -Denmark, as a port of call. - -“You go aboard and wait,” he said as he descended the plank and moved to -her side. “I’ll get the bags and be right back. The ship sails in an -hour for Stavanger. From there we can double to Scotland by the Aberdeen -Line. From Aberdeen we can catch the Royal Scotch Mail for London.” - -“Be careful,” was all she said as she started up the plank. - -He hurried back to the bridge, crowded between two burgers who were -carrying nets, and gained the opposite bank of the canal. He took the -path with his head held high, his arms down at his sides. The fog was -thick. There were sounds ahead, of creaking windmills and of lowland -cattle. - -He went on, picking the dry places between the puddles. He came to a -marsh with white stones in a row, across it. The fog hung heavily. The -way ahead was through a clinging veil. - -Suddenly a whistle shrilled the damp air. A blare sounded behind him. -Fay leaped to the bank of the marsh and started running down the narrow -path which would take him to the plank bridge and the little -summer-house where the bags were. - -He struck, with sudden force, a taut wire which was stretched across the -trail. He went forward and down upon his knees. His hands were deep in -mire. He tried to raise himself, and twisted sideways. His feet were -snared. - -Out of the fog, on either side of him, there burst two muffled figures. -Each had an arm over his face. Both clutched revolvers. One was Dutch -Gus! - -A blow from a stone thrown by a third enemy drove the cracksman’s head -down into the swamp. He attempted to reach his right hand back for his -automatic. He felt his senses go, after a whirling struggle to retain -consciousness. A second stone spattered mud at his side. A voice -cautioned moderation. - -Hands crept over his overcoat and then under his vest. The stethoscope -and the surgical tools were drawn out. The packet in his pocket decided -the searchers. Dutch Gus had found what he was after. He rose and called -the name. - -“Otto Mononsonburg! Here it is, boys!” - -A second whistle shrilled within the fog. Fay lay still as the patter of -feet sounded and then died to echoes. He drew up his arm and passed it -over his head. Blood was on his fingers. He lifted himself slowly on his -right elbow. He stared about and then staggered to his feet. He went -through his pockets. Everything had been taken. His hand lifted to the -lapel of his coat. The greyhound was still there. - -“They left that,” he said slowly. “They left that. Which way did they -go?” - -He gathered himself together with a final effort. Hot blood surged to -his cheeks. He found his cap and pulled it on. He searched the pathway -in the direction of the summer-house. The footprints pointed the other -way. He retraced his steps and reached the edge of the marsh. - -A Bank of England note lay between two stones. It had been dropped by -Dutch Gus. Fay picked it up, folded it, and went on toward the Schwartz -Canal like an Apache after scalps. - -He reached the bridge and stepped into the stream of burgers. He saw -them eyeing him. The reason lay in his blood-stained face and muddy -overcoat. He crossed to the south bank and turned toward the ship. - -Grimly determined to have the thing out, he decided to tell Saidee -Isaacs what had happened, and then take up the search for Dutch Gus and -the cipher-key. He passed the first of the shore lines. A seaman in a -torn blouse was standing by these. A voice was bulling from the -ridiculously high bridge of the freighter. The screw churned. - -Fay shouted and leaped for the gangplank. He climbed upward and reached -the deck. There was still time to get Saidee Isaacs ashore. He would -need her now. - -A face that was stamped with unforgettable memory stared out from a -cabin. A door closed with a slam. Fay backed against the rail of the -ship and passed his hand over his forehead. - -Dutch Gus had fled to the same ship! They would make the passage to -Stavanger together. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -CHECKMATED - - -Fay’s first movement was a start of surprise. He gripped the rail and -waited as the dingy Dutch ship backed, starboarded, then started to turn -in the confined waters of the canal. - -Over him surged a rage which mounted in hot waves of blood to his -temples. He stood before the door, behind which crouched the man who had -set the trap in the Holland marsh, and who held the cipher-key. - -He felt caution vanish in one desire. He bunched his muscles and hurtled -toward the door. He struck it with staggering force. A crash resounded -above the sounds of shore-leaving. Seamen hurried in his direction. -Seeing red, and grimly determined to smash through to Dutch Gus, he -glided back against the rail, then lunged forward—this time with double -force. - -The stout door was immovable. One panel gave, however. Through this -opening an arm was thrust. A funnel of crimson fire stabbed the night. A -bullet clipped a piece from the rail. A roar sounded as a second shot -was fired from an American revolver. - -Fay staggered to one side of the door and wiped his face. He had not -been struck. The blood that showed was from the old stone bruise. A -sailor clutched his arm. He swiftly turned. - -“There’s a crazy man in that cabin,” he explained. “Open it up so I can -see what is the matter with him.” - -“I dank you better look out,” said the seaman. “I dank I better see der -capitan. Ya, dat fellow is crazy!” - -Dutch Gus thrust out the automatic revolver. A Holland mate appeared and -swung down from the boat deck. He stared at Fay and then at the smashed -panel. - -The cracksman pointed toward the door. - -“You’ve got a mad passenger. He almost killed me. You should put him in -irons,” he declared firmly. - -The mate glanced at Fay. He turned and advanced toward the cabin door. -The automatic was jerked inside. A table or shelf was held over the -opening. The crook was taking no chances. He had barricaded himself -inside the cabin! A mattress and a blanket were stuffed in the opening. - -Fay saw the uselessness of arguing the matter. A bo’swain and two seamen -conferred with the mate. A purser came up. Fay grasped his arm and -asked: - -“Where is the lady I was with? What is the number of her cabin?” - -The purser jerked his head toward the stern of the boat. Fay followed -him through the gloom. The ship was gliding by the shores of the canal. -The fog was heavy—impenetrable. The siren aft the funnel blared a -long-drawn warning. Bridges were swung to let the ship pass. Fisher -boats were drawn out of the way. - -Saidee Isaacs stood at the rail in the stern of the freighter. Boxes, -bales and crates formed a barricade between her and the cabins. She had -not noticed the commotion in the forward part of the ship. Fay dismissed -the purser and glided to her side. - -“Come to your cabin!” he exclaimed bitterly. “Dutch Gus has stolen the -cipher-key! He’s aboard. But I’ll get it from him!—I’m in this thing, -now—all the way!” - -“Where—when?” she questioned eagerly. “Checkmated?” - -Fay stared at the sea over the stern of the ship. His face grew gloomy -with thought. It came to him with the force of a blow that he had been -careless in the matter—so careless that it would be very hard to explain -to Sir Richard. - -“Yes, he beat me to it,” he said, lowering his voice and backing against -the rail. “He’s got the package that contains the key in his cabin.” - -“You dropped it—lost it?” - -Fay pressed his hand over his forehead. A stain of blood was on his -fingers as he drew them away. - -“It was when I went back for the bags—the thing happened, Saidee. I’m -not over it yet. I got what I deserve for being so careless.” - -The cracksman paused and stared into her crimsoning face. The olive -beauty was gone. In its place had crept a saffron hue which seemed to -center in her eyes. She stamped her foot on the deck. - -“Come on,” he said wearily. “Let’s go to your cabin. Climb over these -bales. Look out for that tackle. Now through these crates.” - -He seized her arm and guided her through the last of the deck stores. -They mounted a short ladder and hurried forward. The two cabins assigned -to them by the purser were upon the opposite side of the ship from the -one occupied by Dutch Gus. - -She hastily got out a key, twisted it in her trembling fingers and -opened her door. She entered and switched on the light. He followed her -after a glance up the deck. He drew her door closed. - -“Now, explain everything,” she whispered as she leaned forward and -studied his blood-stained face. “Just how did you come to lose it?” - -Fay drew off his cap and tossed it to the bunk. She helped him with his -overcoat. She stood near the door as he rolled up his sleeves, glanced -swiftly at the blood stains, then started pouring water from a -racked-pitcher. - -“Wait till I clean up,” he replied, lathing his hands. “Dutch Gus took -everything. They knocked me out and went through my pockets. The -package—my money—the revolver—everything is gone. It reminded me of -Chicago—only worse!” - -She caught the laugh in his voice. It reassured her. He was far from -being beaten. - -“Have you any money?” he asked, turning his hands toward the light and -staring at them. - -“Yes! Plenty! Thank goodness, mine wasn’t in my bag. But almost -everything else was!” - -“You don’t happen to have a gun?” He dipped his face into fresh water, -mopped his hair, then reached for a towel. - -“I’ve a little one. It’s loaded.” - -“Better give it to me. I’m going to get Dutch Gus before this ship -reaches land. He can’t get away with what he has done. Part of his gang -is aboard. I don’t care. He’s lived entirely too long, for the good of -the world, Saidee.” - -She caught the new, determined note in his voice. It steadied her. She -stooped, turned up the bottom of her skirt and drew out from a secret -pocket a tiny silver-plated revolver of superior make. - -Glancing at it, she dropped her skirt and thrust it into his reaching -hand. - -He twirled the barrel, pocketed the revolver and put on his coat, -overcoat and cap. - -“I was pretty rough,” he said apologetically. “You’ll have to forgive -that part. I’m going after Dutch Gus, Saidee.” - -“Be careful. Can’t you wait till the ship lands?” - -“No! It’ll put into Denmark. Germany has agents there who will come -aboard and take Dutch Gus with them. It’s now or never.” - -Fay stepped to the door and moved it partly open. He stared out. Turning -his head, he said: - -“The fog is lifting—I see dykes and the open sea. I’ll go around on the -other side and wait by his door. I won’t let him out. You try this side -and see if you can find any of his pals. There were two or three of -them. Perhaps they didn’t all come aboard.” - -“Is there any way we could wireless MacKeenon?” - -“Too late for that. The ship will put into Denmark early in the -afternoon.” - -She watched him disappear through the door and glide toward the stern. -Arranging her hat in the mirror and frowning at her disheveled -appearance, she hurried to the deck and started forward. - -Two skulkers by an outswung life-boat turned their faces away and -pretended to watch the shore. She saw that they were Germans and that -their shoes were caked with marsh-mud. She turned at the pilot-house and -glanced back. They were eyeing her sharply. - -Fay stood by the rail directly in front of Dutch Gus’s cabin. He raised -his cap as she hurried in his direction. A steward and a deck hand had -nailed a barricade before the shattered door. No sound came from inside -the cabin. - -“All right,” said Fay, without moving his lips. “He is trapped. They -think he’s crazy. He can’t get out, but we can’t get in. The captain -says he’ll call the port officers when we reach Denmark.” - -“And some of them will be German agents.” - -Fay admitted this by a slow nod. He backed against the rail, hooked his -heel into a netting and eyed the door for all the world like a man who -was there to stay. - -She realized what was passing in his mind. The time was slipping by. -Already the open water had been reached. The ship would soon be in the -North sea. A slight rocking foretold the seas to come. - -Glancing toward the bow, she puckered her brow. Her thoughts were on the -cipher-key. It was in the hands of Dutch Gus. He well knew its value. He -had followed her from Holland to London and from London back to Holland -in the quest. There seemed no way to get him out of the cabin before the -ship put into port. - -Fay dropped his heel to the deck. They were out of ear-shot of the -steward and the deck-hand who were standing guard over the remarkable -passenger. - -“I’ve a plan,” she said with the brevity of a man. - -“What—is it?” - -“Set the ship on fire and get him when he comes out.” - -Fay glanced at her in admiration. “Good!” he said. “Good idea, but—” - -“But what?” - -He turned and studied the sea. A fog draped the lowlands. Beyond, rocks -and hills rose. A ridge followed the coast line. The wind was from the -north and west. Sailing craft dotted the ocean. - -“If we burn this boat,” he said to her. “If we do—and I can do it—we -might burn him with the cipher-key. He couldn’t get out of the cabin -soon enough. This ship’s loaded with inflammable crates.” - -“But we must do something.” - -He lifted his chin and stared at the funnel and the pilot-house. He -turned and counted the small-boats. His eyes darted swiftly over the -superstructure. They fastened finally upon a companion with a handrail. -It led downward to the engine-room. A grimy Dutch coal-passer was -leaning over the rail, smoking a pipe. His shirt was open to the waist. -His belt was a black-tarred rope’s end. - -“I’ve got it!” said Fay, suddenly. “See where that hatch leads? Look, -Saidee! It leads to the stoke-hold and the engine-room.” - -“To the bottom of the ship?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well?” - -“I’m going around the deck and count the boats. I don’t think there are -but four. There’s not more than six or seven passengers. The crew can’t -number over fifteen—counting the engineers and the stokers. Twenty or -twenty-two souls—all told. We’ll get Dutch Gus out into the open where -we can handle him. Come on!” - -“Are you going to leave him alone?” - -“Yes! He won’t trust that cipher-key to anybody. It’s sealed. He won’t -open it. He’s certainly got it with him. It’ll be with him when the -crash happens. Go to your cabin. I want you to stay there till I come -for you.” - -She followed him around the stern. He opened her cabin door, after a -shrewd glance at the two Germans by the life-boat, and went in. - -“Stay here,” he said. “We’re sure to be watched, together. I’ll be back -in ten minutes. I’m going below, and if this ship is what I think it -is—we’ll get the cipher-key. You look out every minute and watch the -Germans. Follow them if they go to Dutch Gus’s cabin.” - -He darted away from the girl and around the stern of the ship. Already a -heavy swell was lifting the bow. There was a promise of more seas to -come. The fog had lightened in patches. Vistas showed, framed by -dragging vapor like the ropes of huge Zeppelins. A glint of sun slanted -over the coast of Holland. The ship was skirting the coast line. It was -in danger of floating mines which had broken loose before peace had been -declared. - -He paused in his steps, after descending the ladder and advancing part -of the distance to the engine-room companion. The Dutch stoker, with his -pipe, was still taking the air. - -“Can I go down?” Fay asked as he pointed toward the deck. “I’d like to -see the engines.” - -“Engines, Ja!” said the stoker, removing his pipe and pressing the bowl -with a broad thumb. “Ja! Ja!” - -“Thanks,” said Fay, grasping the curved hand-rail and turning in his -descent. He glanced at the waves apprehensively. - -He reached the grating and stood in the gloom between a rusty bulkhead -and a triple-expansion engine. He saw, high over his head, a row of open -port-holes. He had marked these from the deck. They had given him the -plan to save the cipher-key. - -An oil-incrusted engineer passed without noticing him. Fay started aft. -There was a maze of injector-pumps, bilge-pumps, condenser-pipes and -steam leaders on the starboard side of the engine. He saw the hand -wheels of the sea-cocks. These were well down on their threads in a -closed position. He glanced at the open hatch. - -His chance came as the same surly engineer shouted an order and vanished -through the bulkhead-door which led to the stoke-hold. It was a free and -easy ship such as is found in the coast service of Holland and the North -Countries. He worked swiftly as he opened three of the sea-cocks. He -paused on the ladder which led to the engine-room companion. Running -water sounded within the space between the double skin of the ship. -Bilge muck seeped along the gratings. An oily patch glistened and -reflected the light from a yellow lantern. - -Fay descended the ladder and waited at the foot. He was not sure that he -had done everything necessary to sink the ship. There might be an -automatic stop on the sea-valves. An indicator bell was liable to ring. -He leaned and listened. Sounds came to him of shovels scraping over the -iron plates in the stoke-hold. There was a smell of hot oil about the -engine room. The clanking of the engines seemed slowed for some reason. - -Gripping the palms of his hands with his fingernails, he waited for -someone to come aft and report the water. It would be easy then to -explain that he had come down the ladder to investigate the matter. - -An oath in Dutch sounded from the stoke-hold. A coal-passer threw down a -shovel. There was an argument between the engineer who had gone forward -and the stoker. Hot words rolled through the bulkhead door. This would -serve to gain time. Fay suddenly glanced at the deck. It