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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78643-0.txt b/78643-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..786e40b --- /dev/null +++ b/78643-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11457 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78643 *** + + + + + --------------- + THORNLEY COLTON + BLIND DETECTIVE + --------------- + + + + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + THORNLEY COLTON + BLIND DETECTIVE + + + BY + + CLINTON H. STAGG + + AUTHOR OF “HIGH SPEED” + + + NEW YORK + G. HOWARD WATT + 558 MADISON AVE. + 1923 + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + Copyright, 1923, by + G. HOWARD WATT + + + + + Printed in the United States of America + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + CONTENTS + + + Page + The First Problem-- + The Keyboard of Silence, 7 + + The Second Problem-- + Unto the Third Generation, 56 + + The Third Problem-- + The Money Machines, 94 + + The Fourth Problem-- + The Flying Death, 130 + + The Fifth Problem-- + The Thousand Facets of Fire, 168 + + The Sixth Problem-- + The Gilded Glove, 209 + + The Seventh Problem-- + The Ringing Goblets, 258 + + The Eighth Problem-- + The Eye of the Seven Devils, 301 + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + THORNLEY COLTON + + Blind Detective + + + + + THE FIRST PROBLEM + + THE KEYBOARD OF SILENCE + + + I. + +Not often did mere man attract attention in the famous dining-room of +the “Regal,” but men and women alike, who were seated near the East +Archway, raised their eyes to stare at the man who stood in the doorway, +calmly surveying them. The smoke-glass, tortoise-shell library +spectacles, which made of his eyes two great circles of dull brown, +brought out the whiteness of the face strikingly. The nose, with its +delicately sensitive nostrils, was thin and straight; the lips, now +curved in a smile, somehow gave one the impression that, released by the +mind, they would suddenly spring back to their accustomed thin, straight +line. For a smile seemed out of place on that pale, masterful face, with +its lean, cleft chin. The snow-white hair of silky fineness that curled +away from the part to show the pink scalp underneath contrasted sharply +with the sober black of the faultless dinner-coat that fell in just the +proper folds from the broad shoulders and deep chest. + +The eyes of the girl at the sixth table seemed to be held, fascinated. +The elder woman, who was with her, toyed with her salad and conformed to +convention by stealing covert glances at the man in the archway, and the +square-chinned, clean-looking young man who made the third of the party +stared openly, unashamed; but his eyes held not the other diners’ rude +questioning, nor yet the girl’s frank fascination. + +“You are staring, Rhoda,” rebuked the elder woman mildly. + +The girl turned her eyes with a little sigh. + +“What wonderful character there is in his face!” she murmured. + +“He is a wonderful character,” asserted the man, his face lighting up +boyishly, his tone one of admiration. + +“You know him?” Both asked it in a breath, eyes eager. + +“Yes. He is Thornley Colton, man about town, club member, musician, +whose recreation is the solving of problems that baffle other men. It +was he who found the murderer of President Parkins of the up-town +National, and, when the crash came, secured me my position in the +Berkley Trust.” + +“A detective?” The elder woman asked it; the girl’s eyes were again on +Colton. + +“No.” The man shook his head. “He jokingly calls himself a problemist, +and accepts only those cases that he thinks will prove interesting, for +the solving of them is merely his recreation. He takes no fees. The man +with him is his secretary, Sydney Thames, whose name is pronounced like +that of the river. He, too, is a remarkably handsome man, but he is +never noticed when with Thornley Colton, except as his coal-black hair +and eyes, and red cheeks, form a striking contrast to Colton.” + +“I had not even noticed him,” confessed the elder woman, as she glanced +for the first time at the slim young man of twenty-five or six, who +stood at Colton’s side, eyes apparently taking in every detail of the +big dining-room. Then she remembered her duty as mentor. “You _must_ not +stare so rudely, Rhoda!” she chided. + +“I don’t think Mr. Colton minds the stare,” the man said quietly. “He +has been totally blind since birth, though many people refuse to believe +it.” + +“Blind!” They both breathed it, in their voices the tender sympathy all +women feel for the misfortunes of others. + +“He is coming,” warned the elder woman unnecessarily. + +They had seen the head-waiter apparently apologize to Colton, and step +aside. The secretary had whispered a few words, and Thornley Colton, his +slim stick held lightly and idly in his fingers, started down the aisle +between the rows of tables, shoulders swung back, chin up, followed by +Sydney Thames. The woman and the girl watched his approach with parted +lips, in their eyes mother fear for his safety as he hurried toward +them, stepping aside at exactly the proper moment to avoid a hurrying +waiter, walking around the very much overdressed, stout woman whose +chair projected a foot over the unmarked aisle line. As he neared their +table, they saw the thin lips frame a smile of friendly greeting. + +“How do you do, Mr. Norris?” His voice, rich, of wonderful musical +timbre, seemed to thrill the girl with its kindliness and strength, as +he stepped around her chair to shake hands with her escort. “Sydney saw +you while we were waiting for our table.” + +“Will you meet Miss Richmond?” asked Norris, when he had answered the +greeting in kind. Colton turned instantly to face the girl, his slim +white hand, with its long, tapering fingers, outstretched. + +“It is a concession we of the darkness ask of every one,” he apologized. + +Their hands met, the girl felt the warm grip, and her sensitive wrist +seemed to feel a touch, light as the touch of wind-blown thistle-down, +but it was gone instantly, and she knew it was but the telepathic thrill +of the meeting palms. She murmured a commonplace, and bit her lips in +vexation, because it was a commonplace. The man before her seemed to +call for more. + +“Your singing is wonderful, Miss Richmond,” he declared +enthusiastically. “Sydney and I have had orchestra seats three nights +this week. You know, to me music must give the combined pleasures of +painting, sculpture, architecture, and other beautiful things the +average person doesn’t even appreciate.” + +Her eyes expressed their pity, but her lips said only: “My mother, Mr. +Colton.” They shook hands across the table, Mrs. Richmond with a +heartiness that was not part of the artificial code New York has fixed, +he with a few words that brought a flush of pleasure to her faded +cheeks. + +“Why didn’t Mr. Thames stay?” asked Norris curiously. “He hurried on as +though he thought we were plague victims.” + +“He usually does,” smiled Colton. “He has a very curious fear. I’ll tell +you about it some time.” + +“Why don’t you drop into the bank and see me some day? You haven’t been +in my tomb-like office for months. Miss Richmond and her mother saw me +at work for a few minutes this afternoon. It compares very favourably +with the dressing-rooms given to opera-singers, they say.” + +“I should say so!” laughed the girl. “If you can compare Persian rugs +and mahogany with our cracked walls, and box-propped dressing-tables, +and plugged gas-jets!” + +“Men always do take the best,” conceded Colton smilingly. Then he +addressed Norris directly. “How is Simpson attending to business +nowadays?” + +“He has been away for a week. He came in this afternoon to amaze us with +the news that he had just been married. He didn’t have much to say about +his wife, however, except that he was going to turn over a new leaf.” + +“That’s news!” whistled Colton. “He never struck me as the marrying +kind.” + +“Nor any one else,” laughed Norris, with a tender, significant glance at +the girl across the table. + +“I’ll have to look him up and congratulate him. Till we meet again, +then.” And with a pleasant nod of parting to each of them, a touch of a +chair leg with his slim stick, Colton hurried down the aisle to the +small table in the far corner, where Sydney Thames was giving his order +to the waiter. The serving-man responded to a friendly nod from Colton, +closed his order tablet, and hurried away. Thornley took a cigarette +from his case, scratched a match on the bronze box, and leaned +comfortably back in his chair. + +“Some time, Sydney, your terrible fear of beautiful women is going to +get me into a very embarrassing position.” He said it half seriously, +half smilingly. “Instead of seventeen steps, it was but sixteen and a +short half. If it hadn’t been for Norris’s habit of nervously tapping +his glass with his finger-tips, my outstretched hand would have gone +back of his neck.” + +“I thought I had figured it exactly!” There was earnest contrition in +the tone; the sombre, black eyes showed the pain of the mistake. + +“It is forgotten,” dismissed Colton. Then: “But you should have stopped, +Sydney. Miss Richmond’s personality is as remarkable as her singing, and +her mother is so proud and happy she forgets to be embarrassed at the +difference between Keokuk and the Regal. Norris is lucky, for she loves +him, and he----” The smiling lips needed no finishing words. + +“But she is already commanding two hundred dollars a week at the very +beginning of her career, and Norris cannot be earning more than five +thousand a year,” protested Thames. + +“You poor boy!” smiled Colton. “You’ll never know women; that +susceptible heart of yours, which drives you away like a scared sheep +whenever a beautiful woman approaches, will never be good for anything +but pumping blood.” + +“Thorn, don’t I know my weakness!” The tone was indescribably bitter. “I +must keep away, though I’m starving for the society of good women. To +meet one would be to fall in love, hopelessly, helplessly. I’d forget +that I was a thing of shame, a brat picked up on the banks of the river +that gave me the only name I know.” + +Colton was instantly serious. “Starvation seems a peculiar cure for +hunger,” he mused. “But we have argued that so many times----” Again the +thin, expressive lips finished the sentence. + +Then came the waiter with a club sandwich for Thames and Colton’s +invariable after-theatre supper that was always ready when he came, and +which he never needed to order; two slices of graham bread covered with +rich, red beef-blood gravy, and a bottle of mineral water. Colton’s slim +cane, hollow, and light as a feather, the slightest touch of which sent +its warning to his supersensitive finger-tips, rested between his knees +as he ate. + +Sydney Thames nibbled his sandwich absentmindedly, eyes roving around +the dining-room, now stopping at a gaudily-dressed dowager, now at an +overpainted lady who smiled her fixed smile at the bull-necked man at +her table, now at the circle-eyed girl who stabbed the cherry from her +empty cocktail glass with a curved tine of her oyster fork; but always +coming back to the fresh, wholesomely beautiful face of Rhoda Richmond. +Then the sombre eyes would light up; for a beautiful face, to Sydney +Thames, was more intoxicating than wine, and, to his highly sensitive +nature, more dangerous. + +Colton pushed his plate aside as the other’s eyes once more started +their round of the dining-room. + +“The gods give gaudiness in recompense for the eye-sparkle they have +taken, and the wrinkles they have given,” Thornley Colton murmured +quietly. “One must come to a New York restaurant to realize the true +pathos of beauty.” Colton’s mood had been curiously serious since those +few words at Norris’s table. + +Thames did not answer, for no answer was needed. His wandering eyes had +rested on a table to the left. + +“One often wonders,” continued Colton, in that same musing, low-pitched +voice, “why a stout woman, like that one two tables to our left, for +instance, will suffer the tortures of her hereafter for the sake of +drinking high balls in a tight, purple gown.” + +Sydney had turned his eyes to stare at Colton, as he always did when the +man who had picked him up as a bundle of baby-clothes on the banks of +the Thames, twenty-five years before, made an observation of this kind. +Many such had he heard, but never did they fail to startle him. + +“How, in Heaven’s name, did you know what I was doing, or that she was +dressed in purple?” he demanded. + +“You should keep both feet flat on the floor if you want to keep your +staring a secret,” laughed Colton quietly. “You forget that crossed +knees make your suspended foot tell my cane each time you turn your head +ever so slightly. See that my fingers are not on my stick when you +covertly watch the women you fear to meet.” + +“But the purple gown?” demanded Sydney, repressing the inclination to +uncross his knees, and flushing at the amused smile the involuntary +first motion of the foot had brought to the lips of Colton. + +“All stout women who breathe asthmatically wear purple,” declared Colton +emphatically. “It is the only unfailing rule of femininity. And to one +who has practised the locating of sounds that come to doubly sharp ears +the breathing part was easy. There is no one at the next table on the +left, you’ll observe. Now you can resume your overt watching of Miss +Richmond; see”--he laid both hands on the white table-cloth before +him--“I won’t look.” + +The head-waiter stopped at the table. + +“Mr. Simpson would like to have you come to his table, Mr. Colton. He +wants you to meet his wife.” + +“His wife?” put in Thames quickly. + +“She is, sir.” It was said with a positiveness there was no gainsaying. + +“Where is Mr. Simpson?” asked Colton. “We had not seen him.” + +“In the east wing, sir, where the palms are.” + +“We will go to him immediately.” + +“I’ll tell him, sir.” His beckoning finger brought the waiter who had +served them with the check. + +Sydney Thames spoke. “Some one of his cheap actress friends has roped +him at last,” he said scornfully. “He’s a pretty specimen of man to be +first vice-president of the conservative Berkley Trust Company.” + +“I’ll wager you’re wrong,” declared Colton quietly, as he handed the +waiter a two-dollar bill from his fold. “If it were one of the women for +whom he has been buying wine suppers for the past two years, she +wouldn’t be ‘where the palms are,’ nor would the waiter be so positive +of the marriage relation.” + +“I’m not going,” protested Thames quickly. + +“Surely, Sydney, you are not afraid a married woman will kidnap you?” +smiled Colton, as he took the stick between his fingers and prepared to +rise. “How many?” + +Sydney, who had turned half around in his chair to gaze toward the +entrance to the east wing, faced him. “I’ll go,” he said shortly; +another hasty glance, and he rose with Colton. “Thirty-seven straight, +eighteen left, nine right. We will stop at the door of the east wing. I +can’t see it.” + +“There are no pretty women to disturb the distance judgment you have +been so many years acquiring?” queried Colton mildly. + +Without answering, Thames turned on his heel, and made his way rapidly +between the tables toward the east wing. Colton laughed silently, picked +up his change, and hurried after, his perfectly trained brain counting +the steps automatically, his thoughts busy elsewhere. He was thinking of +Simpson, who had gained such an unenviable reputation as a spender along +the gay White Way during the past two years. + +Simpson had always interested him, student of human nature that he was, +as the one man who had never lived up to the impression Colton’s +unerring instinct had told him was the right one the first time they had +met. The problemist had expected things of Simpson, and Simpson had done +nothing but idle as much time as possible in the position as first +vice-president of one of the most conservative banks in the city, and +spend money on women. + +Colton stopped for an instant beside Thames in the archway, apparently +gazing idly at the crowd of men and women at the palm-shaded tables. + +“Two left, nineteen straight, half in,” directed Thames, stepping aside +to follow. + +The heavy-lidded, thickset man, with the faint lines of blue vein +traceries in his cheeks, rose to meet them. + +“This is a pleasure, Mr. Colton,” he exclaimed, in heavy-voiced +heartiness. “You are the one man I wanted to see; though I hardly +believed it would be my luck to catch you this night of all nights. You +knew the pace I was going, and I want you to meet the little girl I went +back to the old town to marry. We’ve been friends since we were tots. +Thank God, I waked up in time to know what a good woman means! When next +you see us it will be in our own home. One moment, please”--his voice +sank to an almost reverent whisper--“my wife is deaf and dumb, Mr. +Colton.” + +Thames had heard; had seen, with curiously mixed feelings, the little +woman with the small, boyish face around which the tendrils of brown +hair curled from under the close-fitting toque, and had appraised the +slim, quietly dressed figure, the half smile as she stared inquiringly +at them. The girl seemed but a child, but he saw that her face was +heavily daubed with powder and rouge, as though its application had +neither been taught nor practised. Until those last explaining words he +had stood back with a half-pitying light in his eyes, for he knew +Simpson’s reputation with women. But at the quietly spoken sentence he +had undergone an instant change of feeling, such as only highly-strung, +hypersensitive men like him are capable of, toward the man who had gone +away from his women of wine to marry a simple country girl who could +neither speak nor hear. + +Simpson’s fingers had been moving rapidly; he bowed toward Thornley +Colton. The girl smiled, and put out her small hand, the movement +throwing back from her wrist the filmy lace of the long sleeve. For a +moment they clasped hands; then the girl’s fingers worked again. + +Simpson laughed. “She does not believe you are blind, Mr. Colton; she +says you have eyes like every one else.” + +Thornley Colton smiled. “If you tell her that I’ve got to wear these +large-lensed, smoked glasses to prevent the light giving me a headache +you will probably never convince her,” he observed, as he refused the +chair the waiter had drawn up. + +Sydney Thames acknowledged his introduction with a bow and the usual +meaningless words, but his eyes were soft and tender as a woman’s as +they met those of the girl in the instant’s glance she gave him before +the lashes were lowered. A woman’s face never failed to stir him. + +“Won’t you sit down?” pleaded Simpson. “It will probably be the last +time you will ever find me in one of these gilded palaces. A man who has +been my kind of a fool _can_ appreciate his own fireside, and Gertie, +who was all aflutter to visit one of the famous Broadway restaurants, +recognized in ten minutes the crass artificiality it took me years to +discover.” He was holding her hand openly and unashamed as he said it. + +Thornley Colton shook his head. “It is past my time for going home, and +you know my habits. A glass of Célestin’s at one-fifteen, the beauties +of the Moonlight Sonata on my piano for fifteen minutes, and then to +bed. If I may visit you at your home, Mrs. Simpson?” his outstretched +hand met that of the girl. “Ah, you read the lips? A wonderful +accomplishment to us who have never had eyes.” His lips framed a smile +of pleasure; he turned to Thames. “The same, Sydney?” he asked. + +The secretary’s eyes travelled up the aisle. “The man nine steps up is +gesticulating quite freely.” + +“Lots of room.” Colton’s slim stick touched a chair-leg, he bowed, and +hurried away, the hearty good-night of Simpson following. Thornley +Colton never needed any direction for going back over the same route, +for his mind, trained to the figures of steps, neither hesitated nor +made mistakes in following them backward. He stepped aside to avoid the +swinging arm of the loud-voiced man who was punctuating his liquor-born +blatancy with violent gestures, and paused at the archway of the main +dining-room for Thames. + +“Is Norris still at his table?” he asked. + +“It is empty.” + +“Um!” Colton’s high forehead wrinkled a frown, his slim stick tapped his +leg. “Time enough to-morrow,” he announced finally, and started through +the maze of tables towards the entrance. + +They received their hats and overcoats and left the big hotel to enter +the long, black car that awaited them at the north entrance at one +o’clock each morning. They were well on their way to the big, +old-fashioned brownstone house where Thornley Colton had been born, +before the silence was broken. Then Sydney Thames spoke: + +“There must be a lot of latent goodness in a man who could take a woman +like that to love, and cherish, and protect,” he said slowly. + +“You mean Miss Richmond?” The darkness concealed the whimsical smile on +Colton’s lips. + +“No!” The negative was short. “Norris will marry Miss Richmond just +because she is beautiful and accomplished; because his man’s vanity will +be tickled to exhibit her before men as his possession. I mean Simpson, +who took a simple country girl whom God had handicapped, just because he +loved her. That means something.” + +“But, Sydney”--Colton’s thin fingers rested lightly on the other’s +sleeve; there was just the faintest trace of laughter in the +words--“don’t you think she was a bit too heavily rouged?” + +He felt the highly-strung man jump under his hand. + +“Good heavens, Thorn!” Sydney burst out. “Sometimes I wonder if you +_are_ blind!” + +“God gives fingers to the sightless, Sydney,” Colton’s voice was quietly +serious. “In the darkness the keyboard of my piano gives me the soul +secrets of dead men gone to dust. In the lights of a Broadway restaurant +the keyboard of silence gives me the secrets of living hearts. And they +cannot lie.” + +“What do you mean? What have I missed?” Thames asked the questions +eagerly, tensely, for he knew the moods of this man who had been the +only father he had ever known; he understood that something of grave +portent had given its significance to the man who could not see, while +he with five perfect senses, had seen nothing, suspected nothing. + +Colton pulled his crystalless watch from his pocket, and touched it with +a finger-tip. “One-thirty; we are fifteen minutes late.” He put his hand +on the door catch as the big machine slowed up before his home. And it +was not until they were ascending the broad brownstone steps that he +answered the question. + +“You have missed the first act of what promises to be a very remarkable +crime, Sydney,” he said quietly. + + + II. + +Colton scowled when the red jack failed to turn up, but the mouth +corners smiled when the ace of diamonds slid between the sensitive +fingers to take its place in the top row of Mr. Canfield’s famous game. +The deuce followed, the red jack immediately after; then the problemist +looked up toward the doorway of the library. + +“Well, Shrimp?” he smiled. + +“They’s the theatrical papers yuh wanted.” The red-headed, freckle-faced +boy with the slightly-twisted nose came forward with an armful of big +magazines and newspapers, the front pages of which were adorned with +full-length portraits of stage celebrities. Before he quite reached the +table he stopped short, eyes crackling their excitement. “Snakes! You’re +gettin’ it, Mr. Colton! They’s the four of hearts and the five of +spades. Don’t stop now.” + +Colton laughed. “All right, Shrimp. Do you want to do a little detective +work for me?” + +“Do I?” The eyes danced with eagerness. “Ain’t I been studyin’? Nineteen +steps from the kitchen t’ the first chair in the dinin’-room. Six----” + +“I know,” assured Colton hastily. “But you take those papers to your +room and write down the names of all the vaudeville actors--men, you +know--who have quit the stage within the last two months; where they +have gone, and why, if possible.” + +“Snakes!” The boy’s face showed his disappointment. “Nick Carter never +had t’ do that.” + +“He never had to count steps for a blind man, either,” smiled Thornley +Colton. “You do that and there’ll probably be some real detective +work--shadowing, disguises, and the rest of it.” + +There was no answer. The boy had taken a firmer grip on the papers, and +was already out of the room. + +The four of hearts and the five of spades had been placed when Sydney, +face broad in a smile, entered. + +“What’s the matter with ‘The Fee’?” he demanded. “He ran past me as +though he were on his way to a fire.” Thames always referred to Shrimp +as The Fee, because the red-headed, freckle-faced boy had become part of +the Colton household after a particularly baffling case, at the +conclusion of which the joy of capturing the murderer had been +overshadowed by the blind man’s sorrow for the broken-nosed boy who had +jumped between him and a vicious blackjack. And Shrimp had been his fee +for the case. As the boy’s mother was the murdered one, and his father +the murderer, there had been no one to object. + +Before Colton had a chance to voice his laughing explanation, the +tinkling telephone-bell on the desk demanded attention. At the first +words the thin lips tautened to a straight line, the voice became +pistol-like in its crispness, the muscles under the pale skin of the +face became tense. + +The problemist had a problem. + +“When? Last night. All right. Still that two-wire burglar connection on +the safe? Never mind further details. We’ll be right down.” + +As his hand dropped the receiver on the hook a finger pressed the garage +bell button that would bring his machine instantly at any hour of the +day or night. + +“Get your hat and coat, Sydney,” he ordered curtly. “We’re going to the +Berkley Trust Company. Somebody’s gotten away with half a million in +negotiable bonds!” + +“Half a million?” gasped Thames. + +“So they said. Didn’t wait for details.” Colton grabbed his private +phone-book of often-needed numbers, and ran his fingers down the backs +of the thin pages on which the names and numbers had been heavily +written with a hard pencil. As Sydney hurried out he heard the curt +voice give a number over the phone. And it was fully five minutes before +Colton took his place in the car. + +In the smooth-running machine, with the wooden-faced Irish chauffeur at +the wheel, Sydney Thames voiced the question: + +“Last night, you said?” + +“Yes, the second act came sooner than I expected,” broke in Thornley +Colton. “I underrated the man.” And the expression on the pale face +augured ill for some one. + +The funereal atmosphere of the Berkley Trust Company could be _felt_ as +they entered. In the office of the third secretary, the white-haired +president of the institution stopped his nervous pacing to mumble a +greeting in tremulous accents. First Vice-President Simpson’s grave face +broke into a smile of welcome. Norris raised his bowed head from his +hands, and came forward joyfully, pleadingly. The red-faced man who had +been standing over him kept a step away, but always near enough to touch +him with an outstretched hand. + +“My God, Mr. Colton! They think I’m guilty!” There was agony unutterable +in Norris’s voice. + +“Ridiculous!” snapped Simpson, his heavy-lidded eyes half closed. “Mr. +Colton will soon put this detective right.” + +The problemist nodded a grim acquiescence, and took the outstretched +hand of Norris. “I know better,” he said kindly. The red-faced man gave +voice to a grunt, and Colton instantly swung around to face him. “So +you’ve cleaned it up already, Jamison?” he asked mildly. + +“Nobody said he was guilty,” growled the red-faced central-office man +significantly. “I just been questionin’ him, that’s all.” + +“And accusing him with every question!” snapped Colton. “Like the rest +of your kind, you haven’t the intelligence to suit your methods to the +crime. Every crime must be worked according to the old Mulberry Street +formula. That didn’t change with the modern Centre Street building.” + +“But we know enough not to make any cracks till we get all the +information,” sneered Jamison. “We don’t hand out that know-it-all stuff +till we know _something_!” + +“True,” smiled the problemist with his lips, but there was no smile in +his tone. Two hectic spots glowed in his cheeks, the muscles worked +under the pale skin. “What do you think, President Montrose?” The +white-haired president halted his pacing once more, and stroked his +Vandyke. + +“The first stain on the unsullied escutcheon of the Berkley Trust +Company,” he groaned. “In all of the half century----” + +“I know all that!” broke in Colton impatiently. “What happened? Why are +the police here instead of the protective-agency men?” + +“I was excited,” moaned the president. “It was the first thing that +occurred to me. In all the half century of----” + +“I guess we were all excited,” interjected Simpson, his lips twisted in +a wry smile. “I know I was up in the air. I came down here, happier than +I ever was before in my life, to arrange for a short vacation to take a +wedding trip. Now this comes up. When I came to my senses I telephoned +for you, because I want the robbery solved as soon as possible. The +little girl has banked so much on our little time.” + +“Too bad,” murmured Colton. “Tell me the story, Norris.” Before he could +get an answer he turned to Thames, who always stayed discreetly in the +background when Colton was on a case. “See that no one goes near that +safe, Sydney; I may want to examine it.” + +“Kind of dropped that bluff of bein’ blind, ain’t you?” sneered Jamison, +who was one of the hundreds of persons in New York who would not believe +that Thornley Colton was really sightless. And the problemist did not +deign to explain that once he had been in a room and touched its objects +with his cane his trained brain held the correct mental picture for +ever. + +“The bonds were fifty in number, ten thousand each, government fours, +negotiable anywhere,” began Norris, licking his dry lips to make the +words come easier. “They were the bulk of the Stillson estate, on which +I was working. We are settling it up. As third secretary my work is with +trusts and estates. It was necessary to have everything finished by +to-night. I worked late yesterday, so late that the bonds and other +papers could not go into the time-locked vaults, and I had to be at work +on them this morning before the clock-release time.” + +“Is it customary to keep valuable bonds in the small safe in this +office?” interrupted Colton. + +“It is not unusual. The safe is practically as strong as the big vaults, +and only lacks the clocks. This office is really part of the vault +itself, the walls are windowless, and of four-foot concrete reinforced +by interlocked steel rails. The sheet-steel door, the only entrance to +the room, opens into a small cage that is occupied during the day by +Thompson, head of the trust and estate routine clerks, and at night by +one of our two watchmen. The watchmen never leave it, because it often +happens that valuable papers and bonds are left out of the big vaults so +that we can work on them before nine o’clock, the hour set on the +vault’s clocks. To get to the steel door of this office one would have +to enter the outer and inner steel cages, the steel-barred door of the +small ante-room, besides setting off burglar-alarms on all, disturbing +the watchman, and ringing the bells in the burglar-alarm department of +the Bankers’ Protective Association, of which we are a member. And there +was no sign of a break, the safe was opened with the combination that +only Mr. Montrose and Mr. Simpson and myself know.” + +“The watchman could get to this door without any trouble?” + +“Both have been in the employ of the bank for forty years. They are +absolutely above suspicion. Both are illiterate. Even though they could +enter the office, they could not open the safe, and even if they did +that they would not know enough to steal all the notes I had made +regarding the estate, or the bonds that have so utterly vanished. They +have been sent for, however, and should be here any minute.” + +“Were the notes you made stolen, too?” + +“All of them.” + +“Any of the other employees of the bank know the bonds were in this +safe?” + +“Several, probably.” + +“All have access to this room, at any time?” + +“Only Thomas, the head of the T. and E. clerks.” + +“Trustworthy?” + +“He grew up with the bank.” + +“You require other clerical assistance at times?” + +“Thomas takes the papers from this office, and the clerks get them from +him outside. All must be returned to me before closing time. I carefully +checked over every one last night before any of them went away.” + +“Any one in here yesterday while you were at work on the papers; any one +who could have seen the bonds?” + +For a moment there was no answer; then it came, almost in a whisper: +“Miss Richmond and her mother were in for a few moments----” + +“And I was, too, by Jove!” The interruption came from Simpson. “And I +remember asking you how you were getting on with the Stillson estate. I +just finished my part when I went away. I guess I really held them up +longer than I should.” + +“Has Miss Richmond been sent for?” Colton paid absolutely no heed to the +first vice-president. + +A grunting laugh from the detective. “She sure has, bo. After I found +out this guy’s stage lady had been in here with a tailor’s suit-box +after closin’ time, my partner went right up to her hotel.” + +“By Heaven! You----” Norris rose to his feet, face black with fury. +Colton’s hand on his shoulder forced him back into the chair. Sydney +Thames, to whom all women were angels, clenched his fists. + +“Is that true?” There was a new tone to Colton’s voice. + +Norris seemed to recognize the menace. “She isn’t guilty, I tell you! +She can’t be. She’s--Listen, man! She’s my wife!” + +“Your wife!” They all echoed it. The detective with laughing triumph; +President Montrose with horror; Sydney Thames in dazed surprise; Simpson +with a half-suppressed, significant gasp. + +“We were married two days ago; but it was to be a secret until the end +of her season.” + +“How long ago was she sent for?” + +The detective answered: “My side kick ought to be back now. We was on +the job there, all right, all right.” + +Voices outside came to their ears--the harsh, commanding voice of a man, +the half-subdued sobbing of a woman. The door was thrown open, and Rhoda +Richmond, opera singer, and wife of Norris, was half pushed, half +carried into the small room. + +“Good work, Jim!” grinned Jamison. “Did she put up a howl at the hotel?” + +“Hotel?” growled the other scornfully. “No hotel for hers. I had a lot +of luck or I’d never’ve got her. She was boardin’ a boat fer South +America that sails in an hour.” + +“It’s a lie!” Norris screamed the words as he leaped toward the man +whose rough hand was clenched around the slim arm of the girl. Sydney +Thames, obeying Colton’s silent signal, forced him back, his own hands +trembling. The problemist without a word untwisted the central-office +man’s fingers, and gently seated the girl in a chair at the long table. + +“Who the----” The blustering detective was cut off suddenly. + +“We’ve had enough of your strong-arm methods!” Colton’s voice was hard +as flint. “We’ll get some facts now.” The hardness vanished; in its +place came gentle sympathy. “When did you get the message, Miss +Richmond?” he asked. + +The voice seemed to have the reassuring effect of a pat on the head of a +hurt child. With an effort the girl controlled her sobs, and answered as +though it had been the most natural question in the world: “An hour +ago--over the telephone--I thought I recognized How--Mr. Norris’s voice. +He wanted me to meet him at the Buenos Aires dock. He had to go to South +America secretly, he said, and I must tell no one. I hurried to the dock +without even telling mother. I waited for an hour, but he did not come; +then I decided to go aboard and see if he had missed me and gone to his +state room. This man--said Howard had--robbed--I thought----” + +She broke down again. + +“I guess that’s bad!” grinned Jamison gloatingly. “In another hour +there’d of been a clean get-away.” + +“The whereabouts of the bonds doesn’t seem to worry you!” snapped Colton +sarcastically. + +“The stuff ain’t never far away from the guy that took it,” growled +Jamison. “When you get through your know-it-all talk we’ll sweat that +out, all right.” + +“Did you have a tailor’s suit-box with you yesterday?” asked Colton +abruptly of the girl. + +“Yes. I called to see if my new walking-suit was finished. It was all +ready to be sent to my home, but when I saw the poor, tired little boy +who would have to carry it I took it myself. The tailor is just around +the corner, on the avenue; that is why mother and I dropped in here.” + +“Of course,” nodded Colton, his teeth snapping together as he seemed to +sense the derisive grins on the faces of the detectives. “Did you +recognize the bonds among the papers on which Mr. Norris was working?” + +“Oh, he showed them to me, and we laughingly spoke of what we could do +with half a million dollars. Then, when he took mother out to show her +around the bank--I was too tired--I picked one up and read it.” + +“Rhoda!” cried Norris. He could realize the present significance of +yesterday’s innocent words. + +“That’ll be about all from you!” scowled Jamison. “If this guy wants to +third-degree her, and cinch it for us, let him.” + +“An’ if he don’t cinch it this will.” The other detective pulled a paper +from his pocket. “Here’s the _Buenos Aires’s_ passenger list, and here’s +Mr. and Mrs. Frank Morris, who booked yesterday, added in pencil. Morris +for Norris! Slick enough to be almost good.” + +Every one in the room but Colton seemed to be shocked into a state of +stupefied rigidity. + +“Now----” Jamison said that word in the tone one uses to introduce some +especially clever thing, and accompanied it with a sarcastic glance +toward the blind man, who tapped his trouser leg with his cane in +thoughtful silence. “If _you_ ain’t got no objection we’ll take these +two to headquarters, and get a line on where they got the stuff cached.” +He paused suggestively, mockingly. + +The permission came, with a deprecatory wave of the cane, and a smile +that was menacing in its very suaveness. “Go as far as you like, +Jamison. Don’t be too gentle with them.” + +“My God, Mr. Colton! You don’t think----” The words choked in Norris’s +throat. + +“I think you had better go.” The problemist’s tone was peculiarly quiet. +“Jamison and his partner have the reputation of being the two wealthiest +detectives in the department. No one knows how they got it, but they’ve +enough to give you and your wife a twenty-thousand-dollar nest egg each +on a false-arrest suit. Isn’t that worth a few hours’ discomfort? I can +prove your innocence when they have gone. They worry me here.” + +Simpson whistled, and turned it into a jerky laugh. “Gad, that was +clever!” he exclaimed. + +“Oh, is that so!” The detectives chorused it, in their voices +sarcasm--and just a tinge of something else, too. Colton knew the one +thing that would make them stop and think. + +“Are you going?” snapped Colton. + +“We’ll see them two watchmen first,” growled Jamison. + +“Good!” The problemist laughed at the sudden change. “I think you’ll +have quite a crowd to take down to head-quarters if you hang around long +enough. Before I started I telephoned to the burglar-alarm telegraph +department of the protective agency to get hold of the men who answered +the alarm that rang in from this office early this morning.” + +“What burglar-alarm?” snarled Jamison. He whirled on the white-haired +president. “Why didn’t you tell us there was an alarm rung in?” + +“Really”--the Vandyke received several severe yanks--“I didn’t know it. +We do not receive the clock reports and emergency alarm sheets until +about noon. Er--Mr. Colton, might I ask where you got this information?” + +“I telephoned for it,” answered Colton curtly. “If these policemen +hadn’t been so anxious to make arrests, and the robbery hadn’t been too +obvious for their thick heads, they might have investigated. But they +are just head-quarters men; the obvious arrest is the one they always +make. Feet make good central-office men, not heads. Ah, here are the +men, all together.” + +They came in slowly, two old men first; one with straggly, white +whiskers that concealed the weak chin and grew up around the faded, +watery eyes; the other’s parchment-like face a network of wrinkles. +Honesty shone from every part of them; the weak, helpless honesty of +their kind. + +As Colton took each man’s hand with a murmured greeting he felt it +tremble in his. The aged watchmen knew that something had happened; +something that concerned them and the bank they had guarded so long. The +two men from the burglar-alarm company nodded to the two detectives, and +their eyes narrowed as they shook the hand of the problemist. Both knew +him, and both knew this had been no common summons. Thornley Colton +never bothered with common things. Sydney Thames had pulled two chairs +up to the table, and the old men sat down. Colton lighted a cigarette +thoughtfully, then he spoke: + +“This morning, gentlemen, that small safe was robbed of five hundred +thousand dollars’ worth of government bonds.” His slim cane, apparently +held idly between his fingers, touching the chair of the man nearest +him, felt the watchman’s involuntary jump. The others saw the old jaws +drop, saw the watchmen glance helplessly at each other, their trembling +fingers picking at worn trouser-knees. Colton heard the gasp of the two +protective-agency men. + +“I knowed it!” quavered the white-whiskered watchman. “I knowed +something’d happen when Mary took sick.” + +“Who’s Mary?” queried Colton interestedly. The others crowded forward. + +“She’s Mary, my wife. She’s been scrubbin’ the bank floors fer thirty +years, an’ nobody ever said a word against her.” He glanced at them all +with pathetic belligerence. “She even picked up the pins she found on +the floor, and put ’em in a box on the cashier’s desk.” + +“That’s true,” laughed Simpson. “It’s the joke of the bank.” + +“And she was taken sick last night?” Thornley asked gently. + +“A week ago.” The other watchman answered, while the first brushed his +dry lips with his work-gnarled hand. “Mrs. Bowden, she’s got the +consumption, and lives across the hall from us and----” + +“Where do you live?” interrupted Colton. + +“Sixteen hundred Third Avenue. I been boardin’ with him an’ his wife fer +thirty years. Mrs. Bowden’s been doin’ Mary’s work. We didn’t say +nothin’ about Mary bein’ sick, ’cause she might get laid off. An’ Mrs. +Bowden’s awful poor.” His voice was a childish, quavering treble. + +“Last night, after Mrs. Bowden had gained your confidence, you allowed +her to scrub Mr. Norris’s office?” encouraged Colton. + +Norris started. “I’d forgotten that!” he ejaculated. A motion from +Colton commanded silence. + +“Yes,” trembled Mary’s husband. “John opened the door, an’ started to +punch his clocks, an’ I stayed in the ante-room, like I allus do, to +watch Mrs. Bowden. Then somehow the door got closed. An’ Mrs. Bowden got +scared there in the dark. She screamed an’ cried till it was real sad. +But John had the key, an’ he had to punch his clocks on the minute, er +Mr. Montrose’d be mad when he got the records next day. An’ I couldn’t +leave my place in the ante-room. So I encouraged her, sayin’ that +John’ld be back in half an hour an’ let her out. She quieted after a +while, an’ didn’t scream so loud, but I could hear her stumblin’ around. +Then John had to run to the front door to see who was knockin’, an’ he +let these gentlemen in. The burglar-alarm on the safe had rung, they +said, an’----” + +“Never mind that part,” halted Colton. “One of these men will tell me +that part.” + +“We was called at seven-eighteen,” began the taller of the two Bankers’ +Protective Agency men, “by the safe bell. The safe is connected with one +wire, and under the carpet, running all around the safe, is a thin steel +plate connected with the other. A man standing near enough to touch the +safe forms a connection that rings our gong. In the day-time, of course, +we pull the switch. We got here, and found the door locked, an’ we could +hear moaning. This guy”--he indicated the one with the straggly +beard--“unlocked the door, and behind it was a woman, her skirt pinned +up around her, laying on the floor, frightened to death. When she seen +us she jumped to her feet with a little screech, and muttered something +about thanking God.” + +“You were satisfied that she was frightened?” + +“Sure! But we didn’t let it go at that. We snapped on every light, and +examined the room. Nothing had been touched. We frisked the woman, +gentle, of course, but enough to know that she hadn’t a thing on her. We +finally got it out of her that she’d fell against the safe trying to +find the door in the dark. She didn’t know enough to snap on a light.” + +“She couldn’t have had fifty ten-thousand-dollar bonds on her person?” + +Both men laughed. “Gee, Mr. Colton,” laughed the short one. “She was so +frail you could almost see through her. She couldn’t hardly have hid a +cigarette paper without making a hump.” + +“What happened then?” + +“She picked up the pail she had--it was full of dirty scrub water, and +the yellow bar of soap was bobbing around in it--and John, here, took +her into the cashier’s cage. We hung around, talking, an’ watching her +scrub and weep into the pail until it was time fer her to go home. She +was so all in I put her on a car.” + +“Um!” Colton puffed his cigarette in silence; then he turned to Jamison +and his partner. “Looks mighty suspicious, doesn’t it, Jamison? I’d +advise you to arrest these four men and get the woman. Five hundred +thousand is likely to make any honest man a crook.” + +“Some kidder, ain’t you?” sneered Jamison. “I know Pete, there, an’ if +he says it was all right, it was. We got the guilty parties first off, +an’ we’ll get the stuff, too!” + +The smile went from Colton’s lips instantly. “You arrest them, and we’ll +start false-arrest proceedings in an hour!” he warned. “You leave Norris +and Miss Richmond here! Any one but a fool detective would know they +weren’t guilty.” + +As he said the last word he jumped toward the safe, ran his highly +sensitive fingers over the steel surface, knelt down, brushed the heavy +carpet lightly with his finger tips. The two hectic spots on his cheeks +glowed redder; the nostrils quivered like those of a hound on the scent, +even the eyes, behind the great, round, smoked glass lenses seemed to +shine. Silently they watched him. He lowered his face almost to the +floor, the cane was laid down, and his hand gave the carpet a resounding +slap. They crowded closer. One hand went to his hip-pocket, a +handkerchief brushed the hard-wood floor under the safe, between the +edge of the rug and the wall. He rose, touched the burning end of his +cigarette ever so lightly to the linen handkerchief that was now covered +with a fine yellow powder. + +“See it! See it!” he snapped. “You couldn’t before because it was the +same colour as the hard-wood floor.” + +“It’s wood-polish powder, used for cleaning the varnished wood,” sneered +Jamison, stepping forward. “We don’t want----” + +“Smell it, then!” The blind man thrust the handkerchief under the +central-office man’s nose. “Do you recognize it now? It’s sulphur. +Ordinary powdered sulphur. The thing that would tell any man how the +bonds were taken out of the office. Go to a drug store and find out what +sulphur is used for.” + +He thrust the handkerchief into his coat-pocket, brushed off the knees +of his trousers, and picked up his stick. + +“Come, Sydney,” he said quietly. “We’ve finished.” + +Before the astonished men could make move or protest he hurried from the +office, automatically counting the steps. He jumped into the waiting +machine, Sydney Thames followed, and as Simpson and Jamison ran to the +door, he snapped: “Home, John!” to the Irish chauffeur, and the machine +sped away. + +Around the first corner he leaned forward. + +“Sixteen hundred Third Avenue--quick!” he ordered. + +“You don’t think those two old watchmen guilty?” asked Thames, in +surprise. + +“No!” The tone was almost brusque. “Merely an unimportant detail I want +to clear up.” + +“You certainly left that crowd in the office at sixes and sevens.” +Thames laughed at the recollection. + +“I intended to. That’s why I went into all those details. I wanted to +leave every one up in the air, especially the two detectives. They’ll +begin to think now. And they won’t let any one get away before we have +made this call. I want to think, now.” + +Sydney Thames knew the moods of the blind man; knew he could expect no +explanations, or even replies, until Colton was ready to give them; so +they sped in silence to the upper East Side. + +Soon they were on upper Third Avenue. Overhead the clanking “L” trains +pounded their din into the two men’s ears. The streets were crowded with +their heterogeneous mass of men, women, and children. The rusty +fire-escapes staggered drunkenly across the dirty, red tenement-fronts. + +The look of tense concentration left Colton’s face. “A far cry from the +luxurious, staidly conservative Berkley Trust, eh, Sydney?” He smiled, +leaning back in the cushions, puffing his cigarette as though untroubled +by a serious thought; his eyes, behind the smoked library glasses, +seemingly fixed on the narrow strip of blue sky overhead. + +The car came to a stop. + +“Is this it, John?” + +“Th’ saloon on th’ corner is fifteen-ninety-four, sorr.” + +“Lead the way, Sydney.” Again the twin red spots glowed in Colton’s +white cheeks, he jumped to the sidewalk, his slim stick tapping his +trouser-leg eagerly. + +Thames stepped along beside him, close enough for his coat-sleeve to +touch that of Thornley Colton. And with that slight touch to guide him +the problemist followed; for Thornley Colton was a trifle sensitive over +his blindness, and nothing made him angrier than an attempt to lead him. +Sydney found the entrance, between a second-hand-clothing store and a +pawnbroker’s shop. As he stopped to make sure of the weather-dimmed, +painted number the clothing-store proprietor popped out, rubbing his +dirty palms together, and coughing apologetically. + +“On which floor does Mrs. Bowden live?” asked Colton sharply. + +“Der fourt’, front. You maybe like some clo’es?” + +“Is her husband watchman at the Berkley Trust Company?” + +“He’s dead. You means Mrs. Schneider, across the hall. Her man watches. +Dere boarder also. You like a elegant skirt for der poor vimens. Such +a----” + +Thames opened the door, and they left the clothing man in the middle of +his sentence. In the dark hall Sydney made his way cautiously. Colton, +cane lightly touching the heels of the man ahead, followed +unhesitatingly. The journey up the rickety steps was torture to Colton. +To his doubly acute ears and sense of smell the odours, the squalling of +half-starved babies were terrible, but his brain automatically counted +the steps so that he would have not the slightest difficulty in finding +his way back to the automobile. + +“Schneider first,” whispered Colton, as Thames stopped in the +fourth-floor hall. + +In the dim light Thames saw that they were standing between two doors. + +“I don’t know which it is, but I’ll take a chance.” He knocked on the +one at his left. + +The one behind immediately popped open. + +“Mrs. Bowden’s gone away,” shrilly proclaimed a tottery old woman, +bobbing her head. + +“Could you give us her address?” asked Colton, doffing his hat and +bowing politely. + +“Laws!” The woman’s fluttering hand set her spectacles farther askew, in +a hurried effort to straighten them. “She’s gone to spend the day with +her sister in Brooklyn. Them boys of mine pestered her till she’s near +sick. And she bein’ so delicat’ an’ out late last night washin’ dishes +at the church sociable.” + +“Are you Mrs. Schneider?” + +The darkness hid the smile the reference to the “boys” had caused. + +“I’m her. Be you the Associated Charities? Mis’ Bowden said she’d asked +fer help. She came here two weeks ago, after losin’ her job in the +department store on account of her weak lungs. She had to take in odd +day’s work. Asthma, _she_ calls it, but I ain’t fooled on consumption. +Two of my----” + +“And you helped her by pretending you were ill?” interrupted Colton. + +“I was sick fer two days.” The woman hastened to set him right. “But she +was so powerful glad to earn a few cents fer her asthma snuff, not that +it is asthma. My sister’s brother----” + +“Of course she left the key with you until her return?” Colton left the +sister’s brother in mid-air. + +“Yes; but----” There was just a shade of suspicion in the voice. + +“As agents of the Associated Charities we must make an examination of +the room, to prove that she is really in need of financial help,” +assured Colton gravely. “We can wait until she returns, of course, but +this is the last application day for this month.” + +“Laws! I’ll get it right away.” She darted back into the room with +surprising agility, and returned a moment later with an iron key tied to +a broken-tined fork. + +“There’s no need of bothering you, Mrs. Schneider,” declared Colton +earnestly, as Thames took the key. + +“Laws! Soon’s I get these pataters on I’ll be right with you. My boys +had to go down to their bank----” The rest of the sentence was lost, for +as she turned to the stove Colton had jerked Thames from the door. + +“Quick!” he whispered. In an instant the key was in the lock, and the +door was open. Colton pushed his way in, his cane touching the scarred, +tumbled bed and the one broken chair. “Where’s the trunk?” he queried, +cane feeling around. + +“No sign of one, nor a case.” + +“Damn!” snapped Colton. “The bureau drawers! See what your eyes find.” + +Thames had the top drawer open almost before he had finished. He +whistled in amazement. “Nothing but an empty pill-box, with no +druggist’s label, three quills with the feathers cut off, and a tuft of +cotton. What the----” + +“Those are what I want! Put them in your pocket!” The tenseness went out +of his voice; it became politely ingratiating, for his keen ears had +heard the woman coming. “There is no doubt that Mrs. Bowden is in need +of our assistance, Mrs. Schneider,” he said smoothly. “Er--is that some +of her asthma snuff in the top bureau-drawer?” + +She ran past him, and bobbed her head over the open drawer. “Yes, sir; +there is a little sprinkled over the bottom. You got mighty powerful +eyes, mister.” She nodded vigorously at the blind man. He had not been +within five feet of the bureau. “She’s dead set on it bein’ asthma, but +my sister’s brother was----” + +“Do you know anything against Mrs. Bowden’s character?” Again the +sister’s brother was left dangling. + +“Laws, no. She’s that frightened she’s afraid of her own shadow. I’m the +on’y one in the house she took to, an’ even me she kept at a distance.” +Another vigorous nod. “An’ so modest! Laws, she wouldn’t ha’ come into +the halls half dressed, like some of the other women does. An’ clean! +Laws! She lugged all her clo’es over to her sister’s in Brooklyn to-day, +to be washed in their Thirtieth Century Washer; not that I----” + +“Ah, thank you, but we have four other calls to make.” And, bowing +gravely, Colton backed from the room, and hurried toward the head of the +stairs, followed by Thames and the shrill-voiced encomiums of the woman. + +They took their places in the car silently, and it was not until they +had left the noise of the avenue for the quiet of the side-streets that +Colton spoke. + +“What do you think of it, Sydney?” asked the problemist gravely. + +“I’m completely at sea,” confessed Thames, with a shake of his head. “It +looked awfully bad for Norris when we arrived at the bank. Then that +South American boat business. How did you know she had received a +message?” he asked suddenly. + +“Didn’t. But I knew Miss Richmond, or rather Mrs. Norris. Common sense +would have told any one that could be the only reason for her presence +at the dock. Jamison and his kind don’t use common sense. They use the +old policeman’s formula; arrest the logical suspect and then convict +him. With persons like Norris and his wife, each half doubting, half +suspecting, either would have confessed to save the other. It was an +ideal arrest, from the police view-point.” + +“Then you seemed to involve the two watchmen and the two men from the +protective agency. Jamison will have a whole waggon-load.” + +“He’ll take no one,” answered Colton. “I know him. He’ll spend the rest +of the day trying to find out what I was talking about. Then he’ll +telephone to head-quarters, and they’ll send men to find out who sent +the message to Miss Richmond, and to locate Mrs. Bowden.” + +“There’s the woman, Thorn!” Thames spoke nervously, excitedly. “She took +a dress-suit case, presumably full of clothes, to her ‘sister’ in +Brooklyn. The bonds----” + +“You forget that the agency men saw her come out of the room +empty-handed; they even searched her, and one put her on the trolley.” +Colton smiled curiously. “This was wholly a man’s job, Sydney. The work +of the rarest kind of criminal; a detailist. This crime, while perfectly +simple, is, I think, unique in its attention to details. That’s why it +interests me.” + +“Simple!” ejaculated Thames. “Simple? You speak as though you knew the +guilty man.” + +“I do. Perfectly. I knew last night.” + +“Last night? The----” + +“The robbery was committed early to-day. Exactly.” + +“Why--why----” Helpless amazement was in Sydney Thames’s voice. “Why +don’t you arrest him? Why all this----” + +“Simply because I would be laughed at. I haven’t the proof--yet. The +usual criminal stumbles on his opportunity, and seizes it in a haphazard +fashion. The rare criminal, the detailist, attends to every detail; +works his problem out with the shrewdness and forethought of a captain +of finance, plans a coup months ahead. Then he creates the opportunity. +You must understand, Sydney, that half a million is worth a few months’ +work.” + +“But suspicion points only to Miss Richmond, Norris, and this Mrs. +Bowden.” + +“Suspicion points to every one,” corrected the problemist. “Doesn’t it +seem suspicious that President Montrose should call in the police when +he would naturally take all steps in his power to avoid publicity? +Doesn’t the very eagerness of the central-office men to arrest Norris +and his wife seem queer? Isn’t there a bit of suspicion in Simpson’s +confession that he delayed the Stillson estate until Norris was +compelled to work after hours on them? Doesn’t Miss Richmond’s story +that she was carrying her suit home to save work for a delivery boy seem +highly improbable and unwomanlike? How about Norris telling his wife of +the bonds? An unbusinesslike proceeding in the case of half a million’s +worth of negotiable bonds, truly. Didn’t the two men who answered the +early-morning alarm seem a bit too sure that nothing was wrong? Weren’t +the two watchmen in the conspiracy to pretend that Mrs. Schneider was +ill, so that a woman whom they had known but two weeks could gain access +to the bank? Doesn’t the finding of an unlabelled pill-box, three +featherless quills, and surgeon’s cotton in the otherwise empty room of +a woman dying with tuberculosis strike you as strange? As a further +detail in this crime of details, doesn’t my confession that I knew the +criminal before the crime was committed seem a trifle like guilty +knowledge?” He smiled broadly. + +“Great Scott, Thorn!” Sydney Thames’s voice trailed off in a whistle of +pure bewilderment. “You’ve involved every one.” + +“Oh, no.” Colton snapped his cigarette into the street. “Not every one. +An unfortunate vaudeville actor will appear on the scene as soon as I +get the list on which I left Shrimp busily at work.” + + + III. + +In the absolute darkness of the shade-drawn library Thornley Colton +softly whistled a syncopated version of Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song” as +his deft fingers filled an empty goose-quill with a fine white powder +from an improvised paper funnel. He plugged the open end with a small +wad of cotton; then his wonderfully sharp ears caught the rustle of the +double portières. + +“Oh, Sydney,” he called, “have you heard anything from the bank this +morning?” + +Thames entered the darkness unhesitatingly, for his constant practice of +judging distance and figuring steps for Colton had made him almost as +much at home in the darkness as the blind man himself. + +“No,” he answered shortly. Then, with the frank criticism of long +friendship: “It’s a crime, Thorn, for you to be idle while that girl is +being dogged, and harassed, and----” + +“I thought she sang remarkably well last night for a person under such a +strain,” interrupted Colton musingly. + +“It was wonderful, wonderful!” Sydney Thames spoke with the breathless +enthusiasm a beautiful girl always aroused in his woman-hungry heart. + +“Here, here!” protested the problemist laughingly. “Remember that she is +another man’s wife!” + +“Great heavens, Thorn! How can you laugh?” cried Thames resentfully. +“Think of those two dogs of detectives, questioning, bulldozing, +shadowing! Why, they didn’t let Miss Richmond get away from the bank +until late in the afternoon, then Jamison insisted on going with her. +His partner hung around the bank till it closed----” + +“Trying to discover the use of powdered sulphur,” smiled Colton. “I +thought he would. Any one but a central-office man would have gone to a +drug store, as I suggested.” + +“Two other head-quarters men hauled that frail old Mrs. Schneider and +the two watchmen to police head-quarters, and put them through the third +degree.” + +“And a half-dozen more were on the trail of Mrs. Bowden, while we were +enjoying the opera and an alleged cabaret show afterward, for which this +dark room is the penalty. Too much light yesterday gave me a frightful +headache.” + +The sudden ringing of the telephone in the darkness made Thames jump, +and Colton’s cane, which was never away from him, felt the movement. + +“Answer it, Sydney,” he requested. + +The secretary’s hands had not the sureness of his feet, and he had to +fumble a moment. When he had given the customary salutation and had +listened a moment he gasped: + +“It’s Simpson, Thorn. His wife is missing! He wants you.” He extended +the phone in the darkness, but Thornley Colton made no move to take it. + +“Tell him I’ll be down to the bank in an hour or so. I’ll see him then.” +Colton spoke idly. + +Sydney repeated the message. Followed a silence. “He’s frantic, Thorn!” +Thames’s voice shook with excitement. “When he got home last night she +was gone. The doorman at his apartment house said that she had gone out +in the morning, for a short walk, he supposed. Simpson was so excited +about the robbery he did not telephone her during the day, as he had +promised. He spent half the night searching, and tried a dozen times to +get you. She is deaf and dumb, Thorn. Think of it! Deaf and dumb, and +lost!” It only needed a woman in trouble to shatter Sydney Thames’s +nerves. + +“Tell him that I’m trying to figure out that robbery. Tell him also that +I never let one case interfere with another. I’m not a detective. +There’s nothing interesting about a missing woman. Hundreds of ’em every +day. I find my pleasure in interesting problems, not in police work.” +Colton’s voice was sharp, curt, utterly devoid of sympathy. + +Sydney knew that tone, as he knew the man who used it. He repeated part +of the message, added gentle-voiced apologies, and hung up the receiver +with a sigh. + +“That was heartless, Thorn! Think of that woman, deaf and dumb, lost in +this----” + +“Sometimes, Sydney, that susceptible heart of yours becomes wearisome.” +Colton spoke a bit sharply. “A moment ago you were protesting because I +was here instead of running around after the man who stole the +half-million in bonds from the Berkley Trust Company.” + +“But Mrs. Norris is not helpless----” And for fifteen minutes he argued, +while Colton smiled imperturbably in the darkness, and filled two other +quills with the white powder, and plugged the ends with tufts of cotton. + +Suddenly Thames stopped, for Colton had picked up the telephone and was +giving a number. + +“Hello, Shrimp!” he called, when the connection had been made. +“Everything all right? Fine business. Three hours, eh? Good! Be on time, +and obey orders. Good-bye!” + +“Where’s The Fee?” demanded Sydney. “I haven’t seen him since +yesterday.” + +“Emulating the example of his worthy hero, Nick Carter. Shrimp is a real +detective now.” Colton returned the crystalless watch to his pocket, +picked up the three quills, and arose. “Come on, Sydney. We’ll walk over +to the bank.” + +“Walk?” ejaculated Thames, for he knew the blind man’s aversion to +walking when he could ride. “Where’s the machine?” + +“John and the machine are helping Shrimp in his detective work,” +explained Colton. And in the twenty minutes’ walk to the Berkley Trust +Company he absolutely refused to answer questions, but kept up a +continuous conversation on trivial topics, that was maddening to the +nervous secretary. + +The effect of the previous day’s badgering, questioning, and threats of +the central-office men could be seen as one entered the bank. The aged +cashier’s hands trembled as he tried to count a sheaf of new bills. +Book-keepers in the rear wrote figures and erased them. Thompson, head +of the trust and estate clerks, in his little ante-room cage, was in a +pitiable state of nerves. The typewriter’s chair by President Montrose’s +desk was vacant, because the lady stenographer was at home under the +care of a doctor. The fifty years of staid, conservative calm that had +characterized the Berkley Trust Company during its long and useful life +had been hit by a five-hundred-thousand-dollar storm. + +The group in the vaultlike office of Second Secretary Norris was little +better. President Montrose could hardly control his trembling hand to +stroke his Vandyke; Norris’s eyes showed the sleeplessness of the night +before; Miss Richmond was calm with the calmness that means coming +nervous collapse; her mother was crying softly; Simpson seemed +positively haggard, and Sydney Thames murmured words of sympathy for the +man who had two troubles. Jamison and the other central-office man could +not make their sneers wholly sceptical. The protective-agency men were +plainly puzzled. + +“I see you are all on hand.” There was no smile in Colton’s voice now, +or on his lips; he was deadly calm, coldly earnest. “You didn’t think it +necessary to send for the two watchmen?” + +“We got men watchin’ them,” put in the surly Jamison. + +“Thanks!” came curtly from Colton. “Sit down at this table, all of you. +I want to tell you a story.” + +“We didn’t come to hear----” + +Simpson interrupted the detective: “For God’s sake, make it short, Mr. +Colton! My wife----” + +“I’ll look into that later.” Colton’s cane assured him that the chairs +were around the long table, and his finger-tips felt the face of his +watch in his pocket. + +“Will you?” Simpson’s voice was almost sarcastically eager, his +heavy-lidded eyes narrowed. Thames could not blame the man’s natural +resentment for Colton’s offhandedness. + +Silently they took seats. Colton sat facing the closed door; across the +table was Simpson and Norris. Miss Richmond and her mother were at the +end. The four detectives were on either side of the problemist. + +“This is a story of a criminal who was born a criminal; who couldn’t be +honest if he tried,” began Colton, in his quietly expressive voice. One +hand lay idly on the table before him, the other on his knees, fingers +holding the slim, hollow cane. “He wasn’t just born crooked. He started +petty thieving before he was out of short trousers. He was the rare +criminal that works years as an honest man to pave the way for +criminality. He had brains. He could have been a wonderful success as an +honest man. But he couldn’t be straight. The criminal instinct was +there. He was waiting for the proper time. But the coarser side of his +nature refused to be held in leash. He needed money. And with the +inherent craft of his kind he began to plan the robbery of the Berkley +Trust Company. It wasn’t so hard, because, being an old, conservative +institution, in which men had grown gray, the personal side entered as +it cannot in the modern, up-to-date institutions where men come and go. +Instead of elaborate safeguards the simple protection of proven honesty +entered largely into the protection of the bank’s valuables. And where +there is simple honesty there is always vulnerability. + +“This criminal had found the vulnerable spot years before the robbery +was actually planned; when the time came for its consummation luck came +to his aid, as it often does.” He paused. On the outside door came a +knock, so faint that only his wonderfully sharp ears heard it. “There +was no possibility of suspicion attaching itself to him, for he had +planned an elaborate programme to foist suspicion on others. And this +robbery was but one of a series, for the method his shrewd brain had +devised was capable of endless combinations. In a few years the Berkley +Trust losses would have mounted to millions!” + +His fist crashed down on the heavy table. The door opened. Between the +sober-faced Shrimp and the expressionless Irish chauffeur was a +sunken-eyed, tottering creature, unshaven---- + +“_There’s your wife, Simpson!_” In the silence Colton’s voice came like +the crack of a pistol. + +“My God, Thorn, it’s a _man_!” In Sydney Thames’s tone was agony that +the sensitive blind man whom he loved could have made such a mistake. + +“Yes, a man! _Sit still, Simpson!_” With a movement as quick as light +itself Colton’s fingers had dropped the slim cane that had given its +warning, and held a blue-steel automatic. “Or rather what was once a +man.” His tone rang with deadly menace. “Charlie de Roque, vaudeville +actor, the youngest and best female impersonator on the stage; Mrs. +Bowden, the consumptive who played so well on the sympathies of the +three simple-minded souls at sixteen-hundred Third Avenue; Mrs. Simpson, +the deaf-and-dumb little girl who was going to make Simpson lead a +better life.” + +“You lie!” The shambling shadow of a man screamed it as he tried to jerk +away from the chauffeur. “They told me they were going to take me to a +sanatorium. I don’t know what you’re talking about. They’ve kept me----” +His whole body racked with sobs. + +“Would you tell the truth for these?” The automatic did not waver a +fraction of an inch as Colton’s unoccupied hand threw down on the table +three cotton-plugged quills. + +“Merciful God! _Yes!_” With insane strength he broke away from the big +Irishman and darted to the table. His twitching fingers snatched a +quill, pulled the cotton from the end, threw his head back---- + +“Enough of these damn’ theatrics!” Simpson snarled it viciously, but he +did not move. “By Heaven, Colton, you can’t railroad me to save Norris +and his wife with the fool ravings of a cocaine snuffler!” His face was +purple, the veins in his forehead seemed ready to burst. “Mrs. Bowden!” +He scoffed. “How did she get the bonds? Where are they? Find ’em!” he +laughed triumphantly at Colton across the table, and the two +central-office men who now stood over him. + +“Here yuh are, Mr. Colton.” It was Shrimp, staggering under the weight +of a big bucket of dirty water. He set it down beside the problemist’s +chair. + +“The bonds are here, Simpson!” Colton’s hand plunged into the water, and +came up with a dripping, shiny black object. “There’s the first package, +in an all-rubber ice bag!” + +“You devil!” Simpson’s rage made his voice a scream. + +“Take your prisoner, policemen.” Colton could not refrain from adding +that last scornful word to the two detectives who had not seen until a +blind man had shown them. + + + IV. + +“Of course, De Roque, who was merely the drug-crazed tool of the real +criminal, would have told where the bonds were,” declared Thornley +Colton, when they were once more in the shade-drawn library of the big, +old-fashioned house. “But Simpson would have had time to be on his +guard. The finding of the bonds, as I did, before he had time to recover +his nerve, drew from him those last betraying words. The police can +establish his connection with the telephone message to Miss Richmond, +the booking of the two passages under the name of Morris, and the place +where he and De Roque met while the fake Mrs. Bowden was supposed to be +out at day’s work. Those details were not even worth bothering with, for +me, because the keyboard of silence told me the guilty persons before +the robbery was committed.” + +“I am as much at sea as ever,” confessed Sydney Thames. + +“In the Regal we saw the first act. Simpson, with the dare-devilishness +that characterizes the type, introduced me to the accomplice. It was not +wholly dare-devilishness, however, for it was to prepare the get-away. +He wanted, before the time came for her to disappear, to arouse your +sympathy and my interest in the deaf-and-dumb woman, whom he had married +to accomplish his reformation. After a fruitless search he would need a +long vacation in Europe, with the bonds, of course, to recover from the +shock. There could be no suspicion attached to him. No sane man would +look for a deaf-and-dumb wife in the person of a vaudeville actor dying +of tuberculosis and cocaine who had drug dreams of money coming his way. +Once Simpson had gotten out of the country, De Roque could have raved +and stormed, even confessed, and his confession would have been accepted +as nothing but cocaine dementia. Simpson never intended to play fair; it +isn’t his nature. From the first time I ever shook his hand I have known +him to be a born criminal, for I can read hands as the physiognomist +reads faces. And I have the advantage, because men like Simpson, with +the aid of their strong wills, can mask their emotions behind eyes and +faces so that no man can read their minds. But they have never given a +thought to their hands.” + +“Do you mean to say you could tell what Simpson was planning by shaking +his hands there in the Regal?” demanded Thames incredulously. + +“Not quite,” protested Colton laughingly. “But you know how I shake +hands. My long index finger always rests lightly on the keyboard of +silence--the wrist. With a touch like mine, so light that I can read +handwriting by feeling the ridges left on the blank side of the paper, +not one person in a million could feel it. I think Miss Richmond did, +when I shook hands with her, because I felt a responsive thrill. In the +case of Simpson his heart was working like a steam-engine, though his +face and eyes were a mask that neither you nor any man with eyes could +read; my finger-tip on his pulse told me that he was labouring under +some strong excitement. When I shook hands with his ‘wife,’ I discovered +why.” + +“Why?” echoed Thames blankly. + +“Because the wife was a man, and a drug-fiend.” + +“Your hand told you that, and my eyes were deceived!” + +“My knowledge of anatomy told me the man part. Don’t you know that over +the muscles of a woman is a layer of fat that gives the beautiful +feminine curves? The man’s muscles play directly under the skin, and the +curves of female impersonators are due to flabby muscles, and not the +feminine fat layer. Besides, the cocaine pulse of the ‘wife,’ my +finger-tip immediately felt the play of the muscles as the hand gripped +mine. Knowing Simpson, the impersonation could mean nothing else but a +contemplated crime. I further proved it by getting her to put out her +hand before she could have had any knowledge, by signs, of my intention +to say good-bye. Remember my reference to lipreading? Simpson was taking +no chance of letting her talk. The cocaine gave her the brightness of +eye, and the heavily-daubed rouge I knew would have to be there to +convince you that she was really a country girl who didn’t know the use +of cosmetics, and also to cover any trace of man’s beard and cocaine +pastiness of skin. It would have deceived any one who had eyes, where an +artistic make-up would immediately have aroused suspicion. Simpson was a +wonderful detailist. + +“Commonsense told me that Simpson could not risk working with an +amateur. Therefore I set Shrimp to looking up actors who had been forced +to leave the stage on account of ill health within the last two months. +The whole thing must have been rehearsed many times, for the detailist +would overlook no detail. In Shrimp’s list was De Roque. A few telephone +inquiries proved that he was really a cocaine fiend of the worst kind, +also that he had returned, yesterday morning, from a sanitarium, no +better, to his old boarding-house. It was Simpson’s scheme to let him do +that, for it eliminated him. As soon as I found out that Simpson would +not risk visiting him, Shrimp and John got him on the pretence that they +were from Simpson. Cocaine snufflers as far gone as he need the drug +every hour. For three hours before the time arranged for Shrimp to bring +him to the bank De Roque hadn’t had a pinch; he was insane with craving. +The visit to Third Avenue, and the finding of the quills which cocaine +snufflers use to hide the stuff on their bodies and conceal it in their +palms so that no one can see them snuff it gave me the things I needed +to make him talk. You saw how they worked.” + +“But the detectives who helped him out of the room? How did you ever +figure the possibility of the bonds being in the scrub water?” + +“The protective-agency men told me. Their eyes saw what my lack of eyes +understood. The yellow bar of soap bobbing on top of the water, I think +one of them expressed it. An instant’s intelligent thought would tell +any one that the yellow soap used for scrubbing floors never floats. The +finding of the powdered sulphur showed me the clever ice-bag trick, for +powdered sulphur is always used by druggists to keep the thin rubber +from sticking together when the bags are in the boxes. Of course, De +Roque carried it with him every night waiting for his opportunity, and +in pulling it out the powder scattered on the carpet. The natural thing +was to brush it under the safe, where my handkerchief found it after my +slapping hand had raised the scattered grains he had missed. + +“The ringing of the burglar-alarm was a master-stroke. It was the link +necessary to establish the innocence of Mrs. Bowden. Simpson, of course, +knew of the connection. De Roque probably removed his shoes and stood on +the rubber ice-bags while he opened the safe and took out the bonds and +papers Simpson had so accurately described. Then, when they had all been +packed and the safe closed, a natural stumbling against the safe would +bring the protective-agency men to swear that nothing could have been +taken from the room. When the time came to leave the building, the pail, +still full of water, was carefully put in a far, dark corner of the +cellar closet, where the scrub pails and mops are kept. It would have +been safe until Simpson was ready to take the bonds away. That was why I +worked to keep Jamison and his partner around the bank; I didn’t want +Simpson to have any opportunity to get the loot out. + +“Of course, it was he who suggested the calling of the regular police to +the flustered President Montrose. Because, while he was sure that he +could deceive me, he wasn’t taking any foolish risks. He wanted the +central-office men to muddle the thing as much as possible, and he was +shrewd enough not to overdo the casting of suspicion on Norris and his +wife; the way he put in a word here and there, and looks, of course, was +quite in keeping with the other details. This morning, I think, he had +begun to realize what I was doing, but there was nothing he could do but +count on a bluff. I took him off his guard.” + +For several minutes the two men smoked in silence. + +“But why didn’t you warn some one instead of letting the robbery go on?” +Sydney asked finally. + +Colton’s expressive lips framed a wry smile. “You will insist on showing +the fly in the ointment, Sydney. The truth is, I was caught napping. But +I guess it’s just as well I didn’t. Jails are built for the protection +of society, and Simpson is the one man in a thousand against whom +society needs protection.” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + THE SECOND PROBLEM + + UNTO THE THIRD GENERATION + + + I. + +For weeks the five-hundred-thousand-dollar reception of the Jimmy +Raeltons had been heralded as the greatest event of the New York social +season. The news columns had been filled with accounts of the costly +preparations, the wonderful gowns, the millions in jewels that would +grace the first appearance of the Raeltons in society since the +Carlton-Browne reception of thirteen months before. The newspapers had +retold, lest their readers should forget, the tragic story of the +mysterious suicide of Mrs. Jimmy Raelton’s sister, Mrs. Donald Wreye, on +the night following the Carlton-Browne affair. The consequent retirement +of the Raeltons had been reviewed; the report of the ill health of Mrs. +Raelton had been substantiated; and the two months’ cruise on the +palatial Raelton yacht was said to have brought back the bloom to faded +cheeks. And to-night the Jimmy Raeltons were formally to re-enter New +York’s social scheme of things; again to fill the niche that had been +vacant for thirteen months. + +The small army of police herded the curious crowd from the side-walk as +a black limousine drove up silently and came to a stop at the canopied +curb. The door swung open, and men and women, who would stand patiently +for hours to catch a mere glimpse of the notables they worshipped from +afar, saw the first man alight. The electric globe under the awning +brought out the striking whiteness of the face and hair; the contrast of +the great blue circles of the smoked-glass, tortoise-rimmed library +spectacles that rested lightly on the thin nose; the broad shoulders, +and deep chest under the Inverness. The first arrival rapped the +pavement lightly with the slim stick he carried as the apple-cheeked, +black-haired man who accompanied him spoke a word to the driver and +stepped beside him. + +A policeman touched his hat. “Early, ain’t you, Mr. Colton?” he greeted +the other. + +“These things never interest me, Peters,” returned Thornley Colton, in +his deep, musical voice. “A quiet chat with Jimmy and my goddaughter +before the crowd arrives, then home and quiet.” + +He started briskly toward the wide steps, the red-cheeked man so close +that his coat-sleeve touched that of the other. The policeman turned to +his partner. + +“A great guy, Tom,” he observed, in a hoarse whisper. “He says he’s +blind, an’ everybody else says he’s blind, but if he is, then I wish I +was! That’s all.” + +The two men had ascended the steps. A man of impassive face opened the +door, two others took their coats and sticks. Silent-footed servants +were everywhere, deftly arranging the last details before the guests +should arrive. On every hand was evidence of the lavishness that would +mark the reception; but it was the lavishness of good taste, not the +garishness of mere money. Through the great, high hall they were +conducted to the Moorish room, where Jimmy Raelton greeted them with +characteristic enthusiasm. But the superkeen ears of Thornley Colton +caught an undercurrent of seriousness in the host’s voice. + +“Robbery?” he asked quietly, as the slim, hollow stick he always carried +found a chair. + +“Scott, yes!” laughed Raelton; then, seriously: “That mind-reading stunt +of yours is positively uncanny at times, Colton.” + +“Simple elimination,” explained the blind problemist. “Something more +serious would have been given publicity before this; something less +serious would not have caused you to ask us here an hour before guests +should arrive.” + +“It’s more puzzling than really serious,” declared Raelton. “You know +I’m so foolishly happy to-night because Dorothy is herself again that +nothing else could really matter.” His face lighted up boyishly. The +Jimmy Raeltons had been married five years, and society still called +them the Newlyweds. + +He took a small leather case from the inlaid taboret beside him, and +snapped open the lid. Sydney Thames, the blind man’s secretary and +constant companion, could not repress a gasp of admiration as the +wonderful diamond necklace sent its thousand flashing fires toward the +shaded lights above. + +“This is the thing I wanted to see you about,” quizzically smiled Jimmy +Raelton, as he extended the open case toward the blind man. A question +would be needed here, at least. + +Colton took the case, weighed it on his open palm an instant, brushed +the stones ever so lightly with the tip of his forefinger, and snapped +shut the lid. + +“Worth fifty thousand--if it wasn’t paste,” he announced. + +“Good Lord!” Raelton sank weakly into a big morris chair, the one +anachronism his comfort-loving body demanded. + +“To a person with highly sensitive finger-tips there can be no such +thing as a fake diamond; because no crystal less hard will hold a +sharply-defined facet edge. When, and how, was the substitution made?” + +“That is just the point. Since the morning following the Carlton-Browne +reception they have been in the safe-deposit vault to which only Dorothy +and I have access. You know she has never used them since; she hasn’t +been herself for six months or so.” A troubled light came to his eyes. +“It wasn’t her sister’s death so much--it seemed to be something else. +Sometimes I almost feared that she was discontented; that she didn’t +want to stay at home with the kiddies any more. Her father was always a +wanderer, and her grandfather died in China--you know how. But, thank +God, that’s over. The two months’ cruise on the _Sea Mew_ have made her +the same old Dorothy.” + +He paused an instant, then came back to the point. “I’m quite an expert +in an amateur way, and I recognized the substitution instantly to-night. +The discovery seemed to agitate Dorothy terribly. She always set great +store by the necklace--it was my wedding-present. The thing has upset +her so that she will be positively ill, unless you discover how the +substitution was made, and by whom. She wouldn’t let me call the +police.” + +“Where is Dorothy?” asked Colton anxiously. + +“She is lying down. I’m afraid this thing is going to spoil the whole +evening.” Again came the troubled note. He touched a small silver bell. +“I’ll call her. I want you to convince her that it isn’t worth worrying +about. You can do it, because she has always looked upon you as a +father.” + +A servant entered, bowed at the order, withdrew. + +They waited in silence for the coming of Dorothy Raelton. Thornley +Colton’s mind went back to the death of Colonel Calvin, the promise +given by the blind man that he would be a father to the two parentless +girls. A look of sadness came to the thin expressive lips. He was +thinking of the other beautiful daughter; the suicide that had never +been explained. + +The servant returned. His ruddy English face had lost a bit of its +colour; his voice trembled slightly. + +“Mrs. Raelton is sleeping. The door’s locked--and Dora can’t wake her.” + +In three minds leaped a single, horrible thought. Jimmy Raelton leaped +to his feet, dry-lipped. + +“My God, Thornley!” He ran toward the door, and into the hall. Thornley +Colton was at his heels, supersensitive ears following each footfall +unerringly. Sydney Thames hurried after them; the servant brought up the +rear. They raced up the marble stairs. In the upper hall a maid leaned +against the wall, wringing her hands. + +“Mr. Raelton!” she sobbed. “Oh, I can’t bear it!” + +Thornley Colton had not paused; his slim stick found the closed door. He +turned to face them, on his countenance an expression Sydney Thames had +never seen before. He spoke to the white-faced servant. + +“The guests will begin to arrive any moment, now,” he said, and his tone +was as strange as the look on his face. “Tell them that Mrs. Raelton has +been taken suddenly ill. The reception is postponed--indefinitely. Let +no one in.” He waited a moment till the man had gone; then his hand fell +on Jimmy Raelton’s shoulder. “Sydney and I will go,” he said huskily. + +“She isn’t----” Raelton could not finish. + +Colton shook his head sadly. “She isn’t dead, Jimmy,” he said, and +stopped, with a world of suggestion in his tone. + +“Then I want you to stay,” pleaded the husband hysterically. “Nothing +else matters--if she is alive.” + +He thrust his shoulder against the door. The lock gave way. He staggered +in; stopped short with a gasp of horror. On the wide bed lay Dorothy +Raelton, unconscious, hair disarranged, priceless gown dishevelled. From +one limp hand dangled a long, black opium pipe. On a low table beside +the bed a sweet-oil lamp burned flickeringly. A small can of opium was +overturned beside it. The needle that had cooked the drug over the flame +stained the white coverlet of the bed. The pungent smell of opium smoke +was in the air. + +Jimmy Raelton darted across the room, flung himself on his knees beside +the bed. + +“My God!” he moaned in agony. “My God!” + +Thornley Colton’s hand fumbled for the knob, found it. + +“Come, Sydney,” he murmured softly. Mechanically Thames obeyed. The door +closed softly behind them. The Jimmy Raeltons were alone. + + + II. + +Black headlines in the morning papers told of the strange postponement +of the Raelton reception. Black type told eager readers of the scene in +front of the Raelton home when arriving guests were met at the door with +a startling announcement: “Mrs. Raelton is ill. The reception has been +postponed indefinitely.” And the door had been closed in their faces! + +Eager readers learned of the silent line of servants that had filed from +the rear entrance of the darkened house; the fifty thousand dollars’ +worth of flowers left to wilt unseen; the caterers’ elaborate +preparations--estimated to have cost thousands--left to spoil untasted. +Much was made of the fact that Jimmy Raelton refused even to see a +reporter, and all the papers, yellow and conservative alike, hinted at a +sinister something that would explain a thing so unprecedented in the +annals of New York society. Two of the most progressive sheets learned +that Doctor Henry, the young physician who had made such rapid strides +in his practice among the social leaders, had not been called, and knew +nothing of Mrs. Raelton’s reported illness until told by the reporters. + +In the library of his old-fashioned up-town house Thornley Colton sat +with bowed head. At his feet were the crumpled papers Sydney had read to +him. + +“This is the saddest day of my life, Sydney,” the blind man said slowly. +“I promised Colonel Calvin that I would watch over his daughters. His +father died an opium fiend.” + +Sydney’s eyes widened. “I never knew that!” + +“Few did. I have zealously guarded the secret all my life. Not even the +girls knew it, though I told Jimmy when he married Dorothy. Colonel +Calvin was always afraid of the stain being in the blood. He had fought +the craving, but he feared for his daughters. I laughed at him, for +atavism, to me, has always seemed merely a cloak for weakness. Now I am +reaping my whirlwind. One is dead by her own hand, the other an opium +fiend. I can never forget my feelings when I caught the unmistakable +smell of opium smoke before we opened that door.” + +Silence came again, to be broken by The Fee, a red-haired, freckle-faced +blue-eyed boy, who had become a part of the Colton household at the +conclusion of a particularly baffling murder case. + +“Dere’s a feller an’ goil downstairs wants to see yuh. Looks like +soivents, and says dere name’s Rayton.” + +Only for an instant was the expression of surprise on the blind man’s +face. “Send them up,” he said quietly, and he rose to meet Jimmy Raelton +and his wife. + +A cry of pity came to Sydney Thames’s lips as the man and woman entered. +Jimmy Raelton, in an ill-fitting suit of blue, a plaid cap pulled down +over his eyes, had grown an old man in a night. Mrs. Raelton, in a +tawdry dress, leaned heavily on the arm of her husband, as she had +leaned when their disguises took them safely past the cordon of +newspaper men. + +Silently Thornley Colton took a hand in each of his, the mobile face +telling them what his tongue could not; silently he lead them to chairs. +Not until they were seated did Jimmy Raelton speak. + +“We are going away,” he said, and his tone was dead, hopeless. “We are +going to fight the fight together. Dorothy wanted to say good-bye--and +tell you.” + +“I couldn’t go without seeing you,” Dorothy Raelton sobbed chokingly. +“It will make it easier--to know that you understand. I’m glad--that +Jimmy knows at last.” Her voice steadied, and she went on simply, +bravely: “If it hadn’t been for little Jimmy and Dorothy, I would have +done as Marjorie did--ended it all. Marjorie, too, had the curse, though +I didn’t know it until that hideous morning I waked with a terrible +headache and the opium pipe on the floor beside me. I screamed for my +maid. Then she told me why Marjorie had written that pitiful, pleading +note, begging me to take Dora because she could be trusted if anything +happened. Dora was the only one who even suspected that my sister was an +opium fiend, just as my grandfather was. Marjorie had told her that. +Dora said that she had heard me going downstairs in the night, and in a +dream I seem to remember going to the Chinese room and taking the opium +set and small glass jar of the drug we kept as curiosities; but it seems +hazy, unreal. + +“I hid the set in my room; I didn’t dare risk getting it out. Every week +the longing would come. I’d go blind, insane with craving, and in the +morning I would wake, with the opium pipe beside me, and the little lamp +still burning. Time after time I tried to hide the things, but in my +blind delirium I always found them. One day I gave them to Dora for her +to destroy, and that night I went and choked her until she gave them +back. She had not had time to carry out my orders. I don’t remember +going to her at all, but in the morning I waked with the pipe beside me, +and on Dora’s throat were the marks of my fingers.” + +She stopped, sobs racking her slender frame. Beside her Jimmy Raelton’s +head was in his hands, his body quivering. She went on: “Jimmy thought +it was nervous break-down. He insisted on a long cruise in the yacht. +For two whole months I never once felt the craving! I thought it was +gone! I romped and played with the children; I laughed and joked with my +husband. Then we planned last night’s reception. My God! The discovery +by Jimmy of the substitute diamonds in my necklace overwrought me. I +went upstairs, took a headache powder, and I waked----” + +She broke down utterly. Jimmy Raelton raised his bowed head. “Now you +know the whole pitiful story. Will you keep our secret till we win the +fight?” + +“Always,” assured Thornley Colton softly. He laid a gentle hand on +Dorothy’s shoulder. “You may need help, little goddaughter; will you +call on me?” + +A nod answered him; she could not speak. + +“The fight will be short; such faith cannot help but win quickly,” he +added. His voice brought a look that was almost hopeful into the woman’s +eyes, so full of assurance was it. Some subtle special sense seemed to +tell him, for his thin lips curved in one of their rare smiles of +encouragement. “I know you will win,” he repeated. Then, to change the +subject: “I will investigate the necklace substitution while you are +gone. We’ve forgotten it completely.” + +Only the silent Sydney Thames saw the startled look leap to the eyes of +the man and woman. Dorothy Raelton found her voice first. “Don’t!” she +cried brokenly. “I took the stones. They--were all--I had--to pay some +one.” + +“What!” The tone of Colton’s voice startled them. In it was amazement; +under it was anguish, the anguish of a man who has made a horrible +mistake. “You have been paying blackmail?” His voice was almost harsh. + +“Yes.” She scarcely breathed it. + +“How long? To whom?” He was standing over her now; his attitude half +menacing. His voice compelled an answer. + +“For six months,” she whispered, “the letters have been coming. They +said I must pay, or the world would be told of the curse. I could do +nothing else. I burned the letters as fast as they came, and I’ve sent +fifty thousand dollars to a lock-box in Philadelphia. I had to sell my +diamonds, and have them replaced by imitations to make the last +payment.” + +“My God, what a fool I’ve been!” There was only anguish in the blind +man’s voice now. He paced the floor with tigerish strides. + +“Do you ever remember cooking the opium pill?” It came like a +pistol-shot. + +“Cooking----” He gave her no chance to finish. + +“Where did you get the headache powders you take?” + +“Doctor Grayton gave me the prescription, just before he died. I have +never taken any others.” + +“How often do you take them?” + +“Several times a week. They quiet my nerves. I have been taking them for +years, renewing the prescription when necessary.” + +“Did you take any on the cruise?” + +“Perhaps a dozen. They prevent sea-sickness.” + +“You never felt the craving for that two months?” + +“Never.” + +“They put you to sleep?” + +“A light sleep that comes of quieted nerves.” She was answering the +questions automatically, staring at him. Her husband listened, lips +parted, breath coming fast. Sydney Thames was leaning forward, tense, +expectant. + +The blind problemist whirled from her and continued his pacing. Twice he +made the length of the room. + +“The inhuman devils!” they heard him mutter. “God, what devils there +are!” + +Jimmy Raelton could stand it no longer. “What do you mean?” he cried. + +The blind man stopped before him, sightless eyes behind the round, dark +glasses apparently staring deep into his. “I mean that my neglect is +responsible for this.” There was terrible bitterness in his voice. “_Not +a breath of opium smoke has ever passed Dorothy Raelton’s lips!_” + +Dumb, stupefied, they could only stare; then, as though moved by hidden +springs, the man and woman leaped to their feet. But as quickly as it +came the look of hope died in Dorothy Raelton’s eyes. She fell back into +the chair. + +“Don’t!” she sobbed. “I can’t bear it! I’ve used the horrible stuff a +hundred times. I couldn’t fight against it!” + +The man still stood, swaying ever so slightly, finger-nails biting into +his palms, as his hands clenched convulsively. + +Gently the blind man forced him down into his chair. “It is true, +Jimmy,” he said, and his voice was normal once more. “I should have +known it last night when the whole game was in my hands. Now I must +start at the beginning. The mind I have trained for years to be purely +eliminative, that I have thought impervious to outside influences, is +only human, after all. Last night I believed the evidence of my four +senses and did not use my brain.” + +Only Sydney Thames realized what this confession cost the man who had so +prided himself on his infallibility. + +“I don’t understand,” came dully from Jimmy Raelton. + +The blind man resumed his pacing of the room. “Dorothy doesn’t even know +that the opium pill must be ‘cooked’ over the sweet-oil lamp! She +doesn’t know the first thing about opium smoking! And last night there +was no key on the inside of the door. _It was locked from the outside!_ +I remember distinctly that my fumbling fingers felt no key as I went +out. I know--now--that none fell. Someone wanted you”--his finger +pointed at Jimmy Raelton--“to see your wife!” He paused for an instant, +then continued, rapidly, crisply: “The whole thing is the most devilish +blackmail I have ever heard of. It is based on the one thing that all +the past dead centuries have taught us to fear--atavism. When Dorothy’s +money had gone, and the selling of the necklace stones told the +blackmailers so, the husband must be the next victim of the vampire. The +scene of last night was arranged so that only a touch would be needed to +explode the powder-magazine the reception postponement had started if +Jimmy refused to pay. The fiendish simplicity of it!” + +“But who----” began Dorothy Raelton, and there was almost eagerness in +her voice. Then the hopelessness came back. “But it is impossible. I +know----” + +“You know nothing! Where is your maid?” + +A terrible expression came to Raelton’s face. “The maid! She----” The +words came like curses before the problemist stopped him. + +“The maid is absolutely innocent! Absolutely! Remember that above all +things!” cried Colton. “Where is she?” + +“I sent her to mail a letter so that she would be out of the way when we +started. I wouldn’t even trust her,” Jimmy Raelton answered slowly. + +“To whom was the letter addressed?” + +“To you. I didn’t want to come here, but Dorothy insisted.” + +“Did you get a letter from the blackmailer this morning?” + +Silently Jimmy Raelton took a letter from his pocket and extended it. +Colton received it eagerly, jerked out the inclosure, laid it face down +on the desk. His hypersensitive finger-tips brushed lightly the +reversed, raised words the typewriter keys had driven through the paper +as he read aloud slowly: + + “_Mr. Raelton._ + + “SIR,--May be you don’t know it, but your wife smokes + hop. If you don’t want the wurld to get wise, send 25 + one-thousand-dollar bills to lock-box 117, Philadelphia. Don’t + register. We’ll take a chance they land safe. If you’re too up + in the air to-day give you till to-morrow, but put a personal in + the _Telegram_ saying when. And do it, too!” + +The blind man paused an instant, then continued: “The fact that they +want the money in thousand-dollar bills proves that the blackmailers are +persons who can pass them without question, despite the childish attempt +at illiteracy. They also know that the money would arrive safely without +registry, which would necessitate signing a receipt. The fact that they +want the money sent to a place so easily watched as a public lock-box +proves that they have some means of getting their hands on it before it +gets there!” + +He grasped the telephone. “Six thousand Greeley. _Telegram?_ Take a +personal for the next edition. Ready? ‘Lock-box 117. Not even +twenty-five cents.--J. R.’ That’s all. On the street in an hour? Charge +it to Thornley Colton. Right.” + +They listened, white-faced; he shot a question at Dorothy before a +protest could be voiced: + +“Have you ever called in Doctor Henry?” + +“There are things one can’t tell even one’s physician,” she said simply. +“Jimmy called him, once, when he thought I was suffering from nervous +break-down. Doctor Henry never suspected, couldn’t suspect. He told +Jimmy that his plans for a two months’ cruise were excellent. That is +the only time I have seen him during this awful six months. He has +dropped in several times to see the children, but I have been out.” + +“A curious coincidence,” mused Colton idly; then his questions took a +new turn. “You had no suspicion that your sister was an opium fiend?” + +“No--I wouldn’t have believed--if----” The words choked in her throat. + +“Didn’t you drift apart after her marriage?” + +“Donald Wreye turned out a cad!” blurted Raelton. “You know that as well +as I! He spent every cent of Marjorie’s money. There wasn’t a penny of +the hundred thousand her father left when she died. Wreye tried to +borrow ten thousand from me five months ago, and I ordered him from the +house!” + +“Five months ago?” murmured Colton. “He must have got it from someone. I +know he was on the ragged edge about that time.” He turned away from +them and jabbed two desk-buttons. “You are going back home now. I want +you to slip in the way you came. Shrimp will go with you.” + +He turned to face The Fee, who had answered one button. “The reporters +will probably hold you up, thinking you servants. Let Mr. and Mrs. +Raelton slip past, then let the newspaper men get the information that +Mrs. Raelton had a serious heart-attack, also that Doctor Henry was +asked not to divulge the fact that he had been called. I’ve rung for the +machine. It will take you within two or three blocks of your home. Walk +the rest of the way, and stay indoors until you hear from me. Now this +is important: I want you to give Shrimp two of the headache powders you +have been taking, without the knowledge of the maid or any one else. Can +you?” + +Mrs. Raelton nodded dumbly. + +“No one is to know that you have seen me. No one!” + +He sat down at the desk and wrote rapidly for a moment. + +“Send this telegram on your way back, Shrimp, and tell Michael not to +wait for you. Sydney and I want to use the machine.” + +He held out his hands to the man and woman. “Good-bye, for a little +while,” he said. Silently he watched them out, then he turned toward +Sydney. + +“Tell John to serve us a cold lunch immediately.” + +For the first time in an hour Sydney Thames spoke. “Where are we going?” +he asked curiously. + +“To see Donald Wreye.” + + + III. + +Society had never called the marriage of Marjorie Calvin and Donald +Wreye a brilliant one. Seven years before Marjorie had entered New York +society, and society had knelt at her feet. She had many offers of +marriage; all were laughed aside. Then came Donald Wreye, big, blond, +masterful. He carried the little black-haired girl off her feet, swept +the other suitors aside like chaff. He had neither money nor family. By +sheer doggedness he had fought his way to a ten-thousand-dollar position +in the Street. Society had pleaded with Marjorie Calvin. Thornley Colton +had pleaded. But she loved with the love that only women of the +Southland feel. They eloped. + +For five years the marriage had seemed ideal. Then came the last year. +Marjorie’s sunny nature changed completely. Wreye was constantly at his +club, drinking, gambling. Thornley Colton was received almost coldly by +the girl he loved as a daughter. Then she was found in her room, the +pistol she had used beside her. + +Wreye cast restraint to the winds then. His position was lost because of +dissipation. He had opened an office of his own, and although he was +known to do comparatively little business, for the past few months he +had seemed to have plenty of money. But to the men and women he had +known in the old days he became a pariah. + +And it was to his office that Colton and Sydney Thames started in the +big machine an hour later. The blind man’s lips were a thin, straight +line; the bloodless face sinister in its grimness. What his thoughts +were none could tell. Sydney’s were a maze of conflict. The astounding +assertion of Colton’s that Dorothy Raelton had never smoked opium had +carried him off his feet, mentally, when it was made, but now, with +sober afterthought, came the utter absurdity of it. Dorothy had +known--_known_--that the blind craving could only be satisfied by the +drug, and she had used it. It was not within the range of human +possibility that _she_ could be mistaken. And _they_ had seen. + +The car came to a stop before a tall office-building near Wall Street. +Colton, cane in hand, stepped to the side-walk, and, with only the touch +of Sydney’s sleeve against his to guide him, made his way to the +elevator. On an upper floor they halted before the door with its plain +announcement: + +“Donald Wreye, Broker. Odd Lots.” + +Following Thornley Colton’s knock came the slam of a hastily-shut +drawer, and a gruff invitation to enter. The smile of welcome faded as +the heavy-featured man with the tawny hair saw his visitors. + +“Well?” he snapped ungraciously, slumping into the swivel chair without +even inviting them to be seated. + +Thornley Colton’s slim stick located a chair before he answered. “You +won’t be well very long unless you keep away from that black bottle in +the drawer,” he said grimly. + +Wreye jumped to his feet with an oath. “That bottle’s my own affair,” he +snarled. “I’ll drink when I damn’ please! I’m not in your bootlicking +set any more. I got----” He stopped suddenly. “Get down to cases! This +is my busy day.” + +The blind man picked up the chair and placed it directly before the big +man, not two feet from him. “I want you to answer a few questions.” He +said it simply, quietly, but some indefinable timbre of his voice made +it a command. + +“I’ll answer if I see fit!” blustered Wreye. + +“You’ll answer whether you want to or not.” Still that quiet voice; the +velvet covering for the will of steel beneath it. Sydney Thames held his +breath as he watched the two men. One, a veritable giant, clumsy in his +very bigness, face flushed with anger and liquor; the other, half a head +shorter, with the chest and shoulders of an athlete, belied by the +well-tailored slimness the faultless clothes gave him; face and hair +white, accentuated by the big circles of the smoked library-glasses, his +cane, held idly between the slim, supersensitive fingers, touching the +floor a few inches from Donald Wreye’s foot. + +“I’ll see about that!” blustered Wreye, and the words seemed foolishly +puerile. + +“When did you first discover that your wife was an opium fiend?” It was +put so unexpectedly, so baldly, that even Sydney Thames gasped. + +The livid fury mounted to the face of Wreye. “By God! You----” His voice +trembled with unleashed passion. + +Knife-like Thornley Colton’s voice cut in: “Answer me!” + +And, like lightning, the answer came--a vicious, smashing right fist +straight at the face of the seated blind man! + +The exact sequence of ensuing events could never be told by Sydney, for +the simple reason that his eyes were incapable of following the moves of +the man who was sightless. He remembered leaping to his feet with a cry +of horror as the blind man’s chair toppled over. Then he saw a +purple-faced, cursing man straining and tugging to release the arms that +were being slowly doubled behind him. A crash of a great body hurled +downward in the heavy swivel chair, and Thornley Colton, unruffled, +breathing accelerated but a trifle, straightened the tortoise-rimmed +glasses and smiled down at the man he had so easily mastered. + +Mechanically Sydney righted the chair and picked up the blind man’s +cane. + +“Thanks,” murmured Colton absently, and Sydney Thames gasped in +amazement at the smile he saw on the thin lips of the problemist. It was +a smile of pure joy; the joy of a man who has learned something more +easily than he had expected. + +“Don’t you know that a seated man can’t leap to his feet without a +warning move of the foot on the floor?” Thornley Colton asked quietly. +“My cane told me what you were going to do the instant you knew +yourself. Do you want to proceed conversationally or physically?” he +finished grimly. + +“I could kill you for that!” The big man’s voice was like a sob. + +“It was raw,” apologized Colton, but both knew he was referring to the +question he had asked, and not the vicious blow, or the struggle. Then +the menace came again to his voice. “Where did you get that ten thousand +you needed so badly five months ago?” + +The effect of this question was fully as startling, in a totally +different way, to Sydney Thames as the other had been. The red rage +receded from Wreye’s face, the snarl went from the lips; a sneering +smile came. + +“So you come from my lily-fingered brother-in-law, eh? Hasn’t got the +nerve to come himself, I suppose?” + +“Where did you get it?” repeated Colton. + +“Oh, I’ll tell you quick enough. _I got it from Jimmy Raelton!_” + +If this reply was unexpected, it did not cause the slightest change of +expression on the face of Thornley Colton. + +“Quite strange that he should have given you the money after he had so +emphatically refused it once before, wasn’t it?” he observed quietly. + +The black scowl came back to Donald Wreye’s face. “The letter that came +with the money was devilish plain. The ten thousand was to keep me away +from him and his wife. I was told that I’d get something worse than mere +loss of position if I even told where it came from. Now I suppose he +wants it back.” + +“Oh, no,” assured Colton, as he rose. “He doesn’t even know I’m here.” + +“What do you want, then?” There was snarling suspicion in the voice now. + +“Information--which I got.” The blind man smiled down curiously at the +scowling man; then the smile went as quickly as it came. “What became of +Marjorie’s hundred thousand dollars?” he jerked out. + +“She----” Wreye’s jaws snapped together, the big shoulders hunched +aggressively. “If you’re so damn’ clever, find out!” he challenged +sullenly. + +Sydney Thames could see the man’s huge muscles tighten under the coat, +as if he expected force once more, and was prepared to meet it. But +Colton only nodded and turned toward the door. + +“I will,” he promised grimly. “And I’m going to have you on hand when I +make the discovery.” + +It was not until they were on the side-walk outside that a word was +spoken. + +“A man like that makes my blood boil!” ejaculated Sydney Thames. + +“Yes?” replied the blind man seriously, but the rising inflection made +it enigmatical. His beckoning finger brought a leather-lunged newsboy. + +“Latest _Telegram_?” + +It was thrust into his hand. + +“Did Shrimp see the reporters, Sydney?” he asked, as he handed the paper +to Thames and stepped into the car. + +“The heart-stroke story is on the first page.” + +“Good! Then the advertisement I telephoned must be in. Take us to Doctor +Henry’s home, Michael.” + + + IV. + +With plenty of money, a distinguished appearance, and the manners of a +courtier, Doctor Charles V. Henry had entered New York society three +years before, with letters of introduction from prominent men and women +in Paris. He soon opened an office in the fashionable up-town +residential district. He had an independent fortune--his bachelor +apartments cost him fifteen thousand a year--but it pleased him to +follow his profession, and when Doctor Grayton died he fell natural heir +to his society practice. + +“Do not tell me that you are ill, Mr. Colton!” he laughed, as he ushered +the blind man and Sydney into his quietly luxurious office half an hour +after they had left Donald Wreye. + +“Old Hippocrates and I are sworn enemies,” smiled the problemist. “I +came to get a little professional information.” + +“Yes?” politely from the physician, as he accepted a proffered +cigarette. + +“It is this.” Colton spoke seriously; all trace of the smile had gone. +“Is there any medicinal cure for opium craving?” + +The heavy lashes of the doctor veiled his eyes as he looked down +thoughtfully at the floor. “There are several reputed cures,” he said +finally. “The most effective, and simple, probably, is rice powder and +morphia. The morphia satisfies the violent craving at first, then the +drug is diminished gradually, until the patient is satisfied with the +harmless rice powder. This is effective, however, only in the first +stages.” + +“I am speaking of atavistic craving. The opium craving, having skipped +one generation, appears doubly strong in the next.” + +“You mention a rare case,” said Doctor Henry slowly; “and an incurable +one. The effect of opium smoking, primarily, is a sensation of the +nerves, or, rather, lack of sensation. The nerves feel the craving +first. When that craving finds lodgment in the brain, the case is +hopeless. With the inherited craving the process is absolutely reversed. +The seat of the trouble is in the brain before the nerves know the drug, +and when the nerves once feel the satisfied craving, it becomes a +monomania. There is no cure.” + +For a full minute there was silence in the office. Thornley Colton blew +thoughtful smoke-rings toward the ceiling. Sydney Thames was conscious +of a strange, new feeling toward the man he loved; the man who had +picked him up as a bundle of baby-clothes on the banks of the English +river that had given him the only name he had ever known. The feeling +was almost bitter. He could not keep his mind from the man and woman +that Colton had sent back to their home but a short time before, full of +hope, of joy. Now he realized that the words had been but empty +encouragement. And there was no hope! + +Thornley Colton spoke again. “I disagree with you, doctor. There is a +cure!” He had risen to his feet; his voice trembled with vehemence. + +The physician, startled from his usual professional calmness, was on his +feet, staring. Colton took a step forward, stumbled blindly against a +chair, his hands thrust out gropingly. Before Sydney Thames could reach +him, Doctor Henry was again the cool physician. He extended a hand, and +led the blind man back to his seat. + +“I forgot myself,” apologized the blind man huskily. “This thing has +unnerved me.” He swallowed hard, his voice became normal. “The time for +equivocation is past, doctor; I’m going to be frank. Dorothy Raelton is +an opium fiend!” + +The physician half rose again from his chair in amazement. +“Why--why--such a thing is incredible!” he gasped. + +Briefly, dispassionately, Colton told him of the night before. “Now,” he +continued, “for the cure.” Again there was excitement in his voice. +“Early to-morrow morning the Raeltons start for a year’s cruise on their +yacht. I am making all the arrangements. They will go to the South +Pacific, and keep wholly out of touch with the world, Mrs. Raelton will +not take her maid, Jimmy will not even have his man. They will be +absolutely alone, except for the crew. What do you think of that?” + +Doctor Henry’s fingers ceased their nervous drumming on the chair-arm, +his lowered eyes raised. “It may be effective,” he admitted, in his +deepest professional tones. “At what time--do they start?” + +“With the seven-o’clock tide. To-night Mrs. Raelton is going to receive +a few intimate friends, and explain last night’s postponement. By the +way”--he took the newspaper he had purchased from his pocket--“I used +your name in explaining to the reporters the cause of last night’s +affair. I knew you wouldn’t object.” The physician took the paper +eagerly. + +The problemist was almost to the door before he remembered another +question. “Did you ever suspect that Mrs. Donald Wreye was an opium +fiend?” he asked. + +The unexpectedness of the question made Doctor Henry forget his usual +suave manner for an instant, and his voice was almost sharp as he +replied: “She was not! Her death was----” He stopped suddenly; then, in +a different tone, “I am going to meet your frankness with frankness,” he +said slowly. “I have always thought Mrs. Wreye’s suicide was a natural +result of an utter breaking of her hypersensitive nervous system.” + +“Her husband?” put in Colton. + +“Yes!” emphatically. + +“Marjorie Wreye’s death was not a suicide!” Colton spoke quietly, but in +his tone was that ominous menace Sydney Thames had noticed so many times +that day. “It was deliberate murder! Good-day, doctor.” + +He extended his hand. It was taken by the serious-faced physician. +Thornley Colton nodded a jerky farewell, and hurried from the office, +his brain automatically counting the steps it had registered when he +entered. + +In the car, speeding homeward, Sydney Thames drew a long breath. + +“Great Scott!” he murmured. “What a villain he is!” + +“Doctor Henry?” There was mild surprise in the blind man’s voice. + +“Donald Wreye,” corrected Sydney shortly. “Hanging is too good for him!” + +“Did you notice the almost curious resemblance between the deep +professional tones of Doctor Henry and the ordinary voice of Wreye?” +asked the problemist seriously. + +Without giving Thames a chance to reply he leaned forward to speak to +the driver. “Take us to the nearest drug-store telephone pay-station, +Michael,” he ordered. And as the car turned in toward the curb he +explained to Sydney: “I must tell the Raeltons of my plans; also get +twenty grains of trional and a heavy rubber band. Trional is one of the +few harmless narcotics. The rubber band is _highly_ important. It is +going to trap the most inhuman criminal I have ever known!” + + + V. + +Sydney Thames paced the library floor impatiently. Where was Thornley +Colton? For three hours he had asked himself that question. The blind +problemist had spent fully half an hour in the closed telephone booth at +the drug-store after he had purchased two morphia powders and half a +dozen strong rubber bands. Then, when Michael had driven them home, +Sydney had been curtly ordered from the machine, and the eager-eyed +Shrimp had taken his place as guide. + +As he walked he tried to piece together the events of the day; to +discover some loose end in the snarl of circumstances. But his mind +refused to find logic in the tangle of statements, of events that +apparently led nowhere. Donald Wreye was a villain. He had driven his +wife to suicide after squandering her fortune. That was certain. But +what part had he in the life of Dorothy Raelton? Why had Jimmy Raelton +secretly sent him ten thousand dollars after openly refusing it? Why had +Raelton pretended such bitterness against his brother-in-law that +morning? Why had Colton made the astounding statement that Dorothy +Raelton had never smoked opium, and then sought a physician’s advice for +a possible cure? Why had the blind man remarked the similarity of Donald +Wreye’s voice to that of Doctor Henry? These, and a hundred more, raced +back and forth through his brain like a flying shuttle. He took out his +watch for the fiftieth time; then turned eagerly as the blind man +hurried into the room. + +With a sigh of weariness Thornley Colton dropped into a chair and +lighted a cigarette; when he spoke there was weariness in his voice. + +“A strange case, Sydney,” he said slowly, as though he had accepted this +first quiet opportunity for retrospection. “The strangest I have ever +known. A crime so damnably ingenious that even I--who have made a study +of crime and criminals for years--did not recognize it. A crime so +infernally clever that even the victim refuses to believe that it is a +crime. A criminal who could confess this minute, and be laughed to scorn +by any jury in the land. It is a crime unique in the annals of crime.” + +He took a telegram from his pocket. “Here is the answer to a query I +sent regarding the lock-box in Philadelphia.” + +Sydney took it and read: + + “Lock-box 117 one of six rented to Philadelphia Insurance Co. + for past five years.” + +“That means an accomplice there!” ejaculated Sydney. + +“It proves my former statement that the blackmailer never allowed the +money to get to that box. And there could be only one method of +interception in this case. It was never mailed!” + +“But Mrs. Raelton said----” began Sydney dazedly. + +“She also said she was an opium fiend,” interrupted Colton brusquely. +Again his hand went to his pocket; on his palm as he extended it were +two white, folded papers. “These are the powders Shrimp brought. The +papers have been changed by me, but these powders have been used to mask +the weapon of a fiend. Get me a glass of water.” + +Mechanically Sydney obeyed. He returned in a moment with the water and a +question. + +“But Mrs. Raelton declared that Doctor Grayton had given her those +powders?” he objected. + +“Yes.” Thornley Colton carefully unfolded one. “And Doctor Grayton has +been dead two years.” He held the paper, opened, between his thumb and +forefinger. “These powders were used to cause the suicide of Marjorie +Wreye and make Dorothy Raelton, to all intents and purposes, an opium +fiend!” He raised the powder to his lips, dropped it on his tongue. +Sydney could not repress a gasp of horror. The blind man took a sip of +the water, and stood up, fingers feeling the crystalless watch in his +pocket. “It is seven o’clock, Sydney, time we were starting for the +Raelton home. The machine is waiting.” + +Thames licked his dry lips. “My God, Thorn!” he choked. “It +isn’t--poison?” + +“No.” The blind man’s smile held no humour. “These powders are perfectly +harmless. Doctor Grayton was a careful practitioner, and his +prescriptions have helped my headaches before.” + +“But what--how----” gulped Sydney, amazed into incoherence by this new +convolution. + +“I’ll tell you later,” promised Thornley Colton. “I can’t now. There is +too much at stake to spoil with premature explanations.” + +He took his hat and coat from the tree, and hurried down the stairs, +Sydney following. In the automobile the blind man lay back in the deep +seat, only rousing when the machine came to a stop before the Raelton +home. The awning canopy was gone now; there was no waiting crowd. +Another machine came to a stop behind them; where it had come from +Sydney did not know. Then came a feminine greeting; the blind man lifted +his hat, and hurried to the other car unerringly. + +“How are you, Mrs. Neilton, and you, Mrs. Bracken, also your husbands?” +The assumed cheeriness in the voice seemed perfect to the listening +Sydney Thames. As the blind man assisted the women to alight, Thames was +surprised to note that they were all strangers to him. As Colton’s +constant companion and guide he knew most of the blind man’s friends, +though his memory of faces was not to be compared with the blind +problemist’s wonderful memory of voices. + +Sydney was introduced to the men and women as Thornley Colton’s +secretary; they were presented to him as friends of the Jimmy Raeltons, +who had come to see them on the eve of the departure for the South +Pacific. + +Together they mounted the steps. Thornley Colton rang the bell. And the +door was opened by the red-haired Shrimp! + +“The servants is all gone,” explained the boy, as he closed the door +after them. “All but Mrs. Raelton’s maid. Mr. Raelton’s in the Moorish +room.” + +But at the first sound of their voices Jimmy Raelton had hurried out to +meet them; his face was still haggard, and in the eyes was a piteous +expression of pleading. + +“Where is Mrs. Raelton?” asked Thornley Colton quietly. + +“She is lying down. I’ll call her.” Raelton had not even nodded to the +two men and the women who were quietly watching. + +“Wait!” Thornley Colton grasped his arm. Some one was coming up the +steps outside. The door-bell rang. Shrimp opened it, and into the hall +stumbled Donald Wreye! His bloodshot eyes blinked in the bright light as +he glared at them, his hands twitched at his sides. He hunched his great +shoulders, and clenched his fists to get a grip on himself. + +“Where’s----” he began, in the deep, hoarse voice so like that of the +physician. + +From above them came a frightened scream--a woman’s scream. + +“Mr. Raelton! Mr. Raelton!” It was the maid. + +He bounded toward the stairs, the others at his heels. At the top was +the maid, weeping and wringing her hands. + +“She told me to get myself something to eat, and I wasn’t downstairs +twenty minutes,” she cried hysterically. “And I found her----” + +Jimmy Raelton dashed past her. Sydney felt Colton brush past him, and +realized that somehow he had gotten behind the others when they started. + +At the door of the room where they had stopped the night before they +halted again. The door was not even closed this time, and once more +their eyes took in the same scene. But the electrics were out now, only +the flickering rays of the sweet-oil lamp shone on the sleeping woman +and the opium-pipe at her side. + +“My God! Again!” The words came in sobs from Jimmy Raelton. + +He tried to leap forward, but the outstretched hand of Thornley Colton +stopped him. Then the others saw the blind man dart across the room to +the bed without a false move; saw him pick up a white, dangling arm, +brush his fingers up the whole length of it, under the flowing sleeve of +the loose kimono, then stop at the wrist. They were all around him now. +He straightened up to face them. + +“It’s something more, this time,” he said huskily. “Mrs. Raelton is +dead!” + +“Dead!” the terror-stricken word came from the maid. The others seemed +suddenly turned to stone. + +Silently Colton held the arm for her to feel the pulse. Her fingers +found the artery, her face went dead white. They could hear the +fluttering gasp of her breath as she dropped the arm. + +Raelton brushed past her; his trembling fingers searched for a single +faint heart-beat. A cry of agony burst from him. Colton gently drew him +away. + +“Phone Doctor Henry, Dora!” he ordered sharply. Then he seemed to sense +that the maid was staring at Donald Wreye, who stood in the centre of +the room, swaying back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching at his +sides. + +“_You_, Wreye!” + +The blind man’s voice seemed to galvanize Donald Wreye into action. He +whipped a revolver from his pocket. + +“Like Marjorie, eh?” His laugh seemed insane. “Get out of here, all of +you!” + +He stood beside the door-way, the revolver threateningly sweeping the +silent men and women. Jimmy Raelton tensed his body for a spring, but +Thornley Colton’s hand viced his arm. + +“We can do nothing,” he whispered. + +Like sheep they filed past the menacing pistol, the two men and women +who had met them outside going first. In the hall-way they stopped. + +“Straight ahead!” ordered Wreye. He spoke over his shoulder to the maid. +“Call Doctor Henry,” he sneered. “Go downstairs and call him.” + +The girl’s limbs seemed hardly able to support her as she walked past +him to the head of the stairs. He turned his attention again to the +driven men and women. Sydney’s eyes caught a glimpse of a portiered +door-way at their left, but Colton’s grip on his arm held him. Down the +hall they went. A door was open at the extreme end, the key in the +outside of the lock. + +“In there, all of you!” ordered Wreye. + +The women stumbled in. The men followed. The door slammed behind them. +The key turned. Outside they heard running footsteps. + +“He’s gone down the backstairs,” muttered one of the men. + +The dot of light at the keyhole disappeared. + +“He’s put out the lights,” hoarsely whispered the other. + +Thornley Colton took something from his pocket. He inserted it in the +keyhole; they heard the bolt slip back. + +“He’ll return,” he whispered. “You four stay here and kick at the door. +The darkness means nothing to me. I’m going to take Sydney and Raelton +outside to watch. Give us a minute, and then begin your noise.” + +He opened the door without a sound. His hands on the two men’s arms drew +them out. The blackness of the unlighted hall was impenetrable, but the +blind man pulled them forward almost on a run. Sydney’s feet +mechanically obeyed the pulling arm; Raelton, still in a daze, was +merely an automaton obeying the will of a master. The blind man thrust +them through the portieres Sydney had noticed before. + +“Not a sound!” he warned, as he dragged them down to the floor, his +fingers biting deep into their arms. + +The house echoed with the blows of feet and fists on the door of the +room they had just left. A door slammed downstairs. They heard the voice +of The Fee, shrill with fright. + +“Dere all locked in back!” + +Hurried footsteps sounded on the stairs. They heard a woman’s voice +whisper; a man’s deep, hoarse voice in answer. Sydney’s muscles grew +tense. It was the heavy voice of Donald Wreye! + +“She’s dead, I tell you!” trembled the maid. They were passing the door +now. + +The man’s answering whisper sounded like the growling of an animal. “You +little fool!” he hissed. “You let the other get away from us, and this +one was worth a million----” + +The words ended in a woman’s scream. They heard the sound of a falling +body. A man’s curse. A short struggle. Then the dull impact of fist +against flesh. Thornley Colton’s gripping hands relaxed. He jumped +through the sheltering portieres. His voice cut the darkness: + +“Stop, Wreye, stop! Doctor Henry is unconscious! Shrimp!” + +The incandescents leaped to light. + +On the floor was the maid, senseless. Near her was Doctor Henry, limp, +torn, his face bruised and beaten. Standing over him was Donald Wreye, +panting, trembling. + +The two men who had stayed in the locked room came running forward, +shining handcuffs in their hands. + +“Handcuff Mrs. Henry,” ordered Colton. “She has only fainted.” He turned +to face the still-dazed Jimmy Raelton and Sydney. “There is the +atavistic vampire!” He touched the limp body of the physician as though +it was a snake. “God knows how many lives he has ruined with his +devilish schemes. He blackmailed Marjorie Wreye out of a hundred +thousand dollars, and murdered her as surely as though his finger had +pulled the trigger that sent the bullet crashing into her brain. He made +Donald Wreye a pariah. And he almost succeeded in ruining the lives of +you and Dorothy.” + +The name aroused Jimmy Raelton. + +“Dorothy!” he cried brokenly. “He killed Dorothy!” + +The blind man’s hand fell gently on his shoulder. “It was necessary that +she should sleep through it all,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think she +could stand another dose of the doctor’s morphia, so the powder she took +was trional powder. She will wake in an hour, suffering no ill effects. +If you’ll remove the tight rubber band I put on her arm under the kimono +sleeve the blood will flow back through the pulse.” + + + VI. + +Sydney and Thornley Colton were back in the library of the old-fashioned +house. The blind man had removed the tortoise-rimmed glasses, and around +his head and over his eyes was an alcohol-soaked bandage to relieve the +splitting headache the loss of his usual four hours of darkness in the +afternoon had produced. + +“Yes, it was melodrama, Sydney,” he admitted. “But it was necessary. It +was carefully staged to shatter the nerves of the cool Dora, and arouse +the doctor’s anger at what he thought was a mistake of his accomplice. +That last resulted in the angry confession we overheard. I knew his +temper would give way under certain conditions, and I made those +conditions. Shrimp was stationed downstairs to let him in at the proper +moment, and also to keep the maid and the doctor from confidences until +they were upstairs, where they could hear the door-pounding, and would +suppose we were all together. Of course, the quartet of men and women +were private detectives posing as guests to deceive the maid. They were +stationed around the corner with orders to follow right behind us. Wreye +was across the street from the Raelton house, so that he could run over +and ring the bell a moment after we entered.” + +“But how did Doctor Henry happen to be there?” demanded the puzzled +Sydney. + +“Shrimp, mimicking the maid’s voice, called him up the minute our +machine appeared, and told him that Mrs. Raelton was dead. He rang off +before the doctor could get in a word. But that gave Henry all the time +he needed to get there. Shrimp says the physician fumed and fretted in +the vestibule fully three minutes before the boy heard the door-pounding +that was the signal to admit him.” + +“But I thought Donald Wreye----” began Sydney helplessly. + +“It was Doctor Henry and the maid from the first. Pure elimination and +the headache powders told me that.” + +“But you said the powders were harmless, that Doctor Grayton was +careful,” objected Sydney. + +“Their harmlessness was the crux. It put them above suspicion, but when +it became necessary to impress Dorothy Raelton with the fact that she +was a hopeless opium fiend the powder the maid gave her was a heavy dose +of morphia, which is the base of opium, and produces almost the same +after-effects. Of course, as soon as Dorothy became unconscious the +outfit was arranged for her awakening. Dorothy’s highly-strung nervous +system, like that of her sister, made it easy for a strong mind like +that of the maid to make her know--_know_--that she had smoked the drug +in a blind delirium of craving. And the wonderful suggestive stories of +the maid, and the fake finger-marks on her throat, made the thing +complete. I understood them all when I heard of the blackmail, but it +was necessary to impress the Raeltons with Dora’s innocence so that she +would be unsuspicious until the time came for the dénouement. + +“The ten thousand I knew Wreye must have got puzzled me at first, though +it didn’t seem possible that he could be in the plot. The interview in +the morning proved his utter incapability of such a thing. The game +required a cool, iron-nerved man. His actions during our talk proved +conclusively that he was neither. Five minutes’ conversation with Doctor +Henry gave me all I wanted to know. His coolness, his nerve, the fact +that he had called at the Raelton home several times when Mrs. Raelton +was out, ostensibly to see the children, but really to see the maid, the +clever way he blamed Wreye for Marjorie’s suicide, his eager desire to +know at what time the Raeltons sailed in the morning, the manner in +which he took the paper he knew should contain the personal, were all +guide-posts on the right track. His beautifully clever explanation why +the opium craving I described could not be alleviated was intended to +show me my helplessness. But it gave me what I wanted. Pretending to +stumble, I got his hand in mine; my finger was on his pulse--the +Keyboard of Silence. He knew I was going to tell him of Dorothy! Though +his face was a mask, his heart-beats showed the nervousness underneath; +the nervousness no eye could have detected. That was the final proof. + +“Then I realized his real cleverness. _He_ had sent the money to Wreye +with a forged note, apparently from Raelton. The maid had undoubtedly +told him of Wreye’s need and attempt to borrow from his brother-in-law, +and the doctor was afraid that Wreye, in a hot-headed rage at continued +refusals, would blurt out Marjorie’s trouble, and cause a premature +confession from Dorothy before the blackmailer had gotten her firmly in +his clutches. Henry was overlooking no possibility, and the ten thousand +was a paltry amount, beside what he expected to get. Of course, you see +how he really got the money into his hands? The envelopes containing the +bills, given to a trusted maid to mail to the fake lock-box, were merely +handed over to the real vampire. There was no chance of detection. + +“This afternoon Shrimp and I went to Wreye’s office and explained the +whole game to him. He refused to believe, at first, because Marjorie had +confessed five months before her death that she was an opium fiend. +Wreye was more of a man than we ever thought. He hid the fact from the +world. He let her go her own way. He didn’t suspect the blackmailing, +because Marjorie probably feared to tell him, lest his temper should +lead him to expose the secret in his efforts to seek out the +blackmailer. And when she died, penniless, he supposed she had lost her +money gambling, the usual passion that follows opium smoking. He kept +quiet, but naturally he was bitter against the whole world. + +“But I finally persuaded him to do his part in trapping the vampire. +Remember the similarity of the two voices? That was my trump card. I +knew that my story of the Raeltons’ early departure and the curt +advertisement would rouse the doctor to drastic action, and force him to +call up Dora, and give new instructions. That was what I wanted--it +would make her unsuspicious when the second call I planned came. It +worked like a charm. She never suspected the voice. It was then, by the +way, that we learned Dora was really Mrs. Henry, and that she was +getting tired of her part. We learned, also, that Mrs. Raelton was to be +given an extra heavy dose of morphia, so that it would be impossible for +her to get away in the morning. Doctor Henry needed time, you see. + +“Wreye, impersonating the doctor over the phone, gave her new +instructions. The same plan was to be followed, but the doctor would +send her two new powders--they were my trional powders; I wouldn’t take +a chance on morphia again--and she was to arrange the opium set as +usual, and scream for Jimmy as soon as Donald Wreye arrived. Then, if +anything went wrong, she was to foist suspicion upon Wreye, who, she was +told, was on the verge of delirium tremens, and would be sent by the +doctor on some pretext. + +“Donald, as you saw, could hardly control himself, but that made him +perfect in her eyes, though I had to stay behind a second after you +started upstairs to warn him, and I also had to give him his cue in the +room before he acted. My little trick with the rubber band utterly +unnerved the maid, who supposed that her husband had really sent poison. +So, when the doctor got there, they were at cross-purposes, and the +angry betrayal we heard was the logical result.” + +For a minute there was silence; then Sydney Thames spoke. “But Wreye, +why did you let him----” There was no need to finish. + +“It was pure brutishness, Sydney,” confessed Thornley Colton slowly. +“The brutishness that makes us think of physical revenge before we think +of the law. There are crimes so foul that we want to pound, to tear +their perpetrators. The driving to death of one innocent girl and the +nearly successful attempt to make a mental wreck of Dorothy Raelton, who +had never known the taste of opium smoke in her life, is one of them. My +fingers itched for Doctor Henry’s throat. But Donald Wreye’s right came +first. He took it. I am glad.” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + THE THIRD PROBLEM + + THE MONEY MACHINES + + + I. + +The man in the long blue car was a person of consequence. The big +traffic policeman had stopped all north and south traffic, but the +chauffeur of the blue machine darted in front of a stopped Bowling Green +car without the slightest slackening of speed, and shot between an +eastbound slot car and a westbound delivery truck. Traffic cop 7389 +saluted gravely and silenced with a warning scowl the snarling driver of +a held-up van, who had to reach the ten-thirty boat. + +The lone occupant of the roomy tonneau, rigidly straight on the +cushions, answered the salute with a barely perceptible nod of his head, +and a half smile of the thin, almost bloodless lips. But there was no +change of expression in the granite-hard gray eyes, nor a movement of +the straight back. One lean hand gripped the tonneau door, the fingers +resting just above the small silvered monogram on the blue enamel; the +other dropped lightly on the seat beside his knee. John T. Villers, the +power behind the throne of Money, was on his way to his office. + +It was characteristic of the man that he did not lounge back in his +seat; that his pose was one of tense rigidity. No one had ever seen John +T. Villers relax; none of the hundreds who knew him thought that he +could relax. Alert, watchful, a machine for the massing of millions; a +machine that never required rest; that never needed the lubrication of +pleasure to insure its smooth running; a human mechanism that never +deviated a hair’s breadth from its schedule. Such was the king of the +kings of finance. + +At ten-fifteen he would be at his office in Wall Street. Elsewhere, a +monarch of half a million fighting men paced the floor of his castle +room, impatiently awaiting the word that a simple touch of a desk button +in that Wall Street office would bring. Ten thousand yellow coolies, +half a world away, idled in bamboo-thatched construction huts for a +stroke of John T. Villers’s pen. And he answered the salute of a traffic +policeman! + +Men and women on Broadway halted in their hurrying to stare at the big +blue car, and the silent, straight-backed occupant; for the face and the +pose of the financier were as familiar to the reading public as Broadway +itself. Weak-chinned men of the unemployed ranks cursed the “luck” that +gave him money and them hunger. Clerks, from high office windows, +bemoaned the fate that compelled them to commence work at eight and +allowed him to begin at ten. There was no sign in the hard gray eyes of +the man who answered the traffic men’s salutes that the money machine +had been working until daylight over the inch-thick packet of papers now +buttoned tightly beneath his coat. The machine never showed signs of its +running. + +At Murray Street a deeper inclination of the head was the honour paid a +business friend in a passing automobile. At Park Place the blue machine +skirted ahead of the traffic block where the huge Woolworth Building +mounted skyward. A taxi darted in front of it, tried to cut in ahead; +then stopped. Villers’s chauffeur cursed under his breath as he swerved +toward the curb. The wheels of the smooth-running car struck the thin +end of a building girder, ran over it with a great jolt that jarred the +car body down on its springs. A fat traffic cop hurried across the +street just as the stalled taxi came to life and scurried down Broadway. +The blue car had never even paused; the incident was closed. + +The chauffeur bent lower over his wheel so that his muttered oaths would +not reach the silent man behind him, for he knew that his job hung on +the hair of his employer’s morning humour. John T. Villers’s one rule, +whether it be for trusted clerks or chauffeurs, was smoothness; he did +not like jolts. + +The next traffic cop, who had sworn sympathetically when he saw that +jar, let his jaw drop and his salute become a gesture of surprise. The +lone man in the tonneau was lying back in the cushions, his eyes closed, +the fingers of the hand that had been on the door relaxed. + +“’Tis a tired man he is this mornin’,” muttered the traffic man in +sympathy. + +The car swung into Wall Street, stopped before the world-known banking +house of Villers. Instantly the chauffeur was down, his hand pulled open +the door. But the machine that never relaxed was sleeping. Wonderment +came to the face of the driver; then fear. He laid a hand lightly on the +shoulder of his employer. The breathing man did not stir. The fear on +the chauffeur’s face deepened. Mr. Villers must be sick! + +He obeyed the first instinct, and looked wildly around. Relief chased +some of the fear away when he saw the approaching private watchman, who +had been stationed before the Villers’s house for years. + +“Mr. Villers is sick!” he cried. + +The watchman brushed him aside, and stared at the bloodless face with +the closed, blue-veined lids. + +“He must ’a’ fainted!” gasped the watchman; and he, too, looked wildly +around for help. + +“Can I be of any assistance?” Both jumped nervously as the stout, +full-bearded man with the black satchel spoke. “I am a doctair.” He +enunciated the words slowly, distinctly, with a pause after each. + +“Mr. Villers has fainted.” They chorused it, huge relief in their +voices, and stepped back instantly. + +The bearded man stepped to the car, ripped open the unconscious man’s +coat and vest, and placed his hand over the beating heart +professionally. + +“Heart trouble. Seerious,” he told them slowly, as if the words caused +him trouble. “Tell them inside.” Both started. He called the watchman +back. “Spread the robe on the side-walk.” The watchman’s clumsy fingers +fumbled with the robe as the physician put his ear to the financier’s +chest, muttered an angry ejaculation, and fumbled with the black bag at +his feet. + +“It’s ready, sir.” Then the watchman swore under his breath at the +crowding men and boys who had apparently sprung from the very side-walk. + +The big man paid not the slightest attention. He lifted the slight form +of the man of millions and laid it gently on the robe-covered stones. +“He must go to a hospital,” he announced with precise distinctness. “I +will call the ambu-lance.” + +The crowd parted, he hurried through. + +Inside the banker’s office the chauffeur blurted the news to the +multi-millionaire’s private secretary, utterly unmindful of the two +strangers who were with him. + +“Fainted?” echoed the secretary blankly. + +“Fainted?” repeated the red-cheeked, black-haired stranger. + +“Men like Villers don’t faint. Where is he?” The chauffeur stared at the +deep-chested, striking-looking man with the wavy white hair, fine as +silk, and the strong, lean face, whose extreme paleness was accentuated +by the great blue circles of the smoked tortoise-shell library glasses +that rested lightly on the nose with its delicate, sensitive nostrils. +“Show me where he is, Sydney.” The cleft chin was set at an ominous +angle, his slim stick, apparently of heavy ebony, dangled idly between +the tapering fingers of his right hand. + +“Can’t you see the crowd running?” The shock had made the chauffeur +forget that he was only a chauffeur; he jerked his head toward the door +he had opened so unceremoniously. + +“I am blind.” The white-haired man said it simply, quietly. + +“Come, Thorn.” His apple-cheeked secretary led the way from the office, +the blind man at his heels. Villers’s private secretary and the +chauffeur followed dumbly after. + +There were now two policemen to keep the surging crowd from the still +body of the master of millions on the cold side-walk. The outer ranks +parted for the apple-cheeked man, the blind one followed him to the +centre. One of the policemen mopped his brow in relief as they entered +the small circle. + +“It looks like heart trouble, Mr. Colton,” he murmured nervously. + +“Think so, Thompson?” The end of the slim stick touched a knee of the +prostrate man lightly. Thornley Colton knelt and picked up a lax arm. +His fingers felt the pulse. + +“That’s what the doctor said it was.” The watchman licked his dry lips. +“He ought to be back by now.” + +“Doctor?” snapped the kneeling man, without looking up. + +“He laid him there t’ call th’ ambulance.” Once more the watchman wet +his lips. + +“Who is Mr. Villers’s physician?” The blind man’s finger-tips were +lightly brushing the coat-lining. + +“Doctor Clayton.” The private secretary answered. + +“Get him. Quick!” The tone of the voice sent a bareheaded clerk who had +followed them on the jump to obey. + +“Is it a serious heart attack?” stammered the still-dazed private +secretary. + +“Heart attack? _No!