was almost a -foot deep with brine. - -He turned and climbed the ladder swiftly. He passed the Dutchman at the -engine-room companion, who was still smoking his pipe. The mild eyes of -the man made no sign. A heavy veil of fog and mist rolled over the -ship’s bow and wrapped the standing rigging. - -Fay stared about the deck. A bo’swain stood in the chains on the -starboard side. He swung a lead line but did not let it go. The skipper -leaned out of the side door of the pilot-house. His eyes were on the -fog. - -A sudden sickening lunge of the bow showed that the ship had taken -aboard much water. This action escaped the seamen. They stood at their -position—unaware that the deck had lowered toward the surface of the -water. - -Fay thrust his hands into his overcoat pockets and climbed to the -boat-deck. He felt the cool surge of victory. A few minutes more and -there would be no saving power to keep the vessel from a watery grave. -Already it was water-logged and sluggish. - -He turned and saw Saidee Isaacs standing in the doorway of her cabin. -She was watching the two Germans who were sheltered by the long-boat. -Fay moved along the canted deck and grasped her arm. - -“Get ready for trouble,” he whispered buoyantly. “Have you anything in -the cabin you want? You won’t have a chance to get it later.” - -“What have you done?” - -He loosened his grip and smiled at the thought of the open sea-cocks. -“I’ve done enough,” he said. “I didn’t think it could be done. This is a -sleepy ship.” - -“Have you set fire to it?” - -Fay leaned against the cabin sheathing and marked the nearness of the -sea. - -“Not quite as bad as that,” he said, pressing his hand against the -sheathing. “I’ve scuttled her, though, or think I have. I opened almost -everything with a wheel on it, below. As soon as the alarm is given, I -want you to hurry to the after boat and pull the plug. One boat ought to -be enough for the crew and passengers. There will be a sort of a panic. -They’ll all get away, though, except the man we want. He’s nailed tight -in his cabin.” - -Fay stepped to the rail and leaned over. The reaching waves which curled -to the scupper holes seemed like white fangs. The alarm had not yet been -given! - -“Tell me what you have done,” she asked again. - -“Opened the sea-cocks, Saidee.” - -“But—I don’t understand.” - -“You will! This won’t be the first ship that has been sunk in the same -manner. I don’t think there is any way to save her. See, she’s listing -to starboard. Hear the crew?” - -They stepped to the cabin door. The Germans by the life-boat had -vanished. A running of footsteps sounded overhead. The hoarse voice of -the captain blared through the fog. An oiler burst through the -engine-room companion and staggered forward. - -“She’s sinking!” he shouted in English. “Der ship is sinking!” - -“I hope it is,” said Fay. “The fools haven’t sense enough to shut off -the sea-cocks and start the bilge pumps. A little black water in an -engine room is very disconcerting. Come, Saidee,” he added. “Dutch Gus -will be driven from his cabin like a rat from a hole.” - -She walked past him. He saw her climb to the after boat and jerk at the -lanyard of the wooden plug. The cord broke. He passed around the -pilot-house, grasped a hand-rail and lowered himself to the starboard -side as the ship lurched and her bow went under a northern wave. - -Pandemonium seized the decks. The crew and the engine-room force lost -their heads. Their one thought was to outboard the life-boats and get -away. Burly forms loomed through the fog. Knives slashed at the boats’ -lashings. Fay heard a cry from aft. A boat had already been lowered. He -glided along the canted deck and saw that the door to Dutch Gus’s cabin -was still barred. The German crook had been deserted by his companions. -The planks, nailed in place by the purser and the deck hand, were stout -ones. - -Fay waited until Saidee Isaacs came through the fog and the sea-spray. -She was water-soaked and frightened. She had seen the crew deserting the -ship. - -“Get by that forward boat!” he ordered. “I’ll be there in a minute. The -ship will float a little longer. Stand by, Saidee, and wait for me!” - -He grasped the rail and edged toward Dutch Gus’s door. Stout blows -indicated that the crook was trying to pound his way out. The panels had -been shattered. The way was barred by the planks which were nailed to -the sills. - -The cracksman grasped the end of one of these, braced his feet against -the cabin-sheathing, and jerked the plank from its nail hold. He dropped -his hand swiftly to his side pocket and drew out the tiny revolver. -Poising it, he waited grimly. - -First the shock-head and then the evil, heavy-browed eyes of the crook -appeared. These were followed by his shoulders. - -“Get back!” snapped Fay, thrusting forward his revolver. “Get -back—you—Get back!” - -Fay moved toward Saidee Isaacs. She was standing helplessly by the -boat’s falls. - -“Cast these off,” he said, bending and untwisting the ropes from the -cleats. “That’s right, help! Now get into the boat. I’ll lower it. See, -it goes out and down. The water isn’t far.” - -A reaching comber lapped over the bow of the doomed freighter and curled -along the upper decks. Fay braced himself against this flood. He saw the -boat lift and then drop into a trough of the waves. It crashed against -the ship’s plates. Saidee Isaacs was thrown against a gunwale. She -raised to her knees and glanced helplessly up at him. - -He turned and darted a swift survey of the canted deck. Dutch Gus was -crawling through the opening between the planks. The stern of the ship -was a swelter of foam and curling eddies. A small-boat, crowded with -Dutch seamen, tossed like an egg-shell upon the crest of a wave. It -disappeared in the hollow between two great seas. - -Fay climbed over the rail, waited, then leaped the distance for the -small-boat. He landed in the stern and fell sideways. He rose and -grasped the gunwales; Saidee Isaacs’s face was not more than a foot from -his. Her dark eyes had opened to their widest proportions. Her hat and -waist were sodden with brine. - -He smiled reassuringly. “Buck up, Saidee!” he said. “Think of poor Dutch -Gus. Watch, when he jumps.” - -Wonder broke through the beauty of her eyes. She turned and stood erect. -The dingy freighter was on the verge of its last plunge. The starboard -rails were under the sea. A single figure climbed for the highest -places. It appeared on the top of the pilot-house. Fog wrapped the -standing rigging. Wind and mist blotted out the view. - -The view returned. The figure was now close by the funnel. Hands were -raised impotently toward the heavens. The German in Dutch Gus had caved. -He cried, and the sea mocked him. - -Fay loosened a pair of oars, sat down, and swung the bow of the small -boat toward the ship. He sensed his position and bent his back. The ship -went down in a geyser of white foam. The upper deck-cabins and -ventilators were sheered from their holding-bolts. The sea churned with -white wreckage. - -Out of this wreckage there appeared a bobbing head. Fay swung the boat -and rowed in the direction of this head. He waited, inboarded his oars -and rose with the tiny revolver clutched tightly in his hand. Saidee -Isaacs leaned over the bow. She pointed toward Dutch Gus. - -The German crook was going down for the second time when Fay leaped -forward and reached out his right hand. - -He caught a firm grip upon the swimmer’s neckband. He jerked backward -and lifted Dutch Gus out of the sucking sea. The girl stumbled to the -stern of the boat as the bow went under and water cascaded over the -seats. She stood erect and watched Fay. - -Taking no chances, he laid the form over a gunwale and searched the -pockets. He found a pasty mass of Bank of England notes and some gold. A -knife, cartridges, papers and a notebook followed. - -He deposited these on a seat and rose. He glanced over the sea. There -was no sign of the other boats of the ship. Wreckage and floating crates -lifted and fell with the waves. Fog swirled and wreathed about the spot -where the freighter had gone down. - -Stooping swiftly, Fay unbuttoned the German’s clothes and removed a -money-belt. There was a bulge near the buckle of this. The buckle was -hard to open. Fay turned, steadied himself, and snatched up the knife. -He opened a blade with his strong teeth. He slit the chamois of the belt -and drew out the cipher-key. It was sealed. It had not been tampered -with. The paper with which it was bound was wet. - -“We win!” he exclaimed as he turned toward the girl in the stern of the -boat. “He’s checkmated!” - -Her eyes flashed. She clutched the tossing gunwale with her fingers. She -poised as he held up the package. - -“Give it to me, Chester,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.” - -He extended his arm and passed the package to her. “It may be worth the -price,” he said. “Guard it carefully.” - -He wheeled and stepped toward Dutch Gus. The German lay half in and half -out of the water. His legs dragged through the waves. Fay rolled back -the eye-lids and studied the pupils. He felt the pulse. - -Turning then and searching the bottom of the boat, he saw a dry place -where he could lay him. He lifted the body and staggered aft with it. He -dropped it between the center and the stern-seat. - -“Come forward,” he said to the girl. “He isn’t armed! We’ll wait till he -recovers his senses and then we’ll make him row us ashore. It can’t be -more than six or seven miles.” - -Dutch Gus stirred at this statement. He threw up an arm and rolled over -on his face. His hand crept toward his waist with sly, creeping jerks. - -Fay smiled as the girl came to his side and sat down on the forward -seat. “Watch,” he whispered. “He’s shamming! Watch, when he misses the -package.” - -A savage roar greeted the discovery of the loss. Dutch Gus doubled, -turned, and lifted himself by grasping the starboard gunwale of the -boat. He glared forward. His eyes were blood-shot and baleful. He saw -the tiny revolver come up inch by inch until its muzzle pointed straight -for his forehead. - -“Row!” said Fay. “Take up those oars and go to work. I plucked you -clean! You lost the gun you stole from me when the ship sunk. This one -is a six-gun with steel bullets and smokeless-powder. It’s little, but -it’ll do the work!” - -The crook’s eyes wavered. They searched the tossing sea, which was -fog-shrouded. They returned to the sight of the little gun held so -steadily. They dropped to the oars. - -“That’s right,” said Fay. “Sit backwards and fall to. It’s only seven -miles, Dutch. Why did you pick such an awful coast?” - -The German had no answer for this question. He staggered to his feet and -stared about with savage eyes. Each time he turned toward the stern of -the boat, he saw the little silver-plated revolver. - -“Sit down!” said Fay. “Take up those oars! I’ll give you ’till I count -three. One!” - -Dutch Gus dropped to the seat and picked up an oar. He outboarded this, -then reached for the other. His broad back and sodden clothes blotted -out the view astern. He swung his body and cursed as the oars missed the -water. He dug the blades too deeply. He made poor progress. - -Fay reached and pressed the cold muzzle of the gun against the German’s -purple neck where it showed above the collar. - -“A little faster,” said the cracksman. “Try it again. It’s only six or -seven miles.” - -The girl glanced now and then over her shoulder. The fog along the coast -was heavier than any veil. Beneath this fog the sea lifted and dropped -with a long-drawn moan. - -An hour passed with the boat making slight headway. Fay shifted the -revolver to his left hand. They were caught in a current which was -bearing them toward the coast faster than the German could ever row. An -island showed through the fog. A ship blared a signal. - -Saidee Isaacs rose, stood on the seat, balanced herself against Fay’s -shoulder, and called. She repeated the call. It was unanswered. An echo -mocked them as a faint cry was thrown backward. - -“Sit down!” commanded Fay. “It isn’t far, now. See? That’s land! That -isn’t fog. Over there!” - -He pointed the gun toward where a murky mass of vapor was backed by a -deeper shadow. - -She glanced over the boat’s side. The water was yellow—from mud. - -“We’re nearing shore,” she said. - -He stared at her. They both were buoyant with the thought of the -cipher-key. It drove away sleep and weariness. Now and then she touched -the hiding place and smiled at him. - -Dutch Gus rested on his oars and breathed heavily. Fay clicked the -cocking mechanism of the little revolver. The German did not turn. He -bent forward swiftly and dragged backward. He repeated the motion. The -fear of death had crept through his brain. - -An island, mud-shored and barren, lifted out of the sea. It was no -larger than the deck of a ship. Rocks showed where the high-tide had -washed. There was a white line on these rocks. - -“Starboard, a little,” said Fay. “No, the other oar!” he snapped. -“That’s right. Make for the island. I’m going to maroon you there.” - -The German rose as the boat grounded. He turned and stared downward at -the menace of the revolver. It was compelling. The steady finger through -the trigger-guard, the eye that flashed over the sights, meant death, -and quickly. - -“Get over the bow and wade!” - -Fay said no more. He crouched by lifting himself partly from the seat. -He watched Dutch Gus leap from the boat and sink to his waist in mud and -water. He turned the gun and handed it to Saidee Isaacs. - -Taking the oars, he drove the light craft far off the shore and in the -direction of the mainland. Each time he feathered the blades he saw the -lone figure standing by the rocks. A clenched fist was raised to the -overhanging pall of fog and sea vapor. A horrible curse rolled over the -waters. - -Fay turned away and glanced into Saidee Isaacs’ olive face. She smiled -with her eyes. She pointed over the bow. He nodded and bent his back. -The boat reached an inlet between two high promontories. He guided it -ashore and inboarded the oars with a jerk of his wrists. - -She stepped out and seized the painter. Fay sprang over the seats and -assisted her. They stood on a shelving beach which bore the marks of -fisher-boats’ keels. - -“We’ll go up there,” he said, pointing to a path which wound around the -sea end of the northern promontory. - -She followed him. He turned now and then and assisted her to climb the -rougher spots. They came to a shelf which was directly over the sea. -They stood and gazed out toward the island whereon Dutch Gus was -marooned. It was hidden by the sea mist. - -“Let me see the package,” he said, fastening his glance upon her. “Let’s -open it and find out what it is. Then, if it is ever lost we’ll know how -to solve the riddle of the dye-cipher. I’d rather have it in my head -than where it can be stolen.” - -“Do you think we should open it?” she asked, thrusting her hand in her -waist at the breast. “Don’t you think we can wait?” - -“No! We might get stopped yet, Saidee. We don’t know where we are. This -may be Denmark. The coast guards may search us.” - -She handed him the package. He glanced at the strings and the seals. -They had been untouched. He studied the name blotted by the sea water -into a running smear. - -“It’s all right,” said he with satisfaction. “Dutch Gus never opened -it—but I’m going to. You’re my witness, Saidee. Here goes.” - -He drew the German’s knife from his pocket and cut the strings. He ran -the thin point of the blade under the seals. There were five of them -joining the paper. He unwrapped the covering and held out an oblong box -which was stamped with a small, “Made in Germany” mark. - -Lifting the lid, he peered inside! - -Her warm breath struck his cheek. Her gasp of surprise was followed by a -disappointed cry. Her hands raised and clutched the soiled ruching at -her throat. She stamped her foot. - -Inside the box was a pair of smoked-glasses! - -Fay lifted his white, drawn face and glared toward the sea. He swayed as -he drew the box with its contents back and over his right shoulder. He -flushed suddenly with the memory of the trip he had taken. Rage -crimsoned his features. - -“Sent me!” he exclaimed huskily. “They sent me through hell to get this -trifle. You, Richard, and you, Keenon—are mad!” - -The box and the glasses described a flashing arc through the air. They -struck the sullen waves below the shelf of dark rock. They sank in many -fathoms of brine. A winding shroud of opal vapor swirled and enclosed -them in its clammy folds. It was like a pall to all his hopes! - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -SMOKED-GLASSES - - -Saidee Isaacs was the first to recover her voice and reason. She seized -Fay’s left arm and drew him away from the edge of the cliff. She feared -that he might cast himself into the sea. - -“You shouldn’t have thrown them away,” she said quickly. “Chester—you -should have looked them over carefully. Perhaps—” - -“I’m done! To think what a fool I’ve been. We’ve both been gulled. It is -the end of a wild-goose chase—if ever there was one!” - -She let go of his arm. Her face lifted to his. She saw his eyes flash -out and over the sea. A bitter light was in their depths. Defiance -flamed there. He squared his shoulders and dropped his hands to his -sides. - -“Come on!” he said. “Let’s go inland and find out where we are. We can -get a railroad train or something for the north. The country is full of -refugees and broken soldiers. No one will notice us. We can go to -Stavanger and then to the States.” - -She furrowed her brows and blocked his way by thrusting her body before -him. - -“We mustn’t leave here yet!” she declared positively. “You’ve done -something you shouldn’t have done. Suppose the key was written on the -wrapping paper of that package. Suppose the smoked-glasses were -hollow—or something like that. We wouldn’t expect the key to be right -out in plain view. I wonder if there is any way to get them back?” - -“Get them back? No! I never want to see them! I’m done—I say! They were -ordinary glasses like beggars or blind men buy for a shilling. There was -nothing on the wrapper or the box. The whole thing was a hoax—or an -accident.” - -“Do you think that the embassy would put such a thing in the inner box -of their strongest safe?” - -“They didn’t know what was in the package.” - -“But, Chester, they refused to give it up—either to Germany or to -England. They knew it was important. They knew that the commercial war -was on. The signing of peace had nothing to do with the dye secrets. -They belong to the man who is strong enough and clever enough to get -them. You got the key to the whole thing—then threw it away.” - -Fay stared back over the pathway. He hesitated, then turned toward the -girl. Her eyes were dark and smoldering. She was very sure of herself. -The fire within her had reddened her olive cheeks. Her lips had -hardened. - -“I despise you!” she said. “You’re so thoughtless! You overlook the -trifles of life. What are we going to say to Sir Richard?” - -“Sir Richard will never find me. You can go back! I’m going to the -States. I’m done, I tell you!” - -She realized that he was not to be moved from his declaration. - -“How deep is the water where you threw the glasses?” she asked as he did -not move from his position. - -“Fifty or sixty feet, Saidee. There’s an undertow and tides and waves. -It’s no use! Let’s forget the smoked-glasses and go to Stavanger. We’ve -got a right to live in this world. Has the Yard any strings on you?” - -She did not answer him. Instead, she stepped to the edge of the cliff -and glanced downward. She swayed, braced her foot and stood there in an -attitude of thought. Finally she turned and came back to him. - -Her hand clutched his left arm as she drew him toward the side rocks and -a shelter from the wind. She spread her damp skirt and sat down upon a -driftwood plank which someone had carried up from the sea. She dropped -her face in her hands. He watched her. - -“Quit that!” he said with feeling. “What are you doing—crying?” - -She glanced up swiftly. Her eyes were bright and free from tears. “I’m -thinking, Chester,” she said, “of a number of things. I’m not like other -women—or girls. I can hate and I can despise. I almost hate you, now. -Your friends are Sir Richard and MacKeenon. They helped me get you out -of Dartmoor. You say they did it for a purpose. Granting that does not -change matters. The purpose is a high one. You responded at first. You -took their parole and went to Holland. Now, when you may have held the -key to the dye cipher in your hand, you threw it away. You talk of going -to Stavanger and to the States. Don’t you realize the obligation you owe -to me?” - -Fay shook his head with emphasis. “I realize that the whole thing is -up,” he said feelingly. “I hate Scotland Yard, now! They sent me on a -venture filled with dangers for me, and none for them. They took a -chance that the package in the embassy’s safe was the cipher-key. They -didn’t know any more about it than I did. It’s proved! Do you think a -clever German chemist would have a key hidden in a pair of -smoked-glasses? He left them with the embassy for a gull. The true key, -if there was one, died with him.” - -“Then Dutch Gus and the others were wrong?” - -Fay raised his brows. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said slowly. “It -does look queer. But a pair of smoked-glasses don’t answer the riddle.” - -“You shouldn’t have thrown them into the sea.” - -“You don’t think I was going to take anything like that back to Sir -Richard, do you?” - -She rose and stood before him. Her hands were straight down at her -sides. Her upturned face was heated and burning. She flashed an inner -signal which he did not understand. - -“I despise you now,” she said slowly. “You’re clever and you’re -keen-brained and you’re cool-headed, but you overlook the trifles. You -have failed a dozen times on account of trifles. You can’t see that -little things have vast importance, sometimes. The smoked-glasses were a -trifle. You threw them away before I knew what you were doing. Suppose -they turn out to be the cipher-key.” - -Fay drew away from her a step. “Suppose they do,” he said. “We can’t -ever get them back. Why not quit arguing in a circle and come down to -facts? I want you to go to Stavanger with me. I need a pal, who is a -sticker. We’ll forget England and what happened there. I’ll never say I -was at Dartmoor. I can change my name and live the thing down. I want to -get away from the memory of that cell and those guards and the sneaking -servants of the law. I want the open places where I can see the stars.” - -She softened her glance perceptibly. He swept her slender form. Her -skirt, her shoes, her waist and feather-dragging hat, were all -sea-soaked and mist-flattened. Her eyes and the jewels on her fingers -alone spoke the Saidee Isaacs of other days. - -“Come on,” he said, snatching up her hand. “There’s a trail inland and a -wide world to walk in. Let’s find a hay-mow or barn and go to sleep. -We’ll feel better when we wake up. I’m sorry about the glasses, but I -hated the thing from the beginning and now I know I was right.” - -She feared to temporize with him. He had one virtue which outweighed his -faults. She knew in his heart there was loyalty. He had never been known -to turn on a friend. - -“I still hate you,” she said. “I’ll always hate you for what you did -with the glasses. Perhaps we can get them. I want to remember this -place.” - -Turning, she stared out over the shelf of rock and widened her eyes for -landmarks. There was an island which loomed through the mist. There was -an opposite point of dark crags. The inlet at her left hand would be -marked on a good chart of that coast. - -He went on up the pathway and waited for her. His coat was drawn over -his body. His cap was pulled far down upon his head. He twisted a button -with long white fingers which were slightly stained with oakum. It was -the brand of Dartmoor. - -“We’ll go,” he said as she stepped to his side, “over the ridge and down -into the lowland. I’m dead for sleep. We better avoid the main roads -until I get my senses. Dutch Gus or some of the others of his gang may -have landed. They’ll notify the Germans. Come on, Saidee, buck up, and -don’t look so doleful!” - -She flushed and followed him. He helped her now and then over the rough -places. They came to a cleft in the rock. Through this opening a vista -was to be had of a sloping highland which disappeared within the gray -mists which rose from a long, straight canal. - -Fay pointed toward a windmill whose arms were still. A huge barn and -hay-rick showed at the junction of two fences. Cattle grazed on the damp -grass. - -“We’ll make that,” he said, pointing toward the hay-mow. “I must have -sleep—I’m hardly myself.” - -An Airedale, with an erect tail and a burr-clustered hide, came running -up to them as they reached the fence. He sniffed at Fay’s coat, then -stared at the girl with a wise cant to his head. - -“He’ll stand watch,” said the cracksman. “I’ll bet he thinks we’re -refugees from Germany.” - -She twisted her rings and glanced over the farm. There was nobody in -sight. A pale feather of smoke rose from a chimney. Pans and churns -stood outside the kitchen of a stone house. It was a picture of Holland -comfort set in a winding mist. - -Fay reached the hay-mow and pointed toward an opening. “Crawl in there,” -he said. “I’ll find another suite. Wake me when you wake. I must have -sleep.” - -She laughed almost hysterically. “With these rings?” she asked turning -toward the farm-house. “Are we safe?” - -“In Holland, yes,” yawned Fay, covering his mouth with his right hand. -“They don’t lock the doors in this country—an old crook told me who -ought to know. Good-night, Saidee!” - -He stooped, patted the dog, then rounded the hay-mow. There was a second -opening which had evidently been made by cattle feeding. There were -marks of hoofs about it. Fay crawled within the hay, rolled over, -covered his face with his arm and started reviewing the events of the -day. He dozed with half-thoughts trooping through his brain. He woke, -hours later, turned on his side, listened, then backed out from his -cramped position. The mist had cleared. The stars were out. A light -shone in the farm-house window. The dog was still on guard. - -Fay rubbed his eyes and rounded the hay-mow. - -Saidee Isaacs’s shoes were all he saw at first. He seized a foot and -shook it gently. She squirmed out to him, sat erect, then glanced back -toward the opening. - -“Get my hat,” she said. “I hope you’re satisfied,” she added hotly. “I -didn’t sleep a wink. I waited for you all afternoon.” - -“Like a good pal,” he smiled. - -“No—like a fool!” - -He shrugged his shoulders. “Politics and crime,” he said, “make strange -companions. I’m feeling fit, now, and you’re ready to fight. Let’s go on -to the nearest town, get some coffee and whatever else they have, then -take the trail to Stavanger.” - -“You can go to Stavanger! I’m going to London—first train! I’ve a house -there—a motor—and self-respect. If I follow you, I’ll find myself in -the—in another hay-mow.” - -He watched her attempts to pin her hat on her head. She jabbed the only -remaining hat-pin through the crown at least a score of times. She -tightened her lips as she stared at him. - -“What are you laughing at?” she asked suddenly. “It isn’t a bit funny. -I’m supposed to have some self-respect. I think I’ve lost it all.” - -Fay crammed his hands deep within his pockets and bent his knees. He -shook his head slightly. There was the thin ghost of a smile on his -face. - -“Oh, say now!” he said. “It’s better to wake up in a pile of hay than in -a stony cell. I thought I was back in Dartmoor till I smelled the -clover.” - -She lowered her hands from her hat and stared at her rings. Her fingers -strayed over her skirt and finished by a swift brush at the hem. She -straightened and tried to return his smile. - -“I’m hungry!” she said savagely. “I’m hungry and I don’t care who knows -it. Let’s go to that farm-house and knock. I’ll kill you for this!” - -Fay burst into an uproar of mirth. “Lady Isaacs, and look at you!” he -retorted. “Suppose Sir Richard should see you now!” - -She glanced at her shoes ruefully. She stamped one foot, then stared at -the dog. Her eyes swung upward toward Fay’s lips. - -“I insist,” she said, “that we go to that house and get something to -eat. I must wash my hands and brush myself off.” - -“I’ll go, Saidee. You stay right here. It wouldn’t do for both of us to -be seen at this time of night. I’ll say I was wrecked on the coast. Then -we can go on into some town.” - -Fay swung and started off toward the light in the farm-house. He was -preceded by the Airedale, who barked once, leaped up the steps and -scratched on the kitchen-door. - -A broad-faced Hollander of the better sort peered out. To him, Fay -offered two shillings for sandwiches. The man was joined by a woman who -understood some English. She pressed back the shillings, took command, -beckoned Fay inside the neatest kitchen he had ever seen, and there -bustled about until a package of food was wrapped up and handed to him. - -“Thanks,” he said, thrusting it under his coat. “I’m a thousand times -obliged. Now can you tell me the way to the railroad? The chemin de -fer?” - -“Der Bahnhof?” asked the burger in German. - -“Yes,” said Fay. “By all means, yes!” - -The man went to the door, and pointed toward a road which crossed the -canal at a sharp angle. His finger steadied in an easterly direction. He -glanced at Fay. - -“I understand,” said the cracksman, shifting the bundle of sandwiches -under his arm. “That way? I’m much obliged! Thanks, good frau,” he added -gallantly. “I guess there’s queer people knock on Holland doors these -days—but none queerer than myself. Good-by!” - -Fay hurried through the gloom. He turned once and saw the couple, who -seemed to be childless, standing in the oval light of the open door. At -their feet sat the dog, his intelligent head held sideways. - -Saidee Isaacs was waiting behind the hay-mow. To her, Fay handed the -package of sandwiches. - -“I know the way to the railroad station,” he said. “We’ll eat as we -walk. We can get something to drink in the canal or a brook. It’s pot -luck, Saidee, till we reach civilization.” - -They crossed the canal by a narrow bridge and descended to the eastern -bank. A white road showed which struck inland through the mist. Barns -and windmills loomed over the top of well-kept hedges. A wagon passed -which was drawn by oxen. The sleepy driver turned and watched the -unusual vision that had attracted him. - -Suddenly Fay stopped and stared at the girl. A light shone ahead. A -whistle had sounded. A roar was in the air of a train streaking through -the night. - -“I think we can get a train north from there,” Fay said, pointing toward -the light. “We’ll go to Delfzijl, at the mouth of the Ems, and from -there we’ll get a boat to Stavanger or some port in Norway.” - -She glanced back, then turned toward him. - -“I’ll get a train south,” she said. “There is no use arguing. My mind is -set!” - -Fay smiled and hooked his right arm within the cove of her own. “You’re -coming with me, Saidee,” he commanded. “You’re coming for a good reason, -too. That sleep did me a world of good. You were right about those -glasses. I shouldn’t have thrown them into the sea. There’s something in -them—after all.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“I mean that a woman’s intuition was better than a man’s judgment. I -thought they were a trifle. Perhaps they were—but there’s a big doubt.” - -“Don’t talk in riddles. What have you discovered?” - -He stared about the road and then pointed toward the light. - -“We’ll move fast,” he said. “We must go to Stavanger and find if -Ace-in-the-hole Harry—his right name is Harry Raymond—is there, or if he -has taken a boat for the States.” - -She stared at him as if he had gone insane. - -“I never heard of such a man or such a name. The idea of going to -Stavanger to see an individual called that! Why, Chester!” - -“That’s right,” he said, “jump at conclusions. Now you’re wrong and I -was wrong. Ace-in-the-hole Harry is the king of the deep-sea Greeks. He -knows more about card manipulation than any man living. He is working -the boats and the pigeons and the new flock of commercial travelers who -have gold. He can rob a man at poker or at fan-tan. He can deal seconds -or hold out three aces. I saw him in the smoking-room of the Flushing, -coming over to Holland. From there he was going to Stavanger. I heard -him say so.” - -“Do you think I would associate with him?” - -“Yes—when I tell you he wore smoked-glasses exactly like the pair I -threw away!” - -She flushed and held herself back. She broke away from him and flashed -an arch glance of query. - -“What do you mean?” she asked. “What have his glasses got to do with the -cipher-key?” - -“That, I don’t know. All I do know is, there’s something rotten in -Holland or Denmark when a man can do what he did with those glasses on. -He knew every card. He trimmed a gull without half trying. There’s a -connection between the smoked-glasses and the cipher. I’m sure of that -now. Will you go with me to Stavanger and help look up Harry Raymond? We -can get in a game with him and try to find out how he does it. He’s -clever enough to think of most everything.” - -“You should have mentioned that before,” she said, grasping his arm. “It -is a clue, Chester. I’ll go to Stavanger.” - -The road led through a patch of marshy ground, over a stile, across a -rising lea-land, and then upon a railroad embankment which stretched -north and south as straight as a ruler. - -Fay studied the rails, then led the way toward the switch-points and an -empty goods train which had been shunted from the main line. The -tarpaulins of this train were dripping with moisture. The train crew had -gone up the metals to the low, stone-built station. A green light -gleamed from a signal-arm. - -“Looks like a way station in Kansas,” said Fay as he helped the girl -climb to a high platform. “We ought to see a tin-star marshal standing -round chewing on a straw.” - -A sleepy-eyed operator was in the office. He raised the tiny frosted -window as Fay knocked with his knuckles on the glass. Two of a train -crew stirred from the benches in the waiting-room. They sat erect and -stared across the gloom. - -“I want to go to Delfzijl,” said Fay to the operator and clerk. “I think -you pronounce it that way,” he added keenly. “This lady and I must go!” - -A guard lumbered across the room and spoke rapidly in Dutch to the -operator. He turned to Fay. - -“You’ll get a train in one hour,” he said in fair English. “The matter -will be a simple one, sir. How came you in this part of Holland?” - -“I might ask you the same question,” said Fay good-naturedly. “You have -the first American voice I’ve heard in some time.” - -“American, no! Alberta, yes,” grinned the goods-train guard. “I spent -three years in the Canadian wheat countries.” - -Fay booked passage by passing through the tiny window enough British -gold to take an entire first-class compartment. He went outside and -pulled a low truck within the shelter of the platform. He waited until -Saidee Isaacs had seated herself. Then he said: - -“The game starts, Saidee! I hope we’re on the right scent. I wonder what -peculiar property is in the smoked-glasses Harry Raymond wears? They -certainly help him win—at cards.” - -“A double glass or something hidden in the lenses,” she suggested. - -“Something