_” The blind man spoke sharply, crisply. “This is a +morphine stupor!” + +“Morphine?” gasped the dazed secretary incredulously. + +“Yes!” The word was jerked out, a slim fore-finger and thumb raised an +eyelid of the prostrate man. “See the contracted pupils? Pin-points!” + +“But how----Thank Heaven, Mr. MacLaren!” The secretary’s voice changed +from helpless amazement to joyous relief as the square-shouldered, +square-chinned man with the iron-gray hair pushed his way though the +crowd. + +“My God! What does this mean?” cried the new comer. + +The blind man rose, picked up his stick, and brushed his trousers knees. + +“It means robbery--now,” he said grimly. “It will probably mean murder +in a few hours!” + +Dreyfus MacLaren, the one man in all the world who enjoyed the full +confidence of John T. Villers, paced the floor of his office with +nervous strides, halting at every turn, ears strained to catch the +faintest sounds from the inner room, where the doctor worked over the +unconscious money machine. On the street outside, stretching from the +sub-treasury steps to the dingy buildings where the sugar brokers buy +and sell, the crowd still waited, whispered. In the outer room of the +financier’s office came the low-voiced hum of half a hundred newspaper +men, tensely waiting a word from that inner room. At the end of his +small office MacLaren swung around to face the blind problemist, who +rolled the thin, hollow stick he always carried between his tapering +white fingers. + +“My God, Mr. Colton!” he broke out. “It couldn’t have happened!” + +“It did,” answered the blind man mildly. + +“But he was in an open automobile; a thousand persons saw him; he +answered the salutes of, perhaps, fifty policemen along Broadway. No one +was near him; no one could have got near enough to render him +unconscious with morphine.” + +“The fact that he is still in a morphine stupor is the best answer to +that.” Thornley Colton’s voice was still mild, even gentle. + +“You say that the man who lifted him out of the car did not inject the +stuff?” + +“Yes. The bounding pulse my fingers felt told me immediately that it had +been in the system at least ten minutes. The bounding pulse, as it is +called, is peculiar to morphia. I have made a special study of pulse +beats.” The blind man did not add that the pulse, to him, was the +Keyboard of Silence that told many secrets of the heart to the +supersensitive finger-tips that always rested on the wrist when he shook +hands. + +“Then that puts it right up to the chauffeur, whom the police arrested,” +admitted MacLaren. “But I can’t see how he did it,” he added. + +Sydney Thames, silent in a corner chair, also shook his head. + +“He didn’t!” snapped Colton. “If the police were forced to use brains +instead of feet to hold their jobs, there wouldn’t be so many fool +mistakes made. They should have arrested the automobile,” he finished +seriously. + +Before the surprised expression on MacLaren’s face could be put into +words the inner door opened, and the grave-faced doctor stood before +them. + +“Has Mr. Villers’s family been notified?” he asked. + +“He won’t die!” There was utter disbelief in MacLaren’s tone. + +“He will die,” amended the physician quietly. “His nerve has been +keeping his worn-out body going for years; such an overdose of morphine +could not but be fatal. I have tried to arouse him, but heroic methods +would only result in an instant stopping of his heart. He will sleep +for, perhaps, an hour more; then he will quietly stop breathing.” + +“My God, doctor! That is murder!” MacLaren’s great body dropped limply +into a chair, his face was white. He had refused to believe, before, +that the master of millions could die. It was impossible. The wonderful +machine could not stop. Now it was silent, useless. + +The doctor was speaking: “There is no doubt that a heavy dose of morphia +is responsible; every symptom points to it unmistakably, but”--the +physician stroked his Vandyke perplexedly--“I have been unable to find +the spot on his body where the hypodermic needle entered. I have +minutely examined the chest, the abdomen, the arms, thighs, even the +face. It is puzzling, very.” + +“Mr. Villers is still lying on his back?” The question was put casually +by the blind man, whom the physician had not even noticed. + +“Certainly!” The doctor answered as one answers a foolish question. + +“If you will turn him gently on his side for a moment you will probably +find the broken point of the hypodermic needle under his +shoulder-blade.” + +“His back--why----” The physician darted through the inner door. + +The doctor’s going left them silent. MacLaren’s square shoulders were +hunched forward, his eyes fixed steadily on the closed door. Sydney +Thames, in the big leather chair in the corner, was tense, rigid. A +hundred times he had heard the blind man, whom he loved, make a +statement of this kind. Never had he known him to be wrong; but always +did he fear that Thornley Colton would make some terrible mistake in his +sureness of himself. And the sightless problemist smoked his cigarette +calmly, the great, blue circles of eyes fixed on the ceiling above him. +The door opened; the doctor faced them. + +“The needle had broken under the right shoulder-blade--as you said.” +Doctor Clayton’s keen eyes bored the blind man with a look of +half-suspicion. + +The words seemed to arouse MacLaren; he realized their significance. +“How--did--you--know--that?” Each separate word was a gasp. “And blind!” +The tone of his voice was a demand for explanation. + +“I knew it because of my blindness,” explained the problemist quietly. +“We of the darkness must learn to visualize, mentally, what your eyes +accept unconsciously. We learn to see with our brains, you see without +them. My whole life has been spent in this development of mental +visualization. I can instantly picture, in my brain, a scene that has +been given me in pieces by my four other senses. And that mental picture +often goes back to events that lead up to, and make, the scene.” + +“Do you mean that you can _imagine_ who administered the morphine?” +asked MacLaren incredulously. + +“Not at all!” There was just a shade of impatience in the tone. “I have +no clairvoyant powers. I haven’t the remotest idea of the guilty +persons’ identity--yet. But I knew Mr. Villers; I knew his habits, just +as every man in New York, and Europe, too, who reads the papers, knows +them. He has probably been given more columns of newspaper space than +any other man who ever lived. Everything he did was machine-like, never +changing; as sure as the sun and moon. I know how he sits in an +automobile; I know the attention he attracts. You do, too, but you +accepted them merely as something too obvious for the brain--as merely a +routine report of the eyes. So, when I felt the unmistakable morphia +pulse, an instant’s thought told me the only possible way it could have +been administered. The trained mind doesn’t have to take up time with +the consideration of innumerable possibilities; it is trained to the +instant elimination of impossibilities. The back was the only place it +could have been injected.” + +“How? By whom?” They chorused it eagerly. + +“By the innocent tool of a master mind: Mr. Villers’s automobile.” + +“The automobile! What do you mean?” Incredulity, amazement were in the +voices of the excited men. + +“During the excitement attending the carrying of Mr. Villers to his +office my fingers were examining the cushions of the tonneau. The +upholstery had been cut in the crease formed by the two tuft buttons, +about where a man’s back would come. A specially made hypodermic was +inserted, and the cut sewed. Of course, the crease concealed the +stitches. No one ever used the car but Villers, and every one knows how +he sits in the machine. You heard the statement of the chauffeur before +the police arrested him. The jolt caused by the girder and the stalled +taxi in front of the Woolworth Building were all that was needed. If +that had not succeeded, the taxi would have swung in front and caused a +collision. Then the ‘doctor’ would have gotten right on the job there, +as he did here, when the taxi hurried on ahead to be on hand here. The +breaking of the hypo needle was almost a certainty. It only required the +barest fraction of an instant for the stuff to enter the body, and the +broken needle would at once destroy the instrument and make its presence +for some time unsuspected by any one sitting in the car.” + +“How fiendish,” murmured Doctor Clayton, and the words seemed puerile. + +MacLaren shook his head, as if to clear the cobwebs from his usually +alert brain; then he leaped to his feet, totally unmindful of the dying +man in the next room. + +“Colton, he _can’t_ die! The quarter-billion Chinese loan must be put +through to-day. The new German bond bid is being held open for us till +midnight. Another twenty-four hours’ delay means that we lose both. He +had all the data, the papers! They were----” + +“Stolen,” finished Thornley Colton quietly. “That was the object of the +game--as I told you outside.” + +“I never thought of them!” In MacLaren’s voice was the strong man’s +contrition for an unpardonable oversight. His teeth snapped together +with the squaring of his jaw as he paced the room before the silent +blind man and the red-cheeked, black-haired Sydney Thames. Behind the +closed door they could hear the hum of the doctor’s voice, as he tried +vainly to call up the Villers’s up-town house; though a hundred thousand +black-typed extras were on the street telling of the racing special +train that was bringing the family to the city and the dying man. + +MacLaren made a circuit of the office before he stopped in front of the +blind man, who idly twirled his cane. The sudden stopping of the machine +that he had thought could not stop had unnerved him completely, driven +every other thought from his mind. But theft was something he +understood. It meant money. MacLaren, too, was a money machine. + +“The loss of those papers means millions!” He was calm now, with the +calm of deadly earnestness. “More than that! The stealing of those data +Mr. Villers had means that the United States will be frozen out of both +the Chinese and German loans. You know how we had to fight for the +chance! Ours is the only American banking house that could handle them. +All the figures were prepared by Mr. Villers, and you know his +invariable rule to hold things like this until his last minute of grace. +Those papers must be recovered before midnight! Even the murder--there +seems to be no doubt that it will be murder--pales into insignificance +beside this, and”--there was a curious catch in his voice--“God knows I +loved John T. Villers. But the loss of that Chinese loan means that the +United States won’t have a say in the new republic; that American +interests will be crowded out by the powers who control China +financially. Every last detail was in those papers he was to have ready +to-day. Think of the German loan!” He was pacing the floor again, +talking as he walked. One money machine had stopped; another must take +its place. “The loss of those papers means a loss of at least ten +millions to us, and American interests in China and Germany will lose a +hundred millions in the next ten years!” + +“Midnight,” murmured Thornley Colton, as a sensitive finger-tip touched +the crystalless watch in his pocket. “And it’s now one-fifteen.” + +“Less than eleven hours!” MacLaren fairly jumped to the telephone on his +desk. “The police must have inducements to hustle!” One hand lifted the +receiver; then he swung round. “_You!_” It was almost an accusation as +he hurled it at the blind problemist. “You solved that code-book theft +for us a year ago. I’d forgotten! There isn’t a minute to lose!” + +“A man is dying in the next room,” reminded Thornley Colton quietly. + +MacLaren wet his dry lips. “I know.” His voice was lower, calmer. “But +think what it means. The hugeness of it! A theft of a hundred millions!” +It wasn’t lack of human feeling in MacLaren. He was a money machine, +doing what the man in the next room would wish done. + +The blind man nodded understandingly. “I came in this morning to see Mr. +Villers regarding his cheque for our Home for Blind Children. We haven’t +received it this year.” + +“If you can recover those papers I will give you my personal cheque for +a hundred thousand!” + +“I never accept fees,” corrected Colton. “The solving of mysteries is my +recreation. But if you will continue Mr. Villers’s contributions to the +home----” His expressive lips finished the sentence without words. + +“Yes! Ten times the amount.” MacLaren was half out of his chair, staring +at the blind man. + +“Thank you. That home means a lot to me.” The blind man spoke +reverently. “Sydney and I will look into the case after lunch; I am +hungry.” + +“Hungry? My God!” MacLaren fell back weakly into the chair. “Don’t you +realize that you have less than eleven hours? Don’t you understand that +every minute of delay may be fatal?” + +“Oh, no,” replied the problemist easily. “It will be at least several +hours before the man who has the papers finishes his elaborate +precautions for putting the police off his trail. There is no sense in +hurrying after a man who is dodging and doubling to avoid possible +pursuit. When he is convinced that his trail has been covered he will +resume his normal way. The chased hare can wear out a hundred dogs that +follow his devious windings, and when they are worn out he returns to +the bosom of his family, contented and serene. That’s where the ferret +gets him.” + +For a full minute MacLaren stared, as if the blind man had presented a +problem in Euclid which he could not understand. Then he brushed his +sweat-beaded forehead with a trembling hand. “But the police didn’t +waste an instant,” he protested. “There are two hundred detectives +working now. They’ve got a minute description of the man.” He stopped +suddenly. “You weren’t even present when they questioned the chauffeur +and the watchman!” + +“The senseless bulldozing of the police always makes me lose my temper,” +confessed Thornley Colton. “I spoke to the chauffeur for ten minutes +before the detectives arrived. Afterward I preferred to sit here, where +I could smoke a cigarette and use the telephone.” + +“But the police learned that the man who lifted Mr. Villers from the car +was stout, with a full brown beard, and dressed in light gray,” +persisted MacLaren. + +“And in this office, alone with my cigarette, I learned that he was slim +and smooth-shaven,” smiled Thornley Colton, as he rose. “But those are +minor details. He had the nail of his right index finger broken, and +wore a curious thumb ring. Also, he did not actually place the +hypodermic in the tonneau cushions. That was done by a small, slightly +built man, and a very beautiful woman who is left-handed.” + +“Without eyes----” began MacLaren gaspingly. + +“With my ten eyes.” Thornley Colton held out his two hands, with their +tapering hypersensitive fingers. + +Broadway was a pandemonium of newsboys’ shouts; Wall Street a murmur of +low-voiced speculation; newspaper offices a buzz of humming activity. +John T. Villers was dead--murdered. London whispered it solemnly, Paris +gesticulated over it, Berlin gutturaled the news phlegmatically, Tokyo +took it with characteristic lack of characteristics. Men in tin-roofed +cable offices on the coast of Africa caught the telegraph clicks with +news eagerness instead of curses. The wireless aerials of a thousand +ships filched the story from the air. The man who had builded the +American empire of money was dead. Would the empire crumble? Would the +world-power of money return to the seats of the mighty on the other side +of the ocean, where it had been before the money machine had demanded a +hand-grasp on the golden sceptre the jealous hands of Europe had wielded +so long? The money machines of Paris, London, Berlin awaited the answer +that would be in the Chinese loan, the German loan--the answer that was +in the pocket of a murderer! + +And in the quiet dining-room of the old Astor House Thornley Colton +complained to the waiter of the lack of crust shortening in the +apple-pie he was eating. It was three o’clock. + +Across the table Sydney Thames chewed his cigar nervously and tried to +keep his mind on the “latest” extra he held in his hands. He had read +the life story of John T. Villers, printed under the great black word: +“DEAD!” It was the story of the poor boy who came to the city, the story +of machine-like habits, of putting through vast deals only when he had +taken the last possible hour to consider every point, until he became +known in Europe and America as “Last-Minute” Villers. + +He read of Johnson, Villers’s personal chauffeur, who slept alone with +his wife and three small children in the big private garage that was now +empty because the dozen other Villers machines and their drivers had +gone to Bar Harbour with Mrs. Villers and the two sons. He read of +Johnson’s five years of service, of his exemplary habits, his nights +spent at home with his family; even of his taking his wife and two +larger children to the theatre the night before, while the baby was +cared for by a neighbour. Even the police admitted that he was innocent, +but police-like, they still held him. + +The story of finding the curious hypodermic, surrounded by a strong +spring to hold it in place, caused Sydney to laugh nervously. The police +had not discovered it until reporters, who had interviewed MacLaren +after Thornley Colton had left, told them of it. Now the search was on +for the taxi which had caused the Villers machine to run over the +girder. And there was no clue! The three traffic policemen who had seen +the whole thing had neither number nor idea of the machine. It was red; +so were a thousand others. An expert had said that the hypodermic of +death had been made abroad, possibly in Germany. And that was all. + +But the papers revelled in the details; they gave inch-typed prominence +to the announcement that MacLaren had offered a huge reward for certain +papers stolen from the unconscious Villers. It was a big story; the +biggest story of the most daring crime New York had ever known. + +Yes, Sydney read, and re-read, until the inch paragraph in the lower +left-hand corner regarding the activities of a band of international +smugglers was a relief. On any other day that story would have been +given prominence, to-day it was only a filler. He glanced up at the +clock on the wall, then his eyes turned toward the blind man, in them a +look of appeal for hurry. + +“Nervous, Sydney?” smiled Thornley Colton over the top of his glass of +milk. + +Thames flushed, as he usually did when this man, who had picked him up +as a bundle of baby-clothes on the banks of the English river that had +given him the only surname he had ever known, read his thoughts. + +“It is five minutes past three,” he murmured apologetically. + +“And we haven’t done a thing,” finished Colton, the smile still on his +thin, expressive lips. + +“But this is so big; the consequences----” + +“Do you expect the success of this murder to pave the way for others?” +interjected Thornley Colton mildly. + +“I wasn’t thinking----” Sydney stopped suddenly. + +“Of the murder.” The problemist again finished the sentence for him. +“You were thinking of the stolen data. So are a million others.” The +smile was cynical, now. “What a pitiful thing a human life is, compared +to a few millions. No one thinks of Villers’s death as the death of a +man. It is merely the stopping of a machine with its work unfinished.” +He took a bill from his fold and laid it beside his plate. “Come, then; +I’ll get busy.” + +“To the Villers garage?” asked Thames eagerly. “There should be +countless clues, for you, leading to the persons who placed the +hypodermic.” + +“All superfluous,” declared Thornley Colton, with a slight wave of the +thin, hollow stick he always carried. “Following a multitude of +unimportant clues is police work. We are going to the office of the +Manhattan Tug and Lighterage Company; yesterday was quite foggy. +Remember?” + +“What----” began Sydney amazedly. + +Thornley Colton interrupted. “The same?” he asked quietly. + +Sydney Thames choked back the words and glanced over the dining-room. +His brain, trained for years to count steps for the man who could not +see, and who refused a guiding arm, calculated rapidly. “The waiter is +serving the table twelve steps straight. Turn eleven, four right, and +seven to the door, left.” + +A nod, and the blind man hurried forward confidently with long, swinging +strides, the hollow cane dangling idly from his fingers. Sydney +followed, and, at the door, he stepped beside Colton. The slight touch +of his sleeve on the sightless man’s arm guided him to a taxi-cab. It +was not until the directions had been given, and they were on their way +toward the Battery, that Thornley Colton spoke. + +“The Manhattan Tug and Lighterage Company got a whole lot of free +publicity a few weeks ago in connection with that rescue at sea of the +Oldwell private yacht by one of their big sea-going tugs that happened +to be near. Recollect?” + +“Yes,” admitted Thames, puzzled. “But what has that to do with it?” + +“Nothing, except that the story went the rounds, and the name would +naturally occur to any one who needed a sea-going tug. I have an idea +that the fog of yesterday caused several persons a whole lot of anxiety. +Ah, here we are.” + +Dazedly Sydney Thames followed the blind man to the side-walk. What had +a sea-going tug to do with a robbery on Wall Street? What had the fog of +yesterday to do with the murder of to-day? But Sydney knew the +uselessness of the eager questions that were in his mind. The problemist +would tell him, all in good time. So, silently, he fell in beside +Thornley Colton, and guided him into the offices with the slight touch +of his sleeve. + +President M‘Inness was the man Colton asked for, and they were shown +into the private office immediately. + +“Glad to see you, Mr. Colton; glad to see you!” boomed the +wide-shouldered, rugged-faced man, as he took the other’s fingers in his +vice-like grip. “What is it this time; smugglers again? They say a new +gang’s workin’. They’re even watching my boats.” + +Thornley Colton shook his head, for answer to that last. Then he came +right to the point. + +“You got a wireless from the _Moravia_, early yesterday morning, to take +a passenger off at Quarantine, and rush him to New York.” It was not a +question; it was a simple statement of a known fact. + +“Sure,” admitted M‘Inness. “Then the Lord stepped in and brushed away +the fog at midnight, and the _Moravia_ docked at eight o’clock this +morning.” + +“Can you give us the name that was on the wireless?” + +“Sure. I guess you’ve heard it often enough. Percy Vanderpoole.” + +Sydney Thames could not repress a gasp of surprise; but Thornley +Colton’s tone was merely casual as he said: + +“Dreyfus MacLaren’s nephew?” + +“That’s him. He’s got about nine million dollars, you know, and he’s +certainly been making it fly in the four years since he left college. +Hasn’t brains enough to get in out of the rain, either.” + +“Um!” Thornley rolled the hollow stick between his fingers absently. +“Nothing else in the wireless, I suppose?” + +“Nope. Just wanted a tug if the _Moravia_ was held up after two o’clock. +Wasn’t. The fog lifted, she docked, and we lost two hundred dollars.” +The sentence ended in a wry smile. + +“From what I’ve heard of Vanderpoole, and from what I know of him, I +should think he’d have taken that tug anyway, and hang the expense.” The +blind man rose. “He must have been taking some one’s advice,” he +finished. + +“Be the first time he ever did, then, according to the papers,” grunted +M‘Inness. “Accordin’ to them I’ve seen, he has a bug for giving fool +dinners.” + +“So I’ve heard,” murmured Colton, backing toward the door. + +“Ain’t any use asking your game, I guess?” grinned the amiable Mr. +M‘Inness. + +“You’ll probably read about it in the morning papers,” smiled Colton. +Then he hurried out, his brain automatically counting the steps it had +registered as he entered. + +On the side-walk outside, Sydney allowed his thoughts to find expression +in two words: + +“Great Scott!” + +“It was a surprise,” admitted the problemist. “It means a total change +of plans. Take me to a telephone.” + +There was one at hand in the corridor of a big office building. For +nearly half an hour Colton telephoned, while Sydney waited outside the +closed booth vainly trying to understand this new complication. What +connection had the nephew of the man who had offered them a hundred +thousand dollars for the recovery of the papers with their theft, and +with the murder of John T. Villers? + +Colton emerged from the booth, a smile of triumph on his thin lips. + +“Now a jewellery store, Sydney,” he said crisply. “I want to buy a +cheap, unset diamond.” + +“A diamond?” echoed Thames blankly. + +“Exactly. I’ve just accepted an invitation for you and me and MacLaren +to a little dinner aboard Percy Vanderpoole’s yacht this evening. I’m +going to see if a diamond really has the wonderful power of suggestion +so often attributed to it.” + + + II. + +The Fee’s eyes sparkled with delight as he listened. When Thornley +Colton had finished, queer gurgling noises of joy issued from the boy’s +throat before the words came: + +“Jumpin’ Jiminy, Mr. Colton! A motor boat at night an’ a disguise. +That’s _real_ detective work!” + +The blind man’s lips framed a whimsical smile as he gazed down at the +red-haired, freckled-faced youth, with the slightly twisted nose, who +had become a member of the Colton household as the result of a +particularly baffling murder case, for which he had been the only fee. + +“A whole lot depends on you, Shrimp,” said Thornley Colton seriously. +“Michael will go with you, but your part will have to be done all alone. +I don’t think you will be in any personal danger; if I did I wouldn’t +let you go.” + +Some of the joyous light went from the boy’s eyes. “Chee! I wisht there +was goin’ t’ be some real gun play,” he sighed. + +“You have a long life before you,” laughed Colton. “Hurry now; here +comes Sydney.” + +As his secretary entered he turned to face him. “Your foolish fear of +women is not going to spoil it, Sydney?” he asked amusedly. + +“No!” Sydney answered with the gruffness that was always in his voice +when this subject was brought up. Sydney’s fear of woman was really +adoration. All women, to him, were angels; his fear was that he would +fall in love with one--and he was nameless, a bundle of rags, abandoned +on the banks of the Thames in London. This was constantly in Sydney +Thames’s mind. + +“Here comes MacLaren,” the blind man said suddenly; a moment later the +big, square-jawed man burst into the room. + +“Where are they? Have you got them?” he gasped, the top-coat, flung over +his arm, dragging on the floor. + +“Your coat will need the services of a dozen brushers in a short while,” +murmured Colton. + +“Damn the coat!” flared MacLaren, flinging it on to the library desk. +“I’ve walked forty miles, in that office of mine, this afternoon. Every +reporter in the world has baited me. I’ve had a very devil of a time +getting here without them on my trail. Our code messages from Europe say +the financiers are grinning up their sleeves at us. They know! And all +the word I get from you is to be here at seven o’clock, and you’d show +me where the papers were.” + +“I said I’d get the papers, and show you where the murderers were,” +corrected Colton mildly. “I have an old-fashioned idea of the value of +human life.” + +“Yes. Certainly,” choked MacLaren. The hours of inaction had done their +work. + +“We have a dinner engagement at eight,” went on Colton smoothly. + +“Dinner!” exploded the square-jawed man. “My God, man! You----” + +“Exactly.” The voice of the blind man held a new tone now; a steel-like +timbre that Sydney Thames instantly recognized. “I am taking you to that +dinner to get your mind off the terrible events of this afternoon. +Nothing else!” + +“Where is the dinner?” The meekness of the big man was almost ludicrous. + +“On the yacht of your nephew, Percy Vanderpoole.” + +“That fool!” There was acridity in the voice this time. + +“He has that reputation.” Sydney Thames thought the tone dry. “He is +giving what he calls a wireless dinner on his yacht, anchored off the +Metropolis Yacht Club. All the arrangements were made, and the +invitations sent out from the _Moravia_, by wireless. You know Percy has +quite a reputation for unique affairs of this kind. I called him up this +afternoon regarding some other matter, and he insisted that I come. I +sought an invitation for you, and I got it. Several men who were friends +on the way over are included.” + +“All right,” agreed MacLaren gloweringly. + +“We’ll go to the club in your car,” was all Thornley Colton said, as he +led the way from the room. + +Vanderpoole’s guests were all awaiting their appearance, and +introductions were hurried through. There was a gushy, black-haired Miss +Clements, who was paired with an anæmic, slightly-built American; a +tall, stout German, who answered the name of Von Wagnen, with pale +cheeks, and chin that contrasted strangely with his ruddy forehead; a +dissipated-looking Englishman named Brookes; several feminine +nonentities, and one or two of Percy’s male society friends. It was a +mixed party, characteristic of the money-flinging Percy Vanderpoole. + +The hurry was in honour of the military-looking Count d’Auboi whom Percy +had met in Europe two years before, with his charming wife, the +countess. The count had been aboard the _Moravia_. So had the countess, +though Percy chaffed her for taking her cabin before he even knew she +was aboard, and staying there the whole time. Her cheeks were +colourless, but her eyes shone, despite the fearful ordeal of +seasickness she now laughed over. And there was the great joke of the +count, who confessed that he had never been in America, losing Percy on +the pier, and wandering around the city for several hours, with his +nervous wife, until they succeeded in locating Percy by telephone. + +“They finally got to the Waldorf, Lord knows how,” laughed Percy, as he +led the way to the dining-cabin. “And now they’re going on the midnight +train to Frisco, so we’ll have to hustle this little affair through.” + +“My seestair, she is married there,” smiled the count, in his broken +English. Then, with entire disregard of connection: “An’ I even mees my +brodair-in-law, Mr. Clauson”--he indicated the anæmic-looking +American--“who come to meet us.” + +Sydney took his seat, almost tremulously between the Countess d’Auboi +and the vivacious Miss Clements, at the table in the mahogany-finished +cabin. But in a few minutes he was surprised and delighted to find that +his foolish fear of the sex was being driven away like mist before the +sunshine of the charming countess’s conversation. Miss Clements, at his +left, chattered away at a mad rate to Clauson, and did not bother him. +But the countess, her wonderful voice surcharged with sympathy and the +intuitive understanding of women, drew him from his shell immediately. + +Across the table the blind man chatted with Count d’Auboi, who was even +more charming, if possible, than his wife. At the head of the table +Percy laughed uproariously at the dissipated-looking Englishman’s +account of his first pigsticking in India. At the foot, MacLaren +glowered in silence, utterly ignoring the sullen-looking German and the +yellow-haired woman who was his partner. The dissipated Englishman and +the German were cabin friends Percy had met on the _Moravia_. They had +both been interesting, and that was all Percy ever asked. + +During a lull in the conversation Percy happened to glance at the face +of the German, who had relapsed into sullen silence after repeated +attempts to get a word from MacLaren. + +“Any one would think you’d committed a crime, Von Wagnen,” he laughed. + +The blind man was the only one who did not see the blood mount to the +strangely pale cheeks of the Teuton; but MacLaren was the only one who +caught the lighting eye signal from the Englishman. His own eyes +narrowed cunningly. This was no mere dinner engagement! + +“But what a horrible crime the murder of Mr. Villers was!” gushed Miss +Clements, with a shiver. + +“By Jove!” The ejaculation came from Percy Vanderpoole. “You used to be +quite clever at solving mysteries, Mr. Colton. Why don’t you get on this +one?” + +MacLaren cursed under his breath. Sydney Thames could not keep the +startled look from his eyes. + +“You are a detective, Mr. Colton?” The countess asked it almost +accusingly, the charming touch of accent in her voice giving it a subtle +undercurrent of laughter. + +Thornley Colton’s thin lips smiled back at her. “I do a little in that +line,” he admitted. + +“Tell us about eet.” It was the count at his side, eyes eager with +interest. + +“My cases are only simple little affairs, naturally,” deprecated the +blind man. He thrust two fingers into his waistcoat pocket. “Here is +something that I expect to solve a mystery for me.” He held a small, +glittering diamond on his outstretched palm. MacLaren’s keen ears caught +the sharp intake of breath of the German at his side. “Yes,” continued +the problemist. “That came from the thumb ring of a pickpocket, torn +from the prongs by the lining of his victim’s coat.” + +“An’ he deed not know eet--what a joke!” laughed the count, picking up +the diamond from the extended palm, more closely to examine the stone. +The light from the shaded incandescents above reflected in the four +small rubies that formed the eyes of the twisted snake ring he wore on +his thumb. + +The sullen-looking German had apparently recovered his nerve. MacLaren +looked puzzled. + +“Let’s see it; I know a bit about the bally things.” The Englishman took +the stone from the count. “There’s a flaw in it as big as a shilling!” +he announced, with the disgust of an expert. Again MacLaren caught the +signal of eyes to the German beside him. + +“Dere iss few goot stones,” announced the Teuton ponderously. + +“Ple-ese tell us about it?” pleaded the countess. + +“Oh, do, please do,” pouted Miss Clements, as if to forestall a refusal. +The request was chorused by the others. + +“It really isn’t worth it,” protested Colton; then he seemed to know, +for the first time, that the Englishman held the stone for him to take +back. “Thank you,” he smiled, as he replaced it carefully in his pocket. +“I was afraid some one would switch off the lights and steal it in the +darkness and confusion. By the way, Percy, is that deck-light switch +still where it used to be when your father was alive?” + +“The same place,” nodded Vanderpoole. “Right beside the cabin-door, on +the after-deck.” + +“See!” Colton’s laugh was loud, but somehow it did not seem to ring +true. “Any one could steal the stone in the darkness, and get away with +it.” + +MacLaren scowled. His quick mind understood that Colton wanted the +location of that switch for some purpose of his own. And, without eyes, +he must take this method of learning its location. But he knew that the +other guests, too, had recognized some sinister motive under the +palpable affectation of banter the blind man had assumed. There came a +tenseness there had not been before. And every one knew the location of +the switch that could plunge the decks into instant darkness. + +“Let’s have the coffee and cigarettes under the awnings on the +after-deck,” suggested Percy, to cover the break. + +“Let’s,” acquiesced Colton eagerly, then he paused impressively for an +instant. “If you’ll hurry I’ll tell you something about the Villers +murder. I _am_ working on that case!” + +Instantly chairs were pushed back as the guests crowded to the door. + +As Sydney rose, the countess found time to whisper in his ear: + +“He speaks strangely, your Mr. Colton.” There was feminine nervousness +in her voice. Sydney nodded dumbly, sick at heart. The blind man he +loved had made a mistake. + +MacLaren kept close to the sullen German, utterly ignoring his +yellow-haired dinner partner. The money machine’s hands were clenched in +his pockets, his shoulders braced for some attack. “A big, stout man, +with a full beard,” was the description he remembered. The Teuton +answered that description perfectly; the pale cheeks showed where the +beard had been recently shaven. He passed out to the awninged, +dimly-lighted deck, brushing the coat of the blind man, who stood beside +the door, almost over the small wicker table where the countess and +Sydney had taken their seats with the brother-in-law of the count and +the chatty Miss Clements. + +For several seconds the blind man stood there, apparently calmly eyeing +them. The light of the switch incandescent shone on his wavy, white +hair, his broad shoulders, his deep chest. The German moved uneasily. +The dissipated-looking Englishman, who had manœuvred to a seat beside +him, gripped his arm. Every muscle in MacLaren’s body was tense. The +yellow-haired woman and the three other feminine nonentities bit their +lips nervously. + +Sydney Thames could not repress his own nervousness. Was the blind man +going to accuse desperate men who had murdered a man and robbed him of +papers worth a hundred millions? No help was near. The sky was cloudy, +the anchorage was deserted, except for an empty speed boat that rode at +anchor in the silent darkness two hundred yards away. + +Then Thornley Colton spoke quietly, smoothly. “The story of the diamond +is the story of the Villers murder.” One hand drew out the crystalless +watch. “It is now ten-thirty; at ten-forty-five the police will search +this boat for the papers stolen from the unconscious man in front of his +office!” Men and women jumped to their feet. “Sit still!” His hand went +above his head. The switch snapped out. They were in darkness. + +A chair toppled over. They heard him fumble with the switch lever. Then, +shrill, frightened, came the voice of a boy: + +“Let go! Let go! I’m workin’ fer Mister Colton!” + +The lights came. Startled men and women saw a small boy squirming in the +grasp of a brawny man. Sydney Thames knocked over the empty chair at his +right as he leaped to his feet. It was The Fee, caught, and in his hand +was a black bag. + +“It’s the papers!” yelled The Fee. + +Thames knew instantly the reason for that sudden darkness. It was +Colton’s plan--and an ignorant deck hand had ruined it! + +But almost in a bound Thornley Colton was at the boy’s side. He tore the +man’s hands from his arm, with fingers like steel. + +“It’s all right, Mike; start ’er!” screamed the freckle-faced boy. + +Under their very feet, seemingly, came the bark of a gasoline engine. + +“Stand back!” ordered Colton. + +Dumbly, as if dazed, they obeyed. The boy stood alone at the rail. Below +him the motor boat coughed. + +Dreyfus MacLaren jumped forward to take the bag. A clenched fist sent +him sprawling. A hand tore the bag from the boy’s hand. A black +automatic swept before the circle of white faces. Behind it was Count +d’Auboi, lips drawn back in a snarl. + +“I take it!” The snarling smoothness went out of the voice; it rose to a +yell: “_Jean!_” + +At the signal the darkness again shut down on them. They stood huddled +together before the menacing automatic they could not see. + +“A move, I shoot into ze crowd, a woman, maybe,” came the flint-like +voice of the count before them. Somewhere behind them came the sounds of +a short scuffle, a snarled oath. A man leaped to the rail. A splash +sounded below; then a hoarse order in French. + +“’Nette!” snapped the count. There was no response. Again came that +hoarse voice from the water. A scrambling shadow over the rail. The +motor boat leaped away from the side. + +Out of the darkness came the piercing call of a police whistle. Across +the black waters a broad beam of dazzling white shot out--picked up the +boat--held it. Men were running on the decks of the speed craft two +hundred yards away. It fairly leaped in pursuit of the smaller boat. + +The white searchlight brought out the escaping boat with startling +vividness. The two men crouched over the wheel. The black bag was on the +seat beside them. A line of fire shot from the pursuing boat. Another. +The small engine went dead. The space was closing now--fifty +yards--twenty--the searchlight still held like a calcium. + +The stupefied watchers on the yacht saw the count stand up in the boat; +saw him look wildly around. He stooped, picked up the black satchel, and +flung it far out into the water. In the bright glare they could see his +very teeth bared in a snarling smile as he waited. The ripples gleamed +in an ever-widening circle where the satchel had sunk. + +“Nervy devil, isn’t he?” It was the cool voice of Thornley Colton. For +the first time the watchers realized that the lights were on again; that +they had been actors in reality, not wraiths in a dream. + +Dreyfus MacLaren was first to recover, and as he raised his voice it had +in it the strong man’s sob: + +“My God! The data!” + +“The charming Countess Annette is sitting on them,” smiled Thornley +Colton. “I couldn’t bear exposing her to police shots. She is handcuffed +to her chair.” + + + III. + +“Yes, Sydney, the police can’t be beaten when it comes to making +arrests. Find the guilty ones, label them, lead them up to the police, +and the cops’ll get them every time. And the police dearly love a plant, +that’s why they worked so well to-night. You see, I made all the +arrangements this afternoon when you had left me in disgust to walk off +your nervousness. The telephone is a mighty handy thing for the blind.” +He took a sip of the vichy at his elbow, and touched the crystalless +watch lying on the old-fashioned library table before him. It was +twelve-thirty. + +“But how--where?” Sydney Thames changed it to a confession. “I am still +dazed.” + +“I suppose you’ll have to have it all,” smiled Colton. “All right. Ten +minutes’ intelligent conversation with the chauffeur before the fool +detectives arrived gave me practically all of the information I needed. +He told me of the theatre party with his wife and two eldest children. I +was interested because they went to a famous Broadway children’s show, +where the seat prices are high. The tickets had been given his wife by a +rich woman who devoted her time to showing mothers how to care for their +babies, and had taken an interest in his own. Of course, that told me +immediately how the chauffeur had been gotten away while the car was +fixed. Through his wife and tots was the only way he could be reached. + +“Then I wanted to know if there was a good, quiet hotel near by. The +woman must have taken quarters near his home to be on the watch for the +opportunity to get acquainted with his wife and children. They are +fairly well-to-do, and would resent the professional interference of a +settlement worker. There was. A telephone call from MacLaren’s office +while you and the others were outside with the police--with the +description the chauffeur had given me--fixed her as a Mrs. Allen, a +widow, who was spending her money and time on poor babies. She had been +there two weeks. She wasn’t in when I called, but would be in the +morning. See how clever. Not a breath of suspicion by telling them that +she was going to leave. Did she have a habit of calling a special taxi? +She did, from the Nelson House. It was easy to get a description of the +chauffeur from the starter there. The calls had been made without any +attempt at concealment; for who would connect a settlement worker in New +York with the wife of a French count? The chauffeur had been employed a +week. He was undoubtedly an American. The woman was French, though she +spoke English perfectly. See how simple the possibilities are when the +foolish impossibilities the police delight in are eliminated? + +“Then the chauffeur’s recollection of the bearded man who had lifted +Villers out of the car; his stilted way of speaking. I knew then that +he, too, was a Frenchman, trying to hide it by repeating, slowly and +carefully, without his usual accent, words he had learned by rote. Where +had he been while the other two were making the arrangements? A man with +the brains and knowledge to plan a crime like that couldn’t be common +enough, even in appearance, to hide successfully for two weeks. I +remembered the _Moravia_, due from Havre last night. What could be a +greater alibi than that of a man who had been in the city but a few +hours? But the fog must have caused him considerable anxiety. That’s why +I went to see M‘Inness. I knew the name of the Manhattan Tug and +Lighterage Company would still be in everybody’s mind. You know that +Percy stepped in and sent that message on his own hook--at a hint from +the count, of course, who was quick to see that that would cover his +last possible connection. When I got him on the phone I learned of the +count and his wife for the first time. Then I realized how infernally +clever they were, and knew I’d have to act accordingly. The Englishman +and the German also entered to complicate affairs. I didn’t know whether +they were in it or not.” + +“But the description you gave in MacLaren’s office,” interrupted Sydney. +“It was wholly at variance with that of every one who had seen him. And +the left-handed woman who placed the hypodermic?” + +Colton laughed. “The first came from knowledge of human nature. If he +was stout and full-bearded when he exposed himself before the eyes of +several hundred persons, it was a moral certainty that he was neither, +with the disguise off. He’d absolutely reverse it when he stepped into +the taxi that was waiting around the corner after it had let him off in +time to get the papers. The stitches in the cushions told me the other. +They were too fine to have been made by a man. My fingers showed me that +the needle had been thrust upward, instead of downward, as would have +been the case with a right-handed person.” + +“But the actual robbery?” insisted Sydney. “The man with the broken +finger-nail? I paid particular attention at the dinner. All seemed +perfect.” + +“You are learning to observe,” smiled the blind man. “When my fingers +brushed the coat-lining of the unconscious man they felt the torn +threads of the caught finger-nail as it swept upward when he thrust his +hand under the coat for the thick packet of papers. But the packet was +evidently wedged, in some way, for it was necessary for him to thrust +his whole hand down into the pocket. His thumb ring tore the lining +slightly at the corner. These things could not be seen with the naked +eye, but they could be felt with fingers trained to read handwriting by +touching the reverse side of the paper, and feeling the indentations of +the pencil.” + +Sydney nodded understandingly. “Now if you’ll explain the diamond, and +The Fee’s entrance?” he asked. + +“Suggestion. Psychology,” declared Thornley Colton seriously. “The +diamond held on my palm was primarily intended to find the man whose +broken finger-nail had pulled the threads from the coat lining. Held on +my palm, the man who picked it up must touch my flesh with his +finger-nail. The count’s was cut to the quick; that of his thumb was +long and tapering. Then the Englishman wanted to see it. I knew he +wasn’t the man, therefore I caused the stampede to the after-deck with +the promise of telling about the Villers murder to find out what he and +his German friend really were. A quick touch in the crowd, as they came +through the door, felt the heavy belt around the German’s waist. +Smugglers! + +“That was easy, merely an incident in the case. But the police seemed +glad to get them. They were part of the long-sought band. So we’ll +dismiss them. But their presence shows further cleverness on the part of +the wily count in including them to divert suspicion if it became +necessary. He probably knew their game, and would have used it to cover +his, if he had to. + +“My talk of the thumb-ringed pickpocket was intended to make the count +suspicious of me. My reference to the light switch and the darkness were +for the sole purpose of showing him how he could escape if it came to a +show-down. My idiotic attempt to cover up what he, and others, supposed +to be the only means I had of locating that switch was not intended to +deceive them; it was intended to make them understand that I thought I +was deceiving them. I knew the papers must be somewhere near; they +planned to get away at midnight. But I couldn’t take a chance of +arresting them, and then searching; for men clever enough to steal those +papers would be clever enough to put them where no one could get them. +Therefore the talk of the police search and the pulling of the switch to +put out the lights. + +“By that time they understood that the only thing they could do was get +away. I’d stood watching them in silence long enough to let them see +that the anchorage was deserted, and that they had a pretty fair chance +of escaping. When the darkness came I knew one of them would take +instant advantage of it, and get the papers if they weren’t already on +his person. You didn’t give a thought to Clauson’s being absent when you +toppled over his empty chair, as you saw The Fee with that fake bag +bait. I did, and I knew the count would look at that bag as I intended +he should. He wasn’t given an opportunity to see that Clauson had gone. +He was told of the ready boat, given an opportunity to grab the bag from +the boy’s hand. He called ‘Jean’ as a signal for Clauson to put out the +lights. Jean wasn’t there, but the quick-witted countess was. Jean, of +course, heard that call, and came running. I met him at the cabin-door, +held him long enough to get the packet from his inside pocket. It was +easy, for”--a whimsical-smile came to the thin lips--“I am quite at home +in the darkness. It was done so quickly that the frightened Jean hardly +knew it, I guess, and, of course, the count supposed the boy had gotten +the data for me. Then the police stepped in, and we saw the spectacular +play of the greatest crook I ever had the pleasure of meeting, while the +countess struggled on the chair to escape. I’d put the papers under her +for safe-keeping, and also because they wouldn’t go in my dinner-coat +pocket.” + +“Then,” puzzled Sydney, “the doctor who first attended Villers was--this +count! But I can’t see why--he needed his bag?” + +“Because he was a mighty clever man. He knew it would be easy to take a +thick packet of papers from Villers’s pocket without being seen, but he +also knew that it would be almost impossible to slip them into his own +unobserved. Therefore the open doctor’s bag at his feet, where they +could be dropped in an instant.” + +“Papers worth a hundred million,” murmured Sydney Thames, almost in awe. + +“And costing a single, human life,” digressed Thornley Colton wearily. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + THE FOURTH PROBLEM + + THE FLYING DEATH + + + I. + +The last sobbing notes of the violin died away. Slowly, reverently, the +girl lowered the bow and lifted her chin; the throat-filling hush +wrought by the conjuring of her music became wild, unrestrained applause +as the spell broke. The beating surges of sound from the gallery, the +balcony, the floor seemed to frighten her a little; the frail body in +its simple white frock shrank before it; but the girlish lips smiled +bravely as she bowed her way to the wings. + +Clamorous, insistent, the applause continued. She reappeared; silence +came as she lifted the violin to her chin. The lilting fantasy of a +folk-song rollicked from under the dancing bow. Once more came the +enthusiastic outburst when she finished. She gestured her thanks, smiled +an instant at the upper right-hand box, laughed and kissed her hand to +the lone occupant of lower left and ran from the stage. + +“Sheer genius, Sydney!” murmured Thornley Colton, in expression of the +reverence good music always aroused in him; for music, to the blind man, +held all the pleasures that painting, sculpture, and beautiful +architecture hold for those whom God has given sight. Now his whole +face, from the high forehead to the lean, cleft chin, was alight; even +the sightless eyes seemed to shine behind the great blue circles of the +smoked-glass, tortoise-shell-rimmed library spectacles that accentuated +the striking whiteness of his face and hair. + +“Wonderful!” breathlessly agreed the red-cheeked, black-haired Sydney +Thames, secretary and constant companion of the blind man. + +“It makes my woids muss up when I try to talk,” gulped The Fee, +freckle-faced, red-haired, blue-eyed boy, who had become a member of the +Colton household at the conclusion of a particularly baffling murder +case. Thornley Colton laughed softly and pushed back his chair. Then +real alarm came to the boy’s voice. “Gee, yuh ain’t goin’ now?” he +pleaded. “They’s a coupla comedy acr’bats an’ a wop knife t’rower yet!” + +“We’ll wait,” promised Colton, as he made room for a pale-faced young +man who had just risen to hurry past him and out of the box. + +The problemist moved his chair farther back, and whispered to Sydney. +“Our friend who just left seems to be troubled with a mighty bad case of +nerves,” he observed. “My cane could feel his chair trembling under him +the whole time the girl was playing. He seemed to jump a foot when she +left the stage that last time, and he’s been muttering under his breath +ever since. What happened?” + +“I’d say he was wildly in love with her, and madly jealous of some one +else,” accounted Sydney. “She smiled up at him an instant after that +last encore, but she immediately turned and kissed her hand to the man +in the lower left-hand box. If ever black rage shone in a man’s face it +was on that of our neighbour. He isn’t more than twenty-two or three, +and he doesn’t look as if he had ever learned to curb a nasty temper.” + +“He left as if he were going in search of some one’s heart blood,” +smiled the blind man, leaning back in his chair. + +One of the comedy acrobats had just succeeded in pushing the other from +a high table, and was joyously dancing on his rubber stomach, to the +great delight of The Fee, and some fourteen or fifteen hundred others. + +“You don’t happen to know the occupant of lower left?” asked Colton. +Somehow the thought of sordid jealousy of two men, and a girl whose +witchery could produce such music, seemed to jar. + +Sydney gazed covertly down at the occupant of lower left. He was a +big-bodied man, and fat. There were fleshy pouches of good living and +bad drinking under his eyes; but no dissipation could hide the iron +will, the dominant arrogance the heavy chin showed. He sat back in the +deep box, the black of his evening clothes verging into the black of the +heavy velvet hangings that covered the wall behind him. The white +expanse of shirt front contrasted strikingly with the sombre background; +one white fist rested on the back of a gold chair. + +“It’s James P. Cartwright, the theatrical manager!” returned Sydney +suddenly. “Her manager!” he supplemented in sudden anger as he compared +the innocent girlishness of the violinist and the coarse grossness of +the recognized man in the box. Sydney Thames deified all women from +afar, for he had forbidden himself the joys of propinquity, because he +could never forget that he had no name but that of the English river on +the banks of which Thornley Colton had found him, a bundle of dirty +baby-clothes, years before. + +“Cartwright has an unenviable reputation among his women of the stage,” +muttered Colton. The smile was gone from the thin, expressive lips now. +The rocking notes of the fantastic folk-song still haunted him; the +sobbing cadence of the piece she had played before was in his mind: an +omen of tragedy. A soul that could conjure music like that--and a +Cartwright who, gossip said, demanded his price for others’ success! + +The two comedy acrobats had disinterred themselves from an avalanche of +chairs and a table; the first to his feet had been promptly knocked down +by the other, and dragged off the stage by his heels, while The Fee and +a few hundred others shouted and clapped their approval. A card +announced Signor Delvetoi and his marvellous whirling knives. + +Sydney, watching the occupant of the lower left, saw him take out a big +watch impatiently, lean ponderously back in a chair, and summon an +usher. The uniformed man came, listened a moment, nodded, and opened the +door at the stage end of the box, to reappear a moment later and whisper +his message, or news. Cartwright nodded, and turned his attention idly +toward the stage, where the signor sent a whirling knife toward the high +boards before which his yellow-haired partner had set a red apple +swinging on a long string. The knife point thudded into the wood; the +cut string parted, and the apple rolled to the stage floor. + +“Gee, that’s some stunt!” ecstatically exclaimed The Fee, as he +enthusiastically described the feat of the black-bearded signor to +Colton. + +A handful of playing cards flurried before the wooden stop. Three +whirling knives shot across the whole length of the stage; three cards +were pinned fast, and the assistant held them up triumphantly to show +the pierced ace spots. + +Cartwright inclined his head in a nod of grudging approval, then turned +quickly as he heard the door that led back to the stage open. Sydney saw +the girl who had played appear in her street clothes, a simple white +shirt waist and dark skirt, her coat thrown over her arm. He gritted his +teeth at the greeting she gave the theatrical manager, and as he saw the +flush of happiness on the winsome face, while the thick lips of the man +grinned as he took her coat. Cartwright jerked his thumb toward the +stage where the dexterous signor had just succeeded in planting five +knives in a black spot not bigger than a half dollar. + +He pulled his chair close to that of the girl, and they sat talking; the +girl with many pretty, unconscious gestures, the man listening, with a +jerky nod now and then. They were in the rear of the box, not three feet +from the heavy velvet hangings that covered the wall back of them. They +could not be seen from the body of the theatre, but from the upper box +opposite, where Sydney sat, everything in their box was visible. + +Sydney interrupted The Fee’s excited description of the signor’s act +long enough to tell the news to Colton; and he made no excuse for his +spying. The blind man nodded grimly, and continued his patient listening +to The Fee, who was having the time of his young life. The signor, in +his suit of black silk and his black, pointed beard, had performed +miracles with the whirling knives. Now the boy waited breathlessly for +this last feat, because the soft music of the orchestra told him it +would be the best of all. A huge frame was being lowered from the flies. +The blond assistant stepped to the small shelf, thrust her hands through +the leather loops, and stood against the golden back, arms spread wide, +feet apart. The signor brought his table of glittering knives to the +footlights; the frame and the assistant swung aloft. The lights went +out. Darkness for a few brief seconds, then the calcium from the balcony +outlined the suspended woman and the gold background. + +“Ah!” The Fee’s gasp swelled a thousand others, as the knife shot into +the calcium beam from the darkness below, whirled with a thousand silver +fires, and buried its point in the wood, blade grazing the cheek of the +woman. A few seconds of breathless suspense, and another followed, to +graze the ear. Even Sydney forgot the man and girl in the box as he +watched the whirling blades. The weirdness of the thing held him +fascinated; the knives, hurled from the hands of the man who was +invisible in the darkness below the single light beam, pinwheeled +through the light to find their place unerringly. + +Then something caused Sydney Thames to turn his eyes again to the lower +box. At the instant a flash of lurid light leaped from the darkness, +silhouetting with startling vividness the seated man and girl. The roar +of a pistol came to his ears; and while the light cut the darkness he +saw behind the seated man and girl the face of the youth who had been in +the box with them; the man whose jealousy had been shown so plainly. + +Pandemonium followed instantly. A chair crashed over in the darkness +across the theatre; clear above the cries of the panic-stricken men and +women came the scream of a man: + +“My God! I didn’t do it! I didn’t! I didn’t!” + +The scream stopped. “Lights!” frenziedly called some one from the +darkness. + +They came. In the box opposite, Sydney Thames saw Cartwright struggling +with the man whose face he had seen so distinctly in the pistol’s flash. +On the floor of the box, face downward, was the girl of the violin. +Between her shoulders, on the white shirt waist, was a widening splotch +of crimson. + + + II. + +The girl was dead. The white-coated ambulance surgeon who examined her +had shaken his head, and refused to take her in the ambulance. The +morgue waggon had taken the body but a short time after the police +reserves had beaten their way through a mob of thousands to arrest the +white-faced, hysterical prisoner, who cried his innocence through lips +battered by the fist of Cartwright. + +In the precinct station the prisoner had collapsed, and Cartwright told +his story. He had heard a slight noise, and swung around in his chair. +At that instant came the flash of the pistol behind him. He heard the +man drop it, and he leaped to grapple with him. Yes, he knew the +prisoner; name was Nelson, a half-baked kid, who had bothered Miss +Reynolds for months. Yes, this was Miss Reynolds’s first engagement; her +first appearance on any stage. He was her manager. No, nothing else. +Emphatically! + +The prisoner, brought around roughly, swore that he was innocent. He had +known Miss Reynolds for months, they had been friends in Europe. She had +asked him to be present at her first appearance, and at the end of her +act he had gone to meet her at the stage entrance. It was there that he +was told that she had an engagement with Cartwright. That this made him +wild with jealousy he admitted; he knew Cartwright by reputation, and +Miss Reynolds was but a girl, innocent, unsophisticated. + +He had walked around outside the theatre for about fifteen minutes, then +he had decided to go to the box and demand an explanation. The theatre +was in darkness for the knife-throwing act, but he knew his way. His +hand had been on the black velvet hangings when he stopped. And the +revolver flash had come _from the air_ not a foot ahead of him. No, he +could not explain how the shot had been fired. No one could have moved +from the spot where the pistol had been, _because the weapon dropped on +his toe_! + +He was taken away to a cell on a charge of murder. + +Cartwright, leaving the station when the last of the curious crowd had +drifted away, seemed to have aged ten years since the tragedy. He was +haggard, the grim, hard smile that had been characteristic was gone, his +big hands trembled. He tried in vain to get permission to remove the +girl’s body from the morgue immediately. But the law demanded that the +coroner see it first; and the official was out of town. + +Cartwright remembered his political friends. He tried to locate a dozen +over the telephone and failed. Then, by chance, he met the one man in +the city who could help him; the one man among the four millions whom he +could trust: Theodore Rogers, the theatrical lawyer, a friend for thirty +years. + +He tried to tell Rogers what he wanted, but his nervousness made his +words a jumble. + +“What is it, Jim? What’s the trouble?” Rogers shook him, and he looked +into his eyes anxiously. + +Cartwright told him of the shooting. “And, by God, Ted!” he finished +passionately. “I won’t rest a minute till I see that devil in the +electric chair! God! To kill a girl like that!” + +The lawyer looked at him curiously. This was not the cool, suave +Cartwright he had known so long. + +Cartwright read the look on the lawyer’s face, and the thoughts behind +it. “Not that! I swear it’s not that, Ted!” he choked. + +“Come, have a drink,” pleaded Rogers, pulling him toward the lighted +entrance of a rathskeller. + +“With that girl on a slab in the morgue?” + +“One drink,” insisted Rogers. “You are worse than useless this way. +Come!” + +He dragged Cartwright down the steps. The clock over the bar said +half-past two, and the leather-seated booths were in darkness. But +drinks could be had. The barman dozed, and the lone waiter yawned as he +carried a tray toward the booths in the rear. Rogers led the theatrical +man to a seat at the side of the room in front of the bar, ordered +whisky, and waited patiently until Cartwright had gulped down the +liquor. + +“Now tell me about it, Jim,” demanded Rogers. + +Cartwright, as near the end of the leather seat as he could get, glanced +at the dark booths in the back, then turned and surveyed the front of +the place. The rathskeller was empty, except for the dozing barman and +the waiter, who had gone into one of the front booths to figure his +day’s checks. + +“Don’t think--what you’ve been thinking about me and that girl, Ted.” +There was almost pathetic pleading in the manager’s voice; it was +pitched so low that even the lawyer at the other side of the narrow +table could scarcely hear. “She was--a daughter to me--the daughter of +the only woman I ever loved.” + +Rogers stared. This from the man Broadway thought it knew! + +“Remember twenty years ago?” continued Cartwright, in that same low, +pleading voice. “The girl I took away from Kelly, that drunken burlesque +magician?” + +The lawyer nodded, a look of understanding in his eyes. + +“You know we loved each other, and we ran away; she, and I, and the six +months’ old kid,” he went on. “You know how she died: killed in the C. & +O. wreck two hours out of Chicago, two hours after we started--and the +kid under her body, alive! I guess that’s what woke me up. All I thought +about after that was making money for the kid. I put her with good +people, and I didn’t tell them who she was, or who I was. When she got +old enough to understand, I adopted her legally. But she never knew who +her father and mother were. I couldn’t tell her about the drunken sot +that died in the Chicago alcoholic ward. A thing like that would have +spoiled her. + +“She was born with music in her. I kept her away from me and the people +that knew me. I sent her abroad. And to-night was her try-out! I wanted +to see if she could face the lights, because I wouldn’t have her laughed +at by the highbrows if she couldn’t make good. And she did! God, how +they went wild! I wouldn’t tell a soul that she was my adopted +daughter--until to-morrow. Now----” He fingered his whisky glass with +twitching hands. + +Theodore Rogers, whose heart was reputed to be of stone, felt a lump in +his throat. He pushed his gloves from the table, so in bending he would +get the needed instant to hide his feelings. Something made him jerk up +his head! He saw---- + +The roar of the pistol in his ears deafened him. He cried out as the +long-barrelled gun recoiled across the table and struck him, butt +foremost, on the chest. His glass was crashed to a hundred pieces as the +pistol fell on the table before him. The white shirt front of Cartwright +was black, a small circle of fire glowed in the linen; on his face was +an awful look of horror as his head pitched forward on his arms. + +And then Rogers understood what his eyes had first seen; the picture +that had lasted but the hundredth part of a second, perhaps, but which +would be graven on his mind for a lifetime. + +He had seen the pistol against Cartwright’s heart, _with nothing to hold +it there_; the recoil of the explosion had driven it across the table +before it fell, _because no human hand had grasped it; no finger had +pulled the trigger_! + + + III. + +In the darkness of his library Thornley Colton paced back and forth. The +cigarette-end glowed and died as he puffed thoughtfully. Each detail of +the girl’s murder at the theatre, described to him by the excited +Sydney, while panic had raged above them and below them in the playhouse +the night before, was being visualized by the wonderful brain that so +unerringly found logic in seeming absurdity; explanation in apparent +impossibility--because that brain had never been tricked by seeing eyes. + +The murder of the girl had moved him mightily; the stilling forever of +that wonderful music seemed more a crime against the world than against +an individual. And as he paced the curtained room the mosaics of detail +became a complete picture, and he knew--_knew_--that the man who had +left their box so hurriedly the night before; the man whom Sydney had +_seen_ fire the shot, was guiltless of the murder! + +He turned to face the door as hurried footsteps proclaimed to his +trained, supersensitive ears that Sydney Thames was approaching. + +“Cartwright has been murdered!” cried the red-cheeked secretary +breathlessly. “It happened too late for the morning papers, but The Fee +got some early extras of the evening editions with full details.” + +“Where? How?” asked Colton. + +“In an up-town rathskeller. He was shot by Theodore Rogers, the lawyer.” + +“He was not,” corrected the blind man quietly. + +“How did you hear of it?” demanded Sydney, in surprise. + +“This is the first intimation I had of such a thing, but your statement +was just a little too positive; your voice told me that _you_ believe +Rogers guilty because of the utter impossibility of the story he must +have given the police.” + +Sydney flushed. “But his story is crazy, insane!” he insisted. + +“Perhaps if I heard it----” suggested Colton. + +Excitedly, with utter disbelief in his voice, Sydney Thames told of the +unheld pistol Rogers swore he saw; of its firing with no finger near the +trigger; of its recoil, and fall. + +“Of course the police arrested him,” continued Sydney. “Cartwright held +a lot of Rogers’s paper. That’s the motive. They’ve got a clear case, as +clear as the one against the love-crazed kid who shot the violinist.” + +“Just as clear,” echoed Colton slowly. Then: “But haven’t you withheld +the fact that the pistols used in both murders are exactly alike?” + +“How--did you know--that?” gasped Sydney. Many times he had heard the +blind man make such amazing statements, but they always startled him. + +“Because both crimes were committed by the same man in the same way!” + +“But Nelson, the kid who shot the girl, was locked up in a cell,” +protested Thames. + +“Exactly,” admitted the blind man. “But he killed Cartwright as surely +as he murdered the girl.” + +It was several seconds before the meaning of that sentence struck +Sydney. “He shot that girl in the back!” rebelled Thames. “I saw his +face over the flash of the pistol. Even he admits that no one else could +have fired it, because it fell on his toe!” + +“Rogers swears that no one did fire the bullet which killed Cartwright,” +reminded Colton. “And the pistol fell on the table in front of him.” + +“That’s impossible,” asserted Thames emphatically. “Some one must have +held the gun. Some one must have pulled the trigger. There can be no +explanation of what he says he saw. The days of ghosts and black magic +have passed.” + +“But not the days of black murder,” retorted Colton. “There is no black +art, ghosts, or hypnotism in the murders of last night. The method is +unique, that’s all.” + +He picked up the slim, hollow stick he always carried. “I’m going to +find that murderer,” he said. “A man who could kill a girl like that is +either a fiend or a hideous blunderer. I think it’s the latter. Will you +call the machine?” + +The big automobile was always ready for instant service, day or night, +and ten minutes later they were on their way down town. Beside the +driver, eager-eyed, joyful, was The Fee. Colton had promised to let him +help on the case, and the boy’s cup of happiness was full. The Fee had +but two heroes: Thornley Colton in real life; Nick Carter in his +favourite fiction. + +“We’ll go to police head-quarters first,” decided Colton. “The prisoners +will be there this morning, and I’d like to question Rogers.” Then he +got from Sydney all the details the papers had given of Cartwright’s +murder. + +The Fee found a friendly doorman when they reached police head-quarters +and prepared to have the time of his life. Colton’s card secured them +grudging admittance to the office of the chief of detectives. The chief, +like his men, had all the professional’s scorn for the amateur, but he +knew the blind man, with his wide acquaintance with influential people, +was not a person to antagonize. And the police had found Rogers a +different proposition from the youth whose infatuation had led him to +the dark box and the murder charge. The lawyer was well known, and his +story demanded respect despite the utter impossibility of the thing he +described. Of course, the barman and the waiter had been arrested as +witnesses, but they had not seen the actual shooting. The barman had +been dozing, and the waiter had been busy in a front booth. The shot had +aroused them. + +“Going to give us some more pointers?” asked the chief tolerantly, when +he had shaken hands with Colton and nodded curtly to Sydney. + +“I’d like to look into that double-murder case a bit,” confessed the +problemist, paying no attention to the tone. + +“You mean the two murders committed last night,” corrected the chief +gruntingly. “Nothing to ’em. We’ve got the goods on young Nelson. Twenty +people in the three front rows saw him do it. And Rogers’s fool story is +enough to hang any man.” The real detective’s scorn for the criminal +whose methods are crude came to his voice. “He might have got away with +a suicide story--Cartwright was all broken up about the girl--but Rogers +swears it wasn’t suicide, because the manager’s hands were not near the +pistol when it was fired. He says Cartwright’s look was one of horror, +as if he’d seen his end coming, and couldn’t get away from it.” + +“He did see his death coming,” put in Colton quietly; “and I think that +during the last instant he lived he realized at whose hand it came.” + +“You think he got wise to Rogers at the end, eh?” guessed the chief. + +“No!” The negative was sharp. “Rogers had no more to do with the murder +than you or I. Cartwright was killed by a man who had been planning the +murder for years; the death of the girl was a terrible mistake.” + +The chief jumped from his chair. “What do you know?” he demanded. + +“Nothing--definitely. With a little help from you I think I can show you +the real murderer.” + +“You can’t show me any murderer but Rogers and Nelson,” snapped the +chief, with an air of finality. “Because you can’t convince me or +anybody else that a man could see what Rogers says he saw. A pistol with +no hand near it. It’s impossible! It’s dam’ foolishness!” He snorted. + +Unconsciously Sydney Thames found himself nodding confirmation. That was +the whole thing: an impossibility. No one had been near Cartwright but +Rogers. The girl had been shot in the back, and no one could have been +behind her but Nelson. This last Sydney knew, and had seen. + +“Let me see the pistols which killed Cartwright and the girl, and I’ll +convince you that the same man murdered both,” offered Colton. + +“Duplicate guns aren’t so rare,” instantly resented the chief. This man +was practically telling him that he didn’t know his business! + +“Those two pistols--and others that may be in the possession of the +murderer--are the only ones of their kind in the world!” + +“Look at ’em, then.” The chief grabbed them from his desk. “They’re a +standard German make, single-shot target pistols, blued steel, with +barrels six inches long, numbered and sold all over Europe.” + +Colton took the two pistols, and Sydney drew his chair closer to see. + +“In the first place,” began the blind man, as his thin, supersensitive +fingers examined one gun, while the other lay on his knees, “murderers +don’t usually have this kind of pistol. They can’t be carried in any +ordinary pocket, and”--his forefinger-tip rested over the shallow slot +near the muzzle--“you never before saw target pistols without front +sights!” + +“Took ’em off so they wouldn’t catch in the pocket,” grunted the chief +knowingly. + +Colton’s lips curved in a smile. “An ingenious theory,” he grunted. +“Have you one to fit the banged-up appearance of these butts?” He held +out the pistol and indicated the nicks and scratches. + +“Been used to hammer nails,” declared the chief, exaggerated weariness +in his voice. “Gun owners use ’em that way sometimes, like a woman uses +a hairbrush. Nothing to that.” + +“Yes there is! No gun owner in the world ever drove a nail by holding a +gun vertically, hand on the barrel, and pounding it up and down like a +pile driver! See, the hard usage doesn’t show on the bottom of the butt, +as it would have done had the pistol been swung as a hammer. The dents +and scratches are all on the outside edge!” + +The chief took the extended gun. The sarcastic smile on his lips faded +as he tried the two ways of holding it. The blind man was right! No +driving of nails could have made nicks and scratches where they were on +this pistol! “What’s that got to do with the murder?” he growled. + +“Everything,” answered the problemist shortly. He took the other pistol +on his palm. “Didn’t it strike you that these were two finely balanced +pistols, even for target use?” Before the chief could reply Colton shot +another inquiry: “Didn’t you wonder at the fact that both triggers had +been filed to a hair so that the slightest jar would cause the hammer to +fall? See!” He cocked the pistol and jammed the muzzle against the +chief’s desk. The hammer choked down sharply. He tried it again, this +time jamming the butt down on a chair arm. Once more the hammer snapped +on the empty chamber. + +The chief’s jaw dropped. “That’s how those nicks were made!” he +ejaculated, shocked from his supercilious attitude. The lightning-like +questions, the proving of fact after fact by Colton, had disconcerted +him. In ten minutes the man who was sightless had shown him details that +neither his keen eyes nor the eyes of his hundred men had seen, and +Colton had made of those details startling, vivid possibilities. + +“May I speak to Mr. Rogers?” Colton asked the question quietly, simply, +but under his voice was a subtle note that was dominantly compelling; a +note that had made bigger and stronger men than the chief of the New +York detective bureau bow to his wishes. + +“That’s all very interesting stuff,” began the chief pompously, “but +Rogers is the man who shot Cartwright, and we know that Cartwright held +a dozen thousand dollars’s worth of his paper.” + +The door opened to admit an attaché, and Sydney hid a grin with his +hand. He had seen the chief press the call button even before he began +to speak. + +“Bring Rogers here,” grunted the head of the detective bureau. + +The lawyer came in a moment later, and the two men who accompanied him +were curtly ordered out. The strong face of the prisoner was marred by +lines indicating loss of sleep; his lips were shut grimly, a scowl +creased his forehead, his eyes, sharp and piercing, were fixed on the +chief. + +“This is Mr. Colton, Rogers,” introduced the detective shortly. “He’s +got a sort of a theory on the Cartwright murder.” + +“If it’s the right one he’ll save you a lot of trouble,” snapped the +lawyer ungraciously. He turned to Colton. “I’ve heard of your work on +the Villers case.” His tone was almost amiable; then into it came dull +wonder. “But that was simplicity itself beside this. I saw that revolver +before the shot was fired, unsupported by human hands, against Jim +Cartwright’s shirt front. It must have flown there on invisible wings!” + +The chief grunted sarcastically, as he had grunted at each repetition of +that unvarying statement. + +Thornley Colton, tapping his foot lightly with his thin stick, looked +up. “That is just what it did do!” he said. The three men stared +blankly. The blind man continued: “According to the newspapers, Mr. +Rogers, you said that something caused you to jerk up your head in time +to see that picture. Do you know what it was?” + +“I do not.” Rogers shook his head. “I can only describe it as some inner +impulse.” + +“Wasn’t it”--Thornley Colton’s tone was impressive--“wasn’t it a shadow, +a swift-passing shadow, your eyes saw on the floor?” + +Rogers leaped to his feet. “By Heaven, it was!” he shouted. “I remember +now!” His voice trembled with excitement. “I had lowered my head, and +across the streak of light between the seat edge and table flew a +shadow--like a bird passing overhead.” He stopped suddenly, the +bewildered look on his face telling the sudden realization of his words. +“How could you know that?” he burst out. + +“The human brain is a curious thing,” explained the blind man slowly. +“It unconsciously records impressions the eyes give, but they are +instantly forgotten--because the giving is so automatic--until something +recalls them. Without sight I have been compelled to figure all things +in my brain. Even the steps that you take without seeing must be +mentally visualized by me. I knew it _must_ have been a shadow that +caused you to look up. To you it was merely one of the thousand +unconscious-conscious things your eyes see during the day which are +locked up in the brain until some outside influence brings them back.” + +“You can solve this thing!” Rogers shot out the words as if he had just +made a wonderful discovery. The blind man’s conscious power in himself +had won the confidence of the lawyer; made him realize that there was +some logical explanation for the thing which his eyes had seen, and +which his reason refused to accept. He forgot that he was a prisoner +formally charged with murder, he paced the room nervously. And the +chief, scowling down at his desk, was silent. “If you can find the man +who killed Jim Cartwright!” The excitement died from Roger’s voice, a +new tone came. “I knew him for thirty years, yet I never knew him until +last night!” + +“I want to bring to justice the man that could kill a girl whose soul +held the music of Miss Reynolds’s.” There was unconscious rebuke in the +problemist’s voice. All his powers he had brought to avenge the innocent +girl; but he knew his efforts must be concentrated on the Cartwright +murder because that was the key, the only key that would lead to the +murderer. + +“The love-crazed kid did that! He----” Rogers stopped, his eyes saw the +two pistols side by side on the commissioner’s desk. Instantly his keen +brain recognised the significance. “They’re the same!” he exclaimed. + +“What were Cartwright’s relations with Miss Reynolds?” It was a command, +as Colton put it. Rogers lifted his eyes from the two pistols. + +“You wrong Jim Cartwright,” he said quietly. “You’ve accepted the +general opinion of him; the opinion he never cared enough about to +refute. He wasn’t an angel, but he wasn’t the devil a thousand +jealousies have painted him. I’m going to tell you the story he told me +last night.” And he did, with all the deep feeling of his friendship, +splendidly, simply. + +As the men listened they understood the tragedy of Cartwright’s love for +the woman who had been killed in the first moments of her new-found +happiness--and his; of the little girl he had taken from her dead +mother’s arms to work for, to protect, to give the happiness the mother +had been denied--only to see her foully murdered when her cup of joy had +but just been filled. The fiendishness of it held them spell-bound. The +two beings that Cartwright had loved had been snatched from him, and he +had been killed, knowing in the last instant of his life that the real +murderer of the girl was not even suspected, could not be suspected, +because of the devilish ingenuity of his crime. + +“Kelly, the drunken magician, is the man who killed Cartwright!” +ejaculated the chief. + +Rogers was startled for a moment, but Colton, with an inscrutable smile +on his thin lips, put a question: + +“The father of the girl is dead, isn’t he?” + +Rogers glanced at the blind man in surprise. “Yes,” he admitted. “He +died in the alcoholic ward of a Chicago hospital three months after his +wife was killed. He was buried in the potters’ field.” + +“Where did you find that out?” scowlingly demanded the chief. + +“That I didn’t proves the fact,” answered the blind man crisply. “If +Cartwright hadn’t known he was dead you’d have heard of him before. Do +you want me to go on?” he asked. + +“Might as well,” granted the chief. “Maybe this is your lucky day.” + +“Then I’d like to ask a few questions of the boy who was arrested as +Miss Reynolds’s murderer.” + +The chief gave the order, but there was a light of triumphant +anticipation in his eyes as he waited. Unlike the murderer of +Cartwright, there was nothing mysterious in the killing of the girl, +despite the clever efforts of the blind man to prove differently. A +score of persons had seen the flash of the pistol from the rear of the +box. His men had examined the velvet-hung wall toward which the girl’s +back had been, and there was not a break in it, not a crack. + +When the boy--he was little more--was led in by two detectives there +came a look of pity to the faces of Sydney and Rogers. He staggered to a +chair when the men released his arms. His lips were purple and torn +where Cartwright had beaten him to the floor the night before. A +haunting look of terror was in his eyes; his face was pasty white. + +“I didn’t do it! I didn’t! I didn’t!” he whispered hoarsely, when he had +wet his dry lips to make even the whisper possible. + +Colton put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I know you didn’t,” he said, +and there was a world of sympathy in his voice. A new look came to the +boy’s eyes, a trembling hand sought that of the blind man. + +“I loved her and she loved me,” he said chokingly. “We were going to be +married--but that Cartwright----” Shrill vehemence came to the tone, and +he stopped. + +Colton’s hand quieted him. “Listen closely now, Mr. Nelson, and tell me +if this is what happened: You groped your way to the box with your right +hand on the wall. You felt the black velvet hangings, stopped, and the +pistol went off while your right hand was stretched above you, on the +hangings, and you were facing the door that led back off the stage.” + +“I remember that!” interjected Sydney. “His left side was towards +Cartwright and the girl!” + +“Yet you said that the pistol flash crossed his body.” + +“It did!” broke in the boy. “It was not twelve inches ahead of me! My +right foot was extended to take another step, and the pistol fell on my +toe!” + +Colton turned to the three listening men. “To have fired that shot he +would have had to double his left arm behind him and have shot around +his body--a physical impossibility, even with a long-barrelled pistol.” +He placed his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder once more. “Go outside +to the men who brought you in,” he said. “You will be free in a few +hours.” + +Silently the boy obeyed. When Colton faced them again there was a +curious expression on his face; the expression of a man who has seen a +thoughtless boy destroy a priceless work of art by his clumsiness. + +“He killed that girl as surely as if he had placed the pistol at her +back,” he said sadly. “Yet he is as innocent of her murder as a child +unborn!” + +Eager questions, demands for an explanation of that cryptic remark, were +fairly hurled at the blind man by the excited Rogers. What did he mean? +How could the boy have killed Miss Reynolds and not be guilty of her +murder? How had she been killed? By whom? Sydney Thames forbore the +questions he knew would not be answered. The chief scowled down at the +two pistols, silent, thoughtful. Colton’s statement regarding the firing +of the pistol across the boy’s body had struck him like a dash of cold +water. It was true! The boy could not have fired the shot that killed +the girl! Once more the blind man’s unerring instinct for truth had torn +down the case he and his men had been building for hours. In less than +five minutes the sightless problemist had proved a fact that twenty +pairs of eyes had failed to see. + +“Where are the two men who were arrested in the rathskeller?” asked +Colton curtly, utterly ignoring the questions. + +“Bailed by their boss,” answered the chief. “They can only establish +details anyway.” + +“I want to interview at least one of them,” declared Colton. “I also +want to visit the rathskeller. Can Mr. Rogers go, in your company, of +course?” + +“Yes.” The chief took the responsibility unhesitatingly. He realized +that he must see the thing through now. + +“Is your machine down here? I want to send my boy on an errand with +mine.” + +“Outside, waiting.” The chief took his hat and coat from the tree. “I’ll +go with Rogers while he gets his,” he added, as he opened the door. + +The blind man hurried out, feet unerringly retracing the steps his brain +had registered when they entered. The red-haired boy ran from the group +of detectives he had been entertaining. + +“Shrimp!” The blind man used the name he always called the boy, and took +him aside. He whispered instructions, thrust two or three bills into the +other’s hand. The youngster darted for the machine, and jumped up beside +the driver as the chief and Rogers came from the front door. + +In silence the quartet climbed into the car; in silence they made the +journey to the rathskeller, where James Cartwright had been shot a few +hours before. The waiter who had been on duty early in the morning was +again on hand, heavy-eyed. The barman was at his home. + +“Where’s the booth you occupied?” asked Colton of Rogers, when the chief +had established their identity with the nervous proprietor. + +The lawyer went to it, stopped at the table, and stared down at the dark +stain that could not be removed. + +“This is where we were,” he said huskily. + +Colton stepped in between the table and the seat edge, and sat down, +facing the rear of the rathskeller. “Cartwright was seated at the end of +the seat, like this?” He illustrated. + +Rogers nodded. “He was on the extreme end, so he could assure himself +that no one would hear.” + +Colton rose, and with only the slim stick to guide him, made his way to +a booth that faced the front of the rathskeller, at right angles to the +one where the watching men still stood. + +“Who was in this booth when Cartwright was shot?” It was snapped out +like the crack of a whip to the waiter. + +“No-body,” faltered the serving man, wincing under the battery of eyes. + +“There was!” The voice held accusation. “A man was in this booth, and he +entered a moment or so before Mr. Rogers and Mr. Cartwright!” + +The waiter brushed his dry lips with the back of his hand. “He couldn’t +have had nothin’ to do with it,” he mumbled, fingers twisting and +untwisting the napkin in his hands. + +“No one said he did!” said the blind man sharply. “You’ve been a witness +in a murder case before, haven’t you?” + +The watching men saw a look of alarm come to the man’s eyes. The chief +stepped toward him menacingly. “Yes, sir,” muttered the waiter, +shrinking. “I saw a man shot while I was at the Royal. The police kept +me in the detention for three months, and I lost my job.” + +There was a grim smile on Colton’s lips as he nodded understandingly. +“You weren’t going to take a chance on that again, were you?” His tone +was less brusque. “I’ll assure you that you won’t be held a minute if +you give me a description of the man.” + +The chief opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. + +“Then I’ll tell you,” consented the waiter eagerly. “He was a good-sized +guy, with a yellow, old-lookin’ face, bald-headed, with a scar on the +top, and he had eyes that was like slits. He came in that door.” He +pointed to one that opened at the rear corner of the rathskeller, +apparently on a side street. “He was so drunk he couldn’t hardly walk, +and he almost fell into the seat. I was goin’ to put him out, we closed +in half an hour, an’ I didn’t want to have to throw no drunks in the +street. But he wanted a whisky and----” The waiter flushed and stopped. + +“Go on,” prodded Colton. + +The waiter looked at the proprietor and gulped nervously. “He gave me a +five-spot, an’ told me to keep the change. I was bringin’ the drink when +the other two came in. I got theirs, and went up front to figger my +checks. Then I heard the shot. When I thought of the drunk again he was +gone. But he couldn’t ’a’ done nothin’. He had a horrible bun, an’ we +seen the gun layin’ in front of this guy.” He indicated Rogers. “Me an’ +the bartender figgered we wouldn’t say nothin’ about him. If we did the +police ’ld put us in the detention till they found him. His gettin’ out +like that would ’a’ looked suspicious to them if it didn’t to nobody +else. He was scared sober an’ beat it quick. That’s my idear.” + +“Probably he’d had an experience in the house of detention, too,” +declared the blind man dryly; then: “You never saw him before?” + +“No, sir.” + +“That’s all. Let’s go, chief. There’s a detail I want to clear up at the +theatre. I’ve got to prove that girl’s murder.” Again there was the +ominous ring in the problemist’s voice. + +The chief glowered at the waiter. “You stay right here till I want you,” +he warned. “If you try to beat it you go up the river.” He turned to +Colton. “Wait a minute, until I call up headquarters. I’ll give ’em the +description of that drunk, and have every man in the city on his trail.” + +“And spend a week following up clues,” snapped the blind man +impatiently. “I’ll show you where he is in less than an hour!” + +He paid no further attention to the gaping chief of detectives, but made +his way out of the place, the silent Sydney Thames at his elbow, the +latter’s coat sleeve lightly touching that of Thornley Colton. And the +chief followed meekly. + +The blind man climbed into the front seat with the driver, and Sydney +realized that he wanted to avoid interrogation; to figure out the last +steps alone. But in the tonneau the men could not resist voicing the +questions that filled their minds. Who had killed Miss Reynolds, and +what could have been the object of the murder? What connection could a +drunken man have with the murder of Cartwright; with a pistol that had +been fired without the aid of human hands? + +They were at the theatre. The box-office had just been opened for the +day, and the manager took them into the darkened house. The big +interior, dim and tomblike, sent a shudder through Sydney Thames. Last +night there had been brilliant lights, happy men, laughing women--and +the girl of the violin. To-day the great stage gaped before them, huge, +untenanted; the seats were covered with their white dust cloths; voices +sounded eerie in the barnlike emptiness. The velvet hangings at the rear +of the box, which had looked so striking with their sleek blackness the +night before, now appeared worn and dusty. The overturned chairs had +been righted, the blood-stained carpet had been replaced. + +Thornley Colton’s thin stick located the chairs. His right hand groped +along the wall, so that the velvet moved under it. He thrust his slim +cane under his arm, and the wonderful fingers went over the velvet inch +by inch, sometimes so strongly that the thick stuff moved under them, +then the pressure was so light that not a quiver of the loose velvet +betrayed their presence. Inch by inch the feeling fingers made their +way, as the men watched breathlessly. Rogers could stand it no longer. + +“Was the murderer concealed behind those hangings?” he asked excitedly. + +“No,” Colton answered him, without moving. “The pistol flash came from +this side of the velvet.” + +Silence came again. The slow-moving fingers stopped. The blind man +looked up; then his doubly keen ears caught the sound of hurrying +footsteps coming toward them down the aisle. + +“A telephone message for me?” he asked, as the attaché stopped. + +“Mr. Colton?” + +“Yes.” He turned to the others. “Come! I think this is the last detail.” + +They were at his heels as he entered the boxlike office. Tense, +expectant, though they knew not for what, they listened to the one-sided +conversation. + +“Yes. Good. Did you see him? No, that’s all right. Stay there until we +come.” He spoke an aside to the ticket-seller: “Will you please take +this address for me?” The man picked up his pencil and drew a small pad +toward him. “Nine hundred and ninety-seven West Forty-fourth.” The blind +man hung up the receiver. + +“What is it?” The question was chorused by the excited men. + +“The address of the man who murdered Cartwright and Miss Reynolds!” + + + IV. + +Before the gasps of amazement, the ejaculations of incredulity could +become coherent questions, Thornley Colton had turned and made his way +from the office, light stick dangling idly from his fingers. Dazedly +they followed him from the theatre and into the waiting automobile. He +had located the murderer of Cartwright and the girl! They were dumb with +the wonder of it. Swiftly, unerringly, the blind man had found the +murderer whose very being they had not suspected a short time before. To +the men who had followed every step of the problemist, who had seen +things that he could not see, the finding seemed magic comparable only +to the magic of the pistol that had apparently flown from the air to +deal its death. There was a new expression on the face of the chief of +detectives now. The scowl was gone; the sarcastic curve of lips had +vanished. In their place had come wonder, tinged with awe toward the man +who had builded a wonderful structure of truth from the pieces he and +his hundred men had either discarded or had not seen. + +The car turned into Forty-fourth, passed the brownstone houses where +every door bore its sign: “Table Board. Furnished Rooms.” A red-headed +boy ran out into the street, and the chauffeur slowed up. + +“It’s t’ree houses down, Mr. Colton.” The Fee’s voice fairly trembled +with excitement. “He’s on the top floor. Kin I go with yuh?” + +Colton nodded and stepped down from the machine. “We’ll walk the rest of +the way,” he told them. He started, the bright-eyed boy at his elbow. + +They mounted the steps of a brownstone house, and Colton rang the bell. +A frowsy-haired lady in a grease-spotted kimono opened the door. The +smell of cooking onions assailed their nostrils; somewhere within a +piano banged out a ragtime tune; a raucous voice screeched: “I call her +Little Hy’cinth, but her name’s M‘Swigg;” from the depths of the house a +squeaky clarinet piped off-key opera. + +“Profesh’n?” snapped the lady of the kimono suspiciously before any one +had a chance to speak. + +“We want to see Signor Delvetoi,” said the blind man quietly. + +Sydney Thames never remembered the short colloquy that followed; never +recollected just how they entered the house. Signor Delvetoi! That name +drove everything else from his mind. Once more he saw the black-clothed, +black-bearded man at the theatre; again he saw the whirling knives +flashing from the darkness into the beam of the calcium to bury their +points beside the woman of the golden frame; once more came to his mind +the wonderful skill that had directed those keen-pointed knives toward +their target of living flesh--to brush a cheek and not even scratch it. + +Then he found himself following the others up the narrow stairs. In the +second floor hall-way a fat, greasy-faced woman murmured husky +endearments to a monkey in her arms, while a goose waddled at her side. +A dozen discordant tunes came from the closed rooms. This was the place +they had come to arrest a murderer! + +On the third floor Thornley Colton stopped and knocked on a door panel. +Thames could feel the tenseness of the men’s bodies as they crowded up +close to the door as it slowly opened. Standing before them, framed in +the light that came into the hallway from the room, stood a big man in a +stained red bath-robe that trailed the floor behind the worn +carpet-slippers. His head was bald, and across the skull ran a livid +scar; his face was a deep-lined, jaundiced yellow. + +“We want you for the murder of Cartwright and the girl at the theatre.” +That was all Colton said, and his voice was low. + +For an instant the face of the man went a fish-belly white; then +murderous red rage leaped to the cheeks, and darted from the slit eyes. + +“You devils!” he shrieked. + +The red robe was flung back; but with a movement as quick as light +itself Colton’s hand darted out, closed with a grip of steel on a wrist, +and the red robe whirled as the man spun to his knees. + +“Better handcuff him,” advised the blind man quietly, as he pushed aside +the fallen knife with the thin cane that had warned him of the murderous +movement. The handcuffs clicked on the knife-thrower’s wrists as the +chief dragged him to a chair. + +“So you’re the one, eh?” The detective chief tried to make his tone +casual, but he could not keep the wonder from his eyes, or voice. + +“Oh, you got me right,” sneered the knife-thrower. + +“How did you do it?” put in Rogers dazedly. The picture he had seen the +night before was still in his mind. + +A cunning light leaped to the half-closed eyes of the red-robed man. +“D’you want to hear the whole thing?” he asked. “You might as well,” he +boasted. “I’ll never swing for it.” + +“Go ahead,” growled the chief, drawing his chair up closer and placing +his revolver on his knees. The knife-thrower grinned sneeringly. + +“Well,” he began, and his evil eyes seemed to gloat at them. “I’m the +only man in the world that could have pulled the trick. It took years of +practice to get it down pat, but there’s Indian blood in me, mixed with +the Irish. They don’t know much about me in this country, and I didn’t +want them to, till I got Jim Cartwright. But in Europe I’m the best in +the business, and I’m the only one that could ever plant five knives in +a spot the size of a half dollar at thirty feet, and do it on the +level.” + +There was boasting in the tone, but to Sydney Thames, who had seen his +amazing work of the night before, it was not idle boasting. + +“The story of why I killed Cartwright is the same old game: I had a +woman and he took her. She wasn’t much good, only a doll-faced fool, and +there was a squalling kid that got on my nerves; but she was mine, body +and soul.” The listening men gritted their teeth at the tone, and he +sneered at them for it. “Cartwright took her, and I went after them +both. I had a little money, I was headin’ the olio in a burlesque. +Before I started I went in a place along the river front in Chicago, +where I was. I musta showed my roll, because--now I don’t expect you to +believe what’s comin’, and I don’t give a damn whether you do or not!” +There was sullen defiance in the voice. “But I woke up in a hospital I +never saw before, and the nurse talked German! It was in Berlin, and it +was ten years after! Oh, it wasn’t anything new, the doctors told me. +One of the Windy City thugs had lead-piped me for my roll; you can see +the scar I got. Something cracked in my head then, and when I woke I’d +just been in a German train smash-up. The doctors said the bump I got +there straightened me out. + +“I remembered everything after a while. I was doin’ a knife-throwin’ +act. Some wop had picked me up when I didn’t know my own name, and +brought me to Europe with him. Somehow the kink had kept me off the +booze, and I was even better than him, and he was the best in the world, +bar none. He died a few months after I got out, and I copped his layout. +We’d been rehearsin’ a stunt that was going to make ’em all sit up. The +Flyin’ Death, we called it, and we threw pistols instead of knives. We +had a blank board at one end of the stage, and a target at the other. +We’d stand in the centre, let it fly at the blank board, duck, and the +butt striking would jar down the trigger, and the bullet’d go over our +heads and hit the bull’s-eye three times out of five. It was big stuff! +But I wasn’t satisfied, because I wanted to hit the bull’s-eye every +time. I was goin’ to play that act fer one man; the one that stole my +wife and ten years out of my life. So I put in two more years on the +Continent, still practisin’. If you looked at the nicks in the +pistol-butts you can see how many times they’d been used. + +“When I got so I couldn’t go wrong I came to the States. I learned I was +dead--one of the thugs that got my coin and papers, I guess. But that +suited me right down to the ground. I found Cartwright was the big +cheese in the business, but I couldn’t find the wife, or the kid. I +wanted to get them, too; ten years don’t make no difference to me.” +Again came the sneer to the evil, yellow face, as his eyes caught their +looks of horror and disgust. “I spent a year touring here before I could +book Cartwright’s house. I wanted to get him right before everybody’s +eyes. That’s why I had that dark act. He was up to the rehearsal in the +mornin’ with a kid that looked something like the woman he stole, but it +wasn’t my kid, because he made it plain he was only her manager. You can +bet he’d a showed it if he had claims. I heard him make a date for the +box after her act, and that looked good to me, because I’d get him right +beside her. + +“Under the knives for the spotlight act was the pistol with a real +cartridge, of course. I only used minichure ones with a pinch of powder +for the act. The guns was balanced special in Germany, and the front +sights was off the barrels so they could slide out of my hand. I could +see the white of the girl’s waist and his shirt between every +knife-throw, because I waited a few seconds each time to get ’em right. +Then, when I knew I couldn’t make a mistake, I let the gun fly. I was +goin’ to have the butt hit the wall in back of him, and bullet catch him +between the shoulders. It was easy, because I was above him on the +stage, and I thought there couldn’t be any suspicion because I was in +front of him, and he’d be shot in the back. But that darn’ fool kid,” he +spat out snarlingly, “had to have his hands on the hanging just when the +gun hit, and throw it off enough to kill the girl.” + +Sydney Thames gasped audibly. + +“It wasn’t my fault she was in the way, but a little thing like that +wasn’t going to keep me from gettin’ the man I wanted. I got another of +the guns out of my prop trunk and went after him. I couldn’t get him +right until I heard the other feller arguin’ with him in front of the +rathskeller. I ducked around to the side-door. I’d been in there before, +but I’d had my black stage-whiskers and wig on, and the waiter didn’t +know me. I played drunk, and gave the waiter a five-spot for a drink, +and told him not to turn on the booth-light. + +“Cartwright faced my booth, but I was in the dark. They started to +whisper. The waiter was out of sight, and the bartender was sleepin’. I +had the gun ready for five minutes. This man bent down--and I let her +fly. There wasn’t going to be any mistake this time, because I was going +to put another half turn on the gun and make it jam its muzzle against +his heart. No chance of missin’ that way! And he saw the gun comin’ when +it was too late to dodge! And he knew me then! And the last thing he +ever saw was me grinnin’ at him! It was a cinch to slope out in the +excitement after.” + +There was silence in the room when he had finished. From beyond the +closed door came the discordant medley of the tinny piano, the +screeching clarinet, the hoarse-voiced singers. Before them a manacled +man, with sneers in his voice, and boasts, and snarls, had just told +them of the man whose death he had accomplished with such fiendish +cunning; of the innocent girl whose life he had destroyed. + +“Do you mean to say that you could fling those pistols as accurately as +all that?” demanded the chief, who was a policeman, first, last, and all +the time. The case, to him, had ceased to be one of human emotions, of +sorrow and tragedy; it was a matter of proof, of conviction. Such is the +policeman’s philosophy of life--and death. + +“Do you want me to prove it?” taunted the murderer. “There’s the other +pistol for the act on the bureau. It ain’t loaded. Get it and I’ll show +you.” + +“Better take his word,” suggested Colton warningly. + +“I’ll see that he plays no tricks,” boasted the chief. It was his case +now. He got the pistol from the bureau. “I’ll take one cuff off, and +I’ll have this gun on you every second!” he snapped. + +The knife-thrower leered at him with his bloodless lips, and the slit +eyes shone with an exultant gleam. He took a stubby pencil from his +bath-robe pocket and drew a small circle on the blank wall. He walked to +the other end of the room, the chief watching him like a hawk. The +pistol dangled from the man’s hand as he turned. A snap of the arm, and +it became a flying whirl of blue. The muzzle struck the exact centre of +the small circle, the hammer snapped down, and for an instant the gun +seemed suspended against the wall before it jangled to the floor. + +“God! That’s what I saw last night!” choked Rogers. + +The knife-thrower picked up the pistol. “It’s just as easy to make the +butt strike first, with the muzzle pointed at me, as it should have +pointed at Cartwright’s back last night.” + +The commissioner watched every move as he walked to the end of the room. + +Suddenly Colton’s voice rang out: + +“_Don’t let him throw that pistol!_” + +The chief jumped from his chair as the red arm swung. + +A line of fire leaped from the blank wall toward the scarlet-robed +figure across the room. The explosion echoed and re-echoed in the room. +The pistol clattered on the bare boards under the small circle it had +struck so unerringly. On the butt were flakes of the white plaster where +it had been driven into the wall. The red robe seemed slowly to crumple +as the knife-thrower sank to the floor; and as they ran to where he lay, +the lips twisted in an evil leer of triumph, the slit eyes gleamed their +gloating. + +“I told you I’d never swing for it!” he sneered up at them. “Palming +that cartridge was easy. I used to be a magician--when my name +was--Kelly!” + + + V. + +“Yes, Sydney, he paid the price the State puts on murder, and I guess it +is just as well.” A fleeting smile crossed Colton’s thin lips for an +instant. “But the chief is naturally angry that such a spectacular +murderer should escape his clutches so easily. My keen ears caught the +click of the breech as he put in the cartridge. But I was too late; he +had waited until the last second.” + +The two men were in the library of the old-fashioned house, where the +blind man had come to spend his regular afternoon four hours in darkness +that meant insurance against the splitting headaches too-long-continued +light on his sensitive, sightless eyes always caused. The knife-thrower +had lived but a few minutes, for his skill had not failed him, and the +bullet had pierced one of his lungs. Rogers had gone to arrange for the +funerals of Cartwright and the daughter he had loved. They were to be +side by side in death, and the story would go to their graves. On that +the men had agreed in the big bare room where the last act of the +tragedy had been played. + +“How did you ever connect the knife-thrower with the murders?” asked +Sydney finally. + +“Your story of the shooting in the box, as you told it to me while we +were waiting for the panic to cease in the theatre, gave me the first +clue,” explained the blind man thoughtfully. “The fact that you saw the +face of Nelson so plainly told me that the flash must have crossed his +body, and, in groping his way in the darkness, his right hand must have +been on the hangings. Shrimp’s enthusiastic description of the +knife-thrower’s act told me how wonderful it was, and--he was the +possibility. + +“Then the murder of Cartwright was the proof needed. There could be no +explanation but that of a thrown pistol for the thing Rogers saw. And +the two pistols being identical was the last link. But no one would +believe the theory without irrefutable proof. That I got, first by the +nicked-up butts of the guns, showing how long they had been used in +practice. Then Rogers’s story of Cartwright told me the guilty person. +But then came the necessity of explaining where he had been all the +years. I sent Shrimp to the stage-entrance to get the knife-thrower’s +address and locate him. He did, and, being a boy, he aroused not the +slightest suspicion when he made an inquiry at the house. I knew also +that at least one of the two employees of the rathskeller must have +known another man had been on hand when the murder was committed. I had +to go there to see why they had withheld the information from the +police. The explanation was logical enough, but the police would never +have seen it. Then I had to go to the theatre and find the place where +the butt of the gun had struck on the wall. The finding was more of a +job than I thought. In his excitement the boy must have moved the +hangings a foot, for the scar in the velvet was a foot lower than I +should have found it. And you must remember that it was a scar that no +eye could have seen, one that could only be found with a microscope, or +supersensitive finger-tips like mine. Then came the message from Shrimp, +whom I had told to call me up either at the rathskeller or the theatre.” + +Silence came in the darkened room. When Thornley Colton spoke again his +voice was low, solemn, its tone one of reverent wonder. “The death of +that girl is one of the higher mysteries, Sydney. Was she murdered +because of a terrible mistake, or did a merciful Providence send a +thoughtless, foolish boy to grope in the darkness at just the right +instant to deflect that pistol, and send the bullet into her back? She +died in the happiest moment of her life; joy was in her heart and on her +lips. If the pistol had not been turned by the moving velvet, Cartwright +would have died. Her whole story would have had to come out then; she +would have heard it bandied by unclean lips on the street-corners; to +know that her father, the father who did not even recognize her, was a +murderer. A merciful Providence? I’ll always wonder, Sydney.” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + THE FIFTH PROBLEM + + THE THOUSAND FACETS OF FIRE + + + I. + +Outside was the hurry and bustle of the busy avenue; inside was the +quietness and calm that characterised the house of Osmuhn & Son, +jewellers and dealers in articles of vertu. The Heppelwhite chairs were +carefully placed before each velvet square on the crystal cases that +extended the length of the shop on both sides. In rows of expert array +on the shelves and in the cabinets on the velvet-carpeted floor were +rich European and Oriental porcelains: Faïence and cloisonné; rare +pieces of Limoges, Satsuma, Arita, and Ninsei; lacquer ware of Kajikawa, +Ritsuo, and Korin. The salesmen, soft-footed, soft-voiced, appeared +merely indolent to the casual observer, but to one who could look +beneath the surface of things, they gave the impression of being alertly +on guard against a hidden something. + +A limousine stopped before the door. The woman who alighted was +beautiful; the girl who followed her was wonderful--the type that makes +men putty and women envious. The uniformed attendant opened the door, +they stepped inside. If those two women had crossed the threshold of any +other shop on the avenue, there would have been a noticeable flurry of +excitement instantly. But not a clerk in the shop showed more than +courteous readiness. Osmuhn’s customers were all of the same type: the +richest, the most cultured, the most exclusive persons in New York. A +diamond ceased to be merely a diamond when it had been sold by Osmuhn. +It became a gem with the reputation of the seller behind it; a flawless, +matchless carbon. So it was with anything else one bought from Osmuhn & +Son. + +But if the clerks showed no particular interest, the same could not be +said of the light-haired, blue-eyed young man who had been talking with +two others at the end of a long glass case. A smile of welcome came to +his lips as he hurried forward, hand outstretched. + +“Mrs. Marle!” he exclaimed. “And Helen!” + +His two hands met theirs in more than friendly clasp; the left to the +woman, the right to the girl. Only one man in the shop could not see the +light in the man’s eyes as he looked at the girl; but that one had +recognised love in the man’s voice. + +“You knew I’d be here, didn’t you, Mr. Osmuhn?” laughed the woman +rippingly. + +“The ruby.” It was not a question, just a smiling statement. + +“Could mother ever resist a wonderful jewel?” put in the girl. + +“It hasn’t been taken out of the private safe since you +saw it before, three months ago,” said the younger Osmuhn. +“Five-hundred-thousand-dollar rubies aren’t the playthings of the +average gem-buyer.” + +“Respect my weakness, please,” pouted the woman in mock pleading; then +her eyes saw for the first time one of the men young Osmuhn had just +left, and they lighted with pleasure. + +“I must speak to Mr. Colton,” she said, and she hurried to where he was +standing. The girl and the man followed slowly, talking in earnest +undertones. + +Thornley Colton’s pale face lighted with pleasure as he took her hand, +and his thin, expressive lips smiled their glad welcome. Only the eyes +behind the great, round lenses of the smoked, tortoise-rimmed library +glasses did not change. His slim stick, apparently of ebony, hung +lightly from the tapering fingers of his left hand, as did the hat which +a moment before had covered the snow-white hair that curled from the +pink scalp. + +“Now tell me where you’ve been keeping yourself!” the woman demanded +severely. “No evasion! We haven’t seen you since that wonderful thing +you did for the Jimmy Raeltons. It _was_ wonderful!” she added +earnestly. + +“Thank you,” Colton said simply. There was no mock modesty; only quiet +sincerity in his rich deep voice. + +“But you didn’t answer my questions,” she smiled. She turned to the +apple-cheeked, black-haired man who had stood silent. “Can you answer +them for him, Mr. Thames?” + +The black-haired man started nervously as she spoke, for he had been +paying attention only to the beautiful girl with Osmuhn. Mrs. Marle +repeated the question before he had time to stammer the apology she saw +trembling on his lips. + +“I am merely Mr. Colton’s secretary.” He said it a trifle stiffly, and +she understood that his hypersensitive nature resented her intuitive +understanding. + +“I don’t like gaiety,” put in Colton quickly. “A quiet chat is my +greatest pleasure. Crowds confuse me, and make my eyes nervous.” He laid +his hand fondly on the other man’s shoulder, and to her eyes came +womanly sympathy. She knew what Thornley Colton meant. He was blind, and +the red-cheeked man beside him furnished the only eyes he knew. + +“But you’ll come to my reception to-morrow night?” she asked earnestly. +“Only for a few minutes, but _do_ come.” + +“I had intended to,” he smiled. + +“That’s settled,” she nodded. “Now,” she added, with mock pleading in +her voice, “who is to be the happy recipient of your favour this time?” +One gloved hand made a small gesture toward the trays of jewels under +the glass. The blind man, whose years of practice had made him reader of +every inflection, understood instantly, but young Osmuhn came up in time +to answer. + +“Mr. Colton has kindly consented to investigate a small matter for us,” +he said nervously. + +“The necklace robbery you were telling me about?” asked the girl, eyes +shining. + +“Here comes father.” Young Osmuhn’s face was red, his tone guilty. + +Mrs. Marle repressed a smile with difficulty. She had never heard a +whisper of a necklace robbery in the house of Osmuhn & Son. She +understood how carefully the secret must have been guarded, and she +understood also the lack of caution that was part of youth and love. But +she was a wonderfully bright woman, and apparently she had not even +heard her daughter’s remark. All her attention was on the stout little +man with the shiny bald head and the bright eyes that gleamed from under +bushy brows. + +“A great pleasure, Mrs. Marle,” said the elder Osmuhn, as he bowed +gravely. “You have come to see the Thousand Facets of Fire.” + +“To buy it, I think,” she smiled, extending her hand. + +“Ah,” murmured the gem-dealer, in a tone of quiet satisfaction. “I will +show it to you at once. It is in the vault.” Then a troubled light came +to his eyes, as they rested on Thornley Colton and Sydney Thames. Some +subtle fifth sense seemed to tell the blind man the cause instantly. + +“Sydney and I will wait in your office, if you don’t mind,” he put in +quickly. + +Osmuhn’s voice showed his relief. Experience had taught him that there +was much more appreciation when the customer was alone. “My son will +tell you everything,” he said. He looked around to where the other +member of the firm had been standing a moment before; then shrugged his +shoulders in parental helplessness. Osmuhn, junior, was leading Miss +Helen Marle toward the rear of the shop. + +Mrs. Marle laughed. “You would have done the same thing at his age,” she +accused. + +The jeweller shook his head. “I suppose so.” Then, to the blind man: “A +minute only, Mr. Colton,” he apologised. + +“Make it ten,” smiled Colton. “Your son told me practically everything, +and I’d like to have ten minutes or so to think over the facts.” + +Osmuhn turned toward the small, glass-enclosed office at the rear of the +shop, from which he could see everything that went on. The blind man +followed unhesitatingly, superkeen ears noting each footfall of the man +who preceded him. + +“Only a minute,” repeated the seller of jewels again, when the two men +had been made comfortable in the two big chairs by the desk. “Come, Mrs. +Marle.” He seemed to take an unnecessary step or two as he said it, and +only the blind man heard the click of some secret electric connection +releasing the steel door that Osmuhn opened a minute later by a curious +pressure of his fingers on the knob, and a peculiar-looking key. + +Mrs. Cornelius Marle, probably the richest woman in New York, lover of +jewels because they were jewels, and not merely as ornaments, owner of +what was reputed to be the finest collection of rare gems, entered the +innermost citadel of the house of Osmuhn. The steel door shut softly +behind her, and she knew that she was as far removed from the world +outside as though she were a thousand feet underground. She knew that +the tapestry-covered walls of the twelve-foot room were of eighteen-inch +concrete, interlaced with steel rails; that the Winton-carpeted floor +and the panelled ceiling were the same. The steel door behind her was +the only opening in the walls of man-made stone. + +She needed no direction to take a seat at the small Sheraton table +against the wall at the far side of the vault. She had been there +before; each time when Osmuhn had picked up some rare and costly jewel. +The jeweller, with a soft-voiced apology, leaned over her shoulder to +press the pearl-centred black button in the brass wall-plate a foot from +the woman’s elbow. The table light shed its brilliance on the white +velvet table-pad. + +“The Thousand Facets of Fire is the most wonderful ruby I have ever seen +or handled,” declared Osmuhn enthusiastically, as he stepped behind her +to twirl the two combination knobs on the door of the steel safe that +was imbedded in the concrete wall. “Mr. Norvel heard of it when he was +in Europe last year. He negotiated for months, and sent it to me just +ten days before his horrible accident in France.” + +“The accident left him a hopeless cripple, did it not?” she asked +politely, turning in her chair so that she could see the deft fingers at +work with the combination. + +“Yes.” Osmuhn’s voice was sad. “He must walk with canes always.” Then a +note of pride came to his voice. “But he refuses to give up. He is here +every day, and I need him. In the twenty-eight years he has been with me +he has learned everything I know about stones, and to-day he is probably +the greatest living expert on diamonds.” + +The round safe-door swung open, and, with a wholly unconscious flourish, +he placed the big jewel-case before her and snapped back the lid. + +A thousand blood-red flashes of living fire seemed to leap upward, +battling with their myriad sword points against the soft glow of the +electric--then the whole room seemed lighted only by the wonderful ruby +in its velvet case. + +As great music hypnotises, intoxicates to sense-numbing silence, so the +refraction of the ruby’s million rays held the woman spellbound. She +could not speak, nor move; her eyes were held by the lights that danced +and flashed from the thousand facets--now invitingly, now mockingly, but +always sure of their victory. + +Osmuhn’s eyes, under their bushy brows, gleamed brighter--they +understood. At his first sight of the jewel he, too, had known why men +had risked their lives and why women had bartered their souls and bodies +for the Thousand Facets of Fire. + +“Is it not well named?” he asked. + +His words seemed to break the spell that bound her. She nodded as one in +a dream, and put forth her fingers almost timidly to touch the flashing +stone. + +“Take it in your hand, feel the weight of it.” He turned away, walked +the length of the room. When he came back she was holding the ruby on +her palm. The velvet box had been thrust aside, and in her eyes was +almost childish wonder that a thing so full of fire could be so cold. + +With a quiet nod of satisfaction Osmuhn turned away again--it was no +time for words. Mrs. Marle would want to speak in a moment; until +then----. He went behind her, and bent down to the safe, his hands idly +rearranging the small boxes that held the most valuable jewels in his +possession; jewels that were never allowed to go from the +specially-constructed safe in the specially-constructed room, unless his +hands removed them. + +The woman still gazed at the jewel. A wavering streamer of mist seemed +to hover over it for an instant--or was it a picture the jewel had +conjured in her brain? As she watched, immovable, it spread over her +hand, then over the whole table--an impenetrable veil of filmy nothing. +She lifted her unoccupied hand to brush her eyes. + +A gasping noise came from her throat. The man behind her seemed to sense +something wrong in the very sound. He wheeled, the hand that had been on +the safe-door clanged it shut. + +“It’s gone!” she choked. “_Gone!_” + +The mist had vanished as it had come. The hand that never moved; the +hand that had held the ruby was empty! + + + II. + +As the steel door closed behind Osmuhn and Mrs. Marle, Thornley Colton +leaned back in his chair and thoughtfully puffed a cigarette. But Sydney +Thames, the secretary the blind man had picked up twenty-five years +before as a bundle of baby-clothes on the bank of the English river that +had given him his name, could not remain silent. The story young Osmuhn +had been telling them when the Marles had interrupted was not one +calculated to keep the ever-doubting Sydney still. + +“What do you think of that necklace disappearance Osmuhn asked you to +investigate?” he demanded. + +“One of the most interesting problems I’ve been called to solve in a +long time,” answered Colton. A smile of joy curved the thin lips, for a +problem, to the blind man who solved crime-puzzles as his recreation, +was the greatest pleasure he knew. + +“But the thing is utterly impossible!” protested Sydney. “Such a thing +couldn’t have happened in broad daylight and in New York.” + +“As I’ve told you once or twice before, Sydney, the fact remains that it +did happen. And there must be some explanation.” + +Sydney shook his head. “The statement that a man in full possession of +his senses could stare blankly at a two-hundred-thousand-dollar diamond +necklace while it disappeared into a thin mist before his very eyes is a +trifle too strong for me,” he averred stoutly. + +“Do you think young Osmuhn is lying?” smiled Colton. + +“He seems to be absolutely straight,” hesitated Sydney. “But his +story----” The rest was obvious. + +The smile on the blind man’s face broadened. “But consider his frankness +in telling of it, Sydney. If he’d been lying I imagine he’d have +concocted a better story than that. Consider how every detail of the +disappearance is firmly impressed in his mind. The robbery, for that’s +what it was, occurred after closing hours, when all the clerks and other +employees had gone. Only the younger Osmuhn and the diamond-expert for +the firm were on the premises. Norvel, the expert, seeing young Osmuhn +behind the long case in the shop, wanted to show him the completed +diamond necklace that was to be delivered at the Nevin home next day. He +laid it before Osmuhn, and together they examined it for possible flaws. +Norvel placed his cane on the case while he took a cigarette from his +pocket. Finding he had no matches, he limped with the aid of his other +cane to his overcoat, which he had thrown over the back of a chair five +feet or so away. A gasp from Osmuhn caused him to turn, with the +overcoat still on his arm. He saw the other man staring wildly at the +place where, a few minutes before, the diamond necklace had been. Osmuhn +swears that, while Norvel was walking toward his overcoat, a thick mist, +which he describes as not unlike steam, appeared over the necklace, +completely hiding it from his eyes. He confesses that the thing was so +remarkable that for an instant he could do nothing but stare. Then the +mist began to dissolve, and he saw that the necklace had vanished +utterly. His gasp caused Norvel to turn. Norvel hadn’t seen the mist, +for it had entirely disappeared when he had hobbled back to the case. +Together they searched for the missing diamonds without finding a trace. +Also, without leaving one another’s sight for an instant, they +telephoned to the elder Osmuhn, and sat watching one another for their +mutual protection, until he and a private detective came. They submitted +to a thorough search, and took part in the all-night hunt for the jewels +that covered every part of the store and building. Why, the very +impossibility of the story stamps it with truth!” + +“But Norvel was there,” reminded Sydney. + +“He had no possible chance of touching the necklace. He had turned away, +and his back was toward Osmuhn.” + +“But the mist?” persisted Sydney. “That is the impossible part of the +whole thing. How, in Heaven’s name, could there be a mist such as he +describes in a New York jewellery shop? It’s absurd!” + +“Not absurd, Sydney,” corrected the problemist mildly. “Merely the +solution; the solution of the whole thing.” + +The smile went from his face, he leaned forward with a sudden tenseness +of face and body; the delicate nostrils quivered like those of a hound +scenting a new trail. + +“Something’s wrong inside, Sydney!” His sightless eyes were fixed on the +closed, soundproof door, his head was bent forward expectantly. Then he +straightened back in his chair, and was quietly puffing his cigarette +when the door opened, and the elder Osmuhn, white-faced, trembling, +staggered out of the vault-room. + +“It’s gone!” He choked the words just as the woman had choked them a few +minutes before. “The Thousand Facets of Fire has vanished!” + +The blind man had risen at the first word, and before the gem-dealer had +finished speaking he had brushed past him, the thin, hollow stick that +gave its messages to the hypersensitive finger-tips locating the steps +unerringly. + +The sobbing, hysterical woman at the small table did not even look up as +he laid his hand gently on her shoulder, but he felt her body shudder +under the touch, as though her overwrought mind had already pictured +visions of the police. + +“Tell me how it happened, Mrs. Marle.” The words were soft-spoken, +kindly. + +“There is nothing to tell,” she sobbed. “The ruby just--went.” + +“Dissolved into mist?” + +She looked up, sudden, wild hope showing behind the tears in her eyes. +“Would you believe that?” she asked breathlessly. “It seems +so--impossible--I was afraid----.” + +“I know that is how it disappeared,” Thornley Colton said quietly. “Mr. +Osmuhn will tell you that a diamond necklace vanished in the same way +nearly ten days ago.” + +The white-faced jeweller brushed his sweat-beaded forehead with a +shaking hand. “Yes,” he groaned, “that, and this ruby, will bring the +loss to nearly three-quarters of a million. But it couldn’t have +happened!” he declared, almost fiercely. “Mrs. Marle was holding it in +her hand! I wasn’t two feet away. The walls are solid concrete! There +isn’t a crack in them!” Each staccato sentence was jerked out almost +passionately. Osmuhn seemed to be trying to convince himself, as well as +his hearers, that the thing he knew had happened was utterly impossible. + +Colton paid no attention. He spoke to the woman, still quietly, gently, +smoothing his questions so that they became merely statements for which +he wanted confirmation. + +“You knew the ruby was gone, even before your eyes saw the empty hand?” + +Osmuhn and Sydney Thames came closer to the little table. + +“Yes.” She spoke more calmly. “I raised my other hand to brush my +eyes--I thought it was an optical illusion of some kind--then I felt the +stone--go.” + +“How?” + +“I don’t know,” she faltered, looking from one to the other in +bewilderment. “I could see nothing but the thick mist that seemed to +cover the whole table. Then--I suddenly felt my outstretched hand +relieved of the weight. It--seemed to just fly away!” + +“A ruby weighing nearly two hundred carats would make a very good +flyer,” observed the blind man smilingly. Then: “But the mist, wasn’t it +a trick of the lights?” + +She shook her head. “Mist is the only word that describes it. When my +eyes first noticed it, it was a ribbon that widened almost instantly to +hide the whole table, though the light shone above it perfectly. I know +that last unconsciously, for I think the jewel had hypnotised me--I +couldn’t take my eyes away, even when the mist hid it from sight.” + +“Where is the switch for the table-light? Snap it off, Mr. Osmuhn.” + +The jeweller leaned across the table to obey. Colton examined every inch +of the table-light with his fingers. + +“Absolutely nothing there,” he murmured. Then his fingers felt the two +buttons in the brass plate that he had made the jeweller locate for him. +He snapped the light on again, then off, and back. + +“It wasn’t a trick of the light,” he declared emphatically. “Nor of your +eyes, Mrs. Marle.” He stood erect. “Tell your son to come here, Mr. +Osmuhn,” he said quietly. + +The white-faced jeweller almost tottered from the small room. The +instant that Osmuhn’s footsteps told the blind man that he had gone +through the door, Thornley Colton spoke. + +“Mrs. Marle.” His voice was crisp, imperative. “At the instant you first +saw the mist, _was_ it as wide as a ribbon?” + +She answered steadily enough, despite the sudden change in the blind +man’s tone: “Yes, it seemed to stretch over the table lengthways, waving +slightly, as a ribbon would do in a breath of air, but almost instantly +it widened and widened, until it covered the whole table.” There was +only a slight tremor in her voice, but in her eyes was awe, as she spoke +of the inexplicable thing her eyes had seen. + +“Mr. Osmuhn had his back toward you?” + +“Yes.” + +“How do you know that?” + +She smiled wanly up at him, forgetting, as people usually did when +Colton was speaking, that he could see nothing. “I don’t know it because +I saw him,” she replied, “but I _do_ know it because he always turns +toward the small safe back of this chair, and idly arranges the +jewel-cases on the shelves when a customer is examining one of the rare +gems he keeps in this room. He knows the value of silence when a lover +of jewels is looking at a wonderful stone like the Thousand Facets of +Fire.” + +Colton smiled understanding; then wheeled to face the door as Osmuhn +entered, followed by his son. Following them, unnoticed, came Helen +Marle. She took her place behind her mother without a word. + +“Father says the ruby has vanished!” cried the younger Osmuhn, and his +voice, and eyes, and very manner seemed a wild plea for denial. + +Colton merely nodded. “Utterly,” he confirmed. “Just as the necklace +disappeared--into a mist. Now tell me, Mr. Osmuhn,” he continued +quietly, “what was the appearance of the mist when you first saw it over +the necklace on the glass case outside?” + +“Why, it was just a mist,” stammered the son. “Just a cloud that spread +instantly.” + +“You never lifted your eyes from the stones?” + +“I don’t think so--though I may have looked up for an instant as Mr. +Norvel started toward his coat.” + +“Cloud--ribbon,” murmured the blind man, apparently to himself, tapping +his trouser-leg with his slim stick. + +“That wonderful ruby--gone!” muttered the elder Osmuhn, sinking, almost +inertly, into a chair at the other side of the small table. + +“My God!” They all turned, as the cry burst from the man who had entered +the vault-room unnoticed. The new comer was a cripple who hobbled along +with the aid of two heavy black canes. But it was the lean, intelligent +face, with the coal-black eyes and the thin nose, that held Sydney’s +gaze. Mentality was stamped in every deep-graven line, but now there +seemed a pitiful helplessness in the tremulous lips of the man as he +advanced toward them. + +“Mr. Norvel?” Colton stepped to meet the man with outstretched hand. +Then he answered the surprised looks some inner consciousness told him +was on the faces of the other persons in the room: “Mr. Osmuhn told me +of you when we were talking outside, and the tap of your canes as you +entered was all the identification I needed.” + +“Yes, I am Mr. Norvel.” The words came almost gaspingly, and Colton felt +the man’s hand tremble in his. “I was in my office when I saw Mr. Osmuhn +speak to Henry. I knew there was something wrong with the Thousand +Facets of Fire, and----.” + +He gasped chokingly, and staggered. Osmuhn jumped from his chair with a +cry of concern, the sight of the man before him momentarily driving from +his mind even the loss of the great ruby. “Sit down, Philip,” he +commanded, leading the crippled man to a chair. + +“These things--are taking the life out of me,” gasped the diamond expert +of the firm. “The necklace--then this!” + +“Mr. Norvel is on the verge of collapse,” whispered young Osmuhn. “He +has had valvular heart trouble for years. The loss of the diamond +necklace he had worked on upset him terribly--and he worked for months +to get the Thousand Facets of Fire.” + +Colton nodded sympathetically. “He should take a long rest,” murmured +the blind man. + +Norvel heard him. “I’ll get it soon,” he said helplessly, “in the +grave.” + +“You have years before you yet,” smiled Colton encouragingly. +“Disappearances like these are calculated to frazzle the best of +nerves.” Then, in the same gentle tone he had used in questioning Mrs. +Marle, he went on: “Mr. Osmuhn told me of the terrible auto accident you +had in France last summer, Mr. Norvel. Your driver and the occupant of +the other car were killed, weren’t they?” + +“Yes,” the cripple shuddered. “And it made an old man of me, that and my +rotten heart.” + +Again Thornley Colton nodded sympathetically. “You hovered between life +and death for several months, I understand?” + +“Practically dead,” Norvel answered. + +“Um!” The blind man rolled the thin stick between his slender fingers, +and puzzled lines appeared on his forehead. + +“What is the object of those questions?” demanded the elder Osmuhn, and +he could not keep the impatience from his voice. + +“A long chance, nothing more,” Colton assured him quietly. “A chance +that Mr. Norvel, in his delirium, might have told secrets that gave the +criminal information necessary to commit these robberies.” + +The diamond expert half rose from his chair, his hands clutching his +heavy canes. “That may be true--I may be responsible!” + +“Ridiculous!” snapped Osmuhn, and he made no attempt to keep the +impatience from his tone now. + +“We can’t afford to overlook even the remotest possibility in a case +like this,” said Thornley Colton evenly. + +Norvel lowered the hand that had been clutching at his heart. “Why don’t +you search?” he cried. “The stone couldn’t have gotten out of the room! +The walls are of solid concrete, impregnable. The ruby must be here!” + +The elder Osmuhn looked around nervously, eyes travelling from one face +to the other, seeking vainly for some way out. Mrs. Marle rose and +slipped her arm around the waist of her daughter. + +“I will submit to a search,” she said quietly. + +“Thank you! Thank you!” Osmuhn fairly choked his relief. “I will get +Miss----.” + +“Do you want to search Sydney and me?” asked Thornley Colton, with a +half smile on his expressive lips. + +“I don’t think it is necessary; you weren’t----.” Osmuhn stopped, +understanding that he had practically admitted that Mrs. Marle was the +only one on whom suspicion rested. His son opened his mouth to protest, +but the woman forestalled him. + +“I understand,” she said steadily. + +“Then we will go; it is long past my lunch-hour.” The blind man’s +fingers touched the crystalless watch in his pocket. + +“Don’t you want to know the result of the search?” Osmuhn asked blankly. + +“I know it now,” said the blind man, with that same curious smile on his +lips. “Good-bye, Mr. Osmuhn.” He shook hands heartily with the jeweller, +and held the woman’s hand in his for an instant. + +“I shall be at your reception to-morrow night,” he reminded, and she +murmured a steady-voiced “Thank you.” + +The blind man touched the fingers of the daughter, clasped the palm of +the younger Osmuhn and that of Norvel, and hurried out, leaving them +staring after him. + +It was not until he and Sydney were in the big car on their way to the +old-fashioned up-town house and luncheon that Thornley Colton spoke. + +“One of the most remarkable crimes I’ve ever had the good fortune to +work on, Sydney. And a remarkable thief--a criminal with an +imagination.” + +“But how did they vanish; where did the ruby and the necklace go?” asked +Sydney Thames helplessly. + +“Regarding the first part of your double-barrelled question: Is it +possible, after all you have heard, that you don’t know _how_ they +vanish?” The smile on the thin lips was inscrutable. “Where they go, +Sydney, is not half so important as where they are. That’s where the +work comes in. I am sure that I know where the Thousand Facets of Fire +is, but I don’t know where the necklace is. I never half complete a +case. By waiting I can get both the necklace and the ruby. By jumping +recklessly I can arrest the criminal and recover the ruby; but I’m not a +detective, Sydney; problems are merely my recreation. So I’ll recover +both.” + +“The ruby!” exclaimed Sydney. “You know where that is?” + +“Certainly,” nodded Colton, snapping his smoked cigarette into the +street. “The thief has been safe because he has worked against men who +have imaginations that are handicapped by eyes. My imagination is +unhampered. As I told Osmuhn, the search will reveal nothing, despite +the fact that the ruby is just about three feet from the place where it +disappeared!” + + + III. + +The red-haired boy with the slightly twisted nose who had become a +member of the Colton household as the only fee to a particularly +baffling murder case, shifted from one foot to the other in an ecstasy +of joy, listening intently and eagerly as the blind man talked. When +Thornley Colton had finished, he could contain himself no longer. + +“Gee! I’m gettin’ to be a reg’ler detective. Yuh reelly want me to trail +him?” He asked the last anxiously, fearful lest he had heard wrong. + +“Yes,” smiled the problemist. “Shadow him.” + +“B’lieve me, Mr. Colton.” The boy’s eyes were round and serious. “If I +locate that nigger, I’ll show him Nick Carter ain’t got nothin’ on me. +An’ I’ll find him, too!” he boasted. + +“There’s a Hindu somewhere around,” nodded Colton. “He doesn’t amount to +much, except as a trail to the real criminal, but I expect him to do a +certain thing, and I want to make sure of it. That’s all.” + +“I’ll get him,” chirped the boy, and, pulling his cap down over his +ears, he darted from the room. + +Colton snapped out the light and sat puffing his cigarette in the +darkness. For half an hour he did not move, except to light a new +cigarette. Sydney Thames entered with a slip of paper in his hand, and +Colton switched on the light again. + +“Three boats leave this week,” announced Sydney. “The _Bordeaux_ +to-morrow, the _Trevoila_ Thursday, and the _Paris_ Saturday.” + +“I think that last is about it,” mused Colton, his thin fingers beating +a devil’s tattoo on the arm of his chair. + +“What?” + +“The date of the thief’s departure for Europe.” + +“The date of----,” gasped Sydney. + +Thornley Colton nodded. “He’ll have time for that one after he finds out +that the next trick he’s going to play hasn’t thrown me off the track. +He doesn’t realise--yet--the possibilities of blindness; he doesn’t +understand that the things which deceive the ordinary man only make +facts clearer to me.” Colton pushed the desk-button that would summon +the automobile at any hour of the twenty-four. “Let’s take in a matinée, +Sydney,” he said, rising. + +That afternoon, and that night, not a word was said regarding the +remarkable thefts at the shop of Osmuhn & Son. Thornley Colton had +apparently forgotten all about it. Early the next morning he answered an +anxious query from Osmuhn by saying that he was hard at work, and +immediately after he idled away two hours in his music-room. At ten +o’clock the telephone rang, and the puzzled Sydney heard the following +one-sided conversation:-- + +“Hello, Shrimp. English valet, eh? Funny! What! Invalid who has a Hindu +servant that wheels him out every afternoon at four o’clock? Hindu went +away alone at ten o’clock this morning? Where? Good! Good! That’s all +now. Go to one of your moving-picture shows for the rest of the day.” + +There was a broad smile on his lips as he hung up the receiver. + +“What is it?” asked Sydney. + +“Just another example of how a clever man will accomplish his object in +a clever way. Look up Irotette’s number, will you? I haven’t got it on +my list.” + +“The caterer?” + +“Yes.” When Colton got the connection, and gave his name, there was no +doubt of his standing with New York society’s biggest caterer. “I want a +favour,” he said, when the head of the firm was at the other end of the +wire. “An exceptionally intelligent-looking coloured man just applied +for a night’s work at Mrs. Marle’s reception to-night. You took him? I +thought you would, for I know the difficulty of getting good men for a +big affair like that. Now for the favour. Can you fix it so that his +work will allow him the freedom of the rooms? Thanks!” + +Sydney started to ask a question, but the blind man forestalled him. +“To-morrow you’ll know all about it,” he promised. + +Sydney realised that Colton would not say a word till the time came, +and, under protest, he accompanied the problemist to the Marle reception +that night. Colton apparently enjoyed every minute of the time, but +Sydney, as usual, was on edge continuously, for his fear of pretty women +amounted almost to an obsession. Even the wonderful personality of Mrs. +Marle, who went from one guest to another, as though she had not a care +in the world, and as though the disappearance of the ruby had never +occurred, was not able to put him at his ease. + +Promptly at eleven o’clock next morning Colton summoned his car. “We’re +going to make a party call on Mrs. Marle,” was the way he answered +Sydney’s question. + +“Didn’t you get enough last night?” groaned Thames. + +“Quite,” nodded the blind man, “but did you notice that bright-looking +serving man with the coal-black eyes? Mrs. Marle pointed him out to me. +He is the Hindu whom I spoke to Irotette about.” + +“Hindu?” ejaculated Sydney. “Why should a Hindu be serving ices at a +fool reception?” + +“Because he had a little job to do. I’m going to call on Mrs. Marle this +morning, and see how he did it,” replied Colton, as he pulled on his +gloves. + +When Mrs. Marle appeared, Sydney Thames had hard work to repress a gasp +of astonishment. Last night she had been happy, cheerful. Now she was +haggard, there were circles under her eyes, and her hand trembled as she +held it out. + +“An unexpected pleasure, Mr. Colton.” She tried to say it graciously, +but her voice shook, and there was a piteous look in her eyes. + +Thornley Colton spoke quietly, evenly. “The ruby, please.” The words +struck the astounded Sydney like a pistol-shot. + +The woman choked a sob in her throat, and swayed slightly. Thornley +Colton led her gently to a chair. + +“I didn’t take it!” she cried brokenly. “I didn’t! I’m _not_ a thief! I +found it in my jewel-case last night. I don’t know how it got there--and +Helen saw it, too!” The last words came in a sobbing gasp. + +“Of course you didn’t take it!” declared Colton. “You haven’t even got +it!” She looked up, searching his eyes to find the truth she had prayed +for during the long hours of the night. + +“You mean it! You know!” Her hand was on his arm; pleading, joy +unutterable was in her voice. + +“I didn’t think that you would find it until this morning,” Colton said +contritely. “It was placed there last night by an accomplice of the real +thief. I knew it would be. The thief realised that he must throw some +dust in the eyes of all of us. He failed to understand that dust +wouldn’t affect my eyes. The ruby you have is only an imitation, but it +would have served its purpose. Let me have it.” + +“Yes! Yes! Take it!” The hysteria of reaction was in her voice; she held +out her left hand, and the red stone gleamed as the folds of the +covering handkerchief fell away from it. “I must tell Helen--I asked her +to call up Mr. Osmuhn.” + +“I’m going to see him now,” Colton told her, and he hurried out, +followed by her tremulous thanks. + +The elder Osmuhn seemed on the verge of nervous prostration when they +arrived at the shop. He jumped from the chair in his glass-enclosed +office, and fairly ran to meet them. + +“I’ve been trying to get you for fifteen minutes!” he said hoarsely. +“Mrs. Marle has the ruby. Henry has just gone there. I never +thought----.” + +“I have seen Mrs. Marle,” said Colton sharply. “You should know her +better than that. The ruby she had was a mere imitation. Here it is.” + +Osmuhn snatched it eagerly, glanced at it, and groaned. “But how did she +get this stone?” he demanded. “It is exactly the same weight and cut as +the Thousand Facets of Fire. She saw the ruby three months ago!” There +was suspicion in his voice now. “She is the only one in New York who did +see it! No one could have made an imitation so exactly in the few hours +since the original was stolen. And her story of the disappearance was so +impossible!” Hours of brooding over the loss of the stone had apparently +done their work. + +“Don’t you believe your son’s story of the necklace disappearance?” +asked Colton impatiently. + +“But _she_ has a passion for jewels. The ruby must have destroyed----.” + +“If she had stolen it, she would have had more sense than bring this new +suspicion against herself. I’ll get the thief, also the ruby and +necklace. But I’ll get him in my own way and my own time. You’d better +wait. Good day!” + +Leaving the head of the house of Osmuhn & Son staring, mouth agape, he +left the shop. Thornley Colton never had patience with men who couldn’t +see through a ladder when God had given them eyes. + +“Telephone-booth, Sydney,” the blind man said, when they were out of the +shop. “I’m going to put joy into the heart of Shrimp. Then we’ll kill a +few hours before the next act. This is a show with long intermissions.” + +The next three hours seemed the longest Sydney Thames had ever spent. +They went to an up-town restaurant, and Colton ate as though there was +not another thing worth thinking about in the world. Sydney was a +flutter of impatience. He couldn’t enjoy his food; the music of the +orchestra grated on his nerves; the waiter angered him by his continued +hovering. But Sydney knew the futility of questioning the blind man. He +knew that each apparently irrelevant thing the blind man had done would +lead logically to the finish of the case. But what was the finish? Who +was the thief? Where were the jewels that Thornley Colton expected to +get by waiting? + +At last the crystalless watch told the blind man that the time had come. +“We’ll take a little walk along Ninety-first Street,” he said. “I expect +to meet a white-haired invalid in a wheel-chair, with a Hindu servant. +Watch for him.” + +They reached Ninety-first Street, and strolled along casually; two +idlers out for an afternoon walk. Suddenly Sydney saw the invalid. + +“A man in a wheel-chair was just brought out of that brownstone house a +block up the street. The man wheeling him is coloured.” + +“Don’t notice him,” warned Colton. + +They walked slowly toward the on-coming wheel-chair. Sydney tried his +best to appear as calm as the blind man, but he could feel his heart +pounding in his chest. What was going to happen? The street, for a +block, was deserted, save for them, the two others, and a ragged street +gamin, who was speeding along the smooth pavement on roller skates. + +Sydney could see the man in the chair plainly now. His long, white hair +almost touched his shoulders, the white beard swept his breast, and came +up almost to his eyes. His legs were wrapped tight in a red blanket, and +a shawl was thrown over his shoulders. + +Only five feet separated them. As they stepped out to let the chair go +past, the gamin, with a wild whoop, came speeding up in back of the +chair, head down. He skated straight at the Hindu servant, struck him, +and bowled him over. With a shriek of joy he continued on his way after +staggering Sydney Thames as he brushed past him. + +Colton leaped forward with a cry of mingled anger and sympathy. His hand +on the round iron handle of the chair kept it from going over, and he +grasped one of the big knobs at the handle-ends to steady himself as he +helped the muttering servant to his feet. + +“Little devil!” snapped the invalid, in a high-pitched, querulous voice. +Then, as Thornley Colton stepped in front of him: “Thank you, young +man.” + +“He should be arrested,” declared Colton emphatically. He held out his +hand. “I am blind,” he apologised. “Will you shake the hand of another +of the afflicted? My secretary described you to me as you came along.” + +“Well, you’re no worse off than I am,” cackled the man in the chair. “I +see too devilish much! Good day.” + +Colton bowed and stood aside. The impassive-faced servant pushed the +chair down the side-walk. + +“It’s a crime the way those gamins carry on,” muttered Sydney, when they +had walked a hundred yards or so in silence. + +Colton chuckled. “I’ll have to tell Shrimp how good his disguise was,” +he laughed. + +“Shrimp!” echoed Sydney in amazement. + +“Certainly.” Thornley Colton grinned broadly. “He was on hand to give +our Hindu friend a bump when the proper time came.” + +“In Heaven’s name why?” + +“So that I could locate the probable hiding-place of the ruby and the +necklace when the time came for hiding them there. Also, to give me a +chance to shake the hand of the man who stole them. Davidson is the +invalid’s name. Quite a character, isn’t he?” + + + IV. + +In the darkened music-room Thornley Colton’s fingers wandered idly over +the keys, now improvising, now filling the room with the ever-living +soul of Beethoven, now swinging crashingly into Wagner; then his fingers +on the upper treble brought forth a strange discord of notes through +which ran a weird minor melody. The last seemed to please him, for he +repeated it, until Sydney Thames, who had been nervously pacing the +room, stopped in his tracks. + +“What the deuce do you call that?” he demanded, the discords still +ringing in his ears. “It’s horrible!” + +“Because it doesn’t agree with your orthodox ideas of music,” declared +Colton seriously. “That is one of the most beautiful pieces of music I +know. It is a Hindustan adaptation of the ‘Chinese Flute Song’ of _Siao +She_. It is a fitting accompaniment for this latest case of ours.” + +“And just as understandable,” observed Sydney, walking up and down the +room again. Colton turned again toward the keys, and Sydney broke out +impatiently: “Why don’t you do something, Thorn? Two whole days have +passed