hidden, yes!” said Fay. “Something hidden—go and find it,” he -quoted thoughtfully. - -The goods-train crew, who were evidently awaiting the coming of the -north-bound train, stirred finally. They came out yawning, glanced at -the two wanderers on the truck, then crossed the tracks in the direction -of their train which was headed by a squat, open-cab locomotive. - -A cone of white fire burst through the fog. A rumble and a whistle -echoed over the moorlands. The train came to a grinding pause as Fay -grasped Saidee Isaacs by the arm and ran down the station platform in -the direction of the single first-class carriage. - -They stood on the running-board as the train started. - -Fay jerked a door open and helped the girl inside. She sank back on -shiny leather cushions and breathed a long sigh of relief. She was -glancing at herself in a mirror when the guard came along for the -tickets. Fay asked him concerning the boat which met the train. It would -be there, the guard explained with many gestures, but its first port of -call was Christiansand instead of Stavanger. - -Fay nodded his head. The guard closed the door. The trip, with Saidee -Isaacs huddled into one corner of the compartment, her eyes closed and -her hat down over her face, was made without accident. Now and then Fay -peered out at the landscape. It was mostly lowland and dykes and the -ever-prevailing windmills which seemed so characteristic of Holland. - -Delfzijl was reached just before dawn, and this allowed ample time to -connect with the boat. Fay purchased clean linen and gloves for the girl -and himself. They went up the gangplank of the Romsdal—a North Sea and -Skagerrack boat with impossible cuisine and soiled cabins. - -Hurtled northward, the passage took all the day and the better portion -of the following night. The few passengers were totally uninteresting. -Fay spoke to all of them. He had difficulty in making himself -understood. One, only, a commercial traveler out of England, named -Fairhold, showed interest in the cracksman’s questions. - -He boxed the events since the signing of peace like a mariner going over -the compass points. He showed the trend of affairs commercial. He dwelt, -in his heavy, drawling voice, on traffic and trafficking—on the silent -embargo against all things German—on the bitter needs of the North -Countries in cotton and rubber and wool. - -Fay led to the dye question and received a blank stare. The man, who -proved to be from Nottingham, did not handle print-goods or calicos or -hosiery. Not handling them, he knew nothing about them. He explained -confidentially that he was interested solely in brass hair-pins and -wire-goods. Fay saw no reason at all for keeping this a deep secret. - -“That hair-pin drummer,” he told Saidee Isaacs as he knocked on the door -of her cabin and was admitted, “says there’s a train to Stavanger which -goes at daylight. He also declares that the big boats leave Arendal for -the States. What shall we do? Perhaps we’ll find Harry Raymond at -Arendal instead of Stavanger.” - -“Can we try both?” she asked. - -“I think so. We’ll go to the nearest big port—Arendal. If he isn’t -there, we’ll cross Norway during the day and try Stavanger. He had a -cockney stall with him. I’d know either man in a million. Harry has a -drawl like a music-hall performer. He’s an American crook who apes the -English. They always overdo it.” - -She showed him her hat after smiling faintly. The plumes had dried and -were presentable. Her ruching was pressed and turned. Her shoes had been -touched up with the corner of a towel and some polish supplied by the -deck-steward. - -He studied her hair—blue-black, coiled from right to left—before she -placed her hat on her head. Her lashes matched her hair to the -fraction-shade. Her olive eyes held the faint suggestion of the -Oriental—particularly in their inscrutable droop. - -“You look splendid!” he declared with admiration. “I’m glad you changed -your mind about coming north. I think—candidly, we’re going to find out -something from Harry Raymond. He won’t talk to me—or tell me -anything—but he don’t know you. You have a clever way that’ll get -through his guard. Perhaps he’ll play Banker and Broker with you. It’s -an easy game to trim a gull with.” - -“Gull?” Her brows raised to polite arches of inquiry at the argot. - -“I mean pigeon,” he said, hardly making matters better. “He’ll play you -for one, if you act right and don’t overact.” - -“You seem confident that we’ll run across him.” - -“He only works the big ports and the fast boats. He’s sure to be in -Arendal or Stavanger. Or else he’s on the ocean.” - -She rose from the bunk and switched out her light. “Let’s go on deck,” -she said, pressing open the door and glancing out. “There’s the coast of -Norway, over there—so the steward says. We’ll soon be in port.” - -Fay leaned over the rail and studied the dark shadow toward which the -ship was plunging. He wondered what fortune lay in the path he had -chosen. - -Events moved swiftly enough after the ship docked. Fay called a carriage -and was driven rapidly to the railroad station, where he learned that a -train would leave within ten minutes for Arendal. - -Daylight, which came early, was breaking as the tiny locomotive puffed -into the great Skagerrack Port where boats could be taken for a score of -points—including the States. - -One huge ship was in sight. Its long row of deck lights had not been -extinguished. Lighters were alongside loading coal and a general cargo. -A few all-night passengers were standing near the taffrail. - -“She leaves at sun-down,” the station-master told Fay after he had -inquired. “You can book passage on Nordland Street.” - -Fay turned toward the girl. “We’ll ride around,” he said, “and look over -the hotel registers. I’d know our friend Harry’s writing if I ever saw -it. There’ll be a Count or a Duke or an M.P. or a mere Lord in front of -it. He never played a small game.” - -Their search, carried well into the afternoon, was almost without -result. One clerk recalled seeing such a couple as Fay described—a tall -Englishman with a monocle or smoked-glasses, and a cockney who wore as -many buttons as a coster-monger. - -The direction which they had taken from the hotel might have been to the -railroad station or to the docks. Fay wasted time searching for a -definite clue. It was only when the hoarse blare of the great siren on -the ship announced its immediate departure that he acted on the last -chance. - -He grasped the girl’s arm and hurried her to the booking-office of the -steamship line where a surly clerk had refused to show him the passenger -list of the Drammen—the one ship in port. - -“Two tickets to Stavanger,” he said. “I understand the Drammen puts in -there.” He turned his lapel and showed the silver greyhound. - -The clerk tossed out two first-class tickets, then opened the safe for -change of the Bank of England note Fay had pressed forward. - -Ten minutes later they were being rowed out to the Drammen. The -landing-stage was being drawn up as the boat rounded a towering stern -and swung alongside the rusty plates. The stage dropped with a splash. -Fay tossed the boatman some silver coins and assisted the girl up the -steep climb. He passed through the rail and found a cabin-steward. - -“Stavanger!” he said commandingly. “Two first-class cabins for that -port. I don’t know whether the booking-clerk gave me good cabins—but I -want them!” - -The girl followed the steward as the stage came up and the screw -thrashed astern. Fay glided forward and glanced into the smoking-room. -No one was there. There was no sign of Harry Raymond or his companion on -the decks. He searched them all. - -It was at the captain’s table, during the dinner hour, that there -appeared two figures which once seen could never be forgotten. Fay had -taken the precaution to interpose a Norwegian traveler between himself -and Saidee Isaacs. - -He coughed and attracted her attention. She lifted a glass of water from -the rack and glanced coolly over its edge. She, too, studied the two men -who had taken designated seats at the purser’s table. - -Harry Raymond was resplendent in a Bond Street creation of shepherd -plaid and a fancy vest. An insignia dangled from a ribbon across his -waist. His eyes were hidden behind a great pair of smoked-glasses. His -voice drawled across the dining saloon like a prime minister’s or a -cabinet member’s. His companion was the horsey-looking cockney who had -aided in trimming the Yorkshire squire on the Flushing. - -Fay did not glance in their direction during the meal. He rose before -Saidee Isaacs had finished eating. He passed to the deck and leaned over -the rail at the after end of the boat-deck. Below him was the square -block of a hatch crowned with a fan-shaped derrick-mast. Over this mast -loomed the jack-staff with the Norwegian Merchant Flag flying. - -Astern glowed the phosphor of a restless sea divided by the white wake -of the ship. The dark coast of Norway showed like a cloud bank on the -starboard beam. Fay turned and stared at this highland. Hours passed -with him in the same position. Passengers strolled upon the deck. The -stewards appeared with steamer chairs and heavy wraps. The twin funnels -of the boat flared from the inner fires. The single screw jiggled and -thrashed. The stars came out and torched the overhead velvet. - -Suddenly quick footsteps glided to his side. Saidee Isaacs turned and -glanced forward as she laid a hand on his wrist. She closed her fingers -and clutched with hot strength. - -“It’s all right,” she whispered without turning her head. “I flirted -with him and found out any number of things. He and his companion are -going to New York. This ship reaches Stravanger at sun-up. He’s still -wearing the smoked-glasses, Chester.” - -“How about a card game?” - -“All fixed, Chester. He’ll start one in a few minutes. He’s invited me -to join him at Bridge. My partner will be a stupid Russian with plenty -of money. He’s the one who sat next to the captain.” - -“Where do you play?” - -“In the Ladies’ Saloon. There’s a port-hole just over where I’ll insist -that Harry Raymond sits. He’s supposed to be the Right Honorable -Frederick Lonsdale—this passage.” - -“I’ll be at that port-hole,” replied Fay. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE LONG ARM - - -Saidee Isaacs lifted her hand from Fay’s arm, swung with the movement of -the ship, then hurried forward toward the direction of the Ladies’ -Saloon where the game of Bridge was scheduled. - -Fay watched her vanish in the glow of the deck-lights. He saw a door -open and then close. A shaft of mellow fire struck out onto the rail and -the crisscrossed waves. It vanished. The long deck was deserted. - -The cracksman crammed his hands into the side pockets of his overcoat, -fished out a cigarette and lighted it by the quick scratch of a match on -his heel. His eyes were useless over the period of a minute. Gradually -sight and clear vision came to him. He removed the cigarette and stared -at its glowing end. He pasted it to his lower lip and started around to -the port side of the ship. - -Passengers were seated there to the number of a score or more. They were -crouched in sheltered chairs or between the ventilators and the outswung -boats. A regulation was still in effect regarding these. German mines, -so profusely distributed during the period of the war, might be -encountered at any moment. Many ships had been lost in the same waters. - -Fay reached midship and the shelter of a ladder which led upward to the -hurricane deck. He drew out his watch, held it sideways toward a -luminous port-hole and stared at the dial. Saidee Isaacs had ample time -to arrange the setting for the bridge game. It should be well in -progress. - -He moved slowly forward as if seeking shelter. He reached the first of -the port-holes which marked the Ladies’ Saloon. These were partly -curtained with many-colored silks. - -Glancing inside, Fay saw a group of passengers about an upright piano. A -singer stood at one end of the piano. She held a sheet of music in her -hand. Beyond her, and close up to the sheathing of the cabin, an alcove -showed within which sat Saidee Isaacs, a stout Russian, the cockney -stall and Harry Raymond, whose back was turned from Fay’s view. - -Fay glided to the nearest port-hole, leaned back, surveyed the deck, -then tossed his cigarette away and gradually thrust his head toward the -round disc of the port-glass. - -The view inside held all the charm of eavesdropping. The warm colors of -the Saloon, the tinkling notes of the piano, the woman’s rather faded -voice—that echoed within the surge and hiss of the sea—wove a spell. - -Fay narrowed his eyes and studied the cards which were held in the -sharper’s hand. He glanced at the table and the exposed dummy. He -mentally caught the fortunes of the game by the expression of rage on -the face of the Russian and the soft, slow smile of Saidee Isaacs. - -The points were shilling ones and the stakes rather high. Harry Raymond -had evidently doubled the shilling point on every occasion. He played -into his partner’s hand, took the lead and finished the round by -collecting twelve out of thirteen tricks. - -The Russian, who had dealt and lost, stared at the sharper with a savage -bristling of his beard. Saidee glanced up and into Fay’s eyes where they -were glued to the glass of the port-hole. She made no sign save to rub -her brow thoughtfully. Fay studied the sharper’s back and the great bows -of the glasses he wore. There was no chance to peer through the lenses. - -The game went on with Harry Raymond and his partner winning as if the -backs of the cards were open books to them. - -Fay, himself, wondered at this exhibition of uncanny skill. He furrowed -his brows and drew his head away from the port-hole. He went over all -the things he had ever heard concerning card-manipulation. A vision came -to him of a table at “Jimmy’s,” in London, and a conversation between -two deep-sea card players. They had told of dealing seconds, and holding -out, and even of buying up the entire stock of cards on a ship and -supplying a purser with marked decks. - -The sharpers had made no false moves. The cards had most certainly been -well examined by Saidee Isaacs and the Russian. They were a popular -back, extremely hard to mark. The trick, if trick there was, lay in the -smoked-glasses worn by Harry Raymond! - -Satisfied of this fact, Fay started around the deck in order to divert -suspicion from himself. One or two passengers had passed him while he -was peering through the port-hole. - -He reached the great bay of the combined bridge and pilot-house. A fog -was sweeping in from the sea. It lay over the plunging bow of the ship -like a blanket at the foot of a bed. Toward this murky veil the course -was being held. - -A man, wrapped in a pea-jacket, came down a ladder swiftly, squinted at -a yellow tissue, then started along the starboard side of the ship. Fay -realized it was the captain, although the braid on his cap was -inconspicuous. - -He followed him until he reached a midship boat. He stood in the shelter -of this and saw a steward come forward. The two men, dimly discerned -under the yellow glow of the overhead deck-lights, were pointing toward -a cabin door. Fay started with surprise. It was his own door! - -The steward tried the brass-knob, rapped once, bent his head and -listened with his left ear to the panel. He straightened and shook his -head as the captain struck the tissue with impatient knuckles. - -An oath in Norwegian rolled along the ship. Fay came out from the shadow -of the boat and sauntered forward. He rounded the bay of the pilot-house -and hurried aft without glancing back. He stood, finally, at the rail -which overlooked the stern of the vessel. - -His brain worked swiftly and toward one point. The captain had received -a wireless message. The message concerned himself. For no other reason -would the steward have knocked on the door of the cabin. - -The context of this message might prove embarrassing. Scotland Yard had -a long arm. It had dragged him out of a Dartmoor cell. It had pressed -him on in the mission to Holland. Now, perhaps, it was reaching again, -and this time for revenge and deeper incarceration. - -Fay smiled with thin bitterness. He was on the eve of a discovery. The -captain might make an arrest at any moment. Visions of chains and -“brigs” and well-guarded cabins came to him. He stared forward where he -had last seen the captain. - -The fog had been reached. It wreathed the ship in clammy folds. The -spars, the rails, the outswung boats, the white life-preservers, were -dripping with yellow drops. The siren blared its warning signal. The -knife-like bow of the ship slit through the curtain like a sabre through -cloth. - -Hurtling onward, the ship seemed a shadow within a shadow. The hissing -waves under the counter, the thrash of the single screw, the clank of -shovels on the stoke-hold plates— heard through the ventilators—all -drove a resolve within Fay’s breast. He cursed the day he had ever heard -of the cipher or the cipher-key. He wanted freedom and a shielding -distance away from the menacing hand of the Yard. He decided to crawl -into a life-boat, draw the tarpaulin, and remain there until he could -signal to Saidee Isaacs. He reached upward and lifted himself to the -blocks of the after port boat whose davits were swung outboard. - -The stiff canvas was laced by stout rope-yarn. It would have to be cut -in order to lift a flap sufficiently large enough to crawl through. He -reached for his knife. He turned his head at a sound which was blown -from forward. He sprang down and leaned over the rail in an attitude of -deep contemplation of the sea and fog. - -Saidee Isaacs glided to his side. She pressed her