since you found the man who stole the ruby, and you haven’t done +a thing! Osmuhn suspects Mrs. Marle, and she is on the verge of +collapse. You haven’t made an attempt to clear up the mystery. It isn’t +right! Osmuhn is rapidly losing his patience; his son must stand +helplessly by and see the mother of the girl he loves suspected; and the +thing is making a nervous wreck of Norvel. It is only a matter of days +when he will have to leave the business for good.” + +“Osmuhn’s patience became exhausted last night,” Thornley Colton said. +“He advised me that he had lost faith in my efforts, and that he was +going to call in the police.” + +“Great Heaven!” exclaimed Sydney. “That means that they will arrest Mrs. +Marle!” It only needed a woman in trouble to put the susceptible Sydney +Thames at sixes and sevens. + +“I think even the police will hesitate before arresting a woman like +Mrs. Marle on mere suspicion,” the blind man declared. + +The electric bell at the front door sent out its announcement. + +“See who it is, will you? Shrimp is out on a little job for me.” + +Sydney hurried out, and the problemist’s sensitive finger-tips felt the +face of the crystalless watch in his pocket. A frown furrowed his +forehead for a minute. He went into the library, and was sitting at the +desk which held the telephone when Sydney came back, followed by Henry +Osmuhn, junior. + +“They are going to arrest Helen’s mother!” burst out Osmuhn the instant +he crossed the threshold. + +Colton’s mobile face expressed sympathy. “I don’t think they will,” he +assured quietly. + +“But they’re going to!” cried Osmuhn fiercely. “My father put the thing +into the hands of the police yesterday afternoon. The days of brooding +over the loss of the Thousand Facets of Fire have driven him half crazy. +The finding of the imitation ruby in Mrs. Marle’s possession, and your +refusal to explain what you are waiting for, have driven every bit of +commonsense from him. Detectives badgered her for two hours last night. +She is on the verge of hysteria. And Helen----.” He paced up and down +the room like a caged tiger, each word tumbling over the other as it +came from his lips; his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. The +sensitive-nerved Sydney Thames caught the contagion. + +“It’s a crime to let those innocent women suffer, while you sit there, +calmly smoking a cigarette!” charged the secretary bitterly. He turned +away as the blind man’s lips curved in a smile. “He has known the thief +for two days!” he told Osmuhn, beside himself at the injustice of the +problemist. + +“He knows the thief!” Osmuhn stopped dead in his tracks, staring +incredulously at Sydney. Then he whirled to face the blind man, who sat +quietly back in his chair, blowing smoke-rings towards the ceiling. “Why +don’t you have him arrested?” he demanded, voice high with excitement. + +“Because I want to get the jewels,” answered the blind man. + +“But a search, a confession, will----.” + +“Do you suppose that a man with the daring and cleverness necessary to +accomplish those robberies would either confess or hide the stones where +they could be found?” he asked, a trifle impatiently. “I’m waiting for +the thief to hide the jewels in a place where I can find them. That will +be when he is about to start away. To arrest him before would mean an +endless search. You must understand that the thief who could commit +robberies like those is a wonderfully clever man. I know that he is +marvellous, for he is the only man I ever saw whose heart-beats failed +to show any emotion whatever.” + +“Who is the thief!” asked Osmuhn soberly. All the excitement and +incredulity had gone from his voice now. + +“A man who calls himself Davidson; an invalid who is wheeled around by a +Hindu servant for an hour or so each afternoon. He is never seen at +other times. He lives next door to Mr. Norvel, your diamond-expert.” + +“So that’s how he knew!” cried Osmuhn, eye alight with understanding. +“Was he in France when Mr. Norvel’s accident occurred?” The question +Colton had put at the time of the ruby robbery flashed back in his mind. + +The blind man nodded. “I am going to see him the minute my boy calls me +up and tells me that he is getting ready to start to the steamer +_Paris_, which sails at noon to-day.” + +The jangling telephone-bell came as a period to the sentence. Colton +removed the receiver, listened a moment, said a single “All right, +Shrimp,” and rose. “The curtain is up for the last act,” he said +soberly. He pulled open a drawer of the desk and took out a +wicked-looking blued-steel automatic and slipped it into his side +coat-pocket. + +“There won’t be any need of that?” Osmuhn asked nervously. + +“The man we are going after isn’t the kind that holds his hands out for +the steel bracelets,” replied the problemist grimly. + +“But you are blind!” cried Osmuhn. “You can’t see!” + +The blind man’s smile was one of amusement as he answered: “If I had not +been blind, I wouldn’t have solved this case, and, if I’m not mistaken +in my man, my lack of eyes is going to do more toward his actual capture +than your keen ones. I have an idea you’ll see another mysterious +disappearance--of men this time.” + +He slipped on his overcoat and led them out of the house and into the +waiting car, which had stood at the curb for the last half-hour. There +was not a word spoken by the three men until the car turned into +Ninety-first Street. + +“Hadn’t we better stop at the corner and walk?” asked Osmuhn, as the car +continued on and swerved in toward the curb before the brownstone house. + +Colton flicked his cigarette away and shook his head. “I guess Mr. +Davidson is expecting us. I’ve had Shrimp working pretty openly in the +last day or two. I think the thief will want to pull off one last +grand-stand play before he leaves.” + +The red-haired boy who had been leaning against a tree at the other side +of the street ran over and hopped on the run-board. + +“Kin I go in with yuh, Mr. Colton?” he asked eagerly, eyes shining with +excitement. + +The blind man shook his head. “No, Shrimp,” he denied. “You go over and +telephone for the police. We’ll need them in a few minutes.” + +The boy’s face showed his disappointment, but he tried bravely to keep +it out of his voice. “All right, sir,” he said, with an assumed +cheeriness that was pathetic. + +Sydney opened the tonneau-door, and Colton alighted, his slim stick +before him locating the way up the wide stone steps. His lips were a +grim, straight line as he pushed the button, and Osmuhn saw him put his +hand in his pocket to assure himself that the automatic was ready for +instant use. The nerves of the junior Osmuhn were taut, and his muscles +tensed as the door swung back and the grave-faced Hindu that the +disguised Shrimp had bowled over two days before stood looking at them +gravely. + +“What wish the Sahibs?” His voice was deep and rich. He had only +muttered when they had seen him last. + +“Is Mr. Davidson in?” asked Colton politely. Sydney thought he saw a +gleam of fire in the Hindu’s dark eyes for an instant. + +“Sahib Davidson is busied. He starts for the German baths at noon on the +boat.” + +“It is highly important.” The blind man’s voice was suave. + +From somewhere in the rear of the house came the piping, querulous voice +of the invalid: “Who the devil is it, Pinjur?” + +“I know not, Sahib,” called the Hindu, in reply. + +“The blind man who spoke to him two days ago when the boy of the street +nearly upset his chair,” enlightened Thornley Colton, and the ears of +the old man were keen, for they heard. + +“Send him in!” snapped the squeaky voice. “And come in yourself. There’s +a very devil of a draft!” + +The Hindu stood aside gravely as they entered, closed the door carefully +behind them, and, with a bowed invitation to follow, led the way down +the hall toward the library. + +Osmuhn’s tense muscles relaxed, and a gasp of amazement came to his lips +as they stepped inside the semi-darkened room, and he saw the +white-haired, white-bearded old man Thornley Colton had declared was the +thief who had stolen the Thousand Facets of Fire and the diamond +necklace. Could this be the man, who, by some infernal magic, had caused +three-quarters of a million dollars’ worth of jewels to disappear while +people watched them? + +The old man drew himself closer to the desk, with his white hands on the +wheels of his steel-framed chair, and peered at them short-sightedly. + +“What do you want, gentlemen?” he piped. “I haven’t but a minute. Have +I, Pinjur?” He darted a queer, bird-like glance toward the Indian +servant, who stood, straight-backed, before the one window that broke +the lines of high bookshelves surrounding the room. The Hindu bowed. + +Colton advanced half a step toward the desk. “We want,” he said, slowly +and distinctly, “the Thousand Facets of Fire and the diamond necklace!” + +The old man’s cackling laugh came from the white beard even before the +last word had been uttered. “You want the ruby, eh?” he squealed, his +hand falling on the desk before him. “He wants the necklace, too, +Pinjur.” + +Osmuhn’s eyes turned toward the Hindu; he saw the Indian lift one +hand--then a rising curtain of mist seemed to hide him! Another rose +over the desk! In an instant the two had joined, and a solid wall of +fog, dense, impenetrable, hid half of the room. + +“The mist!” he cried, falling back a step, the fear of the supernatural +in his eyes. + +He saw Thornley Colton leap forward; saw him swallowed up--vanish +utterly. He could not move, nor could Sydney Thames beside him. They +both heard a weird, gurgling cry, an oath in a strange language. Then +the report of a pistol echoed through the room; the flash showed +yellow-pink through the mist. + +Thornley Colton’s voice rang out:-- + +“Fling open the door!” The words loosed the leaden muscles of Sydney +Thames. He sprang to obey. The current of air seemed to tear the mist to +shreds instantly. Osmuhn took a half-step forward--stopped. Horror +showed on his face for an instant; then amazement. + +On the floor beside the bookcase lay the Hindu. The blood from his wound +was staining the carpet. Beside him was a curious-looking knife, with +the point stained a dull green. But Thornley Colton and the invalid had +vanished utterly! + +The line of bookcases was still unbroken. The wheel-chair was where it +had been before, but the occupant and the blind man were gone! + +Fascinated, horror-stricken, the two men gazed at the empty chair and +the silent form of the Indian. A soft click sounded like a pistol-shot +in the death stillness of the room. A section of the case swung outward, +and Thornley Colton, his overcoat slashed from shoulder to waist, stood +before them, smiling grimly. + +“My God, Thorn!” gasped Sydney, his strictured heart beating once more. + +“Is there any blood on that knife-point, Sydney?” asked the blind man +quietly. + +Thames picked up the knife to examine it. + +“Careful,” warned the problemist. “By the way he slashed at me I think +there is one of the devilish Indian poisons on the point.” + +Osmuhn and Sydney looked at the green-stained point, the slashed coat of +the man who stood before them, smiling calmly, as he awaited the verdict +of life or death. + +“No,” choked Sydney. He staggered against the wall. “Thank God! Thank +God!” he prayed, eyes on the man who had been the only father he had +ever known. + +Thornley Colton dismissed his escape with a nod and spoke to the +white-faced Osmuhn. “I think I told you that eyes would be of very +little use in the _denouement_. I knew the man, and the chances he’d +take. I expected the fog. The game was to spring open the secret door, +wheel the man and the chair inside, and leave us gaping idiotically. +Would you like to see the thief; the cleverest, most daring I have ever +encountered?” + +He stepped aside. Dazedly Osmuhn and Sydney followed, only to stop at +the doorway. + +Manacled on the floor was the thief. Beside him, in a little heap, was +the white wig and beard. + +The thief was Norvel, the diamond expert! + +“No,” said Thornley Colton, “it isn’t Norvel. It is the man who has been +impersonating him for months. The man who lay in a French hospital +learning every secret of the real Norvel, as he raved in delirium +following the accident. Where Norvel is----.” He paused significantly. + +“His carcass is feeding fishes in the Seine!” snarled the crippled man. +Then he burst into a vicious, sneering laugh. “Find the jewels?” he +taunted. + +“Easily.” Colton went through the door that Sydney and Osmuhn now knew +connected Norvel’s house with the one next door. He wrenched off one of +the knobs at the end of the wheel-chair handle. They saw the red flash +of the ruby as he held it up to the light. + +“The necklace and the dozen other jewels that haven’t yet been missed +are in the hollow handle,” he said quietly. + + + V. + +It was several hours later. In the ornately furnished vault at the shop +of Osmuhn & Son were the younger Osmuhn and Helen Marle, seated side by +side in two Heppelwhite chairs, their hands clasped, unashamed. At the +small table was Osmuhn, senior; across from him, where she had been when +the wonderful ruby disappeared, was Mrs. Marle. + +Young Osmuhn jumped to his feet as footsteps sounded outside. + +“Here he comes!” his voice rang out joyously, as Thornley Colton +entered, a long, paper-wrapped bundle under his arm. + +Osmuhn, senior, came forward and held out his hand. “I can never thank +you enough,” he said brokenly. + +“Thank me?” smiled the blind man. “The thanks are all on my side. It was +the most interesting problem I ever tackled.” + +He laid down the long bundle on the small table, and took Mrs. Marle’s +extended hand. She did not say a word, but the expression on her face +told volumes; and she understood that the man without eyes knew. + +“Now tell us how it was all done,” broke in Helen Marle eagerly. “Henry +has just told us how wonderful you were at the house. Tell us how the +ruby vanished.” + +The irrepressible curiosity of the girl brought a smile to the blind +man’s lips. “I’ll start right at the beginning,” he promised. “At the +police station the false Norvel consented to talk--a little. The Hindu +is in the hospital. The two of them followed the Thousand Facets of Fire +all through Europe, trying to get their hands on it. The real Norvel +bought it before they had a chance to steal it, and substitute the +imitation they had had made. Not knowing that he had already sent it to +America, they were following Norvel when their automobile crashed into +his on the outskirts of an obscure French village. The drivers of both +cars were killed. Norvel got a knock on the head that resulted in +concussion of the brain. + +“The thief, who refuses to tell his name, or anything of his history, +had both hips broken, and was made a cripple for life. But he is a +wonderful man. He had a cot next to Norvel, and for weeks he heard +Norvel rave of his past life, the ruby, the business--things that are +reiterated over and over in the raving of delirium. The thief realised +what the knowledge was worth. The fake news of Norvel’s death went out. +When he had recovered sufficiently to leave the hospital, he was +murdered, and the thief became Norvel. He returned here, a changed man, +but there was never a chance for suspicion. He was a wonderful actor. He +knew everything that Norvel had known, and he knew jewels even better +than Norvel himself. + +“His Hindu partner and an Englishman who merely played the role of +Norvel’s valet came with him. But the thief was a master. The crude +stealing made possible by his position didn’t appeal to him. He wanted +excitement, to astound people. So he planned to make a million by the +cleverest thefts ever committed in the world. The Hindu had learned +secrets from the greatest yogi in India, and he was a wonderful worker +in gold plate and other metals. For weeks he worked and produced these.” +Colton stripped the paper from the long bundle, and the two heavy canes +Norvel had always carried were revealed. + +“What----,” began Osmuhn dazedly. + +Colton took one of the canes and laid it on the table. “This is the cane +Norvel put on the glass case when the diamond necklace disappeared. Let +me have that one he stole for a minute, will you?” + +Osmuhn swung open the door of the safe and laid it before the blind man. + +“Your son was talking, while Norvel was fingering the necklace like +this.” Colton pretended to examine the string of stones with his eyes, +placing them in a perfectly straight line with the end of the cane, not +four inches from its feruled bottom. “Watch!” he commanded. “Don’t take +your eyes from the stones!” He turned away; not one of them saw the +delicate pull he gave to the black thread that was attached to an almost +invisible knob at the cane handle. But they did see the feruled bottom +spring open. They saw a small claw dart out, swift as the fang of a +snake, catch the first stone of the necklace, and in a fraction of an +instant the necklace had been drawn into the hollow cane like a snake in +its hole--swiftly, silently. The cap closed at the bottom, the cane was +merely a cane once more. + +He showed them the thread, like the one Norvel had pulled when he +started toward his overcoat. + +“But the mist I saw?” demanded Osmuhn, junior. “What was that?” + +“That is the most wonderful thing the Hindu yogi have in their bag of +tricks. I was present at a private exhibition of it twenty years ago in +the hill country of India. The men who were with me said that they saw a +man disappear in a cloud of mist, just as you saw it attempted to-day. +Twenty years ago it was one of the most profound mysteries of India. +To-day it isn’t.” + +“Isn’t?” echoed Osmuhn. + +“No. The trick is done with a wonderful powder called _scurtii-scurtii_. +The powder is so finely ground that when let free in absolutely still +air it hangs in the shape of a mist until a breeze blows it away. But it +doesn’t billow out like mist, or fog. By some curious property it hangs +in the form of a thin, impenetrable curtain, either vertically or +horizontally, according to the way it has been shot into the air. The +disappearance trick in India can be done only on an absolutely calm day. +Just as it could be done only in a vault like this, or in the store +outside, when every one had gone, and there was no possibility of a door +opening. The powder was released from the cane when the end opened.” + +“But the ruby?” asked Mrs. Marle. “There is no break in the concrete +walls; no way that Mr. Norvel could have gotten access to this room.” + +Colton pointed toward the brass wall-plate, with its two light buttons, +a foot from her elbow. “There is the explanation, and the thing that +told me how the trick had been done.” + +They crowded around the table to gaze at the two innocent-appearing +buttons. + +“When you snapped off the light for me,” said the blind man to the +jeweller, “my ear, trained for years to read every sound, immediately +caught the false note in the snap of the button against the contact. +When I snapped on the lights my fingers found something that no eye +could ever have detected. Instead of being roughly ground +mother-of-pearl, as the centre of those black buttons always is, my +supersensitive finger tip knew instantly that it was highly polished +glass; a lens, in fact.” + +“By Jove, you’re right!” Osmuhn had been examining it with a powerful +glass. + +“Yes,” nodded Colton, “and if you put the glass to the other plain +button you’ll see a narrow slot, not much thicker than a sheet of paper, +through which the _scurtii-scurtii_ was injected the minute Mr. Osmuhn +turned his back to follow his invariable rule of arranging the small +boxes in the safe, while the customer looked at the jewel. The minute +the mist had covered the ruby, Norvel, in his office on the other side +of the wall, where there is a plate exactly opposite this, so that the +electricians would only have to make one hole for both in the solid +concrete, swung the plates back and stole the jewel like this.” + +He unscrewed the heavy knob from the other cane, and from the hollow +interior took what looked like a slender cane that, they could see, was +made like a telescope of wonderfully thin metal sections. At the small +end was a shallow, heavy rubber cup, with the interior smeared with a +thick, gummy substance. Colton’s fingers found a curious trigger-like +projection at the larger end. + +“I don’t need the ruby for this. When the wall plate, which he and the +Hindu had fixed when Norvel was supposed to be working late, swung +open--hidden, of course, from Mrs. Marle by the mist--he thrust the cup +end of the cane through the opening like this.” He thrust the cane +toward Mrs. Marle’s hand. Before she could jerk it away, his finger +touched the trigger, and the cane shut up like a telescope, as swiftly +and silently as a darting shaft of light. “The actual theft didn’t take +an instant,” explained Colton, and he couldn’t keep the admiration from +his voice. “All he had to do was to touch the stone in your hand, which +wasn’t a foot from the wall-plate, the partial vacuum of the cup and the +gummy substance would make it stick, and the spring inside would bring +it through the plate-hole instantly. Then the plate closed, and the +thing was accomplished before you could move a muscle.” + +“But what made the mist disappear?” Osmuhn wanted to know. “There was no +current of air here.” + +“When you turned you must have shut the safe door. Of course, that would +blow it away instantly, and the powder is so fine that you’d never see a +trace of it. In the robbery of the necklace Norvel swung around with his +coat on his arm, so that it formed a fan.” + +“But how did you ever connect the man who had fooled us all; the man who +had impersonated Norvel so successfully?” queried Osmuhn. + +Colton’s lips curved in a curious smile. “The impersonation was so +perfect that it would have deceived any one with eyes, just as his +thefts did. And his acting of Davidson was a wonderful piece of work. He +could impersonate everything but valvular heart disease.” + +“Valvular heart disease?” queried Osmuhn dumbly. + +“Yes.” Colton’s lips and voice were serious. “He was the most wonderful +criminal I have ever met. A criminal with imagination great enough to +plan such crimes, and daring sufficient to execute them when a single +move, or a breath of air, would have betrayed him. But his acting was +too good. When he came in here after stealing the ruby there was not a +fraction of a beat above normal in his heart. He was as cool as ice when +the heart of ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have been pounding +like a trip hammer. It was steady as a clock even when I left him in the +chair apparently on the verge of collapse. Even then he was planning an +unsuspicious get-away. Even when Shrimp, my boy, almost knocked his +chair over, there wasn’t a flutter. I shook hands with him, so that I +could establish his identity absolutely. To me there is as much +difference between hands and wrists as there is between faces to men who +see. But the pulse beat of valvular heart disease is absolutely +unmistakable. The heart of the man who played Norvel so successfully was +as sound as my own. + +“I spoke in here of the possibility of the thief having learned his +facts by listening to Norvel in his delirium. The thief realised that a +cable to France might give away his whole game. I was afraid that he had +hidden the necklace so cunningly that we wouldn’t find it, though I knew +where the ruby was ten minutes after it was stolen.” + +Osmuhn half jumped from his chair. + +“You--knew where--the ruby was!” he gasped. + +“Yes. I took care to touch his cane handles as I shook hands with him. +Your son’s story of the necklace theft told me that one of the canes was +responsible for that. While he was in here the ruby was in the big knob +at the end of the cane, not three feet away from where it had been +stolen. But with my own stick and wonderfully sensitive finger-tips, I +knew that the necklace had been put somewhere else. Therefore, I gave +him the hint he needed about Mrs. Marle’s reception. I knew if he had an +imitation--which was likely, because he must have been on the track of +the ruby to meet Norvel on the other side--he would try to get it into +Mrs. Marle’s possession for the purpose of confusing all of us. Then my +boy found out about his dual role of Davidson and Norvel. Davidson +appeared only after Norvel had arrived home, and Norvel was supposed to +be in such physical condition that he couldn’t be seen at home. I +immediately told you that the jewel was an imitation, put in Mrs. +Marle’s home by the real thief, because I knew Norvel would hear all +about it, and understand that I wasn’t fooled for a minute. It was time +for him to go. The French boat sailed at noon to-day. I knew he would +see me, because he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to prove his +superiority, and make a final grand-stand play by disappearing before +our very eyes as Davidson, and walk out of the next house a few minutes +later as Norvel the diamond expert, whose twenty-eight years’ service +with Osmuhn & Son placed him above suspicion. You see, he was taking no +chances; he always had two ways open. But he forgot that the mist he had +appear in his library meant nothing to me. _My eyes can’t be deceived!_” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + THE SIXTH PROBLEM + + THE GILDED GLOVE + + + I. + +A hundred eyes turned as the woman entered the dining-room; a hundred +lips parted in admiration as she made her way through the winding aisle +of tables in the wake of the straight-backed head-waiter. There were +many beautiful women in the room, but, among them all, she was +wonderful. Under the soft glow of shaded lights the ivory tints of her +skin, with the colour of rich warm blood under it, were accentuated by +the burnished gold of her hair. Behind the full red lips the pearl of +her teeth showed; the great brown eyes looked over the room calmly, with +aloofness. There was nothing girlish about the new arrival. Every line, +every curve, bespoke perfect maturity. + +Then the lips that had been parted in admiration curved in a smile as +the eyes saw the man who followed her. He was scarcely five feet tall; a +caricature of a man. His small moustache and ragged Vandyke were so +colourless that they could not be seen at a distance. And he walked +behind the woman with a peculiar lifting of knees at each step that +reminded every one who saw of a helpless little coach-dog. To a hundred +minds flashed the simile: the beauty and the beast of Madame +Villeneuve’s immortal story. + +The waiter, conscious of the new attraction that was to make his +dining-room picture perfect, stopped at a table in the corner and pulled +back a chair with an unconscious flourish. + +“Your table, ma-dame!” Then real regret tinged his tone: “It was all we +had.” + +A startled look leaped to the eyes of the woman; died on the instant. +Her tone was merely casual as she asked: + +“You got the reservation--how long ago?” + +“A scant ten minutes, ma-dame.” + +She turned her great eyes on the little man, and in her voice as she +spoke was the lilt of badinage. “And you were to telephone an hour ago, +Pierre?” she censured. Her hand idly moved the napkin on the table. + +But the man did not answer. He had slumped into the chair at the other +side of the small table even before she had made a move toward taking +her own seat. His teeth chewed his ragged moustache-ends. Under the +table his fingers interlocked and twitchingly separated. + +The woman’s opera cloak slipped to the back of the chair, revealing the +white purity of the skin of her shoulders, and the curves of the throat. +She picked up the _carte du jour_ languidly, and a little pout came to +her lips, and a tracery of a scowl appeared on her forehead as she +studied the items. + +“Absinthe, Pierre, and a cup of bouillon?” she smiled. + +The man nodded. + +“Only the bouillon for me.” + +A slight inclination of her head dismissed the waiter, and he hurried +away. The woman rested an elbow on the table-edge and leaned forward. +The wonderful smile still curved her lips, but the voice was hard as +flint as she whispered in sibilant Italian:-- + +“Stop it, you fool of a coward!” + +His tongue touched his lips. “It has found us!” he muttered chokingly, +and the language he used was Russian. + +“Hasn’t it always found us?” she demanded hissingly, but the expression +on her face changed not a bit. “Hasn’t it always been on our heels? But +have I not laughed at it for years? Laugh!” The last word came like the +lash of a whip through the smiling lips. + +The man’s throat twitched, his face contorted, and a tremulous parody of +laughter came. + +“Hideous!” she snapped. “Pitiful ape of a man! Stop it!” + +“We cannot all be creatures of steel and stone!” he muttered, in the +curious patois of northern Hungary. + +“We can all act! We can play our parts! Be a gay boulevardier of Paris +with the false courage of the green poison in the water of your veins!” +She spoke vehemently, and her words were the words of the Gascony +peasant. + +She turned her gracious smile on the waiter as he appeared with the +bouillon and the absinthe for the little man. + +“We shall order again presently,” she said, in her perfect English, and +the serving-man backed away. + +Without touching the folded napkin, she took a sip of the bouillon. Her +eyes, pin-points of fire under the shade of the long lashes, watched the +man take up the glass of dull-green liquor and drain it at a gulp. The +fire died from her eyes as they saw the faint flush of colour come to +the yellow skin of the man and the steadiness of the hand that put the +empty glass on the cloth. + +“Ah,” she murmured, in liquid Spanish, her eyes fixed fondly on the face +of the little man. “My Pierre is himself again. Sip of your bouillon, my +dear.” + +The little man obeyed her meekly. “The gaming-table has played the devil +with my nerves,” he growled. + +“But they are strong once more. See!” Her fingers lifted the folded +napkin and laid it on her knee. The man leaned forward to stare at the +white tablecloth it had covered. A gasping whistle of indrawn breath +came from his lips. On the white linen beside the woman’s bouillon cup +were five smudges of gold; prints of the finger and thumb tips of a +right hand. + +“The sign of the Gilded Glove!” he choked, and the colour went from his +face. + +“Cease staring, owl of a man!” she commanded in Italian. “Have you not +seen the sign before? Do the wrecked nerves of the _rouge et noir_ table +need another franc’s worth of green heart? Summon the waiter.” + +With a doglike shake of his body the man threw off the fear that gripped +him. He touched his empty glass. The woman gave another order, and the +waiter hurried away. Then the man’s eyes were drawn again to the five +spots of gold. + +“The finger prints of warning, the crushed glove of sentence, the +clutched glove of death!” He repeated it as though it were a lesson +that, once learned, was never to be forgotten. + +“But have they not always been at _my_ side?” she asked quietly. “In +Paris, in Constantinople, in Budapest, in St. Petersburg, have I not +seen them always by my side? Yet I live! Should I fear in New York, when +I have escaped in Europe, where the Long Arm sweeps everything?” + +The waiter returned with the absinthe. The little man took the glass up +slowly, sipped part of the liquor, and set it down. A glance from the +eyes of the woman rewarded him. + +“Does my Pierre see any one who might wear the Gilded Glove?” she asked. + +His small eyes roved around the dining-room, gazing intently at every +face. He shook his head. “They are all Americans; men of wood and women +of china. Asses all!” The heavy gutturals of the German he now used made +even more incongruous the puniness of his body. + +She nodded. “Those who so carefully reserved the table that we might see +the sign have gone,” she said, “and other ears cannot follow our +talking.” + +The man caught a glimpse of some one his eyes had missed before; he +moved a trifle to the left, to see behind a great pillar in a far corner +of the room. + +“Your blind friend is eating his midnight meal of bread and beef-gravy,” +he said. + +“Mr. Colton?” There was a new tone in the voice now, and the man +instantly recognised it. + +“A blind man?” There was a sneer in the words. + +“I fear him!” she whispered. “He is the only man on earth I have ever +feared. He is the only man on earth I know I cannot deceive. All the +things I have--my beauty, my nerves of steel, my acting, are to him as +nothing. They delude only men of keen eyes! The American secret agents +who watch us are fools, but he----.” + +“Bah! A blind pig of an American!” he sneered again. It was the man +whose nerve was perfect now; it was the woman who was unstrung. + +“His blindness makes me afraid!” She was talking passionately in French. +“Minds that are closed to all the world are an open book to him. I know +it!” + +“You think he knows of the plans; of our going away to-morrow?” The +voice was sarcastic, but the words came slowly, haltingly, droned in the +dialect of the lower Yang-tse-Kiang River. + +“I know not!” she whispered, in purest Japanese. “He may; he may not. +But no mistake have I ever made in a man!” + +“Then hide your fear,” warned the man. “He has emptied his last glass of +Célestin, and is coming toward this table.” + +The woman’s hand fluttered tremulously toward her throat; but in an +instant she was her calm, collected self. As she ate, and talked French +commonplaces to the little man, she watched the approach of Thornley +Colton from the corner of her eyes. She saw the white hair that curled +and waved from the pink scalp; the wonderful paleness of the face that +was brought out strikingly by the great round lenses of the smoked-glass +library spectacles with their tortoise-shell rims. She knew that the +eyes behind them had been sightless from birth; yet the strides of the +approaching man through the winding aisle of tables were long and +confident. Not a false move did he make, stepping aside at just the +proper moment to avoid hurrying waiters, halting a second to let a +nimble omnibus pass; never once turning to ask a question of the +black-haired, apple-cheeked man who followed at his heels. + +At the table he stopped, a smile of pleasure lighting his pale, strong +face, as he extended his hand. “A delightful surprise, Madame Gorski!” +he said, with quiet enthusiasm. “Sydney told me that you were here, but +I could scarcely credit my good fortune. When is the next of your +marvellous recitals to be?” + +The woman’s smile of joy and surprise as she took his hand had been +wonderful in its perfection, and as she answered his last question, no +human ear could have detected the lie behind the words: “In a few days, +M’seur Colton. You are an inspiration. One seldom finds so appreciative +a person. My husband thinks them frightful affairs.” + +“But Monsieur Gorski is not blind,” smiled Colton, as he took the hand +of the little man. “Music is the only beautiful thing we of the darkness +have, you know. Eyes can see God’s wonderful creations and the beautiful +things man’s hands have wrought. We can only hear.” + +A tender look of genuine sympathy came to the eyes of Madame Gorski. +“Won’t you sit down and talk?” she invited. + +She saw Thornley Colton’s hand go to his vest-pocket, and she knew that +the supersensitive finger-tips were feeling the face of the crystalless +watch he carried. + +He shook his head. “It is twelve-forty,” he apologised. “I make it my +invariable rule to be in bed at one.” He stepped back regretfully. +“Pardon me,” he said suddenly, “your napkin has fallen to the floor.” He +leaned over quickly, picked it up, and put it on the end of the table. +“Au revoir.” He smiled again, and with a nod to the silent Sydney +Thames, who had merely bowed to the man and the woman, he started +between the tables towards the entrance of the dining-room. + +The woman’s eyes followed him. When he had disappeared through the door +she turned to her husband. “A wonderful man!” she murmured. “Wonderful!” +She expected a sneer, but her husband was staring at the crumpled-up +napkin Thornley Colton had picked up. + +“You say he is blind!” he hissed, in French. + +She nodded, puzzled. + +“Then how did he know your napkin had fallen? Can he hear the fall of +linen on velvet? Can he?” + +She reached toward the napkin, lifted a corner as she pulled it toward +her; then withdrew her hand suddenly. In the crumpled-up folds of the +linen both had seen the dull glint of gilt; both knew that concealed in +the napery was a crushed, gilded glove! + +“The sentence!” choked the man. + +The woman lifted her eyes to the door through which Thornley Colton had +passed a few minutes before. “Can he be one of the sinews of the Long +Arm?” she murmured: “A man like that!” + +Her fingers toyed with her fork a moment. “Pay the check, Pierre,” she +said finally, and there was a note of hopelessness in her voice. “We +will go home. I am tired.” + +The admiring eyes that had watched the woman enter followed her as she +left the room. The face, calm, patrician, was beautiful; and the long +lashes hid the look in the deep, brown eyes. In the taxi seat she +relaxed; the beautiful face held an expression of utter weariness. The +little man’s hand touched her shoulder reverently, caressingly. + +“Do not falter now, _ma chère_,” he murmured. “To-morrow we will have +the plans of the harbour mines and the hundred thousand dollars they +will bring. We will go far away, then, out of reach of the Long Arm and +its glove of gilt.” + +“To-morrow,” she breathed softly, and she touched his cheek with her +lips. She was a woman, was Hedwig Gorski, strange, unreadable. Her heart +was a woman’s heart, and grim-lipped men in a hundred cities knew that +she loved this little caricature of a man. A smile came to her lips. +“Yes,” she whispered, in low-voiced Russian, “to-morrow we will be +through with it all.” + +At the big hotel where they stopped the woman commanded the same +admiration; the man the same derisive smiles. But they did not see. In +their apartment on the thirteenth floor, whose door was watched night +and day by the floor clerks they had bribed to see that no one entered, +the woman sank into a big chair beside the table. The man snapped on the +lights in every room, and peered into every corner. “No one has +entered,” he announced, when he had seen that every window still held +the screws he had driven through the frames the first hour they had +occupied the apartments. + +“Leave me a few minutes, _mon cher_,” the woman said, and she pulled his +head down to kiss him. “I must think--alone.” + +Obediently, doglike, he went out into the hall and turned the key in the +lock behind him. The woman sighed. She rose and went to the small +cabinet, took from it a bottle of wine and a glass. She started to pour +the liquor; then shook her head. + +“Poison,” she whispered. “That would be their only chance. I can’t risk +it.” She went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water, rinsing the +glass under the stream until the water was almost boiling. Then she +filled the glass to the brim under the cold-water tap, drained it. She +walked slowly back to the room, switched off the lights, and seated +herself again in the big chair. + +The minutes passed. The woman never moved; her eyes stared unwaveringly +into the darkness before her. And from out the dark a gilded hand came +slowly, certainly. It touched the throat of the woman. Hedwig Gorski did +not move. The fingers of gold tightened. + +Outside the door came the voice of Gorski: “Do you wish anything, +Hedwig, _ma chère_?” + +And from the darkness came the voice of his wife: “_Non_, Pierre, _mon +cher_.” + +But neither the eyes nor the lips of the woman, nor yet the gilded +fingers, had moved. + +Silence. The man’s voice called again. There was no answer. Shaking, he +unlocked the door and entered the room. A curtain that had been pulled +to the bottom of the window was up now. A shaft of moonlight shone on +the woman’s face--a dead face. At her throat a golden hand seemed +clutched. But he came nearer, and saw that it was an empty, gilded +glove. And in the air of the room was the faint odour of crushed +bananas. + + + II. + +The little French clock had just chimed the hour of three when the +tinkling telephone-bell waked Thornley Colton. He reached forth a hand +to the crystalless watch on the small table at his bed-side and +whistled. The bell jingled again. He threw a bath robe over his +shoulders and went into the library. + +He answered the inquiring voice instantly: “Good morning, Mr. Ames. +Certainly. I will be ready in ten minutes.” + +For a minute after he had hung up the receiver he stood in the darkness, +his sightless eyes fixed on the mouthpiece of the instrument. Then he +went into Sydney Thames’s room and touched him lightly on the shoulder. +“Get dressed,” he said quietly, but the apple-cheeked secretary saw the +grim, ominous lines that were around the thin lips. “Ames, of the +diplomatic secret service, will be here in fifteen minutes. Madame +Gorski has been murdered.” + +“Murdered!” The emotional, highly-strung Thames echoed the word in +horror. + +“Yes.” Still that tone of quiet certainty. “An hour or so ago, I should +judge. We will probably go down to the hotel. Hustle!” he admonished +again, as he hurried from the room. + +In less than ten minutes Thornley Colton, fully dressed, and smoking a +cigarette, was seated in the library awaiting the coming of the secret +agent. The door-bell rang, and he rose to answer it. + +He stopped in the hall, when his superkeen ears caught the patter of +bare feet on the carpet. “Go back to bed, Shrimp,” he ordered. + +“Gee, is it a case, Mister Colton?” The wide-eyed boy, with the +fiery-red hair, the multitude of freckles, and the slightly-twisted +nose, asked the question eagerly. His hands literally trembled with +anticipation as they fumbled with the front of his purple pyjama coat. + +“Yes.” Thornley Colton’s lip curved in a slight smile, and he patted the +boy’s shoulder fondly. “But you can do nothing to-night. Go back to bed, +and to-morrow there may be some real detective work for you to do.” + +“Gosh, I hope so!” the boy exclaimed fervently; then his voice became +almost wistful: “Gee, Mister Colton. I wisht youh’d let me get in a case +where there was real Nick Carter stuff; blackjacks, an’ assaults, an’ +stuff like that.” + +“You’ve got a long life before you, Shrimp,” smiled the blind man, as he +started downstairs to answer the second ring of the bell. + +The man who entered had his rain-coat buttoned up to his chin, and the +brim of his soft hat came down to the eyes that gleamed from under it. + +Colton bowed gravely. “Rather an early-morning call, Mr. Ames.” + +The gimlet eyes of the secret agent were fixed on his pale face, seeming +to bore and probe into the very soul of the blind man. “Mind telling me +how you knew my name?” he asked. “To my knowledge we have never met +before.” + +“I think we never have.” The grave smile still curved Thornley Colton’s +thin lips. “But I never forget a voice I have once heard. I heard yours +several years ago, when I was trying to solve the puzzle of the missing +Villers code book. The diplomatic service was somewhat interested in +that case, I believe.” + +“So you’re that man!” There was new respect in the tone, and the eyes of +the secret agent gleamed brighter. + +“A lucky touch of the fingers found the solution of the case,” explained +Colton modestly. “If you will come up to my library we can talk more +comfortably.” He turned and ascended the stairs. + +Sydney Thames was already in the library, and Thornley Colton introduced +him. “My secretary, Mr. Ames.” He seemed to sense the other’s desire for +a private conversation, and added: “My eyes, also.” + +The secret agent accepted the presence of a third person, and took off +his rain-coat. Seated in a big chair, which a gesture of the blind man’s +arm had indicated, he asked his first question abruptly, curtly:-- + +“Mr. Colton, what do you know about Hedwig Gorski?” + +A thin ribbon of blue smoke rose from the blind man’s lips. He seemed to +watch the smoke waver ceilingward before he answered: “I think she is +one of the most remarkable women I have ever met. There is no subject +she cannot discuss intelligently. She speaks all languages, apparently, +and she is the only woman I ever met who can interpret Grieg properly. +In fact, I would consider her the most accomplished and wonderful +international spy I ever met.” + +Ames straightened in his chair as though he had been suddenly jabbed +with a pin. “How did you know that?” he demanded. + +“By a process of elimination made necessary by lack of eyes. I sought an +introduction to Madame Gorski after I had heard her husband address her +in the Cantonese dialect. I spent several years in China, and, +naturally, I was interested. And her _musicales_ have been wonderful +affairs--wonderful, and food for considerable thought!” he finished +musingly. + +“You know that she is dead--murdered?” + +“Your visit at this hour could mean nothing else. I have known for some +time that Madame Gorski feared something. I have known also that she was +constantly watched.” + +For a minute there was silence in the room. Ames took a cigarette from +his case, lighted it, and became absorbed in the spiraling smoke. Sydney +Thames, silent, as always, sat back to listen. The secret agent reached +his decision and spoke:-- + +“Mr. Colton, I came here with a different plan of procedure in my mind. +I’m going to be frank. For months we have known that negotiations have +been going on with a foreign government to obtain possession of the +secret naval plans of the harbour mines in New York harbour. When you +understand that those planted electrical mines are the only real +safeguard against the invasion of the greatest city in America, you will +know just what they are worth. We know Hedwig Gorski came to this +country to get them--from whom we have never been able to discover. But +we have watched every movement, opened every line of mail she has +received, and have not been able to find a single clue. For a month my +wife and I have occupied an apartment in the hotel directly opposite the +Gorski rooms. We have been on guard day and night, as have the floor +clerks we learned that she had bribed. This morning at one-twenty-five +Hedwig Gorski and her husband returned to their apartment. They went in, +lighted every light, and I know they were examining everything to see +whether or not the rooms had been entered. In a few minutes Gorski came +out, locked the door, and began pacing up and down before it. This was +something new, and we watched him curiously. He called. His wife +answered cheerily in French. Ten minutes later he called again. There +was no answer. He unlocked the door and stumbled in. I was at his heels. +Madame Gorski was dead in her chair. At her throat was an empty gilded +glove--like a hand of gold that had strangled her.” + +“A gilded glove.” Colton repeated it without incredulity or surprise in +his voice; merely as the verification of a known fact. + +“You know of the Gilded Glove?” asked the secret agent quickly. + +“Yes. My world wanderings have taken me to Russia. The glove has always +had a peculiar significance. In China two thousand years ago a glove was +always given to make legal the transfer of land. The custom was also in +vogue among the ancient Egyptians and Phœnicians. In the correct literal +translations of the Bible the word ‘glove’ is found instead of ‘shoe’ in +the fourth chapter of Ruth, and in the one hundred and eighth Psalm.” + +Ames nodded, and the blind man went on: “Twenty years ago a certain +Russian order first used the gilded glove as a death sign for traitors +to the government. With a love of the significant that only the true +Oriental mind has--and the mind of the Russian is all Oriental--the +gilded glove was left at the throat of persons who transferred their +allegiance for gold.” + +“That is right,” corroborated Ames. “Hedwig Gorski and her husband were +the greatest spies Russia had. Then, for some unknown reason, they went +into the service of another country. And for five years she has laughed +at the Gilded Glove and its wearers, who have been constantly on her +trail.” Again he smoked in silence for a few minutes, his eyes fixed on +the ceiling. “You seem to know a whole lot about this thing, Mr. +Colton,” he said frankly. “I’d like you to come with me to the hotel. +When I entered the room, Gorski, who is a little rat, and heaven only +knows how a woman like Hedwig could love him, was absolutely insane. He +moaned and cried without seeing me for several minutes. When he did, he +accused _you_ of the murder!” + +“Accused----” Sydney Thames half rose in his chair and flopped back into +it with a gasp of amazed horror. + +Thornley Colton’s face had not a flicker of expression. “Yes?” he said +politely. + +The gimlet eyes of the secret agent went ceilingward once more. “He +muttered something about his wife having always feared you--which is the +highest compliment that could possibly come from a woman like Hedwig +Gorski. He also babbled something about your not being blind because you +had seen his wife’s napkin fall to the floor, and that, when you put it +on the table, its folds concealed a crushed gilded glove--the sentence +of death. He swears that you couldn’t have heard the napkin fall on the +velvet carpet.” + +“The napkin had not fallen,” Colton said evenly. “I pulled it from +Madame Gorski’s knees as I leaned over to pick up the crushed gilt glove +I knew was on the carpet by her chair.” His fingers felt the crystalless +watch in his pocket. “If you don’t mind,” he apologised, “I’d like to +get down to the hotel as soon as possible. The most valuable clue, I +think, will disappear shortly.” + +Ames opened his mouth, then closed it. “My taxi is waiting at the door,” +he said quietly, as he picked up his rain-coat. “I warned the hotel +manager that the police were not to be notified until I gave permission. +Even the murder is of secondary importance to finding a clue to the +damned traitor who is going to sell those harbour plans!” + +“A human life, to me, is a wonderful thing,” murmured Colton, as he +slipped into his overcoat and took the thin cane that gave its messages +to his supersensitive finger-tips. There was unconscious rebuke in his +tone. + +It was not until they were in the taxi, well on their way down, that the +silence was broken. Then Ames spoke again. “I’ll frankly admit that the +murder is a most wonderful piece of work. I went over every inch of the +rooms while Gorski was gibbering. The door is absolutely the only +entrance, and I know they looked over the apartment pretty thoroughly. +Gorski could not have done it, even if he had the nerve. I heard his +wife answer him. I couldn’t see a thing!” + +In the darkness Colton nodded. “I don’t think this will be a case where +eyes will be of much use,” he said quietly. + +The taxi stopped at the entrance of the big hotel, and they went through +the lobby without exciting comment or receiving a single stare. The news +of the murder had not been allowed to get downstairs. But a man +lounging, half asleep, in a leather chair, made a slight signal that +Ames understood. The secret-service agents had covered the hotel, and +were working in a dozen different places. + +As the three men entered the Gorski apartment, Monsieur Gorski rose from +his chair with a half-suppressed scream of rage. “Murderer!” he hissed, +in French. “Murderer!” + +A heavy hand forced him back, and an apologetic voice came to the ears +of Thornley Colton. + +“He’s been ravin’ that way for an hour, Mister Colton,” put in the +red-faced man at Gorski’s side. + +“Good morning, Joe,” Colton greeted the house detective. + +The white-faced manager of the hotel, who had stood back, nervously +biting his finger-nails, came forward. “We must notify the police, Mr. +Ames,” he protested. “I have obeyed your instructions, but if they ever +know----” The manager left unspoken the horrible possibilities, but his +whole manner cried them aloud. + +“You can notify them in a very few minutes, Mr. Jones,” the blind man’s +voice cut in curtly. He went to the side of the dead woman unerringly. A +faint flush seemed to mount to his pale cheeks; his thin nostrils +quivered like those of a hound on the scent. Almost reverently he +touched the cheek of Hedwig Gorski. His fingers, light as wind-blown +thistledown, brushed the beautiful cold skin under the eyes, then down +to the throat, stopping short before reaching the five finger-marks of +gold that were deep in the flesh. The gilded glove was on the table, +where it had fallen as soon as Gorski had touched it. The blind man +seemed not even aware of its existence. + +“Have you a glass, Mr. Ames?” asked the problemist, and there was +unintentional curtness in his tone. Thornley Colton’s whole mind was on +the case before him; nothing else existed. + +The secret agent took a magnifying glass from his pocket. + +“Look at the gilt finger-prints!” ordered the blind man, as his two +hands lifted the woman’s arms. “Are the prints cleanly cut, sharp?” + +“Not a single blur!” announced Ames, raising his eyes. “She never moved +a muscle after those fingers clutched her throat.” + +“Ah!” Quiet triumph was in the blind man’s voice. “Madame Gorski was +poisoned!” + +“Poisoned!” It seemed that every one in the room echoed it. The clutched +glove at the throat, the deep graven finger-prints of gilt had seemed to +point to but one thing. + +“Yes. No hand of that size could have sufficient strength to keep the +woman from moving and blurring the gilt prints that were put there with +another gilt glove worn on the hand of the murderer. The wearer of the +gilt glove would not overlook a detail. He probably carried the other +glove in a box so that its shape would not be lost, and fitted it to the +prints after. It is the usual way.” + +“The bottle and the glass!” Ames took a step nearer, but Colton’s hand +picked up the glass beside the tall wine-bottle. He stepped away from +the table, and raised the glass to his lips; held it there for several +seconds. + +“Hedwig Gorski did not drink from this glass!” + +“Why? How do you know that?” Ames gasped it. + +“Because it was put there by the man whose gloved hand made those marks +on Madame Gorski’s throat after she was dead.” + +“Bah!” The expletive came in a snarling sneer from the dead woman’s +husband. “You think my wonderful Hedwig a fool? She would drink of no +wine that had been unguarded all evening! I heard her in the bathroom +washing the glass for one, two, three minutes. If she drank she drank +fresh water.” + +“How long after you heard the water running did she answer you?” asked +Colton; and even in his sightless eyes there seemed to come a light. + +“Five, six, seven, ten minutes. Ten minutes,” repeated the husband, with +sullen positiveness. + +“As long as that?” + +“Yes.” + +“Where is the bathroom, Sydney?” snapped Colton. The muscles under the +skin of his lean jaws played back and forth. He was tense as a hound in +leash. + +“Five steps to the right, half turn,” Sydney answered mechanically, his +eyes judging the distance instantly because of years of practice. + +Colton darted inside. He turned on the hot water and bent down so that +his face was not an inch away from the running stream. He did the same +thing when he had turned the cold-water tap. + +“The devilish ingenuity of it!” They heard him mutter as he straightened +up. + +“What is it?” Again Ames asked the question. Student of men as his work +had made him, Ames had realised, minutes before, that he was in the +presence of a man who would lead always; he understood that he was but a +pupil before a master. + +“They knew Madame Gorski was too clever to be poisoned in any ordinary +way. They knew that she would even suspect the presence of poison in an +empty glass, and would wash any glass, under the hot-water tap, before +she drank, because the heat would dissolve any poison. They knew, also, +that if she wanted a drink it would be of cold water, fresh from the +tap. The poison, a paste of peculiar odour that my keen sense of smell +instantly detected, is smeared on the inside of the cold-water faucet. +The minute it was turned, the stream that flowed was almost pure +poison!” + +“Good God!” came the horror-stricken voice of the hotel manager. + +“But there must have been some one here to make those marks and leave +the gilded glove,” put in Ames. + +“Where is the clothes-closet?” Colton asked. + +The secret agent hurried into the bedroom that adjoined the room of +death. Colton was at his heels, the slim, hollow cane locating every +piece of furniture as he passed. Ames opened the door of a closet full +of clothes, and stepped inside. Colton stood at the threshold, his head +bent forward, apparently peering intently into the depths of the closet. + +“Another?” he asked curtly. + +In the other bedroom was a huge wardrobe. Ames opened it, and again the +blind man seemed to look into every corner of it. “The murderer hid in +there behind the clothes! Take some of them out and you’ll find flecks +of gilt from the glove he wore!” + +The secret agent grabbed an armful and threw them on the bed, with no +regard for their mussing. He pawed them over. His eyes found what they +sought, and he uttered a shout of triumph. “Here they are! On the +Inverness and this black evening gown!” Then awe came to his voice. “How +did you know that?” he asked. “How could you know it--and blind?” + +“Because I am blind. Because my other senses are abnormally developed to +recompense the loss of sight. I knew the murderer had hidden in the +closet; I knew the gilt from the glove he wore on his hand would come +off on the clothes that concealed him, just as I knew the glass on the +table was not the one Madame Gorski had used, and just as I knew the +crushed glove was at her feet in the restaurant--because I have a sense +of smell that is more than doubly acute. Wherever there is gilt there is +banana oil. It is always used in gilding, and its odour is unmistakable. +I knew of the men of the Gilded Glove, and I suspected that Madame +Gorski feared it. When my nostrils caught the odour and located it at +the floor beside her chair, I knew instantly what it meant. I covered it +with the napkin so that people would not stare. I wanted her to see it +so that she might be warned. The glass on the table has the banana-oil +odour because the murderer placed it there with the hand that still +smelled of the oil with which the soft kid of the glove had become +saturated. The smell was also in the wardrobe. Simple, isn’t it?” A +mirthless smile curved his thin lips. Thornley Colton could not forget +that in the next room was the body of the woman killed by the hand that +left its trail so faintly that only his blindness enabled him to follow +it. + +“Where are the windows?” Colton asked sharply, before any one had a +chance to say a word. + +“In the next room, overlooking the street.” + +“Show them to me.” + +Ames hurried back to the sitting-room. The hotel manager still bit his +finger-nails. The husband of the woman who was dead had buried his face +in his hands, and was sobbing. The eyes of the hotel detective were +fixed on Colton, following his every movement, in them a look of +wondering admiration. + +The blind man’s feeling fingers examined every inch of the casements +that overlooked busy Broadway, thirteen storeys below. “Nothing here,” +he said, when he had finished. “There must be another window!” + +“Only a small one, in the bathroom, that overlooks an air-shaft,” the +secret agent informed him. + +Colton turned and darted into the bathroom. “This is the one!” Once more +his exploring fingers went over every inch. + +“But that hasn’t been touched. Not a screw has been loosened,” declared +Ames positively. + +“No, there hasn’t been a screw touched. The murderer was too clever for +that, but he wasn’t clever enough to get the banana-oil smell from his +fingers. The entire pane was taken out by cutting away the putty, and +probably put back with triangular tin tacks that would never be noticed +through the frosted glass.” + +“That’s a mighty small opening,” Ames said slowly. + +“The murderer must have been small, and as active as a cat. Also----” +Colton did not finish; he stepped out of the bathroom. “Who has the +rooms directly over this one?” he asked the manager. + +“They have no occupants yet,” hesitated the nervous Mr. Jones. + +“When were they coming? Who were they?” The questions came sharply, +crisply. + +“A couple from Philadelphia, who telegraphed to have them reserved. They +had occupied them once before, and liked them.” + +“Clever,” muttered the blind man. “They wouldn’t take a chance of +occupying them, but were going to see to it that they were empty when +wanted. Let’s look at them.” + +“But what am I going to do?” began the nerve-frayed manager. “The +police----” + +“Notify them.” + +Colton gave the permission grimly; then a look of compassion came to his +face as he seemed aware of the presence of Monsieur Gorski for the first +time. He took a step toward him; then halted. He could do nothing--now. + +“Joe?” he said softly. The house detective glanced at the inert figure +of the man, and came forward. “When the police come, let them arrest +Gorski,” Colton whispered. “He will be safe in their hands, and God +knows he isn’t safe from that band of gilt-handed devils anywhere else. +It will only be a short time before the real murderer is found.” + +The house detective nodded. “It’ll be best that way,” he admitted. + +“Show us the rooms!” ordered Colton; then, as the manager hesitated: +“Let Joe telephone police headquarters from here,” he advised shortly. + +With Ames and Sydney at his heels, he followed the manager to the floor +above. The minute the lights were snapped on in the apartment, Ames ran +to the open bathroom window. In a heap on the floor under it was a thin, +strong rope. Beside it were fragments of what had been a wine flask, and +an empty pasteboard box, with the inside smeared with gilt--the one in +which the gilt glove found at the woman’s throat had been carried to +prevent its handling. And under the bath-tub was thrown another glove of +gilt, with most of the gold worn off the inside of the fingers. + +“Good Lord!” gasped Ames eagerly. “There’s clues enough here!” + +“Too many!” declared Colton tersely. He turned to the manager. “Who has +the apartments opposite this?” + +“A German family,” the head of the hotel answered, as a pupil to a +teacher. + +“How many?” + +“Three. A big, bearded man and his wife, and a gawky boy. They’ve been +here a week.” + +“The boy! Describe him!” + +“Well,” began the manager nervously. “He’s about seventeen, I should +judge, but small. He’s awkward, and speaks the rottenest English I ever +heard in the darndest, squeakiest voice. Seems to like to listen to +people, though, and he’s always sitting around the lobby gaping at the +guests.” + +“I want to see him!” Colton’s voice had a new note, dominant, +compelling. + +“At this hour?” stammered the manager. + +“Now!” + +Ames, attracted by the tone and the words, came from the bathroom. + +“What is it?” he asked eagerly. + +“The man who murdered Madame Gorski.” + +“Where?” + +“I don’t know--now.” Thornley Colton spoke the words over his shoulder, +for he was following the manager out of the room. A knock at the door +across the hall brought no response. Colton pushed the manager aside, +and, with his horrified protest unheeded, opened the unlocked door. A +snap of the fights under Ames’ fingers, and the men saw that the rooms +were empty. But in the air was a strong smell of banana oil. + +“The floor clerk!” demanded Colton, and the manager went meekly to get +him. + +Ames was everywhere, rummaging, prying with practiced fingers into every +drawer, every closet. Each piece of clothing he pulled out was examined +with lightning-moving fingers. He picked the lock of the big trunk, and +cursed when the opened lid revealed only cloth-wrapped stones. But in +the bottom was an overturned bottle that had once held gilt. + +“The glove had just been gilded,” guessed the secret agent. + +The floor clerk entered, visibly nervous. + +“When did the German boy return here to-night?” asked Colton. + +“About twelve-thirty.” + +“Alone?” + +“Yes.” + +“Were his mother and father in the room?” + +The floor clerk scratched his head. “I didn’t see them come in, but I +heard them giving the kid the very devil. They raised an awful row.” He +grinned at the recollection. + +“Ah!” The blind man’s tone held quiet satisfaction. “And an hour or so +later the boy slipped out, saying that his mother and father were +asleep, and he was going downstairs to watch the people for a while.” + +“Yes.” There was amazement written all over the hotel clerk’s face. + +Colton turned to face Ames. “The bird has flown,” he said quietly. “He +is the one who entered Madame Gorski’s rooms, put the poison in the tap +and the glove at her throat. For a week the three have been waiting +their opportunity. To-night all was ready. The father and mother left +early in the evening, and did not return. They, or another accomplice, +dropped the glove at Madame Gorski’s chair in passing, expecting her to +look down and see it. The waiter probably kicked it so near her chair +that she couldn’t have noticed it if the smell of the banana oil hadn’t +made me find it.” + +“But the clerk heard the father and mother talking?” protested Ames. “He +didn’t see them go out, and,” he added, “there are several of my men +around who would have stopped them instantly.” + +“No one left that room but the boy!” There was no gainsaying the +positiveness in the floor clerk’s tone. + +The grim smile came again to Thornley Colton’s lips. “When I learned +that Madame Gorski had answered her husband _ten minutes_ after he had +heard the water running, and she must have taken the poison, I began to +suspect the true facts. A poison that left no signs of agony must have +killed quickly and painlessly. It wasn’t her voice monsieur heard at +all! It was the voice of a wonderful mimic; the mimic who made the floor +clerk believe that his mother and father were scolding him in this room. +And who would stop a gawky German boy? You have his description. Put +your men at work.” He rose. “Come, Sydney, it is time for breakfast.” + +The secret agent took his hand and shook it fervently. “I can’t tell you +how I thank you,” he said, and there was genuine feeling in his voice. +“But I will see that Washington recognises this night’s work of yours.” + +Once more the mirthless smile that had been in evidence so often that +night came to his lips. “I want no recognition,” he said slowly. “I +merely want to avenge the death of the most wonderful woman I ever met. +There is nothing half so precious as the life of a woman, or a child.” + +He bowed gravely. Silently he and Sydney walked to the elevator and into +the lobby. Halfway out Thornley Colton stopped. + +“I want to telephone the house, Sydney. There’s a foolish fear in my +mind that I can’t throw off.” He went into the telephone-booth. When he +emerged a minute later, there was a look on his face that Sydney Thames +had never seen before; a look terrible in its earnestness. + +“Do you believe in presentiments, Sydney?” The blind man’s voice was +calm, even. He gave his secretary no chance to answer. “I have just had +one come true. John found five finger-smudges of gold on the white +table-cloth in the dining-room, and Shrimp has disappeared absolutely!” + + + III. + +Thornley Colton paced the floor of his library with long, tigerish +strides. His head was bowed, and over his eyes the lines of +concentration had deepened in the hours of the long day. His fingers +touched the face of the crystalless watch in his pocket. + +“Three o’clock,” he muttered. He turned to the desk and its telephone; +stretched forth a hand, withdrew it, and shook his head. Again his +strides covered the length of the room; across and back, across and +back. + +He lifted his head eagerly--lowered it. The steps his superkeen ears had +heard were only those of Sydney Thames, as he left his bedroom on the +floor above. + +“Any news yet, Thorn?” asked the apple-cheeked secretary as he entered. +The blind man shook his head. + +“Nothing,” he said quietly. He took a half-turn around the room, then +suddenly wheeled to face the silent Thames. “If anything happens to that +boy, Sydney, I swear to God I’ll punish those responsible!” The voice, +always so calm, so unstirred by any inner feeling, now trembled with +fierce passion. The blind man seemed to realise that the mask he had +cultivated so carefully for years had dropped; for his tone was even as +he continued: “I thought when I took him that I could give him the real +life he had been denied. But I understand now that I was only bringing +him to take the risks that have never caused me a second thought. I +realise now the dozens of times I have sent him into places of danger, +merely to satisfy my own conceit; to enable me to beat some one else on +a baffling case. Now he is gone! All my vaunted powers are useless, and +I’m as much at sea as the veriest tyro. A problemist? I!” His voice +vibrated with scorn and self-denunciation. + +“You are in no way to blame!” defended Sydney Thames instantly. + +Colton turned again on his heel. “I’m as guilty as hell!” he declared +vehemently. “Why do you suppose John or the other servants heard no +noise? Do you think it was because the man who murdered Madame Gorski, +the man who made those glove prints downstairs, overcame Shrimp so +easily and so quietly? No! It was because of the training I have given +the boy; training to be instantly on the alert to follow, to shadow, to +discover; training that no boy should have had. Shrimp, sent brusquely +to bed by me, couldn’t sleep. What boy could? But I didn’t understand. I +only looked at it from my side. He probably heard the man who entered. +Instead of raising an alarm as a normal person would, he probably +followed him outside. Then----” His hands spread wide before him in a +gesture of helplessness. + +This was a side of Thornley Colton that Sydney Thames had never seen +before; a new side, a human side. He understood now the deep love for +the undersized, red-haired boy with the twisted nose that was in the +heart of the blind man. He hadn’t understood the depths of Colton’s +feelings when the blind man had gone through the house calmly when they +returned to search for clues. He hadn’t suspected that there was +anything but the cold, analytical love of a problem in the cool voice +that had put ten thousand police in the big city on the trail of the +missing boy. Nor had he understood the cool way Thornley Colton had +directed Ames and his squad of underground diplomatic workers to rake +the city with a fine-tooth comb for the murderer of Hedwig Gorski. No, +he hadn’t understood then. Through it all Colton had been the same +dominant, emotionless machine, directing, suggesting, issuing curt +orders. + +But the hours of inaction had done their work. For the first time in his +life the problemist was completely at sea. The signs he had read so +unerringly a hundred times before; signs that were usually hidden from +men of eyes, were missing in this new development of the Gorski case. +The man who had left the finger-prints of the gilded glove had +apparently entered with a key, for there was not a scratch on a window +or door. He had touched nothing but the white table-cloth, for there was +not a trace of the banana oil anywhere else. There was nothing, +absolutely nothing, to tell a fact about the disappearance of The Fee. +He was gone. That was all. And Thornley Colton could do nothing but +wait. His blindness made him helpless now. + +The telephone-bell rang, and Colton sprang to answer it. The eager +expression died from his face as the voice of the secret agent came over +the wire. + +“No trace of the boy yet--Ah!--A bundle of manuscript music addressed to +Madame Gorski at the post-office?--No word?--Yes, bring it up to the +house. I think it will fit a theory I have been constructing for some +time. Good-bye.” + +He hung up the receiver wearily, and his voice was tired as he spoke to +Sydney Thames. “Not a word,” he said slowly. “Ames is wholly engrossed +with the search for those harbour-mine plans. That is the big thing to +him. The murder of Madame Gorski and the disappearance of Shrimp are +only incidents.” He resumed his pacing of the room. “It’s another case +like that of the Money Machines, Sydney. Human life and happiness are +pushed aside as unimportant because of a few papers and figures in +lifeless ink.” + +Sydney Thames silently withdrew. He knew that the man who had picked him +up, as a bundle of dirty baby-clothes, on the banks of the English river +that had given him the only name he ever knew, wanted to be alone. So he +left him to his tireless pacing while the wonderful brain behind the +high forehead figured each step in the problem; aligning motives; +testing theories. + +When the front-door bell announced the coming of Ames, Colton seated +himself at the desk, and when the secret agent entered there was no +inkling of the thoughts in the mind of the blind man. + +“There’s absolutely nothing in this,” began Ames apologetically, as he +laid the thick envelope on the desk. “It’s just music, poor stuff, too. +Probably written by some sentimental amateur who has read of Madame +Gorski and her recitals, and wants a criticism.” + +“Such persons usually inclose a long letter of pleading,” remarked +Colton dryly, as he took the thin sheets from the big envelope and ran +his supersensitive finger-tips over the back of the paper to feel the +indentations of the pen. “You have no trace of the boy, yet?” His tone +was almost uninterested, and his finger-tips still brushed the back of +the music sheet. + +“No.” Ames shook his head. “The men are combing the city. Finding the +boy means finding those harbour-mine plans, probably.” + +Colton’s lips tightened. “No, it doesn’t,” he said quietly. “These are +the plans of the location of every electrically-operated mine in the +harbour and bay.” + +“_What!_” Ames fairly shouted the word as he leaped to his feet. He +jumped to the desk and picked up one of the manuscript sheets Colton had +examined and laid aside. As he stared, the expression of incredulity +gave way to one of bewildered puzzlement. “What do you mean?” he +demanded. “There is nothing concealed here. This is straight music.” + +“It would contain some horrible discords if you tried to play it, I +imagine, though it was done by a man who has some knowledge of +composing. But, as you said before, any one with _eyes_ would put that +down as mere amateurishness. Eyes are the greatest handicap pure +eliminative reasoning has. For weeks you have watched Madame Gorski. You +have had men at her _musicales_, and have attended them yourself, no +doubt. To you those wonderful affairs were merely a cloak the woman had +assembled to hide her real purpose for being here. To me they were +something else. They were part of a carefully thought-out plan. She knew +that you were watching her. She knew that every person who approached +her and every bit of her mail would be examined. But who would suspect a +dozen sheets of music manuscript? Who but a blind man!” The faint colour +of excitement was in his cheeks, the lean, cleft jaw was set. “See!” He +turned over the sheet he had examined last. “Every sheet is written in +five flats, yet in this page alone there are more than a dozen sharp +accidentals. Three notes out of five must be played on the black keys. +Every sharp and flat on every sheet denotes the placement of a blind +mine! Look!” He snatched up a pencil from the desk, located the middle +bar in the top staff with his finger-tip, and drew down the paper a +wide, curving line, following the course of his feeling finger, to a +measure in the lower right-hand corner. “Notice,” he observed quietly, +“that not one of the measures the pencil has touched contains either a +sharp or a flat.” + +“The secret naval lane through the outer harbour,” whispered Ames, and +in his voice was the awe that had been there once before. + +“Yes.” Thornley Colton leaned back in his chair. “You know that the +harbour is laid out in half-mile squares, subdivided by smaller squares +of two-hundred-and-eighty-yard mine placements. Take the sheets +numerically, and draw perpendicular parallel lines. Each one of these +will represent the two-hundred-and-eighty-yard square. The measures of +the treble and bass clefs placed directly under each other will make the +half-mile squares. The sheets lettered A, B, C should be laid from left +to right, I imagine, to give the anchorage width. I think a line +following the staccato notes will give the rough shore-line necessary.” +He lighted a cigarette, and his sightless eyes were apparently fixed on +the ceiling, his thoughts far away. + +Ames lifted his eyes from the papers to the impassive face of the blind +man. “My God, Mr. Colton!” he cried, and his voice shook with feeling. +“Do you realise what you’ve done? Do you understand that in ten minutes +you have accomplished a thing that has baulked every secret agent in the +country for months? Do you know that you have kept in the hands of this +country the greatest naval secret we possess”--his voice choked--“the +secret I was about to let slip through my fingers? It means----” + +A wave of the problemist’s hand stopped him. “It means that my boy is +missing, perhaps dead,” the blind man said dispassionately. “It means +that the most wonderful woman I ever knew is dead. That is all.” + +A look of pity came to the face of the secret agent. “We will do all we +can,” he assured. “We will find the boy just as surely as we will find +the traitor who is responsible for these.” He picked up the precious +sheets, and put them carefully in his pocket, and buttoned his coat. + +“Finding the traitor should be comparatively easy,” Colton told him. +“Men who have the knowledge of music composition necessary to put that +together are not common in the war department.” + +Ames picked up his hat and held out his hand. “Believe me, Mr. Colton, +Washington will not forget this work of yours. I will let you know the +instant we hear anything. Good day!” + +Colton sat quiet while the secret agent and Sydney Thames left the room. +There was no hope in his heart. By his showing the government agent the +secret of the music he had filled his mind with thoughts of finding the +man who was responsible. Every effort of the secret agents would be in +that direction now. What was a little, red-headed kid beside a traitor +who would betray his country? Nothing--to the men who were paid to guard +the secrets of state. + +By silence Colton could have kept the trained government-men on the +trail of the boy he loved. But he had given all that was in him to solve +the puzzle of the music. The secret agents would go on that track now. +The police could do nothing against men like those of the Gilded Glove. +They had been content to arrest Monsieur Gorski; they had proclaimed in +every morning-paper that he was the murderer. They were already lying +back on their laurels, smug, complacent. No, there was no one but the +blind man to find The Fee! + +The long hours of the afternoon passed. Still Thornley Colton sat in the +arm-chair, immovable. From time to time Sydney Thames came to the +doorway, looked in, and went away. He knew that the problemist did not +want to be disturbed. And the blind man’s mind through the hours was the +mind of the men who were behind the gilded glove. His mind worked as +their minds would work; planning out each step they would take in their +next move; leading off into tangents that made necessary the discarding +of entire trains of thought. Patiently he would start again at the +beginning. Finally his brow cleared; the rigid lip-lines softened. + +“It is the only way,” he murmured, and his hand went out to the button +on the desk that would summon his automobile any hour of the day or +night. Another button brought Sydney on the run. + +Colton sensed the unasked question and shook his head. “No,” he +anticipated. “I am going out in the machine to get a breath of fresh +air--alone.” + +“But----” Sydney started to protest. + +“Alone,” repeated the blind man. “I shall not be gone more than an +hour.” + +Sydney Thames went with him to the waiting car, and watched with anxious +eyes as the stolid Irish chauffeur whirled him away. It was less than an +hour later that the blind man returned. + +“Any news?” he asked of Thames, as he threw off his hat and coat. + +“Headquarters report that they have gone through every house in the +Russian sections.” + +“The one place where he would not be likely to be,” sneered the blind +man. Then weariness made his voice heavy. “I’m going to bed, Sydney. I +don’t want to be disturbed under any circumstances. Good-night.” + +He went to the bedroom that adjoined the library, undressed, and in a +few minutes was under the covers, sleeping peacefully. Sydney Thames +shook his head and went to his own room. It was the first time in years +he had known the blind man to miss an evening out. + +When the little clock on the mantel chimed twelve, Thornley Colton waked +immediately, got up noiselessly, and put on his clothes, all but his +collar and tie, coat and vest. From his overcoat-pocket he took the +thing he had gone out for in the early evening. It was a small rubber +bulb with a long rubber tube that had a curved end of hollow, red glass. +He carefully placed the bulb in his right armpit, adjusted the tube down +the length of his arm, so that the curved end of red glass was concealed +in his half-shut right palm. He drew the coat of his pyjamas over his +shirt, and, without even removing his shoes, crawled back under the +covers. + +The little clock chimed one--two. The calm, even breathing of the blind +man came regularly. The superkeen ears caught the faint sound of an +opening door. But he did not move. Dead silence. He heard the +library-door open, and to his nostrils came the strong odour of banana +oil. His regular breathing was the only sound that broke the stillness. +The library-door closed. Instantly, noiselessly, he was out of bed. +Seemingly with one motion he was in his coat, and vest, and overcoat. +His hand touched the loaded automatic in his outside pocket. He did not +even wait to put on the smoked glasses his sensitive, sightless eyes +needed to protect them from the burning light. He did not wait to pick +up the thin, hollow stick that gave its message to his finger-tips. Nor +did he pause an instant in the library, where the smell of bananas told +him that a crushed glove of gilt had been laid on the desk. Down the +stairs he ran with steps that were as silent as the night itself. He +flung wide the front door. Down the street he heard an automobile door +slam; the engine barked. + +“Was I mistaken? Was it all wrong?” ran the bitter thought through his +mind. He had staked everything on his ability to anticipate a probable +plan of action on the part of the murderers. Then an eager look came to +his face. + +“Gee, Mister Colton, I’m glad yuh come!” The piping boy’s voice came +from his side. + +“What is it, Shrimp?” he asked tensely. “Where have you been?” + +“I been watchin’ them guys. I follered the one that got in the house, +an’ I know where dey hang out. Gee, Mister Colton, dere’s a taxi.” + +“Hail it!” + +The shrill voice brought the cab to the curb. The chauffeur nodded at +the low-voiced instructions. In the darkness Thornley Colton lolled back +in the cushions. On his face was a curious look of resolution, content, +victory. His wonderfully-keen ears, trained for years to know every +sound, every voice and inflection of voice, knew that the person at his +side was not Shrimp! He had known from the first that the voice was that +of the man whose marvellous mimicry of Hedwig Gorski’s voice had +deceived even her husband. He knew that the man beside him was Madame +Gorski’s murderer. Blind, helpless but for the automatic pistol in his +pocket, he was allowing himself to be taken to the men who had left +their death-sentence sign on the desk in his library; to the men who had +taken the boy he loved! + +One chance in a thousand there had been, and the blind man had grasped +it eagerly. He knew that one false move would destroy even that chance. +He had realized that hours before. He had not dared give an inkling of +his plan to a soul; he had not dared ask for help in the one desperate +chance, for he did not know how many keen eyes were watching. He did not +know where he was going, and he could not risk having men who would come +to his aid shadowing him. No, the one chance in a thousand could only be +taken _alone_. + +As they rode the voice chattered on, telling of trailing the man who had +left the glove-prints to a little house in Harlem; of stealing a +basement-door key from a servant. Thornley Colton complimented quietly +and often, but his whole mind was fixed on the street-corners the cab +turned, calculating distance, remembering directions. And he knew they +were not going near Harlem; but were in the dark, winding side-streets +of Greenwich Village. + +The taxi came to a stop. “The house is three doors down, Mister Colton. +We’ll chase dis guy an’ slide up soft.” + +Colton took a bill from his pocket, and the hand of the murderer +snatched it to pay the driver. “Dis way,” whispered the voice, when the +chauffeur had gone. Colton felt a hand lightly touch his elbow to guide +him. + +Stealthily they went, keeping close to the dark shadows of the houses. +With a hiss of warning the hand drew him against the wall of a house, +seconds after the blind man had heard the sound of approaching +footsteps. A policeman passed, swinging his stick and whistling softly. + +“Come on!” The hand pulled him forward and down an area-way. He heard a +handle turn and an iron-grille door open rustily. A key in the hand of +his guide opened another door, and he felt the carpet of the +basement-hall under his feet as the door closed behind him. + +“Wait here a minute, Mister Colton,” came the whisper at his side. “I +want a scout ’round a little.” + +Obediently the blind man stood in the darkness. He heard the light, +almost soundless footsteps retreating until they died away somewhere in +the depths of the house. Like a flash he whirled to the door. His +fingers found the catch, sprung it back. The way to escape was open! +Then he crept forward into the darkness, every nerve strained to catch +the slightest warning sound. From the floor above came the hoarse murmur +of voices, but even his wonderful ears could not distinguish words. Then +his lips tautened to a thin, straight line. A moan, faint, quavering, +came from the darkness. He knew instantly that it was the voice of the +boy he had come to find. He had heard it before, years ago, when the boy +had tossed on his bed and dreamed horrid dreams of his murdered mother +and his murderer father, from whom Thornley Colton had taken him. + +“Only a few minutes more, kiddie,” he breathed, then he darted back to +the place his guide had left him. His superkeen ears had warned him. + +“Here upstairs playin’ cards an’ half drunk,” whispered the piping voice +so like that of Shrimp. “Got a gun?” + +Thornley Colton knew that the man was leaning forward, watching him in +the darkness, but his hand touched the pocket that contained the heavy +pistol, and he nodded. The lips of the blind man set even grimmer as he +heard the sharp breath-intake of satisfaction. So the thousandth chance +demanded that he lose even the pistol! Well, he would play the game +according to their own set rules. + +Up the stairs he followed at the heels of his leader, his brain +automatically counting the steps and turns, as it had been taught to do +years before. The guide stopped. Colton could hear the faint murmur of +voices. + +“Dere’s where dey are!” whispered the voice. “Get in before dey know +where dey’s at.” The blind man’s hand fumbled for the door-handle. He +flung the door wide. + +The bright lights of the room stung his naked eyeballs like a million +swords of living fire; his hands went involuntarily to shield them. +Instantly he felt the fingers of the man who had guided him dive toward +his pocket, snatch out the pistol. + +“Welcome, Herr Colton!” The voice came from in front of him in heavy +German, and each word was a sneer. “Fool!” grated the voice. “Into our +hands like a baby you come. Three pistols are pointed at your heart! Sit +down!” + +Colton groped forward blindly, his hand found a chair, his fingers told +him that it was set close to a heavy oak table. + +“Goot!” grunted the man who had spoken. Colton knew that he was sitting +directly in front of him, across the table. The blind man’s ears also +informed him that on either side of the voice was another man. Three +against one! Three with loaded pistols against an unarmed man who was +blind! + +The door closed softly, and Colton knew that the man who had led him was +gone. + +“Where’s my boy?” demanded the problemist suddenly, fiercely. “Where is +he!” He leaned across the table, and the heavy voice commanded him to +sit back. But Thornley Colton had learned the table’s width; a powerful +lift of his knee had told him of its weight. That table was his +thousandth chance! He slumped back in his chair, his left hand +protecting his burning eyes, his right hand half closed on the arm of +his chair. + +“You have offended the Gilded Glove,” began the rumbling German voice. + +“I understand Russian!” broke in the blind man curtly. + +The man at the right drew in his breath sharply. Colton heard the man at +the left tilt his chair until its back touched a wall. + +“The Gilded Glove has always been sacred to traitors,” the voice went +on, and the language was Russian. “But you have learned things that men +with eyes would never have learned. We have watched you with Hedwig +Gorski, and we knew that you knew. We know that you discovered the +secret written in the music. But for you, that secret would have been +our secret. The clutching fingers of the Long Arm are always reaching +for those who fight the Little Father. You fell into our trap. You are a +brave man. Your hands do not shake, nor does your body tremble. Your +death will be an easy death.” + +“Thanks.” The word came laconically from the blind man, but every nerve, +every sense was alert as he mentally pictured the room and its +occupants. He knew that the heavy table must be less than three feet +from the wall. The tilted chair had told him that. Even the quiet +breathing of the men located them for the blind man, who was waiting the +thousandth chance. + +“This chamber is sound-proof. Its secrets are always secrets,” continued +the voice. “We could riddle you with bullets, and the world would be +none the wiser. But we will be merciful.” + +Colton heard the click of a bottle-neck on a glass, heard the gurgle of +the flowing wine, then the glass was pushed across the table. + +“Drink!” ordered the harsh voice. “It is the poison that killed Hedwig +Gorski; swift, powerful, painless. Drink!” + +Thornley Colton drew back, a look of horror on his face. + +“That, or the bullets which do not kill painlessly!” + +The problemist’s right hand reached blindly for the glass. His palm +almost tipped it as it covered the top for an instant; then his fingers +lifted it. + +“You will not harm my boy?” he asked, and there was a queer chokiness in +his voice. + +“Drink!” + +“You will not harm my boy?” The voice was pleading. + +“I shall count three!” + +Slowly, his hands shaking so that it required both of them to keep the +drink from spilling. Thornley Colton lifted the glass to his lips. Six +eyes watched him, but the nervousness seemed to pass as the fire of the +wine entered his veins. He set down the empty glass and wiped his lips +with his handkerchief. Narrowly the men watched him. A hectic flush +seemed to mount the pale cheeks; the lean, cleft jaw was set rigidly. +Suddenly Thornley Colton bent forward across the table; his left hand +gripping its edge. And his voice came to their ears like the snap of a +steel cable. + +“For every minute of pain you have caused the boy I will make you +suffer hours of agony!” he swore passionately. The voice became dull, +then, the words came slowly, haltingly. “Hours--hours--for my +boy’s--hours--hours----” + +The half-closed right fist dropped to his chair arm; the left hand +dropped limply to his side; his body convulsively turned in the chair so +that his hip was at the table-edge; the eyes stared straight ahead. + +“It has done its work--as always,” whispered the man at the left. + +“A pity we could not make of him another Boris!” said the man at the +right. + +“Put away the needless pistols!” commanded the heavy voice. “Darkness +for the sign!” The hand that had held the pistol reached back of him. +The fingers pulled a switch, and the lights went out. The door opened +softly. + +From the darkness a gilded hand came slowly, certainly. The fingers +touched the throat of the blind man---- + +With every ounce of strength in his powerful body, Thornley Colton sent +the table crashing on the three men, pinning them like rats in the +narrow space their chairs had occupied, knocking the breath from them, +half stunning them. So instantaneously that it seemed part of the same +lightning movement the blind man’s hand darted out to grasp the +invisible arm that held the gilded glove. A snapping jerk, and Madame +Gorski’s murderer was on his knees. Colton’s right fist went out; the +curved glass tube in his palm that had sucked up the wine to the bulb in +his arm-pit while his hands had concealed the wineglass, shattered with +the impact, cutting his tender palm in a dozen places. A choking gurgle +came from the torn lips of the murderer, and the problemist knew that +the sudden movement of his right arm had sent a spurting stream of the +poison down the throat of the mimic. He let the lax body slide to the +floor. A groan came from one of the pinned-down men. It was only a +matter of seconds now. + +The steps of a running man sounded in the hall-way. The superkeen ears +of the problemist located them in the direction of the basement-stairs, +and he realised that the approaching man must have been on the lower +floor guarding the boy. That would leave the coast clear! He darted +across the room; crouched beside the door. The man who had groaned +cursed jerkingly, and one of the heavy chairs creaked as he tried to +writhe from under the big table. A hoarse growl came from the doorway. +Like a cat, crouching, Thornley Colton spun on the balls of his feet and +caught the man around the knees. A wrestler’s twist of his body, and the +new comer went down. The problemist pulled the door closed with a slam +and jumped into the hall-way. + +A shot sounded in the room, and the blind man’s lips curved in a grim +smile. The way to escape was clear! In the darkness of the closed room +the men of the Gilded Glove would be for precious minutes wholly at sea; +in the darkness of the halls, Colton was at home--himself. He knew that +he had gained several minutes now, because in the dark and the confusion +of returning senses the men would not realise that he had escaped; every +suspicious sound made by one of them would mean, to the others’ +bewildered brains, the location of the enemy. + +Colton ran down the hall noiselessly; every nerve, every faculty alert +to warn him of danger before a man with eyes would ever suspect its +presence. His brain counted the steps without conscious effort. At the +top of the basement-stairs he paused a second. From the room came a +crash, and he knew the crushing weight of the table had been lifted. +Then another shot. They were fighting among themselves in the darkness! +Down the basement-stairs he ran. His wonderful ears told him that no +other guard was there. + +His hand brushing the wall, as he hurried back into the dark lower +hall-way, located the door. He found the bolt and slid it back. From the +corner came a faint moan. In a single stride he was across the floor. He +leaned over a pile of blankets in the corner, and his hand brushed the +face of the boy; his fingers felt the warm stickiness of the hair, and +he cursed the men upstairs. + +“Shrimp!” he called softly. The boy stirred, and his eyes opened as +Thornley Colton picked him up tenderly in his strong arms. + +“I fought ’em like--the very dickens!” Shrimp’s voice was scarcely a +whisper, but it took every bit of the gameness in the small body to make +it even that. “They blackjacked me.” His body went limp. + +Colton ran with his burden down the dark hall to the front door. The +confusion upstairs had ceased. He heard a door slam; a rumbling Russian +curse; running footsteps. The minutes he had counted on had become +seconds again! He jerked open the door he had unlatched, swung back the +iron grille, and took a great gulp of the cool night air; let the wind +fan his still-burning eyeballs. Running footsteps sounded; a dozen of +them. + +“Colton! My God, Colton!” It was the voice of Ames; and there were men +with him. + +“In the house with the open basement-door!” gasped Colton, and in his +voice was a prayer of thankfulness for the thousandth chance. “The whole +crowd!” he finished. + +The running footsteps sounded once more. Ames lingered. + +“The taxi-driver put us wise,” he jerked out. “He knew the boy, and +realised there was something wrong when the man with you imitated his +voice. Reported it to the police. I got the tip instantly. Called up +your house, and Thames found you gone. I got half a dozen of my men here +in taxis.” + +“Where are the cabs?” snapped Colton. “I want one. My boy is hurt!” + +“Around the corner.” Ames whistled shrilly. “Here comes one. I’ve got to +be with my men!” He was gone. + +Colton laid the boy gently on the cushions, and, as the taxi started +uptown, Shrimp’s eyes fluttered open. “Gee!” he murmured faintly. “I got +m’ real detective work--that--time--assaults--blackjacks----” The voice +died as unconsciousness came again. + + + IV. + +The afternoon sun came slantingly through the great glass windows, +lighting the happy face of the blind man and the pale, smiling face of +The Fee, as he lay in bed, his head swathed in bandages, one arm in a +sling. + +“I was goin’ round, ’cause I couldn’t sleep, an’ I heard somebody open +the front door”--Shrimp scowled as his voice became weak, and set his +teeth for a moment. “I thought it was you. Then I seen his whole head +was covered with a black thing, an’ there was black gloves on his hands, +an’ he didn’t wear no shoes.” + +Colton nodded. “So that he could not be seen, nor heard, in the +darkness. The hood covered everything but his eyes and lips; the latter +were left free so that he could mimic a voice.” + +“I watched him sneak into the library an’ come out. Then I beat it down +the backstairs, an’ when he got in his automobile I was hangin’ on the +back. He musta knew I was there all the time, but he never let on. I was +scoutin’ ’round the house when three of ’em jumped me. I guess they +knocked me out good, for it was a long time ’fore I come round. Then a +guy I couldn’t see came in the dark room where I was an’ started +knockin’ you. I told him where he stood, all right.” + +“It was the mimic,” Colton explained. “He wanted to learn every tone of +your voice.” + +“The government agents got every one of them,” put in Sydney +unnecessarily. + +“Yes, and the house has been the scene of many crimes. Ames and his men +found a lot of valuable papers, together with the ringleaders of the +Gilded Glove. Jones, of the hotel, identified the bearded man who did +all the talking as the German husband who had the rooms. The chair arms +didn’t protect him very much from the falling table, and his three +broken ribs will keep him quiet for a while. The one who posed as his +wife, and the third man at the table, have bruises and contusions enough +to last them a lifetime. The murderer of Hedwig Gorski”--Thornley Colton +paused a minute and went on--“was brought around all right by the +ambulance surgeon; only a little of the poison went down his throat; but +he told his story. He was a wonderful boy mimic fifteen years ago. Any +sound, any voice was as easy for him to learn as names would be to you +and me. Then the Gilded Glove got him. What devilish method they used I +don’t know, but they made him their tool. Boris Strevelski forgot that +he had ever been anything but a dealer of death to traitors; that he was +the Hammer of God was the only idea left in his mind. But they taught +him all languages, and he picked them up as the average man would +remember names. + +“He worked for half an hour to get the pane of glass from the window of +the Gorski bathroom, and, in a skin-tight suit of black silk that +covered everything but his mouth and eyes, he hid behind the coat and +dress in the closet after putting the poison in the tap. He had on the +same suit at the house. My hands told me that.” + +“But how did you know he would come here?” asked Sydney breathlessly. + +“I risked everything on my mental ability to follow the workings of the +Oriental mind,” Colton said slowly. “The Caucasian mind is always +content with mere killing. But the Oriental mind must have the +significant! Think of the risk of staying in the Gorski rooms when they +knew the poison would do its work. But to them the mere death was only +part; their whole course of thought demanded that the sign be left. + +“I knew it would be the same in my case. So I gave them no chance to +leave the crushed glove anywhere but here; and I knew they would come. I +didn’t know that they had been watching me for weeks because of my +friendship with Madame Gorski, nor that they had gotten a duplicate key. +But I was almost at the heels of the stranger. When he saw me I knew he +would instantly think of luring me to my death. The sign had been left, +and death was next. I knew, also, that he would never overlook the +opportunity to mimic Shrimp’s voice, because in the years mimicry has +become a mania with him. He slammed the door of the car in which he came +so that I would think he had escaped. Then his playing Shrimp’s part +seemed easy and logical. What was there to do but take me to the New +York headquarters of the Gilded Glove? Following out their +mind-processes further, I had no doubt that they would give me a chance +to drink the poison, for that, too, is a peculiar kink of the Oriental +mind. Hence my precaution. The rest was simple.” + +“Simple!” gasped Sydney Thames, and there was sweat on his brow. “My +God, Thorn, think of you, _blind_, risking yourself alone with those +men.” + +“My blindness was my greatest ally there,” smiled Colton faintly. “The +instant darkness came they were helpless, while I was my normal self, +which I couldn’t be in the burning light, but”--he touched the +alcohol-soaked bandage that covered his head and eyes--“the tortures of +the Inquisition were mild beside that light on my unprotected eyeballs.” + +He patted the hand of the boy gently. “And it was Shrimp who led the +secret agents, after all,” he said quietly. “If the taxi-driver hadn’t +been one of the hundred friends he has made around the city, there might +have been another story to tell. The men of the Gilded Glove weren’t far +behind me.” + +The door-bell rang downstairs. “Ames again,” commented Colton, a trifle +wearily, and in a few minutes the government agent was ushered into the +room by John, the butler. + +“We got everything, Mr. Colton!” he cried. “The whole gang is cleaned +up. Gorski was released from jail to-day, and is going back to Paris. +Without his wife he will never bother any one. Even the Gilded Glove +didn’t think him worthy of their attention. And those harbour-mine +plans! A wonderful piece of work! Placed in order under an onion-skin +paper map of the harbour, with the staccato-note marks at certain points +on the shore line, every sharp and flat traced on the map gave, as you +said, the exact locations of the mines.” + +“Have you found the traitor?” asked Colton. + +“Yes.” Ames’s voice was sober. “His body was found this morning in his +office. The pistol he had used was beside him. A closed incident.” Then +enthusiasm came to his tone once more. “What you have done on this case +will never be forgotten, Mr. Colton,” he said earnestly. “It will not be +made public, of course, but the secretary of state will write you a +personal letter offering you any reward you may ask. The president +himself will tender you a position that----” + +Thornley Colton’s upraised hand stopped him. The blind man turned his +sightless eyes toward the closed eyes of The Fee, and gently withdrew +his fingers from the clasp of the small hand. “Hush,” he said softly. +“The boy is sleeping.” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + THE SEVENTH PROBLEM + + THE RINGING GOBLETS + + + I. + +His chin resting on his chest, his hands gripping the wide-spread +leather arms of the chair, the man stared at the log fire--fixedly, +intently; as though the ceaseless war the flames waged against the +darkness held him enthralled by its hopelessness. The wind, whistling +encouragement down the wide chimney, caused the fire to leap upward and +drive the shadows in retreat to the farthest corner of the library. For +an instant the flames crackled their triumph; then died down. The +shadows rushed forward, swiftly and silently, to recover the territory +they had lost. The fire sputtered its chagrin. + +The man in the chair shivered, though his hands felt the warmth of the +leather arms. For an instant the hopeless look went from his eyes; his +chin lifted. Then the eyes resumed their staring at the flames. “I +won’t!” he muttered. “I won’t! I’ll----” The thin right fist doubled; he +raised it to smite the arm of the chair. In the air it unclenched and +dropped lifelessly. + +“There must be some way!” Hope again shone in his eyes. The flames, +apparently encouraged by his spirit, again leaped to their fight with +the shadows. “There is!” His voice, low, passionate, died suddenly. He +jerked his head around the side of the high chair, and darted a fearful +glance at a dark corner. A trembling chill shook his body, and his lips +formed the silent words: “I mustn’t forget _that_ devilish thing!” + +The door opened softly, and the man in the chair heard, but he did not +move. The impassive-faced servant came forward with soundless footsteps. + +“You wish anything, sir?” he asked humbly. + +“Nothing, Paul.” + +“A bit more wood on the fire, sir?” + +The seated man turned his eyes back to the glowing logs that had given +up their fight with the darkness, and whose flames no longer leaped +their defiance, but spluttered their defeat. + +“I think not,” came finally. + +“Your wine, sir?” + +“At eight, Paul.” + +“Yes, sir. I’ll remember, sir.” The servant bowed himself back a step, +then stopped. “Miss Nadine says as ’ow she ’opes you are quite fit this +evenin’, sir.” + +A sudden draft of cold air seemed to strike the man, for his body shook +and his hands gripped tighter on the leather arms. + +“Tell her I feel much better,” he lied pitifully, moistening his dry +lips with his tongue. + +“I will, sir.” The man bowed gravely and withdrew, closing the door +quietly behind him. + +Silence came again to the room, broken only by the crackle of the dying +fire that gave to the haggard, deep-lined face of the man a pink glow of +health that belied the hunted look in his eyes, and the lines of utter +hopelessness around the mouth. For minutes he sat, immovable, swallowed +in the depths of the big leather chair. + +The door opened again, and the sound of it brought a new expression to +his face; a curious expression of mingled joy and dread. His thin hands +clenched as if the very action were intended to brace his whole body. +Then his lips formed a tremulous smile as the golden-haired, +pink-cheeked girl ran across the room, and flung her arms around his +neck. Her lips touched his cheek; she drew back and gazed deep into his +eyes for an instant before he lowered them. + +“Oh, daddy-father,” she pleaded. “You _mustn’t_ worry so!” She seated +herself on the chair-arm, her small hand patted his shoulder. “It will +all come out right,” she whispered fondly. + +“Hush!” he breathed, and she could feel his body tremble under her +fingers. + +“The curs!” she said passionately, lifting her head to look over the +back of the high leather chair and gaze into the dark corner, as her +father had done a few minutes before. + +He lifted a hand and touched her lips warningly, but she shook her head +away. + +“It’s killing you, daddy-father!” There was a sobbing catch in her +voice. “You’ve grown old, old, in the past month. Won’t you _please_ let +that wonderful blind man help you? Oh, daddy-father”--both hands were on +his shoulders now; her eyes bright with held-back tears, looked into +his--“think of what he did for Ned--and I love you so!” + +“No, no!” he choked. “I--he--please don’t make me talk.” The last was a +whisper, even the girl in the arm-chair barely heard it. + +“I don’t care!” she cried. “I’ll----” + +From the shadowed shelf over the fire-place came the mellow chime of a +clock. The girl and the man started as though some sudden electric shock +had passed through them. Her hand clutched at his shoulder; a sob came +from her throat. The man’s fingers picked at the leather chair-arms; his +dry lips moved mechanically as he counted the eight strokes of the +clock-bell. When the last note had died away the girl’s hand fell +lifelessly from his shoulder; she rose to her feet. + +“You are going to the opera to-night, Nadine?” he asked, trying bravely +to keep the quaver from his voice. + +“Yes,” she said steadily. She bent down to kiss him, her hand touched +his thin white hair for a minute before she turned to go. Half-way +across the room she stopped, and her little hands clenched at her sides +as the door-handle turned softly; but she merely bowed bravely and +hurried past the wooden-faced manservant who entered. + +“Your wine, sir?” + +The man rubbed his hands together, as though warming them in the glow of +the logs; his face was hidden in the shadows above. + +“Yes, Paul.” + +From the shadow beside the fire-place the servant brought a small, round +tabouret, and set it beside the big chair. + +“Turn me around a bit, Paul. The light hurts my eyes.” + +Obediently the servant placed the big chair so that its side was to the +fire-light. The little man was completely swallowed up in its depths. +Only the tip of one slippered foot showed in the ruddy crimson that came +under the chair. The tabouret was in the dark at the side away from the +fire. + +“The usual two goblets, sir?” asked the servant, as he swung back the +door of the cellaret. + +“Yes, Paul, and a cigar.” + +The man placed the two wine-filled goblets on the small table, and a few +drops of the wine spilled as it swayed a trifle on its uneven legs. + +“Table seems a trifle wabbly, sir. Shall I put something under the legs +to steady it?” + +The seated man merely shook his head and stretched forth a hand to lift +one of the goblets to his lips. Slowly he sipped it while the servant +stood patiently by with the box of cigars. In the flare of the match, +held to light the cigar he had selected, the servant’s eyes, invisible +in the shadows above, studied every line of the haggard face. But there +was no commiseration in the studying--only satisfaction and triumph. + +“That is all; I won’t need you again to-night, Paul.” + +“Very well, sir.” The servant bowed and withdrew. + +For several minutes the smoke from the unmoving cigar spiraled in the +darkness. Then the seated man turned in the big chair, and the ashes +dropped to his knee unheeded as he shuddered. His two hands on the small +tabouret moved it an inch toward him. He shook his head, and moved it +half an inch to the right. The wine in the full glass was spilling, and +he poured half of it into the other goblet. Apparently the uneven legs +that caused the tabouret to teeter back and forth bothered him, for he +spent several minutes setting it to his satisfaction. Then he carefully +placed the two goblets in the exact centre, so that the rims touched, +and leaned back in the big leather chair. + +One hand showed on the arm-chair nearest the fire; the other was in the +shadow. Suddenly the two glasses clicked together with a musical, +ringing sound, as though his hand had nervously fallen on the table and +caused it to sway. Then his shaking fingers on the tabouret-edge caused +a musical soothing jingle of the egg-shell rims. The sound seemed to +please him, for the clink-click-tap-tap-clink kept up for minutes. + +“I won’t!” he cried suddenly, vehemently. His trembling fingers made the +wine dance in the ringing goblets. + +The hand holding the cigar rested on the chair-arm, the fingers clenched +so that the wrapper almost crackled under their pressure. + +“No, no! Nadine----” The moaning voice died; he bent forward in his +chair. The slipper that showed in the light under the chair lifted, then +dropped back to its original position. The cigar smoke curled upward +from the chair-arm, an iridescent ribbon in the feeble glow of the +darkness-defeated logs. + +Clink! Clink-clink! Tap! Tap-tap! came the ring of the goblets on the +tabouret. The clock on the mantel ticked off minute after minute. + +Softly, silently the door opened--an inch, two inches. From the darkness +of the hall outside two eyes stared into the darkness of the room. + +The streamer of smoke rose steadily; the glasses still sang their song +of nervousness. Suddenly the door opened a full half. The owner of the +watching eyes had smelled burning leather. The servant stepped into the +room, stumbled over a big chair near the door, and swore softly. + +“Do you wish anythink, sir?” It was the respectful voice of the servant. + +The smoke still ascended unwaveringly; the music of the goblets did not +cease. But no answer came from the big chair. + +The servant approached the chair on tiptoe. A sound made him turn toward +the door. It was swinging open. He walked to it, and stopped it before +it struck the heavy bookcase, and closed it noiselessly. + +“Do you wish anythink, sir?” he whispered again. + +The slipper still showed in the ribbon of light. The glasses were still +ringing. The cigar still burned. The man sniffed again, then reached the +side of the chair in a single bound. + +A curse escaped him; a deep curse of bafflement, rage. + +_The chair was empty!_ + +On the arm the cigar was burning the leather. The empty slipper was just +where the foot had been. The wine still moved in the now-silent glasses. +But the man he had left a few minutes before, the man whose nervous +fingers had caused the glasses to ring but a second before, had +vanished! + +Two steps took the servant across the room. A snap, and the +incandescents sprang to light. The big chair by the door, a counterpart +of the one at the fire-place, was unmoved. Everything in the room was as +he had left it. But the man was gone. + +“Damn him!” muttered the fellow who had been a servant. But he wasn’t a +servant now. His shoulders were hunched aggressively. The wooden look +had gone. In its place was tenseness, animal strength; the muscles +played back and forth under the tightly-drawn skin of the cheek-bones. + +“He’s gone, chief!” he said, and his voice was low. “How the devil he +did it is more than I can figure.” He ran to the fire-place and knelt on +the hearth, his sharp eyes studying every inch. And as he leaned over +the fire he talked: “I watched the door every minute. His infernal +nervousness gave me the willies. I heard the glasses clink till I got to +the chair, chief--to the _chair_!” + +He ran to the high window, and searched every inch of the sill and +curtains, still speaking in that level, even tone: “Get the boys out and +cover the house! Spread ’em around the block! He can’t have been gone +more than ten minutes. There’s not a damn’ crack in the wall. I know +that!” + +His fingers were running over the bookcases, his eyes seeming to bore +into their very depths as he went on: “The girl’s all ready for the +opera----” His keen ears heard footsteps, and his voice changed to an +agonised wail as the girl entered: “’E’s gone, Miss Nadine, ’e’s gone!” + +“Gone!” she cried, staggering against the chair near the door. “Gone!” +she repeated, and her voice was scarcely a whisper. + +“I smelled ’is cigar burning the leather. I thought as ’ow ’e was +asleep.” + +She forced her limbs to support her weight across the floor. She looked +down into the chair where the untouched cigar still burned. The opera +cloak slipped from her shoulders unheeded as she touched the +tabouret-edge with her fingers for an instant. The glasses clinked +mockingly. + +“Gone!” she said again. “He has gone to them--at last!” + +She swayed, fell, sending the tabouret and glasses crashing to the +floor. The servant leaned over her for an instant; then ran to the +corner of the room. + +“Hear that, chief!” he whispered tensely. “Get it? Rip out the wires +when I cut ’em. There’ll be merry hell around here in a little while!” + +A gleam of nickel showed in his hand as he thrust it behind a high +bookcase. Came two sharp clicks, and as he turned toward the girl he put +into his pocket a round, black disc. It was a dictograph. + + + II. + +For two hours Nadine Nelson had sat, white-faced but steady-voiced, as +the three men questioned, cajoled, badgered, and threatened. At her +right, his chair within a foot of that in which she sat, was the man who +had posed as a servant. At her left was another, just as keen-eyed and +alert. Before her sat a heavy-chinned, broad-shouldered man whose +fingers crackled the typewritten sheets as he jerked out his questions. +The girl’s eyes met his fairly, unwaveringly. Yet she knew he was Chief +Whittson, of the United States secret service. + +“You know that, for months, hundreds of thousands of dollars have been +passed through the agency of your father’s bank?” he snapped. + +“I know nothing,” she said unemotionally. + +“Then why did you say----” He referred to the typewritten sheets: “‘It +will all come out right?’” + +“Because it will,” she replied steadily. + +The men at her sides snorted impatiently. + +“Did you know that your father was the head of the best-organised +counterfeiting gang in the country?” jerked out the secret-service +chief. + +Her eyes did not flinch for an instant. “I knew nothing.” + +“Where is your father, Miss Nelson?” + +“I do not know.” + +“Then why did you say”--his forefinger punched the typewritten page +viciously, and in his voice was snarled impatience--“‘he has gone to +them at last.’ Who did you mean?” + +“I know nothing,” came the unvarying answer she had given a hundred +times before. + +“Why didn’t you call in the police when you knew that your father had +disappeared?” + +For the first time a shade of expression came to the girl’s face; her +lips curved in contempt. “Because I knew that the police could do no +more than the secret-service men of the United States.” There was more +than a tinge of contempt in her voice. + +Chief Whittson straightened back in his chair. “Did you know that your +servant was not what he pretended to be?” he demanded. + +“Yes,” she said defiantly. “We knew from the first that he was a spy.” + +The former servant leaped to his feet, face red with rage. “So that’s +why you took it so cool, eh? That’s why you didn’t raise the fuss I +expected?” he flared. “And you went to your own room and locked the +door to cry. And I was _sorry_ for you. Me! A wise guy! +Some--clever--actress!” + +She shrank back before the lashing sneer in the words. + +“Then you knew of the dictograph?” demanded the chief, instantly alert +to take advantage of the first signs of break-down. + +“Yes,” she whispered tremulously. “We knew, and we----” she stopped, her +breath catching suddenly. + +“‘We,’” repeated the chief sharply. “What? What?” + +Her lips quivered piteously. The nerve that had forced her frail woman’s +body to bear the rack for hours was breaking. + +“What did you do? Tell me!” he commanded viciously. + +“Don’t you think you’ve gone quite far enough on that line?” The quiet, +even voice of the man in the door-way caused the two men at the girl’s +side to leap to their feet, and the chief to jerk his body erect. “If I +were you, Miss Nelson,” the man in the door-way spoke to the girl, and +his voice was gentle, “I would answer only courteous questions.” + +His white face, with its lean, cleft chin, and thin, firm lips, lighted +in a wonderful smile of encouragement; the hand that was not holding the +slim stick brushed back from his high forehead the hair whose whiteness +was accentuated by the great blue circles of the tortoise-rimmed library +glasses. + +“Who are you?” demanded the chief, but there was no bluster in his tone. +The manner he had assumed for the girl had dropped like a mask. He was +the calm, alert detective once more, and his keen judgment told him +instantly that the new comer was not the type to bluff. + +Before the man at the door-way could answer, a youth rushed past him to +the girl’s side. + +“I found him, Nadine,” he cried joyously. “Here’s Mr. Colton. He’ll find +uncle.” + +“Thank God!” breathed the girl, and her body relaxed. + +Thornley Colton turned his head to speak over his shoulder. “A glass of +water, Sydney. Quickly!” + +“So you’re Thornley Colton, eh?” The secret-service chief eyed him +sharply. “I understand you’ve done some rather remarkable work--for a +blind man.” + +Colton smiled, then stepped aside as his black-haired, apple-cheeked +secretary came in with a glass of water. The girl’s eyes fluttered open, +and the blind man realised that she needed time to regain her scattered +senses. + +“You have the average person’s idea of the blind, chief,” he said. “And +the average person gets _his_ notion from the blind beggar on the +street-corners who hobbles along led by a small boy and a dog, and taps +every inch of the side-walk with a heavy cane. Very few realise that is +mostly for effect. Fewer still know that in New York there are nearly +two hundred sightless men and women who go to business every day without +help or guidance. Some of the highest-paid private secretaries and +stenographers in the country are blind. Several of the blind +proof-readers are famous. And for many years the court of last resort in +the dead-letter office at Washington was a blind man. He was the most +expert ever employed by the government, and could read with his +supersensitive finger-tips addresses that had passed through the hands +of the keenest-eyed readers of illegible writing in the world. So you +see, the blind are not so helpless as one might imagine. Ah, Miss +Nelson, do you feel better?” + +“Yes.” She looked up at him with a curious expression in her eyes. It +was the look of a child who has sought a protector only to be a little +frightened at the result. But she smiled bravely. “You did such a +wonderful thing for Ned”--she rested her hand fondly on her cousin’s +arm--“when he was arrested for the murder of the girl in the theatre, +and I thought----” Again came the look that was almost fear. + +“I will do my best,” promised the blind man. “Do you mind my hearing the +story from Chief Whittson--his side of it?” + +“No,” she said, with only a bit of nervousness in her voice. + +Whittson smiled quizzically. This blind man might be interesting. On his +face and the faces of his men there was no doubt of the outcome. They +were government men, trained, efficient; the interloper was an +amateur--and blind. + +“We know that Dryden F. Nelson was the biggest passer of counterfeit +money in the country!” began the chief. “He is the cleverest of them +all. Who would suspect the bank of a man like Nelson as a clearing house +for the cleverest counterfeits ever made? The scheme was wonderful, the +only organised gang in the country who could pass ‘queer’ at its face +value was that of this girl’s father. How long it’s been going on we +don’t know. The bills have the ‘feel,’ something no other counterfeiter +has ever been able to get. It was only within the past six months we +traced the bills to their source. And that was Nelson’s bank! For six +months we have tried to locate the plant, and failed. For the past three +weeks my man here has been in the house, and there has been a dictograph +in the library.” + +“And you discovered nothing?” + +“Nothing except to make morally certain his guilt. And he knew we were +closing in. He was frightened stiff! Now we find out that the girl, +here, was wise. She’s fooled us right along. We never suspected that she +was one of the gang.” + +The girl cowered in her chair. “I’m not,” she faltered. “It isn’t true.” + +“Now Nelson’s slipped through our fingers,” went on the chief +relentlessly. “Just when we had him worked up to a confession. He got +out of that room in some devilish way.” + +“I’ve got the facts of his disappearance,” put in Colton. + +“So have we!” snapped the chief. “Within ten minutes of the time he +went, every inch of this block was covered, and to-day ten thousand +police and two hundred secret-service men are scouring the city for him. +He can’t get out of it, and he can’t stay in it--long.” + +“Why didn’t you arrest him before if you were so certain of his guilt?” + +“Because we wanted his pals! We wanted to locate the plant! And he went +while Jim was watching the door every minute! While my ears were glued +to the dictograph-receivers and my pencil taking every word down in +shorthand.” + +“You heard nothing?” + +“After Jim brought the wine there wasn’t a sound but the infernal +ringing of the two glass rims on the teetery tabouret he insisted on +having beside his chair.” + +Colton looked up with sudden interest. “Did you ever hear those glasses +ring before?” + +“Every night at eight, when Jim here served his wine.” + +“What other time did he have wine served?” + +The former servant answered: “He only had it at eight in the library, +and he wanted it on the minute.” + +“Significance--somewhere,” mused the problemist. For several seconds +there was silence as his slim cane idly tapped his shoe-sole. + +Suddenly the girl sat rigid in her chair. “I can’t!” she cried. “Oh, +please! Please! I can’t!” + +The expression on the blind man’s face was the only one that did not +change. The three secret-service men looked the amazement the sudden +irrelevant words had caused. The youth who was kneeling at the girl’s +side gazed at her in wonder. + +“The truth will help us all, Miss Nelson,” said Colton gently. + +But she paid no attention to the words. Her eyes, widened in fear, were +fixed on the shoe of the problemist. + +“Yes,” she said, and her voice was barely a whisper. “Every night!” + +The chief jumped to his feet. “What’s that?” he demanded. “What’s that?” + +“The one thing you overlooked; the significance of two plus two,” +declared Thornley Colton. “If you will show me the library perhaps I can +point out some other things that your eyes have missed.” + +The girl lifted her bowed head. “Oh, Mr. Colton,” she pleaded, “do not +show them--you don’t know what it means!” + +The blind man went to her side, and put his hand gently on her shoulder. +“It is necessary,” he said, and his voice was tender. Then, to the +chief: “If you will lead the way.” + +Chief Whittson rose, and jerked his thumb toward the girl as she buried +her head in her arms. One of the men nodded. She was to be guarded every +minute. + +“I’ll stay here,” whispered Sydney Thames, as Colton passed him. The +black-haired secretary, tender-hearted, deifier of all women, was going +to guard the girl against further badgering. + +The government man who had posed as the servant opened the door of the +library. “This is the room,” he growled. “There isn’t a break in the +walls. We’ve gone over every inch.” + +Colton’s thin cane located the big chair near the door. He walked around +it, touched its back, the walls behind it, and measured the distance to +the room entrance. On his white cheeks was a hectic flush of excitement; +his nostrils quivered like those of a hound on the scent. + +“You were watching the door every minute?” His voice was unconsciously +sharp. + +“Yes.” + +The blind man turned to the chief, a curious smile on his face. “This is +an instance of the blind’s superiority. You and your man know that there +is but one possible way for a man to get out of this room. You’re as +sure of that as you are of death. Yet you can’t realise that that is the +way Nelson got out because your eyes deceive your brain into thinking it +impossible. Sight is the greatest handicap pure reasoning has. Even a +man with eyes instinctively closes them when he is trying to figure out +some particularly intricate problem. The trouble is that you haven’t +closed your eyes. Nelson went out through that door!” + +“What?” The chief and his man chorused it blankly. + +The blind problemist did not answer at once. He darted across the room. +His stick found the chair at the fire-place. + +“Nelson wanted you to turn this chair away from the fire?” he said +suddenly. + +“How did you know that?” asked the chief, and in his tone was wonder. + +“Because it was necessary for his escape.” The words came like staccato +notes on a taut wire. “He knew that a man was watching that door. He +didn’t know what instant it might open an inch. But he knew that with +the high sides of the chair toward the fire he would be invisible in the +depths. He pulled his slippers off, and left one so that it could be +seen--young Nelson, who came to see his cousin last night, gave me most +of the facts. Then he slid from the chair, and crawled across the floor +to crouch down behind that other big chair near the door. From past +tests he knew just how the servant would enter the room and just what he +would do. It was the work of an instant to slip through the open door as +the servant was crossing the room toward the fire-place. His stockinged +feet made his exit absolutely noiseless. The very simplicity of the +thing would deceive any man in the world who could _see_. Yet you knew +it was the only way he _could_ have gone!” + +“I saw the door open!” gasped the secret-service man. “I thought it was +a draught.” + +“Yes,” nodded the blind man, “because your eyes saw the cigar-smoke and +the slipper. They wouldn’t let your brain get any idea but that he was +in the chair.” + +“But the very simplicity of that would make elaborate preparations +necessary,” objected the chief. “The thing would have to be timed to the +instant. Nelson hadn’t a chance to communicate with any one without our +knowledge. Jim, here, and the dictograph took care of that.” + +Colton’s lips curved in a mirthless smile. “They made it possible! Their +very actions prove that both Nelson and his daughter knew of the +dictograph. They understood that, so long as you didn’t suspect they +knew, you would take no other precautions. They knew that you would +depend on the instrument to hear every word, and on this man to see that +there wasn’t a written word of instruction put into their hands. And +they fooled you! Tricked you every day!” + +At the last word he dropped to his knees beside the big chair by the +fire-place. His supersensitive finger-tips brushed the carpet. Back and +forth they went a dozen times, then stopped. “See that!” he cried. “See +that!” + +The two men leaned forward. For a minute they stared. + +“Only a nail-hole through the rug,” declared the chief. + +“Yes, only a nail-hole,” Colton repeated quietly. “That’s the only thing +your eyes can see. But my finger-tip felt the point of a nail under the +carpet and on a level with the floor.” + +“Nail?” repeated the chief dumbly. He had forgotten his superior +attitude of a short time before. The dominant personality of the blind +man; his absolute sureness of himself compelled respect, and brought a +realisation that Thornley Colton was the master, he the pupil. + +The blind man walked from the chair. His stick, poking in the corner +beside the fire-place, found the tabouret. With an exclamation of +satisfaction he pulled it out and touched its edge with his finger-tips. + +“You spoke of it as being ‘teetery.’ See how finely it is balanced on +the two legs that are a fraction of an inch longer than the others. And +see here!” His stick fell to the floor as he used both hands to turn it +upside-down. The two secret-service men saw that all four legs were +tipped with metal balls. “See the scars of the nail-point on the balls +of the short legs?” cried Colton. He took his knife from his pocket, and +tapped with the blade. A low, musical click-click-click that could be +heard distinctly by the men resulted. “Hear that?” he demanded. + +“What does it mean?” The chief made no effort to keep the bewilderment +from his voice. + +“It means that under the floor, and under that nail-hole in the rug, is +a finely-adjusted magnet with a nail-pointed plunger in the centre of +the coil. That’s how Nelson beat your dictograph! That’s how he beat +your spy. Just as the girl inside understood the Morse messages I tapped +with my cane.” + +“Telegraphy!” gasped the chief. “Nelson was chief staff-telegrapher in +the army for years.” + +The blind man nodded. “The table was set here at eight because that is +the time the person at the other end would be ready to send the +messages. Nelson adjusted the tabouret so that one of the short legs +would be directly above the magnet-plunger, which was as sensitive to +the touch of the telegraph-key sending the current through the +magnet-coils as the most delicate instrument in the world. To the +trained operator who has learned to take a message from any single +instrument in a room where a thousand others are clattering away, the +click of the plunger against that hollow metal ball would be as easy to +read as print to the average man. But ordinarily the dictograph would +also hear. That’s why the goblets were placed rim to rim--so that the +ringing would drown the other sound over the wires of the dictograph, or +to a man listening at the door. Acoustics would take care of that. The +dot-dash of the magnet-plunger could not be heard five feet away, though +the man in the chair could get every word.” + +“By God, that’s clever!” There was admiration in Chief Whittson’s tone. +“Pull back that chair, Jim! We’ll get the rug up and see the thing! +We’ll follow those wires and land the whole gang.” + +He stopped as Nadine Nelson entered the room. She wasn’t the sobbing +girl they had left who now entered; but a white-cheeked, white-lipped +woman who did not speak until she had crossed the room and stood before +the chief. + +“I am the ‘gang’ you speak of,” she said quietly. “The wires go to my +room!” + + + III. + +Calmly, disdainfully, the girl stood at the door of her room, and +watched the secret-service men search it with no regard for care. At her +side stood her cousin, looking on helplessly. His boyish protests had +been stilled by a terse “Shut up!” from the chief. At the other side of +the girl, his face black with a scowl, and his hands clenched at his +sides, stood Sydney Thames. To the soft-hearted Sydney no crime was so +great as that of causing a woman pain. So he gritted his teeth, and +darted murderous glances at the secret-service men, and looks of +pleading at the blind man who leaned against the wall, apparently +watching the searchers. + +The girl had shown them the room. She had flung open the door of the +closet, and cleverly concealed behind hanging clothes they had found a +telegraph-key on a small shelf. They had pulled out the wires, and found +they led to the magnets in the library. Now they were beginning a +systematic search of the room--and finding nothing. The girl had +evidently told the truth. She, and only she, could have sent the +messages. + +“Where did you learn telegraphy?” demanded the chief suddenly. + +“I can’t remember when I didn’t have a key to play with,” she answered +coolly. “Father was an expert telegrapher for years, and he taught us +almost before we could read and write.” + +“‘Us?’” snapped out the chief. + +“My brother and me,” she answered, and the ears of the blind man, +trained to interpret every inflection of tone, caught the sudden forced +note. + +“Where is your brother, Miss Nelson?” he asked. + +“He died ten years ago, in the tropics,” she answered, and there was a +curious break in her voice. + +“And you left the library every night at eight so you could send your +father messages?” asked the chief sarcastically. + +“Yes. We did not dare talk because of your spy. And his eyes were never +off my father.” + +“Well,” the chief’s tone was even more sarcastic than before, “_you_ +might have found an easier way.” + +She did not answer, but watched Thornley Colton as he stepped across the +room to the closet. For a minute he poked inside with his cane, moving +the hanging clothes away from the telegraph-instrument. He leaned over +it, and seemed to be examining it intently. There was a frown of +puzzlement on his forehead as he straightened up. It disappeared almost +instantly, and in its place came a look of sudden enlightenment. + +“Did you ever smoke South American cigarettes with licorice-pectoral +papers, Miss Nelson?” he asked. + +“No, never!” She tried to make the denial indignant, but Colton’s +superkeen ears caught the false note instantly, as did the keen-eyed +chief of the secret service. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but +the blind man forestalled him. + +“The next house is built right against this one, isn’t it, chief?” + +“Yes, but the crazy Frenchman next door is absolutely above suspicion. +We looked up his whole life’s history. He’s a semi-invalid and nutty. He +has a pet bear; also two servants to take care of the animal.” + +“Crazy, eh?” muttered Colton. He hurried across the room, his cane +locating every piece of furniture. He stopped before the bureau, and +leaned forward toward a drawer-pull. An instant he paused, and in that +instant came the betrayal he had hoped to bring from the girl. + +“Don’t, please!” She stopped suddenly, biting her lips until the blood +came. + +Colton straightened up; his lips set grimly. “Pull out the bureau, and +you’ll find an opening into the house of the crazy Frenchman,” he said. + +“What?” The chief jumped across the room, and pulled out the heavy piece +of furniture. Behind it was a jagged hole that a crouching man could go +through with ease. + +The two secret-service men jumped through the opening, but the chief +paused. “How did you know that?” he asked wonderingly. + +“Because the clothes in the closet held the faint licorice odour of the +pectoral cigarette papers that South Americans affect. Therefore some +man must have been sending those messages. It wasn’t a man in this +house. There had to be an entrance--and I tricked the girl into telling +me that it was concealed behind the bureau. It had to be in this room +because the message-sender wouldn’t risk entering another to get where +the telegraph-key was!” + +The girl leaned back against the wall, and a sob came from her lips. +“Oh, why did I ask Ned to find you!” she cried. “Their eyes could have +seen nothing, and you----” + +“It was necessary, Miss Nelson!” The gentleness that had been in the +blind man’s voice downstairs was missing now; it was brusque, sharp. +“Better have one of your men remain here, chief,” he said, and there was +no mistaking his meaning. “I’d like to go through that house.” + +The chief looked at him curiously; then, with the docility that came to +most men when the blind man advised or ordered, he whistled sharply. One +of the men returned. + +“Stay here!” commanded the chief, and he stepped aside as the blind man +bent low and entered the next house. The chief followed. + +“What do you know about the occupant here?” Colton asked the chief as he +walked around the room, his thin cane locating furniture again, and +giving his brain a mental picture of the whole chamber. + +“He’s lived here for some time. We looked him up from A to Izzard, also +his three servants. About six months ago, it appears, he bought a pet +bear, a nasty beast, and sometimes takes him out. Attracts quite a lot +of attention because the old man wears a huge fur coat that makes him +look like the animal’s big brother.” + +“And because every man in your business thinks the crook is always +seeking cover there would be no suspicion of a man who courts attention +by means of keeping a pet bear. Clever game enough to throw any man that +had eyes off the track!” + +“Oh, the Frenchman’s on the level,” resented the chief. “He’s getting +worse, failing fast. Anybody can see that. Doctor comes twice a day to +see him.” + +“And he comes every night about eight o’clock!” declared Colton +suddenly. “He’s the man that’s been sending those messages. He’s the +chief of the gang you’ve been trying to locate so long. He must be, or +he’d stay here all the time. He has to attend to the outside work while +the men here do the actual counterfeiting. And it was never suspected +because all you could see was a _pet bear_! Look!” He pulled open the +drawer of a dresser. “Here’s a dozen cigarette ends, all of pectoral +paper and Brazilian paper. The doctor smoked them here the times he had +to wait for eight o’clock and the time to talk to Nelson.” + +“By Jove! You’re----” + +“Hey, chief!” The cry came from downstairs. + +“It’s Jim. He’s found something!” The chief started toward the door and +stopped. “Do you want me to guide you?” he asked. + +“Go ahead!” Colton said dryly. “My ears will follow your footfalls.” + +“This way, chief! Quick!” The voice directed them to the kitchen. The +chief stopped with an ejaculation of amazement at the door. + +The secret-service operative who had entered the house first was lifting +an unconscious man from a heavy wooden chair. On the floor were the cut +ropes that had bound him, and the wadded handkerchiefs that had +prevented outcries. + +“The Frenchman!” gasped the chief. “He’s got to talk! Lay him down, +Jim!” + +The Frenchman groaned feebly as they put him on the floor, and choked +when a pocket flask was held to his lips. + +“_Mon Dieu!_” he moaned weakly. Then his dazed brain realised that men +were standing over him. “Pleeze stop! I do nozzing!” he cried +supplicatingly. + +“We are friends--gendarmes.” Chief Whittson said the words slowly and +distinctly, so that the man could understand. “Who did this?” + +The fear went from the Frenchman’s eyes. “My servants,” he whispered +hoarsely. “Zay have kep’ me prisoner for mont’s; ever since my old +servants go an’ zay come.” + +“Damn!” jerked out the chief. “They’ve tricked us right along. We looked +up the old servants’ records, and didn’t suspect for an instant the +impersonation. Where did they go? When?” + +The Frenchman fell back, his eyes closed + +“I think I can answer the ‘when’ part of that question,” put in Thornley +Colton, as he appeared at the doorway. “I apologise to the man here for +the things I said upstairs. But even I didn’t give the master +counterfeiter credit for such diabolical ingenuity as this. The fake +servants left the minute you entered Nelson’s house to question the +girl. And the man that went with them as the Frenchman was Dryden F. +Nelson. That’s the only way he could go!” + +The Frenchman stirred, and tried to lift his head. “Zat is right,” he +gasped chokingly. “He----” His eyes closed. + +“Get an ambulance, Jim!” ordered the chief. “This man’s in bad shape. +Get the boys from outside! Put two on the trail of the carriage. Nelson +and his gang won’t get far. Bring the others in to search the house!” +The man darted out, and the chief picked the invalid up in his strong +arms and carried him gently to a couch in the dining-room. + +The Frenchman moaned, and a shudder shook his body. “Don’t make ze bear +hurt me!” he cried weakly. “Don’t knock ze glasses togezzer and make him +mad-crazee.” He lapsed back into unconsciousness. + +The chief looked at Colton significantly, but the blind man only nodded. + +“But how did old man Nelson ever get a chance to get in here?” puzzled +the chief. + +“He didn’t!” Colton’s voice was sharp. “The man who posed as the doctor +is the ringleader.” There came a ring of menace in his tone. “I’ll find +him! I know him!” + +“You know him?” The chief did not even nod to the three men who entered +the room and stood respectfully by for orders. + +“Yes! He’s tanned a dark brown, an expert telegrapher, thirty-five years +old, a man who likes to pet and fondle a bear, and his first name is +Joe. There are a few other details I’ll give you when the proper time +comes.” + +“Great Scott!” Amazement, incredulity were in the chief’s voice. He +turned to one of his men. “Was the doctor here last night, Tom?” he +asked. + +“We saw him coming out a minute before we got the alarm from you, chief. +Said good evening, and told us it was only a matter of days for the old +guy here.” + +“Eyes attach no significance to things they have seen a dozen times +before,” Colton observed. + +The chief turned to him again. “Where did you get those facts?” he +demanded, with the brusqueness of chagrin in his voice. + +“The Brazilian tobacco and pectoral papers told me he had spent years in +South America. Naturally he’d be tanned a dark brown. The fact that he +must be an expert telegrapher is obvious. I know that he is thirty-five +years old because I know that he is fifteen years older than Nadine +Nelson. How I knew that you’ll know later. This told me his name--and +another fact.” The blind man held out a charred fragment of paper +scarcely two inches square, a deep brown in colour from heat and smoke. +“The fact that the man you want takes pleasure in fondling and handling +a bear my keen sense of smell told me. The bear-fur odour is +unmistakable and clings to a thing for hours. It was on the handkerchief +in the kitchen, and in the corner of the linen was the initial J!” + +“It’s impossible to decipher a word of this!” protested the chief, +looking up from the charred fragment of paper. + +“With eyes--yes. But my finger-tips found the tracery of that name, even +though the ink had entirely disappeared! The pen-ridges remain, and +would remain until the paper was consumed.” He changed the subject +suddenly. “There comes the ambulance. I want to go up and see the girl +again.” + +“I’ll go with you.” Chief Whittson’s tone was curiously humble. He +turned to give curt orders to the men, and followed the blind man out of +the room. + +Despite the minutes that had passed, Nadine Nelson was just where they +had left her. The secret-service guard sat easily on a gilt chair. +Sydney Thames and the girl’s cousin were alternately pleading with her +to sit down. As the chief and Thornley Colton stepped into the room her +teeth gripped her lower lip, and her hands clenched tighter at her +sides. + +“Who is the man who has been coming into this room every night to send +those messages?” Thornley Colton’s voice was hard, stern. + +The face of the girl went white at the cruelty of it. Sydney Thames took +a half step forward, and a gesture of the blind man stopped him. + +“Who is he?” snapped the blind man again. + +She raised her head to look straight into his sightless eyes. + +“My husband!” she answered defiantly. + +“That isn’t true!” The words came like the lash of a whip. + +“Thorn!” In Sydney Thames’s voice was agony that the man he loved could +say such a thing to a woman. + +“And you were the man I thought could help me!” Scorn, bitterness, +self-accusation were in the vibrant voice of the girl. “You’re worse +than those curs who listened to every word! You’ve _killed_ my father! +If I were a man I’d kill _you_--even though you are blind!” + +The last words came through her clenched, white teeth, and she advanced +half a step, so that her hot breath reached the face of the blind man. +But he only idly twirled his slim cane and looked down at her with a +tolerant, amused grin that was maddening. + +“You’ll talk!” he promised curtly. “She’ll talk in jail, chief!” + +“I wouldn’t talk if you tore me to little pieces!” she cried vehemently. + +Colton did not answer; he nodded curtly to the chief, and with a “Come, +Sydney!” he hurried from the room, and from the girl who stared straight +ahead of her with dull, fixed eyes. + +Sydney Thames followed him down the stairs silently. In the lower hall +he spoke. “God, Thorn, that was barbarous! It almost made me forget----” + +“Find the telephone and get me the number of the United Fruit Company,” +ordered the blind man sharply. + +Without a word Thames found the ’phone in an alcove of the hall, and +gave the number to Colton. + +“What boat sails for South America to-day?” asked the problemist when +the connection had been established. “The _Carracas_? Is there a bear +consigned on that boat? Hasn’t arrived yet? The sailing’s at five? Thank +you!” + +As he hung up the receiver the angry boy’s tone of Nadine Nelson’s +cousin came to them indistinctly. Sydney Thames jumped as though a pin +had jabbed him. When he spoke to the blind man there was a look on his +face that had never been on it before. + +“Thorn,” he said, and there was a break in his voice, “you’ve been the +only father I ever knew, but I _won’t_ leave that girl to the mercy of +those police brutes!” + +“This is no time for sentiment!” snapped Colton. + +“It is time for good-bye, then!” Sydney Thames, the colourless, the +characterless, the counter of steps for the man who had picked him up, a +bundle of baby-clothes on the banks of the English river that had given +him the only name he ever knew, held out his hand. + +The blind man’s lips tightened; he ignored the outstretched hand as he +pulled on a glove. “Make it _auf wiedersehen_,” he said wearily. “Shrimp +and I are going to catch the boat for Brazil at five o’clock!” + + + IV. + +The Fee, red-haired, freckle-faced boy, who had become a member of the +Colton household as the blind man’s only pay for solving a particularly +baffling murder case, eased his plaster-encircled arm on the rail of the +_Carracas_, and watched with all the power of his round blue eyes the +lowering of the big cage on the forward deck. As it swung for an instant +on a level with the promenade deck on which they stood, the boy caught a +glimpse of the shaggy animal under the canvas protecting-hood that +covered the top and fitted tightly halfway down the sides. + +“Gee, Mister Colton, it’s certain’y got some claws on its feet!” +observed the boy admiringly. A hitch of the rope jarred the cage, and +brought forth a deep growl that could be heard above the creaking of +ropes and the squeaky wheels of the stevedores’ trucks as they rushed +the last few cases of freight on deck. “There she bumps!” cried the boy +as the cable touched the deck. + +Then came a shriek of pain. “Gee whiz!” gasped the boy, and the blind +man’s cane felt him jump a foot. “One of the workin’men bent down to get +the rope off the bottom of the cage, and the bear reached under the +canvas, tore his arm with its claws. Darn it, but he’s wicious!” + +The bawling voice of an officer broke in: “Here, you men that own that +bear! Unsling the cage!” + +Three ragged, dark-skinned men jumped to the cage, and unslung the +tackle ropes without arousing even a deep-throated growl from the +animal. + +The tense look left Thornley Colton’s face as he heard the block slip to +the deck, and for the first time in hours there came the slightest trace +of satisfaction in the curve of the thin lips. He was right! Once more +he had risked everything on his judgment and his wonderful mental +ability to find logic in seeming chaos by following to their end the +mind processes of men against whom he was pitted. + +The proof had come with the shriek of the clawed stevedore. Thornley +Colton’s whole mind had been concentrated to catch one other sound among +the multitude of noises. He had heard it and recognised it--the musical +clink of glass on glass--the ring of a goblet! That had been the thing +that had aroused the fury of the bear at exactly the instant that the +workman was within reach of the tearing claws. That was the thing that +had sent Dryden F. Nelson’s daughter to jail, and had caused Sydney +Thames to renounce the man who loved him. + +“I’ll bet nobody but them guys that own the bear’ll go near him after +this,” observed the boy sagely. + +“I don’t think they will,” the blind man said grimly. “Let’s take a walk +around.” + +The boy’s eyes squinted along the deck from his feet to the rail at the +other side. “It’s ten steps,” he calculated. “They’s a man an’ a fat +woman five ahead lookin’ down at the front deck, an’ at the other rail +there’s a guy in a chair readin’ a paper. Yuh gotta step out a bit for +him.” + +“All right,” nodded the blind man, as he started. + +The boy walked at his side, and he avoided the man and the woman, but +his foot seemed to slip at the steamer chair, and he fell sprawling into +the lap of the seated man, sending the thin glass he had held in his +hands behind the paper in a hundred pieces to the deck. + +“What the devil!” snapped the hoarse voice of the man, as he angrily +brushed away the sparks of fire that had fallen on his coat when the +black-brown cigarette had fallen from his lips. + +Instantly Colton was on his feet, apologising. “I am blind; I made a +false step,” he said contritely. + +“Oh, all right,” growled the man ungraciously. + +The problemist started again on his walk. The grim lines had returned +around his thin-lipped mouth, but there was no other change in the blind +man’s expression, not even triumph. Yet he had located the man he +wanted; the man who had fooled the entire secret service of the country +for months! Reasoning had done it; the pure eliminative reasoning that +was made possible by his lack of sight. The man into whose lap he had +just fallen was the one who had aroused the bear’s anger with the tap of +his glass. He was the man whose pectoral cigarette papers and tobacco +had scented the closet at the Nelson home. And he had recently handled a +bear! + +As his brain worked at lightning speed behind his high, white forehead, +the blind man walked with the boy aimlessly around the decks, hardly +hearing Shrimp’s delighted chatter. The _Carracas_ was in mid-stream +now, her nose pointed toward the Narrows. Most of the passengers had +gone to their state-rooms, and the steam hissed from the winch cylinders +forward as the last pieces of cargo were lowered into the hold. The +blind man’s ears were strained to catch each sound, or suspicion of +sound that would tell him the things he could not see, and his brain +counted the steps, measuring distance, memorising directions as years of +training had taught it to do. Suddenly Colton realised that some one was +following them, watching every move. A growingly familiar furtive +footstep every little while as the shadow quickly dodged, whiffs of the +Brazilian tobacco smoke wafted to his nostrils on sudden gusts of wind, +told him more than eyes could have told. His fall, crude because of its +necessity, had aroused the other man’s suspicion. + +“Show me our stateroom, Shrimp,” he said finally. “Then you can come up +on deck again. I’ll remember all the steps.” + +“Gee!” grinned the boy, in huge relief. “I’m glad I don’t have to stay +down there. I wanta watch that little yacht that’s comin’ out.” + +Colton nodded. He knew why the “little yacht” was coming out. He knew +she should be flying a flag with perpendicular red stripes--the flag of +the revenue service. And he knew that on board her was Chief Whittson +and his men, who awaited his signal. + +The boy proudly opened the door of the little white room, and Colton +closed it behind him. “Wait a minute, Shrimp,” he said quietly. From his +pocket he took a memorandum book and pencil. For a minute he wrote, then +he handed the torn-out leaf to the boy, who read, with widening eyes: + + If you miss me for fifteen minutes, or see me on deck with the + man I fell over, run to the wireless house and give the operator + this message: John Jones, 56 Cedar Street, New York. Close. + + PAYTON. + +“Gee!” whispered the boy joyfully. “I _knowed_ it was a case! I knowed +you didn’t mean what you said about not lettin’ me in on any more when I +broke this arm. Gee!” + +“Go up on the deck and see all the sights you can, Shrimp,” smiled the +blind man. “See you later.” + +The problemist sat down on the edge of the brass bed to go over the +situation again and make sure that there was not a loose end. He had +figured out on deck the only way, but he wanted to prove his reasoning +by mental tests. The master counterfeiter, cunning, desperate, could do +only one thing--eliminate the man he knew suspected him. And Thornley +Colton could do but one thing--“watch” every minute the head of the +gang. The success of the whole case depended on Colton’s alertness in +preventing the criminal from making one move that the problemist knew he +would make the instant the master rogue discovered all was lost. Yet the +presence of the man at the dénouement was _necessary_! Colton rose. He +must take a desperate chance, just as he had taken them many times +before. + +He opened the door, and went down the narrow corridor, his brain +automatically counting the steps it had registered when he entered. He +stopped. He smelled the heavy licorice odour of the pectoral papers +again. For an instant a grim smile flashed to his lips. He had followed +the mind-processes of the man correctly once more. The smell of the +smoke was too obvious; it had been overdone. + +A stateroom door opened before him. + +“Got a match?” asked a voice, and Colton understood the disguising of +tone instantly. + +The blind man held out his match safe; then the snarling whisper of the +man cut the stillness, and he felt a gun-muzzle jab viciously into his +ribs. “Get in here!” Colton quietly obeyed the order, and stepped over +the threshold into the stateroom that was filled almost to suffocation +with cigarette smoke. + +“Put ’em over your head! Up!” The snarl changed to a sneer. “So you’re +the slick blind man that sister of mine talked about, eh? The lonehander +that makes boobs of the police and secret service? Well, little bat-eye, +I’ve been laying for you ever since I got wise to that slick fall trick. +Got a damn’ fine nose, eh, smelling that pec smoke I’ve been filling the +lower deck with ever since you and the kid came down.” + +“Humour palls when the audience is forced to stand in so uncomfortable a +position,” said the blind man evenly. + +He felt his own pistol snatched away. + +“Back up a step, and you’ll find the bed!” ordered the voice. + +The blind man sat down and waited patiently. When the other man spoke +again there was grudging admiration in his voice. “I’ve got to hand it +to you,” he admitted. “I didn’t think there was one man on earth that’d +get wise. Now I suppose you want the old man?” + +“I want you first,” Colton told him. + +“You got me!” laughed the man with the gun. “But you haven’t got me like +you got that sister of mine, have you? She wouldn’t say a word, would +she? Well, it’s a damn’ good thing she didn’t!” + +“I knew that,” said Colton quietly. + +“You didn’t think the wayward son could come back after ten years, with +a counterfeiting process that couldn’t be beat, and then get his father +in on the scheme to pass the phony money through his bank, did you? And +you didn’t know that staid old Dryden Nelson would ever become head of +the gang, and then slide out under the noses of the secret-service men. +I guess he’s the man you want to get, eh? Well, I’m the little man +that’s going to see that you don’t!” + +“I will find him when the time comes.” + +“You will, eh--you will!” Snarling viciousness dominated the voice. +“Well, you won’t! You, with your lone hand! Why, you poor boob, it’d +take a gang to get me!” + +“I had about concluded you were just taking a chance on a word dropped +by Miss Nelson and a thing or two you might have heard of me,” Colton +said quietly. “I didn’t think you’d dare have any one near enough to get +real information. This is one of the games where I don’t play a lone +hand. The boat that’s been following us ever since we left the dock is +the revenue cutter _Proctor_, with Chief Whittson and his men aboard.” + +The man ripped out an oath. “So that’s it!” he snarled. “Fooled me, eh? +Stand up! Put your hands behind your back! No funny work! I’ve tied men +before with one hand.” + +Colton smiled at him sardonically. “If I am off the deck fifteen minutes +Chief Whittson and his men will board the _Carracas_, and nab the fake +owners of the bear. Quite a scheme, that. No one would ever suspect +ignorant, ragged-looking, brown men with a dancing bear as +counterfeiters, would they?” His tone was a burlesque of the man’s own. +“And what do you suppose the chief’ll do when he finds me here? Tied up +or dead makes no difference. I promised myself to get you, and get you +alone. But it’ll be just as good that way.” The mockery had died out of +his voice at that last sentence; there was a tinge of bitterness that +the man instantly recognised. + +“Well, you couldn’t put him wise to _me_!” gritted the man. “So you +_are_ a lone-handed worker, after all. Get up!” he commanded. Colton +obeyed the jabbing gun-barrel. “I’m a single-hander, too!” went on the +counterfeiter. “We’re going up on the deck, and if there’s a move to get +me, out you go! This gun’ll be in my pocket, jamming your kidneys every +minute. Let ’em get the gang! I’m through with ’em! Let ’em have the +bear, too! It’ll be no good to anybody! I’ll see to that. But if you +even lift a finger to point me out----” He made a horrible gurgling +sound in his throat that was more than significant. “Come on!” he +ordered sharply. + +They left the stateroom, Colton idly twirling his slim stick, the man at +his side talking commonplaces in a grim tone that made them anything but +commonplaces. To the passengers who saw them on the deck they were only +ship acquaintances, but the blind man felt the gun-muzzle now and then +in his side. + +“We’ll stop here,” growled the man at the forward rail, overlooking the +open deck below. “I want to be where I can watch those men of mine. Put +your hands on the rail where I can see ’em!” + +Colton quietly obeyed, resting his elbows on the wood and dangling his +cane over the edge. The crash of the wireless sender broke out; the +blind man felt his companion grow tense as his trained ears read the +dots and dashes. Then he knew that the message he had written so that +the man who was an expert telegrapher could not suspect had flashed to +the revenue cutter, “John Jones, 56 Cedar Street,” meant nothing but a +business deal. + +Minutes passed. Below them the three ragged men lounged around the cage. +Four or five other men, of the crew off watch, stood around, scowling +vindictively at the bear cage and its sleeping animal. Then came the +thing that the blind man had been waiting for. He felt the big engines +slow down. Not a muscle of his body seemed to move, but the knuckles of +his right hand whitened as he gripped the end of his cane. + +An oath came from the man at his side. “So you tricked----” + +So sudden that it seemed but a whir in the light, the slim cane in the +hand of the blind man swished around, straight for the other man’s eyes. +There had been not a warning move but a lightning turn of the wrist. The +first instinct man has is to protect his eyes. The criminal obeyed it, +forgetting all else. He dodged with a gasp. Colton’s knees seemed to +give way under him, he spun around on the balls of his feet like a cat; +then his whole body straightened like a suddenly released whalebone, his +right fist found the jaw of the other, and the master counterfeiter fell +without a groan and lay still. + +Colton’s whistle rang out shrilly. A screamed oath came from the deck +below. The sound of a struggle. + +“Get the bear!” shouted Colton. + +A shot rang out. Another. He could hear the big cage rattle and groan as +the dying animal thrashed out its life. Around the cage seven men were +struggling, the three ragged, dark-skinned men who had guarded the cage +and the four men who had been apparently lounging sailors. + +The blind man listened for a moment, then he smiled a grim smile. “A +lone hand!” he murmured. “I hate assistants--but I’m not such an +egotistical fool as all that!” + +On the port side of the boat he heard the scrambling of men to the high, +white deck. Then Chief Whittson’s voice came: + +“Did you get him?” + +Colton touched the unconscious body of the man near the rail just as he +would have touched the body of a snake with his foot. + +“Where’s Nelson?” asked the chief eagerly. + +“Down there in the false, canvas-covered top of that bear cage!” + +“What!” + +“Yes. Drugged! For God’s sake get that suffocating cover off, and send +for the ship’s doctor.” + +The order was bawled to the men below. Willing hands ripped the cover to +pieces, and on a thin mattress, in a steel-floored, steel-meshed upper +compartment of the cage, was Dryden F. Nelson, white-faced, unconscious! + +“By Heaven, he had his nerve with him to take that chance to get away!” +gasped the chief, in admiration. “It’s a new one! We’d never have +suspected a bear cage in a thousand years. And we had every way out of +the city guarded.” + +“Yes!” The word came as a half groan, half snarl, from the man on the +deck, whom one of the secret-service operatives had just manacled. “He +had his nerve! He’s my father! And he’s the greatest counterfeiter of +them all!” + +Thornley Colton leaned forward. He grasped a wrist of the man, and +almost pulled the arm out of its socket. + +“You dirty, lying cur!” he said, and his tone was one that he had never +used before. “You forced that old man to serve you after he had +discovered what you were doing! You forced the girl who thought you were +her brother to protect you! By God, if ever a man deserved hanging +you’re the one!” + +“He’s my father!” grated the handcuffed man. “If I go to jail he’ll go, +too! He knows I’m his son!” + +“You dog!” Colton’s voice fairly shook with passion. “You fooled him +into believing that you were his rotten-hearted son that died ten years +ago. But you can’t fool me! You may look like Joe Nelson! You may +deceive even the eyes of a father! But I’m blind! Blind! I talked for an +hour with a school chum who played in the football game in which Joe +Nelson broke his wrist. You never had a broken wrist in your life! The +bones are perfect!” He turned to the chief. “Keep a careful guard on +that cage, chief, until we get to the cutter. I think there’s a million +or so dollars that this dog got from Nelson’s bank stuffed into that +mattress!” + +“Damn you!” The man half rose to his knees as he shrieked it. “I tricked +them all! And you----” + +“That’s the confession I wanted to vindicate Nelson,” said the blind man +contentedly. + + + V. + +Nadine Nelson rose as the blind man entered the room, her lips curved in +a wonderful smile of joyous greeting, and she hurried across the floor +to meet him. + +“Can you ever forgive me?” he asked, in his rich, musical voice. + +“Forgive you?” she cried happily. “Why, I could--kiss you!” She stopped, +crimson-cheeked. + +He smiled seriously down at her. “It was necessary, the way I spoke to +you,” he said gently. “Before, I did not realise how desperate the game +was. I knew that your father’s life hung on the thread of your silence. +And I knew that the only way I could assure myself that you wouldn’t +break down and talk was to arouse every bit of that wonderful fighting +gameness you have. The men who had your father would have killed him +rather than risk getting him away if they thought there was a breath of +suspicion.” + +“I know,” she said; “I know--and understand.” + +“The ringleader talked a little to the chief on the way back in the +revenue cutter,” went on Colton. “He had been a pal of your brother’s +for years in South America. They worked together in a telegraph office +in Rio.” + +“He was a wonderful operator,” murmured the girl. “He is the only man I +ever knew of who could imitate another man’s touch on the key. That was +the proof that convinced father that he was Joe. You know the touch of +an operator on a sender is as individual as handwriting.” + +Colton nodded. “My knowledge of that fact is what threw me off the track +at first. You knew your brother was implicated the minute you spoke of +him in your room. I remembered then the stories I had heard of him. I +remembered that he was fifteen years older than you, and was supposed to +have been shot in South America ten years ago, where he went following +some trouble here.” + +“Joe always was wild,” the girl confessed softly, “though I only +remember him as a big, strong brother who used to hold me on his knee +while he told me wonderful stories. I couldn’t believe sometimes that +the man who was making daddy do such horrible things could be the +brother I knew. But I couldn’t convince father. The counterfeiter knew +every incident of Joe’s life, and there was the touch of the operator +that father thought was so indisputable. I tried to get father to +confess it all. I refused to carry him the messages that were left in my +room after we knew the secret-service men were watching us, and that Joe +and his men were next door. Then Joe--I can’t call him anything +else----” + +“That is the name he has gone under for years,” put in Colton. + +“Then Joe rigged up the magnets and key,” went on the girl. “He had to +give father instructions every night where to distribute the counterfeit +money that was packed in the vaults of the bank in place of the reserve. +And he made father sell all his bonds to cover the shortage. Then, with +the help of a watchman, who was another of the gang, they got the +counterfeit money in to take the place of that father had gotten to make +good. Every day Joe promised that he would make restitution, for he had +made father believe that he had sent the money to Brazil for investment, +and it would double in a month. So father hoped and prayed, and got +years older every hour. The secret-service men were dogging every step, +watching every move. Jail stared him in the face--and he believed the +man he thought his son, believed that he would have the money to look +the world squarely in the face once more. + +“Then Joe told him one night, over the wire, that he had lost all. +Father must go. I watched outside my door every night to see that Paul +did not come near. I caught a word. I pleaded with father. For four days +I fought against them. Then they won. I was at the door last night when +father came running up the stairs, panting, half dead with the +excitement of having slipped past the secret-service man. He darted past +me. I followed. Joe grabbed me by the arm when I started to protest. +‘Get downstairs and throw a fit because your father has gone!’ he +hissed. ‘You’ll be along in a little while, and be with him!’ he +finished, and there was a look in his eyes that frightened me. So you +see it wasn’t only acting in the library.” She shuddered. + +Colton understood, even more than she, for he had heard the confession +of the master counterfeiter on the revenue cutter that had brought them +all back to the city. He had learned then why he had taken such pains to +get the old man away. The crook had not been satisfied to take every +dollar of the old man’s fortune. He had seen the girl; he had wanted +her, and she was to have been the price of her father’s life! + +“The chief’s men got the whole plant next door,” he put in hastily. +“It’s a new process of bleaching one-dollar bills, and making hundreds +from them with a new photographic process. The master crook had been +perfecting it for years in Brazil, waiting for a big stake in New York. +He put one of his assistants as correspondent of your father’s bank down +there. A year ago he had him write a humble letter asking for a position +in New York. Your father gave it to him.” + +“Yes,” admitted the girl. “And the man who took the position was the one +who posed as my brother. He pretended to be very dull. That’s why the +secret-service men never suspected him. When he had been in the bank +three months, father discovered a shortage of sixty thousand dollars. He +accused the man who came from Brazil. Father’s bank, you know, is a +private institution, and only has seven employees. The man confessed, +and convinced father that he was Joe. He said he would make good the +loss. And he did, with the clever counterfeits. That was the entering +wedge. After that father was only putty in his hands. Six months ago he +resigned, after seeing to it that one of his gang was put in as watchman +and another took his place.” + +“That is when he took up his role as doctor,” put in Colton, “and got +his scheme of taking the poor Frenchman’s house. And at the hospital +they say the Frenchman will recover fully.” + +“And father is upstairs sleeping,” she said softly. “You brought him +back to me--and he knows that the man who tried to ruin him, the man who +would have killed him if you had not been there to prevent him when the +revenue men came, was not his son! That is the greatest of all! We owe +you a debt that we can never repay; you and Sydney, here, who stood so +bravely by when I thought all the world had turned against me.” + +She touched the arm of the black-haired man who had sat silent beside +her, and he looked at her with a wonderful new light in his eyes. Gone, +now, was Sydney Thames’s great fear of women that had been his obsession +all his life. He had met _the_ woman. + +“Can you ever forgive me, Thorn?” he asked, speaking for the first time. +He had not even raised his eyes to the face of the man he had renounced +that morning. Ever since Dryden Nelson had been brought back to his +home, and the wireless message from the revenue cutter had opened the +jail-door for the girl, his thoughts had been torturing him. + +“I must forgive myself first,” the blind man said quietly. “It hurt me +more than anything else to talk to you like that. But a man’s life hung +in the balance. I could not tell you, for I knew you would tell the girl +rather than see her suffer a minute.” One of his rare smiles lighted up +his face. “Let’s make it a burned paper, more completely burned than the +charred fragment I found in the Frenchman’s house; the part of a note +one of the outside men sent to the master counterfeiter. For on that my +fingers read three words: Joe, cage, _Carracas_. That finished the +case--my case.” And his sightless eyes seemed to look at them with +understanding and joy. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + THE EIGHTH PROBLEM + + THE EYE OF THE SEVEN DEVILS + + + I. + +A jarring incongruity in the room of tapestries, silken-shaded lights, +and furnishings of mahogany, the rough wooden box, with its dirty, +scarred sides, scratched the top of the polished table in a hundred +places without arousing even a murmur of protest from the four men who +watched every movement of the little Japanese servant as he carefully +pried the holding nails from the cover boards. A chorused “Ah!” came +from four pairs of lips as the servant laid the chisel down and lifted +the last board. + +“Careful, Nesu,” warned the frock-coated man with the white moustache +and sun-tanned cheeks. + +The dissipated-looking youth, with the Egyptian cigarette dangling +loosely from his lower lip, rose to get a better view of the interior. +“’Nough cotton stuffing there to fill a barrel, captain,” he grinned, +vacuously. + +“Yes,” nodded the white-moustached captain. “Nearly ten pounds, and the +Devils are bound into place with nearly twenty yards of silk strips. A +man takes a little care with a thing that’s cost him forty thousand, +Meynerd.” + +The Japanese servant pulled out a huge handful of cotton, and placed it +on a spread newspaper as another of the group spoke. “Is it really worth +that, captain?” he asked. + +“Three times that, Joslyn. Forty thousand is only what I paid the +hunchback outcast priest in the Yunling mountain monastery in Sze Chuen. +He had had it hidden for nearly fifty years. The eye alone is worth +sixty-five thousand, if it’s worth a cent. The forty thousand I paid +will buy the priest all the prayers he needs for the next hundred years; +and they’ll be the best prayers money can buy, at that.” He smiled, +grimly. “I needed a few of those same prayers on several occasions +myself,” he went on. “Especially on that three-hundred-mile journey +through the Yunlings to Chingtu. I have an idea the priest wanted to +steal a march on the prayers, and threw out a hint that the ‘white dogs’ +had found the pearl-eyed Seven Devils of Sin. During the half century +that had passed since he stole it, of course, it has been ‘lost.’” + +“Why didn’t he return it instead of getting forty thousand dollars to +buy prayer papers to burn for his soul?” asked Wilson, the fourth member +of the group, taking his eyes from the busy-fingered Jap. + +“Because he was a Chinese,” explained Captain Richards. “He stole the +thing when he had just entered the monastery, for a white man who bribed +him--that’s a long story in itself. The briber was killed the day of the +theft. The young priest was suspected, and tortured until he became a +hunchback and outcast, but no confession could be gotten. In the years +the blame has been laid on the white man’s devil, who stole the Chinese +devils and took them to his home, when the white master was killed. The +peculiar kink of the Chinese mind would not let the thief confess or +return the devils. He couldn’t see where the mere restitution would +expiate his sin. The only way he could figure was to wait until some one +came with enough money to pray him into heaven for a hundred years after +he had gone. Peculiar cusses, the Chinese.” + +He rose at the last word, and the others rose with him. The Japanese was +unwinding yard after yard of two-inch silken strips. + +“Ah!” It was more than an exclamation: it was a three-man-power cry of +amazement, wonder, and surprise as the captain lifted the thing from the +box and set it gently on the table. + +“Great guns!” gasped the dissipated-looking youth, backing away a step +and stopping with a sheepish grin. + +“The Seven Golden Devils of Sin with the single eye!” announced the +captain, with a flourish. + +The men stared at the most curious-looking object they had ever seen. At +first glance it seemed merely a spidery collection of arms and legs; +then seven figures stood out, separately and distinctly, grouped closely +together. In the centre stood the shortest; around him, in every +conceivable position, were six others. Their bodies were grotesquely +deformed, their backs misshapen, their limbs twisted; and the genius who +had fashioned the thing of his dull, hand-hammered gold in the centuries +gone, had given to the bodies and limbs the distortion of horrible +agony. + +But it was the head; the single head that surmounted the seven bodies, +which held their attention. The face was hideous; but in the very +hideousness the gold worker had put cunning, power, strength. The thick +lips leered a smile of satanic triumph; the cheek bones were high, +oblique. And above the squat, wide-nostriled nose was a single eye! It +was a pearl, perfect, flawless: milk-white against the red-yellow gold. + +As they stared there seemed to come into the single eye of pearl a glow +of red, as though the heart of the great jewel were a spark of fire that +shone through the lustred surface. It was a trick of the lights, +perhaps, or the reflected colour of the overhanging brow, but to the men +who watched, it seemed that the eye held all the malevolence and cruelty +of the Pit itself. + +“The devilish thing gives a man the creeps!” growled Meynerd; and his +hand shook a bit as he took the cigarette from his lips. + +Joslyn laughed jerkily, for the spell of the thing was on him, too. + +“Better cut out a few of those high balls, Mey,” he taunted. + +A flush of resentment mounted the youth’s cheeks; but the captain +forestalled his angry reply. + +“Those figures represent the seven sins, each one enough to keep a +Chinese from his heaven. The one in the centre, though the shortest and +most horribly deformed of all, has the biggest and strongest body. That +is Deceit, the most powerful of devils. The Mongolian reasons that none +of the other devils can enter the heart of man unless deceit has entered +first.” + +“Excellent philosophy, that,” commented Wilson. + +“That is why the head rests on the centre figure and the bodies of the +others are bent forward to meet it,” continued the captain. “Notice, +too, that though the limbs are terribly twisted, and the bodies scarred +to symbolize the awful punishment the gods have inflicted on the wicked +seducers of men’s hearts, the head is perfect, showing that the devils +can still think with their one head, and plan traps for the unwary. And +the eye”--his face lighted with the enthusiasm of the collector--“the +wonderful eye that is all-seeing, alert to catch the first sign of +weakening in the lowest coolie in the kingdom. That, gentlemen, is the +thing I worked years to get; the thing that nearly cost me my life a +dozen times--the Eye of the Seven Devils! The most wonderful pearl in +the world; the pearl with a heart of fire!” + +“Funny the thief priest didn’t pry out the eye and sell it to buy his +prayers, without risking getting rid of the whole thing,” put in Joslyn. + +“That’s the wonder of the thing!” exclaimed the captain. “By some method +that no one has ever been able to fathom, the maker of the thing set the +stone in such a way that it can’t be taken out without cutting the whole +thing to pieces. The pearl appears merely pasted in its socket, but the +microscope can see, in the space around it, that the jewel is gripped in +four prongs that fit into tiny holes bored in the back of the pearl. The +space around it is so narrow that no instrument of strength, sufficient +to cut or break the prongs, can be inserted. And if it could, the very +act would cause the gem to chip, and, perhaps, split. That is the way +the maker made theft impossible!” + +“Wouldn’t mind having the pearl,” growled Meynerd, “but I’d throw the +rest of it in a sewer.” + +The tanned cheeks of Captain Richards went a dull red with anger, and +his moustache bristled; but Wilson cut in to prevent an open break. + +“Let’s have a little drink.” + +The servant, who had stuffed the last silk strip into the empty case, +straightened up. + +“High ball,” grunted Meynerd. + +“Another absinthe drip,” added Joslyn. + +“Bourbon,” ordered Wilson, and the captain nodded. + +Silence followed the going of the servant. The captain took out his +watch, glanced at it, chewed his cigar almost nervously, and lounged +back in the chair he had taken beside Joslyn. The eyes of the others +wandered around the room, but always returned to the twisted bodies of +the seven devils of the single eye. The thing of hand-wrought metal on +the table seemed to exert an uncanny influence over men who had never +known superstition. As the silent seconds passed there came a tension in +the mood of all. Each found himself continually catching the other’s +eye, only to glance hastily and sheepishly away. And the twisted devil +mouth leered at them; in the smouldering fire of the devil eye seemed +infinite scorn. + +The return of the servant with the tray of drinks made each one sit up +eagerly. The Japanese went to the captain first and held out a card. + +“Hustle the high ball,” growled Meynerd. The Jap hurried over. Meynerd’s +unsteady hands had spilled a third of the liquor before Wilson took the +small carafe from his shaking hands and poured the remainder over the +ice. The youth growled monosyllabic thanks. Captain Richards whistled as +Meynerd tossed his drink off at a gulp. + +“Going to leave us, captain?” asked Joslyn, poking his straws farther +down in the cracked ice of the absinthe. + +Captain Richards looked up from the card he held between his thumb and +forefinger. “Puzzling thing,” he prefaced. “Here’s the card of Ching Li +Chu.” His eyes went again to the pasteboard as he read: “Secretary to +the ambassador at Washington of the Imperial Chinese Republic.” + +“What does he want?” asked Wilson. “That?” He jerked his head toward the +table. + +“How on earth----” Sudden decision cleared the look of puzzlement from +the captain’s brow. “Send him in, Nesu,” he ordered. + +“Chink devils, chink secretaries,” grinned Meynerd. The liquor had +pulled his nerves together again, and his lips curved in contempt when +he caught Joslyn stealing a covert glance toward the table, as the door +opened. + +The man who entered, unquestionably a Mongolian, had a lean, intelligent +face. The eyes, but slightly aslant, looked straight before him, giving +no sign that they even saw the seated men, but stared fixedly at the +table and its thing of gold. In the centre of the room the Chinese +stopped and made a deep obeisance, once, twice, thrice. A low laugh of +contempt came from Meynerd’s lips, but the Chinese paid no heed. He +walked to the table, and for several silent seconds gazed steadily into +the eye of the pearl. With another deep bow he turned, his eyes +searching each face. + +“Captain Richards?” His voice was low, mellow, with no trace of accent. + +“I am he!” The captain rose from his seat and bowed. + +“So my information was correct; it is the Seven Devils with the True +Eye.” Again the Chinese bowed toward the figures. Once more Meynerd +laughed sneeringly. This time the Mongolian turned toward him +inquiringly. + +“You do not mock me,” he rebuked, mildly. “Your mockery is of the Seven +Devils. I would be careful, were I you.” + +“Bah!” Meynerd set down his empty glass. “I didn’t know you fellows +worshipped devils, and little gold devils on a table, at that.” + +“Nor do we.” Still that mild, even voice. “We worship our gods; but we +are careful not to incur the wrath of our devils. The gods may forgive +the ignorant mocker; the devils slay. That I believe, and I am no +coolie, but a man educated in your own universities.” + +“Drunken kid!” muttered the captain, his fingers moving along the +table-edge as he leaned against it. “You wanted to see me on business?” +he asked the Chinese. + +“Yes. I wish to pay you one hundred thousand dollars for the golden +Seven Devils of Sin!” The amazement this announcement caused showed +plainly on each man’s face. The Chinese went on: “The new republic seeks +to unite its people, but throughout the province of Chingtu it is known +that the lost Seven Devils has been taken from the country. They demand +that the new government see that it is returned if they are to believe +that government’s power. Our failure will mean a costly and bloody war, +for the Yunling mountain men are fighters who know every inch of its +vast slopes.” + +“So my six months of devious routes and constant guarding amounted to +nothing.” The captain’s lips smiled grimly, but there was a light in his +eyes that had not been there before. “I suppose the priest is being +honoured for having been told by the gods that the white dog had stolen +the thing.” + +“Prayer papers have been burning this last five months for the +hunchback,” said the Chinese, quietly. + +“Um.” The smile left the captain’s lips. He shook his head. “I will not +sell,” he declared, and there was finality in his voice. + +It seemed a full minute before any one spoke. The noiseless Jap servant +industriously picked up small tufts of cotton that had fallen to the rug +back of the table. Joslyn set his glass, with its green-tinged cracked +ice on the table, clinkingly, and the captain’s eyes left the +Mongolian’s face as the noise attracted them. Meynerd’s lips still +grinned contemptuously as he spun the piece of ice around in his empty +high-ball glass. + +“The devils can only bring sorrow to you.” The voice of the Chinese was +deep, full of sincerity. “Perhaps death, for in your country there will +be mockers, and, as I told your friend, the devils slay those who mock +them.” His deep eyes rested on Meynerd. The face of the youth went red +for an instant; then the sneer came back. + +“Like to see ’em kill me!” he said, boastfully. “A chink knife in back +might, but no pigeon-toed gang of devils with one eye could!” + +“Do not speak that way!” There was stern reproof in the tone of the +Chinese. “You may know the things of the West, but there are things of +the East that you do not know!” + +“Is that so!” Meynerd shook off the restraining hand of Wilson and stood +up. The face of the captain went white with rage, and his hands fumbled +with the handkerchief he had been in the act of lifting to his brow. + +“Be a gentleman!” he snapped. + +Meynerd paid no heed. “Here’s to you devils!” he laughed, sneeringly. +“Long may you wave--in a glass case!” + +“The mockers kotow before they die!” The words came rapidly, almost +hissingly, from the lips of the Chinese. + +“Here’s to crime!” Meynerd stood in front of the golden devils and +drained the last drops of his drink. A gasp came from the Japanese as he +backed away a step, his hand full of cotton tufts he had picked up from +the floor. Captain Richards crushed the handkerchief in his hand as he +brushed his lips. Every eye in the room was on the gently swaying man +with the glass to his lips. + +Suddenly Meynerd’s face went livid; the glass fell to the floor. Slowly +his knees bent. For a second he seemed to kneel before the leering face +of gold. His body fell forward. His forehead touched the ground. Then +the limbs straightened convulsively, and he lay still. + +The seated men jumped to their feet, with exclamations of horror. The +Chinese, face impassive, leaned over and touched the pulse of the man on +the floor. Then he looked up into the faces of the three white-faced men +who bent over him. + +“He is dead,” said the Mongolian, quietly. “The devils have slain.” + +Mechanically, involuntarily, they turned toward the hideous thing on the +table. As one the startled cry came from three pairs of lips: + +“_The Eye! The Eye!_” + +The twisted, thick lips of gold still leered at them, but where the eye +of pearl had been, only an empty socket seemed to stare down at the dead +man on the floor. + + + II. + +“Pawn to king five and checkmate.” Thornley Colton took a final puff of +his cigarette, and dropped it in the ash tray beside the chessboard. + +Sydney Thames, the apple cheeked, black-haired secretary to the blind +problemist, laughed ruefully. “I almost believe that you could beat me +with pawns alone, Thorn,” he declared, looking over the pieces on the +board. + +“Your whole game is attack,” Colton observed. “You forget all about +defence. Another?” + +Thames merely nodded, and silently rearranged the pieces on the board. +“Three and pawn again?” he asked. + +“Yes, if you----” The ringing telephone-bell on the desk broke in, and +Sydney rose to answer it. He returned almost on the run. + +“It’s Captain Richards, at the Wanderers’ Club,” he began, breathlessly. +“He wants you at once. He said something about a murder, and the eye of +some seven devils of sin, as near as I could understand.” + +Thornley Colton’s mobile face, whose paleness was strikingly accentuated +by the great blue circles of the tortoise-rimmed library glasses that +shielded his sightless eyes from all glares, lighted up with interest. +“Is he still on the wire?” He rose as he asked the question. + +Thames shook his head. “He blurted out the message and rang right off. +He seemed positive you’d come.” + +A faint smile came to Thornley Colton’s lips. “I guess he knew that a +single breath from the Orient would interest me.” He touched the +call-button on the desk that would summon the big black automobile +instantly, at any hour of the day or night. “I hadn’t any idea Captain +Richards had returned. I haven’t seen him for years.” The smile left his +face. “My fingers have been itching to see those wonderful Seven Devils +I’ve heard so much about.” + +“Your interest in things Chinese is beyond me,” confessed Sydney, as he +followed the blind man out of the room and down the stairs. + +“You were in college the last four years I spent in China, Sydney.” +Colton spoke as the chauffeur closed the tonneau-door of the touring +car, and threw in the gears. “The lure of the East has never gotten out +of my veins. To a man who can see, China must be wonderful. To me it is +marvellous. Old, satiated of every human emotion before we discovered +emotion; a view-point as incomprehensible as the hereafter itself; a +character that cannot be visualized--why, Sydney, to men of eyes, the +lure of China is the lure of a beautiful picture. To me it is the lure +of the unattainable.” + +“Something like the mystery of woman?” asked Sydney Thames, seriously. + +“Not at all.” The slim cane waved an impatient gesture over the side of +the car. “The so-called mystery of woman is her constantly shifting +view-point dependent on outside influences; the mystery of the Chinese +is his undeviating view-point.” + +“Too deep for me,” laughed Thames; then he swung open the door as the +car stopped before the great Gothic door-way of the Wanderers’ Club. + +The mantle of tragedy hung heavily over the luxurious, exclusive +interior of the famous club as they entered. In the main lounging-room a +small group of members talked in hushed whispers, and their nervous +starts at each sound belied the reputations most of them had gained as +travellers in countries where danger lurked constantly. The servitors, +usually alert, swift to receive and execute an order, moved with lagging +footsteps. Thornley Colton recognised the atmosphere of uneasiness +immediately, and a cynical smile flashed across his thin lips as he +understood the cause. The Wanderers, rich seekers of excitement and +danger in foreign countries, hard-headed, with nerves of steel when face +to face with violent death, had fallen under the spell of the uncanny, +the supernatural. + +The chief steward, from his vantage-point at the head of the stairs, +spied them and hurried down. + +“It’s--they’re upstairs, sir.” A scared note was in his voice. “The +physician has just this minute arrived. The police haven’t been told. +Captain Richards thought maybe---- It’s terrible, sir.” + +“Very, Peters,” nodded Colton, absently, as he followed the man up the +broad staircase, and to himself he muttered, “Lucky the police haven’t +had a chance to bungle it. Very, very lucky.” + +The instant they opened the door Captain Richards bounded across the +floor to meet them. “Thank God you came, Mr. Colton!” he cried, shaking +the hand of the blind man with more than heartiness. + +“Who was it?” asked Colton. + +“Meynerd. The doctor’s trying to find the cause of death now.” He nodded +his head toward the broad leather couch against the wall, with its grim +occupant, and the physician bending over it. + +Colton asked a dozen crisp, terse questions. The answers he got told him +the whole story. The captain introduced him to every one in the room, +and Colton shook their hands, even to the obsequious Japanese servant, +who stood patiently awaiting orders, near the wall. + +The doctor finished his examination and straightened up. +“Heart-failure,” he announced. “Brought on by alcoholic excesses, I +should judge, and probably superinduced by excitement.” + +“Strange that the hand of God should have descended at the exact moment +chosen by a thief to steal the pearl,” remarked Colton quietly. + +“You don’t think it’s murder?” There was a queer chokiness in Captain +Richards’s voice. + +“_Yes!_” Colton shot out the word as he stood in the centre of the room, +turning his head slowly, as though his sightless eyes were trying to +surprise some expression of guilt on the white faces of the men. +Wilson’s hands gripped his chair-arms so tightly that the knuckles +cracked. Joslyn stretched an arm toward the glass, with its green-tinged +ice on the table, but withdrew it quickly, to let his hands fall on his +knees. The Japanese servant’s foot shifted nervously over a small wad of +cotton that had fallen from his hands, minutes before. Only the Chinese +was unmoved. + +“Neither the gods nor the devils murder,” he said. “They kill.” + +The blind man nodded toward him, slowly. “True,” he answered, and his +voice was serious. “But when the killing is done by human instruments, +the law calls it murder.” + +“You are of the West,” shrugged the Mongolian. + +“But the whole thing is impossible!” There seemed almost a whine of +incredulous protest in Captain Richards’s voice. + +“Does the impossible happen?” Colton’s voice was sharp, curt. “No! But +the improbable does! A hundred times a day! Every time a perfect match +fails to strike an improbable thing has happened. Because that thing on +the table hypnotized your eyes into waking the superstition that is the +mental appendix handed down through the thousand centuries, you say that +_it_ is impossible. What is impossible? Meynerd’s death? The fact that +he was killed? My statement that he was murdered? Or do you mean that +each one of you is so wise that no one could have deceived you? Yet the +eye is gone! And even if the devils had killed Meynerd, would they have +stolen their own eye?” + +Each crisp sentence fairly sizzled as he shot it out. The hand that held +his slim, hollow cane, that gave its messages to his super-sensitive +finger-tips, waved up and down for emphasis, touching blindly the table, +the golden devils, and some part of each man’s body as he paced back and +forth across the floor. + +“A man can’t give another man heart-failure to kill him,” declared the +physician, pompously. + +“Can’t!” The smile on the problemist’s face was sardonic as he faced the +doctor. “Then no murder was ever committed. If a man’s heart didn’t fail +he’d keep right on living. What caused Meynerd’s heart to fail is the +thing we’ve got to find out. Do you know how Meynerd fell?” + +“No, immaterial details----” + +“Very material!” The blind man interrupted brusquely. “Every +diagnostician should be a detective, and I might mention right here that +one of the greatest surgeons and diagnosticians in America is a blind +man. You should know that a man standing as Meynerd stood, suddenly +stricken with heart-disease, would fall flat on his back. Yet he fell on +his knees, his body bent forward so that his forehead touched the ground +for an instant before it relaxed.” + +“By Jove--I supposed----” the physician sputtered his chagrin. Then his +face brightened. “Some caustic, causing a griping in the intestines.” + +“Exactly.” The sharpness had gone from the detective’s voice now, and he +spoke in his old calm, even tone. + +“He drank a toast!” Even as he spoke, the doctor’s foot crunched a bit +of the broken glass on the floor. + +“You’d have to analyze the rug,” reminded Colton. “And who had the +chance?” He looked around inquiringly. + +“Wilson poured his drink!” The words came in a gasp from Joslyn. + +Wilson sprang to his feet with an oath. “Are you accusing me of killing +him?” He snarled the question, but his face was white. + +“Meynerd had gulped his drink even before Ching Li Chu entered,” +suddenly remembered Captain Richards. “There was only a few drops of the +melted ice-water in his glass when he stood before the Seven Devils.” + +“There are poisons that act after minutes have passed.” The even, +monotonous voice of the Chinese broke in. + +“Do you think the poisoner knew to the second when Meynerd’s drunken +folly would take the turn it did?” demanded Colton; and each man in the +room recognised the menace in his tone. + +A gleam flashed to the eyes of the Mongolian for an instant, then +vanished. “The instruments of the gods and the devils cannot fail,” he +answered, quietly. + +“No poison known could be timed like that,” declared Colton, positively. + +“Right!” growled Wilson, as he resumed his seat and darted a glance of +new-born hatred across the room toward the man who had virtually accused +him of the murder. + +Again came silence as the blind man stood in the centre of the room, +alternately brushing the rug where lay the untouched pieces of the +broken high-ball glass, and swishing at his trouser-leg. Across his +high, white forehead, and at his eye-corners behind the round, blue +glasses, innumerable fine lines deepened as his wonderful brain worked: +visualizing each object in the room, every detail in the picture, every +action that must have taken place at the instant of hopeless confusion +when Meynerd had pitched forward on the floor. + +Immovable, the men watched, each tense for the first word or movement to +break the suspense. Sydney Thames sat in his chair, with his eyes fixed +on the devils of gold. Ever since he had entered the room the thing on +the table had held him fascinated. More sinister, more fiendish than +ever, without its single eye of pearl, the empty eye socket seemed to +glare at him as though it gloated over the repugnant fascination it +exerted. Sydney had heard the captain’s story; in his mind’s eye he +could picture the toast, the sneers, the fall. _Had_ the devils killed +Meynerd?--as the Chinese had said they would. Then his eyes narrowed +slightly as they went to the Mongolian, whose impassive face showed +nothing of the thoughts behind the bright, slit eyes. He had said that +death would follow. He was a Chinese--of a race to whom a life means +nothing; a race of mystery. Then his eyes went to the Jap servant who +stood against the wall, patiently waiting permission to leave the room; +then, at the two scowling men, who carefully avoided each other’s +glances as they stared straight ahead of them--at nothing. Wilson had +poured the drink. Why had Joslyn been so quick to tell the fact? + +Suddenly the swishing taps of the blind man’s cane ceased; the lines +across his forehead and at his eye-corners vanished. “There is one way.” +He spoke apparently to himself. “Only one way.” + +He crossed the room to the couch where the dead man lay, his face +covered with a handkerchief. He pulled aside the coat, and unloosed a +button of the thin silk shirt. From his vest-pocket he took a small +rubber band, and the watching men saw him put it around the middle +finger of his right hand, until the black rubber strands were deep +sunken in the flesh. Then, gingerly, as though he were testing the heat +of a red-hot stove, he opened the shirt, and with the tourniqueted +finger gently touched the skin of Meynerd. Slowly, very slowly, the +finger moved over the cold flesh of the dead man, then stopped. + +“See, doctor!” He held the banded finger aloft. The physician’s +ejaculation of amazement was echoed by every other man in the room, but +the unemotional Chinese and the well-trained servant. On the tip of the +blind man’s finger was a drop of blood! + +“And see here!” His fingers, holding the shirt back, exposed an inch or +so of the dead man’s skin. Four men bent their heads to see the small +smear of red Colton’s finger had left when it had brushed away the +single blood-drop. + +“I don’t understand.” There was no doubt of the physician’s +bewilderment. + +Colton pulled the coat back and stood erect. “The most diabolically +primitive of all murderous weapons,” he said. “A poisoned dart.” + +“But who? How?” gasped the captain. + +“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” the blind man said, curtly. With +his pocket-knife he carefully cut the strands of the rubber and gently +massaged the swollen, blood-congested finger. “A nasty thing to try to +locate with delicate finger-tips,” he remarked, casually. “A big chance +that the thing hadn’t penetrated its full length, as this one had, and a +scratch would have meant another dead man.” + +Sydney Thames’s face lost its last vestige of colour as he realized that +once again the blind man had toyed with death. A hundred times had +Thames seen the problemist--the benefactor who had picked him up on the +bank of the English river from which came his only name--take his life +in his hands for the sake of solving one of the crime-puzzles he loved; +but always before there had been a chance for a fight against men with +lesser brains. This time a single scratch of his feeling finger would +have killed him instantly, horribly; just as the mocker of the Seven +Devils had been killed by the man among them who had coveted the +wonderful pearl that had been the eye. And that man---- + +Joslyn laughed a jerky laugh of nervousness as he turned away and +reached out his hand for the glass that had held his absinthe. The ice +had melted partially, and there was a half-inch or so of the pale-green +liquid showing through the cracked-ice crystals. + +“Don’t touch that glass!” The command came, shot-like, from the lips of +Colton. He lowered the slim cane that had touched Joslyn’s leg and +warned him of the movement. + +Joslyn withdrew his hand as if it had suddenly touched fire. + +“Why? Wh-y?” he gasped, and his face was pasty white. + +“Because I don’t want you to kill yourself!” The blind man’s hand moved +to pick up the glass. He held it up and gingerly poked into the ice with +his fingers. A grim smile came to his lips, and he dumped the whole +thing on the polished top of the mahogany table. Colton’s eight fingers +seemed to touch every piece of ice in a single instant, so quickly did +they move. Then his fore-finger separated a small pile of +curiously-shaped crystals. + +“Broken glass!” The exclamation came from the physician. + +Colton corroborated him with a nod, and spoke to the still pasty-faced +Joslyn. “Some of the smaller particles would surely have gone down your +throat.” + +Joslyn’s Adam’s apple moved convulsively for a moment. “What is it?” he +gulped, finally. + +“The broken glass-tube that was used to shoot the poisoned dart; +probably not more than two inches long, because of the short distance, +and of the thinnest glass, with just this object in view.” + +“But how on earth did it get there?” puzzled Captain Richards. + +“I’ll bet it wasn’t there five minutes ago!” Wilson cried; and every man +in the room remembered Joslyn’s movement toward the glass a few minutes +before. + +The suave voice of the Chinese cut in. “Might I be informed how one who +is blind could know of the glass?” he asked. + +“Because the cracked ice made an absolutely perfect hiding-place for +fine pieces of broken glass. If dropped on the floor with the bigger, +thicker pieces of high-ball glass, the difference would have been +immediately noted. I discovered that it had been a frappéd drink when I +walked up and down before the table and talked.” + +Ching Li Chu rose and bowed gravely toward the golden thing on the +table. “Truly, the wisdom of the gods and of the devils is infinite,” he +said, in his even voice. “But one man has such a drink. The devils chose +him to protect their emissary!” + +“Pretty philosophy,” admitted Colton, “made grim by the fact that some +one must suffer for being the devils’ tool.” He turned to face the +silent Japanese servant, who stood still by the wall. “Tell the steward +he can notify the police now, Nesu.” + +The sunny Japanese smile that had been missing so long came to the +little servitor’s face, and he took a step forward to obey the order. + +“What about the pearl?” asked Captain Richards, suddenly. +“This man shouldn’t get out until he has been searched. A +sixty-five-thousand-dollar gem would tempt ’most any one.” + +Colton broke in, amazedly: “Hasn’t the search been made yet?” + +“No.” The captain stammered over the monosyllable. “I called you as +quickly as I could get to a telephone, after warning every one to stay +in the room. I knew you were a member here, and clever at this sort of +thing. The police are such asses, you know, and the scandal----” + +Again the blind man cut him short. “Because there seemed no possible way +by which the jewel could have been stolen--if the stories I heard of the +famous Seven Devils, when I was first in China twenty years ago, are +true--logically the jewel could be nowhere. Is that it?” he asked. + +“Something like that.” The tan on the captain’s cheeks was a deeper +tinge than usual. + +“The jewel is nowhere.” The Chinese spoke solemnly, earnestly, almost +reverently. “The devils have merely hidden it from the sight of mockers. +My government will give you one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for +the Seven Devils without the True Eye.” + +“So that’s it!” The captain’s voice was almost a shout; the tone one of +a man who has made a great discovery. “_You_ have it! You killed Meynerd +to make me sell, eh?” He advanced a step, threateningly. + +“The police will attend to that part!” warned the blind man, curtly. +“Search Nesu--or go yourself.” + +He turned to the table, and his wonderful fingers, each one an eye that +could see things the eye of a normal man could not discern, touched the +twisted limbs of one of the Seven Devils. + +“Come over nearer the light, Nesu,” ordered Captain Richards, and the +serious-faced Japanese followed him around the table. + +The attention of the silent men in the room was divided between the +search of the Jap and Colton’s examination of the thing on the table. At +times the blind man’s fingers moved swiftly over the dull-gold surface; +at others they seemed to rest for seconds, unmoving, only to resume +their journey, slowly. Each man in the room understood, subconsciously, +that those marvellous finger-tips would give to the sightless man a +mind-picture as perfect as that their eyes had given them--more perfect, +perhaps. + +“All right!” There was a growl of chagrin in the captain’s voice, as he +finished the search. The little Jap pattered out. + +“Didn’t find it, eh?” Colton spoke idly, without raising his head. His +right forefinger was gently probing into the empty eye-socket. He put +his hand in his vest-pocket for an instant, then felt again where the +pearl had been, first with one finger, then another. + +“Strange,” they heard him murmur. “Strange.” Then he whirled to face +them. “The prongs that held the pearl are unbent and unbroken! They are +exactly as they were when they gripped the jewel! Yet it is gone!” + +“I want to search you, Ching!” There was no mistaking the threat in +Captain Richards’s tone this time. + +Calmly, disdainfully, the Mongolian raised his arms and stood ready. +Richards explored every thread of his clothing. There was no doubt he +had done similar things before; not a pin could have escaped him. He +stepped back with a muttered curse of bafflement. + +“Go through me, too.” It was a snarl from Joslyn; the snarl of a man +whose nerves are raw. + +No second invitation was needed. Thornley Colton stood leaning against +the table, his back toward the golden devils. He idly swished his cane +and apparently watched every move. Wilson was searched--and there was +nothing. + +“The thief who had brains and nerve enough to commit that theft would +certainly know enough not to have the pearl in his clothing,” observed +Colton, quietly. + +“It’s in the room here, then,” growled the loser of the pearl, pacing +the floor. “I’ll tear it apart! That jewel was worth sixty-five +thousand!” + +“You haven’t searched Meynerd’s clothes yet. Every one in the room had a +chance to secrete it there--temporarily,” suggested Colton. + +The captain’s face went white, and he shuddered as his eyes went to the +body of the man whose death had been caused by the thing of gold he had +brought into the room. “I’m not a ghoul,” he choked. “The police can +attend to that part of it.” + +“I think I hear them coming now; the tread is unmistakable.” The +problemist took a firmer grip on his cane with the hand that was not in +his pocket. “They can mess things as badly as they want to now; I’ve +finished.” He took a step toward the door, then turned to face them--the +captain, the physician, who had not spoken for minutes, Joslyn, Wilson, +and the silent Chinese. “If you’ll bring the Seven Devils to my house at +six-thirty this evening, captain, I will show you the pearl, and +handcuff the man who killed Meynerd!” Another step, and he halted again. +“All of you must come, for only the guilty one will want to stay away. +_All_, especially Ching Li Chu!” + + + III. + +Guided by the touch of Sydney Thames’s sleeve against his, the blind man +made his way through the crowd of curious, idle persons, whom the sight +of a policeman entering a building always attracts in New York. From the +precinct station around the corner had come two uniformed men, and two +detectives on the run, to answer the murder-call that had gone out. +Colton and his secretary had met them coming up the stairs, and the +problemist had given curt nods to their gruff greetings. Nearly every +detective in the city knew the blind man; and he knew all of them by the +sound of their voices, just as he knew the voices of a thousand other +men. A hundred times his abilities had made their efforts look +ridiculous, and scores of the city-paid sleuths refused to believe that +he was blind. Nor did any one in the morbid crowd that opened before him +suspect that the slight touch of cloth against cloth was guiding him in +the darkness that had been his since birth. + +Leaning back in the soft cushions of the tonneau, Thornley Colton +lighted a cigarette and took several deep puffs. The machine had started +without orders, as it always did when there was any one around who might +hear. For several blocks they went in silence; then Colton leaned +forward. + +“Osmuhn’s, Fifth Avenue, Michael,” he directed. + +“A jewellery shop?” asked Sydney Thames, in surprise. + +“Yes. I am going to make sure of every property for the last scene. +There can’t be a chance of failure!” There was an ominous ring in his +voice. + +“You speak as though you knew the murderer and the thief!” cried Thames, +in amazement. “I don’t see----” + +“You _do_ see!” interrupted the blind man, with unconscious sharpness. +“Like the average person, you see too much. To any one with perfect eyes +the whole thing is a jumble, for the murder of Meynerd was +planned--devilishly planned--to make possible the one minute of hopeless +confusion necessary to steal the jewel. The eyes of the men in that room +could see but one thing, then--the mocker of the devils. Nothing could +have drawn their gaze from Meynerd! That is the one fault of eyes. In +great crises they numb every other sense!” + +“But if you know the murderer, why not arrest him at once?” asked +Sydney, his brain trying to fix upon the one man who could be guilty. + +“Because I’m not a policeman. The arrest of the guilty person is always +secondary, with me, to the complete solving of a problem. A crime-puzzle +is never solved until the guilt of the prisoner is established beyond +_all_ question. No, Sydney, I’m not a detective, for a detective +arrests, and then tries to fix the guilt. I fix the guilt first. That is +the problem in this case!” + +“Joslyn and Wilson certainly acted queer,” mused Sydney. “The Chinese, +too, seemed strange.” A new thought flashed to his mind. “There is +something Oriental about that murder!” he exclaimed, suddenly. “A dart, +and a poison which could act like that!” + +Colton nodded as he flicked his cigarette into the street. “Devilishly +Oriental, Sydney,” he said, quietly. + +“Ching Li Chu!” gasped Sydney. “He----” + +“Is secretary of a foreign legation, and therefore immune from arrest. +Also, I think he could prove absolutely that he was standing in such a +position that he could not have shot the poisoned dart at Meynerd!” + +The machine swung into the curb before the shop of Osmuhn & Son. Colton +alighted and hurried into the shop, followed by Sydney. He knew every +step here, for he had learned them in the days when the problem of the +Thousand Facets of Fire had interested him. + +The elder Osmuhn came forward with a smile of welcome and extended hand. +Colton swung his slim stick under his left arm and extended his left +hand; the other had been in his pocket since they had left the room in +the Wanderers’ Club. + +“I want to get an imitation pearl the size of this finger-tip, with +small holes drilled in the back at exactly these distances apart.” He +drew his right hand from his pocket, and Thames saw that his right +index-finger was smudged with ink, and on the middle finger were four +dots of black, at equal distances around the finger-tip. “A bit of ink +from my fountain pen on the four prongs, then I got the marks, to tell +me where the holes had been, when I poked my middle finger into the +eye-socket,” he explained to his secretary. + +“Come into my office,” requested Osmuhn. “We have some imitation gems +that we use merely to show sizes. They wouldn’t fool an expert for a +minute.” + +“I don’t want them to,” Thornley Colton smiled, faintly. “I only want +him to feel the gem.” + +“Ah, another of your problems.” Osmuhn pulled open a velvet-lined +drawer. “Hold out your finger, please.” He adjusted a small caliper over +the tip, and with a smaller one measured the distances between the dots. +“How soon do you want it?” he asked, when he had made several cabalistic +notes on his small desk pad. + +“As soon as possible.” + +“In two hours, then.” + +Colton nodded and hurried out. + +“Police headquarters,” he ordered, when the tonneau-door had clicked +shut behind Sydney. + +“So soon?” asked the secretary, in wonderment. + +“Griffith and Jensen, the two detectives we passed on the stairs, are, +perhaps, the most dull-witted in New York. Naturally they’d be on hand +in a case like this. The thing will be bungled hopelessly if I let them +have their way. After they have been shown the facts I gathered”--a grim +smile hovered on his lips for a second--“they’ll have every one in the +room under arrest, even Captain Richards. I want them all--_all_--at my +house to-night.” + +Thames knew the futility of further questions. Colton would do the thing +in his own way, and explain when the time came. So they rode in silence +to the big building that housed the central departments of the big +force. + +“While I’m inside, Sydney, call up Shrimp and tell him to get an inch +auger and the most powerful pocket tubular flash-light he can buy.” + +“An auger and a flash-light?” repeated the secretary. + +“More scenery,” explained the blind man, laconically. “If I had been in +the room when the murder was committed, my lack of eyes would have +enabled me to detect the murderer-thief in the very act. Now I must +carefully work on his nerves until I have the confession. And I’ll do +it!” Again there was the ominous ring in his voice that Sydney had +noticed every time the blind man spoke of the murderer. + +With a curt nod of emphasis, Colton turned on his heel and walked +briskly into headquarters, unerringly finding his way through the +corridors he had travelled many times before. + +There was no doubt of The Fee’s delight when Sydney Thames gave him the +strange order. “Gee! Anoder case!” came his squeal of joy over the wire. +“An’ the arm I got broke in the gilded-glove thing is all right. You bet +I’ll get ’em!” + +Sydney smiled as he rang off. Nothing pleased the freckle-faced, +blue-eyed boy, with the slightly-twisted nose, who had become a member +of the Colton household at the conclusion of a particularly baffling +murder case, like participation in one of the blind man’s problems. But +since the affair of the gilded glove, Colton had been careful to keep +the irrepressible youngster out of all harm’s way. + +For half-an-hour Sydney sat in the automobile and puzzled over the theft +and the murder, the use of the imitation eye, the request for an auger +and a flash-light. Then Colton came out of headquarters. + +“One more stop,” he said, as the car glided away from the curb. “Five +o’clock,” he announced, as his fingers touched the face of the +crystalless watch in his pocket. “Just time for the call, a hurried +bite, and then the dénouement.” He leaned forward to speak to the +driver. “The Waldorf,” was the order he gave. + +At the big desk of the famous hotel, Colton’s low-voiced inquiry brought +an involuntary ejaculation of amazement from Sydney Thames. The blind +man had asked for the Chinese ambassador. + +“Not here!” declared the man at the desk with a positiveness that only +hotel-clerks can assume when they are lying. + +“Tell him I’d like to see him in regard to the Seven Devils of Sin.” +Colton’s voice was quiet and even, but there was something in it that +commanded respect--and got it. + +“I’ll see!” The clerk turned to the house switchboard, and a few minutes +later Thames and the blind man were being ushered to the suite of the +diplomat. The ambassador, unlike his secretary, who had worn clothes of +the latest cut, was dressed in robes rich with embroidery. He looked at +them inquiringly as they entered, and the man at his side bowed deeply. + +“His excellency bids you welcome,” the interpreter said, in precise +English. + +“I came to tell you that the eye of the Seven Devils has been stolen, +and one of my countrymen murdered to make the theft possible,” Colton +said, without preamble or preface. + +The interpreter might have been a graven image for all the expression +that came to his face. He bowed again, and spoke in Chinese to the +ambassador. When the diplomat had answered him, he spoke again to +Colton. + +“His excellency says that the thing of which you speak is impossible. +The devils would not allow it. The eye of the Seven Devils of Sin +disappears for a week every hundred years, and has done so for centuries +at the Yunling temple.” + +“Ah!” There was a note of quiet satisfaction in the problemist’s voice +as though sudden light had been thrown on an obscure point. “How did his +excellency know where the devils were?” he asked, gravely. + +For several minutes the two Chinese talked. Colton stood in the middle +of the floor, idly switching his trouser-leg with his slim stick, +apparently paying no attention to the two Chinese. But Sydney Thames +knew that the keen ears of the blind man were taking in every word; for +he knew that the problemist understood the language perfectly! What were +the two Mongolians talking about? Why the discussion before such a +simple question could be answered? + +Then the interpreter spoke. “The gods decreed that his excellency should +know the exact place and the hour at which it would be ready,” he said, +solemnly. “The devils stirred to anger the people of Chingtu against the +white rogue who so cleverly outwitted the Yunling mountain men. But the +gods found him, after months had passed, so the anger of the devils +might be appeased and the people made content.” + +“Thank you.” + +Sydney Thames thought he detected a dryness in the words, but the look +on the blind man’s face as he left the room augured ill for some one. + +“I can’t see how apparently intelligent men can believe such rot!” +declared Sydney, impatiently. + +“The undeviating view-point, Sydney, the undeviating view-point. That +religion has been ingrained for centuries and tens of centuries. No +Western knowledge can ever change it.” A peculiar smile came to his +lips. “They never consider the incongruity of the gods helping them find +devils--no more than they would consider a human life beside that thing +of gold we left on the table at the club.” + +Thames tried to read the expression on the blind man’s face; but there +was no expression. Was the Chinese the murderer? Then what could the +problemist do alone? What had been the object of those apparently +irrelevant questions? And why had Colton pretended he knew no Chinese. + +“One thing more, Sydney.” The problemist stopped beside the operator’s +desk at the telephone-booths. “Call up the club and tell the president +that I’ll contribute enough to have that upper hall re-decorated. Tell +him that the workmen will be there to-night. It’s about time it was +fixed.” + +Sydney asked no questions this time. He merely obeyed the order. During +the hurried, silent meal that followed, he was all at sixes and sevens, +and his brain fairly reeled as the questions raced, shuttlelike, through +his mind. The Chinese had known the exact hour the thing would be +unpacked at the Wanderers’ Club. The secretary had virtually threatened +Meynerd with death. Yet Colton had said Ching Li Chu had not been in a +position to shoot the poisoned dart. Who had been in the right position, +and how did the blind man know? He had not asked the positions of the +men. There were Wilson and Joslyn. What of them? He remembered stories +he had heard of the men. Joslyn was an absinthe-drinker, supposed to +have an independent income. But what was the source of that income? +Sydney had never heard. Wilson was noted for his temper--but the crime +was not that of a man with temper. It was cold-blooded, devilish. + +“Six o’clock.” Colton paid his check and hurried down the winding aisle +of tables, his brain unconsciously counting the steps it had registered +when he entered. “Get me a paper, Sydney,” he asked, when they were on +the side-walk once more. + +Sydney hailed a boy and bought one. At the first sight of the black +headlines he gasped aloud. + +“They’ve arrested Nesu!” he cried. “The two detectives took him to +headquarters!” + +He saw again the quiet little Jap; the one man he had never suspected! +Colton had said that the murder was devilishly Oriental; he had said +that the Chinese had not committed it. The Japanese was the guilty one! +He must have been standing at the side of the table opposite Meynerd, +for Sydney had seen the cotton tufts he had dropped. And the police had +beaten the blind man; they had gotten ahead of the problemist who had +scorned them so often. Sydney could see them laughing up their sleeves +at the man he loved. + +“It’s a shame, Thorn!” he choked. + +“It is,” admitted Colton, quietly. “But better a live prisoner than a +dead freeman. I asked the chief to arrest Nesu, for he would have been +the next victim of the poisoned dart!” + +“The next----” began Sydney, dully; but Colton did not let him finish. + +“Yes, but we haven’t time to discuss it now. Run up to Osmuhn’s, and get +the fake pearl. I’ll take the car, and you can come home in the subway. +There’s a little job Shrimp and I have to do.” + +Once more Thames silently did as he was told, and when he got back to +the old-fashioned, brownstone house in the upper eighties, he found the +blind man carefully studying two deep scratches in the polished top of +the library table. + +“All right, Shrimp,” called Colton, without raising his head. + +Thames looked around, but could see no sign of the boy; he was not in +the hall, nor in the music-room. He opened his lips for the question, +then the electric front-door bell tinkled its announcement. + +“The jewel! Quick!” Sydney Thames thrust the imitation pearl into +Colton’s hand. For a second the blind man rubbed it between his flexible +fingers. With a nod of satisfaction he dropped it carelessly into his +lower vest-pocket, and was sitting on the table, feet dangling, smoking +a cigarette, when the servant entered to announce the four men. + +Captain Richards came first, and in his arms, held as carefully as +though it were fragile glass, was the Seven Devils. He grunted in relief +as he set it down on the table and mopped his sweat-beaded forehead. +Ching Li Chu, who had been at his heels, remained standing, straight and +rigid, beside the thing of gold on the table. Joslyn, who could not seem +to keep his twitching fingers still, flopped into a chair without even a +grunt of greeting. Wilson seemed strangely cool, and calmly chewed an +unlighted cigar as he shook hands with the blind man and his secretary. + +“No trouble getting us all here together,” he grinned. “Not one of us +has dared leave the other’s sight all afternoon. Sat like bumps on a log +glaring at each other, and trying to figure which of us was a murderer.” + +“For God’s sake, get it over with!” Joslyn licked his dry lips with his +tongue, and his voice was shaky. “The police were going to arrest all of +us until their brains got untangled, and they took the right one. What +d’ye want us here for, anyway?” he demanded. + +“To show you the eye of the Seven Devils,” Colton said, quietly. He +moved the golden image along the table, and carefully placed it in the +centre, facing the five chairs that were drawn up against the wall. The +blind man was very careful of the placing, and his secretary knew that +he was putting it exactly over the scratches. Why? + +“I told you not to drink so much absinthe this afternoon, Joslyn,” put +in the captain, impatiently. “Your nerves are all gone.” He spoke to the +problemist. “Are you really going to find the eye?” he asked, and there +was a note of disbelief in his voice that Sydney Thames instantly +resented. + +A nod was Colton’s only answer. + +Richards shook his head doubtfully. “Where that infernal Jap could have +hidden the thing is beyond me. We literally tore the room to pieces, and +picked the cotton apart, tuft by tuft.” His voice changed suddenly. “Did +you find it?” he demanded. + +The blind man straightened up. “Take seats,” he invited, for he had +apparently not even heard the question. “You, too, Ching; the devils +won’t get away.” + +“The ambassador said that I must guard them,” replied the Chinese, +simply. + +“I expected he would,” declared Colton. “I saw him for a few minutes +this afternoon.” + +“You did!” The exclamation came from Captain Richards. + +“Yes. I’d like to speak to you a few minutes in private, if the others +will excuse us?” he turned to them, apologetically. + +“Long as you like,” granted Wilson, lightly. + +“Have it over with!” snarled Joslyn. + +Colton put his hand on the captain’s shoulder and drew him to a far +corner of the room. For several minutes they conversed in earnest +whispers. The blind man’s back was toward the seated men, but they could +see him making gestures of emphasis with the hand that was not resting +on the captain’s arm. + +The captain nodded emphatically, and they returned to the others. His +face was grave, unreadable, but Sydney Thames saw a look of satisfaction +gleaming in his eyes. So the blind man had convinced him that the pearl +would be recovered! + +They were all seated now, even the Chinese. Colton leaned against the +table beside the seven golden devils, and faced them. His finger-tips +felt of his crystalless watch. + +“Ten minutes of seven,” he said. “At seven o’clock the jewel will be +returned. Seven has been a mystic number for centuries.” + +Wilson laughed shortly. “You’re worse than the Chinese, Colton,” he +accused. + +“Rot!” growled Joslyn. + +“You know that seven is the number sacred to our devils?” asked the +Chinese, gravely. + +An inclination of the blind man’s head was his only answer. Silence +came. The minutes slowly ticked past. As time went the men again felt +the sinister influence of the thing of gold before them; just as the +blind man had intended they should. Joslyn could not keep his twitching +hands still. Wilson bit through his cigar and muttered a curse as it +fell to the floor. Even Captain Richards nervously tapped his vest-front +with his fingers. Sydney Thames shifted uncomfortably. What was going to +happen? Was this merely another of the irrelevant, apparently senseless +things?--like the others of the afternoon. + +Colton’s voice, low, solemn, broke the stillness. “The murderer of +Meynerd can never receive his full punishment on this earth. He has +murdered thousands!” Every man straightened in his chair. “For years he +has lived on the blood of innocent women and children, and for years I +have waited this opportunity. Thank God it has come!” + +From the lower hall came the first stroke of seven. The blind man stood +facing them, hands resting lightly on the table at his sides. The mellow +note of the second stroke came. Unconsciously each man’s muscles +tightened for something--they knew not what. Week-long seconds passed +before the gong sounded the third time. Still the blind man did not +move. He stood there as rigid as the hideous, eyeless thing of gold +beside him. + +“Do not move!” + +With the snapped-out order came darkness, black, impenetrable. An +indrawn breath sounded hissingly, sucked in through tight, clenched +teeth. + +Again the clock sounded. From over their head, behind them, came a +single shaft of soft, white light. In the small circle of brightness the +face of the Seven Devils leered at them. And over the squat, +wide-nostriled nose the single eye of pearl, perfect, flawless, gleamed +with its spark-red heart! + +An animal-like snarl broke the silence. Sydney Thames felt the sweeping +rush of a body past his chair; heard body meet body in struggle. He knew +one was the blind man. The other---- + +He made a move to rise and snap on the lights. + +Some subtle fifth sense of the blind man seemed to tell him the very +thought in his secretary’s mind. + +“Stay where you are!” came his command. “Don’t touch the lights!” + +Came a crash of a falling body. + +The blind man’s voice cut the blackness. “You would, eh!” He followed in +with a half-dozen words in Chinese. In the tone was some terrible +accusation, and they seemed to goad the other to madness. + +“Your devilish Oriental poisons will never kill another!” There was not +even a catch in the blind man’s breath; but the men who could not move a +muscle heard the sobbing gasps of the other. Suddenly came silence. Then +two sharp clicks of snapped handcuffs. + +And as though the clicks had been a signal, the lights came, and with +them the voice of Thornley Colton, quietly triumphant: + +“The murder of Ralph Meynerd will at last bring you the death you have +deserved so long, _Captain Richards_! Yes, the pearl you have been +assuring yourself you still had in your pocket is an imitation. I took +the real eye from you while we were talking in the corner. My fingers +might make me a successful pickpocket.” + +He turned to face the doorway, and there the dazed Sydney Thames saw the +wide-eyed Fee. Behind him were two stalwart detectives. + +“The prisoner I promised your chief,” Colton said, shortly. + +They came forward and jerked the cursing man to his feet. “One minute!” +commanded Colton. He faced the Chinese. “The Seven Devils was stolen +from your temple. It is yours. Take it.” + +“Damn you!” shrieked Richards. “You----” + +For a silent second Colton’s eyes seemed to stare at him, then his eyes +dropped. + +“Take it to its true owners,” repeated Colton. “But first, see!” He went +to the golden thing on the table. One hand, held cuplike, under the eye. +A finger touched the toe of one of the figures. The eye dropped to his +hand! “The true secret of the image,” he said, quietly. “The prongs, by +some method of a forgotten genius, open by the pressure of one of the +toes. That is how it was stolen in the instant you could see nothing but +the dead man before you!” + + + IV. + +An alcohol-soaked bandage around his eyes to ease the splitting headache +the loss of four hours of sleep in the afternoon had caused, Thornley +Colton sat in the darkened music-room. Hours before, the hand-cuffed +Captain Richards had been led away, cursing, raving, blaspheming. The +table in the library where had been the wonderful Seven Devils of Sin, +was empty now, but in a room at the Waldorf four sleepless Chinese +guarded the sacred thing with their lives; praying alternately to it and +to their gods in thanks. Under the waters of the Pacific had already +sped the news that the True Eye would again look from the altar of the +Yunling monastery. The Chinese ambassador had come personally to thank +Colton. He had promised the blind man honours, decorations, and Thornley +Colton had smiled them aside. + +“A curious crime; that of committing a murder to steal the thing he +already owned?” The blind man repeated the question Sydney Thames had +asked minutes before. “Yes, it was a curious crime, Sydney. But Richards +knew that he was dealing with a curious people; he had dealt with them +for thirty years. He understood perfectly that a Chinese who knew the +legend regarding the impossibility of theft would not deviate a hair’s +breadth from his century-old ideas. The devils would not let it be done; +therefore it could not be done. The disappearance of the eye--coupled +with the century vanishings which, of course, the captain knew all +about--would only make the Chinese more anxious to get the image. It +would prove to his peculiar mind that the devils had not lost their +powers in the years they had been gone. You heard him raise the price. +You saw Richards’s clever acting then; though he must have known that +Ching couldn’t be found guilty of the murder. He would have seen to it +that at the time of the killing the Chinese was in the wrong position to +shoot the dart. He was wise enough to know that police suspicion would +be immediately directed toward the Mongolian, but it was no part of his +game to have him arrested. The others could have sworn Ching could not +have committed the crime. + +“The reason for it all is very simple--money. Richards, temple-looter +for years, knew that this was his last game. No collector would have +given him more than a hundred thousand, and that would have included the +eye. He could not have substituted a gem that would deceive an expert. +And by murdering in such a way as to make the Chinese think it was the +work of the devils, he could have sold the image to the Chinese +government for two hundred thousand _without the eye_! They would have +staked their lives on the pearl re-appearing in some supernatural manner +the minute the thing was restored to the monastery. And by killing +Meynerd, Richards would gain the eye; an extra sixty-five thousand +dollars. That was the price of the boy’s life. It was Richards, too, who +sold the jade god that caused the Boxer trouble; that cost the lives of +a thousand innocent women and children, and lives of ten thousand men to +net him twenty-five thousand dollars!” + +“He did that?” gasped Sydney, horror in his tone. + +“Yes. He stole it and laid the blame on a white missionary to save his +own worthless hide. That caused the first massacre. How he aroused the +people of Chingtu over the Seven Devils I don’t know, but he had been in +China long enough to learn all of the underground methods. He must have +stayed there months to get the people in a proper spirit to make the +government willing to go to any lengths to prevent an insurrection. Then +he picked New York for the final scene. He joined the Wanderers’ years +ago, and no one knew that his money came from the loot of temples and +the blood of massacred women and children. I did, but I could do nothing +but wait. + +“See how carefully he picked his audience. Meynerd, drunken kid, could +be depended upon to mock the serious Chinese. Joslyn, whose nerves were +shattered by absinthe, would surely act suspiciously because of his very +nervousness. Then Wilson to add fuel. And the Chinese! The scene was +laid just as he has probably laid dozens of others. + +“How he learned the secret of the devils’ eye I don’t know, nor care. +Perhaps he learned it accidentally. Perhaps he picked it up in some +obscure corner of the kingdom during his years of wandering. But he +never thought that my supersensitive finger-tips would discover it, +though his bringing of Nesu to the window was done so that he could get +into a position where he could watch me. But I had found the thing in an +instant, and while he watched I carefully kept away from it. The minute +my finger felt the unbent prongs I knew they must have opened, and the +toes would be the most ingenious place for the manipulator of them. + +“It was he who notified the Chinese ambassador the exact hour he would +unpack the image. I wanted to make sure of that, so I went to the +Waldorf. I knew the thing was important enough to bring the diplomat all +the way from Washington, though I knew, too, as Richards did, that a +secretary would make the first visit.” + +“How do you know that Richards told them?” asked Sydney. “Was he the +‘gods’ they spoke of?” + +“The discussion between the ambassador and the interpreter before they +answered my question told me that. While they spoke of the gods they +mentioned a note sent the night before from New York. Of course, I was +careful to conceal the fact that I understood Chinese, because I knew +they would never tell any one of that. To them it was a decree of the +gods; and a state secret.” + +“And Richards deliberately killed Meynerd to make the one necessary +minute of confusion?” put in Sydney. + +“It didn’t matter whether it was Meynerd or not. But luck was with him; +luck and the working out of the chance on which he had invited Meynerd +as one of the party. The poisoned dart, in its short glass-tube, was in +his handkerchief. I also took that from the pocket of his frock-coat +when we talked in the library, and in it were fine glass particles. He +hadn’t even thought it necessary to get rid of the thing. A simple +crushing of the tube in his handkerchief when a breath had sent the dart +on its journey of death, the dropping of the pieces into Joslyn’s drink, +where eyes would never have seen them, was the work of an instant. Of +course, if Joslyn hadn’t had the frappéd drink Richards needed as a +hiding-place, the captain would have ordered one for himself. But there +was one break in the programme. The Jap saw the theft of the jewel.” + +“How did you know that?” + +Colton smiled grimly. “The keyboard of silence again. When I shook hands +my index-finger on the Jap’s wrist told me that his heart was pounding +like a trip hammer. A mere death would never have excited an Oriental +like that. For a time I suspected that he had shot the poisoned dart, +and the captain had stolen the jewel. But the glass in the ice instead +of the cotton, and the captain’s gentle manner toward him, proved that +they were not working together. If they had been accomplices Richards +would have acted harshly to avert suspicion. He was trying to convince +the Jap that silence would mean a share of the theft. But I knew +Richards wasn’t the kind to divide, or pay blackmail. The poisoned dart +was too easy. There wasn’t a chance to end the Jap’s life in the room, +for I knew the captain would have hardly dared bring two darts and +tubes. There was always a possibility of his being searched by the +police. At the first opportunity outside, though, puff! A dead Japanese +who would tell no tales. Therefore I had the police arrest Nesu because +Captain Richards probably had another one of his devilish darts +somewhere around the club.” + +“But the pearl?” demanded Sydney. “Why didn’t you search Richards before +we left that room?” + +“Do you think he would have taken such pains to hide the broken tube and +then have kept the pearl?” asked Colton, dryly. “He hid the gem in a +previously picked-out place when he left the room to call me on the +telephone. Suppose I had arrested him; suppose we had torn the club +apart and found the jewel. Would Captain Richards have gone to the chair +for murder? Not with an American jury, and the mass of other suspicious +things that would make more than a ‘reasonable doubt’ of his guilt. + +“So I arranged to-night’s affair for a dénouement. I knew his nerves +weren’t steel, for he had shown that when I told him to search the body +of the man he had killed. That was a little too much even for him. Then +I got the ‘eye’ while I pretended to tell him of a plan I had to make +Joslyn confess. I substituted the fake pearl that would feel just the +same in the darkness, because the whole thing depended on his having no +premature suspicion. My announcement that workmen would be on hand to +re-decorate the upper hall of the club, the place he must have chosen +because of its nearness, forced him to take the pearl from its +hiding-place to-night. He had to bring it here because I timed the thing +so that he would have no chance to find another hiding-place. During the +afternoon he probably saw to it that Joslyn kept on drinking absinthe, +though Wilson’s drinks only seemed to straighten out his nerves. + +“It was simple, very simple, but I have waited years for the +opportunity; ever since I heard the true story of the Boxer uprising +from the lips of a dying coolie who had helped to steal the jade god. I +knew my chance would come some day, and the cocksure attitude I always +took when Captain Richards was around, I knew would make Captain +Richards welcome the opportunity to amuse himself by watching me try to +solve a puzzle. That Chinese sentence I used there in the darkness told +him for the first time that I knew all about him, and he realized then +that I had been waiting for the chance his egotism had brought me.” + +Sydney Thames’s lips curved in a superior smile. “And the Chinese can +only see it as the working-out of the gods’ decree,” he murmured. + +The blind man leaned back in his chair and blew a thoughtful smoke ring +toward the ceiling. When he spoke his voice was low, almost reverent. “A +half-century ago the thing was stolen by a young priest who did not know +the secret that had been carefully guarded by the highest priests for +centuries. Fifty years later it passes into the hand of a white man, and +is brought thousands of miles to New York. A man is killed, another is +in a prison-cell, and the devils are returned by one who is blind. The +working of the gods? I wonder, Sydney, I wonder.” + + + THE END. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + Transcriber’s Notes + + +This file uses _underscores_ to indicate italic text. New original cover +art included with this ebook is granted to the public domain. + +Spelling, hyphenation, and italicisation of words like “dénouement” and +“finger-tip” are inconsistent between the different stories in the +printed source text and have not been standardised. + +The following changes and corrections have been made: + + • p. 159: Replaced “Thomas” with “Thames” in phrase “Thames could feel + the tenseness of the men’s bodies.” + • p. 159: Added comma after “servant” in phrase “He skated straight at + the Hindu servant, struck him, and bowled him over.” + • p. 213: Added period after phrase “He shook his head.” + • p. 231: Replaced “it” with “its” in phrase “in which the gilt glove + found at the woman’s throat had been carried to prevent its + handling.” + • p. 285: Replaced closing single with double quotation mark after + phrase “Shrimp and I are going to catch the boat for Brazil at five + o’clock!” + • p. 312: Replaced closing single with double quotation mark after + phrase “To me it is the lure of the unattainable.” + • p. 159: Replaced “its” with “it” in phrase “the law calls it murder.” + • p. 324: Removed stray apostrophe before phrase “I don’t see----.” + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78643 *** diff --git a/78643-h/78643-h.htm b/78643-h/78643-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..31ad725 --- /dev/null +++ b/78643-h/78643-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15030 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + <head> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title>Thornley Colton Blind Detective | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + body { margin-left: 8%; 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} + table#toc {width:100%;max-width:24em; } + .transcribers-notes { width: 80%; margin: auto; padding: 0 1em; + color:black; background-color: #E3E4FA; border: 1px solid silver; + page-break-before:always;margin-top:4em; } + </style> + </head> + + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78643 ***</div> + + +<p class='c000'></p> + +<div class='rj-wrapper'> + +<div class='rj-header'> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='large'>THORNLEY COLTON</span></div> + <div><span class='small'>BLIND DETECTIVE</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c001'> +</div> + +<div> + <h1 class='c002'><span class="title-a"><span class='sc'>Thornley Colton</span></span><br><span class="title-b">BLIND DETECTIVE</span></h1> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><span class='small'>BY</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='large'>CLINTON H. STAGG</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='xsmall'>AUTHOR OF “HIGH SPEED”</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='c003 figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/publogo.jpg' alt='a woodblock image of a sailing ship' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><span class='small'>NEW YORK</span></div> + <div><span class='large'>G. HOWARD WATT</span></div> + <div>558 MADISON AVE.</div> + <div><span class='small'>1923</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div><span class='small'><i>Copyright, 1923, by</i></span></div> + <div><span class='xsmall'>G. HOWARD WATT</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div><span class='small'><i>Printed in the United States of America</i></span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<table class='table0' id='toc'> + <tr> + <td class='c006'> </td> + <td class='c007'><span class='xsmall'><span class='sc'>Page</span></span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The First Problem</span>—</td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class="toc-indent">The Keyboard of Silence,</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#PROBLEM-FIRST'>7</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'> </td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Second Problem</span>—</td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class="toc-indent">Unto the Third Generation,</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#PROBLEM-SECOND'>56</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'> </td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Third Problem</span>—</td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class="toc-indent">The Money Machines,</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#PROBLEM-THIRD'>94</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'> </td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Fourth Problem</span>—</td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class="toc-indent">The Flying Death,</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#PROBLEM-FOURTH'>130</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'> </td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Fifth Problem</span>—</td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class="toc-indent">The Thousand Facets of Fire,</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#PROBLEM-FIFTH'>168</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'> </td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Sixth Problem</span>—</td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class="toc-indent">The Gilded Glove,</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#PROBLEM-SIXTH'>209</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'> </td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Seventh Problem</span>—</td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class="toc-indent">The Ringing Goblets,</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#PROBLEM-SEVENTH'>258</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'> </td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Eighth Problem</span>—</td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class="toc-indent">The Eye of the Seven Devils,</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#PROBLEM-EIGHTH'>301</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span><span class='xxlarge'>THORNLEY COLTON</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='xlarge'>Blind Detective</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'><a id='PROBLEM-FIRST'></a></p> +<div> + <h2 class='c005'><span class="problem-a">THE FIRST PROBLEM</span> <br> <br> <span class="problem-b">THE KEYBOARD OF SILENCE</span></h2> +</div> + +<h3 class='c009'>I.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Not often did mere man attract attention in the +famous dining-room of the “Regal,” but men and +women alike, who were seated near the East Archway, +raised their eyes to stare at the man who +stood in the doorway, calmly surveying them. The +smoke-glass, tortoise-shell library spectacles, which +made of his eyes two great circles of dull brown, +brought out the whiteness of the face strikingly. +The nose, with its delicately sensitive nostrils, was +thin and straight; the lips, now curved in a smile, +somehow gave one the impression that, released by +the mind, they would suddenly spring back to their +accustomed thin, straight line. For a smile seemed +out of place on that pale, masterful face, with its +lean, cleft chin. The snow-white hair of silky +fineness that curled away from the part to show +the pink scalp underneath contrasted sharply with +the sober black of the faultless dinner-coat that fell +in just the proper folds from the broad shoulders +and deep chest.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The eyes of the girl at the sixth table seemed to +be held, fascinated. The elder woman, who was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>with her, toyed with her salad and conformed to +convention by stealing covert glances at the man +in the archway, and the square-chinned, clean-looking +young man who made the third of the party +stared openly, unashamed; but his eyes held not +the other diners’ rude questioning, nor yet the girl’s +frank fascination.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You are staring, Rhoda,” rebuked the elder +woman mildly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The girl turned her eyes with a little sigh.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What wonderful character there is in his face!” +she murmured.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He is a wonderful character,” asserted the man, +his face lighting up boyishly, his tone one of +admiration.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You know him?” Both asked it in a breath, +eyes eager.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. He is Thornley Colton, man about town, +club member, musician, whose recreation is the +solving of problems that baffle other men. It was +he who found the murderer of President Parkins +of the up-town National, and, when the crash came, +secured me my position in the Berkley Trust.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A detective?” The elder woman asked it; +the girl’s eyes were again on Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No.” The man shook his head. “He jokingly +calls himself a problemist, and accepts only those +cases that he thinks will prove interesting, for the +solving of them is merely his recreation. He takes +no fees. The man with him is his secretary, Sydney +Thames, whose name is pronounced like that of the +river. He, too, is a remarkably handsome man, but +he is never noticed when with Thornley Colton, +except as his coal-black hair and eyes, and red +cheeks, form a striking contrast to Colton.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I had not even noticed him,” confessed the +elder woman, as she glanced for the first time at +<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>the slim young man of twenty-five or six, who stood +at Colton’s side, eyes apparently taking in every +detail of the big dining-room. Then she remembered +her duty as mentor. “You <em>must</em> not stare so rudely, +Rhoda!” she chided.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t think Mr. Colton minds the stare,” the +man said quietly. “He has been totally blind since +birth, though many people refuse to believe it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Blind!” They both breathed it, in their voices +the tender sympathy all women feel for the misfortunes +of others.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He is coming,” warned the elder woman unnecessarily.</p> + +<p class='c008'>They had seen the head-waiter apparently apologize +to Colton, and step aside. The secretary had +whispered a few words, and Thornley Colton, his +slim stick held lightly and idly in his fingers, started +down the aisle between the rows of tables, shoulders +swung back, chin up, followed by Sydney Thames. +The woman and the girl watched his approach with +parted lips, in their eyes mother fear for his safety +as he hurried toward them, stepping aside at exactly +the proper moment to avoid a hurrying waiter, +walking around the very much overdressed, stout +woman whose chair projected a foot over the unmarked +aisle line. As he neared their table, they +saw the thin lips frame a smile of friendly greeting.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How do you do, Mr. Norris?” His voice, rich, +of wonderful musical timbre, seemed to thrill the +girl with its kindliness and strength, as he stepped +around her chair to shake hands with her escort. +“Sydney saw you while we were waiting for our +table.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Will you meet Miss Richmond?” asked Norris, +when he had answered the greeting in kind. Colton +turned instantly to face the girl, his slim white +hand, with its long, tapering fingers, outstretched.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>“It is a concession we of the darkness ask of +every one,” he apologized.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Their hands met, the girl felt the warm grip, and +her sensitive wrist seemed to feel a touch, light as +the touch of wind-blown thistle-down, but it was +gone instantly, and she knew it was but the telepathic +thrill of the meeting palms. She murmured +a commonplace, and bit her lips in vexation, because +it was a commonplace. The man before her seemed +to call for more.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your singing is wonderful, Miss Richmond,” he +declared enthusiastically. “Sydney and I have +had orchestra seats three nights this week. You +know, to me music must give the combined pleasures +of painting, sculpture, architecture, and other +beautiful things the average person doesn’t even +appreciate.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Her eyes expressed their pity, but her lips said +only: “My mother, Mr. Colton.” They shook +hands across the table, Mrs. Richmond with a +heartiness that was not part of the artificial code +New York has fixed, he with a few words that +brought a flush of pleasure to her faded cheeks.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Why didn’t Mr. Thames stay?” asked Norris +curiously. “He hurried on as though he thought +we were plague victims.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He usually does,” smiled Colton. “He has a +very curious fear. I’ll tell you about it some +time.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Why don’t you drop into the bank and see me +some day? You haven’t been in my tomb-like +office for months. Miss Richmond and her mother +saw me at work for a few minutes this afternoon. +It compares very favourably with the dressing-rooms +given to opera-singers, they say.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I should say so!” laughed the girl. “If you +can compare Persian rugs and mahogany with our +<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>cracked walls, and box-propped dressing-tables, and +plugged gas-jets!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Men always do take the best,” conceded Colton +smilingly. Then he addressed Norris directly. +“How is Simpson attending to business nowadays?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He has been away for a week. He came in +this afternoon to amaze us with the news that he +had just been married. He didn’t have much to +say about his wife, however, except that he was +going to turn over a new leaf.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s news!” whistled Colton. “He never +struck me as the marrying kind.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nor any one else,” laughed Norris, with a +tender, significant glance at the girl across the table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll have to look him up and congratulate him. +Till we meet again, then.” And with a pleasant +nod of parting to each of them, a touch of a chair +leg with his slim stick, Colton hurried down the +aisle to the small table in the far corner, where +Sydney Thames was giving his order to the waiter. +The serving-man responded to a friendly nod from +Colton, closed his order tablet, and hurried away. +Thornley took a cigarette from his case, scratched +a match on the bronze box, and leaned comfortably +back in his chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Some time, Sydney, your terrible fear of beautiful +women is going to get me into a very embarrassing +position.” He said it half seriously, half +smilingly. “Instead of seventeen steps, it was but +sixteen and a short half. If it hadn’t been for +Norris’s habit of nervously tapping his glass with +his finger-tips, my outstretched hand would have +gone back of his neck.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I thought I had figured it exactly!” There +was earnest contrition in the tone; the sombre, +black eyes showed the pain of the mistake.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>“It is forgotten,” dismissed Colton. Then: +“But you should have stopped, Sydney. Miss +Richmond’s personality is as remarkable as her +singing, and her mother is so proud and happy she +forgets to be embarrassed at the difference between +Keokuk and the Regal. Norris is lucky, for she +loves him, and he―⁠―” The smiling lips needed +no finishing words.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But she is already commanding two hundred +dollars a week at the very beginning of her career, +and Norris cannot be earning more than five +thousand a year,” protested Thames.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You poor boy!” smiled Colton. “You’ll +never know women; that susceptible heart of yours, +which drives you away like a scared sheep whenever +a beautiful woman approaches, will never be good +for anything but pumping blood.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thorn, don’t I know my weakness!” The +tone was indescribably bitter. “I must keep away, +though I’m starving for the society of good women. +To meet one would be to fall in love, hopelessly, +helplessly. I’d forget that I was a thing of shame, +a brat picked up on the banks of the river that gave +me the only name I know.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton was instantly serious. “Starvation seems +a peculiar cure for hunger,” he mused. “But +we have argued that so many times―⁠―” Again +the thin, expressive lips finished the sentence.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Then came the waiter with a club sandwich for +Thames and Colton’s invariable after-theatre supper +that was always ready when he came, and which +he never needed to order; two slices of graham +bread covered with rich, red beef-blood gravy, and +a bottle of mineral water. Colton’s slim cane, hollow, +and light as a feather, the slightest touch of which +sent its warning to his supersensitive finger-tips, +rested between his knees as he ate.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>Sydney Thames nibbled his sandwich absentmindedly, +eyes roving around the dining-room, now +stopping at a gaudily-dressed dowager, now at an +overpainted lady who smiled her fixed smile at the +bull-necked man at her table, now at the circle-eyed +girl who stabbed the cherry from her empty +cocktail glass with a curved tine of her oyster fork; +but always coming back to the fresh, wholesomely +beautiful face of Rhoda Richmond. Then the +sombre eyes would light up; for a beautiful face, +to Sydney Thames, was more intoxicating than +wine, and, to his highly sensitive nature, more +dangerous.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton pushed his plate aside as the other’s eyes +once more started their round of the dining-room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The gods give gaudiness in recompense for the +eye-sparkle they have taken, and the wrinkles they +have given,” Thornley Colton murmured quietly. +“One must come to a New York restaurant to +realize the true pathos of beauty.” Colton’s mood +had been curiously serious since those few words +at Norris’s table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames did not answer, for no answer was +needed. His wandering eyes had rested on a table +to the left.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“One often wonders,” continued Colton, in that +same musing, low-pitched voice, “why a stout +woman, like that one two tables to our left, for +instance, will suffer the tortures of her hereafter for +the sake of drinking high balls in a tight, purple +gown.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney had turned his eyes to stare at Colton, +as he always did when the man who had picked +him up as a bundle of baby-clothes on the banks +of the Thames, twenty-five years before, made an +observation of this kind. Many such had he heard, +but never did they fail to startle him.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>“How, in Heaven’s name, did you know what +I was doing, or that she was dressed in purple?” +he demanded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You should keep both feet flat on the floor if +you want to keep your staring a secret,” laughed +Colton quietly. “You forget that crossed knees +make your suspended foot tell my cane each time +you turn your head ever so slightly. See that my +fingers are not on my stick when you covertly +watch the women you fear to meet.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the purple gown?” demanded Sydney, +repressing the inclination to uncross his knees, and +flushing at the amused smile the involuntary first +motion of the foot had brought to the lips of +Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“All stout women who breathe asthmatically +wear purple,” declared Colton emphatically. “It +is the only unfailing rule of femininity. And to one +who has practised the locating of sounds that come +to doubly sharp ears the breathing part was easy. +There is no one at the next table on the left, you’ll +observe. Now you can resume your overt watching +of Miss Richmond; see”—he laid both hands on +the white table-cloth before him—“I won’t look.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The head-waiter stopped at the table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Simpson would like to have you come to +his table, Mr. Colton. He wants you to meet his +wife.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“His wife?” put in Thames quickly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She is, sir.” It was said with a positiveness +there was no gainsaying.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where is Mr. Simpson?” asked Colton. “We +had not seen him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“In the east wing, sir, where the palms are.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We will go to him immediately.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll tell him, sir.” His beckoning finger brought +the waiter who had served them with the check.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>Sydney Thames spoke. “Some one of his cheap +actress friends has roped him at last,” he said +scornfully. “He’s a pretty specimen of man to be +first vice-president of the conservative Berkley +Trust Company.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll wager you’re wrong,” declared Colton +quietly, as he handed the waiter a two-dollar bill +from his fold. “If it were one of the women for +whom he has been buying wine suppers for the +past two years, she wouldn’t be ‘where the palms +are,’ nor would the waiter be so positive of the +marriage relation.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’m not going,” protested Thames quickly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Surely, Sydney, you are not afraid a married +woman will kidnap you?” smiled Colton, as he +took the stick between his fingers and prepared to +rise. “How many?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney, who had turned half around in his chair +to gaze toward the entrance to the east wing, faced +him. “I’ll go,” he said shortly; another hasty +glance, and he rose with Colton. “Thirty-seven +straight, eighteen left, nine right. We will stop at +the door of the east wing. I can’t see it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There are no pretty women to disturb the +distance judgment you have been so many years +acquiring?” queried Colton mildly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Without answering, Thames turned on his heel, +and made his way rapidly between the tables toward +the east wing. Colton laughed silently, picked up his +change, and hurried after, his perfectly trained +brain counting the steps automatically, his thoughts +busy elsewhere. He was thinking of Simpson, who +had gained such an unenviable reputation as a +spender along the gay White Way during the past +two years.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Simpson had always interested him, student of +human nature that he was, as the one man who +<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>had never lived up to the impression Colton’s +unerring instinct had told him was the right one +the first time they had met. The problemist had +expected things of Simpson, and Simpson had done +nothing but idle as much time as possible in the +position as first vice-president of one of the most +conservative banks in the city, and spend money +on women.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton stopped for an instant beside Thames in +the archway, apparently gazing idly at the crowd +of men and women at the palm-shaded tables.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Two left, nineteen straight, half in,” directed +Thames, stepping aside to follow.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The heavy-lidded, thickset man, with the faint +lines of blue vein traceries in his cheeks, rose to +meet them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This is a pleasure, Mr. Colton,” he exclaimed, +in heavy-voiced heartiness. “You are the one man +I wanted to see; though I hardly believed it would +be my luck to catch you this night of all nights. +You knew the pace I was going, and I want you to +meet the little girl I went back to the old town to +marry. We’ve been friends since we were tots. +Thank God, I waked up in time to know what a +good woman means! When next you see us it will +be in our own home. One moment, please”—his +voice sank to an almost reverent whisper—“my +wife is deaf and dumb, Mr. Colton.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames had heard; had seen, with curiously +mixed feelings, the little woman with the small, +boyish face around which the tendrils of brown hair +curled from under the close-fitting toque, and had +appraised the slim, quietly dressed figure, the half +smile as she stared inquiringly at them. The girl +seemed but a child, but he saw that her face was +heavily daubed with powder and rouge, as though +its application had neither been taught nor practised. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>Until those last explaining words he had stood back +with a half-pitying light in his eyes, for he knew +Simpson’s reputation with women. But at the +quietly spoken sentence he had undergone an instant +change of feeling, such as only highly-strung, hypersensitive +men like him are capable of, toward the +man who had gone away from his women of wine +to marry a simple country girl who could neither +speak nor hear.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Simpson’s fingers had been moving rapidly; he +bowed toward Thornley Colton. The girl smiled, +and put out her small hand, the movement throwing +back from her wrist the filmy lace of the long +sleeve. For a moment they clasped hands; then +the girl’s fingers worked again.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Simpson laughed. “She does not believe you are +blind, Mr. Colton; she says you have eyes like +every one else.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton smiled. “If you tell her that +I’ve got to wear these large-lensed, smoked glasses +to prevent the light giving me a headache you +will probably never convince her,” he observed, +as he refused the chair the waiter had drawn +up.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames acknowledged his introduction +with a bow and the usual meaningless words, but +his eyes were soft and tender as a woman’s as they +met those of the girl in the instant’s glance she gave +him before the lashes were lowered. A woman’s +face never failed to stir him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Won’t you sit down?” pleaded Simpson. “It +will probably be the last time you will ever find +me in one of these gilded palaces. A man who has +been my kind of a fool <em>can</em> appreciate his own +fireside, and Gertie, who was all aflutter to visit +one of the famous Broadway restaurants, recognized +in ten minutes the crass artificiality it took me years +<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>to discover.” He was holding her hand openly and +unashamed as he said it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton shook his head. “It is past my +time for going home, and you know my habits. A +glass of Célestin’s at one-fifteen, the beauties of the +Moonlight Sonata on my piano for fifteen minutes, +and then to bed. If I may visit you at your home, +Mrs. Simpson?” his outstretched hand met that +of the girl. “Ah, you read the lips? A wonderful +accomplishment to us who have never had eyes.” +His lips framed a smile of pleasure; he turned to +Thames. “The same, Sydney?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The secretary’s eyes travelled up the aisle. “The +man nine steps up is gesticulating quite freely.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Lots of room.” Colton’s slim stick touched a +chair-leg, he bowed, and hurried away, the hearty +good-night of Simpson following. Thornley Colton +never needed any direction for going back over the +same route, for his mind, trained to the figures of +steps, neither hesitated nor made mistakes in following +them backward. He stepped aside to avoid the +swinging arm of the loud-voiced man who was +punctuating his liquor-born blatancy with violent +gestures, and paused at the archway of the main +dining-room for Thames.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is Norris still at his table?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It is empty.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Um!” Colton’s high forehead wrinkled a +frown, his slim stick tapped his leg. “Time +enough to-morrow,” he announced finally, and +started through the maze of tables towards the +entrance.</p> + +<p class='c008'>They received their hats and overcoats and left +the big hotel to enter the long, black car that +awaited them at the north entrance at one o’clock +each morning. They were well on their way to the +big, old-fashioned brownstone house where Thornley +<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>Colton had been born, before the silence was broken. +Then Sydney Thames spoke:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There must be a lot of latent goodness in a man +who could take a woman like that to love, and +cherish, and protect,” he said slowly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You mean Miss Richmond?” The darkness +concealed the whimsical smile on Colton’s lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No!” The negative was short. “Norris will +marry Miss Richmond just because she is beautiful +and accomplished; because his man’s vanity will +be tickled to exhibit her before men as his possession. +I mean Simpson, who took a simple country +girl whom God had handicapped, just because he +loved her. That means something.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But, Sydney”—Colton’s thin fingers rested +lightly on the other’s sleeve; there was just the +faintest trace of laughter in the words—“don’t you +think she was a bit too heavily rouged?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He felt the highly-strung man jump under his +hand.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Good heavens, Thorn!” Sydney burst out. +“Sometimes I wonder if you <em>are</em> blind!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“God gives fingers to the sightless, Sydney,” +Colton’s voice was quietly serious. “In the darkness +the keyboard of my piano gives me the soul +secrets of dead men gone to dust. In the lights of +a Broadway restaurant the keyboard of silence +gives me the secrets of living hearts. And they +cannot lie.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What do you mean? What have I missed?” +Thames asked the questions eagerly, tensely, for +he knew the moods of this man who had been the +only father he had ever known; he understood that +something of grave portent had given its significance +to the man who could not see, while he with +five perfect senses, had seen nothing, suspected +nothing.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>Colton pulled his crystalless watch from his +pocket, and touched it with a finger-tip. “One-thirty; +we are fifteen minutes late.” He put his +hand on the door catch as the big machine slowed +up before his home. And it was not until they were +ascending the broad brownstone steps that he +answered the question.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You have missed the first act of what promises +to be a very remarkable crime, Sydney,” he said +quietly.</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>II.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Colton scowled when the red jack failed to turn +up, but the mouth corners smiled when the ace of +diamonds slid between the sensitive fingers to take +its place in the top row of Mr. Canfield’s famous +game. The deuce followed, the red jack immediately +after; then the problemist looked up toward +the doorway of the library.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Well, Shrimp?” he smiled.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“They’s the theatrical papers yuh wanted.” +The red-headed, freckle-faced boy with the slightly-twisted +nose came forward with an armful of big +magazines and newspapers, the front pages of which +were adorned with full-length portraits of stage +celebrities. Before he quite reached the table he +stopped short, eyes crackling their excitement. +“Snakes! You’re gettin’ it, Mr. Colton! They’s +the four of hearts and the five of spades. Don’t +stop now.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton laughed. “All right, Shrimp. Do you +want to do a little detective work for me?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do I?” The eyes danced with eagerness. +“Ain’t I been studyin’? Nineteen steps from the +kitchen t’ the first chair in the dinin’-room. Six―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I know,” assured Colton hastily. “But you +take those papers to your room and write down +<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>the names of all the vaudeville actors—men, you +know—who have quit the stage within the last two +months; where they have gone, and why, if +possible.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Snakes!” The boy’s face showed his disappointment. +“Nick Carter never had t’ do +that.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He never had to count steps for a blind man, +either,” smiled Thornley Colton. “You do that +and there’ll probably be some real detective work—shadowing, +disguises, and the rest of it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>There was no answer. The boy had taken a +firmer grip on the papers, and was already out of +the room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The four of hearts and the five of spades had +been placed when Sydney, face broad in a smile, +entered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What’s the matter with ‘The Fee’?” he +demanded. “He ran past me as though he were +on his way to a fire.” Thames always referred to +Shrimp as The Fee, because the red-headed, freckle-faced +boy had become part of the Colton household +after a particularly baffling case, at the conclusion +of which the joy of capturing the murderer had been +overshadowed by the blind man’s sorrow for the +broken-nosed boy who had jumped between him +and a vicious blackjack. And Shrimp had been +his fee for the case. As the boy’s mother was the +murdered one, and his father the murderer, there +had been no one to object.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Before Colton had a chance to voice his laughing +explanation, the tinkling telephone-bell on the desk +demanded attention. At the first words the thin +lips tautened to a straight line, the voice became +pistol-like in its crispness, the muscles under the +pale skin of the face became tense.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The problemist had a problem.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>“When? Last night. All right. Still that two-wire +burglar connection on the safe? Never mind +further details. We’ll be right down.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>As his hand dropped the receiver on the hook a +finger pressed the garage bell button that would +bring his machine instantly at any hour of the day +or night.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Get your hat and coat, Sydney,” he ordered +curtly. “We’re going to the Berkley Trust Company. +Somebody’s gotten away with half a million +in negotiable bonds!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Half a million?” gasped Thames.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So they said. Didn’t wait for details.” Colton +grabbed his private phone-book of often-needed +numbers, and ran his fingers down the backs of the +thin pages on which the names and numbers had +been heavily written with a hard pencil. As Sydney +hurried out he heard the curt voice give a number +over the phone. And it was fully five minutes +before Colton took his place in the car.</p> + +<p class='c008'>In the smooth-running machine, with the wooden-faced +Irish chauffeur at the wheel, Sydney Thames +voiced the question:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Last night, you said?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, the second act came sooner than I expected,” +broke in Thornley Colton. “I underrated +the man.” And the expression on the pale face +augured ill for some one.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The funereal atmosphere of the Berkley Trust +Company could be <em>felt</em> as they entered. In the +office of the third secretary, the white-haired +president of the institution stopped his nervous +pacing to mumble a greeting in tremulous accents. +First Vice-President Simpson’s grave face broke +into a smile of welcome. Norris raised his bowed +head from his hands, and came forward joyfully, +pleadingly. The red-faced man who had been +<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>standing over him kept a step away, but always +near enough to touch him with an outstretched +hand.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God, Mr. Colton! They think I’m guilty!” +There was agony unutterable in Norris’s voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ridiculous!” snapped Simpson, his heavy-lidded +eyes half closed. “Mr. Colton will soon put +this detective right.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The problemist nodded a grim acquiescence, and +took the outstretched hand of Norris. “I know +better,” he said kindly. The red-faced man gave +voice to a grunt, and Colton instantly swung around +to face him. “So you’ve cleaned it up already, +Jamison?” he asked mildly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nobody said he was guilty,” growled the red-faced +central-office man significantly. “I just been +questionin’ him, that’s all.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And accusing him with every question!” +snapped Colton. “Like the rest of your kind, +you haven’t the intelligence to suit your methods +to the crime. Every crime must be worked +according to the old Mulberry Street formula. +That didn’t change with the modern Centre Street +building.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But we know enough not to make any cracks +till we get all the information,” sneered Jamison. +“We don’t hand out that know-it-all stuff till we +know <em>something</em>!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“True,” smiled the problemist with his lips, but +there was no smile in his tone. Two hectic spots +glowed in his cheeks, the muscles worked under the +pale skin. “What do you think, President Montrose?” +The white-haired president halted his +pacing once more, and stroked his Vandyke.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The first stain on the unsullied escutcheon of the +Berkley Trust Company,” he groaned. “In all of +the half century―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>“I know all that!” broke in Colton impatiently. +“What happened? Why are the police here +instead of the protective-agency men?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I was excited,” moaned the president. “It was +the first thing that occurred to me. In all the half +century of―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I guess we were all excited,” interjected Simpson, +his lips twisted in a wry smile. “I know I +was up in the air. I came down here, happier than +I ever was before in my life, to arrange for a short +vacation to take a wedding trip. Now this comes +up. When I came to my senses I telephoned for +you, because I want the robbery solved as soon as +possible. The little girl has banked so much on +our little time.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Too bad,” murmured Colton. “Tell me the +story, Norris.” Before he could get an answer he +turned to Thames, who always stayed discreetly in +the background when Colton was on a case. “See +that no one goes near that safe, Sydney; I may +want to examine it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Kind of dropped that bluff of bein’ blind, ain’t +you?” sneered Jamison, who was one of the +hundreds of persons in New York who would not +believe that Thornley Colton was really sightless. +And the problemist did not deign to explain that +once he had been in a room and touched its objects +with his cane his trained brain held the correct +mental picture for ever.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The bonds were fifty in number, ten thousand +each, government fours, negotiable anywhere,” +began Norris, licking his dry lips to make the words +come easier. “They were the bulk of the Stillson +estate, on which I was working. We are settling it +up. As third secretary my work is with trusts and +estates. It was necessary to have everything +finished by to-night. I worked late yesterday, so +<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>late that the bonds and other papers could not go +into the time-locked vaults, and I had to be at +work on them this morning before the clock-release +time.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is it customary to keep valuable bonds in the +small safe in this office?” interrupted Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It is not unusual. The safe is practically as +strong as the big vaults, and only lacks the clocks. +This office is really part of the vault itself, the walls +are windowless, and of four-foot concrete reinforced +by interlocked steel rails. The sheet-steel door, the +only entrance to the room, opens into a small cage +that is occupied during the day by Thompson, head +of the trust and estate routine clerks, and at night +by one of our two watchmen. The watchmen never +leave it, because it often happens that valuable +papers and bonds are left out of the big vaults +so that we can work on them before nine o’clock, +the hour set on the vault’s clocks. To get to the +steel door of this office one would have to enter the +outer and inner steel cages, the steel-barred door +of the small ante-room, besides setting off burglar-alarms +on all, disturbing the watchman, and ringing +the bells in the burglar-alarm department of the +Bankers’ Protective Association, of which we are a +member. And there was no sign of a break, the safe +was opened with the combination that only Mr. +Montrose and Mr. Simpson and myself know.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The watchman could get to this door without +any trouble?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Both have been in the employ of the bank for +forty years. They are absolutely above suspicion. +Both are illiterate. Even though they could enter +the office, they could not open the safe, and even +if they did that they would not know enough to steal +all the notes I had made regarding the estate, or +the bonds that have so utterly vanished. They +<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>have been sent for, however, and should be here +any minute.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Were the notes you made stolen, too?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“All of them.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Any of the other employees of the bank know +the bonds were in this safe?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Several, probably.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“All have access to this room, at any time?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Only Thomas, the head of the T. and E. clerks.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Trustworthy?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He grew up with the bank.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You require other clerical assistance at times?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thomas takes the papers from this office, and +the clerks get them from him outside. All must +be returned to me before closing time. I carefully +checked over every one last night before any of them +went away.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Any one in here yesterday while you were at +work on the papers; any one who could have seen +the bonds?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>For a moment there was no answer; then it +came, almost in a whisper: “Miss Richmond and +her mother were in for a few moments―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And I was, too, by Jove!” The interruption +came from Simpson. “And I remember asking you +how you were getting on with the Stillson estate. +I just finished my part when I went away. I guess +I really held them up longer than I should.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Has Miss Richmond been sent for?” Colton +paid absolutely no heed to the first vice-president.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A grunting laugh from the detective. “She +sure has, bo. After I found out this guy’s stage +lady had been in here with a tailor’s suit-box after +closin’ time, my partner went right up to her hotel.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“By Heaven! You―⁠―” Norris rose to his +feet, face black with fury. Colton’s hand on his +shoulder forced him back into the chair. Sydney +<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>Thames, to whom all women were angels, clenched +his fists.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is that true?” There was a new tone to +Colton’s voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Norris seemed to recognize the menace. “She +isn’t guilty, I tell you! She can’t be. She’s—Listen, +man! She’s my wife!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your wife!” They all echoed it. The detective +with laughing triumph; President Montrose with +horror; Sydney Thames in dazed surprise; Simpson +with a half-suppressed, significant gasp.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We were married two days ago; but it was to +be a secret until the end of her season.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How long ago was she sent for?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The detective answered: “My side kick ought +to be back now. We was on the job there, all +right, all right.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Voices outside came to their ears—the harsh, +commanding voice of a man, the half-subdued +sobbing of a woman. The door was thrown open, +and Rhoda Richmond, opera singer, and wife of +Norris, was half pushed, half carried into the small +room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Good work, Jim!” grinned Jamison. “Did +she put up a howl at the hotel?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hotel?” growled the other scornfully. “No +hotel for hers. I had a lot of luck or I’d never’ve +got her. She was boardin’ a boat fer South America +that sails in an hour.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s a lie!” Norris screamed the words as he +leaped toward the man whose rough hand was +clenched around the slim arm of the girl. Sydney +Thames, obeying Colton’s silent signal, forced him +back, his own hands trembling. The problemist +without a word untwisted the central-office man’s +fingers, and gently seated the girl in a chair at the +long table.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>“Who the―⁠―” The blustering detective was cut +off suddenly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We’ve had enough of your strong-arm methods!” +Colton’s voice was hard as flint. “We’ll get some +facts now.” The hardness vanished; in its place +came gentle sympathy. “When did you get the +message, Miss Richmond?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The voice seemed to have the reassuring effect of +a pat on the head of a hurt child. With an effort +the girl controlled her sobs, and answered as though +it had been the most natural question in the world: +“An hour ago—over the telephone—I thought I +recognized How—Mr. Norris’s voice. He wanted me +to meet him at the Buenos Aires dock. He had to +go to South America secretly, he said, and I must +tell no one. I hurried to the dock without even +telling mother. I waited for an hour, but he did not +come; then I decided to go aboard and see if he +had missed me and gone to his state room. This +man—said Howard had—robbed—I thought―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She broke down again.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I guess that’s bad!” grinned Jamison gloatingly. +“In another hour there’d of been a clean get-away.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The whereabouts of the bonds doesn’t seem to +worry you!” snapped Colton sarcastically.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The stuff ain’t never far away from the guy +that took it,” growled Jamison. “When you get +through your know-it-all talk we’ll sweat that out, +all right.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Did you have a tailor’s suit-box with you +yesterday?” asked Colton abruptly of the girl.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. I called to see if my new walking-suit +was finished. It was all ready to be sent to my home, +but when I saw the poor, tired little boy who would +have to carry it I took it myself. The tailor is just +around the corner, on the avenue; that is why +mother and I dropped in here.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>“Of course,” nodded Colton, his teeth snapping +together as he seemed to sense the derisive grins on +the faces of the detectives. “Did you recognize the +bonds among the papers on which Mr. Norris was +working?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, he showed them to me, and we laughingly +spoke of what we could do with half a million dollars. +Then, when he took mother out to show her around +the bank—I was too tired—I picked one up and +read it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Rhoda!” cried Norris. He could realize the +present significance of yesterday’s innocent words.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’ll be about all from you!” scowled +Jamison. “If this guy wants to third-degree her, +and cinch it for us, let him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“An’ if he don’t cinch it this will.” The other +detective pulled a paper from his pocket. “Here’s +the <i>Buenos Aires’s</i> passenger list, and here’s Mr. and +Mrs. Frank Morris, who booked yesterday, added +in pencil. Morris for Norris! Slick enough to be +almost good.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Every one in the room but Colton seemed to be +shocked into a state of stupefied rigidity.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Now―⁠―” Jamison said that word in the +tone one uses to introduce some especially clever +thing, and accompanied it with a sarcastic glance +toward the blind man, who tapped his trouser leg +with his cane in thoughtful silence. “If <em>you</em> ain’t +got no objection we’ll take these two to headquarters, +and get a line on where they got the stuff +cached.” He paused suggestively, mockingly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The permission came, with a deprecatory wave +of the cane, and a smile that was menacing in its +very suaveness. “Go as far as you like, Jamison. +Don’t be too gentle with them.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God, Mr. Colton! You don’t think―⁠―” +The words choked in Norris’s throat.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>“I think you had better go.” The problemist’s +tone was peculiarly quiet. “Jamison and his +partner have the reputation of being the two +wealthiest detectives in the department. No one +knows how they got it, but they’ve enough to give +you and your wife a twenty-thousand-dollar nest +egg each on a false-arrest suit. Isn’t that worth +a few hours’ discomfort? I can prove your innocence +when they have gone. They worry me here.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Simpson whistled, and turned it into a jerky +laugh. “Gad, that was clever!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, is that so!” The detectives chorused it, +in their voices sarcasm—and just a tinge of something +else, too. Colton knew the one thing that +would make them stop and think.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Are you going?” snapped Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We’ll see them two watchmen first,” growled +Jamison.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Good!” The problemist laughed at the sudden +change. “I think you’ll have quite a crowd to +take down to head-quarters if you hang around long +enough. Before I started I telephoned to the +burglar-alarm telegraph department of the protective +agency to get hold of the men who answered +the alarm that rang in from this office early this +morning.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What burglar-alarm?” snarled Jamison. He +whirled on the white-haired president. “Why +didn’t you tell us there was an alarm rung in?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Really”—the Vandyke received several severe +yanks—“I didn’t know it. We do not receive the +clock reports and emergency alarm sheets until +about noon. Er—Mr. Colton, might I ask where +you got this information?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I telephoned for it,” answered Colton curtly. +“If these policemen hadn’t been so anxious to +make arrests, and the robbery hadn’t been too +<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>obvious for their thick heads, they might have +investigated. But they are just head-quarters men; +the obvious arrest is the one they always make. +Feet make good central-office men, not heads. Ah, +here are the men, all together.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>They came in slowly, two old men first; one +with straggly, white whiskers that concealed the +weak chin and grew up around the faded, watery +eyes; the other’s parchment-like face a network of +wrinkles. Honesty shone from every part of them; +the weak, helpless honesty of their kind.</p> + +<p class='c008'>As Colton took each man’s hand with a murmured +greeting he felt it tremble in his. The aged watchmen +knew that something had happened; something +that concerned them and the bank they had +guarded so long. The two men from the burglar-alarm +company nodded to the two detectives, and +their eyes narrowed as they shook the hand of the +problemist. Both knew him, and both knew this +had been no common summons. Thornley Colton +never bothered with common things. Sydney +Thames had pulled two chairs up to the table, and +the old men sat down. Colton lighted a cigarette +thoughtfully, then he spoke:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This morning, gentlemen, that small safe was +robbed of five hundred thousand dollars’ worth of +government bonds.” His slim cane, apparently +held idly between his fingers, touching the chair of +the man nearest him, felt the watchman’s involuntary +jump. The others saw the old jaws drop, saw the +watchmen glance helplessly at each other, their +trembling fingers picking at worn trouser-knees. +Colton heard the gasp of the two protective-agency +men.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I knowed it!” quavered the white-whiskered +watchman. “I knowed something’d happen when +Mary took sick.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>“Who’s Mary?” queried Colton interestedly. +The others crowded forward.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She’s Mary, my wife. She’s been scrubbin’ the +bank floors fer thirty years, an’ nobody ever said +a word against her.” He glanced at them all with +pathetic belligerence. “She even picked up the +pins she found on the floor, and put ’em in a box +on the cashier’s desk.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s true,” laughed Simpson. “It’s the joke +of the bank.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And she was taken sick last night?” Thornley +asked gently.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A week ago.” The other watchman answered, +while the first brushed his dry lips with his work-gnarled +hand. “Mrs. Bowden, she’s got the consumption, +and lives across the hall from us and―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where do you live?” interrupted Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Sixteen hundred Third Avenue. I been boardin’ +with him an’ his wife fer thirty years. Mrs. Bowden’s +been doin’ Mary’s work. We didn’t say nothin’ +about Mary bein’ sick, ’cause she might get laid off. +An’ Mrs. Bowden’s awful poor.” His voice was a +childish, quavering treble.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Last night, after Mrs. Bowden had gained your +confidence, you allowed her to scrub Mr. Norris’s +office?” encouraged Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Norris started. “I’d forgotten that!” he +ejaculated. A motion from Colton commanded +silence.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” trembled Mary’s husband. “John +opened the door, an’ started to punch his clocks, +an’ I stayed in the ante-room, like I allus do, to +watch Mrs. Bowden. Then somehow the door got +closed. An’ Mrs. Bowden got scared there in the +dark. She screamed an’ cried till it was real sad. +But John had the key, an’ he had to punch his +clocks on the minute, er Mr. Montrose’d be mad +<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>when he got the records next day. An’ I couldn’t +leave my place in the ante-room. So I encouraged +her, sayin’ that John’ld be back in half an hour an’ +let her out. She quieted after a while, an’ didn’t +scream so loud, but I could hear her stumblin’ +around. Then John had to run to the front door +to see who was knockin’, an’ he let these gentlemen +in. The burglar-alarm on the safe had rung, they +said, an’―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Never mind that part,” halted Colton. “One +of these men will tell me that part.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We was called at seven-eighteen,” began the +taller of the two Bankers’ Protective Agency men, +“by the safe bell. The safe is connected with one +wire, and under the carpet, running all around the +safe, is a thin steel plate connected with the other. +A man standing near enough to touch the safe forms +a connection that rings our gong. In the day-time, +of course, we pull the switch. We got here, and +found the door locked, an’ we could hear moaning. +This guy”—he indicated the one with the straggly +beard—“unlocked the door, and behind it was a +woman, her skirt pinned up around her, laying on +the floor, frightened to death. When she seen us +she jumped to her feet with a little screech, and +muttered something about thanking God.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You were satisfied that she was frightened?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Sure! But we didn’t let it go at that. We +snapped on every light, and examined the room. +Nothing had been touched. We frisked the woman, +gentle, of course, but enough to know that she +hadn’t a thing on her. We finally got it out of her +that she’d fell against the safe trying to find the +door in the dark. She didn’t know enough to snap +on a light.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She couldn’t have had fifty ten-thousand-dollar +bonds on her person?”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>Both men laughed. “Gee, Mr. Colton,” laughed +the short one. “She was so frail you could almost +see through her. She couldn’t hardly have hid a +cigarette paper without making a hump.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What happened then?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She picked up the pail she had—it was full of +dirty scrub water, and the yellow bar of soap was +bobbing around in it—and John, here, took her +into the cashier’s cage. We hung around, talking, +an’ watching her scrub and weep into the pail until +it was time fer her to go home. She was so all in +I put her on a car.