hat against his cap as -she said tersely: - -“I only got away from the game for a minute. I can’t make it out. Here’s -a deck of the cards which we were using. Look them over, Chester. They -seem all right. I have got to put the deck back or it will be missed.” - -“His glasses?” asked Fay. “What kind are they? I couldn’t see from the -port-hole.” - -“They’re very thick and smoky.” Saidee Isaacs glanced apprehensively -forward. “They’re thick, Chester. I can hardly see his eyes through -them. He said that they had been weakened by a mustard-gas attack at -Ypres.” - -Fay rapidly scanned the back of the cards, then turned them over and -held them toward the light from a deck-bulb. - -“He never was nearer Ypres than London or Calais,” he said, shuffling -the deck by a practiced motion. “He’s an awful liar!” - -The girl clutched his sleeve and narrowed her dark eyes. “Hurry!” she -said. “Is there anything wrong with the cards? He’s won three hundred -pounds from that Russian. How does he do it?” - -Fay bunched the cards and ran his fingers over their edges. He replaced -them in the box and handed the box back to the girl. - -“I don’t know,” he said, glancing squarely at her. “There’s nothing -wrong with the cards—no edge-work, no marking on the back, no -pin-pricks. The light’s good here. I didn’t see a thing wrong. It’s in -the glasses he wears.” - -She started away and toward the bow. - -“Wait!” - -She grasped the rail and turned. “What is it?” she asked. “I must hurry -back. It was my dummy—that’s why I came.” - -Fay reached in his pocket and whipped out a cigarette. He lighted it -with cool fingers holding the match. He jerked his head toward the -pilot-house and the fog-wreathed bow. - -“The captain has a wireless message of some kind. He tried to find me in -my cabin. The steward knocked. They’re looking over the ship for me now. -Something has gone wrong. They wouldn’t do that unless there was a -rumble.” - -“Rumble?” - -“Yes! I’m discovered! The Yard has wirelessed the ship. We were trailed -aboard—you and I.” - -“It can’t be, Chester.” - -“It’s true! There’s no other reason for the skipper’s looking for me. -He’ll probably lock me up if he finds me. I’m going to hide in this -boat. You find out what you can about the smoked-glasses. I’ll stay here -till you come back.” - -She twisted the deck of cards in her fingers and narrowed her eyes. Her -lips hardened slightly. Anxiety showed in the corners of her mouth. - -“Are you sure?” she asked. - -“Certain! Get back to the game. Don’t excite any suspicion. Find out -what you can and keep me posted. We’re pals! I’m not going to stand for -a pinch—if I can help it. You can give out later that I jumped -overboard. I’ll leave some clothes on the deck. MacKeenon is not going -to get me back to London. My one chance is to hide until you get the -information concerning the glasses from Harry Raymond. Then we can -breathe easier.” - -“Get into the boat,” she whispered. “Stay there till I come. I did see -the captain and a steward looking around the Ladies’ Saloon.” - -“You better not go back then.” - -“Yes, I must; perhaps I’ll discover the secret of glasses,” said Saidee -Isaacs. - -Fay waited until she had vanished in the mist. He reached upward for a -second time, grasped a block and sprang to the rail. He cut two strands -of rope-yarn, unreaved it, and climbed within the outswung boat. He drew -close the flap of canvas. There were a water-keg and a box of ship’s -biscuits, crammed among a full set of oars and paddles. He moved about -and found a reclining place. He pillowed his head on a cross-seat which -was as hard as the shelf he slept on in Dartmoor. - -Time passed—perhaps thirty minutes. He had no mark of the hour. He -puzzled his brain for some way out of the situation. There seemed none. -The captain was most certainly searching for him. The stewards and -deck-stewards had been notified. The wireless operator was undoubtedly -in touch with the shore stations as well as with Great Britain. - -The ship would touch at Stavanger for a brief period. It would be -daylight or nearly so, unless the fog thickened. Fay saw scant chance of -getting ashore. He had the silver greyhound, but this insignia might -prove an identification mark instead of a passport. - -The monotonous blare of the fog-horn, forward, and the occasional blast -from the deep-throated siren held his nerves at the breaking strain. He -was cramped, cold and bitter. Footsteps along the deck served to -irritate him. He wanted to smoke and feared the consequences. - -There came a tap of a thrown object upon the canvas boat-cover. He -waited and heard a mellow voice reciting: - - “Thy towers, they say, gleam fair— - Bombay across the deep, blue sea.” - -He lifted the canvas flap and peered out. Saidee Isaacs was leaning over -the rail. She glanced upward and bobbed the feathers of her hat. - -Fay climbed out of the boat and sprang down to her side. - -“Well?” he asked incisively. - -“He’s in his cabin, now. The game broke up when the Russian turned over -his last kopeck. He had some pearls, but your friend Harry didn’t want -them. I never saw such a game of Bridge in my life!” - -Fay stared at her lips. A fine smile of retrospection was upon them. The -droop to her eyes was inscrutable. She flushed suddenly and turned from -the rail. - -“You’ll have to be careful,” she said warningly. “The stewards are -looking for someone. They’ve been everywhere. I saw a man standing in -front of your door. He’s waiting!” - -Fay glanced up at the boat. “What about the smoked-glasses?” he asked. - -“They’re still smoked! I never saw his eyes. He’s a deep one. I tried to -talk to him after we left the saloon. He said ‘Good-night, old dear,’ -and left me.” - -“But you found out something?” - -“Not a thing, Chester. He simply knew every single card in the game. He -saw right through them. He is the most terrible man on the ocean. I -lost—” - -“How much?” asked Fay as he waited for her to finish. - -“I lost thirty-two or three pounds. The Russian bet on the side. That’s -how he happened to pull out the pearls.” - -“What cabin is Raymond in?” - -“It’s on this deck—about midships. The awful cockney is next door to -him. What are you going to do?” - -Fay gripped her arm. “I’m going to have it out with him,” he said. “I’ll -stick him up and get the glasses. They have some property of revealing -what ordinary eyes cannot see. How else could he read the backs of the -cards? How else can the cipher be read?” - -She bobbed her head and fastened upon him the fine scrutiny of a -pal-in-arms. He studied her keenly and then glanced over her shoulder. -The fog blotted out all view of the sea and stars. The ship was plunging -on toward Stavanger. The deck, as far as he could see, was deserted. It -glistened in a long lane of shining moisture. - -Suddenly she asked: - -“Did he wear smoked-glasses when you knew him in the old days?” - -“No—his eyes were as good as mine, Saidee.” - -“How long ago was that?” - -“Five—six years. I saw him on a Blue Funnel liner out of Southampton. He -didn’t wear glasses then.” - -“It’s a new trick,” she said. “It’s uncanny.” - -“Are they the same kind of lenses as were in the pair I threw into the -sea? The same bows and color?” - -“The glass is the same—almost opaque! I didn’t get a very good look at -the ones you tossed away.” - -“They were almost black. I guess they are the same. We’ll have to get -his pair if we want to appease Sir Richard and the Yard. I’ll get into -his cabin and have it out with him. Perhaps he’ll tell me the secret. If -he don’t—” - -Fay paused and closed his lips in a straight line. His eyes swung -forward and away from the girl. His hand dropped to his pocket. It came -out with the tiny revolver nestled in his palm. - -“If he don’t,” he continued, “I’ll use this gun. I think he’s yellow -when it comes to a scare.” - -“The cabin door may be locked.” - -“You go and knock. Tell him who it is. I’ll break in as soon as he opens -the door. You can stand guard while I get the glasses. Afterwards -doesn’t matter. It’s now or never, Saidee! My freedom may depend on -getting those glasses. Something is going to happen on this ship. -They’re looking very sharply for me, and you know what that means.” - -“Dartmoor?” - -“Yes! Sir Richard and his jackals have picked up the trail. They could -hardly miss it. We were careless at Arendal. We booked passage on this -ship, after showing the silver greyhound. Any clerk would remember -this.” Fay fingered the insignia on his left lapel. “There’s not many -like it,” he added. - -“Take it off.” - -“No, I’ll stick to it. It may serve, yet.” - -She glanced forward along the deck. Turning toward him, she said: - -“I have a few of the cards with me. The Russian tore up a deck in his -rage at losing. I’ll lead the way to the cabin. When I cough—you come.” - -He followed her forward with his hand gripped upon the butt of the -little silver-plated revolver. The cabins occupied by Harry Raymond and -his cockney tool were upon the deck below the boat deck. Saidee Isaacs -turned at a ladder, grasped the hand-rail, and went down backwards—like -a good sailor. - -The deck they both reached was misted and deserted. Four bells had -struck, forward. The lights were out in the saloons. The lookouts and -watch on deck were crouched in the shelter of the ventilators and boats. - -Saidee glided swiftly over the planks, stared at a number upon a -cabin-door, then stepped to the next. She knocked with light tapping. -She repeated the signal. She bent her head and listened. Fay braced -himself behind a ladder and waited. He saw her straighten suddenly. The -cabin door was slid open. A man, in pajamas and slippers, thrust his -head out and stared at her. - -“Get them up!” said Fay, springing toward the door. “All the way up, -Harry, alias Ace-in-the-hole, alias some other things. I want to see -you! Look out, Saidee.” - -Fay was the master of the hour. He took no chances. The tiny revolver -was thrust up and under the sharper’s chin. The level eyes of the -cracksman snapped dangerously. Blue light seemed to leap from their -depths. - -“What to hell?” stuttered the cardsharper. “What does this mean?” he -added, forgetting his English drawl. - -“It means, come clean!” - -“Clean of what?” - -“Those glasses you are wearing!” Fay pressed his left hand against the -pink expanse of the sharper’s shoulder and shoved him back into the -cabin. - -“Stand watch!” he said to Saidee Isaacs. “Let me know if anybody shows -up on the deck.” - -He sprang inside the cabin and towered over the swindler, who had fallen -back to the bunk in a shivering protest. Fay darted a glance about the -cabin. It was simple enough. A wash-stand was built in the corner. There -was a long, flat trunk under the bunk. Clothes and a cap hung on the -back of a half-stool, half-chair. - -“Where’s the smoked-glasses?” asked Fay. “Where did you plant them? I -want them in three seconds, Harry. One!” - -The sharper moistened his lips and glanced out through the cabin door. -The girl stood there in an attitude of listening. Her face was turned -forward and over the port quarter. Her eyes glowed with suppressed fire. -A shout had sounded from the pilot-house. The wheel had been swung as -much as three degrees. The ship had reeled and then darted on through -the folds of the sea fog. - -Fay warily turned and stared at the girl. He stepped toward the door. A -shot, muffled and far to the southward, boomed through the night. It was -repeated with sullen tones. The ship was signaled to stop! - -A door opened next to the cabin occupied by Harry Raymond. The cockney -thrust out a long nose and a curious pair of eyes. He stared first out -and over the ship’s rail. He turned his head and blinked at Saidee -Isaacs. He saw Fay’s alert form in the doorway. Recognizing him, he -ducked back into his own cabin and drew shut the door. - -“A fine pal,” said the cracksman, brandishing the revolver. “You picked -a nice one, Harry. Come clean with the glasses or I’ll count two and -then three.” - -“I haven’t got them,” stuttered the sharper. “Honest to God, Fay, -they’re in the other cabin. Old Vic has them. I let him keep them after -a game. Y’ never can tell how people will squeak.” - -Fay shot a keen glance at the man’s face. It was the color of dough—and -blue-veined. Fear and weakness had loosened his lips. His teeth showed -under a tawny mustache. His hands clutched the edge of the bunk. His -knees knocked together. - -“You’re lying!” snapped Fay. - -“I’m not, pal. I wouldn’t lie to you. Cocky has the glasses.” - -“What’s the trick? How do you read the cards with them?” - -The sharper hesitated. He was on the point of speaking when a third shot -echoed through the fog. A solid projectile screeched over the white -boats on the hurricane-deck of the ship. A shudder passed from stem to -stern. The great vessel had reversed its propeller. Saidee leaned aft -and Fay was thrown against the side of the cabin. Shouting and the -hoarse orders of the mates resounded. The fog was ripped in one place to -port. Through the gap the fine prow and the belching funnels of a -British destroyer of the superclass leaped. She bore down and rounded -the ship’s bow like a skater on ice. Four flags were flung to her bridge -signal-halliards. A callow lieutenant-commander in oil-skins and a -sou’wester held a battered speaking-trumpet to his beardless lips. -Beside him stood a man in a plaid overcoat and cap. - -The ship came to a stop with a popping of safety-valves and steam -pluming from the pipe aft her funnel. The captain leaned from the ledge -of the wheel-house, grasped a stay, and shouted to the lieutenant who -had skillfully maneuvered the destroyer to a point on the port waist -after rounding the ship’s stern. - -“What do you want?” rolled over the waves. - -The lieutenant lowered his speaking-trumpet and turned to the man in the -plaid overcoat. They both were bathed in the yellow light which streamed -from the actinic fog-projector mounted on top of the pilot-house of the -ship. - -The commander of the destroyer turned, wiped the dripping end of his -trumpet with a bare palm, and shouted: - -“We want two of your passengers. You got our wireless? We had -hell—finding you. You know the two?” - -“The woman is here!” hoarsely boomed the captain. “We can’t find the -man, yet.” - -The lieutenant turned to the figure at his side. They both dipped and -rose with the movement of the destroyer. The crew were on deck. Faces -appeared at the head of the engine-room companion. Two forms crouched at -the seven-inch bow gun. - -“I’m coming aboard!” shouted the commander. “Hold your headway—no more! -Give her quarter speed! We’ll see about that fellow!” - -Saidee Isaacs grasped Fay’s sleeve. “Get into the boat,” she said, -pointing toward the ladder which led to the upper deck. “Hurry, -Chester!” - -Fay pocketed the revolver, shot a final glance at the mute figure of the -sharper in the cabin, then he leaped for the ladder. Up this he went -until he had reached the upper-deck. He started aft, keeping in the -shelter of the boats and ventilators. He stopped and drew himself into a -narrow alley-way. - -Three seamen were casting off a bo’swain’s ladder. They turned and -stared forward as the mate and the captain loomed through the gloom. - -A spot-light from the destroyer swung over the ship’s upper rails and -brought out every detail. - -“Here he is,” said the first officer. “Yes, this is the man we want.” - -Fay bowed as he stepped from the alley-way. “What do you want with me?” -he asked. - -The captain pointed toward the destroyer with a steady finger. - -“They want you,” he said heavily. “England wants you for some reason. -The war is over, but England rules this sea. I’ve got to give you -up—young fellow.” - -“It’s an outrage!” said Fay. “This is a Norwegian ship. I claim the -protection of your flag.” - -The captain motioned for the crew to lower the bo’swain’s ladder. “The -lieutenant-commander will be aboard presently,” he said. “You can talk -to him. You’re a King’s messenger, aren’t you?” - -Fay showed the silver greyhound by turning back the flap of his -overcoat. - -“Who is the lady?” asked the captain, fishing in the side-pocket of his -pea-jacket and bringing forth a yellow wireless tissue. “This says a -woman and a man who wears the insignia of the King’s couriers. She’s the -one in the hat with purple feathers—isn’t she?” - -“You’ll have to ask her,” said Fay, loyally. “I claim your full -protection!” - -The captain replaced the tissue and leaned upon the rail. A small-boat, -which had been nested with others on the gray flush-deck of the -destroyer, was dancing over the waves. In the stern of this boat the -lieutenant and the man in the plaid overcoat sat. Two seamen bent to the -oars. The boat reached the ladder. It lifted and fell. It steadied as -the commander leaped the distance and grasped the lower end of the -ladder. The silent man followed him nimbly enough. They came over the -rail. - -Fay moved forward and stared into the man’s face. He recognized -MacKeenon. - -“Weil,” said the inspector, “this is a deep pleasure. Ye should o’ -expected me about this time. Why, mon, the trail ye left was a verra -broad one! A hae no doot ye thought ye were clever.” - -Fay gulped and glanced at the lieutenant-commander. “By what right,” he -asked, “does this man take me from this ship? I’m an American!” - -“Five years in Dartmoor,” said MacKeenon dryly. “A’ hae no doot it’ll be -that many more. Did ye get what ye went after?” - -The question was shot through thin lips. The pouches on the sides of the -inspector’s jaw distended and contracted. He bared his gums like a wise -old hound. His eyes narrowed to slits. - -“Did ye get it?” he repeated as his arm shot out and clutched the -cracksman’s shoulder. - -Fay jerked away and turned. Some of