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Um!” Colton puffed his cigarette in silence; +then he turned to Jamison and his partner. “Looks +mighty suspicious, doesn’t it, Jamison? I’d advise +you to arrest these four men and get the woman. +Five hundred thousand is likely to make any honest +man a crook.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Some kidder, ain’t you?” sneered Jamison. +“I know Pete, there, an’ if he says it was all right, +it was. We got the guilty parties first off, an’ we’ll +get the stuff, too!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The smile went from Colton’s lips instantly. +“You arrest them, and we’ll start false-arrest +proceedings in an hour!” he warned. “You leave +Norris and Miss Richmond here! Any one but a +fool detective would know they weren’t guilty.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>As he said the last word he jumped toward the +safe, ran his highly sensitive fingers over the steel +surface, knelt down, brushed the heavy carpet +lightly with his finger tips. The two hectic spots +on his cheeks glowed redder; the nostrils quivered +like those of a hound on the scent, even the eyes, +behind the great, round, smoked glass lenses seemed +to shine. Silently they watched him. He lowered +his face almost to the floor, the cane was laid down, +and his hand gave the carpet a resounding slap. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>They crowded closer. One hand went to his hip-pocket, +a handkerchief brushed the hard-wood floor +under the safe, between the edge of the rug and +the wall. He rose, touched the burning end of +his cigarette ever so lightly to the linen handkerchief +that was now covered with a fine yellow +powder.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“See it! See it!” he snapped. “You couldn’t +before because it was the same colour as the hard-wood +floor.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s wood-polish powder, used for cleaning the +varnished wood,” sneered Jamison, stepping forward. +“We don’t want―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Smell it, then!” The blind man thrust the +handkerchief under the central-office man’s nose. +“Do you recognize it now? It’s sulphur. Ordinary +powdered sulphur. The thing that would tell any +man how the bonds were taken out of the office. +Go to a drug store and find out what sulphur is +used for.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He thrust the handkerchief into his coat-pocket, +brushed off the knees of his trousers, and picked +up his stick.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Come, Sydney,” he said quietly. “We’ve +finished.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Before the astonished men could make move or +protest he hurried from the office, automatically +counting the steps. He jumped into the waiting +machine, Sydney Thames followed, and as Simpson +and Jamison ran to the door, he snapped: “Home, +John!” to the Irish chauffeur, and the machine +sped away.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Around the first corner he leaned forward.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Sixteen hundred Third Avenue—quick!” he +ordered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You don’t think those two old watchmen +guilty?” asked Thames, in surprise.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>“No!” The tone was almost brusque. “Merely +an unimportant detail I want to clear up.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You certainly left that crowd in the office at +sixes and sevens.” Thames laughed at the recollection.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I intended to. That’s why I went into all those +details. I wanted to leave every one up in the air, +especially the two detectives. They’ll begin to +think now. And they won’t let any one get away +before we have made this call. I want to think, +now.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames knew the moods of the blind +man; knew he could expect no explanations, or +even replies, until Colton was ready to give +them; so they sped in silence to the upper East +Side.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Soon they were on upper Third Avenue. Overhead +the clanking “L” trains pounded their din +into the two men’s ears. The streets were crowded +with their heterogeneous mass of men, women, and +children. The rusty fire-escapes staggered drunkenly +across the dirty, red tenement-fronts.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The look of tense concentration left Colton’s face. +“A far cry from the luxurious, staidly conservative +Berkley Trust, eh, Sydney?” He smiled, leaning +back in the cushions, puffing his cigarette as though +untroubled by a serious thought; his eyes, behind +the smoked library glasses, seemingly fixed on the +narrow strip of blue sky overhead.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The car came to a stop.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is this it, John?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Th’ saloon on th’ corner is fifteen-ninety-four, +sorr.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Lead the way, Sydney.” Again the twin red +spots glowed in Colton’s white cheeks, he jumped +to the sidewalk, his slim stick tapping his trouser-leg +eagerly.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>Thames stepped along beside him, close enough +for his coat-sleeve to touch that of Thornley Colton. +And with that slight touch to guide him the problemist +followed; for Thornley Colton was a trifle +sensitive over his blindness, and nothing made him +angrier than an attempt to lead him. Sydney +found the entrance, between a second-hand-clothing +store and a pawnbroker’s shop. As he stopped to +make sure of the weather-dimmed, painted number +the clothing-store proprietor popped out, rubbing +his dirty palms together, and coughing apologetically.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“On which floor does Mrs. Bowden live?” +asked Colton sharply.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Der fourt’, front. You maybe like some +clo’es?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is her husband watchman at the Berkley Trust +Company?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He’s dead. You means Mrs. Schneider, across +the hall. Her man watches. Dere boarder also. +You like a elegant skirt for der poor vimens. Such +a―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames opened the door, and they left the +clothing man in the middle of his sentence. In +the dark hall Sydney made his way cautiously. +Colton, cane lightly touching the heels of the man +ahead, followed unhesitatingly. The journey up +the rickety steps was torture to Colton. To his +doubly acute ears and sense of smell the odours, the +squalling of half-starved babies were terrible, but +his brain automatically counted the steps so that +he would have not the slightest difficulty in finding +his way back to the automobile.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Schneider first,” whispered Colton, as Thames +stopped in the fourth-floor hall.</p> + +<p class='c008'>In the dim light Thames saw that they were +standing between two doors.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>“I don’t know which it is, but I’ll take a chance.” +He knocked on the one at his left.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The one behind immediately popped open.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mrs. Bowden’s gone away,” shrilly proclaimed +a tottery old woman, bobbing her head.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Could you give us her address?” asked Colton, +doffing his hat and bowing politely.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Laws!” The woman’s fluttering hand set her +spectacles farther askew, in a hurried effort to +straighten them. “She’s gone to spend the day +with her sister in Brooklyn. Them boys of mine +pestered her till she’s near sick. And she bein’ so +delicat’ an’ out late last night washin’ dishes at +the church sociable.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Are you Mrs. Schneider?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The darkness hid the smile the reference to the +“boys” had caused.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’m her. Be you the Associated Charities? +Mis’ Bowden said she’d asked fer help. She came +here two weeks ago, after losin’ her job in the +department store on account of her weak lungs. +She had to take in odd day’s work. Asthma, <em>she</em> +calls it, but I ain’t fooled on consumption. Two +of my―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And you helped her by pretending you were ill?” +interrupted Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I was sick fer two days.” The woman hastened +to set him right. “But she was so powerful glad +to earn a few cents fer her asthma snuff, not that +it is asthma. My sister’s brother―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Of course she left the key with you until her +return?” Colton left the sister’s brother in mid-air.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes; but―⁠―” There was just a shade of +suspicion in the voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“As agents of the Associated Charities we must +make an examination of the room, to prove that +she is really in need of financial help,” assured +<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>Colton gravely. “We can wait until she returns, +of course, but this is the last application day for +this month.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Laws! I’ll get it right away.” She darted +back into the room with surprising agility, and +returned a moment later with an iron key tied to +a broken-tined fork.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There’s no need of bothering you, Mrs. +Schneider,” declared Colton earnestly, as Thames +took the key.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Laws! Soon’s I get these pataters on I’ll be +right with you. My boys had to go down to their +bank―⁠―” The rest of the sentence was lost, for +as she turned to the stove Colton had jerked Thames +from the door.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Quick!” he whispered. In an instant the +key was in the lock, and the door was open. Colton +pushed his way in, his cane touching the scarred, +tumbled bed and the one broken chair. “Where’s +the trunk?” he queried, cane feeling around.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No sign of one, nor a case.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Damn!” snapped Colton. “The bureau +drawers! See what your eyes find.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames had the top drawer open almost before +he had finished. He whistled in amazement. +“Nothing but an empty pill-box, with no druggist’s +label, three quills with the feathers cut off, and a +tuft of cotton. What the―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Those are what I want! Put them in your +pocket!” The tenseness went out of his voice; it +became politely ingratiating, for his keen ears had +heard the woman coming. “There is no doubt that +Mrs. Bowden is in need of our assistance, Mrs. +Schneider,” he said smoothly. “Er—is that some +of her asthma snuff in the top bureau-drawer?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She ran past him, and bobbed her head over the +open drawer. “Yes, sir; there is a little sprinkled +<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>over the bottom. You got mighty powerful eyes, +mister.” She nodded vigorously at the blind man. +He had not been within five feet of the bureau. +“She’s dead set on it bein’ asthma, but my sister’s +brother was―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you know anything against Mrs. Bowden’s +character?” Again the sister’s brother was left +dangling.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Laws, no. She’s that frightened she’s afraid of +her own shadow. I’m the on’y one in the house she +took to, an’ even me she kept at a distance.” +Another vigorous nod. “An’ so modest! Laws, +she wouldn’t ha’ come into the halls half dressed, +like some of the other women does. An’ clean! +Laws! She lugged all her clo’es over to her sister’s +in Brooklyn to-day, to be washed in their Thirtieth +Century Washer; not that I―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ah, thank you, but we have four other calls +to make.” And, bowing gravely, Colton backed +from the room, and hurried toward the head of the +stairs, followed by Thames and the shrill-voiced +encomiums of the woman.</p> + +<p class='c008'>They took their places in the car silently, and it +was not until they had left the noise of the avenue +for the quiet of the side-streets that Colton spoke.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What do you think of it, Sydney?” asked the +problemist gravely.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’m completely at sea,” confessed Thames, with +a shake of his head. “It looked awfully bad for +Norris when we arrived at the bank. Then that +South American boat business. How did you know +she had received a message?” he asked suddenly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Didn’t. But I knew Miss Richmond, or rather +Mrs. Norris. Common sense would have told any +one that could be the only reason for her presence +at the dock. Jamison and his kind don’t use +common sense. They use the old policeman’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>formula; arrest the logical suspect and then +convict him. With persons like Norris and his +wife, each half doubting, half suspecting, either +would have confessed to save the other. It was an +ideal arrest, from the police view-point.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then you seemed to involve the two watchmen +and the two men from the protective agency. +Jamison will have a whole waggon-load.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He’ll take no one,” answered Colton. “I know +him. He’ll spend the rest of the day trying to find +out what I was talking about. Then he’ll telephone +to head-quarters, and they’ll send men to find out +who sent the message to Miss Richmond, and to +locate Mrs. Bowden.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There’s the woman, Thorn!” Thames spoke +nervously, excitedly. “She took a dress-suit case, +presumably full of clothes, to her ‘sister’ in Brooklyn. +The bonds―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You forget that the agency men saw her come +out of the room empty-handed; they even searched +her, and one put her on the trolley.” Colton smiled +curiously. “This was wholly a man’s job, Sydney. +The work of the rarest kind of criminal; a detailist. +This crime, while perfectly simple, is, I think, unique +in its attention to details. That’s why it interests me.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Simple!” ejaculated Thames. “Simple? You +speak as though you knew the guilty man.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I do. Perfectly. I knew last night.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Last night? The―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The robbery was committed early to-day. +Exactly.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Why—why―⁠―” Helpless amazement was in +Sydney Thames’s voice. “Why don’t you arrest +him? Why all this―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Simply because I would be laughed at. I +haven’t the proof—yet. The usual criminal stumbles +on his opportunity, and seizes it in a haphazard +<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>fashion. The rare criminal, the detailist, attends +to every detail; works his problem out with the +shrewdness and forethought of a captain of finance, +plans a coup months ahead. Then he creates the +opportunity. You must understand, Sydney, that +half a million is worth a few months’ work.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But suspicion points only to Miss Richmond, +Norris, and this Mrs. Bowden.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Suspicion points to every one,” corrected the +problemist. “Doesn’t it seem suspicious that +President Montrose should call in the police when +he would naturally take all steps in his power to +avoid publicity? Doesn’t the very eagerness of +the central-office men to arrest Norris and his wife +seem queer? Isn’t there a bit of suspicion in +Simpson’s confession that he delayed the Stillson +estate until Norris was compelled to work after +hours on them? Doesn’t Miss Richmond’s story +that she was carrying her suit home to save work +for a delivery boy seem highly improbable and +unwomanlike? How about Norris telling his wife +of the bonds? An unbusinesslike proceeding in +the case of half a million’s worth of negotiable +bonds, truly. Didn’t the two men who answered +the early-morning alarm seem a bit too sure that +nothing was wrong? Weren’t the two watchmen +in the conspiracy to pretend that Mrs. Schneider +was ill, so that a woman whom they had known +but two weeks could gain access to the bank? +Doesn’t the finding of an unlabelled pill-box, three +featherless quills, and surgeon’s cotton in the otherwise +empty room of a woman dying with tuberculosis +strike you as strange? As a further detail in +this crime of details, doesn’t my confession that I +knew the criminal before the crime was committed +seem a trifle like guilty knowledge?” He smiled +broadly.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>“Great Scott, Thorn!” Sydney Thames’s voice +trailed off in a whistle of pure bewilderment. +“You’ve involved every one.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, no.” Colton snapped his cigarette into the +street. “Not every one. An unfortunate vaudeville +actor will appear on the scene as soon as I get the +list on which I left Shrimp busily at work.”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>III.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>In the absolute darkness of the shade-drawn library +Thornley Colton softly whistled a syncopated version +of Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song” as his deft fingers +filled an empty goose-quill with a fine white powder +from an improvised paper funnel. He plugged the +open end with a small wad of cotton; then his +wonderfully sharp ears caught the rustle of the +double portières.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, Sydney,” he called, “have you heard anything +from the bank this morning?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames entered the darkness unhesitatingly, for +his constant practice of judging distance and +figuring steps for Colton had made him almost as +much at home in the darkness as the blind man +himself.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No,” he answered shortly. Then, with the +frank criticism of long friendship: “It’s a crime, +Thorn, for you to be idle while that girl is being +dogged, and harassed, and―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I thought she sang remarkably well last night +for a person under such a strain,” interrupted Colton +musingly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It was wonderful, wonderful!” Sydney Thames +spoke with the breathless enthusiasm a beautiful +girl always aroused in his woman-hungry heart.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Here, here!” protested the problemist laughingly. +“Remember that she is another man’s wife!”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>“Great heavens, Thorn! How can you laugh?” +cried Thames resentfully. “Think of those two +dogs of detectives, questioning, bulldozing, shadowing! +Why, they didn’t let Miss Richmond get +away from the bank until late in the afternoon, then +Jamison insisted on going with her. His partner +hung around the bank till it closed―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Trying to discover the use of powdered sulphur,” +smiled Colton. “I thought he would. Any one +but a central-office man would have gone to a +drug store, as I suggested.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Two other head-quarters men hauled that frail +old Mrs. Schneider and the two watchmen to police +head-quarters, and put them through the third +degree.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And a half-dozen more were on the trail of +Mrs. Bowden, while we were enjoying the opera +and an alleged cabaret show afterward, for which +this dark room is the penalty. Too much light +yesterday gave me a frightful headache.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The sudden ringing of the telephone in the +darkness made Thames jump, and Colton’s cane, +which was never away from him, felt the movement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Answer it, Sydney,” he requested.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The secretary’s hands had not the sureness of his +feet, and he had to fumble a moment. When he +had given the customary salutation and had listened +a moment he gasped:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s Simpson, Thorn. His wife is missing! +He wants you.” He extended the phone in the +darkness, but Thornley Colton made no move to +take it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Tell him I’ll be down to the bank in an hour +or so. I’ll see him then.” Colton spoke idly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney repeated the message. Followed a silence. +“He’s frantic, Thorn!” Thames’s voice shook with +excitement. “When he got home last night she +<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>was gone. The doorman at his apartment house +said that she had gone out in the morning, for a +short walk, he supposed. Simpson was so excited +about the robbery he did not telephone her during +the day, as he had promised. He spent half the +night searching, and tried a dozen times to get you. +She is deaf and dumb, Thorn. Think of it! Deaf +and dumb, and lost!” It only needed a woman +in trouble to shatter Sydney Thames’s nerves.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Tell him that I’m trying to figure out that +robbery. Tell him also that I never let one case +interfere with another. I’m not a detective. There’s +nothing interesting about a missing woman. +Hundreds of ’em every day. I find my pleasure in +interesting problems, not in police work.” Colton’s +voice was sharp, curt, utterly devoid of sympathy.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney knew that tone, as he knew the man who +used it. He repeated part of the message, added +gentle-voiced apologies, and hung up the receiver +with a sigh.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That was heartless, Thorn! Think of that +woman, deaf and dumb, lost in this―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Sometimes, Sydney, that susceptible heart of +yours becomes wearisome.” Colton spoke a bit +sharply. “A moment ago you were protesting +because I was here instead of running around after +the man who stole the half-million in bonds from +the Berkley Trust Company.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But Mrs. Norris is not helpless―⁠―” And for +fifteen minutes he argued, while Colton smiled +imperturbably in the darkness, and filled two other +quills with the white powder, and plugged the ends +with tufts of cotton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Suddenly Thames stopped, for Colton had picked +up the telephone and was giving a number.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hello, Shrimp!” he called, when the connection +had been made. “Everything all right? Fine +<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>business. Three hours, eh? Good! Be on time, +and obey orders. Good-bye!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where’s The Fee?” demanded Sydney. “I +haven’t seen him since yesterday.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Emulating the example of his worthy hero, +Nick Carter. Shrimp is a real detective now.” +Colton returned the crystalless watch to his pocket, +picked up the three quills, and arose. “Come on, +Sydney. We’ll walk over to the bank.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Walk?” ejaculated Thames, for he knew the +blind man’s aversion to walking when he could ride. +“Where’s the machine?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“John and the machine are helping Shrimp in +his detective work,” explained Colton. And in the +twenty minutes’ walk to the Berkley Trust Company +he absolutely refused to answer questions, but +kept up a continuous conversation on trivial topics, +that was maddening to the nervous secretary.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The effect of the previous day’s badgering, questioning, +and threats of the central-office men could +be seen as one entered the bank. The aged cashier’s +hands trembled as he tried to count a sheaf of new +bills. Book-keepers in the rear wrote figures and +erased them. Thompson, head of the trust and +estate clerks, in his little ante-room cage, was in a +pitiable state of nerves. The typewriter’s chair by +President Montrose’s desk was vacant, because the +lady stenographer was at home under the care of a +doctor. The fifty years of staid, conservative calm +that had characterized the Berkley Trust Company +during its long and useful life had been hit by a +five-hundred-thousand-dollar storm.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The group in the vaultlike office of Second +Secretary Norris was little better. President +Montrose could hardly control his trembling hand +to stroke his Vandyke; Norris’s eyes showed the +sleeplessness of the night before; Miss Richmond +<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>was calm with the calmness that means coming +nervous collapse; her mother was crying softly; +Simpson seemed positively haggard, and Sydney +Thames murmured words of sympathy for the man +who had two troubles. Jamison and the other +central-office man could not make their sneers +wholly sceptical. The protective-agency men were +plainly puzzled.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I see you are all on hand.” There was no smile +in Colton’s voice now, or on his lips; he was deadly +calm, coldly earnest. “You didn’t think it necessary +to send for the two watchmen?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We got men watchin’ them,” put in the surly +Jamison.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thanks!” came curtly from Colton. “Sit +down at this table, all of you. I want to tell you +a story.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We didn’t come to hear―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Simpson interrupted the detective: “For God’s +sake, make it short, Mr. Colton! My wife―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll look into that later.” Colton’s cane assured +him that the chairs were around the long table, +and his finger-tips felt the face of his watch in his +pocket.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Will you?” Simpson’s voice was almost +sarcastically eager, his heavy-lidded eyes narrowed. +Thames could not blame the man’s natural resentment +for Colton’s offhandedness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silently they took seats. Colton sat facing the +closed door; across the table was Simpson and +Norris. Miss Richmond and her mother were at +the end. The four detectives were on either side +of the problemist.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This is a story of a criminal who was born a +criminal; who couldn’t be honest if he tried,” +began Colton, in his quietly expressive voice. One +hand lay idly on the table before him, the other on +<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>his knees, fingers holding the slim, hollow cane. +“He wasn’t just born crooked. He started petty +thieving before he was out of short trousers. He +was the rare criminal that works years as an honest +man to pave the way for criminality. He had brains. +He could have been a wonderful success as an +honest man. But he couldn’t be straight. The +criminal instinct was there. He was waiting for +the proper time. But the coarser side of his nature +refused to be held in leash. He needed money. +And with the inherent craft of his kind he began +to plan the robbery of the Berkley Trust Company. +It wasn’t so hard, because, being an old, conservative +institution, in which men had grown gray, the +personal side entered as it cannot in the modern, +up-to-date institutions where men come and go. +Instead of elaborate safeguards the simple protection +of proven honesty entered largely into the +protection of the bank’s valuables. And where there +is simple honesty there is always vulnerability.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This criminal had found the vulnerable spot +years before the robbery was actually planned; +when the time came for its consummation luck +came to his aid, as it often does.” He paused. +On the outside door came a knock, so faint that +only his wonderfully sharp ears heard it. “There +was no possibility of suspicion attaching itself to +him, for he had planned an elaborate programme +to foist suspicion on others. And this robbery was +but one of a series, for the method his shrewd brain +had devised was capable of endless combinations. +In a few years the Berkley Trust losses would have +mounted to millions!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>His fist crashed down on the heavy table. The +door opened. Between the sober-faced Shrimp and +the expressionless Irish chauffeur was a sunken-eyed, +tottering creature, unshaven―⁠―</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>“<em>There’s your wife, Simpson!</em>” In the silence +Colton’s voice came like the crack of a pistol.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God, Thorn, it’s a <em>man</em>!” In Sydney +Thames’s tone was agony that the sensitive blind +man whom he loved could have made such a +mistake.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, a man! <em>Sit still, Simpson!</em>” With a +movement as quick as light itself Colton’s fingers +had dropped the slim cane that had given its warning, +and held a blue-steel automatic. “Or rather +what was once a man.” His tone rang with deadly +menace. “Charlie de Roque, vaudeville actor, the +youngest and best female impersonator on the stage; +Mrs. Bowden, the consumptive who played so well +on the sympathies of the three simple-minded souls +at sixteen-hundred Third Avenue; Mrs. Simpson, +the deaf-and-dumb little girl who was going to +make Simpson lead a better life.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You lie!” The shambling shadow of a man +screamed it as he tried to jerk away from the +chauffeur. “They told me they were going to take +me to a sanatorium. I don’t know what you’re +talking about. They’ve kept me―⁠―” His whole +body racked with sobs.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Would you tell the truth for these?” The +automatic did not waver a fraction of an inch as +Colton’s unoccupied hand threw down on the table +three cotton-plugged quills.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Merciful God! <em>Yes!</em>” With insane strength +he broke away from the big Irishman and darted +to the table. His twitching fingers snatched a quill, +pulled the cotton from the end, threw his head +back―⁠―</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Enough of these damn’ theatrics!” Simpson +snarled it viciously, but he did not move. “By +Heaven, Colton, you can’t railroad me to save +Norris and his wife with the fool ravings of a cocaine +<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>snuffler!” His face was purple, the veins in his +forehead seemed ready to burst. “Mrs. Bowden!” +He scoffed. “How did she get the bonds? Where +are they? Find ’em!” he laughed triumphantly +at Colton across the table, and the two central-office +men who now stood over him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Here yuh are, Mr. Colton.” It was Shrimp, +staggering under the weight of a big bucket of +dirty water. He set it down beside the problemist’s +chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The bonds are here, Simpson!” Colton’s hand +plunged into the water, and came up with a dripping, +shiny black object. “There’s the first package, in +an all-rubber ice bag!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You devil!” Simpson’s rage made his voice +a scream.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Take your prisoner, policemen.” Colton could +not refrain from adding that last scornful word to +the two detectives who had not seen until a blind +man had shown them.</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>IV.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>“Of course, De Roque, who was merely the drug-crazed +tool of the real criminal, would have told +where the bonds were,” declared Thornley Colton, +when they were once more in the shade-drawn +library of the big, old-fashioned house. “But +Simpson would have had time to be on his guard. +The finding of the bonds, as I did, before he had +time to recover his nerve, drew from him those +last betraying words. The police can establish his +connection with the telephone message to Miss +Richmond, the booking of the two passages under +the name of Morris, and the place where he and De +Roque met while the fake Mrs. Bowden was supposed +to be out at day’s work. Those details were not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>even worth bothering with, for me, because the +keyboard of silence told me the guilty persons before +the robbery was committed.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I am as much at sea as ever,” confessed Sydney +Thames.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“In the Regal we saw the first act. Simpson, +with the dare-devilishness that characterizes the +type, introduced me to the accomplice. It was not +wholly dare-devilishness, however, for it was to +prepare the get-away. He wanted, before the time +came for her to disappear, to arouse your sympathy +and my interest in the deaf-and-dumb woman, +whom he had married to accomplish his reformation. +After a fruitless search he would need a long vacation +in Europe, with the bonds, of course, to recover +from the shock. There could be no suspicion +attached to him. No sane man would look for a +deaf-and-dumb wife in the person of a vaudeville +actor dying of tuberculosis and cocaine who had +drug dreams of money coming his way. Once +Simpson had gotten out of the country, De Roque +could have raved and stormed, even confessed, and +his confession would have been accepted as nothing +but cocaine dementia. Simpson never intended to +play fair; it isn’t his nature. From the first time +I ever shook his hand I have known him to be a +born criminal, for I can read hands as the physiognomist +reads faces. And I have the advantage, +because men like Simpson, with the aid of their +strong wills, can mask their emotions behind eyes +and faces so that no man can read their minds. +But they have never given a thought to their hands.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you mean to say you could tell what Simpson +was planning by shaking his hands there in the +Regal?” demanded Thames incredulously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Not quite,” protested Colton laughingly. “But +you know how I shake hands. My long index finger +<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>always rests lightly on the keyboard of silence—the +wrist. With a touch like mine, so light that I can +read handwriting by feeling the ridges left on the +blank side of the paper, not one person in a million +could feel it. I think Miss Richmond did, when I +shook hands with her, because I felt a responsive +thrill. In the case of Simpson his heart was working +like a steam-engine, though his face and eyes +were a mask that neither you nor any man with +eyes could read; my finger-tip on his pulse told +me that he was labouring under some strong excitement. +When I shook hands with his ‘wife,’ I +discovered why.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Why?” echoed Thames blankly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because the wife was a man, and a drug-fiend.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your hand told you that, and my eyes were +deceived!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My knowledge of anatomy told me the man +part. Don’t you know that over the muscles of a +woman is a layer of fat that gives the beautiful +feminine curves? The man’s muscles play directly +under the skin, and the curves of female impersonators +are due to flabby muscles, and not the +feminine fat layer. Besides, the cocaine pulse of +the ‘wife,’ my finger-tip immediately felt the play +of the muscles as the hand gripped mine. Knowing +Simpson, the impersonation could mean nothing +else but a contemplated crime. I further proved it +by getting her to put out her hand before she could +have had any knowledge, by signs, of my intention +to say good-bye. Remember my reference to lipreading? +Simpson was taking no chance of letting +her talk. The cocaine gave her the brightness of +eye, and the heavily-daubed rouge I knew would +have to be there to convince you that she was really +a country girl who didn’t know the use of cosmetics, +and also to cover any trace of man’s beard and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>cocaine pastiness of skin. It would have deceived +any one who had eyes, where an artistic make-up +would immediately have aroused suspicion. Simpson +was a wonderful detailist.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Commonsense told me that Simpson could not +risk working with an amateur. Therefore I set +Shrimp to looking up actors who had been forced +to leave the stage on account of ill health within the +last two months. The whole thing must have been +rehearsed many times, for the detailist would +overlook no detail. In Shrimp’s list was De Roque. +A few telephone inquiries proved that he was really +a cocaine fiend of the worst kind, also that he had +returned, yesterday morning, from a sanitarium, +no better, to his old boarding-house. It was Simpson’s +scheme to let him do that, for it eliminated +him. As soon as I found out that Simpson would +not risk visiting him, Shrimp and John got him on +the pretence that they were from Simpson. Cocaine +snufflers as far gone as he need the drug every hour. +For three hours before the time arranged for Shrimp +to bring him to the bank De Roque hadn’t had a +pinch; he was insane with craving. The visit to +Third Avenue, and the finding of the quills which +cocaine snufflers use to hide the stuff on their bodies +and conceal it in their palms so that no one can see +them snuff it gave me the things I needed to make +him talk. You saw how they worked.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the detectives who helped him out of the +room? How did you ever figure the possibility of +the bonds being in the scrub water?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The protective-agency men told me. Their +eyes saw what my lack of eyes understood. The +yellow bar of soap bobbing on top of the water, I +think one of them expressed it. An instant’s +intelligent thought would tell any one that the +yellow soap used for scrubbing floors never floats. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>The finding of the powdered sulphur showed me the +clever ice-bag trick, for powdered sulphur is always +used by druggists to keep the thin rubber from +sticking together when the bags are in the boxes. +Of course, De Roque carried it with him every night +waiting for his opportunity, and in pulling it out +the powder scattered on the carpet. The natural +thing was to brush it under the safe, where my +handkerchief found it after my slapping hand had +raised the scattered grains he had missed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The ringing of the burglar-alarm was a master-stroke. +It was the link necessary to establish the +innocence of Mrs. Bowden. Simpson, of course, +knew of the connection. De Roque probably +removed his shoes and stood on the rubber ice-bags +while he opened the safe and took out the bonds +and papers Simpson had so accurately described. +Then, when they had all been packed and the safe +closed, a natural stumbling against the safe would +bring the protective-agency men to swear that +nothing could have been taken from the room. +When the time came to leave the building, the pail, +still full of water, was carefully put in a far, dark +corner of the cellar closet, where the scrub pails and +mops are kept. It would have been safe until +Simpson was ready to take the bonds away. That +was why I worked to keep Jamison and his partner +around the bank; I didn’t want Simpson to have +any opportunity to get the loot out.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Of course, it was he who suggested the calling +of the regular police to the flustered President +Montrose. Because, while he was sure that he +could deceive me, he wasn’t taking any foolish +risks. He wanted the central-office men to muddle +the thing as much as possible, and he was shrewd +enough not to overdo the casting of suspicion on +Norris and his wife; the way he put in a word here +<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>and there, and looks, of course, was quite in keeping +with the other details. This morning, I think, he +had begun to realize what I was doing, but there +was nothing he could do but count on a bluff. I +took him off his guard.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>For several minutes the two men smoked in +silence.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But why didn’t you warn some one instead of +letting the robbery go on?” Sydney asked finally.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton’s expressive lips framed a wry smile. +“You will insist on showing the fly in the ointment, +Sydney. The truth is, I was caught napping. But +I guess it’s just as well I didn’t. Jails are built for +the protection of society, and Simpson is the one +man in a thousand against whom society needs +protection.”</p> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span><a id='PROBLEM-SECOND'></a></p> +<div> + <h2 class='c005'><span class="problem-a">THE SECOND PROBLEM</span> <br> <br> <span class="problem-b">UNTO THE THIRD GENERATION</span></h2> +</div> + +<h3 class='c009'>I.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>For weeks the five-hundred-thousand-dollar reception +of the Jimmy Raeltons had been heralded as +the greatest event of the New York social season. +The news columns had been filled with accounts of the +costly preparations, the wonderful gowns, the millions +in jewels that would grace the first appearance of +the Raeltons in society since the Carlton-Browne +reception of thirteen months before. The newspapers +had retold, lest their readers should forget, the +tragic story of the mysterious suicide of Mrs. Jimmy +Raelton’s sister, Mrs. Donald Wreye, on the night +following the Carlton-Browne affair. The consequent +retirement of the Raeltons had been reviewed; +the report of the ill health of Mrs. Raelton had been +substantiated; and the two months’ cruise on the +palatial Raelton yacht was said to have brought +back the bloom to faded cheeks. And to-night the +Jimmy Raeltons were formally to re-enter New +York’s social scheme of things; again to fill the +niche that had been vacant for thirteen months.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The small army of police herded the curious +crowd from the side-walk as a black limousine drove +up silently and came to a stop at the canopied curb. +The door swung open, and men and women, who +would stand patiently for hours to catch a mere +<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>glimpse of the notables they worshipped from afar, +saw the first man alight. The electric globe under +the awning brought out the striking whiteness of +the face and hair; the contrast of the great blue +circles of the smoked-glass, tortoise-rimmed library +spectacles that rested lightly on the thin nose; the +broad shoulders, and deep chest under the Inverness. +The first arrival rapped the pavement lightly +with the slim stick he carried as the apple-cheeked, +black-haired man who accompanied him spoke a +word to the driver and stepped beside him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A policeman touched his hat. “Early, ain’t you, +Mr. Colton?” he greeted the other.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“These things never interest me, Peters,” returned +Thornley Colton, in his deep, musical voice. +“A quiet chat with Jimmy and my goddaughter +before the crowd arrives, then home and quiet.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He started briskly toward the wide steps, the red-cheeked +man so close that his coat-sleeve touched that +of the other. The policeman turned to his partner.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A great guy, Tom,” he observed, in a hoarse +whisper. “He says he’s blind, an’ everybody else +says he’s blind, but if he is, then I wish I was! +That’s all.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The two men had ascended the steps. A man of +impassive face opened the door, two others took +their coats and sticks. Silent-footed servants were +everywhere, deftly arranging the last details before +the guests should arrive. On every hand was evidence +of the lavishness that would mark the reception; +but it was the lavishness of good taste, not +the garishness of mere money. Through the great, +high hall they were conducted to the Moorish room, +where Jimmy Raelton greeted them with characteristic +enthusiasm. But the superkeen ears of +Thornley Colton caught an undercurrent of seriousness +in the host’s voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>“Robbery?” he asked quietly, as the slim, +hollow stick he always carried found a chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Scott, yes!” laughed Raelton; then, seriously: +“That mind-reading stunt of yours is positively +uncanny at times, Colton.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Simple elimination,” explained the blind problemist. +“Something more serious would have +been given publicity before this; something less +serious would not have caused you to ask us here +an hour before guests should arrive.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s more puzzling than really serious,” declared +Raelton. “You know I’m so foolishly happy +to-night because Dorothy is herself again that +nothing else could really matter.” His face lighted +up boyishly. The Jimmy Raeltons had been +married five years, and society still called them the +Newlyweds.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He took a small leather case from the inlaid taboret +beside him, and snapped open the lid. Sydney +Thames, the blind man’s secretary and constant +companion, could not repress a gasp of admiration +as the wonderful diamond necklace sent its thousand +flashing fires toward the shaded lights above.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This is the thing I wanted to see you about,” +quizzically smiled Jimmy Raelton, as he extended +the open case toward the blind man. A question +would be needed here, at least.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton took the case, weighed it on his open palm +an instant, brushed the stones ever so lightly with +the tip of his forefinger, and snapped shut the lid.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Worth fifty thousand—if it wasn’t paste,” he +announced.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Good Lord!” Raelton sank weakly into a big +morris chair, the one anachronism his comfort-loving +body demanded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“To a person with highly sensitive finger-tips +there can be no such thing as a fake diamond; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>because no crystal less hard will hold a sharply-defined +facet edge. When, and how, was the substitution +made?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That is just the point. Since the morning +following the Carlton-Browne reception they have +been in the safe-deposit vault to which only Dorothy +and I have access. You know she has never used +them since; she hasn’t been herself for six months +or so.” A troubled light came to his eyes. “It +wasn’t her sister’s death so much—it seemed to be +something else. Sometimes I almost feared that +she was discontented; that she didn’t want to stay +at home with the kiddies any more. Her father +was always a wanderer, and her grandfather died +in China—you know how. But, thank God, that’s +over. The two months’ cruise on the <i>Sea Mew</i> have +made her the same old Dorothy.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He paused an instant, then came back to the +point. “I’m quite an expert in an amateur way, +and I recognized the substitution instantly to-night. +The discovery seemed to agitate Dorothy terribly. +She always set great store by the necklace—it was +my wedding-present. The thing has upset her so +that she will be positively ill, unless you discover +how the substitution was made, and by whom. +She wouldn’t let me call the police.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where is Dorothy?” asked Colton anxiously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She is lying down. I’m afraid this thing is +going to spoil the whole evening.” Again came the +troubled note. He touched a small silver bell. “I’ll +call her. I want you to convince her that it isn’t +worth worrying about. You can do it, because +she has always looked upon you as a father.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A servant entered, bowed at the order, withdrew.</p> + +<p class='c008'>They waited in silence for the coming of Dorothy +Raelton. Thornley Colton’s mind went back to +the death of Colonel Calvin, the promise given by +<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>the blind man that he would be a father to the two +parentless girls. A look of sadness came to the thin +expressive lips. He was thinking of the other +beautiful daughter; the suicide that had never been +explained.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The servant returned. His ruddy English face had +lost a bit of its colour; his voice trembled slightly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mrs. Raelton is sleeping. The door’s locked—and +Dora can’t wake her.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>In three minds leaped a single, horrible thought. +Jimmy Raelton leaped to his feet, dry-lipped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God, Thornley!” He ran toward the door, +and into the hall. Thornley Colton was at his heels, +supersensitive ears following each footfall unerringly. +Sydney Thames hurried after them; the servant +brought up the rear. They raced up the marble +stairs. In the upper hall a maid leaned against the +wall, wringing her hands.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Raelton!” she sobbed. “Oh, I can’t bear +it!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton had not paused; his slim stick +found the closed door. He turned to face them, on +his countenance an expression Sydney Thames had +never seen before. He spoke to the white-faced +servant.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The guests will begin to arrive any moment, +now,” he said, and his tone was as strange as the +look on his face. “Tell them that Mrs. Raelton +has been taken suddenly ill. The reception is +postponed—indefinitely. Let no one in.” He +waited a moment till the man had gone; then his +hand fell on Jimmy Raelton’s shoulder. “Sydney +and I will go,” he said huskily.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She isn’t―⁠―” Raelton could not finish.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton shook his head sadly. “She isn’t dead, +Jimmy,” he said, and stopped, with a world of +suggestion in his tone.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>“Then I want you to stay,” pleaded the husband +hysterically. “Nothing else matters—if she is +alive.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He thrust his shoulder against the door. The +lock gave way. He staggered in; stopped short +with a gasp of horror. On the wide bed lay Dorothy +Raelton, unconscious, hair disarranged, priceless +gown dishevelled. From one limp hand dangled a +long, black opium pipe. On a low table beside the +bed a sweet-oil lamp burned flickeringly. A small +can of opium was overturned beside it. The needle +that had cooked the drug over the flame stained +the white coverlet of the bed. The pungent smell +of opium smoke was in the air.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Jimmy Raelton darted across the room, flung +himself on his knees beside the bed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God!” he moaned in agony. “My God!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton’s hand fumbled for the knob, +found it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Come, Sydney,” he murmured softly. Mechanically +Thames obeyed. The door closed softly behind +them. The Jimmy Raeltons were alone.</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>II.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Black headlines in the morning papers told of the +strange postponement of the Raelton reception. +Black type told eager readers of the scene in front +of the Raelton home when arriving guests were +met at the door with a startling announcement: +“Mrs. Raelton is ill. The reception has been postponed +indefinitely.” And the door had been closed +in their faces!</p> + +<p class='c008'>Eager readers learned of the silent line of servants +that had filed from the rear entrance of the darkened +house; the fifty thousand dollars’ worth of +flowers left to wilt unseen; the caterers’ elaborate +<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>preparations—estimated to have cost thousands—left +to spoil untasted. Much was made of the fact +that Jimmy Raelton refused even to see a reporter, +and all the papers, yellow and conservative alike, +hinted at a sinister something that would explain +a thing so unprecedented in the annals of New York +society. Two of the most progressive sheets learned +that Doctor Henry, the young physician who had +made such rapid strides in his practice among the +social leaders, had not been called, and knew nothing +of Mrs. Raelton’s reported illness until told by the +reporters.</p> + +<p class='c008'>In the library of his old-fashioned up-town house +Thornley Colton sat with bowed head. At his feet +were the crumpled papers Sydney had read to +him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This is the saddest day of my life, Sydney,” +the blind man said slowly. “I promised Colonel +Calvin that I would watch over his daughters. +His father died an opium fiend.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney’s eyes widened. “I never knew that!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Few did. I have zealously guarded the secret +all my life. Not even the girls knew it, though I +told Jimmy when he married Dorothy. Colonel +Calvin was always afraid of the stain being in the +blood. He had fought the craving, but he feared +for his daughters. I laughed at him, for atavism, +to me, has always seemed merely a cloak for weakness. +Now I am reaping my whirlwind. One is +dead by her own hand, the other an opium fiend. +I can never forget my feelings when I caught the +unmistakable smell of opium smoke before we +opened that door.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silence came again, to be broken by The Fee, a +red-haired, freckle-faced blue-eyed boy, who had +become a part of the Colton household at the conclusion +of a particularly baffling murder case.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>“Dere’s a feller an’ goil downstairs wants to see +yuh. Looks like soivents, and says dere name’s +Rayton.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Only for an instant was the expression of surprise +on the blind man’s face. “Send them up,” he said +quietly, and he rose to meet Jimmy Raelton and +his wife.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A cry of pity came to Sydney Thames’s lips as the +man and woman entered. Jimmy Raelton, in an +ill-fitting suit of blue, a plaid cap pulled down over +his eyes, had grown an old man in a night. Mrs. +Raelton, in a tawdry dress, leaned heavily on the +arm of her husband, as she had leaned when their +disguises took them safely past the cordon of +newspaper men.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silently Thornley Colton took a hand in each +of his, the mobile face telling them what his +tongue could not; silently he lead them to chairs. +Not until they were seated did Jimmy Raelton +speak.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We are going away,” he said, and his tone was +dead, hopeless. “We are going to fight the fight +together. Dorothy wanted to say good-bye—and +tell you.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I couldn’t go without seeing you,” Dorothy +Raelton sobbed chokingly. “It will make it easier—to +know that you understand. I’m glad—that +Jimmy knows at last.” Her voice steadied, and +she went on simply, bravely: “If it hadn’t been +for little Jimmy and Dorothy, I would have done +as Marjorie did—ended it all. Marjorie, too, had +the curse, though I didn’t know it until that hideous +morning I waked with a terrible headache and the +opium pipe on the floor beside me. I screamed for +my maid. Then she told me why Marjorie had +written that pitiful, pleading note, begging me to +take Dora because she could be trusted if anything +<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>happened. Dora was the only one who even +suspected that my sister was an opium fiend, just +as my grandfather was. Marjorie had told her that. +Dora said that she had heard me going downstairs +in the night, and in a dream I seem to remember +going to the Chinese room and taking the opium +set and small glass jar of the drug we kept as +curiosities; but it seems hazy, unreal.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I hid the set in my room; I didn’t dare risk +getting it out. Every week the longing would come. +I’d go blind, insane with craving, and in the morning +I would wake, with the opium pipe beside me, +and the little lamp still burning. Time after time +I tried to hide the things, but in my blind delirium +I always found them. One day I gave them to Dora +for her to destroy, and that night I went and choked +her until she gave them back. She had not had +time to carry out my orders. I don’t remember +going to her at all, but in the morning I waked with +the pipe beside me, and on Dora’s throat were the +marks of my fingers.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She stopped, sobs racking her slender frame. +Beside her Jimmy Raelton’s head was in his hands, +his body quivering. She went on: “Jimmy +thought it was nervous break-down. He insisted +on a long cruise in the yacht. For two whole months +I never once felt the craving! I thought it was +gone! I romped and played with the children; I +laughed and joked with my husband. Then we +planned last night’s reception. My God! The +discovery by Jimmy of the substitute diamonds +in my necklace overwrought me. I went upstairs, +took a headache powder, and I waked―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She broke down utterly. Jimmy Raelton raised +his bowed head. “Now you know the whole +pitiful story. Will you keep our secret till we win +the fight?”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>“Always,” assured Thornley Colton softly. He +laid a gentle hand on Dorothy’s shoulder. “You +may need help, little goddaughter; will you call on +me?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A nod answered him; she could not speak.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The fight will be short; such faith cannot help +but win quickly,” he added. His voice brought a +look that was almost hopeful into the woman’s eyes, +so full of assurance was it. Some subtle special +sense seemed to tell him, for his thin lips curved in +one of their rare smiles of encouragement. “I +know you will win,” he repeated. Then, to change +the subject: “I will investigate the necklace substitution +while you are gone. We’ve forgotten it +completely.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Only the silent Sydney Thames saw the startled +look leap to the eyes of the man and woman. +Dorothy Raelton found her voice first. “Don’t!” +she cried brokenly. “I took the stones. They—were +all—I had—to pay some one.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What!” The tone of Colton’s voice startled +them. In it was amazement; under it was anguish, +the anguish of a man who has made a horrible +mistake. “You have been paying blackmail?” +His voice was almost harsh.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” She scarcely breathed it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How long? To whom?” He was standing +over her now; his attitude half menacing. His +voice compelled an answer.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“For six months,” she whispered, “the letters +have been coming. They said I must pay, or the +world would be told of the curse. I could do nothing +else. I burned the letters as fast as they came, and +I’ve sent fifty thousand dollars to a lock-box in +Philadelphia. I had to sell my diamonds, and have +them replaced by imitations to make the last +payment.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>“My God, what a fool I’ve been!” There was +only anguish in the blind man’s voice now. He +paced the floor with tigerish strides.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you ever remember cooking the opium pill?” +It came like a pistol-shot.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Cooking―⁠―” He gave her no chance to finish.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where did you get the headache powders you +take?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Doctor Grayton gave me the prescription, just +before he died. I have never taken any others.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How often do you take them?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Several times a week. They quiet my nerves. +I have been taking them for years, renewing the +prescription when necessary.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Did you take any on the cruise?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Perhaps a dozen. They prevent sea-sickness.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You never felt the craving for that two months?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Never.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“They put you to sleep?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A light sleep that comes of quieted nerves.” +She was answering the questions automatically, +staring at him. Her husband listened, lips parted, +breath coming fast. Sydney Thames was leaning +forward, tense, expectant.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind problemist whirled from her and continued +his pacing. Twice he made the length of the +room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The inhuman devils!” they heard him mutter. +“God, what devils there are!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Jimmy Raelton could stand it no longer. “What +do you mean?” he cried.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man stopped before him, sightless eyes +behind the round, dark glasses apparently staring +deep into his. “I mean that my neglect is responsible +for this.” There was terrible bitterness in his +voice. “<em>Not a breath of opium smoke has ever +passed Dorothy Raelton’s lips!</em>”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>Dumb, stupefied, they could only stare; then, +as though moved by hidden springs, the man and +woman leaped to their feet. But as quickly as it +came the look of hope died in Dorothy Raelton’s +eyes. She fell back into the chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Don’t!” she sobbed. “I can’t bear it! I’ve +used the horrible stuff a hundred times. I couldn’t +fight against it!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man still stood, swaying ever so slightly, +finger-nails biting into his palms, as his hands +clenched convulsively.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Gently the blind man forced him down into his +chair. “It is true, Jimmy,” he said, and his voice +was normal once more. “I should have known +it last night when the whole game was in my hands. +Now I must start at the beginning. The mind I +have trained for years to be purely eliminative, +that I have thought impervious to outside influences, +is only human, after all. Last night I believed the +evidence of my four senses and did not use my +brain.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Only Sydney Thames realized what this confession +cost the man who had so prided himself on his +infallibility.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t understand,” came dully from Jimmy +Raelton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man resumed his pacing of the room. +“Dorothy doesn’t even know that the opium pill +must be ‘cooked’ over the sweet-oil lamp! She +doesn’t know the first thing about opium smoking! +And last night there was no key on the inside of +the door. <em>It was locked from the outside!</em> I remember +distinctly that my fumbling fingers felt no key as I +went out. I know—now—that none fell. Someone +wanted you”—his finger pointed at Jimmy +Raelton—“to see your wife!” He paused for an +instant, then continued, rapidly, crisply: “The +<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>whole thing is the most devilish blackmail I have +ever heard of. It is based on the one thing that +all the past dead centuries have taught us to fear—atavism. +When Dorothy’s money had gone, and +the selling of the necklace stones told the blackmailers +so, the husband must be the next victim +of the vampire. The scene of last night was arranged +so that only a touch would be needed to explode +the powder-magazine the reception postponement +had started if Jimmy refused to pay. The fiendish +simplicity of it!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But who―⁠―” began Dorothy Raelton, and +there was almost eagerness in her voice. Then the +hopelessness came back. “But it is impossible. +I know―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You know nothing! Where is your maid?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A terrible expression came to Raelton’s face. +“The maid! She―⁠―” The words came like +curses before the problemist stopped him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The maid is absolutely innocent! Absolutely! +Remember that above all things!” cried Colton. +“Where is she?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I sent her to mail a letter so that she +would be out of the way when we started. I +wouldn’t even trust her,” Jimmy Raelton answered +slowly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“To whom was the letter addressed?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“To you. I didn’t want to come here, but +Dorothy insisted.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Did you get a letter from the blackmailer this +morning?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silently Jimmy Raelton took a letter from his +pocket and extended it. Colton received it eagerly, +jerked out the inclosure, laid it face down on the +desk. His hypersensitive finger-tips brushed lightly +the reversed, raised words the typewriter keys had +driven through the paper as he read aloud slowly:</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>“<i>Mr. Raelton.</i></p> + +<p class='c012'>“<span class='sc'>Sir</span>,—May be you don’t know it, but your wife smokes hop. +If you don’t want the wurld to get wise, send 25 one-thousand-dollar +bills to lock-box 117, Philadelphia. Don’t register. +We’ll take a chance they land safe. If you’re too up in the air +to-day give you till to-morrow, but put a personal in the <cite>Telegram</cite> +saying when. And do it, too!”</p> + +<p class='c010'>The blind man paused an instant, then continued: +“The fact that they want the money in +thousand-dollar bills proves that the blackmailers +are persons who can pass them without question, +despite the childish attempt at illiteracy. They +also know that the money would arrive safely +without registry, which would necessitate signing +a receipt. The fact that they want the money sent +to a place so easily watched as a public lock-box +proves that they have some means of getting their +hands on it before it gets there!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He grasped the telephone. “Six thousand +Greeley. <cite>Telegram?</cite> Take a personal for the next +edition. Ready? ‘Lock-box 117. Not even twenty-five +cents.—J. R.’ That’s all. On the street in +an hour? Charge it to Thornley Colton. Right.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>They listened, white-faced; he shot a question +at Dorothy before a protest could be voiced:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Have you ever called in Doctor Henry?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There are things one can’t tell even one’s +physician,” she said simply. “Jimmy called him, +once, when he thought I was suffering from nervous +break-down. Doctor Henry never suspected, couldn’t +suspect. He told Jimmy that his plans for a two +months’ cruise were excellent. That is the only +time I have seen him during this awful six months. +He has dropped in several times to see the children, +but I have been out.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A curious coincidence,” mused Colton idly; +then his questions took a new turn. “You had no +suspicion that your sister was an opium fiend?”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>“No—I wouldn’t have believed—if―⁠―” The +words choked in her throat.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Didn’t you drift apart after her marriage?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Donald Wreye turned out a cad!” blurted +Raelton. “You know that as well as I! He spent +every cent of Marjorie’s money. There wasn’t a +penny of the hundred thousand her father left +when she died. Wreye tried to borrow ten thousand +from me five months ago, and I ordered him from +the house!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Five months ago?” murmured Colton. “He +must have got it from someone. I know he was +on the ragged edge about that time.” He turned +away from them and jabbed two desk-buttons. +“You are going back home now. I want you +to slip in the way you came. Shrimp will go with +you.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He turned to face The Fee, who had answered +one button. “The reporters will probably hold +you up, thinking you servants. Let Mr. and Mrs. +Raelton slip past, then let the newspaper men get +the information that Mrs. Raelton had a serious +heart-attack, also that Doctor Henry was asked +not to divulge the fact that he had been called. +I’ve rung for the machine. It will take you within +two or three blocks of your home. Walk the rest +of the way, and stay indoors until you hear from +me. Now this is important: I want you to give +Shrimp two of the headache powders you have been +taking, without the knowledge of the maid or any +one else. Can you?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Mrs. Raelton nodded dumbly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No one is to know that you have seen me. +No one!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He sat down at the desk and wrote rapidly for a +moment.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Send this telegram on your way back, Shrimp, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>and tell Michael not to wait for you. Sydney and +I want to use the machine.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He held out his hands to the man and woman. +“Good-bye, for a little while,” he said. Silently +he watched them out, then he turned toward +Sydney.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Tell John to serve us a cold lunch immediately.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>For the first time in an hour Sydney Thames +spoke. “Where are we going?” he asked curiously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“To see Donald Wreye.”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>III.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Society had never called the marriage of Marjorie +Calvin and Donald Wreye a brilliant one. Seven +years before Marjorie had entered New York +society, and society had knelt at her feet. She had +many offers of marriage; all were laughed aside. +Then came Donald Wreye, big, blond, masterful. +He carried the little black-haired girl off her feet, +swept the other suitors aside like chaff. He had +neither money nor family. By sheer doggedness he +had fought his way to a ten-thousand-dollar position +in the Street. Society had pleaded with Marjorie +Calvin. Thornley Colton had pleaded. But she +loved with the love that only women of the Southland +feel. They eloped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>For five years the marriage had seemed ideal. +Then came the last year. Marjorie’s sunny nature +changed completely. Wreye was constantly at his +club, drinking, gambling. Thornley Colton was +received almost coldly by the girl he loved as a +daughter. Then she was found in her room, the +pistol she had used beside her.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Wreye cast restraint to the winds then. His +position was lost because of dissipation. He had +opened an office of his own, and although he was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>known to do comparatively little business, for the +past few months he had seemed to have plenty of +money. But to the men and women he had known +in the old days he became a pariah.</p> + +<p class='c008'>And it was to his office that Colton and Sydney +Thames started in the big machine an hour later. +The blind man’s lips were a thin, straight line; +the bloodless face sinister in its grimness. What his +thoughts were none could tell. Sydney’s were a +maze of conflict. The astounding assertion of +Colton’s that Dorothy Raelton had never smoked +opium had carried him off his feet, mentally, when +it was made, but now, with sober afterthought, +came the utter absurdity of it. Dorothy had known—<em>known</em>—that +the blind craving could only be +satisfied by the drug, and she had used it. It was +not within the range of human possibility that <em>she</em> +could be mistaken. And <em>they</em> had seen.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The car came to a stop before a tall office-building +near Wall Street. Colton, cane in hand, stepped +to the side-walk, and, with only the touch of Sydney’s +sleeve against his to guide him, made his way to +the elevator. On an upper floor they halted before +the door with its plain announcement:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Donald Wreye, Broker. Odd Lots.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Following Thornley Colton’s knock came the +slam of a hastily-shut drawer, and a gruff invitation +to enter. The smile of welcome faded as the +heavy-featured man with the tawny hair saw his +visitors.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Well?” he snapped ungraciously, slumping +into the swivel chair without even inviting them +to be seated.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton’s slim stick located a chair before +he answered. “You won’t be well very long unless +you keep away from that black bottle in the drawer,” +he said grimly.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>Wreye jumped to his feet with an oath. “That +bottle’s my own affair,” he snarled. “I’ll drink +when I damn’ please! I’m not in your bootlicking +set any more. I got―⁠―” He stopped suddenly. +“Get down to cases! This is my busy day.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man picked up the chair and placed it +directly before the big man, not two feet from him. +“I want you to answer a few questions.” He said +it simply, quietly, but some indefinable timbre of +his voice made it a command.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll answer if I see fit!” blustered Wreye.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You’ll answer whether you want to or not.” +Still that quiet voice; the velvet covering for the +will of steel beneath it. Sydney Thames held his +breath as he watched the two men. One, a veritable +giant, clumsy in his very bigness, face flushed with +anger and liquor; the other, half a head shorter, +with the chest and shoulders of an athlete, belied +by the well-tailored slimness the faultless clothes +gave him; face and hair white, accentuated by the +big circles of the smoked library-glasses, his cane, +held idly between the slim, supersensitive fingers, +touching the floor a few inches from Donald Wreye’s +foot.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll see about that!” blustered Wreye, and the +words seemed foolishly puerile.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“When did you first discover that your wife was +an opium fiend?” It was put so unexpectedly, so +baldly, that even Sydney Thames gasped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The livid fury mounted to the face of Wreye. +“By God! You―⁠―” His voice trembled with +unleashed passion.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Knife-like Thornley Colton’s voice cut in: +“Answer me!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>And, like lightning, the answer came—a vicious, +smashing right fist straight at the face of the seated +blind man!</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>The exact sequence of ensuing events could never +be told by Sydney, for the simple reason that his +eyes were incapable of following the moves of the +man who was sightless. He remembered leaping to +his feet with a cry of horror as the blind man’s chair +toppled over. Then he saw a purple-faced, cursing +man straining and tugging to release the arms that +were being slowly doubled behind him. A crash of +a great body hurled downward in the heavy swivel +chair, and Thornley Colton, unruffled, breathing +accelerated but a trifle, straightened the tortoise-rimmed +glasses and smiled down at the man he +had so easily mastered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Mechanically Sydney righted the chair and picked +up the blind man’s cane.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thanks,” murmured Colton absently, and +Sydney Thames gasped in amazement at the smile +he saw on the thin lips of the problemist. It was a +smile of pure joy; the joy of a man who has learned +something more easily than he had expected.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Don’t you know that a seated man can’t leap +to his feet without a warning move of the foot on +the floor?” Thornley Colton asked quietly. “My +cane told me what you were going to do the instant +you knew yourself. Do you want to proceed +conversationally or physically?” he finished +grimly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I could kill you for that!” The big man’s +voice was like a sob.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It was raw,” apologized Colton, but both knew +he was referring to the question he had asked, and +not the vicious blow, or the struggle. Then the +menace came again to his voice. “Where did you +get that ten thousand you needed so badly five +months ago?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The effect of this question was fully as startling, +in a totally different way, to Sydney Thames as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>the other had been. The red rage receded from +Wreye’s face, the snarl went from the lips; a +sneering smile came.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So you come from my lily-fingered brother-in-law, +eh? Hasn’t got the nerve to come himself, +I suppose?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where did you get it?” repeated Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, I’ll tell you quick enough. <em>I got it from +Jimmy Raelton!</em>”</p> + +<p class='c008'>If this reply was unexpected, it did not cause +the slightest change of expression on the face of +Thornley Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Quite strange that he should have given you +the money after he had so emphatically refused it +once before, wasn’t it?” he observed quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The black scowl came back to Donald Wreye’s +face. “The letter that came with the money was +devilish plain. The ten thousand was to keep me +away from him and his wife. I was told that I’d +get something worse than mere loss of position if +I even told where it came from. Now I suppose +he wants it back.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, no,” assured Colton, as he rose. “He +doesn’t even know I’m here.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What do you want, then?” There was snarling +suspicion in the voice now.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Information—which I got.” The blind man +smiled down curiously at the scowling man; then +the smile went as quickly as it came. “What +became of Marjorie’s hundred thousand dollars?” +he jerked out.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She―⁠―” Wreye’s jaws snapped together, +the big shoulders hunched aggressively. “If +you’re so damn’ clever, find out!” he challenged +sullenly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames could see the man’s huge muscles +tighten under the coat, as if he expected force once +<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>more, and was prepared to meet it. But Colton +only nodded and turned toward the door.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I will,” he promised grimly. “And I’m going +to have you on hand when I make the discovery.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>It was not until they were on the side-walk outside +that a word was spoken.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A man like that makes my blood boil!” +ejaculated Sydney Thames.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes?” replied the blind man seriously, but +the rising inflection made it enigmatical. His +beckoning finger brought a leather-lunged newsboy.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Latest <cite>Telegram</cite>?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>It was thrust into his hand.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Did Shrimp see the reporters, Sydney?” he +asked, as he handed the paper to Thames and +stepped into the car.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The heart-stroke story is on the first page.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Good! Then the advertisement I telephoned +must be in. Take us to Doctor Henry’s home, +Michael.”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>IV.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>With plenty of money, a distinguished appearance, +and the manners of a courtier, Doctor Charles V. +Henry had entered New York society three years +before, with letters of introduction from prominent +men and women in Paris. He soon opened an office +in the fashionable up-town residential district. He +had an independent fortune—his bachelor apartments +cost him fifteen thousand a year—but it +pleased him to follow his profession, and when +Doctor Grayton died he fell natural heir to his +society practice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do not tell me that you are ill, Mr. Colton!” +he laughed, as he ushered the blind man and Sydney +into his quietly luxurious office half an hour after +they had left Donald Wreye.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>“Old Hippocrates and I are sworn enemies,” +smiled the problemist. “I came to get a little +professional information.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes?” politely from the physician, as he +accepted a proffered cigarette.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It is this.” Colton spoke seriously; all trace +of the smile had gone. “Is there any medicinal +cure for opium craving?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The heavy lashes of the doctor veiled his eyes +as he looked down thoughtfully at the floor. “There +are several reputed cures,” he said finally. “The +most effective, and simple, probably, is rice powder +and morphia. The morphia satisfies the violent +craving at first, then the drug is diminished gradually, +until the patient is satisfied with the harmless +rice powder. This is effective, however, only in the +first stages.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I am speaking of atavistic craving. The opium +craving, having skipped one generation, appears +doubly strong in the next.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You mention a rare case,” said Doctor Henry +slowly; “and an incurable one. The effect of +opium smoking, primarily, is a sensation of the +nerves, or, rather, lack of sensation. The nerves +feel the craving first. When that craving finds +lodgment in the brain, the case is hopeless. With +the inherited craving the process is absolutely +reversed. The seat of the trouble is in the brain +before the nerves know the drug, and when the +nerves once feel the satisfied craving, it becomes a +monomania. There is no cure.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>For a full minute there was silence in the office. +Thornley Colton blew thoughtful smoke-rings +toward the ceiling. Sydney Thames was conscious +of a strange, new feeling toward the man he loved; +the man who had picked him up as a bundle of baby-clothes +on the banks of the English river that had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>given him the only name he had ever known. The +feeling was almost bitter. He could not keep his +mind from the man and woman that Colton had +sent back to their home but a short time before, +full of hope, of joy. Now he realized that the words +had been but empty encouragement. And there +was no hope!</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton spoke again. “I disagree with +you, doctor. There is a cure!” He had risen to +his feet; his voice trembled with vehemence.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The physician, startled from his usual professional +calmness, was on his feet, staring. Colton took a +step forward, stumbled blindly against a chair, his +hands thrust out gropingly. Before Sydney Thames +could reach him, Doctor Henry was again the cool +physician. He extended a hand, and led the blind +man back to his seat.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I forgot myself,” apologized the blind man +huskily. “This thing has unnerved me.” He +swallowed hard, his voice became normal. “The +time for equivocation is past, doctor; I’m going +to be frank. Dorothy Raelton is an opium fiend!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The physician half rose again from his chair in +amazement. “Why—why—such a thing is incredible!” +he gasped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Briefly, dispassionately, Colton told him of the +night before. “Now,” he continued, “for the +cure.” Again there was excitement in his voice. +“Early to-morrow morning the Raeltons start for +a year’s cruise on their yacht. I am making all the +arrangements. They will go to the South Pacific, +and keep wholly out of touch with the world, Mrs. +Raelton will not take her maid, Jimmy will not even +have his man. They will be absolutely alone, except +for the crew. What do you think of that?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Doctor Henry’s fingers ceased their nervous +drumming on the chair-arm, his lowered eyes raised. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>“It may be effective,” he admitted, in his deepest +professional tones. “At what time—do they start?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“With the seven-o’clock tide. To-night Mrs. +Raelton is going to receive a few intimate friends, +and explain last night’s postponement. By the +way”—he took the newspaper he had purchased +from his pocket—“I used your name in explaining +to the reporters the cause of last night’s affair. I +knew you wouldn’t object.” The physician took +the paper eagerly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The problemist was almost to the door before he +remembered another question. “Did you ever +suspect that Mrs. Donald Wreye was an opium +fiend?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The unexpectedness of the question made Doctor +Henry forget his usual suave manner for an instant, +and his voice was almost sharp as he replied: +“She was not! Her death was―⁠―” He stopped +suddenly; then, in a different tone, “I am going +to meet your frankness with frankness,” he said +slowly. “I have always thought Mrs. Wreye’s +suicide was a natural result of an utter breaking +of her hypersensitive nervous system.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Her husband?” put in Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes!” emphatically.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Marjorie Wreye’s death was not a suicide!” +Colton spoke quietly, but in his tone was that +ominous menace Sydney Thames had noticed so +many times that day. “It was deliberate murder! +Good-day, doctor.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He extended his hand. It was taken by the +serious-faced physician. Thornley Colton nodded +a jerky farewell, and hurried from the office, his +brain automatically counting the steps it had +registered when he entered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>In the car, speeding homeward, Sydney Thames +drew a long breath.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>“Great Scott!” he murmured. “What a +villain he is!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Doctor Henry?” There was mild surprise in +the blind man’s voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Donald Wreye,” corrected Sydney shortly. +“Hanging is too good for him!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Did you notice the almost curious resemblance +between the deep professional tones of Doctor +Henry and the ordinary voice of Wreye?” asked +the problemist seriously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Without giving Thames a chance to reply he +leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Take us +to the nearest drug-store telephone pay-station, +Michael,” he ordered. And as the car turned in +toward the curb he explained to Sydney: “I must +tell the Raeltons of my plans; also get twenty +grains of trional and a heavy rubber band. Trional +is one of the few harmless narcotics. The rubber +band is <em>highly</em> important. It is going to trap the +most inhuman criminal I have ever known!”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>V.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Sydney Thames paced the library floor impatiently. +Where was Thornley Colton? For three hours he +had asked himself that question. The blind problemist +had spent fully half an hour in the closed telephone +booth at the drug-store after he had purchased +two morphia powders and half a dozen strong rubber +bands. Then, when Michael had driven them home, +Sydney had been curtly ordered from the machine, +and the eager-eyed Shrimp had taken his place as +guide.</p> + +<p class='c008'>As he walked he tried to piece together the events +of the day; to discover some loose end in the snarl +of circumstances. But his mind refused to find +logic in the tangle of statements, of events that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>apparently led nowhere. Donald Wreye was a +villain. He had driven his wife to suicide after +squandering her fortune. That was certain. But +what part had he in the life of Dorothy Raelton? +Why had Jimmy Raelton secretly sent him ten +thousand dollars after openly refusing it? Why +had Raelton pretended such bitterness against his +brother-in-law that morning? Why had Colton +made the astounding statement that Dorothy +Raelton had never smoked opium, and then sought +a physician’s advice for a possible cure? Why +had the blind man remarked the similarity of +Donald Wreye’s voice to that of Doctor Henry? +These, and a hundred more, raced back and forth +through his brain like a flying shuttle. He took out +his watch for the fiftieth time; then turned eagerly +as the blind man hurried into the room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>With a sigh of weariness Thornley Colton dropped +into a chair and lighted a cigarette; when he spoke +there was weariness in his voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A strange case, Sydney,” he said slowly, as +though he had accepted this first quiet opportunity +for retrospection. “The strangest I have ever +known. A crime so damnably ingenious that even +I—who have made a study of crime and criminals +for years—did not recognize it. A crime so infernally +clever that even the victim refuses to believe that +it is a crime. A criminal who could confess +this minute, and be laughed to scorn by any jury +in the land. It is a crime unique in the annals of +crime.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He took a telegram from his pocket. “Here is +the answer to a query I sent regarding the lock-box +in Philadelphia.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney took it and read:</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Lock-box 117 one of six rented to Philadelphia Insurance +Co. for past five years.”</p> + +<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>“That means an accomplice there!” ejaculated +Sydney.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It proves my former statement that the blackmailer +never allowed the money to get to that box. +And there could be only one method of interception +in this case. It was never mailed!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But Mrs. Raelton said―⁠―” began Sydney +dazedly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She also said she was an opium fiend,” interrupted +Colton brusquely. Again his hand went +to his pocket; on his palm as he extended it +were two white, folded papers. “These are the +powders Shrimp brought. The papers have been +changed by me, but these powders have been used +to mask the weapon of a fiend. Get me a glass of +water.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Mechanically Sydney obeyed. He returned in a +moment with the water and a question.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But Mrs. Raelton declared that Doctor Grayton +had given her those powders?” he objected.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” Thornley Colton carefully unfolded one. +“And Doctor Grayton has been dead two years.” +He held the paper, opened, between his thumb and +forefinger. “These powders were used to cause the +suicide of Marjorie Wreye and make Dorothy +Raelton, to all intents and purposes, an opium +fiend!” He raised the powder to his lips, dropped +it on his tongue. Sydney could not repress a gasp +of horror. The blind man took a sip of the water, +and stood up, fingers feeling the crystalless watch +in his pocket. “It is seven o’clock, Sydney, time +we were starting for the Raelton home. The +machine is waiting.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames licked his dry lips. “My God, Thorn!” +he choked. “It isn’t—poison?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No.” The blind man’s smile held no humour. +“These powders are perfectly harmless. Doctor +<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>Grayton was a careful practitioner, and his prescriptions +have helped my headaches before.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But what—how―⁠―” gulped Sydney, amazed +into incoherence by this new convolution.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll tell you later,” promised Thornley Colton. +“I can’t now. There is too much at stake to spoil +with premature explanations.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He took his hat and coat from the tree, and +hurried down the stairs, Sydney following. In the +automobile the blind man lay back in the deep +seat, only rousing when the machine came to a stop +before the Raelton home. The awning canopy was +gone now; there was no waiting crowd. Another +machine came to a stop behind them; where it had +come from Sydney did not know. Then came a +feminine greeting; the blind man lifted his hat, +and hurried to the other car unerringly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How are you, Mrs. Neilton, and you, Mrs. +Bracken, also your husbands?” The assumed +cheeriness in the voice seemed perfect to the listening +Sydney Thames. As the blind man assisted the +women to alight, Thames was surprised to note +that they were all strangers to him. As Colton’s +constant companion and guide he knew most of the +blind man’s friends, though his memory of faces +was not to be compared with the blind problemist’s +wonderful memory of voices.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney was introduced to the men and women +as Thornley Colton’s secretary; they were presented +to him as friends of the Jimmy Raeltons, +who had come to see them on the eve of the departure +for the South Pacific.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Together they mounted the steps. Thornley +Colton rang the bell. And the door was opened +by the red-haired Shrimp!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The servants is all gone,” explained the boy, +as he closed the door after them. “All but Mrs. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>Raelton’s maid. Mr. Raelton’s in the Moorish +room.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>But at the first sound of their voices Jimmy +Raelton had hurried out to meet them; his face +was still haggard, and in the eyes was a piteous +expression of pleading.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where is Mrs. Raelton?” asked Thornley +Colton quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She is lying down. I’ll call her.” Raelton +had not even nodded to the two men and the +women who were quietly watching.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Wait!” Thornley Colton grasped his arm. +Some one was coming up the steps outside. The +door-bell rang. Shrimp opened it, and into the hall +stumbled Donald Wreye! His bloodshot eyes +blinked in the bright light as he glared at them, +his hands twitched at his sides. He hunched his +great shoulders, and clenched his fists to get a grip +on himself.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where’s―⁠―” he began, in the deep, hoarse +voice so like that of the physician.</p> + +<p class='c008'>From above them came a frightened scream—a +woman’s scream.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Raelton! Mr. Raelton!” It was the +maid.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He bounded toward the stairs, the others at his +heels. At the top was the maid, weeping and +wringing her hands.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She told me to get myself something to eat, and +I wasn’t downstairs twenty minutes,” she cried +hysterically. “And I found her―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Jimmy Raelton dashed past her. Sydney felt +Colton brush past him, and realized that somehow +he had gotten behind the others when they started.</p> + +<p class='c008'>At the door of the room where they had stopped +the night before they halted again. The door was +not even closed this time, and once more their eyes +<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>took in the same scene. But the electrics were out +now, only the flickering rays of the sweet-oil lamp +shone on the sleeping woman and the opium-pipe +at her side.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God! Again!” The words came in sobs +from Jimmy Raelton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He tried to leap forward, but the outstretched +hand of Thornley Colton stopped him. Then the +others saw the blind man dart across the room to +the bed without a false move; saw him pick up a +white, dangling arm, brush his fingers up the whole +length of it, under the flowing sleeve of the loose +kimono, then stop at the wrist. They were all +around him now. He straightened up to face them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s something more, this time,” he said huskily. +“Mrs. Raelton is dead!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Dead!” the terror-stricken word came from the +maid. The others seemed suddenly turned to stone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silently Colton held the arm for her to feel the +pulse. Her fingers found the artery, her face went +dead white. They could hear the fluttering gasp +of her breath as she dropped the arm.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Raelton brushed past her; his trembling fingers +searched for a single faint heart-beat. A cry of +agony burst from him. Colton gently drew him +away.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Phone Doctor Henry, Dora!” he ordered +sharply. Then he seemed to sense that the maid +was staring at Donald Wreye, who stood in the +centre of the room, swaying back and forth, hands +clenching and unclenching at his sides.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“<em>You</em>, Wreye!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man’s voice seemed to galvanize +Donald Wreye into action. He whipped a revolver +from his pocket.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Like Marjorie, eh?” His laugh seemed insane. +“Get out of here, all of you!”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>He stood beside the door-way, the revolver +threateningly sweeping the silent men and women. +Jimmy Raelton tensed his body for a spring, but +Thornley Colton’s hand viced his arm.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We can do nothing,” he whispered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Like sheep they filed past the menacing pistol, +the two men and women who had met them outside +going first. In the hall-way they stopped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Straight ahead!” ordered Wreye. He spoke +over his shoulder to the maid. “Call Doctor +Henry,” he sneered. “Go downstairs and call +him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The girl’s limbs seemed hardly able to support +her as she walked past him to the head of the stairs. +He turned his attention again to the driven men +and women. Sydney’s eyes caught a glimpse of a +portiered door-way at their left, but Colton’s grip +on his arm held him. Down the hall they went. +A door was open at the extreme end, the key in the +outside of the lock.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“In there, all of you!” ordered Wreye.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The women stumbled in. The men followed. +The door slammed behind them. The key turned. +Outside they heard running footsteps.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He’s gone down the backstairs,” muttered one +of the men.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The dot of light at the keyhole disappeared.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He’s put out the lights,” hoarsely whispered +the other.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton took something from his pocket. +He inserted it in the keyhole; they heard the bolt +slip back.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He’ll return,” he whispered. “You four stay +here and kick at the door. The darkness means +nothing to me. I’m going to take Sydney and +Raelton outside to watch. Give us a minute, and +then begin your noise.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>He opened the door without a sound. His hands +on the two men’s arms drew them out. The blackness +of the unlighted hall was impenetrable, but +the blind man pulled them forward almost on a +run. Sydney’s feet mechanically obeyed the pulling +arm; Raelton, still in a daze, was merely an automaton +obeying the will of a master. The blind +man thrust them through the portieres Sydney had +noticed before.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Not a sound!” he warned, as he dragged them +down to the floor, his fingers biting deep into their +arms.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The house echoed with the blows of feet and fists +on the door of the room they had just left. A +door slammed downstairs. They heard the voice +of The Fee, shrill with fright.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Dere all locked in back!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Hurried footsteps sounded on the stairs. They +heard a woman’s voice whisper; a man’s deep, +hoarse voice in answer. Sydney’s muscles grew +tense. It was the heavy voice of Donald +Wreye!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She’s dead, I tell you!” trembled the maid. +They were passing the door now.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man’s answering whisper sounded like the +growling of an animal. “You little fool!” he +hissed. “You let the other get away from us, +and this one was worth a million―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The words ended in a woman’s scream. They +heard the sound of a falling body. A man’s curse. +A short struggle. Then the dull impact of fist +against flesh. Thornley Colton’s gripping hands +relaxed. He jumped through the sheltering +portieres. His voice cut the darkness:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Stop, Wreye, stop! Doctor Henry is unconscious! +Shrimp!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The incandescents leaped to light.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>On the floor was the maid, senseless. Near her +was Doctor Henry, limp, torn, his face bruised +and beaten. Standing over him was Donald Wreye, +panting, trembling.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The two men who had stayed in the locked room +came running forward, shining handcuffs in their +hands.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Handcuff Mrs. Henry,” ordered Colton. “She +has only fainted.” He turned to face the still-dazed +Jimmy Raelton and Sydney. “There is the +atavistic vampire!” He touched the limp body +of the physician as though it was a snake. “God +knows how many lives he has ruined with his +devilish schemes. He blackmailed Marjorie Wreye +out of a hundred thousand dollars, and murdered +her as surely as though his finger had pulled the +trigger that sent the bullet crashing into her brain. +He made Donald Wreye a pariah. And he almost +succeeded in ruining the lives of you and Dorothy.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The name aroused Jimmy Raelton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Dorothy!” he cried brokenly. “He killed +Dorothy!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man’s hand fell gently on his shoulder. +“It was necessary that she should sleep through +it all,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think she could +stand another dose of the doctor’s morphia, so the +powder she took was trional powder. She will +wake in an hour, suffering no ill effects. If you’ll +remove the tight rubber band I put on her arm +under the kimono sleeve the blood will flow back +through the pulse.”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>VI.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Sydney and Thornley Colton were back in the +library of the old-fashioned house. The blind man +had removed the tortoise-rimmed glasses, and +around his head and over his eyes was an alcohol-soaked +<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>bandage to relieve the splitting headache +the loss of his usual four hours of darkness in the +afternoon had produced.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, it was melodrama, Sydney,” he admitted. +“But it was necessary. It was carefully staged to +shatter the nerves of the cool Dora, and arouse the +doctor’s anger at what he thought was a mistake +of his accomplice. That last resulted in the angry +confession we overheard. I knew his temper would +give way under certain conditions, and I made +those conditions. Shrimp was stationed downstairs +to let him in at the proper moment, and also +to keep the maid and the doctor from confidences +until they were upstairs, where they could hear +the door-pounding, and would suppose we were all +together. Of course, the quartet of men and women +were private detectives posing as guests to deceive +the maid. They were stationed around the corner +with orders to follow right behind us. Wreye was +across the street from the Raelton house, so that +he could run over and ring the bell a moment after +we entered.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But how did Doctor Henry happen to be there?” +demanded the puzzled Sydney.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Shrimp, mimicking the maid’s voice, called him +up the minute our machine appeared, and told him +that Mrs. Raelton was dead. He rang off before +the doctor could get in a word. But that gave +Henry all the time he needed to get there. Shrimp +says the physician fumed and fretted in the vestibule +fully three minutes before the boy heard the door-pounding +that was the signal to admit him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But I thought Donald Wreye―⁠―” began +Sydney helplessly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It was Doctor Henry and the maid from the +first. Pure elimination and the headache powders +told me that.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>“But you said the powders were harmless, +that Doctor Grayton was careful,” objected Sydney.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Their harmlessness was the crux. It put them +above suspicion, but when it became necessary to +impress Dorothy Raelton with the fact that she +was a hopeless opium fiend the powder the maid +gave her was a heavy dose of morphia, which is +the base of opium, and produces almost the same +after-effects. Of course, as soon as Dorothy became +unconscious the outfit was arranged for her awakening. +Dorothy’s highly-strung nervous system, like +that of her sister, made it easy for a strong mind +like that of the maid to make her know—<em>know</em>—that +she had smoked the drug in a blind delirium +of craving. And the wonderful suggestive stories +of the maid, and the fake finger-marks on her +throat, made the thing complete. I understood +them all when I heard of the blackmail, but it was +necessary to impress the Raeltons with Dora’s +innocence so that she would be unsuspicious until +the time came for the dénouement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The ten thousand I knew Wreye must have got +puzzled me at first, though it didn’t seem possible +that he could be in the plot. The interview in the +morning proved his utter incapability of such a thing. +The game required a cool, iron-nerved man. His +actions during our talk proved conclusively that he +was neither. Five minutes’ conversation with +Doctor Henry gave me all I wanted to know. His +coolness, his nerve, the fact that he had called at +the Raelton home several times when Mrs. Raelton +was out, ostensibly to see the children, but really +to see the maid, the clever way he blamed Wreye +for Marjorie’s suicide, his eager desire to know at +what time the Raeltons sailed in the morning, the +manner in which he took the paper he knew should +contain the personal, were all guide-posts on the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>right track. His beautifully clever explanation why +the opium craving I described could not be alleviated +was intended to show me my helplessness. +But it gave me what I wanted. Pretending to +stumble, I got his hand in mine; my finger was on +his pulse—the Keyboard of Silence. He knew I +was going to tell him of Dorothy! Though his face +was a mask, his heart-beats showed the nervousness +underneath; the nervousness no eye could have +detected. That was the final proof.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then I realized his real cleverness. <em>He</em> had sent +the money to Wreye with a forged note, apparently +from Raelton. The maid had undoubtedly told him +of Wreye’s need and attempt to borrow from his +brother-in-law, and the doctor was afraid that +Wreye, in a hot-headed rage at continued refusals, +would blurt out Marjorie’s trouble, and cause a +premature confession from Dorothy before the +blackmailer had gotten her firmly in his clutches. +Henry was overlooking no possibility, and the ten +thousand was a paltry amount, beside what he +expected to get. Of course, you see how he really +got the money into his hands? The envelopes +containing the bills, given to a trusted maid to mail +to the fake lock-box, were merely handed over to +the real vampire. There was no chance of detection.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This afternoon Shrimp and I went to Wreye’s +office and explained the whole game to him. He +refused to believe, at first, because Marjorie had +confessed five months before her death that she +was an opium fiend. Wreye was more of a man +than we ever thought. He hid the fact from the +world. He let her go her own way. He didn’t +suspect the blackmailing, because Marjorie probably +feared to tell him, lest his temper should lead him +to expose the secret in his efforts to seek out the +blackmailer. And when she died, penniless, he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>supposed she had lost her money gambling, the +usual passion that follows opium smoking. He kept +quiet, but naturally he was bitter against the whole +world.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But I finally persuaded him to do his part in +trapping the vampire. Remember the similarity of +the two voices? That was my trump card. I +knew that my story of the Raeltons’ early departure +and the curt advertisement would rouse the doctor +to drastic action, and force him to call up Dora, +and give new instructions. That was what I wanted—it +would make her unsuspicious when the second +call I planned came. It worked like a charm. She +never suspected the voice. It was then, by the +way, that we learned Dora was really Mrs. Henry, +and that she was getting tired of her part. We +learned, also, that Mrs. Raelton was to be given +an extra heavy dose of morphia, so that it would +be impossible for her to get away in the morning. +Doctor Henry needed time, you see.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Wreye, impersonating the doctor over the phone, +gave her new instructions. The same plan was to +be followed, but the doctor would send her two new +powders—they were my trional powders; I wouldn’t +take a chance on morphia again—and she was to +arrange the opium set as usual, and scream for +Jimmy as soon as Donald Wreye arrived. Then, if +anything went wrong, she was to foist suspicion +upon Wreye, who, she was told, was on the verge +of delirium tremens, and would be sent by the +doctor on some pretext.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Donald, as you saw, could hardly control +himself, but that made him perfect in her eyes, +though I had to stay behind a second after you +started upstairs to warn him, and I also had to +give him his cue in the room before he acted. My +little trick with the rubber band utterly unnerved +<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>the maid, who supposed that her husband had +really sent poison. So, when the doctor got there, +they were at cross-purposes, and the angry betrayal +we heard was the logical result.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>For a minute there was silence; then Sydney +Thames spoke. “But Wreye, why did you let +him―⁠―” There was no need to finish.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It was pure brutishness, Sydney,” confessed +Thornley Colton slowly. “The brutishness that +makes us think of physical revenge before we think +of the law. There are crimes so foul that we want +to pound, to tear their perpetrators. The driving +to death of one innocent girl and the nearly successful +attempt to make a mental wreck of Dorothy +Raelton, who had never known the taste of opium +smoke in her life, is one of them. My fingers itched +for Doctor Henry’s throat. But Donald Wreye’s +right came first. He took it. I am glad.”</p> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span><a id='PROBLEM-THIRD'></a></p> +<div> + <h2 class='c005'><span class="problem-a">THE THIRD PROBLEM</span> <br> <br> <span class="problem-b">THE MONEY MACHINES</span></h2> +</div> + +<h3 class='c009'>I.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>The man in the long blue car was a person of consequence. +The big traffic policeman had stopped +all north and south traffic, but the chauffeur of the +blue machine darted in front of a stopped Bowling +Green car without the slightest slackening of speed, +and shot between an eastbound slot car and a +westbound delivery truck. Traffic cop 7389 saluted +gravely and silenced with a warning scowl the +snarling driver of a held-up van, who had to reach +the ten-thirty boat.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The lone occupant of the roomy tonneau, rigidly +straight on the cushions, answered the salute with +a barely perceptible nod of his head, and a half +smile of the thin, almost bloodless lips. But there +was no change of expression in the granite-hard +gray eyes, nor a movement of the straight back. +One lean hand gripped the tonneau door, the fingers +resting just above the small silvered monogram on +the blue enamel; the other dropped lightly on the seat +beside his knee. John T. Villers, the power behind +the throne of Money, was on his way to his office.</p> + +<p class='c008'>It was characteristic of the man that he did not +lounge back in his seat; that his pose was one of +tense rigidity. No one had ever seen John T. +Villers relax; none of the hundreds who knew him +<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>thought that he could relax. Alert, watchful, a +machine for the massing of millions; a machine +that never required rest; that never needed the +lubrication of pleasure to insure its smooth running; +a human mechanism that never deviated a +hair’s breadth from its schedule. Such was the +king of the kings of finance.</p> + +<p class='c008'>At ten-fifteen he would be at his office in Wall +Street. Elsewhere, a monarch of half a million +fighting men paced the floor of his castle room, +impatiently awaiting the word that a simple touch +of a desk button in that Wall Street office would +bring. Ten thousand yellow coolies, half a world +away, idled in bamboo-thatched construction huts +for a stroke of John T. Villers’s pen. And he +answered the salute of a traffic policeman!</p> + +<p class='c008'>Men and women on Broadway halted in their +hurrying to stare at the big blue car, and the silent, +straight-backed occupant; for the face and the +pose of the financier were as familiar to the reading +public as Broadway itself. Weak-chinned men of +the unemployed ranks cursed the “luck” that gave +him money and them hunger. Clerks, from high +office windows, bemoaned the fate that compelled +them to commence work at eight and allowed him +to begin at ten. There was no sign in the hard +gray eyes of the man who answered the traffic +men’s salutes that the money machine had been +working until daylight over the inch-thick packet +of papers now buttoned tightly beneath his coat. +The machine never showed signs of its running.</p> + +<p class='c008'>At Murray Street a deeper inclination of the head +was the honour paid a business friend in a passing +automobile. At Park Place the blue machine +skirted ahead of the traffic block where the huge +Woolworth Building mounted skyward. A taxi +darted in front of it, tried to cut in ahead; then +<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>stopped. Villers’s chauffeur cursed under his breath +as he swerved toward the curb. The wheels of the +smooth-running car struck the thin end of a building +girder, ran over it with a great jolt that jarred the +car body down on its springs. A fat traffic cop +hurried across the street just as the stalled taxi +came to life and scurried down Broadway. The +blue car had never even paused; the incident was +closed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chauffeur bent lower over his wheel so that +his muttered oaths would not reach the silent man +behind him, for he knew that his job hung on the +hair of his employer’s morning humour. John T. +Villers’s one rule, whether it be for trusted clerks or +chauffeurs, was smoothness; he did not like jolts.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The next traffic cop, who had sworn sympathetically +when he saw that jar, let his jaw drop and his +salute become a gesture of surprise. The lone +man in the tonneau was lying back in the cushions, +his eyes closed, the fingers of the hand that had +been on the door relaxed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“’Tis a tired man he is this mornin’,” muttered +the traffic man in sympathy.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The car swung into Wall Street, stopped before +the world-known banking house of Villers. Instantly +the chauffeur was down, his hand pulled open the +door. But the machine that never relaxed was +sleeping. Wonderment came to the face of the +driver; then fear. He laid a hand lightly on the +shoulder of his employer. The breathing man did +not stir. The fear on the chauffeur’s face deepened. +Mr. Villers must be sick!</p> + +<p class='c008'>He obeyed the first instinct, and looked wildly +around. Relief chased some of the fear away when +he saw the approaching private watchman, who +had been stationed before the Villers’s house for +years.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>“Mr. Villers is sick!” he cried.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The watchman brushed him aside, and stared at +the bloodless face with the closed, blue-veined lids.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He must ’a’ fainted!” gasped the watchman; +and he, too, looked wildly around for help.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Can I be of any assistance?” Both jumped +nervously as the stout, full-bearded man with the +black satchel spoke. “I am a doctair.” He +enunciated the words slowly, distinctly, with a +pause after each.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Villers has fainted.” They chorused it, +huge relief in their voices, and stepped back instantly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The bearded man stepped to the car, ripped open +the unconscious man’s coat and vest, and placed his +hand over the beating heart professionally.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Heart trouble. Seerious,” he told them slowly, +as if the words caused him trouble. “Tell them +inside.” Both started. He called the watchman +back. “Spread the robe on the side-walk.” The +watchman’s clumsy fingers fumbled with the robe +as the physician put his ear to the financier’s chest, +muttered an angry ejaculation, and fumbled with +the black bag at his feet.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s ready, sir.” Then the watchman swore +under his breath at the crowding men and boys +who had apparently sprung from the very side-walk.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The big man paid not the slightest attention. +He lifted the slight form of the man of millions and +laid it gently on the robe-covered stones. “He +must go to a hospital,” he announced with precise +distinctness. “I will call the ambu-lance.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The crowd parted, he hurried through.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Inside the banker’s office the chauffeur blurted +the news to the multi-millionaire’s private secretary, +utterly unmindful of the two strangers who were +with him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Fainted?” echoed the secretary blankly.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>“Fainted?” repeated the red-cheeked, black-haired +stranger.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Men like Villers don’t faint. Where is he?” +The chauffeur stared at the deep-chested, striking-looking +man with the wavy white hair, fine as silk, +and the strong, lean face, whose extreme paleness +was accentuated by the great blue circles of the +smoked tortoise-shell library glasses that rested +lightly on the nose with its delicate, sensitive +nostrils. “Show me where he is, Sydney.” The +cleft chin was set at an ominous angle, his slim +stick, apparently of heavy ebony, dangled idly +between the tapering fingers of his right hand.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Can’t you see the crowd running?” The shock +had made the chauffeur forget that he was only a +chauffeur; he jerked his head toward the door he +had opened so unceremoniously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I am blind.” The white-haired man said it +simply, quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Come, Thorn.” His apple-cheeked secretary led +the way from the office, the blind man at his heels. +Villers’s private secretary and the chauffeur followed +dumbly after.</p> + +<p class='c008'>There were now two policemen to keep the surging +crowd from the still body of the master of +millions on the cold side-walk. The outer ranks +parted for the apple-cheeked man, the blind one +followed him to the centre. One of the policemen +mopped his brow in relief as they entered the small +circle.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It looks like heart trouble, Mr. Colton,” he +murmured nervously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Think so, Thompson?” The end of the slim +stick touched a knee of the prostrate man lightly. +Thornley Colton knelt and picked up a lax arm. +His fingers felt the pulse.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s what the doctor said it was.” The +<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>watchman licked his dry lips. “He ought to be +back by now.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Doctor?” snapped the kneeling man, without +looking up.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He laid him there t’ call th’ ambulance.” Once +more the watchman wet his lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Who is Mr. Villers’s physician?” The blind +man’s finger-tips were lightly brushing the coat-lining.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Doctor Clayton.” The private secretary +answered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Get him. Quick!” The tone of the voice sent +a bareheaded clerk who had followed them on the +jump to obey.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is it a serious heart attack?” stammered the +still-dazed private secretary.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Heart attack? <em>No!</em>” The blind man spoke +sharply, crisply. “This is a morphine stupor!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Morphine?” gasped the dazed secretary +incredulously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes!” The word was jerked out, a slim fore-finger +and thumb raised an eyelid of the prostrate +man. “See the contracted pupils? Pin-points!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But how―⁠―Thank Heaven, Mr. MacLaren!” +The secretary’s voice changed from helpless amazement +to joyous relief as the square-shouldered, +square-chinned man with the iron-gray hair pushed +his way though the crowd.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God! What does this mean?” cried the +new comer.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man rose, picked up his stick, and +brushed his trousers knees.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It means robbery—now,” he said grimly. +“It will probably mean murder in a few hours!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Dreyfus MacLaren, the one man in all the world +who enjoyed the full confidence of John T. Villers, +paced the floor of his office with nervous strides, +halting at every turn, ears strained to catch the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>faintest sounds from the inner room, where the +doctor worked over the unconscious money machine. +On the street outside, stretching from the sub-treasury +steps to the dingy buildings where the sugar +brokers buy and sell, the crowd still waited, whispered. +In the outer room of the financier’s office +came the low-voiced hum of half a hundred newspaper +men, tensely waiting a word from that inner +room. At the end of his small office MacLaren +swung around to face the blind problemist, who +rolled the thin, hollow stick he always carried +between his tapering white fingers.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God, Mr. Colton!” he broke out. “It +couldn’t have happened!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It did,” answered the blind man mildly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But he was in an open automobile; a thousand +persons saw him; he answered the salutes of, +perhaps, fifty policemen along Broadway. No one +was near him; no one could have got near enough +to render him unconscious with morphine.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The fact that he is still in a morphine stupor +is the best answer to that.” Thornley Colton’s +voice was still mild, even gentle.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You say that the man who lifted him out of the +car did not inject the stuff?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. The bounding pulse my fingers felt told +me immediately that it had been in the system at +least ten minutes. The bounding pulse, as it is +called, is peculiar to morphia. I have made a +special study of pulse beats.” The blind man did +not add that the pulse, to him, was the Keyboard +of Silence that told many secrets of the heart to the +supersensitive finger-tips that always rested on the +wrist when he shook hands.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then that puts it right up to the chauffeur, +whom the police arrested,” admitted MacLaren. +“But I can’t see how he did it,” he added.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>Sydney Thames, silent in a corner chair, also +shook his head.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He didn’t!” snapped Colton. “If the police +were forced to use brains instead of feet to hold their +jobs, there wouldn’t be so many fool mistakes made. +They should have arrested the automobile,” he +finished seriously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Before the surprised expression on MacLaren’s +face could be put into words the inner door opened, +and the grave-faced doctor stood before them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Has Mr. Villers’s family been notified?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He won’t die!” There was utter disbelief in +MacLaren’s tone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He will die,” amended the physician quietly. +“His nerve has been keeping his worn-out body +going for years; such an overdose of morphine +could not but be fatal. I have tried to arouse him, +but heroic methods would only result in an instant +stopping of his heart. He will sleep for, perhaps, an +hour more; then he will quietly stop breathing.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God, doctor! That is murder!” MacLaren’s +great body dropped limply into a chair, his face was +white. He had refused to believe, before, that the +master of millions could die. It was impossible. +The wonderful machine could not stop. Now it +was silent, useless.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The doctor was speaking: “There is no doubt +that a heavy dose of morphia is responsible; every +symptom points to it unmistakably, but”—the +physician stroked his Vandyke perplexedly—“I +have been unable to find the spot on his body where +the hypodermic needle entered. I have minutely +examined the chest, the abdomen, the arms, thighs, +even the face. It is puzzling, very.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Villers is still lying on his back?” The +question was put casually by the blind man, whom +the physician had not even noticed.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>“Certainly!” The doctor answered as one +answers a foolish question.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“If you will turn him gently on his side for a +moment you will probably find the broken point +of the hypodermic needle under his shoulder-blade.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“His back—why―⁠―” The physician darted +through the inner door.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The doctor’s going left them silent. MacLaren’s +square shoulders were hunched forward, his eyes +fixed steadily on the closed door. Sydney Thames, +in the big leather chair in the corner, was tense, +rigid. A hundred times he had heard the blind +man, whom he loved, make a statement of this +kind. Never had he known him to be wrong; but +always did he fear that Thornley Colton would +make some terrible mistake in his sureness of +himself. And the sightless problemist smoked his +cigarette calmly, the great, blue circles of eyes fixed +on the ceiling above him. The door opened; the +doctor faced them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The needle had broken under the right shoulder-blade—as +you said.” Doctor Clayton’s keen eyes +bored the blind man with a look of half-suspicion.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The words seemed to arouse MacLaren; he +realized their significance. “How—did—you—know—that?” +Each separate word was a gasp. +“And blind!” The tone of his voice was a demand +for explanation.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I knew it because of my blindness,” explained +the problemist quietly. “We of the darkness must +learn to visualize, mentally, what your eyes accept +unconsciously. We learn to see with our brains, +you see without them. My whole life has been spent +in this development of mental visualization. I +can instantly picture, in my brain, a scene that has +been given me in pieces by my four other senses. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>And that mental picture often goes back to events +that lead up to, and make, the scene.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you mean that you can <em>imagine</em> who +administered the morphine?” asked MacLaren +incredulously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Not at all!” There was just a shade of impatience +in the tone. “I have no clairvoyant +powers. I haven’t the remotest idea of the guilty +persons’ identity—yet. But I knew Mr. Villers; +I knew his habits, just as every man in New York, +and Europe, too, who reads the papers, knows +them. He has probably been given more columns +of newspaper space than any other man who ever +lived. Everything he did was machine-like, never +changing; as sure as the sun and moon. I know +how he sits in an automobile; I know the attention +he attracts. You do, too, but you accepted them +merely as something too obvious for the brain—as +merely a routine report of the eyes. So, when I +felt the unmistakable morphia pulse, an instant’s +thought told me the only possible way it could have +been administered. The trained mind doesn’t have +to take up time with the consideration of innumerable +possibilities; it is trained to the instant +elimination of impossibilities. The back was the +only place it could have been injected.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How? By whom?” They chorused it eagerly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“By the innocent tool of a master mind: Mr. +Villers’s automobile.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The automobile! What do you mean?” +Incredulity, amazement were in the voices of the +excited men.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“During the excitement attending the carrying +of Mr. Villers to his office my fingers were examining +the cushions of the tonneau. The upholstery had +been cut in the crease formed by the two tuft buttons, +about where a man’s back would come. A specially +<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>made hypodermic was inserted, and the cut sewed. +Of course, the crease concealed the stitches. No +one ever used the car but Villers, and every one +knows how he sits in the machine. You heard the +statement of the chauffeur before the police arrested +him. The jolt caused by the girder and the stalled +taxi in front of the Woolworth Building were all +that was needed. If that had not succeeded, the +taxi would have swung in front and caused a +collision. Then the ‘doctor’ would have gotten +right on the job there, as he did here, when the taxi +hurried on ahead to be on hand here. The breaking +of the hypo needle was almost a certainty. It only +required the barest fraction of an instant for the +stuff to enter the body, and the broken needle +would at once destroy the instrument and make +its presence for some time unsuspected by any one +sitting in the car.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How fiendish,” murmured Doctor Clayton, and +the words seemed puerile.</p> + +<p class='c008'>MacLaren shook his head, as if to clear the cobwebs +from his usually alert brain; then he leaped +to his feet, totally unmindful of the dying man in +the next room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Colton, he <em>can’t</em> die! The quarter-billion Chinese +loan must be put through to-day. The new German +bond bid is being held open for us till midnight. +Another twenty-four hours’ delay means that we +lose both. He had all the data, the papers! They +were―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Stolen,” finished Thornley Colton quietly. +“That was the object of the game—as I told you +outside.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I never thought of them!” In MacLaren’s +voice was the strong man’s contrition for an unpardonable +oversight. His teeth snapped together +with the squaring of his jaw as he paced the room +<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>before the silent blind man and the red-cheeked, +black-haired Sydney Thames. Behind the closed +door they could hear the hum of the doctor’s voice, +as he tried vainly to call up the Villers’s up-town +house; though a hundred thousand black-typed +extras were on the street telling of the racing special +train that was bringing the family to the city and +the dying man.</p> + +<p class='c008'>MacLaren made a circuit of the office before he +stopped in front of the blind man, who idly twirled +his cane. The sudden stopping of the machine +that he had thought could not stop had unnerved +him completely, driven every other thought from his +mind. But theft was something he understood. It +meant money. MacLaren, too, was a money machine.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The loss of those papers means millions!” He +was calm now, with the calm of deadly earnestness. +“More than that! The stealing of those data Mr. +Villers had means that the United States will be +frozen out of both the Chinese and German loans. +You know how we had to fight for the chance! +Ours is the only American banking house that could +handle them. All the figures were prepared by Mr. +Villers, and you know his invariable rule to hold +things like this until his last minute of grace. Those +papers must be recovered before midnight! Even +the murder—there seems to be no doubt that it +will be murder—pales into insignificance beside +this, and”—there was a curious catch in his voice—“God +knows I loved John T. Villers. But the +loss of that Chinese loan means that the United +States won’t have a say in the new republic; that +American interests will be crowded out by the +powers who control China financially. Every last +detail was in those papers he was to have ready +to-day. Think of the German loan!” He was +pacing the floor again, talking as he walked. One +<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>money machine had stopped; another must take its +place. “The loss of those papers means a loss of +at least ten millions to us, and American interests +in China and Germany will lose a hundred millions +in the next ten years!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Midnight,” murmured Thornley Colton, as a +sensitive finger-tip touched the crystalless watch in +his pocket. “And it’s now one-fifteen.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Less than eleven hours!” MacLaren fairly +jumped to the telephone on his desk. “The police +must have inducements to hustle!” One hand +lifted the receiver; then he swung round. “<em>You!</em>” +It was almost an accusation as he hurled it at the +blind problemist. “You solved that code-book +theft for us a year ago. I’d forgotten! There isn’t +a minute to lose!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A man is dying in the next room,” reminded +Thornley Colton quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>MacLaren wet his dry lips. “I know.” His voice +was lower, calmer. “But think what it means. +The hugeness of it! A theft of a hundred millions!” +It wasn’t lack of human feeling in MacLaren. He +was a money machine, doing what the man in the +next room would wish done.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man nodded understandingly. “I +came in this morning to see Mr. Villers regarding +his cheque for our Home for Blind Children. We +haven’t received it this year.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“If you can recover those papers I will give you +my personal cheque for a hundred thousand!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I never accept fees,” corrected Colton. “The +solving of mysteries is my recreation. But if you +will continue Mr. Villers’s contributions to the +home―⁠―” His expressive lips finished the sentence +without words.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes! Ten times the amount.” MacLaren was +half out of his chair, staring at the blind man.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>“Thank you. That home means a lot to me.” +The blind man spoke reverently. “Sydney and I +will look into the case after lunch; I am hungry.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hungry? My God!” MacLaren fell back +weakly into the chair. “Don’t you realize that you +have less than eleven hours? Don’t you understand +that every minute of delay may be fatal?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, no,” replied the problemist easily. “It will +be at least several hours before the man who has +the papers finishes his elaborate precautions for +putting the police off his trail. There is no sense +in hurrying after a man who is dodging and doubling +to avoid possible pursuit. When he is convinced +that his trail has been covered he will resume his +normal way. The chased hare can wear out a +hundred dogs that follow his devious windings, and +when they are worn out he returns to the bosom of +his family, contented and serene. That’s where the +ferret gets him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>For a full minute MacLaren stared, as if the blind +man had presented a problem in Euclid which he +could not understand. Then he brushed his sweat-beaded +forehead with a trembling hand. “But the +police didn’t waste an instant,” he protested. +“There are two hundred detectives working now. +They’ve got a minute description of the man.” He +stopped suddenly. “You weren’t even present +when they questioned the chauffeur and the watchman!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The senseless bulldozing of the police always +makes me lose my temper,” confessed Thornley +Colton. “I spoke to the chauffeur for ten minutes +before the detectives arrived. Afterward I preferred +to sit here, where I could smoke a cigarette and use +the telephone.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the police learned that the man who lifted +Mr. Villers from the car was stout, with a full brown +<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>beard, and dressed in light gray,” persisted +MacLaren.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And in this office, alone with my cigarette, I +learned that he was slim and smooth-shaven,” +smiled Thornley Colton, as he rose. “But those are +minor details. He had the nail of his right index +finger broken, and wore a curious thumb ring. +Also, he did not actually place the hypodermic in +the tonneau cushions. That was done by a small, +slightly built man, and a very beautiful woman +who is left-handed.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Without eyes―⁠―” began MacLaren gaspingly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“With my ten eyes.” Thornley Colton held out +his two hands, with their tapering hypersensitive +fingers.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Broadway was a pandemonium of newsboys’ +shouts; Wall Street a murmur of low-voiced +speculation; newspaper offices a buzz of humming +activity. John T. Villers was dead—murdered. +London whispered it solemnly, Paris gesticulated +over it, Berlin gutturaled the news phlegmatically, +Tokyo took it with characteristic lack of characteristics. +Men in tin-roofed cable offices on the +coast of Africa caught the telegraph clicks with +news eagerness instead of curses. The wireless +aerials of a thousand ships filched the story from +the air. The man who had builded the American +empire of money was dead. Would the empire +crumble? Would the world-power of money return +to the seats of the mighty on the other side of the +ocean, where it had been before the money machine +had demanded a hand-grasp on the golden sceptre +the jealous hands of Europe had wielded so long? +The money machines of Paris, London, Berlin +awaited the answer that would be in the Chinese +loan, the German loan—the answer that was in the +pocket of a murderer!</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>And in the quiet dining-room of the old Astor +House Thornley Colton complained to the waiter +of the lack of crust shortening in the apple-pie he +was eating. It was three o’clock.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Across the table Sydney Thames chewed his +cigar nervously and tried to keep his mind on the +“latest” extra he held in his hands. He had read +the life story of John T. Villers, printed under the +great black word: “DEAD!” It was the story +of the poor boy who came to the city, the story of +machine-like habits, of putting through vast deals +only when he had taken the last possible hour to +consider every point, until he became known in +Europe and America as “Last-Minute” Villers.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He read of Johnson, Villers’s personal chauffeur, +who slept alone with his wife and three small children +in the big private garage that was now empty because +the dozen other Villers machines and their drivers +had gone to Bar Harbour with Mrs. Villers and the +two sons. He read of Johnson’s five years of service, +of his exemplary habits, his nights spent at home +with his family; even of his taking his wife and two +larger children to the theatre the night before, +while the baby was cared for by a neighbour. Even +the police admitted that he was innocent, but police-like, +they still held him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The story of finding the curious hypodermic, +surrounded by a strong spring to hold it in place, +caused Sydney to laugh nervously. The police had +not discovered it until reporters, who had interviewed +MacLaren after Thornley Colton had left, +told them of it. Now the search was on for the taxi +which had caused the Villers machine to run over +the girder. And there was no clue! The three +traffic policemen who had seen the whole thing had +neither number nor idea of the machine. It was +red; so were a thousand others. An expert had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>said that the hypodermic of death had been made +abroad, possibly in Germany. And that was all.</p> + +<p class='c008'>But the papers revelled in the details; they gave +inch-typed prominence to the announcement that +MacLaren had offered a huge reward for certain +papers stolen from the unconscious Villers. It was +a big story; the biggest story of the most daring +crime New York had ever known.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Yes, Sydney read, and re-read, until the inch +paragraph in the lower left-hand corner regarding +the activities of a band of international smugglers +was a relief. On any other day that story would +have been given prominence, to-day it was only +a filler. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, +then his eyes turned toward the blind man, in them +a look of appeal for hurry.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nervous, Sydney?” smiled Thornley Colton +over the top of his glass of milk.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames flushed, as he usually did when this man, +who had picked him up as a bundle of baby-clothes +on the banks of the English river that had given +him the only surname he had ever known, read his +thoughts.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It is five minutes past three,” he murmured +apologetically.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And we haven’t done a thing,” finished Colton, +the smile still on his thin, expressive lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But this is so big; the consequences―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you expect the success of this murder to +pave the way for others?” interjected Thornley +Colton mildly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I wasn’t thinking―⁠―” Sydney stopped +suddenly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Of the murder.” The problemist again finished +the sentence for him. “You were thinking of the +stolen data. So are a million others.” The smile +was cynical, now. “What a pitiful thing a human +<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>life is, compared to a few millions. No one thinks +of Villers’s death as the death of a man. It is merely +the stopping of a machine with its work unfinished.” +He took a bill from his fold and laid it beside his +plate. “Come, then; I’ll get busy.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“To the Villers garage?” asked Thames eagerly. +“There should be countless clues, for you, leading +to the persons who placed the hypodermic.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“All superfluous,” declared Thornley Colton, +with a slight wave of the thin, hollow stick he +always carried. “Following a multitude of unimportant +clues is police work. We are going to the +office of the Manhattan Tug and Lighterage Company; +yesterday was quite foggy. Remember?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What―⁠―” began Sydney amazedly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton interrupted. “The same?” +he asked quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames choked back the words and +glanced over the dining-room. His brain, trained +for years to count steps for the man who could +not see, and who refused a guiding arm, calculated +rapidly. “The waiter is serving the table twelve +steps straight. Turn eleven, four right, and seven +to the door, left.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A nod, and the blind man hurried forward confidently +with long, swinging strides, the hollow cane +dangling idly from his fingers. Sydney followed, +and, at the door, he stepped beside Colton. The +slight touch of his sleeve on the sightless man’s arm +guided him to a taxi-cab. It was not until the +directions had been given, and they were on their +way toward the Battery, that Thornley Colton spoke.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The Manhattan Tug and Lighterage Company +got a whole lot of free publicity a few weeks ago in +connection with that rescue at sea of the Oldwell +private yacht by one of their big sea-going tugs +that happened to be near. Recollect?”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>“Yes,” admitted Thames, puzzled. “But what +has that to do with it?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nothing, except that the story went the rounds, +and the name would naturally occur to any one +who needed a sea-going tug. I have an idea that +the fog of yesterday caused several persons a whole +lot of anxiety. Ah, here we are.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Dazedly Sydney Thames followed the blind man +to the side-walk. What had a sea-going tug to do +with a robbery on Wall Street? What had the fog +of yesterday to do with the murder of to-day? +But Sydney knew the uselessness of the eager +questions that were in his mind. The problemist +would tell him, all in good time. So, silently, +he fell in beside Thornley Colton, and guided him +into the offices with the slight touch of his +sleeve.</p> + +<p class='c008'>President M‘Inness was the man Colton asked +for, and they were shown into the private office +immediately.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Glad to see you, Mr. Colton; glad to see you!” +boomed the wide-shouldered, rugged-faced man, as +he took the other’s fingers in his vice-like grip. +“What is it this time; smugglers again? They +say a new gang’s workin’. They’re even watching +my boats.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton shook his head, for answer to +that last. Then he came right to the point.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You got a wireless from the <i>Moravia</i>, early +yesterday morning, to take a passenger off at +Quarantine, and rush him to New York.” It was +not a question; it was a simple statement of a +known fact.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Sure,” admitted M‘Inness. “Then the Lord +stepped in and brushed away the fog at midnight, +and the <i>Moravia</i> docked at eight o’clock this +morning.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>“Can you give us the name that was on the +wireless?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Sure. I guess you’ve heard it often enough. +Percy Vanderpoole.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames could not repress a gasp of +surprise; but Thornley Colton’s tone was merely +casual as he said:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Dreyfus MacLaren’s nephew?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s him. He’s got about nine million dollars, +you know, and he’s certainly been making it fly +in the four years since he left college. Hasn’t +brains enough to get in out of the rain, either.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Um!” Thornley rolled the hollow stick +between his fingers absently. “Nothing else in the +wireless, I suppose?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nope. Just wanted a tug if the <i>Moravia</i> was +held up after two o’clock. Wasn’t. The fog lifted, +she docked, and we lost two hundred dollars.” +The sentence ended in a wry smile.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“From what I’ve heard of Vanderpoole, and from +what I know of him, I should think he’d have taken +that tug anyway, and hang the expense.” The +blind man rose. “He must have been taking some +one’s advice,” he finished.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Be the first time he ever did, then, according +to the papers,” grunted M‘Inness. “Accordin’ to +them I’ve seen, he has a bug for giving fool dinners.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So I’ve heard,” murmured Colton, backing +toward the door.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ain’t any use asking your game, I guess?” +grinned the amiable Mr. M‘Inness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You’ll probably read about it in the morning +papers,” smiled Colton. Then he hurried out, his +brain automatically counting the steps it had +registered as he entered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>On the side-walk outside, Sydney allowed his +thoughts to find expression in two words:</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>“Great Scott!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It was a surprise,” admitted the problemist. +“It means a total change of plans. Take me to a +telephone.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>There was one at hand in the corridor of a big +office building. For nearly half an hour Colton +telephoned, while Sydney waited outside the closed +booth vainly trying to understand this new complication. +What connection had the nephew of the +man who had offered them a hundred thousand +dollars for the recovery of the papers with their +theft, and with the murder of John T. Villers?</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton emerged from the booth, a smile of triumph +on his thin lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Now a jewellery store, Sydney,” he said crisply. +“I want to buy a cheap, unset diamond.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A diamond?” echoed Thames blankly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Exactly. I’ve just accepted an invitation for +you and me and MacLaren to a little dinner aboard +Percy Vanderpoole’s yacht this evening. I’m going +to see if a diamond really has the wonderful power +of suggestion so often attributed to it.”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>II.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>The Fee’s eyes sparkled with delight as he listened. +When Thornley Colton had finished, queer gurgling +noises of joy issued from the boy’s throat before +the words came:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Jumpin’ Jiminy, Mr. Colton! A motor boat at +night an’ a disguise. That’s <em>real</em> detective work!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man’s lips framed a whimsical smile as +he gazed down at the red-haired, freckled-faced +youth, with the slightly twisted nose, who had +become a member of the Colton household as the +result of a particularly baffling murder case, for +which he had been the only fee.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>“A whole lot depends on you, Shrimp,” said +Thornley Colton seriously. “Michael will go with +you, but your part will have to be done all alone. +I don’t think you will be in any personal danger; +if I did I wouldn’t let you go.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Some of the joyous light went from the boy’s +eyes. “Chee! I wisht there was goin’ t’ be some +real gun play,” he sighed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You have a long life before you,” laughed +Colton. “Hurry now; here comes Sydney.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>As his secretary entered he turned to face him. +“Your foolish fear of women is not going to spoil +it, Sydney?” he asked amusedly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No!” Sydney answered with the gruffness +that was always in his voice when this subject was +brought up. Sydney’s fear of woman was really +adoration. All women, to him, were angels; his +fear was that he would fall in love with one—and +he was nameless, a bundle of rags, abandoned on the +banks of the Thames in London. This was constantly +in Sydney Thames’s mind.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Here comes MacLaren,” the blind man said +suddenly; a moment later the big, square-jawed +man burst into the room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where are they? Have you got them?” +he gasped, the top-coat, flung over his arm, dragging +on the floor.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your coat will need the services of a dozen +brushers in a short while,” murmured Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Damn the coat!” flared MacLaren, flinging +it on to the library desk. “I’ve walked forty miles, +in that office of mine, this afternoon. Every reporter +in the world has baited me. I’ve had a very devil +of a time getting here without them on my trail. +Our code messages from Europe say the financiers +are grinning up their sleeves at us. They know! +And all the word I get from you is to be here at +<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>seven o’clock, and you’d show me where the papers +were.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I said I’d get the papers, and show you where the +murderers were,” corrected Colton mildly. “I have +an old-fashioned idea of the value of human life.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. Certainly,” choked MacLaren. The hours +of inaction had done their work.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We have a dinner engagement at eight,” went +on Colton smoothly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Dinner!” exploded the square-jawed man. +“My God, man! You―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Exactly.” The voice of the blind man held a +new tone now; a steel-like timbre that Sydney +Thames instantly recognized. “I am taking you +to that dinner to get your mind off the terrible +events of this afternoon. Nothing else!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where is the dinner?” The meekness of the +big man was almost ludicrous.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“On the yacht of your nephew, Percy Vanderpoole.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That fool!” There was acridity in the voice +this time.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He has that reputation.” Sydney Thames +thought the tone dry. “He is giving what he calls +a wireless dinner on his yacht, anchored off the +Metropolis Yacht Club. All the arrangements were +made, and the invitations sent out from the <i>Moravia</i>, +by wireless. You know Percy has quite a reputation +for unique affairs of this kind. I called him up this +afternoon regarding some other matter, and he +insisted that I come. I sought an invitation for you, +and I got it. Several men who were friends on the +way over are included.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“All right,” agreed MacLaren gloweringly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We’ll go to the club in your car,” was all +Thornley Colton said, as he led the way from the +room.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>Vanderpoole’s guests were all awaiting their +appearance, and introductions were hurried through. +There was a gushy, black-haired Miss Clements, who +was paired with an anæmic, slightly-built American; +a tall, stout German, who answered the name of +Von Wagnen, with pale cheeks, and chin that +contrasted strangely with his ruddy forehead; a +dissipated-looking Englishman named Brookes; +several feminine nonentities, and one or two of +Percy’s male society friends. It was a mixed party, +characteristic of the money-flinging Percy Vanderpoole.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The hurry was in honour of the military-looking +Count d’Auboi whom Percy had met in Europe two +years before, with his charming wife, the countess. +The count had been aboard the <i>Moravia</i>. So had +the countess, though Percy chaffed her for taking +her cabin before he even knew she was aboard, and +staying there the whole time. Her cheeks were +colourless, but her eyes shone, despite the fearful +ordeal of seasickness she now laughed over. And +there was the great joke of the count, who +confessed that he had never been in America, losing +Percy on the pier, and wandering around the city +for several hours, with his nervous wife, until they +succeeded in locating Percy by telephone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“They finally got to the Waldorf, Lord knows +how,” laughed Percy, as he led the way to the dining-cabin. +“And now they’re going on the midnight +train to Frisco, so we’ll have to hustle this little +affair through.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My seestair, she is married there,” smiled the +count, in his broken English. Then, with entire +disregard of connection: “An’ I even mees my +brodair-in-law, Mr. Clauson”—he indicated the +anæmic-looking American—“who come to meet +us.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>Sydney took his seat, almost tremulously between +the Countess d’Auboi and the vivacious Miss +Clements, at the table in the mahogany-finished +cabin. But in a few minutes he was surprised and +delighted to find that his foolish fear of the sex +was being driven away like mist before the sunshine +of the charming countess’s conversation. Miss +Clements, at his left, chattered away at a mad rate +to Clauson, and did not bother him. But the +countess, her wonderful voice surcharged with +sympathy and the intuitive understanding of +women, drew him from his shell immediately.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Across the table the blind man chatted with +Count d’Auboi, who was even more charming, if +possible, than his wife. At the head of the table +Percy laughed uproariously at the dissipated-looking +Englishman’s account of his first pigsticking +in India. At the foot, MacLaren glowered in silence, +utterly ignoring the sullen-looking German and the +yellow-haired woman who was his partner. The +dissipated Englishman and the German were cabin +friends Percy had met on the <i>Moravia</i>. They had both +been interesting, and that was all Percy ever asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>During a lull in the conversation Percy happened +to glance at the face of the German, who had +relapsed into sullen silence after repeated attempts +to get a word from MacLaren.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Any one would think you’d committed a crime, +Von Wagnen,” he laughed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man was the only one who did not see +the blood mount to the strangely pale cheeks of the +Teuton; but MacLaren was the only one who +caught the lighting eye signal from the Englishman. +His own eyes narrowed cunningly. This was no +mere dinner engagement!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But what a horrible crime the murder of Mr. +Villers was!” gushed Miss Clements, with a shiver.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>“By Jove!” The ejaculation came from Percy +Vanderpoole. “You used to be quite clever at +solving mysteries, Mr. Colton. Why don’t you get +on this one?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>MacLaren cursed under his breath. Sydney +Thames could not keep the startled look from his +eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You are a detective, Mr. Colton?” The +countess asked it almost accusingly, the charming +touch of accent in her voice giving it a subtle undercurrent +of laughter.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton’s thin lips smiled back at her. +“I do a little in that line,” he admitted.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Tell us about eet.” It was the count at his side, +eyes eager with interest.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My cases are only simple little affairs, +naturally,” deprecated the blind man. He thrust +two fingers into his waistcoat pocket. “Here is +something that I expect to solve a mystery for me.” +He held a small, glittering diamond on his outstretched +palm. MacLaren’s keen ears caught the +sharp intake of breath of the German at his side. +“Yes,” continued the problemist. “That came +from the thumb ring of a pickpocket, torn from the +prongs by the lining of his victim’s coat.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“An’ he deed not know eet—what a joke!” +laughed the count, picking up the diamond from +the extended palm, more closely to examine the +stone. The light from the shaded incandescents +above reflected in the four small rubies that formed +the eyes of the twisted snake ring he wore on his +thumb.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The sullen-looking German had apparently recovered +his nerve. MacLaren looked puzzled.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Let’s see it; I know a bit about the bally +things.” The Englishman took the stone from the +count. “There’s a flaw in it as big as a shilling!” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>he announced, with the disgust of an expert. Again +MacLaren caught the signal of eyes to the German +beside him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Dere iss few goot stones,” announced the +Teuton ponderously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ple-ese tell us about it?” pleaded the countess.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, do, please do,” pouted Miss Clements, as +if to forestall a refusal. The request was chorused +by the others.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It really isn’t worth it,” protested Colton; +then he seemed to know, for the first time, that the +Englishman held the stone for him to take back. +“Thank you,” he smiled, as he replaced it carefully +in his pocket. “I was afraid some one would +switch off the lights and steal it in the darkness +and confusion. By the way, Percy, is that deck-light +switch still where it used to be when your +father was alive?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The same place,” nodded Vanderpoole. “Right +beside the cabin-door, on the after-deck.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“See!” Colton’s laugh was loud, but somehow +it did not seem to ring true. “Any one could +steal the stone in the darkness, and get away +with it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>MacLaren scowled. His quick mind understood +that Colton wanted the location of that switch for +some purpose of his own. And, without eyes, he +must take this method of learning its location. But +he knew that the other guests, too, had recognized +some sinister motive under the palpable affectation +of banter the blind man had assumed. There came +a tenseness there had not been before. And every +one knew the location of the switch that could +plunge the decks into instant darkness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Let’s have the coffee and cigarettes under the +awnings on the after-deck,” suggested Percy, to +cover the break.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>“Let’s,” acquiesced Colton eagerly, then he +paused impressively for an instant. “If you’ll +hurry I’ll tell you something about the Villers +murder. I <em>am</em> working on that case!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Instantly chairs were pushed back as the guests +crowded to the door.</p> + +<p class='c008'>As Sydney rose, the countess found time to +whisper in his ear:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He speaks strangely, your Mr. Colton.” There +was feminine nervousness in her voice. Sydney +nodded dumbly, sick at heart. The blind man he +loved had made a mistake.</p> + +<p class='c008'>MacLaren kept close to the sullen German, utterly +ignoring his yellow-haired dinner partner. The +money machine’s hands were clenched in his pockets, +his shoulders braced for some attack. “A big, +stout man, with a full beard,” was the description +he remembered. The Teuton answered that description +perfectly; the pale cheeks showed where the +beard had been recently shaven. He passed out +to the awninged, dimly-lighted deck, brushing the +coat of the blind man, who stood beside the door, +almost over the small wicker table where the +countess and Sydney had taken their seats with the +brother-in-law of the count and the chatty Miss +Clements.</p> + +<p class='c008'>For several seconds the blind man stood there, +apparently calmly eyeing them. The light of the +switch incandescent shone on his wavy, white hair, +his broad shoulders, his deep chest. The German +moved uneasily. The dissipated-looking Englishman, +who had manœuvred to a seat beside him, +gripped his arm. Every muscle in MacLaren’s body +was tense. The yellow-haired woman and the three +other feminine nonentities bit their lips nervously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames could not repress his own nervousness. +Was the blind man going to accuse desperate +<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>men who had murdered a man and robbed him of +papers worth a hundred millions? No help was +near. The sky was cloudy, the anchorage was +deserted, except for an empty speed boat that rode +at anchor in the silent darkness two hundred yards +away.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Then Thornley Colton spoke quietly, smoothly. +“The story of the diamond is the story of the Villers +murder.” One hand drew out the crystalless watch. +“It is now ten-thirty; at ten-forty-five the police +will search this boat for the papers stolen from the +unconscious man in front of his office!” Men and +women jumped to their feet. “Sit still!” His +hand went above his head. The switch snapped out. +They were in darkness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A chair toppled over. They heard him fumble +with the switch lever. Then, shrill, frightened, +came the voice of a boy:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Let go! Let go! I’m workin’ fer Mister +Colton!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The lights came. Startled men and women saw +a small boy squirming in the grasp of a brawny +man. Sydney Thames knocked over the empty +chair at his right as he leaped to his feet. It was +The Fee, caught, and in his hand was a black bag.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s the papers!” yelled The Fee.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames knew instantly the reason for that sudden +darkness. It was Colton’s plan—and an ignorant +deck hand had ruined it!</p> + +<p class='c008'>But almost in a bound Thornley Colton was at +the boy’s side. He tore the man’s hands from his +arm, with fingers like steel.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s all right, Mike; start ’er!” screamed the +freckle-faced boy.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Under their very feet, seemingly, came the bark +of a gasoline engine.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Stand back!” ordered Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>Dumbly, as if dazed, they obeyed. The boy stood +alone at the rail. Below him the motor boat coughed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Dreyfus MacLaren jumped forward to take the +bag. A clenched fist sent him sprawling. A hand +tore the bag from the boy’s hand. A black automatic +swept before the circle of white faces. Behind +it was Count d’Auboi, lips drawn back in a snarl.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I take it!” The snarling smoothness went out +of the voice; it rose to a yell: “<em>Jean!</em>”</p> + +<p class='c008'>At the signal the darkness again shut down on +them. They stood huddled together before the +menacing automatic they could not see.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A move, I shoot into ze crowd, a woman, maybe,” +came the flint-like voice of the count before them. +Somewhere behind them came the sounds of a short +scuffle, a snarled oath. A man leaped to the rail. +A splash sounded below; then a hoarse order in +French.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“’Nette!” snapped the count. There was no +response. Again came that hoarse voice from the +water. A scrambling shadow over the rail. The +motor boat leaped away from the side.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Out of the darkness came the piercing call of a +police whistle. Across the black waters a broad +beam of dazzling white shot out—picked up the +boat—held it. Men were running on the decks of +the speed craft two hundred yards away. It fairly +leaped in pursuit of the smaller boat.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The white searchlight brought out the escaping +boat with startling vividness. The two men crouched +over the wheel. The black bag was on the seat +beside them. A line of fire shot from the pursuing +boat. Another. The small engine went dead. +The space was closing now—fifty yards—twenty—the +searchlight still held like a calcium.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The stupefied watchers on the yacht saw the +count stand up in the boat; saw him look wildly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>around. He stooped, picked up the black satchel, +and flung it far out into the water. In the bright +glare they could see his very teeth bared in a snarling +smile as he waited. The ripples gleamed in an ever-widening +circle where the satchel had sunk.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nervy devil, isn’t he?” It was the cool voice +of Thornley Colton. For the first time the watchers +realized that the lights were on again; that they +had been actors in reality, not wraiths in a +dream.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Dreyfus MacLaren was first to recover, and as he +raised his voice it had in it the strong man’s sob:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God! The data!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The charming Countess Annette is sitting on +them,” smiled Thornley Colton. “I couldn’t bear +exposing her to police shots. She is handcuffed to +her chair.”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>III.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>“Yes, Sydney, the police can’t be beaten when it +comes to making arrests. Find the guilty ones, +label them, lead them up to the police, and the +cops’ll get them every time. And the police dearly +love a plant, that’s why they worked so well to-night. +You see, I made all the arrangements this afternoon +when you had left me in disgust to walk off your +nervousness. The telephone is a mighty handy thing +for the blind.” He took a sip of the vichy at his +elbow, and touched the crystalless watch lying on +the old-fashioned library table before him. It was +twelve-thirty.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But how—where?” Sydney Thames changed +it to a confession. “I am still dazed.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I suppose you’ll have to have it all,” smiled +Colton. “All right. Ten minutes’ intelligent conversation +with the chauffeur before the fool +detectives arrived gave me practically all of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>information I needed. He told me of the theatre +party with his wife and two eldest children. I +was interested because they went to a famous +Broadway children’s show, where the seat prices +are high. The tickets had been given his wife by +a rich woman who devoted her time to showing +mothers how to care for their babies, and had taken +an interest in his own. Of course, that told me +immediately how the chauffeur had been gotten +away while the car was fixed. Through his wife +and tots was the only way he could be reached.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then I wanted to know if there was a good, +quiet hotel near by. The woman must have taken +quarters near his home to be on the watch for the +opportunity to get acquainted with his wife and +children. They are fairly well-to-do, and would +resent the professional interference of a settlement +worker. There was. A telephone call from MacLaren’s +office while you and the others were outside +with the police—with the description the chauffeur +had given me—fixed her as a Mrs. Allen, a widow, +who was spending her money and time on poor +babies. She had been there two weeks. She wasn’t +in when I called, but would be in the morning. See +how clever. Not a breath of suspicion by telling +them that she was going to leave. Did she have a +habit of calling a special taxi? She did, from the +Nelson House. It was easy to get a description of +the chauffeur from the starter there. The calls had +been made without any attempt at concealment; +for who would connect a settlement worker in New +York with the wife of a French count? The +chauffeur had been employed a week. He was +undoubtedly an American. The woman was French, +though she spoke English perfectly. See how simple +the possibilities are when the foolish impossibilities +the police delight in are eliminated?</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>“Then the chauffeur’s recollection of the bearded +man who had lifted Villers out of the car; his stilted +way of speaking. I knew then that he, too, was a +Frenchman, trying to hide it by repeating, slowly +and carefully, without his usual accent, words he +had learned by rote. Where had he been while +the other two were making the arrangements? A +man with the brains and knowledge to plan a crime +like that couldn’t be common enough, even in +appearance, to hide successfully for two weeks. I +remembered the <i>Moravia</i>, due from Havre last night. +What could be a greater alibi than that of a man +who had been in the city but a few hours? But +the fog must have caused him considerable anxiety. +That’s why I went to see M‘Inness. I knew the +name of the Manhattan Tug and Lighterage Company +would still be in everybody’s mind. You know +that Percy stepped in and sent that message on his +own hook—at a hint from the count, of course, who +was quick to see that that would cover his last +possible connection. When I got him on the phone +I learned of the count and his wife for the first time. +Then I realized how infernally clever they were, and +knew I’d have to act accordingly. The Englishman +and the German also entered to complicate affairs. +I didn’t know whether they were in it or not.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the description you gave in MacLaren’s +office,” interrupted Sydney. “It was wholly at +variance with that of every one who had seen him. +And the left-handed woman who placed the hypodermic?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton laughed. “The first came from knowledge +of human nature. If he was stout and full-bearded +when he exposed himself before the eyes of several +hundred persons, it was a moral certainty that he +was neither, with the disguise off. He’d absolutely +reverse it when he stepped into the taxi that was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>waiting around the corner after it had let him off +in time to get the papers. The stitches in the +cushions told me the other. They were too fine +to have been made by a man. My fingers showed +me that the needle had been thrust upward, instead +of downward, as would have been the case with a +right-handed person.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the actual robbery?” insisted Sydney. “The +man with the broken finger-nail? I paid particular +attention at the dinner. All seemed perfect.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You are learning to observe,” smiled the blind +man. “When my fingers brushed the coat-lining +of the unconscious man they felt the torn threads +of the caught finger-nail as it swept upward when +he thrust his hand under the coat for the thick +packet of papers. But the packet was evidently +wedged, in some way, for it was necessary for him +to thrust his whole hand down into the pocket. +His thumb ring tore the lining slightly at the corner. +These things could not be seen with the naked eye, +but they could be felt with fingers trained to read +handwriting by touching the reverse side of the +paper, and feeling the indentations of the pencil.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney nodded understandingly. “Now if you’ll +explain the diamond, and The Fee’s entrance?” +he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Suggestion. Psychology,” declared Thornley +Colton seriously. “The diamond held on my palm +was primarily intended to find the man whose +broken finger-nail had pulled the threads from the +coat lining. Held on my palm, the man who picked +it up must touch my flesh with his finger-nail. The +count’s was cut to the quick; that of his thumb +was long and tapering. Then the Englishman +wanted to see it. I knew he wasn’t the man, therefore +I caused the stampede to the after-deck with +the promise of telling about the Villers murder to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>find out what he and his German friend really were. +A quick touch in the crowd, as they came through +the door, felt the heavy belt around the German’s +waist. Smugglers!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That was easy, merely an incident in the case. +But the police seemed glad to get them. They were +part of the long-sought band. So we’ll dismiss them. +But their presence shows further cleverness on the +part of the wily count in including them to divert +suspicion if it became necessary. He probably +knew their game, and would have used it to cover +his, if he had to.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My talk of the thumb-ringed pickpocket was +intended to make the count suspicious of me. My +reference to the light switch and the darkness were +for the sole purpose of showing him how he could +escape if it came to a show-down. My idiotic +attempt to cover up what he, and others, supposed +to be the only means I had of locating that switch +was not intended to deceive them; it was intended +to make them understand that I thought I was +deceiving them. I knew the papers must be somewhere +near; they planned to get away at midnight. +But I couldn’t take a chance of arresting them, and +then searching; for men clever enough to steal +those papers would be clever enough to put them +where no one could get them. Therefore the talk +of the police search and the pulling of the switch +to put out the lights.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“By that time they understood that the only +thing they could do was get away. I’d stood +watching them in silence long enough to let them +see that the anchorage was deserted, and that they +had a pretty fair chance of escaping. When the +darkness came I knew one of them would take instant +advantage of it, and get the papers if they weren’t +already on his person. You didn’t give a thought +<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>to Clauson’s being absent when you toppled over +his empty chair, as you saw The Fee with that fake +bag bait. I did, and I knew the count would look +at that bag as I intended he should. He wasn’t +given an opportunity to see that Clauson had gone. +He was told of the ready boat, given an opportunity +to grab the bag from the boy’s hand. He called +‘Jean’ as a signal for Clauson to put out the lights. +Jean wasn’t there, but the quick-witted countess +was. Jean, of course, heard that call, and came +running. I met him at the cabin-door, held him +long enough to get the packet from his inside pocket. +It was easy, for”—a whimsical-smile came to the +thin lips—“I am quite at home in the darkness. +It was done so quickly that the frightened Jean +hardly knew it, I guess, and, of course, the count +supposed the boy had gotten the data for me. Then +the police stepped in, and we saw the spectacular +play of the greatest crook I ever had the pleasure +of meeting, while the countess struggled on the +chair to escape. I’d put the papers under her for +safe-keeping, and also because they wouldn’t go +in my dinner-coat pocket.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then,” puzzled Sydney, “the doctor who first +attended Villers was—this count! But I can’t see +why—he needed his bag?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because he was a mighty clever man. He knew +it would be easy to take a thick packet of papers +from Villers’s pocket without being seen, but he also +knew that it would be almost impossible to slip +them into his own unobserved. Therefore the open +doctor’s bag at his feet, where they could be dropped +in an instant.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Papers worth a hundred million,” murmured +Sydney Thames, almost in awe.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And costing a single, human life,” digressed +Thornley Colton wearily.</p> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span><a id='PROBLEM-FOURTH'></a></p> +<div> + <h2 class='c005'><span class="problem-a">THE FOURTH PROBLEM</span> <br> <br> <span class="problem-b">THE FLYING DEATH</span></h2> +</div> + +<h3 class='c009'>I.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>The last sobbing notes of the violin died away. +Slowly, reverently, the girl lowered the bow and +lifted her chin; the throat-filling hush wrought by +the conjuring of her music became wild, unrestrained +applause as the spell broke. The beating surges of +sound from the gallery, the balcony, the floor +seemed to frighten her a little; the frail body in its +simple white frock shrank before it; but the girlish +lips smiled bravely as she bowed her way to the +wings.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Clamorous, insistent, the applause continued. +She reappeared; silence came as she lifted the +violin to her chin. The lilting fantasy of a folk-song +rollicked from under the dancing bow. Once +more came the enthusiastic outburst when she +finished. She gestured her thanks, smiled an +instant at the upper right-hand box, laughed and +kissed her hand to the lone occupant of lower left +and ran from the stage.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Sheer genius, Sydney!” murmured Thornley +Colton, in expression of the reverence good music +always aroused in him; for music, to the blind +man, held all the pleasures that painting, sculpture, +and beautiful architecture hold for those whom God +has given sight. Now his whole face, from the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>high forehead to the lean, cleft chin, was alight; +even the sightless eyes seemed to shine behind the +great blue circles of the smoked-glass, tortoise-shell-rimmed +library spectacles that accentuated the +striking whiteness of his face and hair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Wonderful!” breathlessly agreed the red-cheeked, +black-haired Sydney Thames, secretary +and constant companion of the blind man.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It makes my woids muss up when I try to talk,” +gulped The Fee, freckle-faced, red-haired, blue-eyed +boy, who had become a member of the Colton +household at the conclusion of a particularly baffling +murder case. Thornley Colton laughed softly and +pushed back his chair. Then real alarm came to +the boy’s voice. “Gee, yuh ain’t goin’ now?” +he pleaded. “They’s a coupla comedy acr’bats an’ +a wop knife t’rower yet!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We’ll wait,” promised Colton, as he made room +for a pale-faced young man who had just risen to +hurry past him and out of the box.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The problemist moved his chair farther back, and +whispered to Sydney. “Our friend who just left +seems to be troubled with a mighty bad case of +nerves,” he observed. “My cane could feel his chair +trembling under him the whole time the girl was +playing. He seemed to jump a foot when she left +the stage that last time, and he’s been muttering +under his breath ever since. What happened?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’d say he was wildly in love with her, and +madly jealous of some one else,” accounted Sydney. +“She smiled up at him an instant after that last +encore, but she immediately turned and kissed her +hand to the man in the lower left-hand box. If +ever black rage shone in a man’s face it was on that +of our neighbour. He isn’t more than twenty-two +or three, and he doesn’t look as if he had ever +learned to curb a nasty temper.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>“He left as if he were going in search of some +one’s heart blood,” smiled the blind man, leaning +back in his chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>One of the comedy acrobats had just succeeded in +pushing the other from a high table, and was +joyously dancing on his rubber stomach, to the +great delight of The Fee, and some fourteen or +fifteen hundred others.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You don’t happen to know the occupant of +lower left?” asked Colton. Somehow the thought +of sordid jealousy of two men, and a girl whose +witchery could produce such music, seemed to jar.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney gazed covertly down at the occupant of +lower left. He was a big-bodied man, and fat. +There were fleshy pouches of good living and bad +drinking under his eyes; but no dissipation could +hide the iron will, the dominant arrogance the +heavy chin showed. He sat back in the deep box, +the black of his evening clothes verging into the +black of the heavy velvet hangings that covered the +wall behind him. The white expanse of shirt front +contrasted strikingly with the sombre background; +one white fist rested on the back of a gold chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s James P. Cartwright, the theatrical +manager!” returned Sydney suddenly. “Her +manager!” he supplemented in sudden anger as +he compared the innocent girlishness of the violinist +and the coarse grossness of the recognized man in +the box. Sydney Thames deified all women from +afar, for he had forbidden himself the joys of propinquity, +because he could never forget that he had +no name but that of the English river on the banks +of which Thornley Colton had found him, a bundle +of dirty baby-clothes, years before.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Cartwright has an unenviable reputation among +his women of the stage,” muttered Colton. The +smile was gone from the thin, expressive lips now. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>The rocking notes of the fantastic folk-song still +haunted him; the sobbing cadence of the piece she +had played before was in his mind: an omen of +tragedy. A soul that could conjure music like that—and +a Cartwright who, gossip said, demanded his +price for others’ success!</p> + +<p class='c008'>The two comedy acrobats had disinterred themselves +from an avalanche of chairs and a table; +the first to his feet had been promptly knocked down +by the other, and dragged off the stage by his heels, +while The Fee and a few hundred others shouted +and clapped their approval. A card announced +Signor Delvetoi and his marvellous whirling knives.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney, watching the occupant of the lower left, +saw him take out a big watch impatiently, lean +ponderously back in a chair, and summon an usher. +The uniformed man came, listened a moment, +nodded, and opened the door at the stage end of the +box, to reappear a moment later and whisper his +message, or news. Cartwright nodded, and turned +his attention idly toward the stage, where the signor +sent a whirling knife toward the high boards before +which his yellow-haired partner had set a red apple +swinging on a long string. The knife point thudded +into the wood; the cut string parted, and the apple +rolled to the stage floor.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Gee, that’s some stunt!” ecstatically exclaimed +The Fee, as he enthusiastically described the feat +of the black-bearded signor to Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A handful of playing cards flurried before the +wooden stop. Three whirling knives shot across the +whole length of the stage; three cards were pinned +fast, and the assistant held them up triumphantly +to show the pierced ace spots.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Cartwright inclined his head in a nod of grudging +approval, then turned quickly as he heard the door +that led back to the stage open. Sydney saw the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>girl who had played appear in her street clothes, a +simple white shirt waist and dark skirt, her coat +thrown over her arm. He gritted his teeth at the +greeting she gave the theatrical manager, and as he +saw the flush of happiness on the winsome face, +while the thick lips of the man grinned as he took +her coat. Cartwright jerked his thumb toward the +stage where the dexterous signor had just succeeded +in planting five knives in a black spot not bigger +than a half dollar.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He pulled his chair close to that of the girl, and +they sat talking; the girl with many pretty, unconscious +gestures, the man listening, with a jerky nod +now and then. They were in the rear of the box, +not three feet from the heavy velvet hangings that +covered the wall back of them. They could not be +seen from the body of the theatre, but from the +upper box opposite, where Sydney sat, everything +in their box was visible.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney interrupted The Fee’s excited description +of the signor’s act long enough to tell the news to +Colton; and he made no excuse for his spying. +The blind man nodded grimly, and continued his +patient listening to The Fee, who was having the +time of his young life. The signor, in his suit of +black silk and his black, pointed beard, had performed +miracles with the whirling knives. Now the +boy waited breathlessly for this last feat, because +the soft music of the orchestra told him it would +be the best of all. A huge frame was being lowered +from the flies. The blond assistant stepped to the +small shelf, thrust her hands through the leather +loops, and stood against the golden back, arms +spread wide, feet apart. The signor brought his +table of glittering knives to the footlights; the +frame and the assistant swung aloft. The lights +went out. Darkness for a few brief seconds, then +<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>the calcium from the balcony outlined the suspended +woman and the gold background.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ah!” The Fee’s gasp swelled a thousand +others, as the knife shot into the calcium beam from +the darkness below, whirled with a thousand silver +fires, and buried its point in the wood, blade grazing +the cheek of the woman. A few seconds of breathless +suspense, and another followed, to graze the +ear. Even Sydney forgot the man and girl in the +box as he watched the whirling blades. The weirdness +of the thing held him fascinated; the knives, +hurled from the hands of the man who was invisible +in the darkness below the single light beam, pinwheeled +through the light to find their place +unerringly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Then something caused Sydney Thames to turn +his eyes again to the lower box. At the instant a +flash of lurid light leaped from the darkness, silhouetting +with startling vividness the seated man +and girl. The roar of a pistol came to his ears; +and while the light cut the darkness he saw behind +the seated man and girl the face of the youth who +had been in the box with them; the man whose +jealousy had been shown so plainly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Pandemonium followed instantly. A chair +crashed over in the darkness across the theatre; +clear above the cries of the panic-stricken men and +women came the scream of a man:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God! I didn’t do it! I didn’t! I didn’t!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The scream stopped. “Lights!” frenziedly +called some one from the darkness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>They came. In the box opposite, Sydney Thames +saw Cartwright struggling with the man whose face +he had seen so distinctly in the pistol’s flash. On +the floor of the box, face downward, was the girl +of the violin. Between her shoulders, on the white +shirt waist, was a widening splotch of crimson.</p> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span> + <h3 class='c009'>II.</h3> +</div> + +<p class='c010'>The girl was dead. The white-coated ambulance +surgeon who examined her had shaken his head, +and refused to take her in the ambulance. The +morgue waggon had taken the body but a short +time after the police reserves had beaten their way +through a mob of thousands to arrest the white-faced, +hysterical prisoner, who cried his innocence +through lips battered by the fist of Cartwright.</p> + +<p class='c008'>In the precinct station the prisoner had collapsed, +and Cartwright told his story. He had heard a +slight noise, and swung around in his chair. At +that instant came the flash of the pistol behind him. +He heard the man drop it, and he leaped to grapple +with him. Yes, he knew the prisoner; name was +Nelson, a half-baked kid, who had bothered Miss +Reynolds for months. Yes, this was Miss Reynolds’s +first engagement; her first appearance on any +stage. He was her manager. No, nothing else. +Emphatically!</p> + +<p class='c008'>The prisoner, brought around roughly, swore that +he was innocent. He had known Miss Reynolds +for months, they had been friends in Europe. She +had asked him to be present at her first appearance, +and at the end of her act he had gone to meet her +at the stage entrance. It was there that he was +told that she had an engagement with Cartwright. +That this made him wild with jealousy he admitted; +he knew Cartwright by reputation, and Miss +Reynolds was but a girl, innocent, unsophisticated.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He had walked around outside the theatre for +about fifteen minutes, then he had decided to go +to the box and demand an explanation. The +theatre was in darkness for the knife-throwing act, +but he knew his way. His hand had been on the +black velvet hangings when he stopped. And the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>revolver flash had come <em>from the air</em> not a foot +ahead of him. No, he could not explain how the +shot had been fired. No one could have moved from +the spot where the pistol had been, <em>because the +weapon dropped on his toe</em>!</p> + +<p class='c008'>He was taken away to a cell on a charge of +murder.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Cartwright, leaving the station when the last of +the curious crowd had drifted away, seemed to have +aged ten years since the tragedy. He was haggard, +the grim, hard smile that had been characteristic +was gone, his big hands trembled. He tried in vain +to get permission to remove the girl’s body from the +morgue immediately. But the law demanded that +the coroner see it first; and the official was out of +town.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Cartwright remembered his political friends. He +tried to locate a dozen over the telephone and failed. +Then, by chance, he met the one man in the city +who could help him; the one man among the four +millions whom he could trust: Theodore Rogers, +the theatrical lawyer, a friend for thirty years.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He tried to tell Rogers what he wanted, but his +nervousness made his words a jumble.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What is it, Jim? What’s the trouble?” +Rogers shook him, and he looked into his eyes +anxiously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Cartwright told him of the shooting. “And, by +God, Ted!” he finished passionately. “I won’t +rest a minute till I see that devil in the electric +chair! God! To kill a girl like that!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The lawyer looked at him curiously. This was +not the cool, suave Cartwright he had known so +long.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Cartwright read the look on the lawyer’s face, +and the thoughts behind it. “Not that! I swear +it’s not that, Ted!” he choked.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>“Come, have a drink,” pleaded Rogers, pulling +him toward the lighted entrance of a rathskeller.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“With that girl on a slab in the morgue?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“One drink,” insisted Rogers. “You are worse +than useless this way. Come!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He dragged Cartwright down the steps. The +clock over the bar said half-past two, and the leather-seated +booths were in darkness. But drinks could +be had. The barman dozed, and the lone waiter +yawned as he carried a tray toward the booths in +the rear. Rogers led the theatrical man to a seat +at the side of the room in front of the bar, ordered +whisky, and waited patiently until Cartwright had +gulped down the liquor.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Now tell me about it, Jim,” demanded Rogers.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Cartwright, as near the end of the leather seat +as he could get, glanced at the dark booths in the +back, then turned and surveyed the front of the +place. The rathskeller was empty, except for the +dozing barman and the waiter, who had gone into +one of the front booths to figure his day’s checks.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Don’t think—what you’ve been thinking about +me and that girl, Ted.” There was almost pathetic +pleading in the manager’s voice; it was pitched so +low that even the lawyer at the other side of the +narrow table could scarcely hear. “She was—a +daughter to me—the daughter of the only woman +I ever loved.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Rogers stared. This from the man Broadway +thought it knew!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Remember twenty years ago?” continued +Cartwright, in that same low, pleading voice. +“The girl I took away from Kelly, that drunken +burlesque magician?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The lawyer nodded, a look of understanding in +his eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You know we loved each other, and we ran +<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>away; she, and I, and the six months’ old kid,” +he went on. “You know how she died: killed in +the C. & O. wreck two hours out of Chicago, two +hours after we started—and the kid under her +body, alive! I guess that’s what woke me up. +All I thought about after that was making money +for the kid. I put her with good people, and I +didn’t tell them who she was, or who I was. When +she got old enough to understand, I adopted her +legally. But she never knew who her father and +mother were. I couldn’t tell her about the drunken +sot that died in the Chicago alcoholic ward. A +thing like that would have spoiled her.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“She was born with music in her. I kept her +away from me and the people that knew me. I +sent her abroad. And to-night was her try-out! +I wanted to see if she could face the lights, because +I wouldn’t have her laughed at by the highbrows +if she couldn’t make good. And she did! God, +how they went wild! I wouldn’t tell a soul that +she was my adopted daughter—until to-morrow. +Now―⁠―” He fingered his whisky glass with +twitching hands.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Theodore Rogers, whose heart was reputed to be +of stone, felt a lump in his throat. He pushed his +gloves from the table, so in bending he would get +the needed instant to hide his feelings. Something +made him jerk up his head! He saw―⁠―</p> + +<p class='c008'>The roar of the pistol in his ears deafened him. +He cried out as the long-barrelled gun recoiled +across the table and struck him, butt foremost, on +the chest. His glass was crashed to a hundred +pieces as the pistol fell on the table before him. +The white shirt front of Cartwright was black, a +small circle of fire glowed in the linen; on his face +was an awful look of horror as his head pitched +forward on his arms.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>And then Rogers understood what his eyes had +first seen; the picture that had lasted but the +hundredth part of a second, perhaps, but which +would be graven on his mind for a lifetime.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He had seen the pistol against Cartwright’s +heart, <em>with nothing to hold it there</em>; the recoil of the +explosion had driven it across the table before it +fell, <em>because no human hand had grasped it; no +finger had pulled the trigger</em>!</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>III.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>In the darkness of his library Thornley Colton +paced back and forth. The cigarette-end glowed +and died as he puffed thoughtfully. Each detail +of the girl’s murder at the theatre, described to him +by the excited Sydney, while panic had raged above +them and below them in the playhouse the night +before, was being visualized by the wonderful brain +that so unerringly found logic in seeming absurdity; +explanation in apparent impossibility—because that +brain had never been tricked by seeing eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The murder of the girl had moved him mightily; +the stilling forever of that wonderful music seemed +more a crime against the world than against an +individual. And as he paced the curtained room +the mosaics of detail became a complete picture, +and he knew—<em>knew</em>—that the man who had left +their box so hurriedly the night before; the man +whom Sydney had <em>seen</em> fire the shot, was guiltless +of the murder!</p> + +<p class='c008'>He turned to face the door as hurried footsteps +proclaimed to his trained, supersensitive ears that +Sydney Thames was approaching.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Cartwright has been murdered!” cried the red-cheeked +secretary breathlessly. “It happened too +late for the morning papers, but The Fee got some +<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>early extras of the evening editions with full +details.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where? How?” asked Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“In an up-town rathskeller. He was shot by +Theodore Rogers, the lawyer.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He was not,” corrected the blind man quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How did you hear of it?” demanded Sydney, +in surprise.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This is the first intimation I had of such a thing, +but your statement was just a little too positive; +your voice told me that <em>you</em> believe Rogers guilty +because of the utter impossibility of the story he +must have given the police.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney flushed. “But his story is crazy, insane!” +he insisted.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Perhaps if I heard it―⁠―” suggested Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Excitedly, with utter disbelief in his voice, Sydney +Thames told of the unheld pistol Rogers swore he +saw; of its firing with no finger near the trigger; +of its recoil, and fall.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Of course the police arrested him,” continued +Sydney. “Cartwright held a lot of Rogers’s paper. +That’s the motive. They’ve got a clear case, as +clear as the one against the love-crazed kid who +shot the violinist.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Just as clear,” echoed Colton slowly. Then: +“But haven’t you withheld the fact that the pistols +used in both murders are exactly alike?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How—did you know—that?” gasped Sydney. +Many times he had heard the blind man make such +amazing statements, but they always startled him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because both crimes were committed by the +same man in the same way!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But Nelson, the kid who shot the girl, was +locked up in a cell,” protested Thames.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Exactly,” admitted the blind man. “But he +killed Cartwright as surely as he murdered the girl.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>It was several seconds before the meaning of that +sentence struck Sydney. “He shot that girl in the +back!” rebelled Thames. “I saw his face over +the flash of the pistol. Even he admits that no one +else could have fired it, because it fell on his toe!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Rogers swears that no one did fire the bullet +which killed Cartwright,” reminded Colton. “And +the pistol fell on the table in front of him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s impossible,” asserted Thames emphatically. +“Some one must have held the gun. Some +one must have pulled the trigger. There can be no +explanation of what he says he saw. The days of +ghosts and black magic have passed.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But not the days of black murder,” retorted +Colton. “There is no black art, ghosts, or hypnotism +in the murders of last night. The method is +unique, that’s all.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He picked up the slim, hollow stick he always +carried. “I’m going to find that murderer,” he +said. “A man who could kill a girl like that is +either a fiend or a hideous blunderer. I think it’s +the latter. Will you call the machine?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The big automobile was always ready for instant +service, day or night, and ten minutes later they +were on their way down town. Beside the driver, +eager-eyed, joyful, was The Fee. Colton had +promised to let him help on the case, and the boy’s +cup of happiness was full. The Fee had but two +heroes: Thornley Colton in real life; Nick Carter +in his favourite fiction.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We’ll go to police head-quarters first,” decided +Colton. “The prisoners will be there this morning, +and I’d like to question Rogers.” Then he got +from Sydney all the details the papers had given of +Cartwright’s murder.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The Fee found a friendly doorman when they +reached police head-quarters and prepared to have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>the time of his life. Colton’s card secured them +grudging admittance to the office of the chief of +detectives. The chief, like his men, had all the +professional’s scorn for the amateur, but he knew +the blind man, with his wide acquaintance with +influential people, was not a person to antagonize. +And the police had found Rogers a different proposition +from the youth whose infatuation had led +him to the dark box and the murder charge. The +lawyer was well known, and his story demanded +respect despite the utter impossibility of the thing +he described. Of course, the barman and the waiter +had been arrested as witnesses, but they had not +seen the actual shooting. The barman had been +dozing, and the waiter had been busy in a front +booth. The shot had aroused them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Going to give us some more pointers?” asked +the chief tolerantly, when he had shaken hands +with Colton and nodded curtly to Sydney.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’d like to look into that double-murder case +a bit,” confessed the problemist, paying no attention +to the tone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You mean the two murders committed last +night,” corrected the chief gruntingly. “Nothing +to ’em. We’ve got the goods on young Nelson. +Twenty people in the three front rows saw him do +it. And Rogers’s fool story is enough to hang any +man.” The real detective’s scorn for the criminal +whose methods are crude came to his voice. “He +might have got away with a suicide story—Cartwright +was all broken up about the girl—but Rogers +swears it wasn’t suicide, because the manager’s +hands were not near the pistol when it was fired. +He says Cartwright’s look was one of horror, as if +he’d seen his end coming, and couldn’t get away +from it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He did see his death coming,” put in Colton +<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>quietly; “and I think that during the last instant +he lived he realized at whose hand it came.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You think he got wise to Rogers at the end, +eh?” guessed the chief.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No!” The negative was sharp. “Rogers had +no more to do with the murder than you or I. +Cartwright was killed by a man who had been +planning the murder for years; the death of the +girl was a terrible mistake.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief jumped from his chair. “What do you +know?” he demanded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nothing—definitely. With a little help from +you I think I can show you the real murderer.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You can’t show me any murderer but Rogers +and Nelson,” snapped the chief, with an air of +finality. “Because you can’t convince me or +anybody else that a man could see what Rogers +says he saw. A pistol with no hand near it. It’s +impossible! It’s dam’ foolishness!” He snorted.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Unconsciously Sydney Thames found himself +nodding confirmation. That was the whole thing: +an impossibility. No one had been near Cartwright +but Rogers. The girl had been shot in the back, +and no one could have been behind her but Nelson. +This last Sydney knew, and had seen.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Let me see the pistols which killed Cartwright +and the girl, and I’ll convince you that the same +man murdered both,” offered Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Duplicate guns aren’t so rare,” instantly resented +the chief. This man was practically telling +him that he didn’t know his business!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Those two pistols—and others that may be in +the possession of the murderer—are the only ones +of their kind in the world!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Look at ’em, then.” The chief grabbed them +from his desk. “They’re a standard German make, +single-shot target pistols, blued steel, with barrels +<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>six inches long, numbered and sold all over +Europe.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton took the two pistols, and Sydney drew +his chair closer to see.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“In the first place,” began the blind man, as +his thin, supersensitive fingers examined one gun, +while the other lay on his knees, “murderers don’t +usually have this kind of pistol. They can’t be +carried in any ordinary pocket, and”—his forefinger-tip +rested over the shallow slot near the +muzzle—“you never before saw target pistols +without front sights!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Took ’em off so they wouldn’t catch in the +pocket,” grunted the chief knowingly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton’s lips curved in a smile. “An ingenious +theory,” he grunted. “Have you one to fit the +banged-up appearance of these butts?” He held +out the pistol and indicated the nicks and scratches.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Been used to hammer nails,” declared the chief, +exaggerated weariness in his voice. “Gun owners +use ’em that way sometimes, like a woman uses a +hairbrush. Nothing to that.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes there is! No gun owner in the world ever +drove a nail by holding a gun vertically, hand on the +barrel, and pounding it up and down like a pile +driver! See, the hard usage doesn’t show on the +bottom of the butt, as it would have done had the +pistol been swung as a hammer. The dents and +scratches are all on the outside edge!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief took the extended gun. The sarcastic +smile on his lips faded as he tried the two ways of +holding it. The blind man was right! No driving +of nails could have made nicks and scratches where +they were on this pistol! “What’s that got to do +with the murder?” he growled.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Everything,” answered the problemist shortly. +He took the other pistol on his palm. “Didn’t it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>strike you that these were two finely balanced +pistols, even for target use?” Before the chief +could reply Colton shot another inquiry: “Didn’t +you wonder at the fact that both triggers had been +filed to a hair so that the slightest jar would cause +the hammer to fall? See!” He cocked the pistol +and jammed the muzzle against the chief’s desk. +The hammer choked down sharply. He tried it +again, this time jamming the butt down on a chair +arm. Once more the hammer snapped on the empty +chamber.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief’s jaw dropped. “That’s how those +nicks were made!” he ejaculated, shocked from +his supercilious attitude. The lightning-like questions, +the proving of fact after fact by Colton, had +disconcerted him. In ten minutes the man who was +sightless had shown him details that neither his keen +eyes nor the eyes of his hundred men had seen, and +Colton had made of those details startling, vivid +possibilities.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“May I speak to Mr. Rogers?” Colton asked +the question quietly, simply, but under his voice +was a subtle note that was dominantly compelling; +a note that had made bigger and stronger men than +the chief of the New York detective bureau bow to +his wishes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s all very interesting stuff,” began the +chief pompously, “but Rogers is the man who shot +Cartwright, and we know that Cartwright held a +dozen thousand dollars’s worth of his paper.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The door opened to admit an attaché, and Sydney +hid a grin with his hand. He had seen the chief +press the call button even before he began to speak.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Bring Rogers here,” grunted the head of the +detective bureau.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The lawyer came in a moment later, and the two +men who accompanied him were curtly ordered out. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>The strong face of the prisoner was marred by lines +indicating loss of sleep; his lips were shut grimly, +a scowl creased his forehead, his eyes, sharp and +piercing, were fixed on the chief.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This is Mr. Colton, Rogers,” introduced the +detective shortly. “He’s got a sort of a theory on +the Cartwright murder.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“If it’s the right one he’ll save you a lot of +trouble,” snapped the lawyer ungraciously. He +turned to Colton. “I’ve heard of your work on +the Villers case.” His tone was almost amiable; +then into it came dull wonder. “But that was +simplicity itself beside this. I saw that revolver +before the shot was fired, unsupported by human +hands, against Jim Cartwright’s shirt front. It +must have flown there on invisible wings!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief grunted sarcastically, as he had grunted +at each repetition of that unvarying statement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton, tapping his foot lightly with his +thin stick, looked up. “That is just what it did +do!” he said. The three men stared blankly. +The blind man continued: “According to the +newspapers, Mr. Rogers, you said that something +caused you to jerk up your head in time to see that +picture. Do you know what it was?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I do not.” Rogers shook his head. “I can +only describe it as some inner impulse.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Wasn’t it”—Thornley Colton’s tone was impressive—“wasn’t +it a shadow, a swift-passing shadow, +your eyes saw on the floor?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Rogers leaped to his feet. “By Heaven, it was!” +he shouted. “I remember now!” His voice +trembled with excitement. “I had lowered my +head, and across the streak of light between the +seat edge and table flew a shadow—like a bird +passing overhead.” He stopped suddenly, the +bewildered look on his face telling the sudden +<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>realization of his words. “How could you know +that?” he burst out.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The human brain is a curious thing,” explained +the blind man slowly. “It unconsciously records +impressions the eyes give, but they are instantly +forgotten—because the giving is so automatic—until +something recalls them. Without sight I have +been compelled to figure all things in my brain. +Even the steps that you take without seeing must +be mentally visualized by me. I knew it <em>must</em> have +been a shadow that caused you to look up. To you +it was merely one of the thousand unconscious-conscious +things your eyes see during the day which +are locked up in the brain until some outside +influence brings them back.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You can solve this thing!” Rogers shot out +the words as if he had just made a wonderful +discovery. The blind man’s conscious power in +himself had won the confidence of the lawyer; +made him realize that there was some logical +explanation for the thing which his eyes had seen, +and which his reason refused to accept. He forgot +that he was a prisoner formally charged with +murder, he paced the room nervously. And the +chief, scowling down at his desk, was silent. “If +you can find the man who killed Jim Cartwright!” +The excitement died from Roger’s voice, a new tone +came. “I knew him for thirty years, yet I never +knew him until last night!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I want to bring to justice the man that could +kill a girl whose soul held the music of Miss +Reynolds’s.” There was unconscious rebuke in the +problemist’s voice. All his powers he had brought +to avenge the innocent girl; but he knew his efforts +must be concentrated on the Cartwright murder +because that was the key, the only key that would +lead to the murderer.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>“The love-crazed kid did that! He―⁠―” Rogers +stopped, his eyes saw the two pistols side by side on +the commissioner’s desk. Instantly his keen brain +recognised the significance. “They’re the same!” +he exclaimed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What were Cartwright’s relations with Miss +Reynolds?” It was a command, as Colton put it. +Rogers lifted his eyes from the two pistols.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You wrong Jim Cartwright,” he said quietly. +“You’ve accepted the general opinion of him; the +opinion he never cared enough about to refute. He +wasn’t an angel, but he wasn’t the devil a thousand +jealousies have painted him. I’m going to tell you +the story he told me last night.” And he did, with +all the deep feeling of his friendship, splendidly, +simply.</p> + +<p class='c008'>As the men listened they understood the tragedy +of Cartwright’s love for the woman who had been +killed in the first moments of her new-found happiness—and +his; of the little girl he had taken from +her dead mother’s arms to work for, to protect, to +give the happiness the mother had been denied—only +to see her foully murdered when her cup of joy +had but just been filled. The fiendishness of it held +them spell-bound. The two beings that Cartwright +had loved had been snatched from him, and he had +been killed, knowing in the last instant of his life +that the real murderer of the girl was not even +suspected, could not be suspected, because of the +devilish ingenuity of his crime.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Kelly, the drunken magician, is the man who +killed Cartwright!” ejaculated the chief.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Rogers was startled for a moment, but Colton, +with an inscrutable smile on his thin lips, put a +question:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The father of the girl is dead, isn’t he?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Rogers glanced at the blind man in surprise. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>“Yes,” he admitted. “He died in the alcoholic +ward of a Chicago hospital three months after his +wife was killed. He was buried in the potters’ field.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where did you find that out?” scowlingly +demanded the chief.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That I didn’t proves the fact,” answered the +blind man crisply. “If Cartwright hadn’t known +he was dead you’d have heard of him before. Do +you want me to go on?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Might as well,” granted the chief. “Maybe +this is your lucky day.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then I’d like to ask a few questions of the boy +who was arrested as Miss Reynolds’s murderer.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief gave the order, but there was a light +of triumphant anticipation in his eyes as he waited. +Unlike the murderer of Cartwright, there was +nothing mysterious in the killing of the girl, despite +the clever efforts of the blind man to prove differently. +A score of persons had seen the flash of the +pistol from the rear of the box. His men had +examined the velvet-hung wall toward which the +girl’s back had been, and there was not a break in +it, not a crack.</p> + +<p class='c008'>When the boy—he was little more—was led in +by two detectives there came a look of pity to the +faces of Sydney and Rogers. He staggered to a +chair when the men released his arms. His lips were +purple and torn where Cartwright had beaten him +to the floor the night before. A haunting look of +terror was in his eyes; his face was pasty white.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I didn’t do it! I didn’t! I didn’t!” he +whispered hoarsely, when he had wet his dry lips +to make even the whisper possible.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I +know you didn’t,” he said, and there was a world of +sympathy in his voice. A new look came to the boy’s +eyes, a trembling hand sought that of the blind man.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>“I loved her and she loved me,” he said chokingly. +“We were going to be married—but that Cartwright―⁠―” +Shrill vehemence came to the tone, and he +stopped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton’s hand quieted him. “Listen closely now, +Mr. Nelson, and tell me if this is what happened: +You groped your way to the box with your right +hand on the wall. You felt the black velvet hangings, +stopped, and the pistol went off while your +right hand was stretched above you, on the hangings, +and you were facing the door that led back off the +stage.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I remember that!” interjected Sydney. “His +left side was towards Cartwright and the girl!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yet you said that the pistol flash crossed his +body.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It did!” broke in the boy. “It was not +twelve inches ahead of me! My right foot was +extended to take another step, and the pistol fell +on my toe!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton turned to the three listening men. “To +have fired that shot he would have had to double +his left arm behind him and have shot around his +body—a physical impossibility, even with a long-barrelled +pistol.” He placed his hand gently on +the boy’s shoulder once more. “Go outside to the +men who brought you in,” he said. “You will be +free in a few hours.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silently the boy obeyed. When Colton faced +them again there was a curious expression on his +face; the expression of a man who has seen a +thoughtless boy destroy a priceless work of art by +his clumsiness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He killed that girl as surely as if he had placed +the pistol at her back,” he said sadly. “Yet he is +as innocent of her murder as a child unborn!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Eager questions, demands for an explanation of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>that cryptic remark, were fairly hurled at the blind +man by the excited Rogers. What did he mean? +How could the boy have killed Miss Reynolds and +not be guilty of her murder? How had she been +killed? By whom? Sydney Thames forbore the +questions he knew would not be answered. The +chief scowled down at the two pistols, silent, thoughtful. +Colton’s statement regarding the firing of the +pistol across the boy’s body had struck him like a +dash of cold water. It was true! The boy could +not have fired the shot that killed the girl! Once +more the blind man’s unerring instinct for truth +had torn down the case he and his men had been +building for hours. In less than five minutes the +sightless problemist had proved a fact that twenty +pairs of eyes had failed to see.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where are the two men who were arrested in +the rathskeller?” asked Colton curtly, utterly +ignoring the questions.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Bailed by their boss,” answered the chief. +“They can only establish details anyway.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I want to interview at least one of them,” +declared Colton. “I also want to visit the rathskeller. +Can Mr. Rogers go, in your company, of +course?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” The chief took the responsibility unhesitatingly. +He realized that he must see the thing +through now.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is your machine down here? I want to send +my boy on an errand with mine.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Outside, waiting.” The chief took his hat and +coat from the tree. “I’ll go with Rogers while he +gets his,” he added, as he opened the door.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man hurried out, feet unerringly retracing +the steps his brain had registered when they +entered. The red-haired boy ran from the group +of detectives he had been entertaining.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>“Shrimp!” The blind man used the name he +always called the boy, and took him aside. He +whispered instructions, thrust two or three bills +into the other’s hand. The youngster darted for the +machine, and jumped up beside the driver as the +chief and Rogers came from the front door.</p> + +<p class='c008'>In silence the quartet climbed into the car; in +silence they made the journey to the rathskeller, +where James Cartwright had been shot a few hours +before. The waiter who had been on duty early +in the morning was again on hand, heavy-eyed. +The barman was at his home.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where’s the booth you occupied?” asked +Colton of Rogers, when the chief had established +their identity with the nervous proprietor.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The lawyer went to it, stopped at the table, and +stared down at the dark stain that could not be +removed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This is where we were,” he said huskily.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton stepped in between the table and the seat +edge, and sat down, facing the rear of the rathskeller. +“Cartwright was seated at the end of the seat, like +this?” He illustrated.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Rogers nodded. “He was on the extreme end, +so he could assure himself that no one would hear.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton rose, and with only the slim stick to guide +him, made his way to a booth that faced the front +of the rathskeller, at right angles to the one where +the watching men still stood.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Who was in this booth when Cartwright was +shot?” It was snapped out like the crack of a +whip to the waiter.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No-body,” faltered the serving man, wincing +under the battery of eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There was!” The voice held accusation. “A +man was in this booth, and he entered a moment +or so before Mr. Rogers and Mr. Cartwright!”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>The waiter brushed his dry lips with the back of +his hand. “He couldn’t have had nothin’ to do +with it,” he mumbled, fingers twisting and untwisting +the napkin in his hands.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No one said he did!” said the blind man +sharply. “You’ve been a witness in a murder case +before, haven’t you?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The watching men saw a look of alarm come to +the man’s eyes. The chief stepped toward him +menacingly. “Yes, sir,” muttered the waiter, +shrinking. “I saw a man shot while I was at the +Royal. The police kept me in the detention for +three months, and I lost my job.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>There was a grim smile on Colton’s lips as he +nodded understandingly. “You weren’t going to +take a chance on that again, were you?” His +tone was less brusque. “I’ll assure you that you +won’t be held a minute if you give me a description +of the man.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief opened his mouth, then closed it with +a snap.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then I’ll tell you,” consented the waiter eagerly. +“He was a good-sized guy, with a yellow, old-lookin’ +face, bald-headed, with a scar on the top, +and he had eyes that was like slits. He came in +that door.” He pointed to one that opened at the +rear corner of the rathskeller, apparently on a side +street. “He was so drunk he couldn’t hardly +walk, and he almost fell into the seat. I was goin’ +to put him out, we closed in half an hour, an’ I +didn’t want to have to throw no drunks in the +street. But he wanted a whisky and―⁠―” The +waiter flushed and stopped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Go on,” prodded Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The waiter looked at the proprietor and gulped +nervously. “He gave me a five-spot, an’ told me to +keep the change. I was bringin’ the drink when the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>other two came in. I got theirs, and went up front +to figger my checks. Then I heard the shot. When +I thought of the drunk again he was gone. But +he couldn’t ’a’ done nothin’. He had a horrible +bun, an’ we seen the gun layin’ in front of this guy.” +He indicated Rogers. “Me an’ the bartender +figgered we wouldn’t say nothin’ about him. If +we did the police ’ld put us in the detention till +they found him. His gettin’ out like that would +’a’ looked suspicious to them if it didn’t to nobody +else. He was scared sober an’ beat it quick. That’s +my idear.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Probably he’d had an experience in the house +of detention, too,” declared the blind man dryly; +then: “You never saw him before?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s all. Let’s go, chief. There’s a detail I +want to clear up at the theatre. I’ve got to prove +that girl’s murder.” Again there was the ominous +ring in the problemist’s voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief glowered at the waiter. “You stay +right here till I want you,” he warned. “If you +try to beat it you go up the river.” He turned to +Colton. “Wait a minute, until I call up headquarters. +I’ll give ’em the description of that drunk, +and have every man in the city on his trail.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And spend a week following up clues,” snapped +the blind man impatiently. “I’ll show you where +he is in less than an hour!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He paid no further attention to the gaping chief +of detectives, but made his way out of the place, +the silent Sydney Thames at his elbow, the latter’s +coat sleeve lightly touching that of Thornley Colton. +And the chief followed meekly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man climbed into the front seat with +the driver, and Sydney realized that he wanted to +avoid interrogation; to figure out the last steps +<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>alone. But in the tonneau the men could not resist +voicing the questions that filled their minds. Who +had killed Miss Reynolds, and what could have +been the object of the murder? What connection +could a drunken man have with the murder of +Cartwright; with a pistol that had been fired +without the aid of human hands?</p> + +<p class='c008'>They were at the theatre. The box-office had +just been opened for the day, and the manager +took them into the darkened house. The big +interior, dim and tomblike, sent a shudder through +Sydney Thames. Last night there had been brilliant +lights, happy men, laughing women—and the girl +of the violin. To-day the great stage gaped before +them, huge, untenanted; the seats were covered +with their white dust cloths; voices sounded eerie +in the barnlike emptiness. The velvet hangings +at the rear of the box, which had looked so striking +with their sleek blackness the night before, now +appeared worn and dusty. The overturned chairs +had been righted, the blood-stained carpet had +been replaced.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton’s thin stick located the chairs. +His right hand groped along the wall, so that the +velvet moved under it. He thrust his slim cane +under his arm, and the wonderful fingers went over +the velvet inch by inch, sometimes so strongly that +the thick stuff moved under them, then the pressure +was so light that not a quiver of the loose velvet +betrayed their presence. Inch by inch the feeling +fingers made their way, as the men watched breathlessly. +Rogers could stand it no longer.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Was the murderer concealed behind those +hangings?” he asked excitedly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No,” Colton answered him, without moving. +“The pistol flash came from this side of the velvet.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silence came again. The slow-moving fingers +<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>stopped. The blind man looked up; then his +doubly keen ears caught the sound of hurrying +footsteps coming toward them down the aisle.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A telephone message for me?” he asked, as +the attaché stopped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Colton?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” He turned to the others. “Come! I +think this is the last detail.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>They were at his heels as he entered the boxlike +office. Tense, expectant, though they knew not for +what, they listened to the one-sided conversation.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. Good. Did you see him? No, that’s all +right. Stay there until we come.” He spoke an +aside to the ticket-seller: “Will you please take +this address for me?” The man picked up his +pencil and drew a small pad toward him. “Nine +hundred and ninety-seven West Forty-fourth.” +The blind man hung up the receiver.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What is it?” The question was chorused by +the excited men.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The address of the man who murdered Cartwright +and Miss Reynolds!”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>IV.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Before the gasps of amazement, the ejaculations +of incredulity could become coherent questions, +Thornley Colton had turned and made his way from +the office, light stick dangling idly from his fingers. +Dazedly they followed him from the theatre and +into the waiting automobile. He had located the +murderer of Cartwright and the girl! They were +dumb with the wonder of it. Swiftly, unerringly, +the blind man had found the murderer whose very +being they had not suspected a short time before. +To the men who had followed every step of the +problemist, who had seen things that he could not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>see, the finding seemed magic comparable only to +the magic of the pistol that had apparently flown +from the air to deal its death. There was a new +expression on the face of the chief of detectives +now. The scowl was gone; the sarcastic curve of +lips had vanished. In their place had come wonder, +tinged with awe toward the man who had builded a +wonderful structure of truth from the pieces he and +his hundred men had either discarded or had not seen.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The car turned into Forty-fourth, passed the +brownstone houses where every door bore its sign: +“Table Board. Furnished Rooms.” A red-headed +boy ran out into the street, and the chauffeur +slowed up.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s t’ree houses down, Mr. Colton.” The Fee’s +voice fairly trembled with excitement. “He’s on +the top floor. Kin I go with yuh?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton nodded and stepped down from the +machine. “We’ll walk the rest of the way,” he +told them. He started, the bright-eyed boy at his +elbow.</p> + +<p class='c008'>They mounted the steps of a brownstone house, +and Colton rang the bell. A frowsy-haired lady in +a grease-spotted kimono opened the door. The +smell of cooking onions assailed their nostrils; +somewhere within a piano banged out a ragtime +tune; a raucous voice screeched: “I call her Little +Hy’cinth, but her name’s M‘Swigg;” from the +depths of the house a squeaky clarinet piped off-key +opera.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Profesh’n?” snapped the lady of the kimono +suspiciously before any one had a chance to speak.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We want to see Signor Delvetoi,” said the blind +man quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames never remembered the short +colloquy that followed; never recollected just how +they entered the house. Signor Delvetoi! That +<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>name drove everything else from his mind. Once +more he saw the black-clothed, black-bearded man +at the theatre; again he saw the whirling knives +flashing from the darkness into the beam of the +calcium to bury their points beside the woman of +the golden frame; once more came to his mind +the wonderful skill that had directed those keen-pointed +knives toward their target of living flesh—to +brush a cheek and not even scratch it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Then he found himself following the others up +the narrow stairs. In the second floor hall-way a +fat, greasy-faced woman murmured husky endearments +to a monkey in her arms, while a goose +waddled at her side. A dozen discordant tunes +came from the closed rooms. This was the place they +had come to arrest a murderer!</p> + +<p class='c008'>On the third floor Thornley Colton stopped and +knocked on a door panel. <a id='tn-thames'></a>Thames could feel the +tenseness of the men’s bodies as they crowded up +close to the door as it slowly opened. Standing +before them, framed in the light that came into +the hallway from the room, stood a big man in a +stained red bath-robe that trailed the floor behind +the worn carpet-slippers. His head was bald, and +across the skull ran a livid scar; his face was a +deep-lined, jaundiced yellow.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We want you for the murder of Cartwright and +the girl at the theatre.” That was all Colton said, +and his voice was low.</p> + +<p class='c008'>For an instant the face of the man went a fish-belly +white; then murderous red rage leaped to the +cheeks, and darted from the slit eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You devils!” he shrieked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The red robe was flung back; but with a movement +as quick as light itself Colton’s hand darted +out, closed with a grip of steel on a wrist, and the +red robe whirled as the man spun to his knees.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>“Better handcuff him,” advised the blind man +quietly, as he pushed aside the fallen knife with +the thin cane that had warned him of the murderous +movement. The handcuffs clicked on the knife-thrower’s +wrists as the chief dragged him to a chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So you’re the one, eh?” The detective chief +tried to make his tone casual, but he could not keep +the wonder from his eyes, or voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, you got me right,” sneered the knife-thrower.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How did you do it?” put in Rogers dazedly. +The picture he had seen the night before was still +in his mind.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A cunning light leaped to the half-closed eyes +of the red-robed man. “D’you want to hear the +whole thing?” he asked. “You might as well,” +he boasted. “I’ll never swing for it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Go ahead,” growled the chief, drawing his chair +up closer and placing his revolver on his knees. +The knife-thrower grinned sneeringly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Well,” he began, and his evil eyes seemed to +gloat at them. “I’m the only man in the world +that could have pulled the trick. It took years of +practice to get it down pat, but there’s Indian blood +in me, mixed with the Irish. They don’t know +much about me in this country, and I didn’t want +them to, till I got Jim Cartwright. But in Europe +I’m the best in the business, and I’m the only one +that could ever plant five knives in a spot the size +of a half dollar at thirty feet, and do it on the +level.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>There was boasting in the tone, but to Sydney +Thames, who had seen his amazing work of the night +before, it was not idle boasting.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The story of why I killed Cartwright is the same +old game: I had a woman and he took her. She +wasn’t much good, only a doll-faced fool, and there +<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>was a squalling kid that got on my nerves; but +she was mine, body and soul.” The listening men +gritted their teeth at the tone, and he sneered at +them for it. “Cartwright took her, and I went +after them both. I had a little money, I was +headin’ the olio in a burlesque. Before I started +I went in a place along the river front in Chicago, +where I was. I musta showed my roll, because—now +I don’t expect you to believe what’s comin’, +and I don’t give a damn whether you do or not!” +There was sullen defiance in the voice. “But I +woke up in a hospital I never saw before, and the +nurse talked German! It was in Berlin, and it was +ten years after! Oh, it wasn’t anything new, the +doctors told me. One of the Windy City thugs +had lead-piped me for my roll; you can see the scar +I got. Something cracked in my head then, and +when I woke I’d just been in a German train smash-up. +The doctors said the bump I got there straightened +me out.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I remembered everything after a while. I was +doin’ a knife-throwin’ act. Some wop had picked +me up when I didn’t know my own name, and +brought me to Europe with him. Somehow the +kink had kept me off the booze, and I was even +better than him, and he was the best in the world, +bar none. He died a few months after I got out, +and I copped his layout. We’d been rehearsin’ a +stunt that was going to make ’em all sit up. The +Flyin’ Death, we called it, and we threw pistols +instead of knives. We had a blank board at one +end of the stage, and a target at the other. We’d +stand in the centre, let it fly at the blank board, +duck, and the butt striking would jar down the +trigger, and the bullet’d go over our heads and hit +the bull’s-eye three times out of five. It was big +stuff! But I wasn’t satisfied, because I wanted to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>hit the bull’s-eye every time. I was goin’ to play +that act fer one man; the one that stole my wife +and ten years out of my life. So I put in two more +years on the Continent, still practisin’. If you +looked at the nicks in the pistol-butts you can see +how many times they’d been used.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“When I got so I couldn’t go wrong I came to +the States. I learned I was dead—one of the thugs +that got my coin and papers, I guess. But that +suited me right down to the ground. I found +Cartwright was the big cheese in the business, but +I couldn’t find the wife, or the kid. I wanted to +get them, too; ten years don’t make no difference +to me.” Again came the sneer to the evil, yellow +face, as his eyes caught their looks of horror and +disgust. “I spent a year touring here before I +could book Cartwright’s house. I wanted to get +him right before everybody’s eyes. That’s why I +had that dark act. He was up to the rehearsal in +the mornin’ with a kid that looked something like +the woman he stole, but it wasn’t my kid, because +he made it plain he was only her manager. You can +bet he’d a showed it if he had claims. I heard him +make a date for the box after her act, and that +looked good to me, because I’d get him right beside +her.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Under the knives for the spotlight act was the +pistol with a real cartridge, of course. I only used +minichure ones with a pinch of powder for the act. +The guns was balanced special in Germany, and the +front sights was off the barrels so they could slide +out of my hand. I could see the white of the girl’s +waist and his shirt between every knife-throw, +because I waited a few seconds each time to get +’em right. Then, when I knew I couldn’t make a +mistake, I let the gun fly. I was goin’ to have the +butt hit the wall in back of him, and bullet catch +<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>him between the shoulders. It was easy, because I +was above him on the stage, and I thought there +couldn’t be any suspicion because I was in front +of him, and he’d be shot in the back. But that darn’ +fool kid,” he spat out snarlingly, “had to have his +hands on the hanging just when the gun hit, and +throw it off enough to kill the girl.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames gasped audibly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It wasn’t my fault she was in the way, but a +little thing like that wasn’t going to keep me from +gettin’ the man I wanted. I got another of the guns +out of my prop trunk and went after him. I couldn’t +get him right until I heard the other feller arguin’ +with him in front of the rathskeller. I ducked +around to the side-door. I’d been in there before, +but I’d had my black stage-whiskers and wig on, +and the waiter didn’t know me. I played drunk, +and gave the waiter a five-spot for a drink, and told +him not to turn on the booth-light.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Cartwright faced my booth, but I was in the +dark. They started to whisper. The waiter was +out of sight, and the bartender was sleepin’. I had +the gun ready for five minutes. This man bent +down—and I let her fly. There wasn’t going to be +any mistake this time, because I was going to put +another half turn on the gun and make it jam its +muzzle against his heart. No chance of missin’ +that way! And he saw the gun comin’ when it +was too late to dodge! And he knew me then! +And the last thing he ever saw was me grinnin’ at +him! It was a cinch to slope out in the excitement +after.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>There was silence in the room when he had +finished. From beyond the closed door came the +discordant medley of the tinny piano, the screeching +clarinet, the hoarse-voiced singers. Before them a +manacled man, with sneers in his voice, and boasts, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>and snarls, had just told them of the man whose +death he had accomplished with such fiendish +cunning; of the innocent girl whose life he had +destroyed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you mean to say that you could fling those +pistols as accurately as all that?” demanded the +chief, who was a policeman, first, last, and all the +time. The case, to him, had ceased to be one of +human emotions, of sorrow and tragedy; it was a +matter of proof, of conviction. Such is the policeman’s +philosophy of life—and death.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you want me to prove it?” taunted the +murderer. “There’s the other pistol for the act on +the bureau. It ain’t loaded. Get it and I’ll show +you.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Better take his word,” suggested Colton +warningly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll see that he plays no tricks,” boasted the +chief. It was his case now. He got the pistol from +the bureau. “I’ll take one cuff off, and I’ll have +this gun on you every second!” he snapped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The knife-thrower leered at him with his bloodless +lips, and the slit eyes shone with an exultant gleam. +He took a stubby pencil from his bath-robe pocket +and drew a small circle on the blank wall. He +walked to the other end of the room, the chief +watching him like a hawk. The pistol dangled from +the man’s hand as he turned. A snap of the arm, +and it became a flying whirl of blue. The muzzle +struck the exact centre of the small circle, the +hammer snapped down, and for an instant the gun +seemed suspended against the wall before it jangled +to the floor.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“God! That’s what I saw last night!” choked +Rogers.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The knife-thrower picked up the pistol. “It’s +just as easy to make the butt strike first, with the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>muzzle pointed at me, as it should have pointed at +Cartwright’s back last night.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The commissioner watched every move as he +walked to the end of the room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Suddenly Colton’s voice rang out:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“<em>Don’t let him throw that pistol!</em>”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief jumped from his chair as the red arm +swung.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A line of fire leaped from the blank wall toward +the scarlet-robed figure across the room. The +explosion echoed and re-echoed in the room. The +pistol clattered on the bare boards under the small +circle it had struck so unerringly. On the butt +were flakes of the white plaster where it had been +driven into the wall. The red robe seemed slowly +to crumple as the knife-thrower sank to the floor; +and as they ran to where he lay, the lips twisted +in an evil leer of triumph, the slit eyes gleamed their +gloating.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I told you I’d never swing for it!” he sneered +up at them. “Palming that cartridge was easy. +I used to be a magician—when my name was—Kelly!”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>V.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>“Yes, Sydney, he paid the price the State puts +on murder, and I guess it is just as well.” A +fleeting smile crossed Colton’s thin lips for an +instant. “But the chief is naturally angry that +such a spectacular murderer should escape his +clutches so easily. My keen ears caught the click +of the breech as he put in the cartridge. But I was +too late; he had waited until the last second.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The two men were in the library of the old-fashioned +house, where the blind man had come +to spend his regular afternoon four hours in darkness +that meant insurance against the splitting +<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>headaches too-long-continued light on his sensitive, +sightless eyes always caused. The knife-thrower +had lived but a few minutes, for his skill had not +failed him, and the bullet had pierced one of his +lungs. Rogers had gone to arrange for the funerals +of Cartwright and the daughter he had loved. +They were to be side by side in death, and the story +would go to their graves. On that the men had +agreed in the big bare room where the last act of +the tragedy had been played.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How did you ever connect the knife-thrower +with the murders?” asked Sydney finally.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your story of the shooting in the box, as you +told it to me while we were waiting for the panic +to cease in the theatre, gave me the first clue,” +explained the blind man thoughtfully. “The fact +that you saw the face of Nelson so plainly told me +that the flash must have crossed his body, and, in +groping his way in the darkness, his right hand must +have been on the hangings. Shrimp’s enthusiastic +description of the knife-thrower’s act told me how +wonderful it was, and—he was the possibility.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then the murder of Cartwright was the proof +needed. There could be no explanation but that of +a thrown pistol for the thing Rogers saw. And the +two pistols being identical was the last link. But +no one would believe the theory without irrefutable +proof. That I got, first by the nicked-up butts of +the guns, showing how long they had been used in +practice. Then Rogers’s story of Cartwright told me +the guilty person. But then came the necessity of +explaining where he had been all the years. I sent +Shrimp to the stage-entrance to get the knife-thrower’s +address and locate him. He did, and, +being a boy, he aroused not the slightest suspicion +when he made an inquiry at the house. I knew also +that at least one of the two employees of the rathskeller +<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>must have known another man had been on +hand when the murder was committed. I had to go +there to see why they had withheld the information +from the police. The explanation was logical +enough, but the police would never have seen it. +Then I had to go to the theatre and find the place +where the butt of the gun had struck on the wall. +The finding was more of a job than I thought. In +his excitement the boy must have moved the +hangings a foot, for the scar in the velvet was a foot +lower than I should have found it. And you must +remember that it was a scar that no eye could have +seen, one that could only be found with a microscope, +or supersensitive finger-tips like mine. Then +came the message from Shrimp, whom I had told to +call me up either at the rathskeller or the theatre.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silence came in the darkened room. When +Thornley Colton spoke again his voice was low, +solemn, its tone one of reverent wonder. “The +death of that girl is one of the higher mysteries, +Sydney. Was she murdered because of a terrible +mistake, or did a merciful Providence send a thoughtless, +foolish boy to grope in the darkness at just +the right instant to deflect that pistol, and send the +bullet into her back? She died in the happiest +moment of her life; joy was in her heart and on her +lips. If the pistol had not been turned by the +moving velvet, Cartwright would have died. Her +whole story would have had to come out then; +she would have heard it bandied by unclean lips +on the street-corners; to know that her father, the +father who did not even recognize her, was a +murderer. A merciful Providence? I’ll always +wonder, Sydney.”</p> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span><a id='PROBLEM-FIFTH'></a></p> +<div> + <h2 class='c005'><span class="problem-a">THE FIFTH PROBLEM</span> <br> <br> <span class="problem-b">THE THOUSAND FACETS OF FIRE</span></h2> +</div> + +<h3 class='c009'>I.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Outside was the hurry and bustle of the busy +avenue; inside was the quietness and calm that +characterised the house of Osmuhn & Son, jewellers +and dealers in articles of vertu. The Heppelwhite +chairs were carefully placed before each velvet +square on the crystal cases that extended the length +of the shop on both sides. In rows of expert array +on the shelves and in the cabinets on the velvet-carpeted +floor were rich European and Oriental +porcelains: Faïence and cloisonné; rare pieces of +Limoges, Satsuma, Arita, and Ninsei; lacquer ware +of Kajikawa, Ritsuo, and Korin. The salesmen, +soft-footed, soft-voiced, appeared merely indolent to +the casual observer, but to one who could look +beneath the surface of things, they gave the impression +of being alertly on guard against a hidden +something.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A limousine stopped before the door. The woman +who alighted was beautiful; the girl who followed +her was wonderful—the type that makes men putty +and women envious. The uniformed attendant +opened the door, they stepped inside. If those two +women had crossed the threshold of any other shop +on the avenue, there would have been a noticeable +flurry of excitement instantly. But not a clerk in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>the shop showed more than courteous readiness. +Osmuhn’s customers were all of the same type: the +richest, the most cultured, the most exclusive +persons in New York. A diamond ceased to be +merely a diamond when it had been sold by Osmuhn. +It became a gem with the reputation of the seller +behind it; a flawless, matchless carbon. So it was +with anything else one bought from Osmuhn & Son.</p> + +<p class='c008'>But if the clerks showed no particular interest, +the same could not be said of the light-haired, blue-eyed +young man who had been talking with two +others at the end of a long glass case. A smile of +welcome came to his lips as he hurried forward, +hand outstretched.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mrs. Marle!” he exclaimed. “And Helen!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>His two hands met theirs in more than friendly +clasp; the left to the woman, the right to the girl. +Only one man in the shop could not see the light +in the man’s eyes as he looked at the girl; but that +one had recognised love in the man’s voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You knew I’d be here, didn’t you, Mr. Osmuhn?” +laughed the woman rippingly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The ruby.” It was not a question, just a smiling +statement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Could mother ever resist a wonderful jewel?” +put in the girl.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It hasn’t been taken out of the private safe since +you saw it before, three months ago,” said the younger +Osmuhn. “Five-hundred-thousand-dollar rubies +aren’t the playthings of the average gem-buyer.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Respect my weakness, please,” pouted the +woman in mock pleading; then her eyes saw for the +first time one of the men young Osmuhn had just +left, and they lighted with pleasure.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I must speak to Mr. Colton,” she said, and she +hurried to where he was standing. The girl and the +man followed slowly, talking in earnest undertones.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>Thornley Colton’s pale face lighted with pleasure +as he took her hand, and his thin, expressive lips +smiled their glad welcome. Only the eyes behind +the great, round lenses of the smoked, tortoise-rimmed +library glasses did not change. His slim +stick, apparently of ebony, hung lightly from the +tapering fingers of his left hand, as did the hat +which a moment before had covered the snow-white +hair that curled from the pink scalp.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Now tell me where you’ve been keeping yourself!” +the woman demanded severely. “No +evasion! We haven’t seen you since that wonderful +thing you did for the Jimmy Raeltons. It <em>was</em> +wonderful!” she added earnestly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thank you,” Colton said simply. There was +no mock modesty; only quiet sincerity in his rich +deep voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But you didn’t answer my questions,” she smiled. +She turned to the apple-cheeked, black-haired man +who had stood silent. “Can you answer them for +him, Mr. Thames?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The black-haired man started nervously as she +spoke, for he had been paying attention only to the +beautiful girl with Osmuhn. Mrs. Marle repeated +the question before he had time to stammer the +apology she saw trembling on his lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I am merely Mr. Colton’s secretary.” He said +it a trifle stiffly, and she understood that his hypersensitive +nature resented her intuitive understanding.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t like gaiety,” put in Colton quickly. “A +quiet chat is my greatest pleasure. Crowds confuse +me, and make my eyes nervous.” He laid his hand +fondly on the other man’s shoulder, and to her eyes +came womanly sympathy. She knew what Thornley +Colton meant. He was blind, and the red-cheeked +man beside him furnished the only eyes he knew.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>“But you’ll come to my reception to-morrow +night?” she asked earnestly. “Only for a few +minutes, but <em>do</em> come.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I had intended to,” he smiled.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s settled,” she nodded. “Now,” she added, +with mock pleading in her voice, “who is to be the +happy recipient of your favour this time?” One +gloved hand made a small gesture toward the trays +of jewels under the glass. The blind man, whose +years of practice had made him reader of every +inflection, understood instantly, but young Osmuhn +came up in time to answer.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Colton has kindly consented to investigate +a small matter for us,” he said nervously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The necklace robbery you were telling me +about?” asked the girl, eyes shining.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Here comes father.” Young Osmuhn’s face was +red, his tone guilty.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Mrs. Marle repressed a smile with difficulty. She +had never heard a whisper of a necklace robbery +in the house of Osmuhn & Son. She understood +how carefully the secret must have been guarded, +and she understood also the lack of caution that +was part of youth and love. But she was a wonderfully +bright woman, and apparently she had not +even heard her daughter’s remark. All her attention +was on the stout little man with the shiny bald head +and the bright eyes that gleamed from under bushy +brows.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A great pleasure, Mrs. Marle,” said the elder +Osmuhn, as he bowed gravely. “You have come +to see the Thousand Facets of Fire.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“To buy it, I think,” she smiled, extending her +hand.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ah,” murmured the gem-dealer, in a tone of +quiet satisfaction. “I will show it to you at once. +It is in the vault.” Then a troubled light came to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>his eyes, as they rested on Thornley Colton and +Sydney Thames. Some subtle fifth sense seemed to +tell the blind man the cause instantly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Sydney and I will wait in your office, if you +don’t mind,” he put in quickly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Osmuhn’s voice showed his relief. Experience +had taught him that there was much more appreciation +when the customer was alone. “My son will +tell you everything,” he said. He looked around +to where the other member of the firm had been +standing a moment before; then shrugged his +shoulders in parental helplessness. Osmuhn, junior, +was leading Miss Helen Marle toward the rear of +the shop.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Mrs. Marle laughed. “You would have done the +same thing at his age,” she accused.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The jeweller shook his head. “I suppose so.” +Then, to the blind man: “A minute only, Mr. +Colton,” he apologised.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Make it ten,” smiled Colton. “Your son told +me practically everything, and I’d like to have ten +minutes or so to think over the facts.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Osmuhn turned toward the small, glass-enclosed +office at the rear of the shop, from which he could +see everything that went on. The blind man followed +unhesitatingly, superkeen ears noting each +footfall of the man who preceded him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Only a minute,” repeated the seller of jewels +again, when the two men had been made comfortable +in the two big chairs by the desk. “Come, Mrs. +Marle.” He seemed to take an unnecessary step or +two as he said it, and only the blind man heard the +click of some secret electric connection releasing the +steel door that Osmuhn opened a minute later by a +curious pressure of his fingers on the knob, and a +peculiar-looking key.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Mrs. Cornelius Marle, probably the richest woman +<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>in New York, lover of jewels because they were +jewels, and not merely as ornaments, owner of what +was reputed to be the finest collection of rare gems, +entered the innermost citadel of the house of +Osmuhn. The steel door shut softly behind her, +and she knew that she was as far removed from the +world outside as though she were a thousand feet +underground. She knew that the tapestry-covered +walls of the twelve-foot room were of eighteen-inch +concrete, interlaced with steel rails; that the +Winton-carpeted floor and the panelled ceiling were +the same. The steel door behind her was the only +opening in the walls of man-made stone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>She needed no direction to take a seat at the small +Sheraton table against the wall at the far side of the +vault. She had been there before; each time when +Osmuhn had picked up some rare and costly jewel. +The jeweller, with a soft-voiced apology, leaned over +her shoulder to press the pearl-centred black button +in the brass wall-plate a foot from the woman’s +elbow. The table light shed its brilliance on the +white velvet table-pad.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The Thousand Facets of Fire is the most +wonderful ruby I have ever seen or handled,” +declared Osmuhn enthusiastically, as he stepped +behind her to twirl the two combination knobs on +the door of the steel safe that was imbedded in the +concrete wall. “Mr. Norvel heard of it when he +was in Europe last year. He negotiated for months, +and sent it to me just ten days before his horrible +accident in France.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The accident left him a hopeless cripple, did it +not?” she asked politely, turning in her chair so +that she could see the deft fingers at work with the +combination.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” Osmuhn’s voice was sad. “He must +walk with canes always.” Then a note of pride came +<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>to his voice. “But he refuses to give up. He is +here every day, and I need him. In the twenty-eight +years he has been with me he has learned +everything I know about stones, and to-day he is +probably the greatest living expert on diamonds.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The round safe-door swung open, and, with a +wholly unconscious flourish, he placed the big jewel-case +before her and snapped back the lid.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A thousand blood-red flashes of living fire seemed +to leap upward, battling with their myriad sword +points against the soft glow of the electric—then the +whole room seemed lighted only by the wonderful +ruby in its velvet case.</p> + +<p class='c008'>As great music hypnotises, intoxicates to sense-numbing +silence, so the refraction of the ruby’s +million rays held the woman spellbound. She could +not speak, nor move; her eyes were held by the +lights that danced and flashed from the thousand +facets—now invitingly, now mockingly, but always +sure of their victory.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Osmuhn’s eyes, under their bushy brows, gleamed +brighter—they understood. At his first sight of the +jewel he, too, had known why men had risked their +lives and why women had bartered their souls and +bodies for the Thousand Facets of Fire.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is it not well named?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>His words seemed to break the spell that bound +her. She nodded as one in a dream, and put forth +her fingers almost timidly to touch the flashing stone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Take it in your hand, feel the weight of it.” +He turned away, walked the length of the room. +When he came back she was holding the ruby on +her palm. The velvet box had been thrust aside, +and in her eyes was almost childish wonder that a +thing so full of fire could be so cold.</p> + +<p class='c008'>With a quiet nod of satisfaction Osmuhn turned +away again—it was no time for words. Mrs. Marle +<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>would want to speak in a moment; until then―⁠―. +He went behind her, and bent down to the safe, his +hands idly rearranging the small boxes that held +the most valuable jewels in his possession; jewels +that were never allowed to go from the specially-constructed +safe in the specially-constructed room, +unless his hands removed them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The woman still gazed at the jewel. A wavering +streamer of mist seemed to hover over it for an +instant—or was it a picture the jewel had conjured +in her brain? As she watched, immovable, it spread +over her hand, then over the whole table—an +impenetrable veil of filmy nothing. She lifted her +unoccupied hand to brush her eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A gasping noise came from her throat. The man +behind her seemed to sense something wrong in the +very sound. He wheeled, the hand that had been on +the safe-door clanged it shut.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s gone!” she choked. “<em>Gone!</em>”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The mist had vanished as it had come. The hand +that never moved; the hand that had held the ruby +was empty!</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>II.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>As the steel door closed behind Osmuhn and Mrs. +Marle, Thornley Colton leaned back in his chair +and thoughtfully puffed a cigarette. But Sydney +Thames, the secretary the blind man had picked +up twenty-five years before as a bundle of baby-clothes +on the bank of the English river that had +given him his name, could not remain silent. The +story young Osmuhn had been telling them when +the Marles had interrupted was not one calculated +to keep the ever-doubting Sydney still.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What do you think of that necklace disappearance +Osmuhn asked you to investigate?” he +demanded.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>“One of the most interesting problems I’ve been +called to solve in a long time,” answered Colton. A +smile of joy curved the thin lips, for a problem, to the +blind man who solved crime-puzzles as his recreation, +was the greatest pleasure he knew.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the thing is utterly impossible!” protested +Sydney. “Such a thing couldn’t have happened in +broad daylight and in New York.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“As I’ve told you once or twice before, Sydney, +the fact remains that it did happen. And there must +be some explanation.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney shook his head. “The statement that a +man in full possession of his senses could stare +blankly at a two-hundred-thousand-dollar diamond +necklace while it disappeared into a thin mist before +his very eyes is a trifle too strong for me,” he averred +stoutly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you think young Osmuhn is lying?” smiled +Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He seems to be absolutely straight,” hesitated +Sydney. “But his story―⁠―” The rest was +obvious.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The smile on the blind man’s face broadened. +“But consider his frankness in telling of it, Sydney. +If he’d been lying I imagine he’d have concocted a +better story than that. Consider how every detail +of the disappearance is firmly impressed in his mind. +The robbery, for that’s what it was, occurred after +closing hours, when all the clerks and other employees +had gone. Only the younger Osmuhn and +the diamond-expert for the firm were on the premises. +Norvel, the expert, seeing young Osmuhn behind +the long case in the shop, wanted to show him the +completed diamond necklace that was to be delivered +at the Nevin home next day. He laid it before +Osmuhn, and together they examined it for possible +flaws. Norvel placed his cane on the case while he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>took a cigarette from his pocket. Finding he had +no matches, he limped with the aid of his other cane +to his overcoat, which he had thrown over the back +of a chair five feet or so away. A gasp from Osmuhn +caused him to turn, with the overcoat still on his +arm. He saw the other man staring wildly at the +place where, a few minutes before, the diamond +necklace had been. Osmuhn swears that, while +Norvel was walking toward his overcoat, a thick +mist, which he describes as not unlike steam, appeared +over the necklace, completely hiding it from +his eyes. He confesses that the thing was so remarkable +that for an instant he could do nothing but stare. +Then the mist began to dissolve, and he saw that the +necklace had vanished utterly. His gasp caused +Norvel to turn. Norvel hadn’t seen the mist, for it +had entirely disappeared when he had hobbled back +to the case. Together they searched for the missing +diamonds without finding a trace. Also, without +leaving one another’s sight for an instant, they +telephoned to the elder Osmuhn, and sat watching +one another for their mutual protection, until he +and a private detective came. They submitted to +a thorough search, and took part in the all-night +hunt for the jewels that covered every part of the +store and building. Why, the very impossibility of +the story stamps it with truth!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But Norvel was there,” reminded Sydney.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He had no possible chance of touching the +necklace. He had turned away, and his back was +toward Osmuhn.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the mist?” persisted Sydney. “That is +the impossible part of the whole thing. How, in +Heaven’s name, could there be a mist such as he +describes in a New York jewellery shop? It’s +absurd!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Not absurd, Sydney,” corrected the problemist +<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>mildly. “Merely the solution; the solution of the +whole thing.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The smile went from his face, he leaned forward +with a sudden tenseness of face and body; the +delicate nostrils quivered like those of a hound +scenting a new trail.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Something’s wrong inside, Sydney!” His +sightless eyes were fixed on the closed, soundproof +door, his head was bent forward expectantly. Then +he straightened back in his chair, and was quietly +puffing his cigarette when the door opened, and the +elder Osmuhn, white-faced, trembling, staggered out +of the vault-room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s gone!” He choked the words just as the +woman had choked them a few minutes before. +“The Thousand Facets of Fire has vanished!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man had risen at the first word, and +before the gem-dealer had finished speaking he had +brushed past him, the thin, hollow stick that gave +its messages to the hypersensitive finger-tips locating +the steps unerringly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The sobbing, hysterical woman at the small table +did not even look up as he laid his hand gently on +her shoulder, but he felt her body shudder under the +touch, as though her overwrought mind had already +pictured visions of the police.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Tell me how it happened, Mrs. Marle.” The +words were soft-spoken, kindly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There is nothing to tell,” she sobbed. “The +ruby just—went.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Dissolved into mist?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She looked up, sudden, wild hope showing behind +the tears in her eyes. “Would you believe that?” +she asked breathlessly. “It seems so—impossible—I +was afraid―⁠―.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I know that is how it disappeared,” Thornley +Colton said quietly. “Mr. Osmuhn will tell you that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>a diamond necklace vanished in the same way +nearly ten days ago.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The white-faced jeweller brushed his sweat-beaded +forehead with a shaking hand. “Yes,” he +groaned, “that, and this ruby, will bring the loss +to nearly three-quarters of a million. But it couldn’t +have happened!” he declared, almost fiercely. +“Mrs. Marle was holding it in her hand! I wasn’t +two feet away. The walls are solid concrete! There +isn’t a crack in them!” Each staccato sentence +was jerked out almost passionately. Osmuhn +seemed to be trying to convince himself, as well as +his hearers, that the thing he knew had happened +was utterly impossible.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton paid no attention. He spoke to the +woman, still quietly, gently, smoothing his questions +so that they became merely statements for which +he wanted confirmation.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You knew the ruby was gone, even before your +eyes saw the empty hand?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Osmuhn and Sydney Thames came closer to the +little table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” She spoke more calmly. “I raised my +other hand to brush my eyes—I thought it was an +optical illusion of some kind—then I felt the stone—go.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t know,” she faltered, looking from one +to the other in bewilderment. “I could see nothing +but the thick mist that seemed to cover the whole +table. Then—I suddenly felt my outstretched hand +relieved of the weight. It—seemed to just fly +away!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A ruby weighing nearly two hundred carats +would make a very good flyer,” observed the blind +man smilingly. Then: “But the mist, wasn’t it a +trick of the lights?”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>She shook her head. “Mist is the only word +that describes it. When my eyes first noticed it, +it was a ribbon that widened almost instantly to +hide the whole table, though the light shone above +it perfectly. I know that last unconsciously, for I +think the jewel had hypnotised me—I couldn’t take +my eyes away, even when the mist hid it from sight.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where is the switch for the table-light? Snap +it off, Mr. Osmuhn.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The jeweller leaned across the table to obey. +Colton examined every inch of the table-light with +his fingers.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Absolutely nothing there,” he murmured. Then +his fingers felt the two buttons in the brass plate +that he had made the jeweller locate for him. He +snapped the light on again, then off, and back.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It wasn’t a trick of the light,” he declared +emphatically. “Nor of your eyes, Mrs. Marle.” +He stood erect. “Tell your son to come here, Mr. +Osmuhn,” he said quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The white-faced jeweller almost tottered from the +small room. The instant that Osmuhn’s footsteps +told the blind man that he had gone through the +door, Thornley Colton spoke.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mrs. Marle.” His voice was crisp, imperative. +“At the instant you first saw the mist, <em>was</em> it as +wide as a ribbon?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She answered steadily enough, despite the sudden +change in the blind man’s tone: “Yes, it seemed +to stretch over the table lengthways, waving slightly, +as a ribbon would do in a breath of air, but almost +instantly it widened and widened, until it covered +the whole table.” There was only a slight tremor +in her voice, but in her eyes was awe, as she spoke +of the inexplicable thing her eyes had seen.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Osmuhn had his back toward you?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>“How do you know that?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She smiled wanly up at him, forgetting, as people +usually did when Colton was speaking, that he could +see nothing. “I don’t know it because I saw him,” +she replied, “but I <em>do</em> know it because he always +turns toward the small safe back of this chair, and +idly arranges the jewel-cases on the shelves when a +customer is examining one of the rare gems he keeps +in this room. He knows the value of silence when a +lover of jewels is looking at a wonderful stone like +the Thousand Facets of Fire.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton smiled understanding; then wheeled to +face the door as Osmuhn entered, followed by his +son. Following them, unnoticed, came Helen +Marle. She took her place behind her mother without +a word.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Father says the ruby has vanished!” cried +the younger Osmuhn, and his voice, and eyes, and +very manner seemed a wild plea for denial.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton merely nodded. “Utterly,” he confirmed. +“Just as the necklace disappeared—into a mist. +Now tell me, Mr. Osmuhn,” he continued quietly, +“what was the appearance of the mist when you +first saw it over the necklace on the glass case outside?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Why, it was just a mist,” stammered the son. +“Just a cloud that spread instantly.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You never lifted your eyes from the stones?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t think so—though I may have looked +up for an instant as Mr. Norvel started toward his +coat.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Cloud—ribbon,” murmured the blind man, +apparently to himself, tapping his trouser-leg with +his slim stick.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That wonderful ruby—gone!” muttered the +elder Osmuhn, sinking, almost inertly, into a chair +at the other side of the small table.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>“My God!” They all turned, as the cry burst +from the man who had entered the vault-room unnoticed. +The new comer was a cripple who hobbled +along with the aid of two heavy black canes. But +it was the lean, intelligent face, with the coal-black +eyes and the thin nose, that held Sydney’s gaze. +Mentality was stamped in every deep-graven line, +but now there seemed a pitiful helplessness in the +tremulous lips of the man as he advanced toward +them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Norvel?” Colton stepped to meet the man +with outstretched hand. Then he answered the +surprised looks some inner consciousness told him +was on the faces of the other persons in the room: +“Mr. Osmuhn told me of you when we were talking +outside, and the tap of your canes as you entered +was all the identification I needed.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, I am Mr. Norvel.” The words came almost +gaspingly, and Colton felt the man’s hand tremble +in his. “I was in my office when I saw Mr. Osmuhn +speak to Henry. I knew there was something wrong +with the Thousand Facets of Fire, and―⁠―.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He gasped chokingly, and staggered. Osmuhn +jumped from his chair with a cry of concern, the +sight of the man before him momentarily driving +from his mind even the loss of the great ruby. +“Sit down, Philip,” he commanded, leading the +crippled man to a chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“These things—are taking the life out of me,” +gasped the diamond expert of the firm. “The necklace—then +this!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Norvel is on the verge of collapse,” +whispered young Osmuhn. “He has had valvular +heart trouble for years. The loss of the diamond +necklace he had worked on upset him terribly—and +he worked for months to get the Thousand +Facets of Fire.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>Colton nodded sympathetically. “He should take +a long rest,” murmured the blind man.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Norvel heard him. “I’ll get it soon,” he said +helplessly, “in the grave.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You have years before you yet,” smiled Colton +encouragingly. “Disappearances like these are +calculated to frazzle the best of nerves.” Then, in +the same gentle tone he had used in questioning Mrs. +Marle, he went on: “Mr. Osmuhn told me of the +terrible auto accident you had in France last summer, +Mr. Norvel. Your driver and the occupant of the +other car were killed, weren’t they?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” the cripple shuddered. “And it made +an old man of me, that and my rotten heart.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Again Thornley Colton nodded sympathetically. +“You hovered between life and death for several +months, I understand?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Practically dead,” Norvel answered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Um!” The blind man rolled the thin stick +between his slender fingers, and puzzled lines appeared +on his forehead.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What is the object of those questions?” demanded +the elder Osmuhn, and he could not keep +the impatience from his voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A long chance, nothing more,” Colton assured +him quietly. “A chance that Mr. Norvel, in his +delirium, might have told secrets that gave the +criminal information necessary to commit these +robberies.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The diamond expert half rose from his chair, his +hands clutching his heavy canes. “That may be +true—I may be responsible!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ridiculous!” snapped Osmuhn, and he made no +attempt to keep the impatience from his tone now.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We can’t afford to overlook even the remotest +possibility in a case like this,” said Thornley Colton +evenly.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>Norvel lowered the hand that had been clutching +at his heart. “Why don’t you search?” he cried. +“The stone couldn’t have gotten out of the room! +The walls are of solid concrete, impregnable. The +ruby must be here!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The elder Osmuhn looked around nervously, eyes +travelling from one face to the other, seeking vainly +for some way out. Mrs. Marle rose and slipped her +arm around the waist of her daughter.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I will submit to a search,” she said quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thank you! Thank you!” Osmuhn fairly +choked his relief. “I will get Miss―⁠―.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you want to search Sydney and me?” +asked Thornley Colton, with a half smile on his +expressive lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t think it is necessary; you weren’t―⁠―.” +Osmuhn stopped, understanding that he had practically +admitted that Mrs. Marle was the only one on +whom suspicion rested. His son opened his mouth +to protest, but the woman forestalled him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I understand,” she said steadily.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then we will go; it is long past my lunch-hour.” +The blind man’s fingers touched the crystalless +watch in his pocket.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Don’t you want to know the result of the +search?” Osmuhn asked blankly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I know it now,” said the blind man, with that +same curious smile on his lips. “Good-bye, Mr. +Osmuhn.” He shook hands heartily with the jeweller, +and held the woman’s hand in his for an instant.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I shall be at your reception to-morrow night,” +he reminded, and she murmured a steady-voiced +“Thank you.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man touched the fingers of the daughter, +clasped the palm of the younger Osmuhn and that +of Norvel, and hurried out, leaving them staring +after him.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>It was not until he and Sydney were in the big +car on their way to the old-fashioned up-town house +and luncheon that Thornley Colton spoke.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“One of the most remarkable crimes I’ve ever had +the good fortune to work on, Sydney. And a remarkable +thief—a criminal with an imagination.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But how did they vanish; where did the ruby +and the necklace go?” asked Sydney Thames +helplessly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Regarding the first part of your double-barrelled +question: Is it possible, after all you have heard, +that you don’t know <em>how</em> they vanish?” The smile +on the thin lips was inscrutable. “Where they go, +Sydney, is not half so important as where they are. +That’s where the work comes in. I am sure that I +know where the Thousand Facets of Fire is, but I +don’t know where the necklace is. I never half +complete a case. By waiting I can get both the +necklace and the ruby. By jumping recklessly I +can arrest the criminal and recover the ruby; but +I’m not a detective, Sydney; problems are merely +my recreation. So I’ll recover both.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The ruby!” exclaimed Sydney. “You know +where that is?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Certainly,” nodded Colton, snapping his smoked +cigarette into the street. “The thief has been safe +because he has worked against men who have +imaginations that are handicapped by eyes. My +imagination is unhampered. As I told Osmuhn, the +search will reveal nothing, despite the fact that the +ruby is just about three feet from the place where it +disappeared!”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>III.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>The red-haired boy with the slightly twisted nose +who had become a member of the Colton household +as the only fee to a particularly baffling murder +<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>case, shifted from one foot to the other in an ecstasy +of joy, listening intently and eagerly as the blind +man talked. When Thornley Colton had finished, +he could contain himself no longer.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Gee! I’m gettin’ to be a reg’ler detective. Yuh +reelly want me to trail him?” He asked the last +anxiously, fearful lest he had heard wrong.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” smiled the problemist. “Shadow him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“B’lieve me, Mr. Colton.” The boy’s eyes were +round and serious. “If I locate that nigger, I’ll +show him Nick Carter ain’t got nothin’ on me. An’ +I’ll find him, too!” he boasted.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There’s a Hindu somewhere around,” nodded +Colton. “He doesn’t amount to much, except as +a trail to the real criminal, but I expect him to do a +certain thing, and I want to make sure of it. That’s +all.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll get him,” chirped the boy, and, pulling his +cap down over his ears, he darted from the room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton snapped out the light and sat puffing his +cigarette in the darkness. For half an hour he did +not move, except to light a new cigarette. Sydney +Thames entered with a slip of paper in his hand, +and Colton switched on the light again.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Three boats leave this week,” announced +Sydney. “The <i>Bordeaux</i> to-morrow, the <i>Trevoila</i> +Thursday, and the <i>Paris</i> Saturday.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I think that last is about it,” mused Colton, his +thin fingers beating a devil’s tattoo on the arm of +his chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The date of the thief’s departure for Europe.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The date of―⁠―,” gasped Sydney.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton nodded. “He’ll have time for +that one after he finds out that the next trick he’s +going to play hasn’t thrown me off the track. He +doesn’t realise—yet—the possibilities of blindness; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>he doesn’t understand that the things which deceive +the ordinary man only make facts clearer to me.” +Colton pushed the desk-button that would summon +the automobile at any hour of the twenty-four. +“Let’s take in a matinée, Sydney,” he said, +rising.</p> + +<p class='c008'>That afternoon, and that night, not a word was +said regarding the remarkable thefts at the shop of +Osmuhn & Son. Thornley Colton had apparently +forgotten all about it. Early the next morning he +answered an anxious query from Osmuhn by saying +that he was hard at work, and immediately after he +idled away two hours in his music-room. At ten +o’clock the telephone rang, and the puzzled Sydney +heard the following one-sided conversation:—</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hello, Shrimp. English valet, eh? Funny! +What! Invalid who has a Hindu servant that +wheels him out every afternoon at four o’clock? +Hindu went away alone at ten o’clock this morning? +Where? Good! Good! That’s all now. Go to +one of your moving-picture shows for the rest of +the day.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>There was a broad smile on his lips as he hung up +the receiver.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What is it?” asked Sydney.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Just another example of how a clever man will +accomplish his object in a clever way. Look up +Irotette’s number, will you? I haven’t got it on +my list.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The caterer?