the passengers had come forward and -were curiously staring at him. Others peered out from the open doors of -staterooms. A bo’swain stood near by, with a long belaying-pin. He toyed -with this weapon suggestively. - -“I got it!” said Fay, turning back to MacKeenon. “Oh, yes, I got it! I -got what you sent me for. You know I got it!” - -“So does the police of that city—south and east of here. Why mon, ye -made a terrible job of it. A could have done better myself. A was -surprised, after what I expected of you. Fortunately A had that stick o’ -mine handy, or else they’d of caught ye red-handed.” - -Fay smiled with engaging warmth. “Thanks for that,” he said. “It was a -good turn, but it deserved a better. What reason have I to leave this -ship? Suppose I open my mouth and tell what I know.” - -“Ye’ll never do that!” snapped MacKeenon cautiously. “Ye’ll never -squeal—A know that to be a fact. Come on now, Chester, with me. Get your -luggage and come on. You’re under arrest!” - -The inspector threw back his coat and showed the gold insignia of -Scotland Yard. He dropped his coat lapel and pointed a steady finger -toward the destroyer whose deck was directly beneath the great ship’s -rail. - -“Come on, mon!” he ordered. - -“He’ll not go!” - -MacKeenon turned and stared forward. Saidee Isaacs had thrust herself -through the curious passengers. She glided to Fay’s side and repeated -her declaration: - -“He’ll not go!” - -“What—twa o’ them,” MacKeenon said softly. “Twa suspects on one boat. -Captain, A hae the honor of arresting them both. The lieutenant will -show his authority from the Admiralty. It was signed only yesterday. A -weary stretch of ocean we have come over. It was only by chance we held -your course in the fog. A was on the point of requesting the officer to -proceed to Stavanger.” - -The captain saw no way out of the difficulty. He turned to Fay and said -with salty vigor: - -“Get your luggage and do as they request. I’ll report the matter to my -government. England is mistress of these seas by the terms of the peace -treaties. I can’t hold my boat any longer.” - -“You’re a coward!” said Saidee Isaacs, stamping her foot on the deck. -“This man has done nothing.” - -“Weil! Weil!” MacKeenon chuckled. “Miss Isaacs has changed a wee bit -since last A saw her. She was willing to help trap a cracksman and now -she’s rounded on the Yard. A’y’l attend to her!” - -The girl turned swiftly to Fay. “We have no luggage,” she said. “We’ll -go! But never a word will we say. Remember, Chester, I will say nothing -without you being present. Remember that!” - -“A verra clever remark,” intonated MacKeenon. “Twa thieves are far worse -than one.” - -Fay followed the girl to the rail where the bo’swain’s ladder was -lashed. He assisted her to climb down until he was forced to let go her -hands. Her upturned face was close to his as he leaned over the rail. -Her eyes were loyal and smouldering with rage toward MacKeenon. Her -cheeks flushed through the olive-hue of her skin. Her lips were set and -almost hard. She flashed a sudden smile, and, turning her head, glanced -downward to where the seamen of the destroyer had maneuvered the -small-boat. They grappled the ladder with a boat-hook. She waited and -sprang outward. She landed in the stern and grasped the gunwale. She -stared upward with concern as Fay descended the swaying ladder. - -He reached her side and waited. MacKeenon and the lieutenant-commander -came down the ladder and leaped for the bow of the boat. It was shoved -away from the rusty sheer of the giant ship. A bell clanged as the -captain hurried forward along the upper rail. The screw thrashed the -waves. The ship surged on. Its stern showed with gold letters marking -the name: - -“Drammen of Stavanger.” - -It was gone in a swelter of foam and funnel smoke. The fog closed about -the last of the deck lights. The sea tossed the small-boat like a cork -in a whirlpool. - -“Steady her!” said the lieutenant-commander, smartly. “Hold steady! Out -boat-hook! Catch that chain!” - -The destroyer glided through the fog like a lean serpent. A white bone -was at its prow. A bell jingled. An order rolled over the sea. The three -screws reversed as the seaman reached upward and caught a dangling -anchor chain. The boat was drawn close to the flush-deck. It was worked -aft until a low ladder was reached. - -“After you!” said MacKeenon through cupped hands as he raised himself in -the bow and turned toward Saidee Isaacs and Fay. “Climb aboard! Ye’ll be -verra welcome!” - -The girl was assisted up the ladder by the strong arm of an ensign who -wore a gold-braided cap and greasy dungarees. Fay followed her. They -stood clutching the hand-rail which rose from well-scoured duck-boards -on the starboard waist. - -“Remember, Chester,” said Saidee Isaacs as MacKeenon scrambled out of -the small-boat. “Remember, we’ll say nothing until we see Sir Richard. -He’s more of a man than MacKeenon.” - -“They’re all the same,” said Fay, bitterly. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE HOUSE OF THE LIONS - - -However much Fay had expected the brig and irons, he was mistaken in -both surmises. - -The lieutenant-commander of the destroyer and MacKeenon were openly -solicitous regarding their captives’ welfare. The cabin assigned to -Saidee Isaacs was just off the ward-room. It had been used by an Admiral -during the years of the war. It was fitted with the simple, serviceable -things which are found on all his Majesty’s better ships—running hot and -cold water in bath and wash-stand—a bed instead of a bunk—white walls -and cork-tiled deck. - -Fay was shown an ensign’s cabin which had recently been vacated. He -turned as he felt the powerful throbbing of the giant engines of the -destroyer. MacKeenon stood in the doorway with his legs braced across -the alley-way. The Scotch detective smiled dryly and regarded the -pockets of Fay’s overcoat with concern. - -“A hae no doot,” he said, “that ye are armed. Mind passing over any -wicked thing in that direction? There’s much powder about.” - -Fay dipped his right hand into his pocket and passed to MacKeenon the -little silver-plated revolver which Saidee Isaacs had given to him. The -inspector snapped it open and dropped the cartridges into the palm of -his right hand. “A better keep these,” he suggested. “Any more, -Chester?” - -“Nothing,” said Fay. - -“Now the package ye got from the embassy’s safe.” The request was almost -cheerful as if the inspector expected no trouble at all in this -connection. Fay stared at him and shook his head. - -“I have no package,” he said. - -“What, mon—no packet! Ye made considerable mess of the safe in Holland. -A hear from reliable sources that ye took the outer door, the day door -and the inner box like a blacksmith.” - -Fay removed his overcoat, tossed his cap on the bunk, then stepped -toward MacKeenon. - -“You can search me,” he offered. “I didn’t bungle that job—as you think. -I’m not going to talk with you until I see Sir Richard. I may be -misquoted. You well know that anything I say may be used against me.” - -MacKeenon straightened himself, waited until the leaping destroyer had -taken the downswing of a long glide, then he tapped Fay’s pockets with -professional concern. He finished with the overcoat and the cap. His -lips wore a puzzled expression as he stepped back through the door. - -“Ye gave the package to the girl?” he asked. - -“See her! I’ll not talk and I don’t think she will. I got what I was -sent after!” - -“Ye got it! Where is it?” - -“In London—where Sir Richard is—I shall explain everything. Up to that -time and place, questions are useless, Mac.” - -The inspector sniffed and ran his keen eyes over the cabin. He turned -and glanced up the alley-way. - -“Come on deck when ye want to,” he said softly. “Ye’ll find oil-skins -and boots in the ward-room. We’re slithering toward the North o’ England -at a tremendous rate. We’ll be there, this time tomorrow. A’y’ll give ye -that long to think things over.” - -Fay watched him disappear toward the bow of the destroyer. He sat down -and lowered his face in his hands. The noises of their swift passage -drove out all thoughts of escape. There were many alert men on the boat. -Discipline was stern and thorough. The trap had been well sprung. It was -the first stage of the journey back to Dartmoor. - -He reviewed the series of events. It seemed that he had been gripped by -a relentless urging since the hour MacKeenon had stood in that -stone-lined courtyard at Dartmoor. There flashed over his brain the -swirl and surge of affairs. He thought of every little detail—the cipher -papers—the coming of Dutch Gus—the package in the embassy’s safe—the -smoked-glasses. - -But one phase of the matter was illuminating. The others were blurred -and destroying. Saidee Isaacs had cleared herself in a satisfactory -manner. She was shown up in loyal colors. He no longer had any doubt of -her. - -He rose, thrust his arms in the sleeves of his coat, and pulled his cap -down over his head. He glanced into a tiny mirror. His beard on chin and -upper lip showed prominently. He had not shaved for days. There was a -fighting light in his eyes, however, which had always been with him. - -“I’m not beat!” he declared as he passed out the cabin and into a -narrow, steel-lined alley-way. “I’ll find Saidee and talk things over.” - -The alley-way terminated at a ladder which led to the deck. Flanking -this ladder, to port and starboard, were two closed doors. Fay went up -and lifted a hatch. He staggered to the duck-boards and gripped an iron -railing. He glanced about with his eyes widening at the wilderness of -water and fog and spindrift. - -The super-destroyer was knifing westward like a hurtled javelin. Her -four funnels belched fire and oily smoke. Her superstructure of nested -boats, ventilators, pilot-house, chart-house, battened guns and two -taper signal-masts vibrated and throbbed under the steady hammering of -the high-speed engines. - -The dawn was breaking to the eastward. A yellow light was on the fog. A -sea bird wheeled and fell astern. A great wave curled the sharp bow, -combed the flush decks and seethed to leeward. - -Fay wound his fingers about the rail and turned until he faced the after -part of the destroyer. A few of the crew were on deck. They crouched in -the lee of shelters. The stern gun had a jaunty tilt to its long muzzle. -A mark showed on the sponson where a German shell had exploded. - -Saidee Isaacs appeared in oil-skins and a yellow southwester. She was -followed by the lean form of MacKeenon. They worked forward and stood by -Fay’s side. They swayed with the movements of the fast-flying destroyer. - -“Yon is Scotland,” said MacKeenon. “Ye are in the heart of the North -Sea.” - -“Where do we land?” asked Fay. - -“The Firth o’ Tay—at Dundee or Perth.” - -Saidee Isaacs pulled down the brim of her southwester and stared -forward. She pressed her fingers against Fay’s arm. - -“We’ll be in London by tomorrow afternoon,” she said warningly. - -Fay nodded. He was helpless. There was no possible escape from facing -Sir Richard. - -“A have sent a wireless,” said MacKeenon between gusts of wind. “They -will be expecting distinguished guests,” he added dryly. “A warn ye both -that if ye have the cipher-key or know where it can be gotten—don’t -destroy it or cause it to be whisked away. It is also the key to -Dartmoor.” - -“Then I’m gone,” thought Fay as he glanced at the girl. She shook her -head slightly. Her fingers uncoiled from the rail. Her hand passed -slowly over her mouth. She had indicated silence without MacKeenon -catching the motion. - -Fay dropped his eyes and glanced at the hatch. “Let’s go below,” he -said. “I’m getting wet and cold up here. How about some breakfast, Mac?” - -“Ye shall both be served,” said the Scot. “A shall breakfast with ye -both.” - -The morning passed in the silence of the ward-room. Afternoon deepened -the light that came through the port-holes. Green changed to opal, and -opal to gray. Fog swirled and wound the destroyer with a protecting -cloak. The speed was not reduced until the old mine barrier was reached -off the Scotch coast. A shot gave the warning. Voices called from ship -to ship. Once the bright flare of a two-second light flashed and was -gone. They entered the Firth of Tay and glided for the anchorage off -Dundee. - -“A quick passage,” was all that MacKeenon said as the rattle of the -anchor chain followed the shutting down of the engines. - -Fay waited in the ward-room as Saidee Isaacs went for her hat and -gloves. She returned within a minute. She stood erect and faced the Scot -as two ensigns came down through the companion and saluted. - -“Ye go with us,” said the inspector. “There shall be a mon or twa -waiting in Dundee. Passage has been booked for the south. A think it -will be long after midnight when we board the Royal Scotsman for London. -A hae no doot ye’ll thank the commander for me.” - -The ensigns stared at the girl admiringly. They saluted and started up -the ladder which led to the deck. Fay preceded Saidee Isaacs. MacKeenon -waited discreetly, then climbed rapidly upward. The group stood on the -dark deck of the destroyer. Lights showed where ships rode at anchor. A -diadem of fire rimmed the quays and water front. A hotel added its glow -over the city’s housetops. All this was a glimpse of England to Fay. He -turned as he heard a metallic sound. MacKeenon had opened a pair of -handcuffs. They clicked softly upon the cracksman’s protesting right -wrist. - -“A can take no chances,” apologized the vigilant inspector. - -Saidee Isaacs started. She wheeled with flaming cheeks and glowing eyes -toward the inspector. - -“Take them off!” she exclaimed hotly. “What do you mean?” - -MacKeenon carefully gripped the loose end of the cuffs and felt to see -if Fay’s wrist was clamped tight enough. - -“A have my orders,” he said craftily. - -“From whom?” The girl’s voice was tense and demanding. - -“From the Yard. A can do nothing else than what A’ve done. In the train -A’y’ll take them off. A shall take them off.” - -“Never mind,” said Fay slowly. “He’s got some kind of a warrant. I’m on -parole—you know.” - -MacKeenon chuckled and snapped his eyes. “Ye are that,” he said, “and -here comes the boat. Step this way, Chester.” - -A whale-boat rowed by two sailors glided alongside the flush-deck of the -destroyer. The seamen upended oars and reached for a grating. They -waited. - -MacKeenon, with Fay in tow, led the way over the duck-boards and down a -flat ladder to the boat. He stepped aft and made room on the stern seat -for the cracksman. Saidee Isaacs sprang aboard and glided to the bow. -The two ensigns stood at attention. They saluted as the sailors shoved -off and started rowing. - -The shore was reached at a Government quay, piled high with North Sea -stores. An auto was standing at the head of the quay. The driver blew -three blasts on his horn. MacKeenon answered the signal by raising his -hand. A man came gliding between the boxes and bales and stared at Fay. -He turned toward MacKeenon. - -“A’ve booked a compartment on the Royal Scotsman,” he said like an -inferior to a superior. “Ye should reach London by noon. Sir Richard has -wired me he will be waiting at the House of the Two Lions.” - -“Scotland Yard,” whispered Saidee Isaacs into Fay’s ear. - -MacKeenon caught the sly aside and smiled like a crafty manhunter. - -“A hae no doot it is,” he said, staring at Saidee Isaacs. “It’s a quiet -branch of the Criminal Investigation Division.” - -The inspector led the way to the waiting motor. The drive to the station -was made in silence. A wait ensued as the Dundee detective went within -the train-shed and arranged for the compartment. He came back rubbing -his dry hands. He nodded toward MacKeenon. - -“Ye go through a side door,” he said. “A’y’ll follow ye—to see that ye -get there. A had a slip-up in this spot once. My mon got clean away.” - -The Scot glanced at Fay with a glitter in his eyes. The cracksman -shivered slightly. He could not help the movement. There was that to the -inspector’s which spoke of blood-hunting instincts bred in their bones. - -“They’re all the same,” he whispered to Saidee Isaacs. “I told you they -were all the same.” - -She signaled caution and followed him through to the train-shed. -MacKeenon spoke to the guard. The compartment was unlocked. They entered -and sat down. - -The Dundee detective stood on the running-board with his watch in hand -and his eyes glued upon the station-master, who wore more medals than a -German field marshal of Hohenzollern days. - -“Ye’re off,” he announced, snapping shut his watch. “A wish ye all a -pleasant trip.” - -The train pulled out of the long station and struck across the city. It -plunged into a covered bridge and out upon highland. It took the -switches and shunts like a scared cat on a fence. It tunneled the fog -and the night—south-bound for Edinburgh and London. - -MacKeenon reached and tried both doors of the compartment. He turned, -fished into his vest pocket, and brought forth a tiny key. - -“A’y’ll take off the darbies, now,” he said, slipping the key into the -barrel lock of the handcuffs. “Ye can rest easier.” - -“It is about time!” declared Saidee Isaacs as she pressed herself into a -corner of the leather cushions and pulled her hat down over her eyes. - -Fay examined his wrist with concern. A red band showed there. He worked -his fingers, stared at them, then brought forth a cigarette from his -pocket and, declining the light offered by MacKeenon, struck his own -match upon the bottom of his heel. - -Dawn crimsoned the drawn shades of the compartment. The guard appeared -at a station and took the inspector’s orders for a basket of rather -frugal proportions. The three ate breakfast in silence. The last scrap -was finished by MacKeenon, who