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” When Colton got the connection, and +gave his name, there was no doubt of his standing +with New York society’s biggest caterer. “I want +a favour,” he said, when the head of the firm was +at the other end of the wire. “An exceptionally +intelligent-looking coloured man just applied for a +night’s work at Mrs. Marle’s reception to-night. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>You took him? I thought you would, for I know +the difficulty of getting good men for a big affair +like that. Now for the favour. Can you fix it so +that his work will allow him the freedom of the +rooms? Thanks!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney started to ask a question, but the blind +man forestalled him. “To-morrow you’ll know all +about it,” he promised.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney realised that Colton would not say a word +till the time came, and, under protest, he accompanied +the problemist to the Marle reception that +night. Colton apparently enjoyed every minute of +the time, but Sydney, as usual, was on edge continuously, +for his fear of pretty women amounted +almost to an obsession. Even the wonderful personality +of Mrs. Marle, who went from one guest to +another, as though she had not a care in the world, +and as though the disappearance of the ruby had +never occurred, was not able to put him at his ease.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Promptly at eleven o’clock next morning Colton +summoned his car. “We’re going to make a party +call on Mrs. Marle,” was the way he answered +Sydney’s question.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Didn’t you get enough last night?” groaned +Thames.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Quite,” nodded the blind man, “but did you +notice that bright-looking serving man with the coal-black +eyes? Mrs. Marle pointed him out to me. He +is the Hindu whom I spoke to Irotette about.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hindu?” ejaculated Sydney. “Why should a +Hindu be serving ices at a fool reception?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because he had a little job to do. I’m going to +call on Mrs. Marle this morning, and see how he did +it,” replied Colton, as he pulled on his gloves.</p> + +<p class='c008'>When Mrs. Marle appeared, Sydney Thames had +hard work to repress a gasp of astonishment. Last +night she had been happy, cheerful. Now she was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>haggard, there were circles under her eyes, and her +hand trembled as she held it out.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“An unexpected pleasure, Mr. Colton.” She tried +to say it graciously, but her voice shook, and there +was a piteous look in her eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton spoke quietly, evenly. “The +ruby, please.” The words struck the astounded +Sydney like a pistol-shot.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The woman choked a sob in her throat, and +swayed slightly. Thornley Colton led her gently to +a chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I didn’t take it!” she cried brokenly. “I +didn’t! I’m <em>not</em> a thief! I found it in my jewel-case +last night. I don’t know how it got there—and +Helen saw it, too!” The last words came in a +sobbing gasp.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Of course you didn’t take it!” declared Colton. +“You haven’t even got it!” She looked up, +searching his eyes to find the truth she had prayed +for during the long hours of the night.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You mean it! You know!” Her hand was +on his arm; pleading, joy unutterable was in her +voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I didn’t think that you would find it until this +morning,” Colton said contritely. “It was placed +there last night by an accomplice of the real thief. +I knew it would be. The thief realised that he must +throw some dust in the eyes of all of us. He failed +to understand that dust wouldn’t affect my eyes. +The ruby you have is only an imitation, but it would +have served its purpose. Let me have it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes! Yes! Take it!” The hysteria of reaction +was in her voice; she held out her left hand, and the +red stone gleamed as the folds of the covering handkerchief +fell away from it. “I must tell Helen—I +asked her to call up Mr. Osmuhn.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’m going to see him now,” Colton told her, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>and he hurried out, followed by her tremulous +thanks.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The elder Osmuhn seemed on the verge of nervous +prostration when they arrived at the shop. He +jumped from the chair in his glass-enclosed office, and +fairly ran to meet them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ve been trying to get you for fifteen minutes!” +he said hoarsely. “Mrs. Marle has the ruby. Henry +has just gone there. I never thought―⁠―.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I have seen Mrs. Marle,” said Colton sharply. +“You should know her better than that. The ruby +she had was a mere imitation. Here it is.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Osmuhn snatched it eagerly, glanced at it, and +groaned. “But how did she get this stone?” he +demanded. “It is exactly the same weight and cut +as the Thousand Facets of Fire. She saw the ruby +three months ago!” There was suspicion in his +voice now. “She is the only one in New York who +did see it! No one could have made an imitation +so exactly in the few hours since the original was +stolen. And her story of the disappearance was so +impossible!” Hours of brooding over the loss of +the stone had apparently done their work.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Don’t you believe your son’s story of the necklace +disappearance?” asked Colton impatiently.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But <em>she</em> has a passion for jewels. The ruby +must have destroyed―⁠―.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“If she had stolen it, she would have had more +sense than bring this new suspicion against herself. +I’ll get the thief, also the ruby and necklace. But +I’ll get him in my own way and my own time. You’d +better wait. Good day!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Leaving the head of the house of Osmuhn & Son +staring, mouth agape, he left the shop. Thornley +Colton never had patience with men who couldn’t +see through a ladder when God had given them +eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>“Telephone-booth, Sydney,” the blind man said, +when they were out of the shop. “I’m going to put +joy into the heart of Shrimp. Then we’ll kill a few +hours before the next act. This is a show with long +intermissions.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The next three hours seemed the longest Sydney +Thames had ever spent. They went to an up-town +restaurant, and Colton ate as though there was not +another thing worth thinking about in the world. +Sydney was a flutter of impatience. He couldn’t +enjoy his food; the music of the orchestra grated +on his nerves; the waiter angered him by his continued +hovering. But Sydney knew the futility of +questioning the blind man. He knew that each +apparently irrelevant thing the blind man had done +would lead logically to the finish of the case. But +what was the finish? Who was the thief? Where +were the jewels that Thornley Colton expected to +get by waiting?</p> + +<p class='c008'>At last the crystalless watch told the blind man +that the time had come. “We’ll take a little walk +along Ninety-first Street,” he said. “I expect to +meet a white-haired invalid in a wheel-chair, with a +Hindu servant. Watch for him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>They reached Ninety-first Street, and strolled +along casually; two idlers out for an afternoon +walk. Suddenly Sydney saw the invalid.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A man in a wheel-chair was just brought out of +that brownstone house a block up the street. The +man wheeling him is coloured.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Don’t notice him,” warned Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>They walked slowly toward the on-coming wheel-chair. +Sydney tried his best to appear as calm as +the blind man, but he could feel his heart pounding +in his chest. What was going to happen? The +street, for a block, was deserted, save for them, the +two others, and a ragged street gamin, who was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>speeding along the smooth pavement on roller +skates.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney could see the man in the chair plainly +now. His long, white hair almost touched his +shoulders, the white beard swept his breast, and +came up almost to his eyes. His legs were wrapped +tight in a red blanket, and a shawl was thrown +over his shoulders.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Only five feet separated them. As they stepped +out to let the chair go past, the gamin, with a wild +whoop, came speeding up in back of the chair, head +down. <a id='tn-bowled'></a>He skated straight at the Hindu servant, +struck him, and bowled him over. With a shriek +of joy he continued on his way after staggering +Sydney Thames as he brushed past him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton leaped forward with a cry of mingled anger +and sympathy. His hand on the round iron handle +of the chair kept it from going over, and he grasped +one of the big knobs at the handle-ends to steady +himself as he helped the muttering servant to his +feet.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Little devil!” snapped the invalid, in a high-pitched, +querulous voice. Then, as Thornley Colton +stepped in front of him: “Thank you, young man.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He should be arrested,” declared Colton emphatically. +He held out his hand. “I am blind,” +he apologised. “Will you shake the hand of another +of the afflicted? My secretary described you to me +as you came along.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Well, you’re no worse off than I am,” cackled +the man in the chair. “I see too devilish much! +Good day.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton bowed and stood aside. The impassive-faced +servant pushed the chair down the side-walk.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s a crime the way those gamins carry on,” +muttered Sydney, when they had walked a hundred +yards or so in silence.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>Colton chuckled. “I’ll have to tell Shrimp how +good his disguise was,” he laughed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Shrimp!” echoed Sydney in amazement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Certainly.” Thornley Colton grinned broadly. +“He was on hand to give our Hindu friend a bump +when the proper time came.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“In Heaven’s name why?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So that I could locate the probable hiding-place +of the ruby and the necklace when the time came +for hiding them there. Also, to give me a chance to +shake the hand of the man who stole them. Davidson +is the invalid’s name. Quite a character, isn’t +he?”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>IV.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>In the darkened music-room Thornley Colton’s +fingers wandered idly over the keys, now improvising, +now filling the room with the ever-living soul of +Beethoven, now swinging crashingly into Wagner; +then his fingers on the upper treble brought forth +a strange discord of notes through which ran a weird +minor melody. The last seemed to please him, for +he repeated it, until Sydney Thames, who had been +nervously pacing the room, stopped in his tracks.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What the deuce do you call that?” he demanded, +the discords still ringing in his ears. “It’s +horrible!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because it doesn’t agree with your orthodox +ideas of music,” declared Colton seriously. “That +is one of the most beautiful pieces of music I know. +It is a Hindustan adaptation of the ‘Chinese Flute +Song’ of <i>Siao She</i>. It is a fitting accompaniment +for this latest case of ours.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And just as understandable,” observed Sydney, +walking up and down the room again. Colton turned +again toward the keys, and Sydney broke out +impatiently: “Why don’t you do something, Thorn? +<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>Two whole days have passed since you found the +man who stole the ruby, and you haven’t done a +thing! Osmuhn suspects Mrs. Marle, and she is on +the verge of collapse. You haven’t made an attempt +to clear up the mystery. It isn’t right! Osmuhn is +rapidly losing his patience; his son must stand +helplessly by and see the mother of the girl he loves +suspected; and the thing is making a nervous wreck +of Norvel. It is only a matter of days when he will +have to leave the business for good.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Osmuhn’s patience became exhausted last +night,” Thornley Colton said. “He advised me +that he had lost faith in my efforts, and that he +was going to call in the police.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Great Heaven!” exclaimed Sydney. “That +means that they will arrest Mrs. Marle!” It only +needed a woman in trouble to put the susceptible +Sydney Thames at sixes and sevens.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I think even the police will hesitate before +arresting a woman like Mrs. Marle on mere suspicion,” +the blind man declared.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The electric bell at the front door sent out its +announcement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“See who it is, will you? Shrimp is out on a little +job for me.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney hurried out, and the problemist’s sensitive +finger-tips felt the face of the crystalless watch in his +pocket. A frown furrowed his forehead for a +minute. He went into the library, and was sitting +at the desk which held the telephone when Sydney +came back, followed by Henry Osmuhn, junior.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“They are going to arrest Helen’s mother!” +burst out Osmuhn the instant he crossed the threshold.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton’s mobile face expressed sympathy. “I +don’t think they will,” he assured quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But they’re going to!” cried Osmuhn fiercely. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>“My father put the thing into the hands of the +police yesterday afternoon. The days of brooding +over the loss of the Thousand Facets of Fire have +driven him half crazy. The finding of the imitation +ruby in Mrs. Marle’s possession, and your refusal +to explain what you are waiting for, have driven +every bit of commonsense from him. Detectives +badgered her for two hours last night. She is on the +verge of hysteria. And Helen―⁠―.” He paced up +and down the room like a caged tiger, each word +tumbling over the other as it came from his lips; +his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. The +sensitive-nerved Sydney Thames caught the contagion.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s a crime to let those innocent women suffer, +while you sit there, calmly smoking a cigarette!” +charged the secretary bitterly. He turned away as +the blind man’s lips curved in a smile. “He has +known the thief for two days!” he told Osmuhn, +beside himself at the injustice of the problemist.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He knows the thief!” Osmuhn stopped dead +in his tracks, staring incredulously at Sydney. Then +he whirled to face the blind man, who sat quietly +back in his chair, blowing smoke-rings towards the +ceiling. “Why don’t you have him arrested?” +he demanded, voice high with excitement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because I want to get the jewels,” answered +the blind man.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But a search, a confession, will―⁠―.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you suppose that a man with the daring +and cleverness necessary to accomplish those robberies +would either confess or hide the stones where +they could be found?” he asked, a trifle impatiently. +“I’m waiting for the thief to hide the jewels in a +place where I can find them. That will be when he is +about to start away. To arrest him before would +mean an endless search. You must understand that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>the thief who could commit robberies like those is a +wonderfully clever man. I know that he is marvellous, +for he is the only man I ever saw whose heart-beats +failed to show any emotion whatever.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Who is the thief!” asked Osmuhn soberly. All +the excitement and incredulity had gone from his +voice now.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A man who calls himself Davidson; an invalid +who is wheeled around by a Hindu servant for an +hour or so each afternoon. He is never seen at other +times. He lives next door to Mr. Norvel, your +diamond-expert.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So that’s how he knew!” cried Osmuhn, eye +alight with understanding. “Was he in France +when Mr. Norvel’s accident occurred?” The +question Colton had put at the time of the ruby +robbery flashed back in his mind.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man nodded. “I am going to see him +the minute my boy calls me up and tells me that he +is getting ready to start to the steamer <i>Paris</i>, which +sails at noon to-day.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The jangling telephone-bell came as a period to +the sentence. Colton removed the receiver, listened +a moment, said a single “All right, Shrimp,” and +rose. “The curtain is up for the last act,” he said +soberly. He pulled open a drawer of the desk and +took out a wicked-looking blued-steel automatic and +slipped it into his side coat-pocket.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There won’t be any need of that?” Osmuhn +asked nervously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The man we are going after isn’t the kind that +holds his hands out for the steel bracelets,” replied +the problemist grimly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But you are blind!” cried Osmuhn. “You +can’t see!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man’s smile was one of amusement as he +answered: “If I had not been blind, I wouldn’t +<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>have solved this case, and, if I’m not mistaken in +my man, my lack of eyes is going to do more toward +his actual capture than your keen ones. I have an +idea you’ll see another mysterious disappearance—of +men this time.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He slipped on his overcoat and led them out of the +house and into the waiting car, which had stood at +the curb for the last half-hour. There was not a +word spoken by the three men until the car turned +into Ninety-first Street.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hadn’t we better stop at the corner and walk?” +asked Osmuhn, as the car continued on and swerved +in toward the curb before the brownstone house.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton flicked his cigarette away and shook his +head. “I guess Mr. Davidson is expecting us. I’ve +had Shrimp working pretty openly in the last day +or two. I think the thief will want to pull off one +last grand-stand play before he leaves.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The red-haired boy who had been leaning against +a tree at the other side of the street ran over and +hopped on the run-board.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Kin I go in with yuh, Mr. Colton?” he asked +eagerly, eyes shining with excitement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man shook his head. “No, Shrimp,” +he denied. “You go over and telephone for the +police. We’ll need them in a few minutes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The boy’s face showed his disappointment, but he +tried bravely to keep it out of his voice. “All right, +sir,” he said, with an assumed cheeriness that was +pathetic.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney opened the tonneau-door, and Colton +alighted, his slim stick before him locating the way +up the wide stone steps. His lips were a grim, +straight line as he pushed the button, and Osmuhn +saw him put his hand in his pocket to assure himself +that the automatic was ready for instant use. The +nerves of the junior Osmuhn were taut, and his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>muscles tensed as the door swung back and the +grave-faced Hindu that the disguised Shrimp had +bowled over two days before stood looking at them +gravely.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What wish the Sahibs?” His voice was deep +and rich. He had only muttered when they had +seen him last.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is Mr. Davidson in?” asked Colton politely. +Sydney thought he saw a gleam of fire in the Hindu’s +dark eyes for an instant.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Sahib Davidson is busied. He starts for the +German baths at noon on the boat.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It is highly important.” The blind man’s voice +was suave.</p> + +<p class='c008'>From somewhere in the rear of the house came +the piping, querulous voice of the invalid: “Who +the devil is it, Pinjur?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I know not, Sahib,” called the Hindu, in +reply.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The blind man who spoke to him two days ago +when the boy of the street nearly upset his chair,” +enlightened Thornley Colton, and the ears of the +old man were keen, for they heard.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Send him in!” snapped the squeaky voice. +“And come in yourself. There’s a very devil of a +draft!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The Hindu stood aside gravely as they entered, +closed the door carefully behind them, and, with a +bowed invitation to follow, led the way down the +hall toward the library.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Osmuhn’s tense muscles relaxed, and a gasp of +amazement came to his lips as they stepped inside +the semi-darkened room, and he saw the white-haired, +white-bearded old man Thornley Colton had +declared was the thief who had stolen the Thousand +Facets of Fire and the diamond necklace. Could +this be the man, who, by some infernal magic, had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>caused three-quarters of a million dollars’ worth of +jewels to disappear while people watched them?</p> + +<p class='c008'>The old man drew himself closer to the desk, with +his white hands on the wheels of his steel-framed +chair, and peered at them short-sightedly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What do you want, gentlemen?” he piped. +“I haven’t but a minute. Have I, Pinjur?” He +darted a queer, bird-like glance toward the Indian +servant, who stood, straight-backed, before the one +window that broke the lines of high bookshelves +surrounding the room. The Hindu bowed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton advanced half a step toward the desk. “We +want,” he said, slowly and distinctly, “the Thousand +Facets of Fire and the diamond necklace!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The old man’s cackling laugh came from the white +beard even before the last word had been uttered. +“You want the ruby, eh?” he squealed, his hand +falling on the desk before him. “He wants the +necklace, too, Pinjur.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Osmuhn’s eyes turned toward the Hindu; he saw +the Indian lift one hand—then a rising curtain of +mist seemed to hide him! Another rose over the desk! +In an instant the two had joined, and a solid wall of +fog, dense, impenetrable, hid half of the room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The mist!” he cried, falling back a step, the +fear of the supernatural in his eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He saw Thornley Colton leap forward; saw him +swallowed up—vanish utterly. He could not move, +nor could Sydney Thames beside him. They both +heard a weird, gurgling cry, an oath in a strange +language. Then the report of a pistol echoed through +the room; the flash showed yellow-pink through the +mist.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton’s voice rang out:—</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Fling open the door!” The words loosed the +leaden muscles of Sydney Thames. He sprang to +obey. The current of air seemed to tear the mist +<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>to shreds instantly. Osmuhn took a half-step forward—stopped. +Horror showed on his face for an +instant; then amazement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>On the floor beside the bookcase lay the Hindu. +The blood from his wound was staining the carpet. +Beside him was a curious-looking knife, with the +point stained a dull green. But Thornley Colton +and the invalid had vanished utterly!</p> + +<p class='c008'>The line of bookcases was still unbroken. The +wheel-chair was where it had been before, but the +occupant and the blind man were gone!</p> + +<p class='c008'>Fascinated, horror-stricken, the two men gazed at +the empty chair and the silent form of the Indian. +A soft click sounded like a pistol-shot in the death +stillness of the room. A section of the case swung +outward, and Thornley Colton, his overcoat slashed +from shoulder to waist, stood before them, smiling +grimly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My God, Thorn!” gasped Sydney, his strictured +heart beating once more.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is there any blood on that knife-point, Sydney?” +asked the blind man quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames picked up the knife to examine it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Careful,” warned the problemist. “By the +way he slashed at me I think there is one of the +devilish Indian poisons on the point.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Osmuhn and Sydney looked at the green-stained +point, the slashed coat of the man who stood before +them, smiling calmly, as he awaited the verdict of +life or death.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No,” choked Sydney. He staggered against the +wall. “Thank God! Thank God!” he prayed, +eyes on the man who had been the only father he +had ever known.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton dismissed his escape with a nod +and spoke to the white-faced Osmuhn. “I think +I told you that eyes would be of very little use in the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span><span lang="fr"><i>denouement</i></span>. I knew the man, and the chances he’d +take. I expected the fog. The game was to spring +open the secret door, wheel the man and the chair +inside, and leave us gaping idiotically. Would you +like to see the thief; the cleverest, most daring I +have ever encountered?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He stepped aside. Dazedly Osmuhn and Sydney +followed, only to stop at the doorway.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Manacled on the floor was the thief. Beside him, +in a little heap, was the white wig and beard.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The thief was Norvel, the diamond expert!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No,” said Thornley Colton, “it isn’t Norvel. It +is the man who has been impersonating him for +months. The man who lay in a French hospital +learning every secret of the real Norvel, as he raved +in delirium following the accident. Where Norvel +is―⁠―.” He paused significantly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“His carcass is feeding fishes in the Seine!” +snarled the crippled man. Then he burst into a +vicious, sneering laugh. “Find the jewels?” he +taunted.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Easily.” Colton went through the door that +Sydney and Osmuhn now knew connected Norvel’s +house with the one next door. He wrenched off one +of the knobs at the end of the wheel-chair handle. +They saw the red flash of the ruby as he held it up +to the light.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The necklace and the dozen other jewels that +haven’t yet been missed are in the hollow handle,” +he said quietly.</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>V.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>It was several hours later. In the ornately +furnished vault at the shop of Osmuhn & Son were +the younger Osmuhn and Helen Marle, seated side +by side in two Heppelwhite chairs, their hands +clasped, unashamed. At the small table was Osmuhn, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>senior; across from him, where she had been when +the wonderful ruby disappeared, was Mrs. Marle.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Young Osmuhn jumped to his feet as footsteps +sounded outside.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Here he comes!” his voice rang out joyously, +as Thornley Colton entered, a long, paper-wrapped +bundle under his arm.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Osmuhn, senior, came forward and held out his +hand. “I can never thank you enough,” he said +brokenly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thank me?” smiled the blind man. “The +thanks are all on my side. It was the most interesting +problem I ever tackled.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He laid down the long bundle on the small table, +and took Mrs. Marle’s extended hand. She did not say +a word, but the expression on her face told volumes; +and she understood that the man without eyes knew.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Now tell us how it was all done,” broke in Helen +Marle eagerly. “Henry has just told us how +wonderful you were at the house. Tell us how the +ruby vanished.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The irrepressible curiosity of the girl brought a +smile to the blind man’s lips. “I’ll start right at the +beginning,” he promised. “At the police station +the false Norvel consented to talk—a little. The +Hindu is in the hospital. The two of them followed +the Thousand Facets of Fire all through Europe, +trying to get their hands on it. The real Norvel +bought it before they had a chance to steal it, and +substitute the imitation they had had made. Not +knowing that he had already sent it to America, they +were following Norvel when their automobile crashed +into his on the outskirts of an obscure French village. +The drivers of both cars were killed. Norvel got a +knock on the head that resulted in concussion of +the brain.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The thief, who refuses to tell his name, or anything +<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>of his history, had both hips broken, and was +made a cripple for life. But he is a wonderful man. +He had a cot next to Norvel, and for weeks he heard +Norvel rave of his past life, the ruby, the business—things +that are reiterated over and over in the +raving of delirium. The thief realised what the +knowledge was worth. The fake news of Norvel’s +death went out. When he had recovered sufficiently +to leave the hospital, he was murdered, and the thief +became Norvel. He returned here, a changed man, +but there was never a chance for suspicion. He +was a wonderful actor. He knew everything that +Norvel had known, and he knew jewels even better +than Norvel himself.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“His Hindu partner and an Englishman who +merely played the role of Norvel’s valet came with +him. But the thief was a master. The crude stealing +made possible by his position didn’t appeal to him. +He wanted excitement, to astound people. So he +planned to make a million by the cleverest thefts +ever committed in the world. The Hindu had +learned secrets from the greatest yogi in India, and +he was a wonderful worker in gold plate and other +metals. For weeks he worked and produced these.” +Colton stripped the paper from the long bundle, +and the two heavy canes Norvel had always carried +were revealed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What―⁠―,” began Osmuhn dazedly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton took one of the canes and laid it on the +table. “This is the cane Norvel put on the glass +case when the diamond necklace disappeared. Let +me have that one he stole for a minute, will you?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Osmuhn swung open the door of the safe and laid +it before the blind man.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your son was talking, while Norvel was fingering +the necklace like this.” Colton pretended to +examine the string of stones with his eyes, placing +<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>them in a perfectly straight line with the end of +the cane, not four inches from its feruled bottom. +“Watch!” he commanded. “Don’t take your eyes +from the stones!” He turned away; not one of +them saw the delicate pull he gave to the black +thread that was attached to an almost invisible knob +at the cane handle. But they did see the feruled +bottom spring open. They saw a small claw dart +out, swift as the fang of a snake, catch the first stone +of the necklace, and in a fraction of an instant the +necklace had been drawn into the hollow cane like +a snake in its hole—swiftly, silently. The cap closed +at the bottom, the cane was merely a cane once more.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He showed them the thread, like the one Norvel +had pulled when he started toward his overcoat.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the mist I saw?” demanded Osmuhn, +junior. “What was that?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That is the most wonderful thing the Hindu +yogi have in their bag of tricks. I was present at a +private exhibition of it twenty years ago in the hill +country of India. The men who were with me said +that they saw a man disappear in a cloud of mist, +just as you saw it attempted to-day. Twenty years +ago it was one of the most profound mysteries of +India. To-day it isn’t.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Isn’t?” echoed Osmuhn.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No. The trick is done with a wonderful powder +called <i>scurtii-scurtii</i>. The powder is so finely ground +that when let free in absolutely still air it hangs in +the shape of a mist until a breeze blows it away. +But it doesn’t billow out like mist, or fog. By some +curious property it hangs in the form of a thin, +impenetrable curtain, either vertically or horizontally, +according to the way it has been shot into the +air. The disappearance trick in India can be done +only on an absolutely calm day. Just as it could be +done only in a vault like this, or in the store outside, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>when every one had gone, and there was no possibility +of a door opening. The powder was released +from the cane when the end opened.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the ruby?” asked Mrs. Marle. “There is +no break in the concrete walls; no way that Mr. +Norvel could have gotten access to this room.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton pointed toward the brass wall-plate, with +its two light buttons, a foot from her elbow. “There +is the explanation, and the thing that told me how +the trick had been done.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>They crowded around the table to gaze at the two +innocent-appearing buttons.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“When you snapped off the light for me,” said +the blind man to the jeweller, “my ear, trained for +years to read every sound, immediately caught the +false note in the snap of the button against the +contact. When I snapped on the lights my fingers +found something that no eye could ever have +detected. Instead of being roughly ground mother-of-pearl, +as the centre of those black buttons always +is, my supersensitive finger tip knew instantly that +it was highly polished glass; a lens, in fact.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“By Jove, you’re right!” Osmuhn had been +examining it with a powerful glass.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” nodded Colton, “and if you put the glass +to the other plain button you’ll see a narrow slot, +not much thicker than a sheet of paper, through +which the <i>scurtii-scurtii</i> was injected the minute +Mr. Osmuhn turned his back to follow his invariable +rule of arranging the small boxes in the safe, while +the customer looked at the jewel. The minute the +mist had covered the ruby, Norvel, in his office on +the other side of the wall, where there is a plate +exactly opposite this, so that the electricians would +only have to make one hole for both in the solid +concrete, swung the plates back and stole the jewel +like this.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>He unscrewed the heavy knob from the other cane, +and from the hollow interior took what looked like a +slender cane that, they could see, was made like a +telescope of wonderfully thin metal sections. At the +small end was a shallow, heavy rubber cup, with the +interior smeared with a thick, gummy substance. +Colton’s fingers found a curious trigger-like projection +at the larger end.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t need the ruby for this. When the wall +plate, which he and the Hindu had fixed when Norvel +was supposed to be working late, swung open—hidden, +of course, from Mrs. Marle by the mist—he +thrust the cup end of the cane through the opening +like this.” He thrust the cane toward Mrs. Marle’s +hand. Before she could jerk it away, his finger +touched the trigger, and the cane shut up like a +telescope, as swiftly and silently as a darting shaft +of light. “The actual theft didn’t take an instant,” +explained Colton, and he couldn’t keep the admiration +from his voice. “All he had to do was to touch +the stone in your hand, which wasn’t a foot from +the wall-plate, the partial vacuum of the cup and the +gummy substance would make it stick, and the +spring inside would bring it through the plate-hole +instantly. Then the plate closed, and the thing was +accomplished before you could move a muscle.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But what made the mist disappear?” Osmuhn +wanted to know. “There was no current of air here.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“When you turned you must have shut the safe +door. Of course, that would blow it away instantly, +and the powder is so fine that you’d never see a trace +of it. In the robbery of the necklace Norvel swung +around with his coat on his arm, so that it formed +a fan.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But how did you ever connect the man who had +fooled us all; the man who had impersonated +Norvel so successfully?” queried Osmuhn.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>Colton’s lips curved in a curious smile. “The +impersonation was so perfect that it would have +deceived any one with eyes, just as his thefts did. +And his acting of Davidson was a wonderful piece +of work. He could impersonate everything but +valvular heart disease.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Valvular heart disease?” queried Osmuhn +dumbly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” Colton’s lips and voice were serious. +“He was the most wonderful criminal I have ever +met. A criminal with imagination great enough to +plan such crimes, and daring sufficient to execute +them when a single move, or a breath of air, would +have betrayed him. But his acting was too good. +When he came in here after stealing the ruby there +was not a fraction of a beat above normal in his heart. +He was as cool as ice when the heart of ninety-nine +men out of a hundred would have been pounding +like a trip hammer. It was steady as a clock even +when I left him in the chair apparently on the verge +of collapse. Even then he was planning an unsuspicious +get-away. Even when Shrimp, my boy, +almost knocked his chair over, there wasn’t a flutter. +I shook hands with him, so that I could establish +his identity absolutely. To me there is as much +difference between hands and wrists as there is +between faces to men who see. But the pulse beat +of valvular heart disease is absolutely unmistakable. +The heart of the man who played Norvel so successfully +was as sound as my own.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I spoke in here of the possibility of the thief +having learned his facts by listening to Norvel in his +delirium. The thief realised that a cable to France +might give away his whole game. I was afraid that +he had hidden the necklace so cunningly that we +wouldn’t find it, though I knew where the ruby was +ten minutes after it was stolen.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>Osmuhn half jumped from his chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You—knew where—the ruby was!” he gasped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. I took care to touch his cane handles as I +shook hands with him. Your son’s story of the +necklace theft told me that one of the canes was +responsible for that. While he was in here the ruby +was in the big knob at the end of the cane, not three +feet away from where it had been stolen. But with +my own stick and wonderfully sensitive finger-tips, +I knew that the necklace had been put somewhere +else. Therefore, I gave him the hint he needed +about Mrs. Marle’s reception. I knew if he had an +imitation—which was likely, because he must have +been on the track of the ruby to meet Norvel on the +other side—he would try to get it into Mrs. Marle’s +possession for the purpose of confusing all of us. +Then my boy found out about his dual role of +Davidson and Norvel. Davidson appeared only +after Norvel had arrived home, and Norvel was +supposed to be in such physical condition that he +couldn’t be seen at home. I immediately told you +that the jewel was an imitation, put in Mrs. Marle’s +home by the real thief, because I knew Norvel would +hear all about it, and understand that I wasn’t +fooled for a minute. It was time for him to go. The +French boat sailed at noon to-day. I knew he +would see me, because he wouldn’t miss an opportunity +to prove his superiority, and make a final +grand-stand play by disappearing before our very +eyes as Davidson, and walk out of the next house +a few minutes later as Norvel the diamond expert, +whose twenty-eight years’ service with Osmuhn & +Son placed him above suspicion. You see, he was +taking no chances; he always had two ways open. +But he forgot that the mist he had appear in his +library meant nothing to me. <em>My eyes can’t be +deceived!</em>”</p> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span><a id='PROBLEM-SIXTH'></a></p> +<div> + <h2 class='c005'><span class="problem-a">THE SIXTH PROBLEM</span> <br> <br> <span class="problem-b">THE GILDED GLOVE</span></h2> +</div> + +<h3 class='c009'>I.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>A hundred eyes turned as the woman entered the +dining-room; a hundred lips parted in admiration +as she made her way through the winding aisle of +tables in the wake of the straight-backed head-waiter. +There were many beautiful women in the +room, but, among them all, she was wonderful. +Under the soft glow of shaded lights the ivory tints +of her skin, with the colour of rich warm blood under +it, were accentuated by the burnished gold of her +hair. Behind the full red lips the pearl of her teeth +showed; the great brown eyes looked over the room +calmly, with aloofness. There was nothing girlish +about the new arrival. Every line, every curve, +bespoke perfect maturity.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Then the lips that had been parted in admiration +curved in a smile as the eyes saw the man who +followed her. He was scarcely five feet tall; a +caricature of a man. His small moustache and +ragged Vandyke were so colourless that they could +not be seen at a distance. And he walked behind +the woman with a peculiar lifting of knees at each +step that reminded every one who saw of a helpless +little coach-dog. To a hundred minds flashed the +simile: the beauty and the beast of Madame +Villeneuve’s immortal story.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>The waiter, conscious of the new attraction that +was to make his dining-room picture perfect, stopped +at a table in the corner and pulled back a chair +with an unconscious flourish.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your table, ma-dame!” Then real regret tinged +his tone: “It was all we had.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A startled look leaped to the eyes of the woman; +died on the instant. Her tone was merely casual +as she asked:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You got the reservation—how long ago?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A scant ten minutes, ma-dame.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She turned her great eyes on the little man, and +in her voice as she spoke was the lilt of badinage. +“And you were to telephone an hour ago, Pierre?” +she censured. Her hand idly moved the napkin +on the table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>But the man did not answer. He had slumped +into the chair at the other side of the small table +even before she had made a move toward taking her +own seat. His teeth chewed his ragged moustache-ends. +Under the table his fingers interlocked and +twitchingly separated.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The woman’s opera cloak slipped to the back of +the chair, revealing the white purity of the skin of +her shoulders, and the curves of the throat. She +picked up the <span lang="fr"><i>carte du jour</i></span> languidly, and a little +pout came to her lips, and a tracery of a scowl +appeared on her forehead as she studied the +items.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Absinthe, Pierre, and a cup of bouillon?” she +smiled.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man nodded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Only the bouillon for me.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A slight inclination of her head dismissed the +waiter, and he hurried away. The woman rested +an elbow on the table-edge and leaned forward. +The wonderful smile still curved her lips, but the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>voice was hard as flint as she whispered in sibilant +Italian:—</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Stop it, you fool of a coward!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>His tongue touched his lips. “It has found us!” +he muttered chokingly, and the language he used +was Russian.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hasn’t it always found us?” she demanded +hissingly, but the expression on her face changed not +a bit. “Hasn’t it always been on our heels? But +have I not laughed at it for years? Laugh!” The +last word came like the lash of a whip through the +smiling lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man’s throat twitched, his face contorted, and +a tremulous parody of laughter came.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hideous!” she snapped. “Pitiful ape of a +man! Stop it!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We cannot all be creatures of steel and stone!” +he muttered, in the curious patois of northern +Hungary.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We can all act! We can play our parts! Be +a gay boulevardier of Paris with the false courage +of the green poison in the water of your veins!” +She spoke vehemently, and her words were the +words of the Gascony peasant.</p> + +<p class='c008'>She turned her gracious smile on the waiter as +he appeared with the bouillon and the absinthe for +the little man.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We shall order again presently,” she said, in her +perfect English, and the serving-man backed away.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Without touching the folded napkin, she took a +sip of the bouillon. Her eyes, pin-points of fire +under the shade of the long lashes, watched the man +take up the glass of dull-green liquor and drain it +at a gulp. The fire died from her eyes as they saw +the faint flush of colour come to the yellow skin of +the man and the steadiness of the hand that put the +empty glass on the cloth.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>“Ah,” she murmured, in liquid Spanish, her eyes +fixed fondly on the face of the little man. “My +Pierre is himself again. Sip of your bouillon, my +dear.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The little man obeyed her meekly. “The gaming-table +has played the devil with my nerves,” he +growled.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But they are strong once more. See!” Her +fingers lifted the folded napkin and laid it on her +knee. The man leaned forward to stare at the white +tablecloth it had covered. A gasping whistle of +indrawn breath came from his lips. On the white +linen beside the woman’s bouillon cup were five +smudges of gold; prints of the finger and thumb +tips of a right hand.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The sign of the Gilded Glove!” he choked, +and the colour went from his face.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Cease staring, owl of a man!” she commanded +in Italian. “Have you not seen the sign before? +Do the wrecked nerves of the <span lang="fr"><i>rouge et noir</i></span> table need +another franc’s worth of green heart? Summon the +waiter.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>With a doglike shake of his body the man threw +off the fear that gripped him. He touched his empty +glass. The woman gave another order, and the +waiter hurried away. Then the man’s eyes were +drawn again to the five spots of gold.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The finger prints of warning, the crushed glove +of sentence, the clutched glove of death!” He +repeated it as though it were a lesson that, once +learned, was never to be forgotten.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But have they not always been at <em>my</em> side?” +she asked quietly. “In Paris, in Constantinople, +in Budapest, in St. Petersburg, have I not seen them +always by my side? Yet I live! Should I fear in +New York, when I have escaped in Europe, where +the Long Arm sweeps everything?”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>The waiter returned with the absinthe. The little +man took the glass up slowly, sipped part of the +liquor, and set it down. A glance from the eyes of +the woman rewarded him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Does my Pierre see any one who might wear the +Gilded Glove?” she asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>His small eyes roved around the dining-room, +gazing intently at every face. <a id='tn-shookhishead'></a>He shook his head. +“They are all Americans; men of wood and women +of china. Asses all!” The heavy gutturals of the +German he now used made even more incongruous +the puniness of his body.</p> + +<p class='c008'>She nodded. “Those who so carefully reserved +the table that we might see the sign have gone,” +she said, “and other ears cannot follow our +talking.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man caught a glimpse of some one his eyes +had missed before; he moved a trifle to the left, +to see behind a great pillar in a far corner of the +room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your blind friend is eating his midnight meal +of bread and beef-gravy,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Colton?” There was a new tone in the voice +now, and the man instantly recognised it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A blind man?” There was a sneer in the +words.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I fear him!” she whispered. “He is the only +man on earth I have ever feared. He is the only +man on earth I know I cannot deceive. All the +things I have—my beauty, my nerves of steel, my +acting, are to him as nothing. They delude only men +of keen eyes! The American secret agents who +watch us are fools, but he―⁠―.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Bah! A blind pig of an American!” he +sneered again. It was the man whose nerve was +perfect now; it was the woman who was unstrung.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“His blindness makes me afraid!” She was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>talking passionately in French. “Minds that are +closed to all the world are an open book to him. +I know it!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You think he knows of the plans; of our going +away to-morrow?” The voice was sarcastic, but +the words came slowly, haltingly, droned in the +dialect of the lower Yang-tse-Kiang River.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I know not!” she whispered, in purest Japanese. +“He may; he may not. But no mistake have I +ever made in a man!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then hide your fear,” warned the man. “He +has emptied his last glass of Célestin, and is coming +toward this table.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The woman’s hand fluttered tremulously toward +her throat; but in an instant she was her calm, +collected self. As she ate, and talked French +commonplaces to the little man, she watched the +approach of Thornley Colton from the corner of her +eyes. She saw the white hair that curled and waved +from the pink scalp; the wonderful paleness of the +face that was brought out strikingly by the great +round lenses of the smoked-glass library spectacles +with their tortoise-shell rims. She knew that the +eyes behind them had been sightless from birth; +yet the strides of the approaching man through the +winding aisle of tables were long and confident. Not +a false move did he make, stepping aside at just the +proper moment to avoid hurrying waiters, halting +a second to let a nimble omnibus pass; never once +turning to ask a question of the black-haired, apple-cheeked +man who followed at his heels.</p> + +<p class='c008'>At the table he stopped, a smile of pleasure lighting +his pale, strong face, as he extended his hand. “A +delightful surprise, Madame Gorski!” he said, with +quiet enthusiasm. “Sydney told me that you were +here, but I could scarcely credit my good fortune. +When is the next of your marvellous recitals to be?”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>The woman’s smile of joy and surprise as she took +his hand had been wonderful in its perfection, and +as she answered his last question, no human ear +could have detected the lie behind the words: “In +a few days, M’seur Colton. You are an inspiration. +One seldom finds so appreciative a person. My +husband thinks them frightful affairs.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But Monsieur Gorski is not blind,” smiled +Colton, as he took the hand of the little man. “Music +is the only beautiful thing we of the darkness have, +you know. Eyes can see God’s wonderful creations +and the beautiful things man’s hands have wrought. +We can only hear.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A tender look of genuine sympathy came to the +eyes of Madame Gorski. “Won’t you sit down and +talk?” she invited.</p> + +<p class='c008'>She saw Thornley Colton’s hand go to his vest-pocket, +and she knew that the supersensitive finger-tips +were feeling the face of the crystalless watch he +carried.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He shook his head. “It is twelve-forty,” he +apologised. “I make it my invariable rule to be in +bed at one.” He stepped back regretfully. “Pardon +me,” he said suddenly, “your napkin has fallen +to the floor.” He leaned over quickly, picked it up, +and put it on the end of the table. “Au revoir.” +He smiled again, and with a nod to the silent Sydney +Thames, who had merely bowed to the man and the +woman, he started between the tables towards the +entrance of the dining-room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The woman’s eyes followed him. When he had +disappeared through the door she turned to her +husband. “A wonderful man!” she murmured. +“Wonderful!” She expected a sneer, but her +husband was staring at the crumpled-up napkin +Thornley Colton had picked up.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You say he is blind!” he hissed, in French.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>She nodded, puzzled.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then how did he know your napkin had +fallen? Can he hear the fall of linen on velvet? +Can he?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She reached toward the napkin, lifted a corner +as she pulled it toward her; then withdrew her +hand suddenly. In the crumpled-up folds of the +linen both had seen the dull glint of gilt; both +knew that concealed in the napery was a crushed, +gilded glove!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The sentence!” choked the man.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The woman lifted her eyes to the door through +which Thornley Colton had passed a few minutes +before. “Can he be one of the sinews of the +Long Arm?” she murmured: “A man like +that!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Her fingers toyed with her fork a moment. “Pay +the check, Pierre,” she said finally, and there was a +note of hopelessness in her voice. “We will go +home. I am tired.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The admiring eyes that had watched the woman +enter followed her as she left the room. The face, +calm, patrician, was beautiful; and the long lashes +hid the look in the deep, brown eyes. In the taxi +seat she relaxed; the beautiful face held an expression +of utter weariness. The little man’s hand +touched her shoulder reverently, caressingly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do not falter now, <span lang="fr"><i>ma chère</i></span>,” he murmured. +“To-morrow we will have the plans of the harbour +mines and the hundred thousand dollars they will +bring. We will go far away, then, out of reach of +the Long Arm and its glove of gilt.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“To-morrow,” she breathed softly, and she +touched his cheek with her lips. She was a woman, +was Hedwig Gorski, strange, unreadable. Her heart +was a woman’s heart, and grim-lipped men in +a hundred cities knew that she loved this little +<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>caricature of a man. A smile came to her lips. +“Yes,” she whispered, in low-voiced Russian, “to-morrow +we will be through with it all.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>At the big hotel where they stopped the woman +commanded the same admiration; the man the same +derisive smiles. But they did not see. In their +apartment on the thirteenth floor, whose door was +watched night and day by the floor clerks they had +bribed to see that no one entered, the woman sank +into a big chair beside the table. The man snapped +on the lights in every room, and peered into every +corner. “No one has entered,” he announced, when +he had seen that every window still held the screws +he had driven through the frames the first hour they +had occupied the apartments.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Leave me a few minutes, <span lang="fr"><i>mon cher</i></span>,” the woman +said, and she pulled his head down to kiss him. “I +must think—alone.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Obediently, doglike, he went out into the hall and +turned the key in the lock behind him. The woman +sighed. She rose and went to the small cabinet, +took from it a bottle of wine and a glass. She +started to pour the liquor; then shook her head.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Poison,” she whispered. “That would be their +only chance. I can’t risk it.” She went into the +bathroom and turned on the hot water, rinsing the +glass under the stream until the water was almost +boiling. Then she filled the glass to the brim under +the cold-water tap, drained it. She walked slowly +back to the room, switched off the lights, and seated +herself again in the big chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The minutes passed. The woman never moved; +her eyes stared unwaveringly into the darkness before +her. And from out the dark a gilded hand came +slowly, certainly. It touched the throat of the +woman. Hedwig Gorski did not move. The fingers +of gold tightened.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>Outside the door came the voice of Gorski: “Do +you wish anything, Hedwig, <span lang="fr"><i>ma chère</i></span>?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>And from the darkness came the voice of his wife: +“<span lang="fr"><i>Non</i>, Pierre, <i>mon cher</i></span>.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>But neither the eyes nor the lips of the woman, +nor yet the gilded fingers, had moved.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silence. The man’s voice called again. There +was no answer. Shaking, he unlocked the door and +entered the room. A curtain that had been pulled +to the bottom of the window was up now. A shaft +of moonlight shone on the woman’s face—a dead +face. At her throat a golden hand seemed clutched. +But he came nearer, and saw that it was an empty, +gilded glove. And in the air of the room was the +faint odour of crushed bananas.</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>II.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>The little French clock had just chimed the hour +of three when the tinkling telephone-bell waked +Thornley Colton. He reached forth a hand to the +crystalless watch on the small table at his bed-side +and whistled. The bell jingled again. He threw a +bath robe over his shoulders and went into the +library.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He answered the inquiring voice instantly: +“Good morning, Mr. Ames. Certainly. I will be +ready in ten minutes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>For a minute after he had hung up the receiver +he stood in the darkness, his sightless eyes fixed +on the mouthpiece of the instrument. Then he went +into Sydney Thames’s room and touched him lightly +on the shoulder. “Get dressed,” he said quietly, +but the apple-cheeked secretary saw the grim, +ominous lines that were around the thin lips. “Ames, +of the diplomatic secret service, will be here in fifteen +minutes. Madame Gorski has been murdered.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>“Murdered!” The emotional, highly-strung +Thames echoed the word in horror.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” Still that tone of quiet certainty. “An +hour or so ago, I should judge. We will probably +go down to the hotel. Hustle!” he admonished +again, as he hurried from the room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>In less than ten minutes Thornley Colton, fully +dressed, and smoking a cigarette, was seated in the +library awaiting the coming of the secret agent. +The door-bell rang, and he rose to answer it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He stopped in the hall, when his superkeen ears +caught the patter of bare feet on the carpet. “Go +back to bed, Shrimp,” he ordered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Gee, is it a case, Mister Colton?” The wide-eyed +boy, with the fiery-red hair, the multitude of +freckles, and the slightly-twisted nose, asked the +question eagerly. His hands literally trembled with +anticipation as they fumbled with the front of his +purple pyjama coat.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” Thornley Colton’s lip curved in a slight +smile, and he patted the boy’s shoulder fondly. +“But you can do nothing to-night. Go back to +bed, and to-morrow there may be some real detective +work for you to do.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Gosh, I hope so!” the boy exclaimed fervently; +then his voice became almost wistful: “Gee, Mister +Colton. I wisht youh’d let me get in a case where +there was real Nick Carter stuff; blackjacks, an’ +assaults, an’ stuff like that.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You’ve got a long life before you, Shrimp,” +smiled the blind man, as he started downstairs to +answer the second ring of the bell.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man who entered had his rain-coat buttoned +up to his chin, and the brim of his soft hat came +down to the eyes that gleamed from under it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton bowed gravely. “Rather an early-morning +call, Mr. Ames.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>The gimlet eyes of the secret agent were fixed +on his pale face, seeming to bore and probe into the +very soul of the blind man. “Mind telling me how +you knew my name?” he asked. “To my knowledge +we have never met before.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I think we never have.” The grave smile still +curved Thornley Colton’s thin lips. “But I never +forget a voice I have once heard. I heard yours +several years ago, when I was trying to solve the +puzzle of the missing Villers code book. The +diplomatic service was somewhat interested in that +case, I believe.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So you’re that man!” There was new respect +in the tone, and the eyes of the secret agent gleamed +brighter.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A lucky touch of the fingers found the solution +of the case,” explained Colton modestly. “If you +will come up to my library we can talk more comfortably.” +He turned and ascended the stairs.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames was already in the library, and +Thornley Colton introduced him. “My secretary, +Mr. Ames.” He seemed to sense the other’s desire +for a private conversation, and added: “My eyes, +also.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The secret agent accepted the presence of a third +person, and took off his rain-coat. Seated in a big +chair, which a gesture of the blind man’s arm had +indicated, he asked his first question abruptly, +curtly:—</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Colton, what do you know about Hedwig +Gorski?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A thin ribbon of blue smoke rose from the blind +man’s lips. He seemed to watch the smoke waver +ceilingward before he answered: “I think she is +one of the most remarkable women I have ever met. +There is no subject she cannot discuss intelligently. +She speaks all languages, apparently, and she is the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>only woman I ever met who can interpret Grieg +properly. In fact, I would consider her the most +accomplished and wonderful international spy I ever +met.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Ames straightened in his chair as though he had +been suddenly jabbed with a pin. “How did you +know that?” he demanded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“By a process of elimination made necessary by +lack of eyes. I sought an introduction to Madame +Gorski after I had heard her husband address her in +the Cantonese dialect. I spent several years in China, +and, naturally, I was interested. And her <span lang="fr"><i>musicales</i></span> +have been wonderful affairs—wonderful, and food +for considerable thought!” he finished musingly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You know that she is dead—murdered?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your visit at this hour could mean nothing else. +I have known for some time that Madame Gorski +feared something. I have known also that she was +constantly watched.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>For a minute there was silence in the room. +Ames took a cigarette from his case, lighted it, and +became absorbed in the spiraling smoke. Sydney +Thames, silent, as always, sat back to listen. The +secret agent reached his decision and spoke:—</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Mr. Colton, I came here with a different plan of +procedure in my mind. I’m going to be frank. For +months we have known that negotiations have been +going on with a foreign government to obtain possession +of the secret naval plans of the harbour +mines in New York harbour. When you understand +that those planted electrical mines are the only real +safeguard against the invasion of the greatest city +in America, you will know just what they are worth. +We know Hedwig Gorski came to this country to +get them—from whom we have never been able to +discover. But we have watched every movement, +opened every line of mail she has received, and have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>not been able to find a single clue. For a month my +wife and I have occupied an apartment in the hotel +directly opposite the Gorski rooms. We have been +on guard day and night, as have the floor clerks we +learned that she had bribed. This morning at one-twenty-five +Hedwig Gorski and her husband returned +to their apartment. They went in, lighted +every light, and I know they were examining everything +to see whether or not the rooms had been +entered. In a few minutes Gorski came out, locked +the door, and began pacing up and down before it. +This was something new, and we watched him +curiously. He called. His wife answered cheerily +in French. Ten minutes later he called again. There +was no answer. He unlocked the door and stumbled +in. I was at his heels. Madame Gorski was dead +in her chair. At her throat was an empty gilded +glove—like a hand of gold that had strangled her.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A gilded glove.” Colton repeated it without +incredulity or surprise in his voice; merely as the +verification of a known fact.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You know of the Gilded Glove?” asked the +secret agent quickly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. My world wanderings have taken me to +Russia. The glove has always had a peculiar significance. +In China two thousand years ago a glove +was always given to make legal the transfer of land. +The custom was also in vogue among the ancient +Egyptians and Phœnicians. In the correct literal +translations of the Bible the word ‘glove’ is found +instead of ‘shoe’ in the fourth chapter of Ruth, +and in the one hundred and eighth Psalm.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Ames nodded, and the blind man went on: +“Twenty years ago a certain Russian order first +used the gilded glove as a death sign for traitors +to the government. With a love of the significant +that only the true Oriental mind has—and the mind +<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>of the Russian is all Oriental—the gilded glove was +left at the throat of persons who transferred their +allegiance for gold.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That is right,” corroborated Ames. “Hedwig +Gorski and her husband were the greatest spies +Russia had. Then, for some unknown reason, they +went into the service of another country. And for +five years she has laughed at the Gilded Glove and +its wearers, who have been constantly on her trail.” +Again he smoked in silence for a few minutes, his +eyes fixed on the ceiling. “You seem to know a +whole lot about this thing, Mr. Colton,” he said +frankly. “I’d like you to come with me to the hotel. +When I entered the room, Gorski, who is a little rat, +and heaven only knows how a woman like Hedwig +could love him, was absolutely insane. He moaned +and cried without seeing me for several minutes. +When he did, he accused <em>you</em> of the murder!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Accused―⁠―” Sydney Thames half rose in his +chair and flopped back into it with a gasp of amazed +horror.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton’s face had not a flicker of expression. +“Yes?” he said politely.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The gimlet eyes of the secret agent went ceilingward +once more. “He muttered something about +his wife having always feared you—which is the +highest compliment that could possibly come from +a woman like Hedwig Gorski. He also babbled +something about your not being blind because you +had seen his wife’s napkin fall to the floor, and that, +when you put it on the table, its folds concealed a +crushed gilded glove—the sentence of death. He +swears that you couldn’t have heard the napkin +fall on the velvet carpet.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The napkin had not fallen,” Colton said evenly. +“I pulled it from Madame Gorski’s knees as I leaned +over to pick up the crushed gilt glove I knew was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>on the carpet by her chair.” His fingers felt the +crystalless watch in his pocket. “If you don’t +mind,” he apologised, “I’d like to get down to the +hotel as soon as possible. The most valuable clue, +I think, will disappear shortly.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Ames opened his mouth, then closed it. “My +taxi is waiting at the door,” he said quietly, as he +picked up his rain-coat. “I warned the hotel +manager that the police were not to be notified +until I gave permission. Even the murder is of +secondary importance to finding a clue to the +damned traitor who is going to sell those harbour +plans!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A human life, to me, is a wonderful thing,” +murmured Colton, as he slipped into his overcoat +and took the thin cane that gave its messages to his +supersensitive finger-tips. There was unconscious +rebuke in his tone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>It was not until they were in the taxi, well on their +way down, that the silence was broken. Then +Ames spoke again. “I’ll frankly admit that the +murder is a most wonderful piece of work. I went +over every inch of the rooms while Gorski was +gibbering. The door is absolutely the only entrance, +and I know they looked over the apartment pretty +thoroughly. Gorski could not have done it, even +if he had the nerve. I heard his wife answer him. +I couldn’t see a thing!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>In the darkness Colton nodded. “I don’t think +this will be a case where eyes will be of much use,” +he said quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The taxi stopped at the entrance of the big hotel, +and they went through the lobby without exciting +comment or receiving a single stare. The news of the +murder had not been allowed to get downstairs. +But a man lounging, half asleep, in a leather chair, +made a slight signal that Ames understood. The +<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>secret-service agents had covered the hotel, and +were working in a dozen different places.</p> + +<p class='c008'>As the three men entered the Gorski apartment, +Monsieur Gorski rose from his chair with a half-suppressed +scream of rage. “Murderer!” he +hissed, in French. “Murderer!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A heavy hand forced him back, and an apologetic +voice came to the ears of Thornley Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He’s been ravin’ that way for an hour, Mister +Colton,” put in the red-faced man at Gorski’s side.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Good morning, Joe,” Colton greeted the house +detective.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The white-faced manager of the hotel, who had +stood back, nervously biting his finger-nails, came +forward. “We must notify the police, Mr. Ames,” +he protested. “I have obeyed your instructions, +but if they ever know―⁠―” The manager left +unspoken the horrible possibilities, but his whole +manner cried them aloud.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You can notify them in a very few minutes, +Mr. Jones,” the blind man’s voice cut in curtly. +He went to the side of the dead woman unerringly. +A faint flush seemed to mount to his pale cheeks; +his thin nostrils quivered like those of a hound on +the scent. Almost reverently he touched the cheek +of Hedwig Gorski. His fingers, light as wind-blown +thistledown, brushed the beautiful cold skin under +the eyes, then down to the throat, stopping short +before reaching the five finger-marks of gold that +were deep in the flesh. The gilded glove was on the +table, where it had fallen as soon as Gorski had +touched it. The blind man seemed not even aware +of its existence.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Have you a glass, Mr. Ames?” asked the +problemist, and there was unintentional curtness +in his tone. Thornley Colton’s whole mind was on +the case before him; nothing else existed.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>The secret agent took a magnifying glass from +his pocket.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Look at the gilt finger-prints!” ordered the +blind man, as his two hands lifted the woman’s +arms. “Are the prints cleanly cut, sharp?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Not a single blur!” announced Ames, raising +his eyes. “She never moved a muscle after those +fingers clutched her throat.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ah!” Quiet triumph was in the blind man’s +voice. “Madame Gorski was poisoned!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Poisoned!” It seemed that every one in the +room echoed it. The clutched glove at the throat, +the deep graven finger-prints of gilt had seemed +to point to but one thing.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. No hand of that size could have sufficient +strength to keep the woman from moving and +blurring the gilt prints that were put there with +another gilt glove worn on the hand of the murderer. +The wearer of the gilt glove would not overlook a +detail. He probably carried the other glove in a +box so that its shape would not be lost, and fitted +it to the prints after. It is the usual way.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The bottle and the glass!” Ames took a step +nearer, but Colton’s hand picked up the glass beside +the tall wine-bottle. He stepped away from the +table, and raised the glass to his lips; held it there +for several seconds.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hedwig Gorski did not drink from this glass!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Why? How do you know that?” Ames +gasped it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because it was put there by the man whose +gloved hand made those marks on Madame Gorski’s +throat after she was dead.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Bah!” The expletive came in a snarling sneer +from the dead woman’s husband. “You think my +wonderful Hedwig a fool? She would drink of no +wine that had been unguarded all evening! I heard +<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>her in the bathroom washing the glass for one, two, +three minutes. If she drank she drank fresh water.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How long after you heard the water running +did she answer you?” asked Colton; and even +in his sightless eyes there seemed to come a light.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Five, six, seven, ten minutes. Ten minutes,” +repeated the husband, with sullen positiveness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“As long as that?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where is the bathroom, Sydney?” snapped +Colton. The muscles under the skin of his lean jaws +played back and forth. He was tense as a hound +in leash.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Five steps to the right, half turn,” Sydney +answered mechanically, his eyes judging the distance +instantly because of years of practice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton darted inside. He turned on the hot water +and bent down so that his face was not an inch +away from the running stream. He did the same +thing when he had turned the cold-water tap.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The devilish ingenuity of it!” They heard him +mutter as he straightened up.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What is it?” Again Ames asked the question. +Student of men as his work had made him, Ames had +realised, minutes before, that he was in the presence +of a man who would lead always; he understood +that he was but a pupil before a master.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“They knew Madame Gorski was too clever to +be poisoned in any ordinary way. They knew that +she would even suspect the presence of poison in an +empty glass, and would wash any glass, under the +hot-water tap, before she drank, because the heat +would dissolve any poison. They knew, also, that +if she wanted a drink it would be of cold water, fresh +from the tap. The poison, a paste of peculiar odour +that my keen sense of smell instantly detected, is +smeared on the inside of the cold-water faucet. The +<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>minute it was turned, the stream that flowed was +almost pure poison!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Good God!” came the horror-stricken voice of +the hotel manager.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But there must have been some one here to +make those marks and leave the gilded glove,” put +in Ames.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where is the clothes-closet?” Colton asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The secret agent hurried into the bedroom that +adjoined the room of death. Colton was at his heels, +the slim, hollow cane locating every piece of furniture +as he passed. Ames opened the door of a closet +full of clothes, and stepped inside. Colton stood at +the threshold, his head bent forward, apparently +peering intently into the depths of the closet.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Another?” he asked curtly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>In the other bedroom was a huge wardrobe. Ames +opened it, and again the blind man seemed to look +into every corner of it. “The murderer hid in there +behind the clothes! Take some of them out and +you’ll find flecks of gilt from the glove he wore!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The secret agent grabbed an armful and threw +them on the bed, with no regard for their mussing. +He pawed them over. His eyes found what they +sought, and he uttered a shout of triumph. “Here +they are! On the Inverness and this black evening +gown!” Then awe came to his voice. “How did +you know that?” he asked. “How could you +know it—and blind?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because I am blind. Because my other senses +are abnormally developed to recompense the loss +of sight. I knew the murderer had hidden in the +closet; I knew the gilt from the glove he wore on +his hand would come off on the clothes that concealed +him, just as I knew the glass on the table +was not the one Madame Gorski had used, and just +as I knew the crushed glove was at her feet in the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>restaurant—because I have a sense of smell that is +more than doubly acute. Wherever there is gilt +there is banana oil. It is always used in gilding, +and its odour is unmistakable. I knew of the men +of the Gilded Glove, and I suspected that Madame +Gorski feared it. When my nostrils caught the +odour and located it at the floor beside her chair, +I knew instantly what it meant. I covered it with +the napkin so that people would not stare. I +wanted her to see it so that she might be warned. +The glass on the table has the banana-oil odour +because the murderer placed it there with the hand +that still smelled of the oil with which the soft kid +of the glove had become saturated. The smell was +also in the wardrobe. Simple, isn’t it?” A mirthless +smile curved his thin lips. Thornley Colton +could not forget that in the next room was the body +of the woman killed by the hand that left its trail +so faintly that only his blindness enabled him to +follow it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where are the windows?” Colton asked +sharply, before any one had a chance to say a word.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“In the next room, overlooking the street.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Show them to me.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Ames hurried back to the sitting-room. The hotel +manager still bit his finger-nails. The husband of +the woman who was dead had buried his face in his +hands, and was sobbing. The eyes of the hotel +detective were fixed on Colton, following his every +movement, in them a look of wondering admiration.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man’s feeling fingers examined every +inch of the casements that overlooked busy Broadway, +thirteen storeys below. “Nothing here,” he +said, when he had finished. “There must be another +window!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Only a small one, in the bathroom, that overlooks +an air-shaft,” the secret agent informed him.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>Colton turned and darted into the bathroom. +“This is the one!” Once more his exploring fingers +went over every inch.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But that hasn’t been touched. Not a screw has +been loosened,” declared Ames positively.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No, there hasn’t been a screw touched. The +murderer was too clever for that, but he wasn’t +clever enough to get the banana-oil smell from his +fingers. The entire pane was taken out by cutting +away the putty, and probably put back with +triangular tin tacks that would never be noticed +through the frosted glass.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s a mighty small opening,” Ames said +slowly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The murderer must have been small, and as +active as a cat. Also―⁠―” Colton did not finish; he +stepped out of the bathroom. “Who has the rooms +directly over this one?” he asked the manager.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“They have no occupants yet,” hesitated the +nervous Mr. Jones.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“When were they coming? Who were they?” +The questions came sharply, crisply.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A couple from Philadelphia, who telegraphed +to have them reserved. They had occupied them +once before, and liked them.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Clever,” muttered the blind man. “They +wouldn’t take a chance of occupying them, but +were going to see to it that they were empty when +wanted. Let’s look at them.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But what am I going to do?” began the +nerve-frayed manager. “The police―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Notify them.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton gave the permission grimly; then a look +of compassion came to his face as he seemed aware +of the presence of Monsieur Gorski for the first time. +He took a step toward him; then halted. He could +do nothing—now.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>“Joe?” he said softly. The house detective +glanced at the inert figure of the man, and came +forward. “When the police come, let them arrest +Gorski,” Colton whispered. “He will be safe in +their hands, and God knows he isn’t safe from that +band of gilt-handed devils anywhere else. It will +only be a short time before the real murderer is +found.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The house detective nodded. “It’ll be best that +way,” he admitted.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Show us the rooms!” ordered Colton; then, +as the manager hesitated: “Let Joe telephone +police headquarters from here,” he advised shortly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>With Ames and Sydney at his heels, he followed +the manager to the floor above. The minute the +lights were snapped on in the apartment, Ames ran +to the open bathroom window. In a heap on the +floor under it was a thin, strong rope. Beside it +were fragments of what had been a wine flask, and +an empty pasteboard box, with the inside smeared +with gilt—the one <a id='tn-giltglove'></a>in which the gilt glove found at +the woman’s throat had been carried to prevent its +handling. And under the bath-tub was thrown +another glove of gilt, with most of the gold worn +off the inside of the fingers.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Good Lord!” gasped Ames eagerly. “There’s +clues enough here!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Too many!” declared Colton tersely. He +turned to the manager. “Who has the apartments +opposite this?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A German family,” the head of the hotel +answered, as a pupil to a teacher.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How many?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Three. A big, bearded man and his wife, and +a gawky boy. They’ve been here a week.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The boy! Describe him!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Well,” began the manager nervously. “He’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>about seventeen, I should judge, but small. He’s +awkward, and speaks the rottenest English I ever +heard in the darndest, squeakiest voice. Seems +to like to listen to people, though, and he’s +always sitting around the lobby gaping at the +guests.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I want to see him!” Colton’s voice had a new +note, dominant, compelling.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“At this hour?” stammered the manager.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Now!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Ames, attracted by the tone and the words, came +from the bathroom.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What is it?” he asked eagerly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The man who murdered Madame Gorski.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t know—now.” Thornley Colton spoke +the words over his shoulder, for he was following the +manager out of the room. A knock at the door +across the hall brought no response. Colton pushed +the manager aside, and, with his horrified protest +unheeded, opened the unlocked door. A snap of +the fights under Ames’ fingers, and the men saw +that the rooms were empty. But in the air was a +strong smell of banana oil.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The floor clerk!” demanded Colton, and the +manager went meekly to get him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Ames was everywhere, rummaging, prying with +practiced fingers into every drawer, every closet. +Each piece of clothing he pulled out was examined +with lightning-moving fingers. He picked the lock +of the big trunk, and cursed when the opened lid +revealed only cloth-wrapped stones. But in the +bottom was an overturned bottle that had once held +gilt.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The glove had just been gilded,” guessed the +secret agent.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The floor clerk entered, visibly nervous.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>“When did the German boy return here to-night?” +asked Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“About twelve-thirty.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Alone?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Were his mother and father in the room?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The floor clerk scratched his head. “I didn’t +see them come in, but I heard them giving the kid +the very devil. They raised an awful row.” He +grinned at the recollection.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ah!” The blind man’s tone held quiet satisfaction. +“And an hour or so later the boy slipped +out, saying that his mother and father were asleep, +and he was going downstairs to watch the people +for a while.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” There was amazement written all over +the hotel clerk’s face.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton turned to face Ames. “The bird has +flown,” he said quietly. “He is the one who entered +Madame Gorski’s rooms, put the poison in the tap +and the glove at her throat. For a week the three +have been waiting their opportunity. To-night all +was ready. The father and mother left early in the +evening, and did not return. They, or another +accomplice, dropped the glove at Madame Gorski’s +chair in passing, expecting her to look down and see +it. The waiter probably kicked it so near her chair +that she couldn’t have noticed it if the smell of the +banana oil hadn’t made me find it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the clerk heard the father and mother +talking?” protested Ames. “He didn’t see them +go out, and,” he added, “there are several of my +men around who would have stopped them instantly.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No one left that room but the boy!” There +was no gainsaying the positiveness in the floor +clerk’s tone.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>The grim smile came again to Thornley Colton’s +lips. “When I learned that Madame Gorski had +answered her husband <em>ten minutes</em> after he had heard +the water running, and she must have taken the +poison, I began to suspect the true facts. A poison +that left no signs of agony must have killed quickly +and painlessly. It wasn’t her voice monsieur heard +at all! It was the voice of a wonderful mimic; +the mimic who made the floor clerk believe that +his mother and father were scolding him in this +room. And who would stop a gawky German +boy? You have his description. Put your men at +work.” He rose. “Come, Sydney, it is time for +breakfast.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The secret agent took his hand and shook it +fervently. “I can’t tell you how I thank you,” he +said, and there was genuine feeling in his voice. +“But I will see that Washington recognises this +night’s work of yours.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Once more the mirthless smile that had been in +evidence so often that night came to his lips. “I +want no recognition,” he said slowly. “I merely +want to avenge the death of the most wonderful +woman I ever met. There is nothing half so precious +as the life of a woman, or a child.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He bowed gravely. Silently he and Sydney +walked to the elevator and into the lobby. Halfway +out Thornley Colton stopped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I want to telephone the house, Sydney. There’s +a foolish fear in my mind that I can’t throw off.” +He went into the telephone-booth. When he +emerged a minute later, there was a look on his +face that Sydney Thames had never seen before; +a look terrible in its earnestness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you believe in presentiments, Sydney?” +The blind man’s voice was calm, even. He gave +his secretary no chance to answer. “I have just +<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>had one come true. John found five finger-smudges +of gold on the white table-cloth in the dining-room, +and Shrimp has disappeared absolutely!”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>III.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Thornley Colton paced the floor of his library +with long, tigerish strides. His head was bowed, +and over his eyes the lines of concentration had +deepened in the hours of the long day. His fingers +touched the face of the crystalless watch in his +pocket.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Three o’clock,” he muttered. He turned to the +desk and its telephone; stretched forth a hand, +withdrew it, and shook his head. Again his strides +covered the length of the room; across and back, +across and back.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He lifted his head eagerly—lowered it. The steps +his superkeen ears had heard were only those of +Sydney Thames, as he left his bedroom on the +floor above.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Any news yet, Thorn?” asked the apple-cheeked +secretary as he entered. The blind man +shook his head.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nothing,” he said quietly. He took a half-turn +around the room, then suddenly wheeled to face +the silent Thames. “If anything happens to that +boy, Sydney, I swear to God I’ll punish those +responsible!” The voice, always so calm, so unstirred +by any inner feeling, now trembled with +fierce passion. The blind man seemed to realise +that the mask he had cultivated so carefully for +years had dropped; for his tone was even as he +continued: “I thought when I took him that I +could give him the real life he had been denied. +But I understand now that I was only bringing +him to take the risks that have never caused me a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>second thought. I realise now the dozens of times +I have sent him into places of danger, merely to +satisfy my own conceit; to enable me to beat some +one else on a baffling case. Now he is gone! All +my vaunted powers are useless, and I’m as much +at sea as the veriest tyro. A problemist? I!” +His voice vibrated with scorn and self-denunciation.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You are in no way to blame!” defended +Sydney Thames instantly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton turned again on his heel. “I’m as guilty +as hell!” he declared vehemently. “Why do you +suppose John or the other servants heard no noise? +Do you think it was because the man who murdered +Madame Gorski, the man who made those glove +prints downstairs, overcame Shrimp so easily and +so quietly? No! It was because of the training +I have given the boy; training to be instantly on +the alert to follow, to shadow, to discover; training +that no boy should have had. Shrimp, sent +brusquely to bed by me, couldn’t sleep. What boy +could? But I didn’t understand. I only looked +at it from my side. He probably heard the man +who entered. Instead of raising an alarm as a +normal person would, he probably followed him +outside. Then―⁠―” His hands spread wide before +him in a gesture of helplessness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>This was a side of Thornley Colton that Sydney +Thames had never seen before; a new side, a human +side. He understood now the deep love for the +undersized, red-haired boy with the twisted nose +that was in the heart of the blind man. He hadn’t +understood the depths of Colton’s feelings when the +blind man had gone through the house calmly when +they returned to search for clues. He hadn’t suspected +that there was anything but the cold, analytical +love of a problem in the cool voice that had put +ten thousand police in the big city on the trail of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>the missing boy. Nor had he understood the cool +way Thornley Colton had directed Ames and his +squad of underground diplomatic workers to rake +the city with a fine-tooth comb for the murderer of +Hedwig Gorski. No, he hadn’t understood then. +Through it all Colton had been the same dominant, +emotionless machine, directing, suggesting, issuing +curt orders.</p> + +<p class='c008'>But the hours of inaction had done their work. +For the first time in his life the problemist was +completely at sea. The signs he had read so unerringly +a hundred times before; signs that were +usually hidden from men of eyes, were missing in +this new development of the Gorski case. The man +who had left the finger-prints of the gilded glove had +apparently entered with a key, for there was not a +scratch on a window or door. He had touched +nothing but the white table-cloth, for there was not +a trace of the banana oil anywhere else. There was +nothing, absolutely nothing, to tell a fact about the +disappearance of The Fee. He was gone. That +was all. And Thornley Colton could do nothing but +wait. His blindness made him helpless now.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The telephone-bell rang, and Colton sprang to +answer it. The eager expression died from his face +as the voice of the secret agent came over the wire.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No trace of the boy yet—Ah!—A bundle of +manuscript music addressed to Madame Gorski at +the post-office?—No word?—Yes, bring it up to +the house. I think it will fit a theory I have been +constructing for some time. Good-bye.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He hung up the receiver wearily, and his voice +was tired as he spoke to Sydney Thames. “Not a +word,” he said slowly. “Ames is wholly engrossed +with the search for those harbour-mine plans. That +is the big thing to him. The murder of Madame +Gorski and the disappearance of Shrimp are only +<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>incidents.” He resumed his pacing of the room. +“It’s another case like that of the Money Machines, +Sydney. Human life and happiness are pushed +aside as unimportant because of a few papers and +figures in lifeless ink.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames silently withdrew. He knew that +the man who had picked him up, as a bundle of dirty +baby-clothes, on the banks of the English river that +had given him the only name he ever knew, wanted +to be alone. So he left him to his tireless pacing +while the wonderful brain behind the high forehead +figured each step in the problem; aligning motives; +testing theories.</p> + +<p class='c008'>When the front-door bell announced the coming +of Ames, Colton seated himself at the desk, and when +the secret agent entered there was no inkling of the +thoughts in the mind of the blind man.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There’s absolutely nothing in this,” began Ames +apologetically, as he laid the thick envelope on the +desk. “It’s just music, poor stuff, too. Probably +written by some sentimental amateur who has read +of Madame Gorski and her recitals, and wants a +criticism.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Such persons usually inclose a long letter of +pleading,” remarked Colton dryly, as he took the +thin sheets from the big envelope and ran his supersensitive +finger-tips over the back of the paper to +feel the indentations of the pen. “You have no trace +of the boy, yet?” His tone was almost uninterested, +and his finger-tips still brushed the back of the +music sheet.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No.” Ames shook his head. “The men are +combing the city. Finding the boy means finding +those harbour-mine plans, probably.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton’s lips tightened. “No, it doesn’t,” he said +quietly. “These are the plans of the location of every +electrically-operated mine in the harbour and bay.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>“<em>What!</em>” Ames fairly shouted the word as he +leaped to his feet. He jumped to the desk and +picked up one of the manuscript sheets Colton had +examined and laid aside. As he stared, the expression +of incredulity gave way to one of bewildered +puzzlement. “What do you mean?” he demanded. +“There is nothing concealed here. This +is straight music.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It would contain some horrible discords if you +tried to play it, I imagine, though it was done by a +man who has some knowledge of composing. But, +as you said before, any one with <em>eyes</em> would put +that down as mere amateurishness. Eyes are the +greatest handicap pure eliminative reasoning has. +For weeks you have watched Madame Gorski. You +have had men at her <span lang="fr"><i>musicales</i></span>, and have attended +them yourself, no doubt. To you those wonderful +affairs were merely a cloak the woman had assembled +to hide her real purpose for being here. To me they +were something else. They were part of a carefully +thought-out plan. She knew that you were watching +her. She knew that every person who approached +her and every bit of her mail would be examined. +But who would suspect a dozen sheets of music +manuscript? Who but a blind man!” The faint +colour of excitement was in his cheeks, the lean, +cleft jaw was set. “See!” He turned over the +sheet he had examined last. “Every sheet is written +in five flats, yet in this page alone there are more +than a dozen sharp accidentals. Three notes out of +five must be played on the black keys. Every sharp +and flat on every sheet denotes the placement of a +blind mine! Look!” He snatched up a pencil from +the desk, located the middle bar in the top staff +with his finger-tip, and drew down the paper a wide, +curving line, following the course of his feeling +finger, to a measure in the lower right-hand corner. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>“Notice,” he observed quietly, “that not one of the +measures the pencil has touched contains either a +sharp or a flat.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The secret naval lane through the outer +harbour,” whispered Ames, and in his voice was the +awe that had been there once before.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” Thornley Colton leaned back in his chair. +“You know that the harbour is laid out in half-mile +squares, subdivided by smaller squares of two-hundred-and-eighty-yard +mine placements. Take +the sheets numerically, and draw perpendicular +parallel lines. Each one of these will represent the +two-hundred-and-eighty-yard square. The measures +of the treble and bass clefs placed directly under each +other will make the half-mile squares. The sheets +lettered A, B, C should be laid from left to right, I +imagine, to give the anchorage width. I think a +line following the staccato notes will give the rough +shore-line necessary.” He lighted a cigarette, and +his sightless eyes were apparently fixed on the +ceiling, his thoughts far away.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Ames lifted his eyes from the papers to the +impassive face of the blind man. “My God, Mr. +Colton!” he cried, and his voice shook with feeling. +“Do you realise what you’ve done? Do you understand +that in ten minutes you have accomplished +a thing that has baulked every secret agent in the +country for months? Do you know that you have +kept in the hands of this country the greatest naval +secret we possess”—his voice choked—“the secret +I was about to let slip through my fingers? It +means―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A wave of the problemist’s hand stopped him. +“It means that my boy is missing, perhaps dead,” +the blind man said dispassionately. “It means +that the most wonderful woman I ever knew is +dead. That is all.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>A look of pity came to the face of the secret agent. +“We will do all we can,” he assured. “We will +find the boy just as surely as we will find the traitor +who is responsible for these.” He picked up the +precious sheets, and put them carefully in his pocket, +and buttoned his coat.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Finding the traitor should be comparatively +easy,” Colton told him. “Men who have the +knowledge of music composition necessary to put +that together are not common in the war department.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Ames picked up his hat and held out his hand. +“Believe me, Mr. Colton, Washington will not +forget this work of yours. I will let you know the +instant we hear anything. Good day!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton sat quiet while the secret agent and Sydney +Thames left the room. There was no hope in his +heart. By his showing the government agent the +secret of the music he had filled his mind with +thoughts of finding the man who was responsible. +Every effort of the secret agents would be in that +direction now. What was a little, red-headed kid +beside a traitor who would betray his country? +Nothing—to the men who were paid to guard the +secrets of state.</p> + +<p class='c008'>By silence Colton could have kept the trained +government-men on the trail of the boy he loved. +But he had given all that was in him to solve the +puzzle of the music. The secret agents would go +on that track now. The police could do nothing +against men like those of the Gilded Glove. They +had been content to arrest Monsieur Gorski; they +had proclaimed in every morning-paper that he was +the murderer. They were already lying back on their +laurels, smug, complacent. No, there was no one +but the blind man to find The Fee!</p> + +<p class='c008'>The long hours of the afternoon passed. Still +<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>Thornley Colton sat in the arm-chair, immovable. +From time to time Sydney Thames came to the +doorway, looked in, and went away. He knew that +the problemist did not want to be disturbed. And +the blind man’s mind through the hours was the +mind of the men who were behind the gilded glove. +His mind worked as their minds would work; +planning out each step they would take in their +next move; leading off into tangents that made +necessary the discarding of entire trains of thought. +Patiently he would start again at the beginning. +Finally his brow cleared; the rigid lip-lines softened.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It is the only way,” he murmured, and his hand +went out to the button on the desk that would +summon his automobile any hour of the day or +night. Another button brought Sydney on the run.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton sensed the unasked question and shook his +head. “No,” he anticipated. “I am going out in +the machine to get a breath of fresh air—alone.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But―⁠―” Sydney started to protest.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Alone,” repeated the blind man. “I shall not +be gone more than an hour.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames went with him to the waiting car, +and watched with anxious eyes as the stolid Irish +chauffeur whirled him away. It was less than an +hour later that the blind man returned.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Any news?” he asked of Thames, as he threw +off his hat and coat.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Headquarters report that they have gone +through every house in the Russian sections.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The one place where he would not be likely to +be,” sneered the blind man. Then weariness made +his voice heavy. “I’m going to bed, Sydney. I +don’t want to be disturbed under any circumstances. +Good-night.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He went to the bedroom that adjoined the library, +undressed, and in a few minutes was under the covers, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>sleeping peacefully. Sydney Thames shook his head +and went to his own room. It was the first time in +years he had known the blind man to miss an +evening out.</p> + +<p class='c008'>When the little clock on the mantel chimed twelve, +Thornley Colton waked immediately, got up noiselessly, +and put on his clothes, all but his collar and +tie, coat and vest. From his overcoat-pocket he +took the thing he had gone out for in the early +evening. It was a small rubber bulb with a long +rubber tube that had a curved end of hollow, red +glass. He carefully placed the bulb in his right +armpit, adjusted the tube down the length of his +arm, so that the curved end of red glass was concealed +in his half-shut right palm. He drew the coat of his +pyjamas over his shirt, and, without even removing +his shoes, crawled back under the covers.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The little clock chimed one—two. The calm, +even breathing of the blind man came regularly. +The superkeen ears caught the faint sound of an +opening door. But he did not move. Dead silence. +He heard the library-door open, and to his nostrils +came the strong odour of banana oil. His regular +breathing was the only sound that broke the stillness. +The library-door closed. Instantly, noiselessly, he +was out of bed. Seemingly with one motion he was +in his coat, and vest, and overcoat. His hand +touched the loaded automatic in his outside pocket. +He did not even wait to put on the smoked glasses +his sensitive, sightless eyes needed to protect them +from the burning light. He did not wait to pick +up the thin, hollow stick that gave its message to +his finger-tips. Nor did he pause an instant in the +library, where the smell of bananas told him that a +crushed glove of gilt had been laid on the desk. +Down the stairs he ran with steps that were as silent +as the night itself. He flung wide the front door. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>Down the street he heard an automobile door slam; +the engine barked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Was I mistaken? Was it all wrong?” ran +the bitter thought through his mind. He had staked +everything on his ability to anticipate a probable +plan of action on the part of the murderers. Then +an eager look came to his face.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Gee, Mister Colton, I’m glad yuh come!” The +piping boy’s voice came from his side.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What is it, Shrimp?” he asked tensely. +“Where have you been?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I been watchin’ them guys. I follered the one +that got in the house, an’ I know where dey hang +out. Gee, Mister Colton, dere’s a taxi.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hail it!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The shrill voice brought the cab to the curb. The +chauffeur nodded at the low-voiced instructions. In +the darkness Thornley Colton lolled back in the +cushions. On his face was a curious look of resolution, +content, victory. His wonderfully-keen ears, +trained for years to know every sound, every voice +and inflection of voice, knew that the person at his +side was not Shrimp! He had known from the +first that the voice was that of the man whose +marvellous mimicry of Hedwig Gorski’s voice had +deceived even her husband. He knew that the +man beside him was Madame Gorski’s murderer. +Blind, helpless but for the automatic pistol in his +pocket, he was allowing himself to be taken to the +men who had left their death-sentence sign on the +desk in his library; to the men who had taken the +boy he loved!</p> + +<p class='c008'>One chance in a thousand there had been, and the +blind man had grasped it eagerly. He knew that one +false move would destroy even that chance. He +had realized that hours before. He had not dared +give an inkling of his plan to a soul; he had not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>dared ask for help in the one desperate chance, for +he did not know how many keen eyes were watching. +He did not know where he was going, and he could +not risk having men who would come to his aid +shadowing him. No, the one chance in a thousand +could only be taken <em>alone</em>.</p> + +<p class='c008'>As they rode the voice chattered on, telling of +trailing the man who had left the glove-prints to a +little house in Harlem; of stealing a basement-door +key from a servant. Thornley Colton complimented +quietly and often, but his whole mind was fixed +on the street-corners the cab turned, calculating +distance, remembering directions. And he knew +they were not going near Harlem; but were in the +dark, winding side-streets of Greenwich Village.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The taxi came to a stop. “The house is three +doors down, Mister Colton. We’ll chase dis guy an’ +slide up soft.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton took a bill from his pocket, and the hand +of the murderer snatched it to pay the driver. +“Dis way,” whispered the voice, when the chauffeur +had gone. Colton felt a hand lightly touch +his elbow to guide him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Stealthily they went, keeping close to the dark +shadows of the houses. With a hiss of warning the +hand drew him against the wall of a house, seconds +after the blind man had heard the sound of approaching +footsteps. A policeman passed, swinging +his stick and whistling softly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Come on!” The hand pulled him forward +and down an area-way. He heard a handle turn and +an iron-grille door open rustily. A key in the hand +of his guide opened another door, and he felt the +carpet of the basement-hall under his feet as the +door closed behind him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Wait here a minute, Mister Colton,” came the +whisper at his side. “I want a scout ’round a little.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>Obediently the blind man stood in the darkness. +He heard the light, almost soundless footsteps +retreating until they died away somewhere in the +depths of the house. Like a flash he whirled to the +door. His fingers found the catch, sprung it back. +The way to escape was open! Then he crept forward +into the darkness, every nerve strained to catch the +slightest warning sound. From the floor above came +the hoarse murmur of voices, but even his wonderful +ears could not distinguish words. Then his lips +tautened to a thin, straight line. A moan, faint, +quavering, came from the darkness. He knew +instantly that it was the voice of the boy he had +come to find. He had heard it before, years ago, +when the boy had tossed on his bed and dreamed +horrid dreams of his murdered mother and his +murderer father, from whom Thornley Colton had +taken him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Only a few minutes more, kiddie,” he breathed, +then he darted back to the place his guide had left +him. His superkeen ears had warned him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Here upstairs playin’ cards an’ half drunk,” +whispered the piping voice so like that of Shrimp. +“Got a gun?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton knew that the man was leaning +forward, watching him in the darkness, but his +hand touched the pocket that contained the heavy +pistol, and he nodded. The lips of the blind man +set even grimmer as he heard the sharp breath-intake +of satisfaction. So the thousandth chance +demanded that he lose even the pistol! Well, he +would play the game according to their own set rules.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Up the stairs he followed at the heels of his leader, +his brain automatically counting the steps and turns, +as it had been taught to do years before. The +guide stopped. Colton could hear the faint murmur +of voices.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>“Dere’s where dey are!” whispered the voice. +“Get in before dey know where dey’s at.” The +blind man’s hand fumbled for the door-handle. He +flung the door wide.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The bright lights of the room stung his naked +eyeballs like a million swords of living fire; his +hands went involuntarily to shield them. Instantly +he felt the fingers of the man who had guided him +dive toward his pocket, snatch out the pistol.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Welcome, Herr Colton!” The voice came from +in front of him in heavy German, and each word +was a sneer. “Fool!” grated the voice. “Into +our hands like a baby you come. Three pistols are +pointed at your heart! Sit down!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton groped forward blindly, his hand found a +chair, his fingers told him that it was set close to a +heavy oak table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Goot!” grunted the man who had spoken. +Colton knew that he was sitting directly in front of +him, across the table. The blind man’s ears also +informed him that on either side of the voice was +another man. Three against one! Three with +loaded pistols against an unarmed man who was +blind!</p> + +<p class='c008'>The door closed softly, and Colton knew that the +man who had led him was gone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where’s my boy?” demanded the problemist +suddenly, fiercely. “Where is he!” He leaned +across the table, and the heavy voice commanded +him to sit back. But Thornley Colton had learned +the table’s width; a powerful lift of his knee +had told him of its weight. That table was his +thousandth chance! He slumped back in his chair, +his left hand protecting his burning eyes, his right +hand half closed on the arm of his chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You have offended the Gilded Glove,” began the +rumbling German voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>“I understand Russian!” broke in the blind +man curtly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man at the right drew in his breath sharply. +Colton heard the man at the left tilt his chair until +its back touched a wall.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The Gilded Glove has always been sacred to +traitors,” the voice went on, and the language was +Russian. “But you have learned things that men +with eyes would never have learned. We have +watched you with Hedwig Gorski, and we knew that +you knew. We know that you discovered the secret +written in the music. But for you, that secret would +have been our secret. The clutching fingers of the +Long Arm are always reaching for those who fight the +Little Father. You fell into our trap. You are a +brave man. Your hands do not shake, nor does your +body tremble. Your death will be an easy death.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thanks.” The word came laconically from the +blind man, but every nerve, every sense was alert +as he mentally pictured the room and its occupants. +He knew that the heavy table must be less than +three feet from the wall. The tilted chair had told +him that. Even the quiet breathing of the men +located them for the blind man, who was waiting +the thousandth chance.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This chamber is sound-proof. Its secrets are +always secrets,” continued the voice. “We could +riddle you with bullets, and the world would be +none the wiser. But we will be merciful.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton heard the click of a bottle-neck on a glass, +heard the gurgle of the flowing wine, then the glass +was pushed across the table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Drink!” ordered the harsh voice. “It is the +poison that killed Hedwig Gorski; swift, powerful, +painless. Drink!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton drew back, a look of horror on +his face.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>“That, or the bullets which do not kill painlessly!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The problemist’s right hand reached blindly for +the glass. His palm almost tipped it as it covered the +top for an instant; then his fingers lifted it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You will not harm my boy?” he asked, and +there was a queer chokiness in his voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Drink!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You will not harm my boy?” The voice was +pleading.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I shall count three!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Slowly, his hands shaking so that it required both +of them to keep the drink from spilling. Thornley +Colton lifted the glass to his lips. Six eyes watched +him, but the nervousness seemed to pass as the +fire of the wine entered his veins. He set down +the empty glass and wiped his lips with his handkerchief. +Narrowly the men watched him. A +hectic flush seemed to mount the pale cheeks; the +lean, cleft jaw was set rigidly. Suddenly Thornley +Colton bent forward across the table; his left hand +gripping its edge. And his voice came to their ears +like the snap of a steel cable.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“For every minute of pain you have caused the +boy I will make you suffer hours of agony!” he +swore passionately. The voice became dull, then, +the words came slowly, haltingly. “Hours—hours—for +my boy’s—hours—hours―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The half-closed right fist dropped to his chair +arm; the left hand dropped limply to his side; +his body convulsively turned in the chair so that his +hip was at the table-edge; the eyes stared straight +ahead.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It has done its work—as always,” whispered +the man at the left.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A pity we could not make of him another +Boris!” said the man at the right.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>“Put away the needless pistols!” commanded +the heavy voice. “Darkness for the sign!” The +hand that had held the pistol reached back of him. +The fingers pulled a switch, and the lights went out. +The door opened softly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>From the darkness a gilded hand came slowly, +certainly. The fingers touched the throat of the +blind man―⁠―</p> + +<p class='c008'>With every ounce of strength in his powerful body, +Thornley Colton sent the table crashing on the three +men, pinning them like rats in the narrow space +their chairs had occupied, knocking the breath from +them, half stunning them. So instantaneously that +it seemed part of the same lightning movement the +blind man’s hand darted out to grasp the invisible +arm that held the gilded glove. A snapping jerk, +and Madame Gorski’s murderer was on his knees. +Colton’s right fist went out; the curved glass tube +in his palm that had sucked up the wine to the bulb +in his arm-pit while his hands had concealed the +wineglass, shattered with the impact, cutting his +tender palm in a dozen places. A choking gurgle +came from the torn lips of the murderer, and the +problemist knew that the sudden movement of his +right arm had sent a spurting stream of the poison +down the throat of the mimic. He let the lax body +slide to the floor. A groan came from one of the +pinned-down men. It was only a matter of seconds +now.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The steps of a running man sounded in the hall-way. +The superkeen ears of the problemist located +them in the direction of the basement-stairs, and he +realised that the approaching man must have been +on the lower floor guarding the boy. That would +leave the coast clear! He darted across the room; +crouched beside the door. The man who had +groaned cursed jerkingly, and one of the heavy +<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>chairs creaked as he tried to writhe from under the +big table. A hoarse growl came from the doorway. +Like a cat, crouching, Thornley Colton spun on the +balls of his feet and caught the man around the +knees. A wrestler’s twist of his body, and the +new comer went down. The problemist pulled the +door closed with a slam and jumped into the +hall-way.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A shot sounded in the room, and the blind man’s +lips curved in a grim smile. The way to escape was +clear! In the darkness of the closed room the men +of the Gilded Glove would be for precious minutes +wholly at sea; in the darkness of the halls, Colton +was at home—himself. He knew that he had gained +several minutes now, because in the dark and the +confusion of returning senses the men would not +realise that he had escaped; every suspicious +sound made by one of them would mean, to the +others’ bewildered brains, the location of the +enemy.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton ran down the hall noiselessly; every nerve, +every faculty alert to warn him of danger before a +man with eyes would ever suspect its presence. His +brain counted the steps without conscious effort. +At the top of the basement-stairs he paused a +second. From the room came a crash, and he knew +the crushing weight of the table had been lifted. +Then another shot. They were fighting among +themselves in the darkness! Down the basement-stairs +he ran. His wonderful ears told him that no +other guard was there.</p> + +<p class='c008'>His hand brushing the wall, as he hurried back +into the dark lower hall-way, located the door. He +found the bolt and slid it back. From the corner +came a faint moan. In a single stride he was across +the floor. He leaned over a pile of blankets in the +corner, and his hand brushed the face of the boy; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>his fingers felt the warm stickiness of the hair, and +he cursed the men upstairs.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Shrimp!” he called softly. The boy stirred, +and his eyes opened as Thornley Colton picked him +up tenderly in his strong arms.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I fought ’em like—the very dickens!” Shrimp’s +voice was scarcely a whisper, but it took every bit +of the gameness in the small body to make it even +that. “They blackjacked me.” His body went +limp.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton ran with his burden down the dark hall +to the front door. The confusion upstairs had +ceased. He heard a door slam; a rumbling Russian +curse; running footsteps. The minutes he had +counted on had become seconds again! He +jerked open the door he had unlatched, swung +back the iron grille, and took a great gulp of the +cool night air; let the wind fan his still-burning +eyeballs. Running footsteps sounded; a dozen of +them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Colton! My God, Colton!” It was the voice +of Ames; and there were men with him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“In the house with the open basement-door!” +gasped Colton, and in his voice was a prayer of +thankfulness for the thousandth chance. “The +whole crowd!” he finished.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The running footsteps sounded once more. Ames +lingered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The taxi-driver put us wise,” he jerked out. +“He knew the boy, and realised there was something +wrong when the man with you imitated his +voice. Reported it to the police. I got the tip +instantly. Called up your house, and Thames found +you gone. I got half a dozen of my men here in +taxis.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where are the cabs?” snapped Colton. “I +want one. My boy is hurt!”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>“Around the corner.” Ames whistled shrilly. +“Here comes one. I’ve got to be with my men!” +He was gone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton laid the boy gently on the cushions, and, +as the taxi started uptown, Shrimp’s eyes fluttered +open. “Gee!” he murmured faintly. “I got m’ +real detective work—that—time—assaults—blackjacks―⁠―” +The voice died as unconsciousness +came again.</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>IV.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>The afternoon sun came slantingly through the +great glass windows, lighting the happy face of the +blind man and the pale, smiling face of The Fee, as +he lay in bed, his head swathed in bandages, one arm +in a sling.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I was goin’ round, ’cause I couldn’t sleep, an’ +I heard somebody open the front door”—Shrimp +scowled as his voice became weak, and set his teeth +for a moment. “I thought it was you. Then I +seen his whole head was covered with a black thing, +an’ there was black gloves on his hands, an’ he +didn’t wear no shoes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton nodded. “So that he could not be seen, +nor heard, in the darkness. The hood covered everything +but his eyes and lips; the latter were left free +so that he could mimic a voice.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I watched him sneak into the library an’ come +out. Then I beat it down the backstairs, an’ when +he got in his automobile I was hangin’ on the back. +He musta knew I was there all the time, but he +never let on. I was scoutin’ ’round the house when +three of ’em jumped me. I guess they knocked me +out good, for it was a long time ’fore I come round. +Then a guy I couldn’t see came in the dark room +where I was an’ started knockin’ you. I told him +where he stood, all right.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>“It was the mimic,” Colton explained. “He +wanted to learn every tone of your voice.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The government agents got every one of them,” +put in Sydney unnecessarily.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, and the house has been the scene of many +crimes. Ames and his men found a lot of valuable +papers, together with the ringleaders of the Gilded +Glove. Jones, of the hotel, identified the bearded +man who did all the talking as the German husband +who had the rooms. The chair arms didn’t protect +him very much from the falling table, and his three +broken ribs will keep him quiet for a while. The one +who posed as his wife, and the third man at the table, +have bruises and contusions enough to last them a +lifetime. The murderer of Hedwig Gorski”—Thornley +Colton paused a minute and went on—“was +brought around all right by the ambulance +surgeon; only a little of the poison went down +his throat; but he told his story. He was a +wonderful boy mimic fifteen years ago. Any sound, +any voice was as easy for him to learn as names +would be to you and me. Then the Gilded +Glove got him. What devilish method they used +I don’t know, but they made him their tool. Boris +Strevelski forgot that he had ever been anything +but a dealer of death to traitors; that he was +the Hammer of God was the only idea left in his +mind. But they taught him all languages, and he +picked them up as the average man would remember +names.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He worked for half an hour to get the pane of +glass from the window of the Gorski bathroom, and, +in a skin-tight suit of black silk that covered everything +but his mouth and eyes, he hid behind the coat +and dress in the closet after putting the poison in the +tap. He had on the same suit at the house. My +hands told me that.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>“But how did you know he would come here?” +asked Sydney breathlessly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I risked everything on my mental ability to +follow the workings of the Oriental mind,” Colton +said slowly. “The Caucasian mind is always content +with mere killing. But the Oriental mind must +have the significant! Think of the risk of staying +in the Gorski rooms when they knew the poison +would do its work. But to them the mere death +was only part; their whole course of thought +demanded that the sign be left.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I knew it would be the same in my case. So I +gave them no chance to leave the crushed glove +anywhere but here; and I knew they would come. +I didn’t know that they had been watching me for +weeks because of my friendship with Madame +Gorski, nor that they had gotten a duplicate key. +But I was almost at the heels of the stranger. When +he saw me I knew he would instantly think of +luring me to my death. The sign had been left, +and death was next. I knew, also, that he would +never overlook the opportunity to mimic Shrimp’s +voice, because in the years mimicry has become a +mania with him. He slammed the door of the car +in which he came so that I would think he had +escaped. Then his playing Shrimp’s part seemed +easy and logical. What was there to do but take +me to the New York headquarters of the Gilded +Glove? Following out their mind-processes further, +I had no doubt that they would give me a chance +to drink the poison, for that, too, is a peculiar kink +of the Oriental mind. Hence my precaution. The +rest was simple.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Simple!” gasped Sydney Thames, and there +was sweat on his brow. “My God, Thorn, think +of you, <em>blind</em>, risking yourself alone with those +men.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>“My blindness was my greatest ally there,” +smiled Colton faintly. “The instant darkness +came they were helpless, while I was my normal +self, which I couldn’t be in the burning light, but”—he +touched the alcohol-soaked bandage that +covered his head and eyes—“the tortures of the +Inquisition were mild beside that light on my unprotected +eyeballs.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He patted the hand of the boy gently. “And it +was Shrimp who led the secret agents, after all,” +he said quietly. “If the taxi-driver hadn’t been one +of the hundred friends he has made around the city, +there might have been another story to tell. The +men of the Gilded Glove weren’t far behind me.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The door-bell rang downstairs. “Ames again,” +commented Colton, a trifle wearily, and in a few +minutes the government agent was ushered into the +room by John, the butler.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We got everything, Mr. Colton!” he cried. +“The whole gang is cleaned up. Gorski was released +from jail to-day, and is going back to Paris. Without +his wife he will never bother any one. Even +the Gilded Glove didn’t think him worthy of their +attention. And those harbour-mine plans! A +wonderful piece of work! Placed in order under an +onion-skin paper map of the harbour, with the +staccato-note marks at certain points on the shore +line, every sharp and flat traced on the map gave, +as you said, the exact locations of the mines.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Have you found the traitor?” asked Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” Ames’s voice was sober. “His body was +found this morning in his office. The pistol he had +used was beside him. A closed incident.” Then +enthusiasm came to his tone once more. “What +you have done on this case will never be forgotten, +Mr. Colton,” he said earnestly. “It will not be +made public, of course, but the secretary of state +<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>will write you a personal letter offering you any +reward you may ask. The president himself will +tender you a position that―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton’s upraised hand stopped him. +The blind man turned his sightless eyes toward +the closed eyes of The Fee, and gently withdrew his +fingers from the clasp of the small hand. “Hush,” +he said softly. “The boy is sleeping.”</p> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span><a id='PROBLEM-SEVENTH'></a></p> +<div> + <h2 class='c005'><span class="problem-a">THE SEVENTH PROBLEM</span> <br> <br> <span class="problem-b">THE RINGING GOBLETS</span></h2> +</div> + +<h3 class='c009'>I.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>His chin resting on his chest, his hands gripping +the wide-spread leather arms of the chair, the man +stared at the log fire—fixedly, intently; as though +the ceaseless war the flames waged against the +darkness held him enthralled by its hopelessness. +The wind, whistling encouragement down the wide +chimney, caused the fire to leap upward and drive +the shadows in retreat to the farthest corner of the +library. For an instant the flames crackled their +triumph; then died down. The shadows rushed +forward, swiftly and silently, to recover the territory +they had lost. The fire sputtered its chagrin.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man in the chair shivered, though his hands +felt the warmth of the leather arms. For an instant +the hopeless look went from his eyes; his chin +lifted. Then the eyes resumed their staring at the +flames. “I won’t!” he muttered. “I won’t! +I’ll―⁠―” The thin right fist doubled; he raised +it to smite the arm of the chair. In the air it +unclenched and dropped lifelessly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There must be some way!” Hope again shone +in his eyes. The flames, apparently encouraged by +his spirit, again leaped to their fight with the +shadows. “There is!” His voice, low, passionate, +died suddenly. He jerked his head around the side +<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>of the high chair, and darted a fearful glance at a +dark corner. A trembling chill shook his body, and +his lips formed the silent words: “I mustn’t forget +<em>that</em> devilish thing!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The door opened softly, and the man in the chair +heard, but he did not move. The impassive-faced +servant came forward with soundless footsteps.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You wish anything, sir?” he asked humbly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nothing, Paul.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A bit more wood on the fire, sir?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The seated man turned his eyes back to the +glowing logs that had given up their fight with the +darkness, and whose flames no longer leaped their +defiance, but spluttered their defeat.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I think not,” came finally.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your wine, sir?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“At eight, Paul.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir. I’ll remember, sir.” The servant +bowed himself back a step, then stopped. “Miss +Nadine says as ’ow she ’opes you are quite fit this +evenin’, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A sudden draft of cold air seemed to strike the +man, for his body shook and his hands gripped +tighter on the leather arms.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Tell her I feel much better,” he lied pitifully, +moistening his dry lips with his tongue.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I will, sir.” The man bowed gravely and withdrew, +closing the door quietly behind him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silence came again to the room, broken only by +the crackle of the dying fire that gave to the haggard, +deep-lined face of the man a pink glow of health +that belied the hunted look in his eyes, and the lines +of utter hopelessness around the mouth. For +minutes he sat, immovable, swallowed in the depths +of the big leather chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The door opened again, and the sound of it brought +a new expression to his face; a curious expression +<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>of mingled joy and dread. His thin hands clenched +as if the very action were intended to brace his +whole body. Then his lips formed a tremulous smile +as the golden-haired, pink-cheeked girl ran across +the room, and flung her arms around his neck. Her +lips touched his cheek; she drew back and gazed +deep into his eyes for an instant before he lowered +them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, daddy-father,” she pleaded. “You <em>mustn’t</em> +worry so!” She seated herself on the chair-arm, +her small hand patted his shoulder. “It will all +come out right,” she whispered fondly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hush!” he breathed, and she could feel his +body tremble under her fingers.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The curs!” she said passionately, lifting her +head to look over the back of the high leather chair +and gaze into the dark corner, as her father had +done a few minutes before.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He lifted a hand and touched her lips warningly, +but she shook her head away.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s killing you, daddy-father!” There was a +sobbing catch in her voice. “You’ve grown old, +old, in the past month. Won’t you <em>please</em> let that +wonderful blind man help you? Oh, daddy-father”—both +hands were on his shoulders now; her eyes +bright with held-back tears, looked into his—“think +of what he did for Ned—and I love +you so!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No, no!” he choked. “I—he—please don’t +make me talk.” The last was a whisper, even the +girl in the arm-chair barely heard it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t care!” she cried. “I’ll―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>From the shadowed shelf over the fire-place came +the mellow chime of a clock. The girl and the man +started as though some sudden electric shock had +passed through them. Her hand clutched at his +shoulder; a sob came from her throat. The man’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>fingers picked at the leather chair-arms; his dry +lips moved mechanically as he counted the eight +strokes of the clock-bell. When the last note had +died away the girl’s hand fell lifelessly from his +shoulder; she rose to her feet.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You are going to the opera to-night, Nadine?” +he asked, trying bravely to keep the quaver from +his voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” she said steadily. She bent down to kiss +him, her hand touched his thin white hair for a +minute before she turned to go. Half-way across +the room she stopped, and her little hands clenched +at her sides as the door-handle turned softly; but +she merely bowed bravely and hurried past the +wooden-faced manservant who entered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your wine, sir?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man rubbed his hands together, as though +warming them in the glow of the logs; his face was +hidden in the shadows above.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, Paul.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>From the shadow beside the fire-place the servant +brought a small, round tabouret, and set it beside +the big chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Turn me around a bit, Paul. The light hurts +my eyes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Obediently the servant placed the big chair so +that its side was to the fire-light. The little man was +completely swallowed up in its depths. Only the +tip of one slippered foot showed in the ruddy +crimson that came under the chair. The tabouret +was in the dark at the side away from the fire.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The usual two goblets, sir?” asked the servant, +as he swung back the door of the cellaret.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, Paul, and a cigar.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man placed the two wine-filled goblets on the +small table, and a few drops of the wine spilled as +it swayed a trifle on its uneven legs.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>“Table seems a trifle wabbly, sir. Shall I put +something under the legs to steady it?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The seated man merely shook his head and +stretched forth a hand to lift one of the goblets to +his lips. Slowly he sipped it while the servant stood +patiently by with the box of cigars. In the flare of +the match, held to light the cigar he had selected, +the servant’s eyes, invisible in the shadows above, +studied every line of the haggard face. But there was +no commiseration in the studying—only satisfaction +and triumph.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That is all; I won’t need you again to-night, +Paul.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Very well, sir.” The servant bowed and withdrew.</p> + +<p class='c008'>For several minutes the smoke from the unmoving +cigar spiraled in the darkness. Then the seated man +turned in the big chair, and the ashes dropped to +his knee unheeded as he shuddered. His two hands +on the small tabouret moved it an inch toward him. +He shook his head, and moved it half an inch to the +right. The wine in the full glass was spilling, and he +poured half of it into the other goblet. Apparently +the uneven legs that caused the tabouret to teeter +back and forth bothered him, for he spent several +minutes setting it to his satisfaction. Then he +carefully placed the two goblets in the exact centre, +so that the rims touched, and leaned back in the big +leather chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>One hand showed on the arm-chair nearest the fire; +the other was in the shadow. Suddenly the two +glasses clicked together with a musical, ringing sound, +as though his hand had nervously fallen on the table +and caused it to sway. Then his shaking fingers on +the tabouret-edge caused a musical soothing jingle of +the egg-shell rims. The sound seemed to please him, +for the clink-click-tap-tap-clink kept up for minutes.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>“I won’t!” he cried suddenly, vehemently. +His trembling fingers made the wine dance in the +ringing goblets.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The hand holding the cigar rested on the chair-arm, +the fingers clenched so that the wrapper almost +crackled under their pressure.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No, no! Nadine―⁠―” The moaning voice died; +he bent forward in his chair. The slipper that +showed in the light under the chair lifted, then +dropped back to its original position. The cigar +smoke curled upward from the chair-arm, an iridescent +ribbon in the feeble glow of the darkness-defeated +logs.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Clink! Clink-clink! Tap! Tap-tap! came the +ring of the goblets on the tabouret. The clock on +the mantel ticked off minute after minute.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Softly, silently the door opened—an inch, two +inches. From the darkness of the hall outside two +eyes stared into the darkness of the room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The streamer of smoke rose steadily; the glasses +still sang their song of nervousness. Suddenly the +door opened a full half. The owner of the watching +eyes had smelled burning leather. The servant +stepped into the room, stumbled over a big chair +near the door, and swore softly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you wish anythink, sir?” It was the +respectful voice of the servant.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The smoke still ascended unwaveringly; the +music of the goblets did not cease. But no answer +came from the big chair.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The servant approached the chair on tiptoe. A +sound made him turn toward the door. It was +swinging open. He walked to it, and stopped it +before it struck the heavy bookcase, and closed +it noiselessly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you wish anythink, sir?” he whispered +again.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>The slipper still showed in the ribbon of light. +The glasses were still ringing. The cigar still burned. +The man sniffed again, then reached the side of the +chair in a single bound.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A curse escaped him; a deep curse of bafflement, +rage.</p> + +<p class='c008'><em>The chair was empty!</em></p> + +<p class='c008'>On the arm the cigar was burning the leather. +The empty slipper was just where the foot had been. +The wine still moved in the now-silent glasses. But +the man he had left a few minutes before, the man +whose nervous fingers had caused the glasses to +ring but a second before, had vanished!