remarked dryly: - -“Three and six! A minds the time when it was two and four.” - -Fay took this statement to mean that the inspector had spent rather more -money than he expected for the breakfast. He watched the thrifty Scot -make an entry in a notebook. His eyes wandered from this to Saidee -Isaacs. She had pressed her face to a window and was peering out. She -turned and held the shade up for him. - -He caught a streaky glimpse of English meadows and estates. The trees -were very green. The lawns sloped down to the rails like great seas of -velvet. Hedges and well-trimmed clumps and flower-crescents flickered -by. - -Fay flashed her a quick signal. He could escape! MacKeenon might be -bowled over. The door could be broken open. There was all of the North -Country to hide in. A flying leap from the train would take him from the -grasping hand of the Yard. The girl shook her head. She had a plan which -she could not reveal to him. She steadied her eyes and smiled a slow, -enigmatic smile of caution now, but freedom later. - -MacKeenon glanced at his watch. It was evident that the train would be -late. This was such an unusual thing for the Royal Scotsman that he made -inquiry of the guard as the great station at Peterborough was reached. - -The guard explained the matter by mentioning troop movements back from -France. The policing of Germany consisted of a mere handful of the -former force. - -It was graying dusk when the inspector rose and brought out the -handcuffs. Saidee Isaacs turned from the window and flashed a protest as -Fay’s wrist was nipped and gyved to MacKeenon’s left hand. - -She held her tongue and stood erect. The train glided through the murk -of a London station-yard. Switch-point lights flashed—green and white. A -roar sounded of hollow sheds. A grinding of brakes announced the last -stop. The guard appeared, drew out a great bunch of keys and unlocked -the door. He thrust his head inside. - -“Hall hout!” he said. “They’re waiting for you, inspector.” - -Fay, on the end of a bright steel chain, followed the detective. Saidee -Isaacs, who might have dropped back, stepped up loyally. The three -hurried through a curious crowd and glided out of a side door. - -The same black car, with its H.M.S. plates, that had brought Fay to -London from Dartmoor, was waiting. The same driver sat in the front -seat. In the rear, holding an inviting door, stood the little old man -who had followed the cracksman to Holland. His bundle lay on the seat. -It was the nipper grip of the Yard—and perfect team-work! - -The ride south and then west through the crowded throng of City clerks -and busses was made in utter silence. MacKeenon sat between Fay and the -girl. The little old man, whose eyes were as bright as a terrier’s, -watched everything. The pouches on the sides of his jaw were leathern -and long. He sniffed at times. More times, he coughed with a distressing -rasp like a growl or a low bark. - -The car turned into the street upon which was the House of the Two -Lions. The brakes went on with a clamp. The throttle was slowed as the -driver lifted his foot from the pedal. He sprang out to the curb. A -smell of hot oil permeated the night air. A double glow from two lamps -illuminated the front of the house. A man stood waiting! - -Sir Richard nodded his head to MacKeenon after the inspector had hurried -Fay across the pavement and up the flight of steps. The chief of the -bureau glanced keenly at Saidee Isaacs. He said nothing. His manner was -cold. His great jaw snapped shut. It was like a double trap to Fay. - -The light in the hallway was barely sufficient to reveal a flight of -stairs leading upward and a closed door at the end. Toward this door Sir -Richard stepped, threw it open, and bowed as MacKeenon led his suspect -into the center of the huge room, where first Fay had seen the cipher -sheets. - -The cracksman studied this room as MacKeenon, at a nod from Sir Richard, -rattled out the handcuff key and turned the bolt in the snap-lock. -There were the same three tin boxes upon the long mahogany table. There -was also evidence everywhere that clerks had been copying the cipher. -Five American typewriters stood on tables at one end of the room. The -lights in the overhead cluster were brilliant. The air tasted of -pipe-smoke. - -Saidee Isaacs stood by the door which led to the hallway. The little old -man crept to her side and waited for Sir Richard to speak. Fay leaned -against the corner of the long table and rubbed his wrist. - -“You double-crossed me!” he exclaimed bitterly. “You said I could go to -Holland scot-free, and you’ve had every Scotch inspector in the Yard -after me. How do you expect to get results if you do that?” - -“Yes—how does he expect it?” said Saidee Isaacs. - -Sir Richard stared from the girl to Fay. He brought his lower lip over -his upper one. His eyes were curtained by his furrowed brows. His -right-hand fingers toyed with a watch-charm which hung from a heavy gold -chain. - -Turning suddenly, he moved a chair behind the table, sat down, leaned -back, thrust his thumbs in the arm-holes of his silk-lined vest and -nodded toward the door. - -MacKeenon closed the door, locked it and came back to Fay’s side. He -passed the key toward Sir Richard, who motioned for him to lay it on the -table. - -“Now that everybody has had their say,” said the chief, with an icy -glitter in his eyes. “Now that they have,” he continued, “I suppose it’s -my turn.” - -“Fay, what did you do with the package you got from the safe?” - -The question was shot directly at the cracksman. It was phrased so that -there was no possible evasion. - -It was a long minute before Fay answered. He laid both palms on the -table and leaned toward Sir Richard as he said: - -“What did I do with it—why, I threw it away!” - -Sir Richard flushed hotly. He half rose from his chair. His thumbs came -out of the arm-pits of his vest. He grasped the edge of the table and -tilted his chair forward. - -“Threw it away! What did you do that for? You got it and then threw it -away?” - -“Yes, I got it,” Fay said between rigid lips. “I got what those German -bunglers got—what Dutch Gus was after. I got the package and threw it -into the North Sea. You sent me on a wild-goose chase—if ever there was -one.” - -“How’s that?” - -“How! Why, damn it man, I’m no fool! Here I go after a strong-box, find -that the outer door and the day door is ripped wide-open by a bunch of -blacksmiths, beat them to the keister and get the package you sent me -for—only to find that the package contains a cheap pair of -smoked-glasses! A shilling pair, if ever there was one!” - -Fay paused and stood erect. He whipped off his cap and, turning, glanced -at Saidee Isaacs. She stepped forward and nodded confirmation. Fay went -on: - -“You’ve been badly gulled, Sir Richard! Mononsonburg, whose name was on -the package, must have left the smoked-glasses at the embassy, and the -report got to your people, as well as to the Germans, that it was the -key to the cipher. I’m through with the whole mess! Send me back to -Dartmoor!” - -“Smoked-glasses?” repeated Sir Richard, rising and leaning over the -table with his finger pointing like a gun at Fay. - -“Yes—smoked-glasses! An ordinary pair of ordinary glasses!” - -“And you threw them away?” - -“Ask her,” said Fay, turning to the girl. - -The chief of the investigation bureau sat back, thrust his thumbs in his -vest-holes, and whistled slowly. He closed his pursed lips and glared -across the polished table. Inch by inch his eyes raised to the -cracksman. For the first time since leaving the prison, Fay felt the -grip of fear. There was that in the manhunter’s eyes to warn him of -coming danger. - -He stepped back and away from the table. He came full into the level -squint of MacKeenon’s eyes. The air of the great room grew tense with -things about to happen. - -Saidee Isaacs gripped Fay’s sleeve with a pressure of confidence. - -“Tell him everything,” she said in a low whisper. - -MacKeenon stepped between the girl and Fay. He clicked the handcuffs -suggestively as he dropped a hand into his coat pocket. - -“Coom on,” he said, bringing out the cuffs. - -“No, Mac!” Sir Richard snapped. “Not yet! The smoked-glasses he threw -away interest me—the trifle—lighter than air.” - -Fay shrugged his narrow shoulders and advanced to the table. He waited -for Sir Richard to speak. - -“Describe them,” said the chief, leaning back. “What were those glasses -like, Fay?” - -“Ordinary! I saw nothing at all that would interest you in them. They -were dark—almost opaque. They had cheap German-silver bows.” - -“Where are they now?” Sir Richard’s voice held the grating edge of an -inquisitor’s. - -“They’re in the North Sea off the Holland coast. I’d say they went to -the bottom in about thirty feet of water. I threw them off a cliff. She -knows.” Fay turned toward Saidee Isaacs. - -“He did, Sir Richard,” said the girl quickly. “He and I were together. -We had rowed ashore from a sinking ship. I forget its name. Dutch Gus -had the package and Chester took it from him. He sank the ship to get -it.” - -“Ah,” said the chief, “that was enterprise—at any rate. Now where on the -Holland coast could I send a man to dive for the glasses?” - -Fay glanced about the room. “If you get a good chart I’ll show you,” he -said. - -Sir Richard rubbed his hands. “That’ll keep,” he declared. “We’ll -remember it, though. Now, Fay, one other matter before I turn you over -to MacKeenon.” - -“What is it?” - -“How did it happen that you went to Arendal? What took you there?” - -“I was trying to connect with a man named Harry Raymond.” - -“Ace-in-the-hole Harry?” - -“Yes! The deep-sea cardsharper!” - -“What did you want to meet him for?” - -“Last time I saw him he wore a pair of glasses like the pair I threw -away on the Holland coast. Saidee made me go after him—or suggested that -I should.” - -“No, it was his idea,” said the girl staunchly. - -“Whoever thought of it,” Sir Richard said, “must have been sure there -was some connection between the two pairs of glasses.” - -Fay caught the deduction which had caused the chief’s remark. He felt -like a felon before a Crown’s counsel. He bit his upper lip and toyed -with his cap which lay on the table. The bright cluster of bulbs over -his head brought out the clean-cut details of Sir Richard’s features. - -He realized that the man whom he faced was the keenest ferret in all of -Europe. The chief was balked, but only temporarily. There was no beating -him. An inkling of the methods which had cost the underworld so many of -its choicest lights came to Fay. He recalled that Foley the Goat had -been caught by the mere matter of losing a coat-button. Then there was -the Marble Arch affair, where Scotland Yard had brought home the crime -to its instigators by the slender clue of five black hairs perfumed with -a certain Italian hair-tonic which only one shop in Soho poured upon the -heads of its customers. - -Trifles had beaten the best-laid plans of those who lived beyond the -law. And now the hounds were snarling over another trifle—as Sir Richard -said—lighter than air. The chief had caught the thin wedge between the -two pairs of smoked-glasses. He had guessed what Fay already knew. He -glanced up at the cracksman and smiled broadly. - -“So your friend, Harry-in-the-hole, wore the same kind of glasses? That -simplifies matters. It may solve the cipher for us!” - -“That’s what I thought,” said Fay positively. - -Sir Richard stared at the ceiling and the bright electric cluster. -“Let’s see,” he mused. “Ace-in-the-hole Harry—what an awful monacker, -Fay—was arrested at the Crystal Palace for trimming a pigeon out of his -shirt—almost. Then he appeared again at Bow Street charged with running -a buffet flat in the West End—Brick Street, I think. They fleeced -everybody there at banker and broker and baccarat, or was it chemin de -fer?” - -“Don’t ask me,” said Fay. - -“He paid ten pounds fine, I think, and disappeared. Now, you say, he was -on the boats with smoked-glasses. Then those glasses had some close -relation to the cards. I think we’re getting there—” - -Sir Richard’s right fingers crept to his vest pocket in abstraction. He -stared at Saidee Isaacs and then dropped his eyes toward his vest. He -brought out a small ring upon which was a single flat key. He toyed with -this key as MacKeenon crept forward with the loose pouches of his -leathern jaw hanging down. - -“Bring me the boxes!” he said, pointing toward the three tin boxes which -stood at the end of the table. - -MacKeenon set them in front of Sir Richard. - -“It may be, Mac,” said the chief. “It may be that we have reached the -end of the quest. There is something in what Fay has told us, after all. -He’s a bungler and a fool and all o’ that, but he has enterprise. -Suppose you go back to the coach house and tell the driver to give you -those goggles from out the side pocket of the tonneau of the car that -brought you down. I think I heard him take the car around the house. -Tell him I want all of the goggles he has got.” - -The inspector glanced at Fay. - -“Go on,” said Sir Richard, “I’ll watch him.” - -“Now you, Fay,” the chief continued as MacKeenon unlocked the door and -vanished through the hallway. “Fay, you can’t steal! You’re a shining -mark for us. You’ve got the nerve of the damned—but you overlook the -essential trifles. That finger-print up over the transom in Hatton -Gardens—for instance. The dropped hotel-key in Chicago—wasn’t it? And -now the smoked-glasses. You should not have thrown them away.” - -“She told me I shouldn’t have done it,” said Fay, turning toward Saidee -Isaacs. He was surprised to notice that the girl had stepped halfway -toward the door. Her eyes turned swiftly away from a spot on the wall. -She nodded her head as Sir Richard glanced keenly at her. - -“She told you, eh? She was right. A woman’s intuition is a sound compass -to steer by. Saidee has a clever brain—when she uses it. She helped get -these for us.” - -Sir Richard pointed toward the first tin box. “She aided in getting them -through Switzerland. She did well—but they are scraps of paper without -the key that will solve them. That key may lie in the smoked-glasses. It -may go deeper than that. You thought it was a trifle. Let me tell you, -candidly, there are no trifles in this world. What do you wager that the -trifle you threw away solves the secret of the entire German dye -industry?” - -“About three minutes start that it doesn’t,” said Fay as he glanced at -the girl out of the corners of his eyes. - -Sir Richard rubbed his hands and picked up the nearest box. He inserted -the key as the little old man crept out of the gloom and came toward the -table. Saidee Isaacs took one step in the direction of the door and the -wainscoting near the chamfering. She stood pensively, with her hands at -her sides as MacKeenon glided into the room and tossed a pair of -yellow-tinted goggles upon the table. - -Sir Richard picked up these goggles and lifted a sheet of paper out of -the box. He held the glasses in one hand—the paper in the other. His -eyes traveled over the lines of typing. He adjusted the goggles and -leaned his head forward. - -Slowly the chief’s gaze ran from left to right and back again along the -sheet. He fingered the goggles abstractedly. He moved his eyes closer to -the page. He drew them away—a foot or more. - -“Not smoked enough,” he said musingly. “These glasses won’t do, I’m -afraid. They’re very weak. Very weak indeed.” - -Fay stood on the balls of his feet. He thrust a hand halfway out toward -his cap which was between MacKeenon and the little old man. He waited -then with every nerve strained to the leaping point. - -Sir Richard glanced at the electric cluster, blinked his eyes, then -resumed his scrutiny through the goggles of the typed page. He lifted a -second sheet and peered at this. He seemed, to the poised cracksman, -like a scientist examining a beetle with a double microscope. His brow -darkened with a welling frown of annoyance. His chin lifted slightly. -His glance darted toward Fay in final resolution. His eyes flamed. - -“Mac, you may take him back to—” he started to say when Saidee Isaacs’ -fingers closed over the black knob of the switch which controlled all of -the lights in the room. A click sounded like a revolver being cocked. -The place was plunged into inky darkness. An exclamation of surprise -came from the two detectives. This was followed by a gasp from Sir -Richard. This last was mingled exasperation and wonder. - -Fay heard, as he snatched up the cap and darted after Saidee Isaacs, the -quick, braying of MacKeenon: - -“He’s goon, mon! Fay is goon!” - -The inspector blundered against the half-closed door. He bumped his head -in the darkness. Recoiling, he heard Sir Richard exclaim: - -“Come here, Mac! Come here!” - -Fay heard this cry as he leaped through the front door and sprang after -the fleeing form of the girl. He wondered at the reason for it. His feet -did not seem to touch the ground. - -He gained her side as she crossed the dewy lawn of a garden and glided -through box-wood hedges which led west and to another street than the -one upon which was the House of the Two Lions. - -“Are they following us?” she asked, turning her head and glancing at -him. “Is anybody coming?” she repeated, breathing swiftly. - -“No! No!” he answered, staring through the dark arch of green trees. -“No, Saidee, they are not! No one has come out of the house. I don’t -understand why they didn’t follow us—do you?” - -“They’ve found something more important, then—” she said intuitively. “I -believe they have found the key to the cipher!” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -SOLVED - - -Fay valued his liberty too highly to turn back and search for the reason -of the inaction of MacKeenon and Sir Richard Colstrom. - -“This way,” he said to Saidee Isaacs as he pointed toward a -gravel-strewn roadway which wound around a red brick house. “Follow me -and we’ll work west where they can’t find us.” - -“But—” she said, turning and looking back. - -“No, come on! There may be a trick in the way they acted.” - -She followed him reluctantly. The thought had come to her that they were -leaving something unanswered in the House of the Two Lions. She turned -for a second time and sought it out. It showed dark and unimposing -through the dew-laden branches of the trees. - -Fay urged her on. Their progress after the girl’s second back glance was -a dodging one wherein he took every precaution. There were Bobbies -about. Sir Richard had the entire night force of Scotland Yard to -unleash upon their trail. The braying of the runners out of Vine Street -might be heard at any moment. - -Finally, as they stopped by a fern-covered crescent, a whistle shrilled -which drove them into the shelter of a clump of box-wood. The silver -notes were repeated. They rang the air. They paled the girl’s olive -cheeks. She glanced eastward as if seeking protection from Sir Richard. - -Turning toward Fay, she moved her lips inaudibly. He laughed with a -sudden thought. The danger was only fancied. - -A four-wheeler with an ancient nag between the shafts, clattered around -a square. It drew up under a low arc light and took aboard a passenger -who replaced his whistle in the pocket of his mackintosh. - -“Two blasts,” explained Fay, “brings a deep-sea cab. One—a hansom!” - -She glanced up at a corner lamp and said: - -“Kentwater Road! I’m not going any further!” - -“Why?” - -She turned and stared toward the east. “Do you remember Sir Richard -saying ‘Come here, Mac, come here?’” - -“Yes, I do.” - -“What did he mean by that? Why didn’t Mr. MacKeenon follow us? He -could.” - -Fay hesitated. He went back over the scene in the great room where -Saidee Isaacs had switched off the lights. “Yes, he could,” he admitted -finally. “I wonder why he didn’t?” - -Her hand grasped his overcoat sleeve. “I believe they found the -cipher-key! Don’t you see—they must have found it!” - -“They found something more important than us.” - -“We’re going back!” - -“No! I don’t think we had better do that.” - -“Yes we are, Chester. We’re going back and give ourselves up. Isn’t your -freedom less than the key to the cipher? Think what it will do to the -world. Think of the benefit of it.” - -“I’d like to know,” he admitted, staring in the direction of the House -of the Two Lions. “I’d almost take a chance to find out.” - -“Come on back. We’ll soon know. It’s the only thing to do, Chester.” - -He felt her arm within his own. They retraced their steps. A motor car -with H.M.S. plates dashed swiftly by them. A second car turned into the -street upon which was the House of the Lions. It was evident that -something of moment had happened. Fay thought he recognized a familiar -figure in the tonneau of the first car. The man, whoever it was, held -the steady poise of a prime minister. - -Fay stopped and drew Saidee Isaacs into the cove of a hedge. He glanced -out and south along the street upon which was the House of the Lions. -Three great motors stood there with their flaming electrics burning -cones of fire in the night. A figure in tweed passed up the stairway and -was admitted through the front door. - -“That may have been the Prime Minister,” said Saidee Isaacs. - -Fay stared upward at the leaden vault of the London sky. He was between -two minds. The House of the Lions might be a cunningly-baited trap of -the superior order. - -“Come on, Saidee,” he said, throwing away his last resolve for safety. -“We’ll go in the house. We’ll see Sir Richard. If it’s a trap—they’ll -never give me another chance for a get-away.” - -She thrust her hands in the pockets of her skirt and leaned toward him. - -“I never knew Sir Richard to play false,” she said. “He’s too smart a -man to do anything like that. I don’t think we needed to run away.” - -Fay arched his brows. He followed her down the sidewalk and turned with -her into the pathway which led to the House of the Lions. He stood on -the steps as she knocked lightly. The three motors were blocking the -road. Their chauffeurs were huddled in the front seats waiting for -orders. They all had the appearance of sincerity. Fay entered the door -after the girl. - -Sir Richard beamed through the gloom of a half-illuminated hallway. “Ah, -my runaways!” he chuckled. “Come right in! We’ve company of note -tonight—a cracksman, a lady of class, a Prime Minister, an M. P. and the -Secretary of the Home Office. I want you to meet them, Fay. They are -terribly interested in how you found the secret of the German -dye-cipher. You should have stayed until the discovery,” he added with -cryptic smiling. - -Fay allowed the girl to precede him through the doorway which opened -into the large room where stood three men who held themselves like -Empire-builders. These men stared curiously at Sir Richard as he -motioned for MacKeenon and the little Scotch detective to take places at -the door. - -The chief of the investigation bureau rounded the table, drew up a chair -and sat down. He leaned forward and fastened upon Saidee Isaacs and Fay -the level scrutiny of a man who was vastly pleased with the turn of -affairs. He rubbed his hands and beamed upon the company. In some -manner, his strong jaw had softened. The bulges at the sides were not so -prominent. - -“Germany,” he began speaking, “is checkmated. All that sad country knows -about making dyes shall now be known to England and America. The secret -is out!” - -The smaller member of the group of three men, whom Fay surmised was the -Prime Minister who had fought Germany to a knock-out, stepped to the -table and threw back the lid of the nearest tin box. He brought forth a -sheet of paper between his steady, well-manicured fingers. He held it -out with a smile. - -Sir Richard reached for this sheet as he darted a sly aside toward Fay. - -“We have here,” said the chief, “an ordinary piece of fairly good -typewriting paper. It was made in Germany. It contains thirty-two lines -of letters—grouped three letters together. They read -‘aaahhhsssaaacccstopxxxgggssstttstopmmmwww’ and so on. It has long been -suspected that the cipher was written between the lines or on the back -of the sheets. No chemical reaction that we tried brought any -satisfactory result. We tried them all. It remained for chance to solve -the puzzle in a satisfactory manner.” - -Sir Richard glanced at the cluster of lights that bathed the room in -white. He blinked and held out the sheet. He reached and picked up the -pair of tinted goggles which MacKeenon had brought from the stable. - -“These glasses,” he said, “are not sufficiently opaque to answer the -purpose. Fay,” he added with a twinkle, “you are to be complimented on -your enterprise. You took that safe, in the country north and east of -here, like Haig took Cambrai. You held the secret. You lost it and -gained it again. You threw it away and then thought better of the matter -when you followed the cardsharper to see why he wore smoked-glasses. I -know why he wore them!” - -“Why?” said Fay quickly. - -“Because he’s a genius in his own peculiar line. I hope to have the -pleasure of sending him away sometime. With the kind of glasses he -wears, no man is safe in a friendly poker game.” - -Fay stared at Saidee Isaacs. She crimsoned over the memory of the -thirty-odd pounds she had lost to Harry Raymond. - -“I’d like to know how he does it?” she asked. - -Sir Richard laid the sheet of paper on the table. He tossed the tinted -glasses to one side as he rose and pointed toward the snap-switch on the -wainscoting. - -“Turn it off, Mac,” he said. “Put this room in complete darkness. Then -we’ll all see the answer to the puzzle. It was too simple for the best -cipher experts in the world to solve.” - -The inspector reached upward and snapped off the switch. The room was -plunged into Stygian darkness. Fay widened his eyes and tried to make -out details. There was a glow from the side windows which gradually -brought out shadows. - -“Come here, Chester,” commanded Sir Richard. “Come around the table and -stand by my side. Look over my shoulder and tell me what you see on the -paper. Keep yours eyes shaded with your hands to shut out all light. -Now, what d’you see?” - -Fay rounded the table and glided to Sir Richard’s side. He leaned over -and strained his eyes as he stared blankly at the paper. - -He saw nothing but fine black lines at first. He cupped his palms and -pressed them to his temples. He moved his head back and forth from the -page. - -“Keep at it!” said Sir Richard with a positive chuckle. - -Fay strained his glance. He saw then the first white glow of fire which -moved phosphorescently between the typed-lines. It steadied. It -disappeared. It came again—this time more prominently. - -“Good God!” he exclaimed. “It’s there!” - -“Yes,” said Sir Richard. “It is there! What do you make out between the -first and second line? Be careful, don’t touch the paper. That’s it—what -do you make out?” - -“Werke-Maintz,” said Fay. - -“Go on—it reads easy after your eyes accustom themselves to the dark. -What’s between the next lines of typing?” - -“Der est.... Blau die.... Alizarine.... Sapphire.... H₂SO₄ ... HNO₃—” - -“And the next?” - -“Carbanthrene Blau...?” - -“Yes, and indigo and all the fast colors are there. They are worked out -to the minutest details and formulae. They throw the field wide open to -the world. There will be no more secret dyes!” - -Sir Richard grasped Fay’s right arm and continued: - -“D’you see the trick, now? The trifle—lighter than any air? D’you see -what baffled the cipher experts of four countries for two years?” - -“Yes, I see it, now,” said Fay. “The formulae are written in radium.” - -“Radium salt, which is white, upon white paper!” blurted Sir Richard. -“The only way you could ever see it—is in the dark!” - -Fay straightened his back. He tried to pierce the gloom in the direction -of Saidee Isaacs. He glanced down at the table. The sheet of paper had -been whisked away by Sir Richard, who placed it in the box. - -MacKeenon switched on the light. The room was filled with dazzling -brilliancy. Sir Richard pointed to the sheath of cipher papers which -were piled in the tin containers. - -“See anything there now?” he asked Fay. - -The cracksman passed his hand over his eyes and stared at the topmost -sheet. The cipher-writing had vanished. The lines of letters, which had -been typed for a blind, alone showed. - -“Now I know,” sad Fay, “how Ace-in-the-hole Harry worked the gulls on -the passenger boats. He wore heavy smoked glasses and marked the backs -of the cards with phosphor or luminous paint. It was the same thing as -putting the light out—as far as he was concerned.” - -“The trifles!” chuckled Sir Richard. “You threw Mononsonburg’s key away. -Those glasses were thick enough and dark enough to read the writing on -the sheets in daylight. The secrets of the German dyes are written -between the lines by a fine pen dipped in radium salts.” - -The Prime Minister drew out a flat watch and consulted it. He turned -toward two men high in the Government whom Sir Richard had called. - -“Gentlemen,” he said, “we must be going. Sir Richard has entertained us -exceedingly. I’d sum the matter up by saying everything was tried except -putting out the light. But then, who would have thought of so simple a -thing as that?” - -Sir Richard nodded to Saidee Isaacs. - -“She thought of it!” he exclaimed. “The credit goes to her. I’ve no -doubt she thought she was helping a pal—but she did more than that.” - -Fay thrust his hands into the side pockets of his coat and declared: -“You’re right, Sir Richard! That little lady did us a good turn. I don’t -see how Scotland Yard can get along without a woman inspector or two. I -never heard anybody say that a member of the fair sex would overlook a -trifle.” - -The Prime Minister was in the act of placing his hat on his head. He -bowed, instead, and passed Saidee Isaacs as he stepped toward the door. -He was followed by the silent members of his Government. The door -remained open. The great motors throbbed with life. The clash of their -gears woke echoes in the house as they started away. - -MacKeenon and the little old Scot remained in the doorway. They glanced -at Fay and the girl. Their eyes swung toward Sir Richard, who had seated -himself in the chair which was before the three cipher boxes. - -Keen-sniffing, the two detectives waited for the order. A chain clicked -in the inspector’s side pocket. He shifted his weight to his right foot. -He glanced for a second time at Sir Richard. - -“Mac!” - -MacKeenon started and stood erect. - -“Mac,” repeated Sir Richard. “Mac, you may take these three boxes, with -the cipher solved, over to the big safe in Scotland Yard. Give them to -Cragen, who will be responsible for them.” - -The inspector hesitated and glanced at Fay. - -“Go on, Mac!” said Sir Richard sternly. “Do what I say. You and Simpson -shall guard them over. Leave me alone with Fay and the girl. Shut the -door when you go out.” - -Fay watched the two baffled Scots lift the tin boxes, cram them under -their arms and start down the hallway. The door slammed. MacKeenon, in -passing, had kicked it with his foot. - -Saidee Isaacs bobbed her hat and flashed a glance at the door. She -turned and walked toward Sir Richard. She paused and stood in the center -of the room. The chief of the Criminal Investigation Division had -dropped his chin on his breast in an attitude of profound abstraction. - -Fay softly moved to the girl’s side. The two remained silent and -thoughtful over the period of a long minute. They watched Sir Richard -like quick-witted children. Their eyes, although different in color, -contained the same steady stare. - -“You were a fool,” suddenly said the chief without lifting his chin. -“You blundered and blundered and blundered, Fay. You did everything -wrong. And yet everything wrong came out all right in the end. I think -I’ll have to both condemn and praise you.” - -Saidee Isaacs took one quick step toward the table. Fay stopped her with -a reaching arm. There was a quizzical smile on the cracksman’s face. He -had read Sir Richard aright. - -“I think—” started the chief of the investigation division, “I think -that you are just a bad boy grown up.” - -Sir Richard sat bolt upright. He leveled a steady finger across the -polished surface of the table. - -“You’re a fool in a fool’s paradise. You can’t move contrary to fifty -million people, and get away with it. There is a place for such who -break the laws—a house with a Thousand Doors! What have you got to say, -Fay? Do you want to go back to Dartmoor—or do you square it?” - -Fay reached upward, fingered his lapel and removed the little silver -greyhound. He tossed it to the table with a quick jerk of his wrist. He -stood with folded arms. - -“I’m ready to go,” he said, “if you won’t trust me—, all the time!” - -The chief’s eyes narrowed to slits of steel. His fingers reached across -the table and snatched up the insignia of the King’s couriers. - -“Come here,” he said to Saidee Isaacs. - -She glanced at Fay, then moved around the table and stood at Sir -Richard’s side. - -“You may take this trifle of esteem and fasten it upon Chester’s lapel, -again,” the chief said. “We always have a place for men like him.” - -Fay overheard the order and stepped swiftly forward. - -“I’ll take it,” he said, “on one promise. Just one!” - -“And what is that promise I’m to give?” asked Sir Richard smilingly. - -“On your solemn word that you’ll trust me next time you send me out on a -mission.” - -“My word for that, Chester. You’re too high-spirited to lead the life -you were leading. You’ll have your chance now. The war is over—peace has -been signed—but England and your country are just coming into their own. -Look at Mesopotamia and Arabia and Africa—look at Russia and the -Balkans. We’ve got to send men there for certain purposes. You’ll do -nicely! There’s no better commission in the world than the one I offer -you. It’s free-lancing!” - -“I’ll take it,” said Fay. - -Saidee Isaacs glided forward and pinned the little silver greyhound back -on his left lapel. She stepped away with her head thrown high. - -Sir Richard leaned over the table. “There’s moderate expenses goes with -that,” he said. “Now you’ll be getting salutes from the Bow Street -runners instead of dodging them. Are you satisfied with the turn of -affairs?” - -Fay smiled as he hooked his arm with Saidee Isaacs. “We’re going now,” -he said. “I’ll report tomorrow. I’ll be subject to your call in all -cases except putting men in prisons—I draw a line at that—Sir Richard.” - -“Good-by!” boomed the chief. “Good-by, Saidee! See that he watches his -step!” - -Fay opened the door and led her down the hallway. They stood on the -porch between the lions. They passed down the gravel walk. - -Turning and glancing back, she said: - -“Sir Richard is a gentleman!” - -Fay raised his left hand and fingered the little silver greyhound. He -was silent as he led her northward and then toward the West End of -London. They both heard the chimes of Big Ben on the House of -Parliament. Its notes were striking over the housetops of the city. - -They passed through deep aisles of yews and poplars and sturdy English -oaks. They reached Rose Crescent and the road which led to the river. -Their arms were linked as a policeman stepped out from a clump of -box-wood and eyed them intently. - -Fay saluted with his left hand to his plaid cap. The “Bobby” stood with -his great red palms on his knees. He smiled slowly—broadly. - -They vanished in the gloom of Rose Crescent—merged as one. The Bobby -sighed. 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