</p> + +<p class='c008'>Two steps took the servant across the room. A +snap, and the incandescents sprang to light. The +big chair by the door, a counterpart of the one at +the fire-place, was unmoved. Everything in the +room was as he had left it. But the man was +gone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Damn him!” muttered the fellow who had +been a servant. But he wasn’t a servant now. His +shoulders were hunched aggressively. The wooden +look had gone. In its place was tenseness, animal +strength; the muscles played back and forth under +the tightly-drawn skin of the cheek-bones.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He’s gone, chief!” he said, and his voice was +low. “How the devil he did it is more than I can +figure.” He ran to the fire-place and knelt on the +hearth, his sharp eyes studying every inch. And +as he leaned over the fire he talked: “I watched +the door every minute. His infernal nervousness +gave me the willies. I heard the glasses clink till I +got to the chair, chief—to the <em>chair</em>!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He ran to the high window, and searched every +inch of the sill and curtains, still speaking in that +level, even tone: “Get the boys out and cover +the house! Spread ’em around the block! He can’t +<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>have been gone more than ten minutes. There’s +not a damn’ crack in the wall. I know that!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>His fingers were running over the bookcases, his +eyes seeming to bore into their very depths as he +went on: “The girl’s all ready for the opera―⁠―” +His keen ears heard footsteps, and his voice changed +to an agonised wail as the girl entered: “’E’s gone, +Miss Nadine, ’e’s gone!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Gone!” she cried, staggering against the chair +near the door. “Gone!” she repeated, and her +voice was scarcely a whisper.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I smelled ’is cigar burning the leather. I +thought as ’ow ’e was asleep.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She forced her limbs to support her weight across +the floor. She looked down into the chair where the +untouched cigar still burned. The opera cloak +slipped from her shoulders unheeded as she touched +the tabouret-edge with her fingers for an instant. +The glasses clinked mockingly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Gone!” she said again. “He has gone to them—at +last!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She swayed, fell, sending the tabouret and glasses +crashing to the floor. The servant leaned over her +for an instant; then ran to the corner of the room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hear that, chief!” he whispered tensely. “Get +it? Rip out the wires when I cut ’em. There’ll be +merry hell around here in a little while!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A gleam of nickel showed in his hand as he thrust +it behind a high bookcase. Came two sharp clicks, +and as he turned toward the girl he put into his +pocket a round, black disc. It was a dictograph.</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>II.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>For two hours Nadine Nelson had sat, white-faced +but steady-voiced, as the three men questioned, +cajoled, badgered, and threatened. At her right, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>his chair within a foot of that in which she sat, was +the man who had posed as a servant. At her left +was another, just as keen-eyed and alert. Before +her sat a heavy-chinned, broad-shouldered man +whose fingers crackled the typewritten sheets as he +jerked out his questions. The girl’s eyes met his +fairly, unwaveringly. Yet she knew he was Chief +Whittson, of the United States secret service.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You know that, for months, hundreds of +thousands of dollars have been passed through the +agency of your father’s bank?” he snapped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I know nothing,” she said unemotionally.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then why did you say―⁠―” He referred to +the typewritten sheets: “‘It will all come out +right?’”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because it will,” she replied steadily.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The men at her sides snorted impatiently.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Did you know that your father was the head of +the best-organised counterfeiting gang in the +country?” jerked out the secret-service chief.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Her eyes did not flinch for an instant. “I knew +nothing.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where is your father, Miss Nelson?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I do not know.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then why did you say”—his forefinger punched +the typewritten page viciously, and in his voice was +snarled impatience—“‘he has gone to them at +last.’ Who did you mean?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I know nothing,” came the unvarying answer +she had given a hundred times before.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Why didn’t you call in the police when you +knew that your father had disappeared?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>For the first time a shade of expression came to +the girl’s face; her lips curved in contempt. “Because +I knew that the police could do no more than +the secret-service men of the United States.” There +was more than a tinge of contempt in her voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>Chief Whittson straightened back in his chair. +“Did you know that your servant was not what he +pretended to be?” he demanded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” she said defiantly. “We knew from the +first that he was a spy.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The former servant leaped to his feet, face red +with rage. “So that’s why you took it so cool, eh? +That’s why you didn’t raise the fuss I expected?” +he flared. “And you went to your own room and +locked the door to cry. And I was <em>sorry</em> for you. +Me! A wise guy! Some—clever—actress!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She shrank back before the lashing sneer in the +words.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then you knew of the dictograph?” demanded +the chief, instantly alert to take advantage of the +first signs of break-down.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” she whispered tremulously. “We knew, +and we―⁠―” she stopped, her breath catching +suddenly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“‘We,’” repeated the chief sharply. “What? +What?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Her lips quivered piteously. The nerve that had +forced her frail woman’s body to bear the rack for +hours was breaking.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What did you do? Tell me!” he commanded +viciously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Don’t you think you’ve gone quite far enough +on that line?” The quiet, even voice of the man +in the door-way caused the two men at the girl’s +side to leap to their feet, and the chief to jerk his +body erect. “If I were you, Miss Nelson,” the man +in the door-way spoke to the girl, and his voice was +gentle, “I would answer only courteous questions.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>His white face, with its lean, cleft chin, and thin, +firm lips, lighted in a wonderful smile of encouragement; +the hand that was not holding the slim stick +brushed back from his high forehead the hair whose +<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>whiteness was accentuated by the great blue circles +of the tortoise-rimmed library glasses.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Who are you?” demanded the chief, but there +was no bluster in his tone. The manner he had +assumed for the girl had dropped like a mask. He +was the calm, alert detective once more, and his keen +judgment told him instantly that the new comer was +not the type to bluff.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Before the man at the door-way could answer, a +youth rushed past him to the girl’s side.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I found him, Nadine,” he cried joyously. +“Here’s Mr. Colton. He’ll find uncle.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thank God!” breathed the girl, and her body +relaxed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton turned his head to speak over his +shoulder. “A glass of water, Sydney. Quickly!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So you’re Thornley Colton, eh?” The secret-service +chief eyed him sharply. “I understand +you’ve done some rather remarkable work—for a +blind man.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton smiled, then stepped aside as his black-haired, +apple-cheeked secretary came in with a glass +of water. The girl’s eyes fluttered open, and the +blind man realised that she needed time to regain +her scattered senses.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You have the average person’s idea of the blind, +chief,” he said. “And the average person gets <em>his</em> +notion from the blind beggar on the street-corners +who hobbles along led by a small boy and a dog, +and taps every inch of the side-walk with a heavy +cane. Very few realise that is mostly for effect. +Fewer still know that in New York there are nearly +two hundred sightless men and women who go to +business every day without help or guidance. Some +of the highest-paid private secretaries and stenographers +in the country are blind. Several of the +blind proof-readers are famous. And for many years +<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>the court of last resort in the dead-letter office at +Washington was a blind man. He was the most +expert ever employed by the government, and could +read with his supersensitive finger-tips addresses +that had passed through the hands of the keenest-eyed +readers of illegible writing in the world. So +you see, the blind are not so helpless as one might +imagine. Ah, Miss Nelson, do you feel better?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.” She looked up at him with a curious +expression in her eyes. It was the look of a child +who has sought a protector only to be a little +frightened at the result. But she smiled bravely. +“You did such a wonderful thing for Ned”—she +rested her hand fondly on her cousin’s arm—“when +he was arrested for the murder of the girl in the +theatre, and I thought―⁠―” Again came the look +that was almost fear.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I will do my best,” promised the blind man. +“Do you mind my hearing the story from Chief +Whittson—his side of it?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No,” she said, with only a bit of nervousness +in her voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Whittson smiled quizzically. This blind man +might be interesting. On his face and the faces of +his men there was no doubt of the outcome. They +were government men, trained, efficient; the +interloper was an amateur—and blind.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We know that Dryden F. Nelson was the biggest +passer of counterfeit money in the country!” +began the chief. “He is the cleverest of them all. +Who would suspect the bank of a man like Nelson +as a clearing house for the cleverest counterfeits ever +made? The scheme was wonderful, the only organised +gang in the country who could pass ‘queer’ +at its face value was that of this girl’s father. How +long it’s been going on we don’t know. The bills +have the ‘feel,’ something no other counterfeiter +<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>has ever been able to get. It was only within the +past six months we traced the bills to their source. +And that was Nelson’s bank! For six months we +have tried to locate the plant, and failed. For the +past three weeks my man here has been in the +house, and there has been a dictograph in the +library.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And you discovered nothing?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nothing except to make morally certain his +guilt. And he knew we were closing in. He was +frightened stiff! Now we find out that the girl, +here, was wise. She’s fooled us right along. We +never suspected that she was one of the gang.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The girl cowered in her chair. “I’m not,” she +faltered. “It isn’t true.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Now Nelson’s slipped through our fingers,” went +on the chief relentlessly. “Just when we had him +worked up to a confession. He got out of that room +in some devilish way.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ve got the facts of his disappearance,” put in +Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So have we!” snapped the chief. “Within +ten minutes of the time he went, every inch of this +block was covered, and to-day ten thousand police +and two hundred secret-service men are scouring +the city for him. He can’t get out of it, and he can’t +stay in it—long.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Why didn’t you arrest him before if you were +so certain of his guilt?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because we wanted his pals! We wanted to +locate the plant! And he went while Jim was +watching the door every minute! While my ears +were glued to the dictograph-receivers and my +pencil taking every word down in shorthand.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You heard nothing?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“After Jim brought the wine there wasn’t a +sound but the infernal ringing of the two glass rims +<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>on the teetery tabouret he insisted on having beside +his chair.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton looked up with sudden interest. “Did +you ever hear those glasses ring before?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Every night at eight, when Jim here served +his wine.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What other time did he have wine served?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The former servant answered: “He only had it +at eight in the library, and he wanted it on the +minute.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Significance—somewhere,” mused the problemist. +For several seconds there was silence as his slim +cane idly tapped his shoe-sole.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Suddenly the girl sat rigid in her chair. “I +can’t!” she cried. “Oh, please! Please! I can’t!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The expression on the blind man’s face was the +only one that did not change. The three secret-service +men looked the amazement the sudden +irrelevant words had caused. The youth who was +kneeling at the girl’s side gazed at her in wonder.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The truth will help us all, Miss Nelson,” said +Colton gently.</p> + +<p class='c008'>But she paid no attention to the words. Her +eyes, widened in fear, were fixed on the shoe of the +problemist.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” she said, and her voice was barely a +whisper. “Every night!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief jumped to his feet. “What’s that?” +he demanded. “What’s that?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The one thing you overlooked; the significance +of two plus two,” declared Thornley Colton. “If +you will show me the library perhaps I can point +out some other things that your eyes have missed.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The girl lifted her bowed head. “Oh, Mr. Colton,” +she pleaded, “do not show them—you don’t know +what it means!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man went to her side, and put his hand +<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>gently on her shoulder. “It is necessary,” he said, +and his voice was tender. Then, to the chief: “If +you will lead the way.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Chief Whittson rose, and jerked his thumb +toward the girl as she buried her head in her arms. +One of the men nodded. She was to be guarded +every minute.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll stay here,” whispered Sydney Thames, as +Colton passed him. The black-haired secretary, +tender-hearted, deifier of all women, was going to +guard the girl against further badgering.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The government man who had posed as the +servant opened the door of the library. “This is +the room,” he growled. “There isn’t a break in the +walls. We’ve gone over every inch.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton’s thin cane located the big chair near the +door. He walked around it, touched its back, the +walls behind it, and measured the distance to the +room entrance. On his white cheeks was a hectic +flush of excitement; his nostrils quivered like those +of a hound on the scent.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You were watching the door every minute?” +His voice was unconsciously sharp.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man turned to the chief, a curious +smile on his face. “This is an instance of the +blind’s superiority. You and your man know that +there is but one possible way for a man to get out +of this room. You’re as sure of that as you are of +death. Yet you can’t realise that that is the way +Nelson got out because your eyes deceive your brain +into thinking it impossible. Sight is the greatest +handicap pure reasoning has. Even a man with +eyes instinctively closes them when he is trying to +figure out some particularly intricate problem. The +trouble is that you haven’t closed your eyes. Nelson +went out through that door!”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>“What?” The chief and his man chorused it +blankly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind problemist did not answer at once. He +darted across the room. His stick found the chair +at the fire-place.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nelson wanted you to turn this chair away +from the fire?” he said suddenly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How did you know that?” asked the chief, +and in his tone was wonder.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because it was necessary for his escape.” The +words came like staccato notes on a taut wire. “He +knew that a man was watching that door. He +didn’t know what instant it might open an inch. +But he knew that with the high sides of the chair +toward the fire he would be invisible in the depths. +He pulled his slippers off, and left one so that it +could be seen—young Nelson, who came to see his +cousin last night, gave me most of the facts. Then +he slid from the chair, and crawled across the floor +to crouch down behind that other big chair near +the door. From past tests he knew just how the +servant would enter the room and just what he +would do. It was the work of an instant to slip +through the open door as the servant was crossing +the room toward the fire-place. His stockinged feet +made his exit absolutely noiseless. The very +simplicity of the thing would deceive any man in the +world who could <em>see</em>. Yet you knew it was the only +way he <em>could</em> have gone!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I saw the door open!” gasped the secret-service +man. “I thought it was a draught.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” nodded the blind man, “because your +eyes saw the cigar-smoke and the slipper. They +wouldn’t let your brain get any idea but that he +was in the chair.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the very simplicity of that would make +elaborate preparations necessary,” objected the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>chief. “The thing would have to be timed to the +instant. Nelson hadn’t a chance to communicate +with any one without our knowledge. Jim, here, +and the dictograph took care of that.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton’s lips curved in a mirthless smile. “They +made it possible! Their very actions prove that +both Nelson and his daughter knew of the dictograph. +They understood that, so long as you didn’t +suspect they knew, you would take no other precautions. +They knew that you would depend on the +instrument to hear every word, and on this man to +see that there wasn’t a written word of instruction +put into their hands. And they fooled you! Tricked +you every day!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>At the last word he dropped to his knees beside +the big chair by the fire-place. His supersensitive +finger-tips brushed the carpet. Back and forth +they went a dozen times, then stopped. “See +that!” he cried. “See that!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The two men leaned forward. For a minute +they stared.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Only a nail-hole through the rug,” declared the +chief.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, only a nail-hole,” Colton repeated quietly. +“That’s the only thing your eyes can see. But my +finger-tip felt the point of a nail under the carpet +and on a level with the floor.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nail?” repeated the chief dumbly. He had +forgotten his superior attitude of a short time before. +The dominant personality of the blind man; his +absolute sureness of himself compelled respect, and +brought a realisation that Thornley Colton was the +master, he the pupil.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man walked from the chair. His stick, +poking in the corner beside the fire-place, found the +tabouret. With an exclamation of satisfaction he +pulled it out and touched its edge with his finger-tips.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>“You spoke of it as being ‘teetery.’ See how +finely it is balanced on the two legs that are a fraction +of an inch longer than the others. And see here!” +His stick fell to the floor as he used both hands +to turn it upside-down. The two secret-service men +saw that all four legs were tipped with metal balls. +“See the scars of the nail-point on the balls of the +short legs?” cried Colton. He took his knife from +his pocket, and tapped with the blade. A low, +musical click-click-click that could be heard distinctly +by the men resulted. “Hear that?” +he demanded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What does it mean?” The chief made no effort +to keep the bewilderment from his voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It means that under the floor, and under that +nail-hole in the rug, is a finely-adjusted magnet with +a nail-pointed plunger in the centre of the coil. +That’s how Nelson beat your dictograph! That’s +how he beat your spy. Just as the girl inside +understood the Morse messages I tapped with my +cane.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Telegraphy!” gasped the chief. “Nelson was +chief staff-telegrapher in the army for years.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man nodded. “The table was set +here at eight because that is the time the person +at the other end would be ready to send the messages. +Nelson adjusted the tabouret so that one of +the short legs would be directly above the magnet-plunger, +which was as sensitive to the touch of the +telegraph-key sending the current through the +magnet-coils as the most delicate instrument in the +world. To the trained operator who has learned to +take a message from any single instrument in a +room where a thousand others are clattering away, +the click of the plunger against that hollow metal +ball would be as easy to read as print to the average +man. But ordinarily the dictograph would also +<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>hear. That’s why the goblets were placed rim to +rim—so that the ringing would drown the other +sound over the wires of the dictograph, or to a man +listening at the door. Acoustics would take care of +that. The dot-dash of the magnet-plunger could +not be heard five feet away, though the man in the +chair could get every word.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“By God, that’s clever!” There was admiration +in Chief Whittson’s tone. “Pull back that chair, +Jim! We’ll get the rug up and see the thing! +We’ll follow those wires and land the whole gang.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He stopped as Nadine Nelson entered the room. +She wasn’t the sobbing girl they had left who now +entered; but a white-cheeked, white-lipped woman +who did not speak until she had crossed the room +and stood before the chief.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I am the ‘gang’ you speak of,” she said quietly. +“The wires go to my room!”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>III.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Calmly, disdainfully, the girl stood at the door of +her room, and watched the secret-service men search +it with no regard for care. At her side stood her +cousin, looking on helplessly. His boyish protests +had been stilled by a terse “Shut up!” from the +chief. At the other side of the girl, his face black +with a scowl, and his hands clenched at his sides, +stood Sydney Thames. To the soft-hearted Sydney +no crime was so great as that of causing a woman +pain. So he gritted his teeth, and darted murderous +glances at the secret-service men, and looks of pleading +at the blind man who leaned against the wall, +apparently watching the searchers.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The girl had shown them the room. She had +flung open the door of the closet, and cleverly +concealed behind hanging clothes they had found a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>telegraph-key on a small shelf. They had pulled +out the wires, and found they led to the magnets +in the library. Now they were beginning a systematic +search of the room—and finding nothing. The girl +had evidently told the truth. She, and only she, +could have sent the messages.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where did you learn telegraphy?” demanded +the chief suddenly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I can’t remember when I didn’t have a key to +play with,” she answered coolly. “Father was an +expert telegrapher for years, and he taught us almost +before we could read and write.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“‘Us?’” snapped out the chief.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My brother and me,” she answered, and the +ears of the blind man, trained to interpret every +inflection of tone, caught the sudden forced +note.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where is your brother, Miss Nelson?” he +asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He died ten years ago, in the tropics,” she +answered, and there was a curious break in her voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And you left the library every night at eight so +you could send your father messages?” asked the +chief sarcastically.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. We did not dare talk because of your spy. +And his eyes were never off my father.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Well,” the chief’s tone was even more sarcastic +than before, “<em>you</em> might have found an easier way.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She did not answer, but watched Thornley Colton +as he stepped across the room to the closet. For a +minute he poked inside with his cane, moving the +hanging clothes away from the telegraph-instrument. +He leaned over it, and seemed to be examining +it intently. There was a frown of puzzlement on +his forehead as he straightened up. It disappeared +almost instantly, and in its place came a look of +sudden enlightenment.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>“Did you ever smoke South American cigarettes +with licorice-pectoral papers, Miss Nelson?” he +asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No, never!” She tried to make the denial +indignant, but Colton’s superkeen ears caught the +false note instantly, as did the keen-eyed chief of +the secret service. He opened his mouth to ask a +question, but the blind man forestalled him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The next house is built right against this one, +isn’t it, chief?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, but the crazy Frenchman next door is +absolutely above suspicion. We looked up his whole +life’s history. He’s a semi-invalid and nutty. He +has a pet bear; also two servants to take care of +the animal.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Crazy, eh?” muttered Colton. He hurried +across the room, his cane locating every piece of +furniture. He stopped before the bureau, and +leaned forward toward a drawer-pull. An instant +he paused, and in that instant came the betrayal +he had hoped to bring from the girl.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Don’t, please!” She stopped suddenly, biting +her lips until the blood came.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton straightened up; his lips set grimly. +“Pull out the bureau, and you’ll find an opening +into the house of the crazy Frenchman,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What?” The chief jumped across the room, +and pulled out the heavy piece of furniture. Behind +it was a jagged hole that a crouching man could +go through with ease.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The two secret-service men jumped through the +opening, but the chief paused. “How did you +know that?” he asked wonderingly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because the clothes in the closet held the faint +licorice odour of the pectoral cigarette papers that +South Americans affect. Therefore some man must +have been sending those messages. It wasn’t a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>man in this house. There had to be an entrance—and +I tricked the girl into telling me that it was +concealed behind the bureau. It had to be in this +room because the message-sender wouldn’t risk +entering another to get where the telegraph-key +was!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The girl leaned back against the wall, and a sob +came from her lips. “Oh, why did I ask Ned to +find you!” she cried. “Their eyes could have +seen nothing, and you―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It was necessary, Miss Nelson!” The gentleness +that had been in the blind man’s voice downstairs +was missing now; it was brusque, sharp. +“Better have one of your men remain here, chief,” +he said, and there was no mistaking his meaning. +“I’d like to go through that house.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief looked at him curiously; then, with the +docility that came to most men when the blind +man advised or ordered, he whistled sharply. One +of the men returned.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Stay here!” commanded the chief, and he +stepped aside as the blind man bent low and entered +the next house. The chief followed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What do you know about the occupant here?” +Colton asked the chief as he walked around the +room, his thin cane locating furniture again, and +giving his brain a mental picture of the whole +chamber.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He’s lived here for some time. We looked him +up from A to Izzard, also his three servants. About +six months ago, it appears, he bought a pet bear, +a nasty beast, and sometimes takes him out. Attracts +quite a lot of attention because the old man wears +a huge fur coat that makes him look like the animal’s +big brother.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And because every man in your business thinks +the crook is always seeking cover there would be no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>suspicion of a man who courts attention by means +of keeping a pet bear. Clever game enough to throw +any man that had eyes off the track!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, the Frenchman’s on the level,” resented the +chief. “He’s getting worse, failing fast. Anybody +can see that. Doctor comes twice a day to see +him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And he comes every night about eight o’clock!” +declared Colton suddenly. “He’s the man that’s +been sending those messages. He’s the chief of the +gang you’ve been trying to locate so long. He must +be, or he’d stay here all the time. He has to attend +to the outside work while the men here do the actual +counterfeiting. And it was never suspected because +all you could see was a <em>pet bear</em>! Look!” He pulled +open the drawer of a dresser. “Here’s a dozen +cigarette ends, all of pectoral paper and Brazilian +paper. The doctor smoked them here the times he +had to wait for eight o’clock and the time to talk +to Nelson.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“By Jove! You’re―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hey, chief!” The cry came from downstairs.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s Jim. He’s found something!” The chief +started toward the door and stopped. “Do you +want me to guide you?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Go ahead!” Colton said dryly. “My ears will +follow your footfalls.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This way, chief! Quick!” The voice directed +them to the kitchen. The chief stopped with an +ejaculation of amazement at the door.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The secret-service operative who had entered the +house first was lifting an unconscious man from a +heavy wooden chair. On the floor were the cut +ropes that had bound him, and the wadded handkerchiefs +that had prevented outcries.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The Frenchman!” gasped the chief. “He’s +got to talk! Lay him down, Jim!”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>The Frenchman groaned feebly as they put him +on the floor, and choked when a pocket flask was +held to his lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“<span lang="fr"><i>Mon Dieu!</i></span>” he moaned weakly. Then his +dazed brain realised that men were standing over +him. “Pleeze stop! I do nozzing!” he cried +supplicatingly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We are friends—gendarmes.” Chief Whittson +said the words slowly and distinctly, so that the +man could understand. “Who did this?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The fear went from the Frenchman’s eyes. “My +servants,” he whispered hoarsely. “Zay have kep’ +me prisoner for mont’s; ever since my old servants +go an’ zay come.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Damn!” jerked out the chief. “They’ve +tricked us right along. We looked up the old +servants’ records, and didn’t suspect for an instant +the impersonation. Where did they go? When?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The Frenchman fell back, his eyes closed</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I think I can answer the ‘when’ part of that +question,” put in Thornley Colton, as he appeared +at the doorway. “I apologise to the man here for +the things I said upstairs. But even I didn’t give +the master counterfeiter credit for such diabolical +ingenuity as this. The fake servants left the minute +you entered Nelson’s house to question the girl. +And the man that went with them as the Frenchman +was Dryden F. Nelson. That’s the only way +he could go!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The Frenchman stirred, and tried to lift his head. +“Zat is right,” he gasped chokingly. “He―⁠―” +His eyes closed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Get an ambulance, Jim!” ordered the chief. +“This man’s in bad shape. Get the boys from +outside! Put two on the trail of the carriage. +Nelson and his gang won’t get far. Bring the others +in to search the house!” The man darted out, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>the chief picked the invalid up in his strong arms +and carried him gently to a couch in the dining-room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The Frenchman moaned, and a shudder shook his +body. “Don’t make ze bear hurt me!” he cried +weakly. “Don’t knock ze glasses togezzer and make +him mad-crazee.” He lapsed back into unconsciousness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief looked at Colton significantly, but the +blind man only nodded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But how did old man Nelson ever get a chance +to get in here?” puzzled the chief.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He didn’t!” Colton’s voice was sharp. “The +man who posed as the doctor is the ringleader.” +There came a ring of menace in his tone. “I’ll find +him! I know him!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You know him?” The chief did not even nod +to the three men who entered the room and stood +respectfully by for orders.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes! He’s tanned a dark brown, an expert +telegrapher, thirty-five years old, a man who likes +to pet and fondle a bear, and his first name is Joe. +There are a few other details I’ll give you when the +proper time comes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Great Scott!” Amazement, incredulity were +in the chief’s voice. He turned to one of his men. +“Was the doctor here last night, Tom?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We saw him coming out a minute before we +got the alarm from you, chief. Said good evening, +and told us it was only a matter of days for the old +guy here.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Eyes attach no significance to things they have +seen a dozen times before,” Colton observed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief turned to him again. “Where did you +get those facts?” he demanded, with the brusqueness +of chagrin in his voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The Brazilian tobacco and pectoral papers told +<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>me he had spent years in South America. Naturally +he’d be tanned a dark brown. The fact that he must +be an expert telegrapher is obvious. I know that +he is thirty-five years old because I know that he +is fifteen years older than Nadine Nelson. How +I knew that you’ll know later. This told me his +name—and another fact.” The blind man held out +a charred fragment of paper scarcely two inches +square, a deep brown in colour from heat and smoke. +“The fact that the man you want takes pleasure +in fondling and handling a bear my keen sense of +smell told me. The bear-fur odour is unmistakable +and clings to a thing for hours. It was on the handkerchief +in the kitchen, and in the corner of the +linen was the initial J!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s impossible to decipher a word of this!” +protested the chief, looking up from the charred +fragment of paper.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“With eyes—yes. But my finger-tips found the +tracery of that name, even though the ink had +entirely disappeared! The pen-ridges remain, and +would remain until the paper was consumed.” He +changed the subject suddenly. “There comes the +ambulance. I want to go up and see the girl again.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll go with you.” Chief Whittson’s tone was +curiously humble. He turned to give curt orders +to the men, and followed the blind man out of the +room.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Despite the minutes that had passed, Nadine +Nelson was just where they had left her. The +secret-service guard sat easily on a gilt chair. +Sydney Thames and the girl’s cousin were alternately +pleading with her to sit down. As the chief +and Thornley Colton stepped into the room her teeth +gripped her lower lip, and her hands clenched +tighter at her sides.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Who is the man who has been coming into this +<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>room every night to send those messages?” Thornley +Colton’s voice was hard, stern.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The face of the girl went white at the cruelty of +it. Sydney Thames took a half step forward, and a +gesture of the blind man stopped him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Who is he?” snapped the blind man again.</p> + +<p class='c008'>She raised her head to look straight into his +sightless eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“My husband!” she answered defiantly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That isn’t true!” The words came like the +lash of a whip.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thorn!” In Sydney Thames’s voice was agony +that the man he loved could say such a thing to a +woman.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And you were the man I thought could help +me!” Scorn, bitterness, self-accusation were in +the vibrant voice of the girl. “You’re worse than +those curs who listened to every word! You’ve +<em>killed</em> my father! If I were a man I’d kill <em>you</em>—even +though you are blind!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The last words came through her clenched, white +teeth, and she advanced half a step, so that her +hot breath reached the face of the blind man. But +he only idly twirled his slim cane and looked down +at her with a tolerant, amused grin that was maddening.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You’ll talk!” he promised curtly. “She’ll +talk in jail, chief!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I wouldn’t talk if you tore me to little pieces!” +she cried vehemently.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton did not answer; he nodded curtly to the +chief, and with a “Come, Sydney!” he hurried +from the room, and from the girl who stared straight +ahead of her with dull, fixed eyes.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames followed him down the stairs +silently. In the lower hall he spoke. “God, Thorn, +that was barbarous! It almost made me forget―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>“Find the telephone and get me the number of +the United Fruit Company,” ordered the blind man +sharply.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Without a word Thames found the ’phone in an +alcove of the hall, and gave the number to Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What boat sails for South America to-day?” +asked the problemist when the connection had been +established. “The <i>Carracas</i>? Is there a bear consigned +on that boat? Hasn’t arrived yet? The +sailing’s at five? Thank you!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>As he hung up the receiver the angry boy’s tone +of Nadine Nelson’s cousin came to them indistinctly. +Sydney Thames jumped as though a pin had jabbed +him. When he spoke to the blind man there was +a look on his face that had never been on it before.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thorn,” he said, and there was a break in his +voice, “you’ve been the only father I ever knew, +but I <em>won’t</em> leave that girl to the mercy of those +police brutes!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“This is no time for sentiment!” snapped +Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It is time for good-bye, then!” Sydney Thames, +the colourless, the characterless, the counter of steps +for the man who had picked him up, a bundle of +baby-clothes on the banks of the English river that +had given him the only name he ever knew, held +out his hand.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man’s lips tightened; he ignored the +outstretched hand as he pulled on a glove. “Make +it <span lang="de"><i>auf wiedersehen</i></span>,” he said wearily. <a id='tn-fiveoclock'></a>“Shrimp and +I are going to catch the boat for Brazil at five o’clock!”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>IV.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>The Fee, red-haired, freckle-faced boy, who had +become a member of the Colton household as the +blind man’s only pay for solving a particularly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>baffling murder case, eased his plaster-encircled arm +on the rail of the <i>Carracas</i>, and watched with all the +power of his round blue eyes the lowering of the big +cage on the forward deck. As it swung for an +instant on a level with the promenade deck on which +they stood, the boy caught a glimpse of the shaggy +animal under the canvas protecting-hood that +covered the top and fitted tightly halfway down the +sides.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Gee, Mister Colton, it’s certain’y got some claws +on its feet!” observed the boy admiringly. A hitch +of the rope jarred the cage, and brought forth a +deep growl that could be heard above the creaking +of ropes and the squeaky wheels of the stevedores’ +trucks as they rushed the last few cases of freight on +deck. “There she bumps!” cried the boy as the +cable touched the deck.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Then came a shriek of pain. “Gee whiz!” +gasped the boy, and the blind man’s cane felt him +jump a foot. “One of the workin’men bent down +to get the rope off the bottom of the cage, and the +bear reached under the canvas, tore his arm with its +claws. Darn it, but he’s wicious!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The bawling voice of an officer broke in: “Here, +you men that own that bear! Unsling the cage!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Three ragged, dark-skinned men jumped to the +cage, and unslung the tackle ropes without arousing +even a deep-throated growl from the animal.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The tense look left Thornley Colton’s face as he +heard the block slip to the deck, and for the first time +in hours there came the slightest trace of satisfaction +in the curve of the thin lips. He was right! +Once more he had risked everything on his judgment +and his wonderful mental ability to find logic in +seeming chaos by following to their end the mind +processes of men against whom he was pitted.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The proof had come with the shriek of the clawed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>stevedore. Thornley Colton’s whole mind had been +concentrated to catch one other sound among the +multitude of noises. He had heard it and recognised +it—the musical clink of glass on glass—the ring of +a goblet! That had been the thing that had aroused +the fury of the bear at exactly the instant that the +workman was within reach of the tearing claws. +That was the thing that had sent Dryden F. Nelson’s +daughter to jail, and had caused Sydney Thames to +renounce the man who loved him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll bet nobody but them guys that own the +bear’ll go near him after this,” observed the boy +sagely.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t think they will,” the blind man said +grimly. “Let’s take a walk around.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The boy’s eyes squinted along the deck from his +feet to the rail at the other side. “It’s ten steps,” +he calculated. “They’s a man an’ a fat woman five +ahead lookin’ down at the front deck, an’ at the other +rail there’s a guy in a chair readin’ a paper. Yuh +gotta step out a bit for him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“All right,” nodded the blind man, as he started.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The boy walked at his side, and he avoided the +man and the woman, but his foot seemed to slip +at the steamer chair, and he fell sprawling into the +lap of the seated man, sending the thin glass he had +held in his hands behind the paper in a hundred +pieces to the deck.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What the devil!” snapped the hoarse voice of +the man, as he angrily brushed away the sparks of +fire that had fallen on his coat when the black-brown +cigarette had fallen from his lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Instantly Colton was on his feet, apologising. “I +am blind; I made a false step,” he said contritely.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Oh, all right,” growled the man ungraciously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The problemist started again on his walk. The +grim lines had returned around his thin-lipped +<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>mouth, but there was no other change in the blind +man’s expression, not even triumph. Yet he had +located the man he wanted; the man who had fooled +the entire secret service of the country for months! +Reasoning had done it; the pure eliminative +reasoning that was made possible by his lack of +sight. The man into whose lap he had just fallen +was the one who had aroused the bear’s anger with +the tap of his glass. He was the man whose pectoral +cigarette papers and tobacco had scented the closet +at the Nelson home. And he had recently handled +a bear!</p> + +<p class='c008'>As his brain worked at lightning speed behind his +high, white forehead, the blind man walked with the +boy aimlessly around the decks, hardly hearing +Shrimp’s delighted chatter. The <i>Carracas</i> was in +mid-stream now, her nose pointed toward the +Narrows. Most of the passengers had gone to their +state-rooms, and the steam hissed from the winch +cylinders forward as the last pieces of cargo were +lowered into the hold. The blind man’s ears were +strained to catch each sound, or suspicion of sound +that would tell him the things he could not see, and +his brain counted the steps, measuring distance, +memorising directions as years of training had +taught it to do. Suddenly Colton realised that some +one was following them, watching every move. A +growingly familiar furtive footstep every little while +as the shadow quickly dodged, whiffs of the Brazilian +tobacco smoke wafted to his nostrils on sudden +gusts of wind, told him more than eyes could have +told. His fall, crude because of its necessity, had +aroused the other man’s suspicion.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Show me our stateroom, Shrimp,” he said +finally. “Then you can come up on deck again. +I’ll remember all the steps.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Gee!” grinned the boy, in huge relief. “I’m +<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>glad I don’t have to stay down there. I wanta +watch that little yacht that’s comin’ out.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton nodded. He knew why the “little yacht” +was coming out. He knew she should be flying a +flag with perpendicular red stripes—the flag of the +revenue service. And he knew that on board her +was Chief Whittson and his men, who awaited his +signal.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The boy proudly opened the door of the little +white room, and Colton closed it behind him. “Wait +a minute, Shrimp,” he said quietly. From his pocket +he took a memorandum book and pencil. For a +minute he wrote, then he handed the torn-out leaf +to the boy, who read, with widening eyes:</p> + +<p class='c013'>If you miss me for fifteen minutes, or see me on deck with the +man I fell over, run to the wireless house and give the operator +this message: John Jones, 56 Cedar Street, New York. Close.</p> + +<div class='c014'><span class='sc'>Payton.</span></div> + +<p class='c010'>“Gee!” whispered the boy joyfully. “I <em>knowed</em> +it was a case! I knowed you didn’t mean what you +said about not lettin’ me in on any more when I +broke this arm. Gee!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Go up on the deck and see all the sights you can, +Shrimp,” smiled the blind man. “See you later.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The problemist sat down on the edge of the +brass bed to go over the situation again and +make sure that there was not a loose end. He had +figured out on deck the only way, but he wanted +to prove his reasoning by mental tests. The master +counterfeiter, cunning, desperate, could do only one +thing—eliminate the man he knew suspected him. +And Thornley Colton could do but one thing—“watch” +every minute the head of the gang. The +success of the whole case depended on Colton’s +alertness in preventing the criminal from making +one move that the problemist knew he would make +the instant the master rogue discovered all was lost. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>Yet the presence of the man at the dénouement +was <em>necessary</em>! Colton rose. He must take a +desperate chance, just as he had taken them many +times before.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He opened the door, and went down the narrow +corridor, his brain automatically counting the steps +it had registered when he entered. He stopped. +He smelled the heavy licorice odour of the pectoral +papers again. For an instant a grim smile flashed +to his lips. He had followed the mind-processes of +the man correctly once more. The smell of the +smoke was too obvious; it had been overdone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A stateroom door opened before him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Got a match?” asked a voice, and Colton +understood the disguising of tone instantly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man held out his match safe; then the +snarling whisper of the man cut the stillness, and he +felt a gun-muzzle jab viciously into his ribs. “Get +in here!” Colton quietly obeyed the order, and +stepped over the threshold into the stateroom that +was filled almost to suffocation with cigarette +smoke.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Put ’em over your head! Up!” The snarl +changed to a sneer. “So you’re the slick blind +man that sister of mine talked about, eh? The +lonehander that makes boobs of the police and +secret service? Well, little bat-eye, I’ve been +laying for you ever since I got wise to that slick +fall trick. Got a damn’ fine nose, eh, smelling that +pec smoke I’ve been filling the lower deck with ever +since you and the kid came down.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Humour palls when the audience is forced to +stand in so uncomfortable a position,” said the blind +man evenly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He felt his own pistol snatched away.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Back up a step, and you’ll find the bed!” +ordered the voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>The blind man sat down and waited patiently. +When the other man spoke again there was grudging +admiration in his voice. “I’ve got to hand it to +you,” he admitted. “I didn’t think there was one +man on earth that’d get wise. Now I suppose you +want the old man?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I want you first,” Colton told him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You got me!” laughed the man with the +gun. “But you haven’t got me like you got +that sister of mine, have you? She wouldn’t +say a word, would she? Well, it’s a damn’ good +thing she didn’t!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I knew that,” said Colton quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You didn’t think the wayward son could come +back after ten years, with a counterfeiting process +that couldn’t be beat, and then get his father in on +the scheme to pass the phony money through his +bank, did you? And you didn’t know that staid +old Dryden Nelson would ever become head of the +gang, and then slide out under the noses of the +secret-service men. I guess he’s the man you want +to get, eh? Well, I’m the little man that’s going +to see that you don’t!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I will find him when the time comes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You will, eh—you will!” Snarling viciousness +dominated the voice. “Well, you won’t! You, +with your lone hand! Why, you poor boob, it’d +take a gang to get me!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I had about concluded you were just taking a +chance on a word dropped by Miss Nelson and a +thing or two you might have heard of me,” Colton +said quietly. “I didn’t think you’d dare have any +one near enough to get real information. This is +one of the games where I don’t play a lone hand. +The boat that’s been following us ever since we left +the dock is the revenue cutter <i>Proctor</i>, with Chief +Whittson and his men aboard.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>The man ripped out an oath. “So that’s it!” +he snarled. “Fooled me, eh? Stand up! Put +your hands behind your back! No funny work! +I’ve tied men before with one hand.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton smiled at him sardonically. “If I am off +the deck fifteen minutes Chief Whittson and his men +will board the <i>Carracas</i>, and nab the fake owners +of the bear. Quite a scheme, that. No one would +ever suspect ignorant, ragged-looking, brown men +with a dancing bear as counterfeiters, would they?” +His tone was a burlesque of the man’s own. “And +what do you suppose the chief’ll do when he finds +me here? Tied up or dead makes no difference. +I promised myself to get you, and get you alone. +But it’ll be just as good that way.” The mockery +had died out of his voice at that last sentence; +there was a tinge of bitterness that the man instantly +recognised.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Well, you couldn’t put him wise to <em>me</em>!” +gritted the man. “So you <em>are</em> a lone-handed +worker, after all. Get up!” he commanded. +Colton obeyed the jabbing gun-barrel. “I’m a +single-hander, too!” went on the counterfeiter. +“We’re going up on the deck, and if there’s a move +to get me, out you go! This gun’ll be in my pocket, +jamming your kidneys every minute. Let ’em get +the gang! I’m through with ’em! Let ’em have +the bear, too! It’ll be no good to anybody! I’ll +see to that. But if you even lift a finger to point +me out―⁠―” He made a horrible gurgling sound +in his throat that was more than significant. “Come +on!” he ordered sharply.</p> + +<p class='c008'>They left the stateroom, Colton idly twirling his +slim stick, the man at his side talking commonplaces +in a grim tone that made them anything but +commonplaces. To the passengers who saw them +on the deck they were only ship acquaintances, but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>the blind man felt the gun-muzzle now and then in +his side.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“We’ll stop here,” growled the man at the forward +rail, overlooking the open deck below. “I want to +be where I can watch those men of mine. Put +your hands on the rail where I can see ’em!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton quietly obeyed, resting his elbows on the +wood and dangling his cane over the edge. The +crash of the wireless sender broke out; the blind +man felt his companion grow tense as his trained +ears read the dots and dashes. Then he knew that +the message he had written so that the man who +was an expert telegrapher could not suspect had +flashed to the revenue cutter, “John Jones, 56 +Cedar Street,” meant nothing but a business +deal.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Minutes passed. Below them the three ragged +men lounged around the cage. Four or five other +men, of the crew off watch, stood around, scowling +vindictively at the bear cage and its sleeping animal. +Then came the thing that the blind man had been +waiting for. He felt the big engines slow down. +Not a muscle of his body seemed to move, but the +knuckles of his right hand whitened as he gripped +the end of his cane.</p> + +<p class='c008'>An oath came from the man at his side. “So +you tricked―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>So sudden that it seemed but a whir in the light, +the slim cane in the hand of the blind man swished +around, straight for the other man’s eyes. There +had been not a warning move but a lightning turn +of the wrist. The first instinct man has is to protect +his eyes. The criminal obeyed it, forgetting all else. +He dodged with a gasp. Colton’s knees seemed to +give way under him, he spun around on the balls of +his feet like a cat; then his whole body straightened +like a suddenly released whalebone, his right fist +<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>found the jaw of the other, and the master counterfeiter +fell without a groan and lay still.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton’s whistle rang out shrilly. A screamed +oath came from the deck below. The sound of a +struggle.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Get the bear!” shouted Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A shot rang out. Another. He could hear the +big cage rattle and groan as the dying animal +thrashed out its life. Around the cage seven men +were struggling, the three ragged, dark-skinned men +who had guarded the cage and the four men who +had been apparently lounging sailors.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man listened for a moment, then he +smiled a grim smile. “A lone hand!” he murmured. +“I hate assistants—but I’m not such an +egotistical fool as all that!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>On the port side of the boat he heard the scrambling +of men to the high, white deck. Then Chief +Whittson’s voice came:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Did you get him?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton touched the unconscious body of the man +near the rail just as he would have touched the body +of a snake with his foot.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Where’s Nelson?” asked the chief eagerly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Down there in the false, canvas-covered top of +that bear cage!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. Drugged! For God’s sake get that suffocating +cover off, and send for the ship’s doctor.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The order was bawled to the men below. Willing +hands ripped the cover to pieces, and on a thin +mattress, in a steel-floored, steel-meshed upper compartment +of the cage, was Dryden F. Nelson, white-faced, +unconscious!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“By Heaven, he had his nerve with him to take +that chance to get away!” gasped the chief, in +admiration. “It’s a new one! We’d never have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>suspected a bear cage in a thousand years. And we +had every way out of the city guarded.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes!” The word came as a half groan, half +snarl, from the man on the deck, whom one of the +secret-service operatives had just manacled. “He +had his nerve! He’s my father! And he’s the +greatest counterfeiter of them all!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton leaned forward. He grasped a +wrist of the man, and almost pulled the arm out of +its socket.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You dirty, lying cur!” he said, and his tone +was one that he had never used before. “You +forced that old man to serve you after he had discovered +what you were doing! You forced the girl +who thought you were her brother to protect you! +By God, if ever a man deserved hanging you’re +the one!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He’s my father!” grated the handcuffed man. +“If I go to jail he’ll go, too! He knows I’m his son!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You dog!” Colton’s voice fairly shook with +passion. “You fooled him into believing that you +were his rotten-hearted son that died ten years ago. +But you can’t fool me! You may look like Joe +Nelson! You may deceive even the eyes of a father! +But I’m blind! Blind! I talked for an hour with +a school chum who played in the football game in +which Joe Nelson broke his wrist. You never had +a broken wrist in your life! The bones are perfect!” +He turned to the chief. “Keep a careful guard on +that cage, chief, until we get to the cutter. I think +there’s a million or so dollars that this dog got from +Nelson’s bank stuffed into that mattress!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Damn you!” The man half rose to his knees +as he shrieked it. “I tricked them all! And +you―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s the confession I wanted to vindicate +Nelson,” said the blind man contentedly.</p> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span> + <h3 class='c009'>V.</h3> +</div> + +<p class='c010'>Nadine Nelson rose as the blind man entered the +room, her lips curved in a wonderful smile of joyous +greeting, and she hurried across the floor to meet him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Can you ever forgive me?” he asked, in his +rich, musical voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Forgive you?” she cried happily. “Why, I +could—kiss you!” She stopped, crimson-cheeked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>He smiled seriously down at her. “It was +necessary, the way I spoke to you,” he said gently. +“Before, I did not realise how desperate the game +was. I knew that your father’s life hung on the +thread of your silence. And I knew that the only +way I could assure myself that you wouldn’t break +down and talk was to arouse every bit of that +wonderful fighting gameness you have. The men +who had your father would have killed him rather +than risk getting him away if they thought there was +a breath of suspicion.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I know,” she said; “I know—and understand.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The ringleader talked a little to the chief on the +way back in the revenue cutter,” went on Colton. +“He had been a pal of your brother’s for years in +South America. They worked together in a telegraph +office in Rio.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He was a wonderful operator,” murmured the +girl. “He is the only man I ever knew of who could +imitate another man’s touch on the key. That was +the proof that convinced father that he was Joe. +You know the touch of an operator on a sender is +as individual as handwriting.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton nodded. “My knowledge of that fact is +what threw me off the track at first. You knew +your brother was implicated the minute you spoke +of him in your room. I remembered then the +stories I had heard of him. I remembered that he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>was fifteen years older than you, and was supposed +to have been shot in South America ten years ago, +where he went following some trouble here.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Joe always was wild,” the girl confessed softly, +“though I only remember him as a big, strong +brother who used to hold me on his knee while he +told me wonderful stories. I couldn’t believe sometimes +that the man who was making daddy do such +horrible things could be the brother I knew. But I +couldn’t convince father. The counterfeiter knew +every incident of Joe’s life, and there was the touch +of the operator that father thought was so indisputable. +I tried to get father to confess it all. I +refused to carry him the messages that were left +in my room after we knew the secret-service men +were watching us, and that Joe and his men were +next door. Then Joe—I can’t call him anything +else―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That is the name he has gone under for years,” +put in Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then Joe rigged up the magnets and key,” +went on the girl. “He had to give father instructions +every night where to distribute the counterfeit +money that was packed in the vaults of the bank +in place of the reserve. And he made father sell all +his bonds to cover the shortage. Then, with the +help of a watchman, who was another of the gang, +they got the counterfeit money in to take the place +of that father had gotten to make good. Every +day Joe promised that he would make restitution, +for he had made father believe that he had sent the +money to Brazil for investment, and it would double +in a month. So father hoped and prayed, and got +years older every hour. The secret-service men were +dogging every step, watching every move. Jail +stared him in the face—and he believed the man +he thought his son, believed that he would have the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>money to look the world squarely in the face once +more.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Then Joe told him one night, over the wire, +that he had lost all. Father must go. I watched +outside my door every night to see that Paul did +not come near. I caught a word. I pleaded with +father. For four days I fought against them. +Then they won. I was at the door last night when +father came running up the stairs, panting, half +dead with the excitement of having slipped past +the secret-service man. He darted past me. I +followed. Joe grabbed me by the arm when I +started to protest. ‘Get downstairs and throw a +fit because your father has gone!’ he hissed. +‘You’ll be along in a little while, and be with him!’ +he finished, and there was a look in his eyes that +frightened me. So you see it wasn’t only acting in +the library.” She shuddered.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton understood, even more than she, for he +had heard the confession of the master counterfeiter +on the revenue cutter that had brought them all +back to the city. He had learned then why he had +taken such pains to get the old man away. The +crook had not been satisfied to take every dollar +of the old man’s fortune. He had seen the girl; he +had wanted her, and she was to have been the price +of her father’s life!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The chief’s men got the whole plant next door,” +he put in hastily. “It’s a new process of bleaching +one-dollar bills, and making hundreds from them +with a new photographic process. The master crook +had been perfecting it for years in Brazil, waiting +for a big stake in New York. He put one of his +assistants as correspondent of your father’s bank +down there. A year ago he had him write a humble +letter asking for a position in New York. Your father +gave it to him.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>“Yes,” admitted the girl. “And the man who +took the position was the one who posed as my +brother. He pretended to be very dull. That’s +why the secret-service men never suspected him. +When he had been in the bank three months, father +discovered a shortage of sixty thousand dollars. +He accused the man who came from Brazil. Father’s +bank, you know, is a private institution, and only +has seven employees. The man confessed, and convinced +father that he was Joe. He said he would +make good the loss. And he did, with the clever +counterfeits. That was the entering wedge. After +that father was only putty in his hands. Six months +ago he resigned, after seeing to it that one of his +gang was put in as watchman and another took his +place.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That is when he took up his role as doctor,” +put in Colton, “and got his scheme of taking the +poor Frenchman’s house. And at the hospital they +say the Frenchman will recover fully.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And father is upstairs sleeping,” she said softly. +“You brought him back to me—and he knows that +the man who tried to ruin him, the man who would +have killed him if you had not been there to prevent +him when the revenue men came, was not his son! +That is the greatest of all! We owe you a debt +that we can never repay; you and Sydney, here, +who stood so bravely by when I thought all the world +had turned against me.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>She touched the arm of the black-haired man who +had sat silent beside her, and he looked at her with +a wonderful new light in his eyes. Gone, now, was +Sydney Thames’s great fear of women that had been +his obsession all his life. He had met <em>the</em> woman.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Can you ever forgive me, Thorn?” he asked, +speaking for the first time. He had not even raised +his eyes to the face of the man he had renounced that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>morning. Ever since Dryden Nelson had been +brought back to his home, and the wireless message +from the revenue cutter had opened the jail-door +for the girl, his thoughts had been torturing him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I must forgive myself first,” the blind man said +quietly. “It hurt me more than anything else to +talk to you like that. But a man’s life hung in the +balance. I could not tell you, for I knew you would +tell the girl rather than see her suffer a minute.” +One of his rare smiles lighted up his face. “Let’s +make it a burned paper, more completely burned +than the charred fragment I found in the Frenchman’s +house; the part of a note one of the outside +men sent to the master counterfeiter. For on that +my fingers read three words: Joe, cage, <i>Carracas</i>. +That finished the case—my case.” And his sightless +eyes seemed to look at them with understanding +and joy.</p> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span><a id='PROBLEM-EIGHTH'></a></p> +<div> + <h2 class='c005'><span class="problem-a">THE EIGHTH PROBLEM</span> <br> <br> <span class="problem-b">THE EYE OF THE SEVEN DEVILS</span></h2> +</div> + +<h3 class='c009'>I.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>A jarring incongruity in the room of tapestries, +silken-shaded lights, and furnishings of mahogany, +the rough wooden box, with its dirty, scarred +sides, scratched the top of the polished table in a +hundred places without arousing even a murmur +of protest from the four men who watched every +movement of the little Japanese servant as he +carefully pried the holding nails from the cover +boards. A chorused “Ah!” came from four +pairs of lips as the servant laid the chisel down and +lifted the last board.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Careful, Nesu,” warned the frock-coated man +with the white moustache and sun-tanned cheeks.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The dissipated-looking youth, with the Egyptian +cigarette dangling loosely from his lower lip, rose +to get a better view of the interior. “’Nough +cotton stuffing there to fill a barrel, captain,” he +grinned, vacuously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” nodded the white-moustached captain. +“Nearly ten pounds, and the Devils are bound +into place with nearly twenty yards of silk strips. +A man takes a little care with a thing that’s cost +him forty thousand, Meynerd.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The Japanese servant pulled out a huge handful +of cotton, and placed it on a spread newspaper as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>another of the group spoke. “Is it really worth +that, captain?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Three times that, Joslyn. Forty thousand is +only what I paid the hunchback outcast priest in +the Yunling mountain monastery in Sze Chuen. He +had had it hidden for nearly fifty years. The eye +alone is worth sixty-five thousand, if it’s worth a +cent. The forty thousand I paid will buy the +priest all the prayers he needs for the next hundred +years; and they’ll be the best prayers money can +buy, at that.” He smiled, grimly. “I needed a few +of those same prayers on several occasions myself,” +he went on. “Especially on that three-hundred-mile +journey through the Yunlings to Chingtu. I +have an idea the priest wanted to steal a march on +the prayers, and threw out a hint that the ‘white +dogs’ had found the pearl-eyed Seven Devils of Sin. +During the half century that had passed since he +stole it, of course, it has been ‘lost.’”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Why didn’t he return it instead of getting +forty thousand dollars to buy prayer papers to burn +for his soul?” asked Wilson, the fourth member +of the group, taking his eyes from the busy-fingered +Jap.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because he was a Chinese,” explained Captain +Richards. “He stole the thing when he had just +entered the monastery, for a white man who bribed +him—that’s a long story in itself. The briber was +killed the day of the theft. The young priest was +suspected, and tortured until he became a hunchback +and outcast, but no confession could be gotten. +In the years the blame has been laid on the white +man’s devil, who stole the Chinese devils and took +them to his home, when the white master was +killed. The peculiar kink of the Chinese mind +would not let the thief confess or return the devils. +He couldn’t see where the mere restitution would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>expiate his sin. The only way he could figure was +to wait until some one came with enough money +to pray him into heaven for a hundred years after +he had gone. Peculiar cusses, the Chinese.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He rose at the last word, and the others rose +with him. The Japanese was unwinding yard after +yard of two-inch silken strips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ah!” It was more than an exclamation: it +was a three-man-power cry of amazement, wonder, +and surprise as the captain lifted the thing from +the box and set it gently on the table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Great guns!” gasped the dissipated-looking +youth, backing away a step and stopping with a +sheepish grin.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The Seven Golden Devils of Sin with the single +eye!” announced the captain, with a flourish.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The men stared at the most curious-looking +object they had ever seen. At first glance it seemed +merely a spidery collection of arms and legs; then +seven figures stood out, separately and distinctly, +grouped closely together. In the centre stood the +shortest; around him, in every conceivable position, +were six others. Their bodies were grotesquely +deformed, their backs misshapen, their limbs +twisted; and the genius who had fashioned the +thing of his dull, hand-hammered gold in the +centuries gone, had given to the bodies and limbs +the distortion of horrible agony.</p> + +<p class='c008'>But it was the head; the single head that surmounted +the seven bodies, which held their +attention. The face was hideous; but in the very +hideousness the gold worker had put cunning, +power, strength. The thick lips leered a smile of +satanic triumph; the cheek bones were high, +oblique. And above the squat, wide-nostriled +nose was a single eye! It was a pearl, perfect, +flawless: milk-white against the red-yellow gold.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>As they stared there seemed to come into the +single eye of pearl a glow of red, as though the heart +of the great jewel were a spark of fire that shone +through the lustred surface. It was a trick of the +lights, perhaps, or the reflected colour of the overhanging +brow, but to the men who watched, it +seemed that the eye held all the malevolence and +cruelty of the Pit itself.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The devilish thing gives a man the creeps!” +growled Meynerd; and his hand shook a bit as he +took the cigarette from his lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Joslyn laughed jerkily, for the spell of the thing +was on him, too.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Better cut out a few of those high balls, Mey,” +he taunted.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A flush of resentment mounted the youth’s +cheeks; but the captain forestalled his angry reply.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Those figures represent the seven sins, each one +enough to keep a Chinese from his heaven. The +one in the centre, though the shortest and most +horribly deformed of all, has the biggest and +strongest body. That is Deceit, the most powerful +of devils. The Mongolian reasons that none of the +other devils can enter the heart of man unless +deceit has entered first.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Excellent philosophy, that,” commented Wilson.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That is why the head rests on the centre figure +and the bodies of the others are bent forward to +meet it,” continued the captain. “Notice, too, +that though the limbs are terribly twisted, and the +bodies scarred to symbolize the awful punishment +the gods have inflicted on the wicked seducers of +men’s hearts, the head is perfect, showing that the +devils can still think with their one head, and plan +traps for the unwary. And the eye”—his face +lighted with the enthusiasm of the collector—“the +wonderful eye that is all-seeing, alert to catch the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>first sign of weakening in the lowest coolie in the +kingdom. That, gentlemen, is the thing I worked +years to get; the thing that nearly cost me my +life a dozen times—the Eye of the Seven Devils! +The most wonderful pearl in the world; the pearl +with a heart of fire!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Funny the thief priest didn’t pry out the eye +and sell it to buy his prayers, without risking getting +rid of the whole thing,” put in Joslyn.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s the wonder of the thing!” exclaimed +the captain. “By some method that no one has +ever been able to fathom, the maker of the thing +set the stone in such a way that it can’t be taken +out without cutting the whole thing to pieces. +The pearl appears merely pasted in its socket, but +the microscope can see, in the space around it, that +the jewel is gripped in four prongs that fit into tiny +holes bored in the back of the pearl. The space +around it is so narrow that no instrument of +strength, sufficient to cut or break the prongs, can +be inserted. And if it could, the very act would +cause the gem to chip, and, perhaps, split. That is +the way the maker made theft impossible!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Wouldn’t mind having the pearl,” growled +Meynerd, “but I’d throw the rest of it in a sewer.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The tanned cheeks of Captain Richards went a +dull red with anger, and his moustache bristled; +but Wilson cut in to prevent an open break.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Let’s have a little drink.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The servant, who had stuffed the last silk strip +into the empty case, straightened up.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“High ball,” grunted Meynerd.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Another absinthe drip,” added Joslyn.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Bourbon,” ordered Wilson, and the captain +nodded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Silence followed the going of the servant. The +captain took out his watch, glanced at it, chewed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>his cigar almost nervously, and lounged back in +the chair he had taken beside Joslyn. The eyes of +the others wandered around the room, but always +returned to the twisted bodies of the seven devils +of the single eye. The thing of hand-wrought +metal on the table seemed to exert an uncanny +influence over men who had never known superstition. +As the silent seconds passed there came a +tension in the mood of all. Each found himself +continually catching the other’s eye, only to glance +hastily and sheepishly away. And the twisted +devil mouth leered at them; in the smouldering +fire of the devil eye seemed infinite scorn.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The return of the servant with the tray of drinks +made each one sit up eagerly. The Japanese went +to the captain first and held out a card.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Hustle the high ball,” growled Meynerd. The +Jap hurried over. Meynerd’s unsteady hands had +spilled a third of the liquor before Wilson took the +small carafe from his shaking hands and poured the +remainder over the ice. The youth growled monosyllabic +thanks. Captain Richards whistled as +Meynerd tossed his drink off at a gulp.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Going to leave us, captain?” asked Joslyn, +poking his straws farther down in the cracked ice +of the absinthe.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Captain Richards looked up from the card he +held between his thumb and forefinger. “Puzzling +thing,” he prefaced. “Here’s the card of Ching +Li Chu.” His eyes went again to the pasteboard +as he read: “Secretary to the ambassador at +Washington of the Imperial Chinese Republic.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What does he want?” asked Wilson. +“That?” He jerked his head toward the table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How on earth―⁠―” Sudden decision cleared +the look of puzzlement from the captain’s brow. +“Send him in, Nesu,” he ordered.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>“Chink devils, chink secretaries,” grinned +Meynerd. The liquor had pulled his nerves +together again, and his lips curved in contempt +when he caught Joslyn stealing a covert glance +toward the table, as the door opened.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The man who entered, unquestionably a +Mongolian, had a lean, intelligent face. The eyes, +but slightly aslant, looked straight before him, +giving no sign that they even saw the seated men, +but stared fixedly at the table and its thing of gold. +In the centre of the room the Chinese stopped and +made a deep obeisance, once, twice, thrice. A low +laugh of contempt came from Meynerd’s lips, but +the Chinese paid no heed. He walked to the table, +and for several silent seconds gazed steadily into +the eye of the pearl. With another deep bow he +turned, his eyes searching each face.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Captain Richards?” His voice was low, +mellow, with no trace of accent.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I am he!” The captain rose from his seat and +bowed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So my information was correct; it is the Seven +Devils with the True Eye.” Again the Chinese +bowed toward the figures. Once more Meynerd +laughed sneeringly. This time the Mongolian +turned toward him inquiringly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You do not mock me,” he rebuked, mildly. +“Your mockery is of the Seven Devils. I would +be careful, were I you.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Bah!” Meynerd set down his empty glass. +“I didn’t know you fellows worshipped devils, and +little gold devils on a table, at that.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Nor do we.” Still that mild, even voice. “We +worship our gods; but we are careful not to incur the +wrath of our devils. The gods may forgive the ignorant +mocker; the devils slay. That I believe, and I am no +coolie, but a man educated in your own universities.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>“Drunken kid!” muttered the captain, his +fingers moving along the table-edge as he leaned +against it. “You wanted to see me on business?” +he asked the Chinese.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. I wish to pay you one hundred thousand +dollars for the golden Seven Devils of Sin!” The +amazement this announcement caused showed +plainly on each man’s face. The Chinese went on: +“The new republic seeks to unite its people, but +throughout the province of Chingtu it is known that +the lost Seven Devils has been taken from the +country. They demand that the new government +see that it is returned if they are to believe that +government’s power. Our failure will mean a +costly and bloody war, for the Yunling mountain +men are fighters who know every inch of its vast +slopes.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So my six months of devious routes and constant +guarding amounted to nothing.” The +captain’s lips smiled grimly, but there was a light +in his eyes that had not been there before. “I +suppose the priest is being honoured for having been +told by the gods that the white dog had stolen +the thing.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Prayer papers have been burning this last five +months for the hunchback,” said the Chinese, +quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Um.” The smile left the captain’s lips. He +shook his head. “I will not sell,” he declared, and +there was finality in his voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>It seemed a full minute before any one spoke. +The noiseless Jap servant industriously picked up +small tufts of cotton that had fallen to the rug +back of the table. Joslyn set his glass, with its +green-tinged cracked ice on the table, clinkingly, +and the captain’s eyes left the Mongolian’s face as +the noise attracted them. Meynerd’s lips still +<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>grinned contemptuously as he spun the piece of +ice around in his empty high-ball glass.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The devils can only bring sorrow to you.” The +voice of the Chinese was deep, full of sincerity. +“Perhaps death, for in your country there will be +mockers, and, as I told your friend, the devils slay +those who mock them.” His deep eyes rested on +Meynerd. The face of the youth went red for an +instant; then the sneer came back.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Like to see ’em kill me!” he said, boastfully. +“A chink knife in back might, but no pigeon-toed +gang of devils with one eye could!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do not speak that way!” There was stern +reproof in the tone of the Chinese. “You may +know the things of the West, but there are things +of the East that you do not know!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is that so!” Meynerd shook off the restraining +hand of Wilson and stood up. The face of the +captain went white with rage, and his hands +fumbled with the handkerchief he had been in the +act of lifting to his brow.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Be a gentleman!” he snapped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Meynerd paid no heed. “Here’s to you devils!” +he laughed, sneeringly. “Long may you wave—in +a glass case!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The mockers kotow before they die!” The +words came rapidly, almost hissingly, from the lips +of the Chinese.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Here’s to crime!” Meynerd stood in front of +the golden devils and drained the last drops of his +drink. A gasp came from the Japanese as he backed +away a step, his hand full of cotton tufts he had +picked up from the floor. Captain Richards +crushed the handkerchief in his hand as he brushed +his lips. Every eye in the room was on the gently +swaying man with the glass to his lips.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Suddenly Meynerd’s face went livid; the glass +<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>fell to the floor. Slowly his knees bent. For a +second he seemed to kneel before the leering face of +gold. His body fell forward. His forehead +touched the ground. Then the limbs straightened +convulsively, and he lay still.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The seated men jumped to their feet, with +exclamations of horror. The Chinese, face impassive, +leaned over and touched the pulse of the +man on the floor. Then he looked up into the +faces of the three white-faced men who bent over +him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He is dead,” said the Mongolian, quietly. +“The devils have slain.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Mechanically, involuntarily, they turned toward +the hideous thing on the table. As one the startled +cry came from three pairs of lips:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“<em>The Eye! The Eye!</em>”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The twisted, thick lips of gold still leered at +them, but where the eye of pearl had been, only an +empty socket seemed to stare down at the dead +man on the floor.</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>II.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>“Pawn to king five and checkmate.” Thornley +Colton took a final puff of his cigarette, and dropped +it in the ash tray beside the chessboard.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames, the apple cheeked, black-haired +secretary to the blind problemist, laughed ruefully. +“I almost believe that you could beat me with +pawns alone, Thorn,” he declared, looking over the +pieces on the board.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your whole game is attack,” Colton observed. +“You forget all about defence. Another?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames merely nodded, and silently rearranged +the pieces on the board. “Three and pawn again?” +he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, if you―⁠―” The ringing telephone-bell +<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>on the desk broke in, and Sydney rose to answer it. +He returned almost on the run.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s Captain Richards, at the Wanderers’ +Club,” he began, breathlessly. “He wants you at +once. He said something about a murder, and the +eye of some seven devils of sin, as near as I could +understand.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thornley Colton’s mobile face, whose paleness +was strikingly accentuated by the great blue circles +of the tortoise-rimmed library glasses that shielded +his sightless eyes from all glares, lighted up with +interest. “Is he still on the wire?” He rose as +he asked the question.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames shook his head. “He blurted out the +message and rang right off. He seemed positive +you’d come.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>A faint smile came to Thornley Colton’s lips. +“I guess he knew that a single breath from the +Orient would interest me.” He touched the call-button +on the desk that would summon the big +black automobile instantly, at any hour of the day +or night. “I hadn’t any idea Captain Richards had +returned. I haven’t seen him for years.” The +smile left his face. “My fingers have been itching +to see those wonderful Seven Devils I’ve heard so +much about.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your interest in things Chinese is beyond me,” +confessed Sydney, as he followed the blind man +out of the room and down the stairs.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You were in college the last four years I spent +in China, Sydney.” Colton spoke as the chauffeur +closed the tonneau-door of the touring car, and +threw in the gears. “The lure of the East has +never gotten out of my veins. To a man who can +see, China must be wonderful. To me it is marvellous. +Old, satiated of every human emotion +before we discovered emotion; a view-point as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>incomprehensible as the hereafter itself; a character +that cannot be visualized—why, Sydney, to men of +eyes, the lure of China is the lure of a beautiful +picture. <a id='tn-unattainable'></a>To me it is the lure of the unattainable.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Something like the mystery of woman?” +asked Sydney Thames, seriously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Not at all.” The slim cane waved an impatient +gesture over the side of the car. “The so-called +mystery of woman is her constantly shifting view-point +dependent on outside influences; the mystery +of the Chinese is his undeviating view-point.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Too deep for me,” laughed Thames; then he +swung open the door as the car stopped before the +great Gothic door-way of the Wanderers’ Club.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The mantle of tragedy hung heavily over the +luxurious, exclusive interior of the famous club as +they entered. In the main lounging-room a small +group of members talked in hushed whispers, and +their nervous starts at each sound belied the +reputations most of them had gained as travellers +in countries where danger lurked constantly. The +servitors, usually alert, swift to receive and execute +an order, moved with lagging footsteps. Thornley +Colton recognised the atmosphere of uneasiness +immediately, and a cynical smile flashed across his +thin lips as he understood the cause. The +Wanderers, rich seekers of excitement and danger +in foreign countries, hard-headed, with nerves of +steel when face to face with violent death, had +fallen under the spell of the uncanny, the supernatural.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The chief steward, from his vantage-point at the +head of the stairs, spied them and hurried down.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s—they’re upstairs, sir.” A scared note was +in his voice. “The physician has just this minute +arrived. The police haven’t been told. Captain +Richards thought maybe―⁠― It’s terrible, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>“Very, Peters,” nodded Colton, absently, as he +followed the man up the broad staircase, and to +himself he muttered, “Lucky the police haven’t had +a chance to bungle it. Very, very lucky.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The instant they opened the door Captain +Richards bounded across the floor to meet them. +“Thank God you came, Mr. Colton!” he cried, +shaking the hand of the blind man with more than +heartiness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Who was it?” asked Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Meynerd. The doctor’s trying to find the +cause of death now.” He nodded his head toward +the broad leather couch against the wall, with its +grim occupant, and the physician bending over it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton asked a dozen crisp, terse questions. The +answers he got told him the whole story. The +captain introduced him to every one in the room, +and Colton shook their hands, even to the obsequious +Japanese servant, who stood patiently awaiting +orders, near the wall.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The doctor finished his examination and +straightened up. “Heart-failure,” he announced. +“Brought on by alcoholic excesses, I should judge, +and probably superinduced by excitement.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Strange that the hand of God should have +descended at the exact moment chosen by a thief to +steal the pearl,” remarked Colton quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You don’t think it’s murder?” There was a +queer chokiness in Captain Richards’s voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“<em>Yes!</em>” Colton shot out the word as he stood +in the centre of the room, turning his head slowly, +as though his sightless eyes were trying to surprise +some expression of guilt on the white faces of the +men. Wilson’s hands gripped his chair-arms so +tightly that the knuckles cracked. Joslyn stretched +an arm toward the glass, with its green-tinged ice +on the table, but withdrew it quickly, to let his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>hands fall on his knees. The Japanese servant’s +foot shifted nervously over a small wad of cotton +that had fallen from his hands, minutes before. +Only the Chinese was unmoved.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Neither the gods nor the devils murder,” he +said. “They kill.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man nodded toward him, slowly. +“True,” he answered, and his voice was serious. +“But when the killing is done by human instruments, +<a id='tn-murder'></a>the law calls it murder.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You are of the West,” shrugged the Mongolian.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the whole thing is impossible!” There +seemed almost a whine of incredulous protest in +Captain Richards’s voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Does the impossible happen?” Colton’s voice +was sharp, curt. “No! But the improbable does! +A hundred times a day! Every time a perfect +match fails to strike an improbable thing has +happened. Because that thing on the table +hypnotized your eyes into waking the superstition +that is the mental appendix handed down through +the thousand centuries, you say that <em>it</em> is impossible. +What is impossible? Meynerd’s death? The fact +that he was killed? My statement that he was +murdered? Or do you mean that each one of you +is so wise that no one could have deceived you? +Yet the eye is gone! And even if the devils had +killed Meynerd, would they have stolen their own +eye?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Each crisp sentence fairly sizzled as he shot it +out. The hand that held his slim, hollow cane, +that gave its messages to his super-sensitive finger-tips, +waved up and down for emphasis, touching +blindly the table, the golden devils, and some part +of each man’s body as he paced back and forth +across the floor.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>“A man can’t give another man heart-failure to +kill him,” declared the physician, pompously.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Can’t!” The smile on the problemist’s face +was sardonic as he faced the doctor. “Then no +murder was ever committed. If a man’s heart +didn’t fail he’d keep right on living. What +caused Meynerd’s heart to fail is the thing we’ve +got to find out. Do you know how Meynerd fell?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No, immaterial details―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Very material!” The blind man interrupted +brusquely. “Every diagnostician should be a +detective, and I might mention right here that one +of the greatest surgeons and diagnosticians in +America is a blind man. You should know that a +man standing as Meynerd stood, suddenly stricken +with heart-disease, would fall flat on his back. Yet +he fell on his knees, his body bent forward so that +his forehead touched the ground for an instant +before it relaxed.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“By Jove—I supposed―⁠―” the physician +sputtered his chagrin. Then his face brightened. +“Some caustic, causing a griping in the intestines.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Exactly.” The sharpness had gone from the +detective’s voice now, and he spoke in his old calm, +even tone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He drank a toast!” Even as he spoke, the +doctor’s foot crunched a bit of the broken glass on +the floor.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You’d have to analyze the rug,” reminded +Colton. “And who had the chance?” He +looked around inquiringly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Wilson poured his drink!” The words came +in a gasp from Joslyn.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Wilson sprang to his feet with an oath. “Are +you accusing me of killing him?” He snarled the +question, but his face was white.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Meynerd had gulped his drink even before +<span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>Ching Li Chu entered,” suddenly remembered +Captain Richards. “There was only a few drops of +the melted ice-water in his glass when he stood +before the Seven Devils.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“There are poisons that act after minutes have +passed.” The even, monotonous voice of the +Chinese broke in.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you think the poisoner knew to the second +when Meynerd’s drunken folly would take the +turn it did?” demanded Colton; and each man in +the room recognised the menace in his tone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A gleam flashed to the eyes of the Mongolian for +an instant, then vanished. “The instruments of +the gods and the devils cannot fail,” he answered, +quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No poison known could be timed like that,” +declared Colton, positively.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Right!” growled Wilson, as he resumed his +seat and darted a glance of new-born hatred across +the room toward the man who had virtually accused +him of the murder.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Again came silence as the blind man stood in the +centre of the room, alternately brushing the rug +where lay the untouched pieces of the broken high-ball +glass, and swishing at his trouser-leg. Across his +high, white forehead, and at his eye-corners behind +the round, blue glasses, innumerable fine lines +deepened as his wonderful brain worked: visualizing +each object in the room, every detail in the picture, +every action that must have taken place at the +instant of hopeless confusion when Meynerd had +pitched forward on the floor.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Immovable, the men watched, each tense for the +first word or movement to break the suspense. +Sydney Thames sat in his chair, with his eyes fixed +on the devils of gold. Ever since he had entered +the room the thing on the table had held him +<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>fascinated. More sinister, more fiendish than ever, +without its single eye of pearl, the empty eye +socket seemed to glare at him as though it gloated +over the repugnant fascination it exerted. Sydney +had heard the captain’s story; in his mind’s eye +he could picture the toast, the sneers, the fall. <em>Had</em> +the devils killed Meynerd?—as the Chinese had +said they would. Then his eyes narrowed slightly +as they went to the Mongolian, whose impassive +face showed nothing of the thoughts behind the +bright, slit eyes. He had said that death would +follow. He was a Chinese—of a race to whom a +life means nothing; a race of mystery. Then his +eyes went to the Jap servant who stood against the +wall, patiently waiting permission to leave the room; +then, at the two scowling men, who carefully +avoided each other’s glances as they stared straight +ahead of them—at nothing. Wilson had poured the +drink. Why had Joslyn been so quick to tell the +fact?</p> + +<p class='c008'>Suddenly the swishing taps of the blind man’s +cane ceased; the lines across his forehead and at +his eye-corners vanished. “There is one way.” +He spoke apparently to himself. “Only one way.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He crossed the room to the couch where the dead +man lay, his face covered with a handkerchief. He +pulled aside the coat, and unloosed a button of the +thin silk shirt. From his vest-pocket he took a +small rubber band, and the watching men saw him +put it around the middle finger of his right hand, +until the black rubber strands were deep sunken in +the flesh. Then, gingerly, as though he were +testing the heat of a red-hot stove, he opened the +shirt, and with the tourniqueted finger gently +touched the skin of Meynerd. Slowly, very slowly, +the finger moved over the cold flesh of the dead +man, then stopped.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>“See, doctor!” He held the banded finger +aloft. The physician’s ejaculation of amazement +was echoed by every other man in the room, but the +unemotional Chinese and the well-trained servant. +On the tip of the blind man’s finger was a drop of +blood!</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And see here!” His fingers, holding the shirt +back, exposed an inch or so of the dead man’s +skin. Four men bent their heads to see the small +smear of red Colton’s finger had left when it had +brushed away the single blood-drop.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t understand.” There was no doubt of +the physician’s bewilderment.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton pulled the coat back and stood erect. +“The most diabolically primitive of all murderous +weapons,” he said. “A poisoned dart.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But who? How?” gasped the captain.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” the blind +man said, curtly. With his pocket-knife he carefully +cut the strands of the rubber and gently massaged +the swollen, blood-congested finger. “A nasty +thing to try to locate with delicate finger-tips,” he +remarked, casually. “A big chance that the thing +hadn’t penetrated its full length, as this one had, +and a scratch would have meant another dead man.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames’s face lost its last vestige of +colour as he realized that once again the blind man +had toyed with death. A hundred times had +Thames seen the problemist—the benefactor who +had picked him up on the bank of the English +river from which came his only name—take his life +in his hands for the sake of solving one of the crime-puzzles +he loved; but always before there had been +a chance for a fight against men with lesser brains. +This time a single scratch of his feeling finger would +have killed him instantly, horribly; just as the +mocker of the Seven Devils had been killed by the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>man among them who had coveted the wonderful +pearl that had been the eye. And that man―⁠―</p> + +<p class='c008'>Joslyn laughed a jerky laugh of nervousness as +he turned away and reached out his hand for the +glass that had held his absinthe. The ice had +melted partially, and there was a half-inch or so of +the pale-green liquid showing through the cracked-ice +crystals.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Don’t touch that glass!” The command came, +shot-like, from the lips of Colton. He lowered the +slim cane that had touched Joslyn’s leg and warned +him of the movement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Joslyn withdrew his hand as if it had suddenly +touched fire.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Why? Wh-y?” he gasped, and his face was +pasty white.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because I don’t want you to kill yourself!” +The blind man’s hand moved to pick up the glass. +He held it up and gingerly poked into the ice with +his fingers. A grim smile came to his lips, and he +dumped the whole thing on the polished top of the +mahogany table. Colton’s eight fingers seemed to +touch every piece of ice in a single instant, so +quickly did they move. Then his fore-finger +separated a small pile of curiously-shaped crystals.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Broken glass!” The exclamation came from +the physician.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton corroborated him with a nod, and spoke +to the still pasty-faced Joslyn. “Some of the +smaller particles would surely have gone down your +throat.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Joslyn’s Adam’s apple moved convulsively for a +moment. “What is it?” he gulped, finally.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The broken glass-tube that was used to shoot +the poisoned dart; probably not more than two +inches long, because of the short distance, and of +the thinnest glass, with just this object in view.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>“But how on earth did it get there?” puzzled +Captain Richards.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll bet it wasn’t there five minutes ago!” +Wilson cried; and every man in the room remembered +Joslyn’s movement toward the glass a few +minutes before.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The suave voice of the Chinese cut in. “Might I +be informed how one who is blind could know of +the glass?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because the cracked ice made an absolutely +perfect hiding-place for fine pieces of broken glass. +If dropped on the floor with the bigger, thicker +pieces of high-ball glass, the difference would have +been immediately noted. I discovered that it had +been a frappéd drink when I walked up and down +before the table and talked.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Ching Li Chu rose and bowed gravely toward +the golden thing on the table. “Truly, the wisdom +of the gods and of the devils is infinite,” he said, in +his even voice. “But one man has such a drink. +The devils chose him to protect their emissary!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Pretty philosophy,” admitted Colton, “made +grim by the fact that some one must suffer for being +the devils’ tool.” He turned to face the silent +Japanese servant, who stood still by the wall. +“Tell the steward he can notify the police now, +Nesu.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The sunny Japanese smile that had been missing +so long came to the little servitor’s face, and he took +a step forward to obey the order.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“What about the pearl?” asked Captain +Richards, suddenly. “This man shouldn’t get out +until he has been searched. A sixty-five-thousand-dollar +gem would tempt ’most any one.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton broke in, amazedly: “Hasn’t the search +been made yet?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No.” The captain stammered over the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>monosyllable. “I called you as quickly as I could +get to a telephone, after warning every one to +stay in the room. I knew you were a member +here, and clever at this sort of thing. The police +are such asses, you know, and the scandal―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Again the blind man cut him short. “Because +there seemed no possible way by which the jewel +could have been stolen—if the stories I heard of +the famous Seven Devils, when I was first in China +twenty years ago, are true—logically the jewel +could be nowhere. Is that it?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Something like that.” The tan on the captain’s +cheeks was a deeper tinge than usual.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The jewel is nowhere.” The Chinese spoke +solemnly, earnestly, almost reverently. “The +devils have merely hidden it from the sight of +mockers. My government will give you one +hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the Seven +Devils without the True Eye.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So that’s it!” The captain’s voice was almost +a shout; the tone one of a man who has made a +great discovery. “<em>You</em> have it! You killed +Meynerd to make me sell, eh?” He advanced a +step, threateningly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The police will attend to that part!” warned +the blind man, curtly. “Search Nesu—or go +yourself.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He turned to the table, and his wonderful fingers, +each one an eye that could see things the eye of a +normal man could not discern, touched the twisted +limbs of one of the Seven Devils.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Come over nearer the light, Nesu,” ordered +Captain Richards, and the serious-faced Japanese +followed him around the table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The attention of the silent men in the room was +divided between the search of the Jap and Colton’s +examination of the thing on the table. At times +<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>the blind man’s fingers moved swiftly over the +dull-gold surface; at others they seemed to rest for +seconds, unmoving, only to resume their journey, +slowly. Each man in the room understood, subconsciously, +that those marvellous finger-tips would +give to the sightless man a mind-picture as perfect +as that their eyes had given them—more perfect, +perhaps.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“All right!” There was a growl of chagrin in +the captain’s voice, as he finished the search. The +little Jap pattered out.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Didn’t find it, eh?” Colton spoke idly, without +raising his head. His right forefinger was gently +probing into the empty eye-socket. He put his +hand in his vest-pocket for an instant, then felt +again where the pearl had been, first with one +finger, then another.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Strange,” they heard him murmur. “Strange.” +Then he whirled to face them. “The prongs that +held the pearl are unbent and unbroken! They +are exactly as they were when they gripped the +jewel! Yet it is gone!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I want to search you, Ching!” There was no +mistaking the threat in Captain Richards’s tone +this time.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Calmly, disdainfully, the Mongolian raised his +arms and stood ready. Richards explored every +thread of his clothing. There was no doubt he had +done similar things before; not a pin could have +escaped him. He stepped back with a muttered +curse of bafflement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Go through me, too.” It was a snarl from +Joslyn; the snarl of a man whose nerves are +raw.</p> + +<p class='c008'>No second invitation was needed. Thornley +Colton stood leaning against the table, his back +toward the golden devils. He idly swished his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>cane and apparently watched every move. Wilson +was searched—and there was nothing.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The thief who had brains and nerve enough to +commit that theft would certainly know enough +not to have the pearl in his clothing,” observed +Colton, quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s in the room here, then,” growled the loser +of the pearl, pacing the floor. “I’ll tear it apart! +That jewel was worth sixty-five thousand!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You haven’t searched Meynerd’s clothes yet. +Every one in the room had a chance to secrete it +there—temporarily,” suggested Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The captain’s face went white, and he shuddered +as his eyes went to the body of the man whose +death had been caused by the thing of gold he had +brought into the room. “I’m not a ghoul,” he +choked. “The police can attend to that part of it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I think I hear them coming now; the tread +is unmistakable.” The problemist took a firmer +grip on his cane with the hand that was not in his +pocket. “They can mess things as badly as they +want to now; I’ve finished.” He took a step +toward the door, then turned to face them—the +captain, the physician, who had not spoken for +minutes, Joslyn, Wilson, and the silent Chinese. +“If you’ll bring the Seven Devils to my house at +six-thirty this evening, captain, I will show you +the pearl, and handcuff the man who killed Meynerd!” +Another step, and he halted again. “All of you +must come, for only the guilty one will want to stay +away. <em>All</em>, especially Ching Li Chu!”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>III.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>Guided by the touch of Sydney Thames’s sleeve +against his, the blind man made his way through +the crowd of curious, idle persons, whom the sight +<span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>of a policeman entering a building always attracts +in New York. From the precinct station around +the corner had come two uniformed men, and two +detectives on the run, to answer the murder-call +that had gone out. Colton and his secretary had +met them coming up the stairs, and the problemist +had given curt nods to their gruff greetings. Nearly +every detective in the city knew the blind man; +and he knew all of them by the sound of their +voices, just as he knew the voices of a thousand +other men. A hundred times his abilities had made +their efforts look ridiculous, and scores of the city-paid +sleuths refused to believe that he was blind. +Nor did any one in the morbid crowd that opened +before him suspect that the slight touch of cloth +against cloth was guiding him in the darkness that +had been his since birth.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Leaning back in the soft cushions of the tonneau, +Thornley Colton lighted a cigarette and took several +deep puffs. The machine had started without +orders, as it always did when there was any one +around who might hear. For several blocks they +went in silence; then Colton leaned forward.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Osmuhn’s, Fifth Avenue, Michael,” he directed.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A jewellery shop?” asked Sydney Thames, in +surprise.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. I am going to make sure of every +property for the last scene. There can’t be a chance +of failure!” There was an ominous ring in his +voice.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You speak as though you knew the murderer +and the thief!” cried Thames, in amazement. <a id='tn-idontsee'></a>“I +don’t see―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You <em>do</em> see!” interrupted the blind man, with +unconscious sharpness. “Like the average person, +you see too much. To any one with perfect eyes +the whole thing is a jumble, for the murder of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>Meynerd was planned—devilishly planned—to make +possible the one minute of hopeless confusion +necessary to steal the jewel. The eyes of the men +in that room could see but one thing, then—the +mocker of the devils. Nothing could have drawn +their gaze from Meynerd! That is the one fault of +eyes. In great crises they numb every other +sense!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But if you know the murderer, why not arrest +him at once?” asked Sydney, his brain trying to +fix upon the one man who could be guilty.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Because I’m not a policeman. The arrest of +the guilty person is always secondary, with me, to +the complete solving of a problem. A crime-puzzle +is never solved until the guilt of the prisoner is +established beyond <em>all</em> question. No, Sydney, I’m +not a detective, for a detective arrests, and then +tries to fix the guilt. I fix the guilt first. That is +the problem in this case!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Joslyn and Wilson certainly acted queer,” +mused Sydney. “The Chinese, too, seemed +strange.” A new thought flashed to his mind. +“There is something Oriental about that murder!” +he exclaimed, suddenly. “A dart, and a poison +which could act like that!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton nodded as he flicked his cigarette into the +street. “Devilishly Oriental, Sydney,” he said, +quietly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ching Li Chu!” gasped Sydney. “He―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Is secretary of a foreign legation, and therefore +immune from arrest. Also, I think he could prove +absolutely that he was standing in such a position +that he could not have shot the poisoned dart at +Meynerd!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>The machine swung into the curb before the shop +of Osmuhn & Son. Colton alighted and hurried +into the shop, followed by Sydney. He knew every +<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>step here, for he had learned them in the days +when the problem of the Thousand Facets of Fire +had interested him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The elder Osmuhn came forward with a smile of +welcome and extended hand. Colton swung his +slim stick under his left arm and extended his left +hand; the other had been in his pocket since they +had left the room in the Wanderers’ Club.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I want to get an imitation pearl the size of this +finger-tip, with small holes drilled in the back at +exactly these distances apart.” He drew his right +hand from his pocket, and Thames saw that his +right index-finger was smudged with ink, and on +the middle finger were four dots of black, at equal +distances around the finger-tip. “A bit of ink from +my fountain pen on the four prongs, then I got the +marks, to tell me where the holes had been, when I +poked my middle finger into the eye-socket,” he +explained to his secretary.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Come into my office,” requested Osmuhn. +“We have some imitation gems that we use merely +to show sizes. They wouldn’t fool an expert for a +minute.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I don’t want them to,” Thornley Colton smiled, +faintly. “I only want him to feel the gem.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ah, another of your problems.” Osmuhn pulled +open a velvet-lined drawer. “Hold out your +finger, please.” He adjusted a small caliper over +the tip, and with a smaller one measured the +distances between the dots. “How soon do you +want it?” he asked, when he had made several +cabalistic notes on his small desk pad.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“As soon as possible.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“In two hours, then.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton nodded and hurried out.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Police headquarters,” he ordered, when the +tonneau-door had clicked shut behind Sydney.</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>“So soon?” asked the secretary, in wonderment.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Griffith and Jensen, the two detectives we +passed on the stairs, are, perhaps, the most dull-witted +in New York. Naturally they’d be on hand +in a case like this. The thing will be bungled +hopelessly if I let them have their way. After they +have been shown the facts I gathered”—a grim +smile hovered on his lips for a second—“they’ll +have every one in the room under arrest, even +Captain Richards. I want them all—<em>all</em>—at my +house to-night.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames knew the futility of further questions. +Colton would do the thing in his own way, and +explain when the time came. So they rode in +silence to the big building that housed the central +departments of the big force.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“While I’m inside, Sydney, call up Shrimp and +tell him to get an inch auger and the most powerful +pocket tubular flash-light he can buy.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“An auger and a flash-light?” repeated the +secretary.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“More scenery,” explained the blind man, +laconically. “If I had been in the room when the +murder was committed, my lack of eyes would +have enabled me to detect the murderer-thief in +the very act. Now I must carefully work on his +nerves until I have the confession. And I’ll do it!” +Again there was the ominous ring in his voice that +Sydney had noticed every time the blind man spoke +of the murderer.</p> + +<p class='c008'>With a curt nod of emphasis, Colton turned on +his heel and walked briskly into headquarters, +unerringly finding his way through the corridors +he had travelled many times before.</p> + +<p class='c008'>There was no doubt of The Fee’s delight when +Sydney Thames gave him the strange order. “Gee! +<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>Anoder case!” came his squeal of joy over the wire. +“An’ the arm I got broke in the gilded-glove thing +is all right. You bet I’ll get ’em!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney smiled as he rang off. Nothing pleased +the freckle-faced, blue-eyed boy, with the slightly-twisted +nose, who had become a member of the +Colton household at the conclusion of a particularly +baffling murder case, like participation in one of the +blind man’s problems. But since the affair of the +gilded glove, Colton had been careful to keep the +irrepressible youngster out of all harm’s way.</p> + +<p class='c008'>For half-an-hour Sydney sat in the automobile +and puzzled over the theft and the murder, the use +of the imitation eye, the request for an auger and a +flash-light. Then Colton came out of headquarters.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“One more stop,” he said, as the car glided away +from the curb. “Five o’clock,” he announced, as +his fingers touched the face of the crystalless watch +in his pocket. “Just time for the call, a hurried +bite, and then the dénouement.” He leaned forward +to speak to the driver. “The Waldorf,” was +the order he gave.</p> + +<p class='c008'>At the big desk of the famous hotel, Colton’s +low-voiced inquiry brought an involuntary +ejaculation of amazement from Sydney Thames. +The blind man had asked for the Chinese +ambassador.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Not here!” declared the man at the desk +with a positiveness that only hotel-clerks can +assume when they are lying.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Tell him I’d like to see him in regard to the +Seven Devils of Sin.” Colton’s voice was quiet and +even, but there was something in it that commanded +respect—and got it.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I’ll see!” The clerk turned to the house +switchboard, and a few minutes later Thames and +the blind man were being ushered to the suite of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>the diplomat. The ambassador, unlike his secretary, +who had worn clothes of the latest cut, was dressed +in robes rich with embroidery. He looked at them +inquiringly as they entered, and the man at his +side bowed deeply.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“His excellency bids you welcome,” the +interpreter said, in precise English.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I came to tell you that the eye of the Seven +Devils has been stolen, and one of my countrymen +murdered to make the theft possible,” Colton said, +without preamble or preface.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The interpreter might have been a graven image +for all the expression that came to his face. He +bowed again, and spoke in Chinese to the ambassador. +When the diplomat had answered him, he +spoke again to Colton.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“His excellency says that the thing of which you +speak is impossible. The devils would not allow +it. The eye of the Seven Devils of Sin disappears +for a week every hundred years, and has done so +for centuries at the Yunling temple.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ah!” There was a note of quiet satisfaction +in the problemist’s voice as though sudden light +had been thrown on an obscure point. “How did +his excellency know where the devils were?” he +asked, gravely.</p> + +<p class='c008'>For several minutes the two Chinese talked. +Colton stood in the middle of the floor, idly switching +his trouser-leg with his slim stick, apparently +paying no attention to the two Chinese. But Sydney +Thames knew that the keen ears of the blind man +were taking in every word; for he knew that the +problemist understood the language perfectly! +What were the two Mongolians talking about? +Why the discussion before such a simple question +could be answered?</p> + +<p class='c008'>Then the interpreter spoke. “The gods decreed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>that his excellency should know the exact place +and the hour at which it would be ready,” he said, +solemnly. “The devils stirred to anger the people +of Chingtu against the white rogue who so cleverly +outwitted the Yunling mountain men. But the +gods found him, after months had passed, so the +anger of the devils might be appeased and the +people made content.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Thank you.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames thought he detected a dryness +in the words, but the look on the blind man’s face +as he left the room augured ill for some one.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I can’t see how apparently intelligent men can +believe such rot!” declared Sydney, impatiently.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The undeviating view-point, Sydney, the +undeviating view-point. That religion has been +ingrained for centuries and tens of centuries. No +Western knowledge can ever change it.” A peculiar +smile came to his lips. “They never consider the +incongruity of the gods helping them find devils—no +more than they would consider a human life +beside that thing of gold we left on the table at the +club.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames tried to read the expression on the +blind man’s face; but there was no expression. +Was the Chinese the murderer? Then what could +the problemist do alone? What had been the +object of those apparently irrelevant questions? +And why had Colton pretended he knew no Chinese.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“One thing more, Sydney.” The problemist +stopped beside the operator’s desk at the telephone-booths. +“Call up the club and tell the president +that I’ll contribute enough to have that upper +hall re-decorated. Tell him that the workmen +will be there to-night. It’s about time it was +fixed.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney asked no questions this time. He +<span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span>merely obeyed the order. During the hurried, silent +meal that followed, he was all at sixes and sevens, +and his brain fairly reeled as the questions raced, +shuttlelike, through his mind. The Chinese had +known the exact hour the thing would be unpacked +at the Wanderers’ Club. The secretary had +virtually threatened Meynerd with death. Yet +Colton had said Ching Li Chu had not been in a +position to shoot the poisoned dart. Who had been +in the right position, and how did the blind man +know? He had not asked the positions of the men. +There were Wilson and Joslyn. What of them? +He remembered stories he had heard of the men. +Joslyn was an absinthe-drinker, supposed to have an +independent income. But what was the source of +that income? Sydney had never heard. Wilson +was noted for his temper—but the crime was not +that of a man with temper. It was cold-blooded, +devilish.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Six o’clock.” Colton paid his check and hurried +down the winding aisle of tables, his brain unconsciously +counting the steps it had registered when +he entered. “Get me a paper, Sydney,” he asked, +when they were on the side-walk once more.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney hailed a boy and bought one. At the +first sight of the black headlines he gasped aloud.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“They’ve arrested Nesu!” he cried. “The +two detectives took him to headquarters!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He saw again the quiet little Jap; the one man +he had never suspected! Colton had said that the +murder was devilishly Oriental; he had said that +the Chinese had not committed it. The Japanese +was the guilty one! He must have been standing +at the side of the table opposite Meynerd, for Sydney +had seen the cotton tufts he had dropped. And +the police had beaten the blind man; they had +gotten ahead of the problemist who had scorned +<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>them so often. Sydney could see them laughing +up their sleeves at the man he loved.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It’s a shame, Thorn!” he choked.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It is,” admitted Colton, quietly. “But better +a live prisoner than a dead freeman. I asked the +chief to arrest Nesu, for he would have been the +next victim of the poisoned dart!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The next―⁠―” began Sydney, dully; but +Colton did not let him finish.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes, but we haven’t time to discuss it now. +Run up to Osmuhn’s, and get the fake pearl. I’ll +take the car, and you can come home in the subway. +There’s a little job Shrimp and I have to do.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Once more Thames silently did as he was told, +and when he got back to the old-fashioned, brownstone +house in the upper eighties, he found the +blind man carefully studying two deep scratches in +the polished top of the library table.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“All right, Shrimp,” called Colton, without +raising his head.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Thames looked around, but could see no sign of +the boy; he was not in the hall, nor in the music-room. +He opened his lips for the question, then +the electric front-door bell tinkled its announcement.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The jewel! Quick!” Sydney Thames thrust +the imitation pearl into Colton’s hand. For a +second the blind man rubbed it between his flexible +fingers. With a nod of satisfaction he dropped it +carelessly into his lower vest-pocket, and was +sitting on the table, feet dangling, smoking a +cigarette, when the servant entered to announce +the four men.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Captain Richards came first, and in his arms, +held as carefully as though it were fragile glass, +was the Seven Devils. He grunted in relief as he +set it down on the table and mopped his sweat-beaded +<span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>forehead. Ching Li Chu, who had been at +his heels, remained standing, straight and rigid, +beside the thing of gold on the table. Joslyn, who +could not seem to keep his twitching fingers still, +flopped into a chair without even a grunt of greeting. +Wilson seemed strangely cool, and calmly chewed +an unlighted cigar as he shook hands with the blind +man and his secretary.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“No trouble getting us all here together,” he +grinned. “Not one of us has dared leave the +other’s sight all afternoon. Sat like bumps on a log +glaring at each other, and trying to figure which +of us was a murderer.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“For God’s sake, get it over with!” Joslyn +licked his dry lips with his tongue, and his voice +was shaky. “The police were going to arrest all +of us until their brains got untangled, and they +took the right one. What d’ye want us here for, +anyway?” he demanded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“To show you the eye of the Seven Devils,” +Colton said, quietly. He moved the golden image +along the table, and carefully placed it in the +centre, facing the five chairs that were drawn up +against the wall. The blind man was very careful +of the placing, and his secretary knew that he +was putting it exactly over the scratches. Why?</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I told you not to drink so much absinthe this +afternoon, Joslyn,” put in the captain, impatiently. +“Your nerves are all gone.” He spoke to the +problemist. “Are you really going to find the +eye?” he asked, and there was a note of disbelief +in his voice that Sydney Thames instantly +resented.</p> + +<p class='c008'>A nod was Colton’s only answer.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Richards shook his head doubtfully. “Where +that infernal Jap could have hidden the thing is +beyond me. We literally tore the room to pieces, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>and picked the cotton apart, tuft by tuft.” His +voice changed suddenly. “Did you find it?” he +demanded.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man straightened up. “Take seats,” +he invited, for he had apparently not even heard +the question. “You, too, Ching; the devils +won’t get away.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The ambassador said that I must guard them,” +replied the Chinese, simply.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“I expected he would,” declared Colton. “I +saw him for a few minutes this afternoon.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You did!” The exclamation came from Captain +Richards.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. I’d like to speak to you a few minutes +in private, if the others will excuse us?” he turned +to them, apologetically.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Long as you like,” granted Wilson, lightly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Have it over with!” snarled Joslyn.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton put his hand on the captain’s shoulder +and drew him to a far corner of the room. For +several minutes they conversed in earnest whispers. +The blind man’s back was toward the seated men, +but they could see him making gestures of emphasis +with the hand that was not resting on the captain’s +arm.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The captain nodded emphatically, and they +returned to the others. His face was grave, unreadable, +but Sydney Thames saw a look of satisfaction +gleaming in his eyes. So the blind man had convinced +him that the pearl would be recovered!</p> + +<p class='c008'>They were all seated now, even the Chinese. +Colton leaned against the table beside the seven +golden devils, and faced them. His finger-tips +felt of his crystalless watch.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Ten minutes of seven,” he said. “At seven +o’clock the jewel will be returned. Seven has been +a mystic number for centuries.”</p> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>Wilson laughed shortly. “You’re worse than +the Chinese, Colton,” he accused.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Rot!” growled Joslyn.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“You know that seven is the number sacred to +our devils?” asked the Chinese, gravely.</p> + +<p class='c008'>An inclination of the blind man’s head was his +only answer. Silence came. The minutes slowly +ticked past. As time went the men again felt the +sinister influence of the thing of gold before them; +just as the blind man had intended they should. +Joslyn could not keep his twitching hands still. +Wilson bit through his cigar and muttered a curse +as it fell to the floor. Even Captain Richards +nervously tapped his vest-front with his fingers. +Sydney Thames shifted uncomfortably. What was +going to happen? Was this merely another of the +irrelevant, apparently senseless things?—like the +others of the afternoon.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton’s voice, low, solemn, broke the stillness. +“The murderer of Meynerd can never receive his +full punishment on this earth. He has murdered +thousands!” Every man straightened in his chair. +“For years he has lived on the blood of innocent +women and children, and for years I have waited +this opportunity. Thank God it has come!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>From the lower hall came the first stroke of seven. +The blind man stood facing them, hands resting +lightly on the table at his sides. The mellow note +of the second stroke came. Unconsciously each +man’s muscles tightened for something—they knew +not what. Week-long seconds passed before the +gong sounded the third time. Still the blind man +did not move. He stood there as rigid as the +hideous, eyeless thing of gold beside him.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do not move!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>With the snapped-out order came darkness, +black, impenetrable. An indrawn breath sounded +<span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>hissingly, sucked in through tight, clenched +teeth.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Again the clock sounded. From over their head, +behind them, came a single shaft of soft, white light. +In the small circle of brightness the face of the +Seven Devils leered at them. And over the squat, +wide-nostriled nose the single eye of pearl, perfect, +flawless, gleamed with its spark-red heart!</p> + +<p class='c008'>An animal-like snarl broke the silence. Sydney +Thames felt the sweeping rush of a body past his +chair; heard body meet body in struggle. He +knew one was the blind man. The other―⁠―</p> + +<p class='c008'>He made a move to rise and snap on the lights.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Some subtle fifth sense of the blind man seemed +to tell him the very thought in his secretary’s mind.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Stay where you are!” came his command. +“Don’t touch the lights!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Came a crash of a falling body.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man’s voice cut the blackness. “You +would, eh!” He followed in with a half-dozen +words in Chinese. In the tone was some terrible +accusation, and they seemed to goad the other to +madness.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Your devilish Oriental poisons will never kill +another!” There was not even a catch in the +blind man’s breath; but the men who could not +move a muscle heard the sobbing gasps of the +other. Suddenly came silence. Then two sharp +clicks of snapped handcuffs.</p> + +<p class='c008'>And as though the clicks had been a signal, the +lights came, and with them the voice of Thornley +Colton, quietly triumphant:</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The murder of Ralph Meynerd will at last bring +you the death you have deserved so long, <em>Captain +Richards</em>! Yes, the pearl you have been assuring +yourself you still had in your pocket is an imitation. +I took the real eye from you while we were talking +<span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>in the corner. My fingers might make me a +successful pickpocket.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>He turned to face the doorway, and there the +dazed Sydney Thames saw the wide-eyed Fee. +Behind him were two stalwart detectives.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The prisoner I promised your chief,” Colton +said, shortly.</p> + +<p class='c008'>They came forward and jerked the cursing man +to his feet. “One minute!” commanded Colton. +He faced the Chinese. “The Seven Devils was +stolen from your temple. It is yours. Take it.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Damn you!” shrieked Richards. “You―⁠―”</p> + +<p class='c008'>For a silent second Colton’s eyes seemed to stare +at him, then his eyes dropped.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Take it to its true owners,” repeated Colton. +“But first, see!” He went to the golden thing +on the table. One hand, held cuplike, under the +eye. A finger touched the toe of one of the figures. +The eye dropped to his hand! “The true secret of +the image,” he said, quietly. “The prongs, by +some method of a forgotten genius, open by the +pressure of one of the toes. That is how it was +stolen in the instant you could see nothing but +the dead man before you!”</p> + +<h3 class='c009'>IV.</h3> + +<p class='c010'>An alcohol-soaked bandage around his eyes to +ease the splitting headache the loss of four hours of +sleep in the afternoon had caused, Thornley Colton +sat in the darkened music-room. Hours before, the +hand-cuffed Captain Richards had been led away, +cursing, raving, blaspheming. The table in the +library where had been the wonderful Seven Devils +of Sin, was empty now, but in a room at the Waldorf +four sleepless Chinese guarded the sacred thing +with their lives; praying alternately to it and to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>their gods in thanks. Under the waters of the +Pacific had already sped the news that the True +Eye would again look from the altar of the Yunling +monastery. The Chinese ambassador had come +personally to thank Colton. He had promised the +blind man honours, decorations, and Thornley +Colton had smiled them aside.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“A curious crime; that of committing a murder +to steal the thing he already owned?” The blind +man repeated the question Sydney Thames had +asked minutes before. “Yes, it was a curious +crime, Sydney. But Richards knew that he was +dealing with a curious people; he had dealt with +them for thirty years. He understood perfectly +that a Chinese who knew the legend regarding the +impossibility of theft would not deviate a hair’s +breadth from his century-old ideas. The devils +would not let it be done; therefore it could not be +done. The disappearance of the eye—coupled with +the century vanishings which, of course, the captain +knew all about—would only make the Chinese +more anxious to get the image. It would prove +to his peculiar mind that the devils had not lost +their powers in the years they had been gone. You +heard him raise the price. You saw Richards’s +clever acting then; though he must have known +that Ching couldn’t be found guilty of the murder. +He would have seen to it that at the time of the +killing the Chinese was in the wrong position to +shoot the dart. He was wise enough to know that +police suspicion would be immediately directed +toward the Mongolian, but it was no part of his game +to have him arrested. The others could have +sworn Ching could not have committed the crime.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The reason for it all is very simple—money. +Richards, temple-looter for years, knew that this +was his last game. No collector would have given +<span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>him more than a hundred thousand, and that +would have included the eye. He could not have +substituted a gem that would deceive an expert. +And by murdering in such a way as to make the +Chinese think it was the work of the devils, he could +have sold the image to the Chinese government +for two hundred thousand <em>without the eye</em>! They +would have staked their lives on the pearl re-appearing +in some supernatural manner the minute the +thing was restored to the monastery. And by +killing Meynerd, Richards would gain the eye; an +extra sixty-five thousand dollars. That was the +price of the boy’s life. It was Richards, too, who +sold the jade god that caused the Boxer trouble; +that cost the lives of a thousand innocent women +and children, and lives of ten thousand men to net +him twenty-five thousand dollars!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“He did that?” gasped Sydney, horror in his +tone.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes. He stole it and laid the blame on a white +missionary to save his own worthless hide. That +caused the first massacre. How he aroused the +people of Chingtu over the Seven Devils I don’t know, +but he had been in China long enough to learn all +of the underground methods. He must have +stayed there months to get the people in a proper +spirit to make the government willing to go to any +lengths to prevent an insurrection. Then he picked +New York for the final scene. He joined the +Wanderers’ years ago, and no one knew that his +money came from the loot of temples and the blood +of massacred women and children. I did, but I +could do nothing but wait.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“See how carefully he picked his audience. +Meynerd, drunken kid, could be depended upon to +mock the serious Chinese. Joslyn, whose nerves +were shattered by absinthe, would surely act suspiciously +<span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span>because of his very nervousness. Then +Wilson to add fuel. And the Chinese! The scene +was laid just as he has probably laid dozens of +others.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How he learned the secret of the devils’ eye I +don’t know, nor care. Perhaps he learned it +accidentally. Perhaps he picked it up in some +obscure corner of the kingdom during his years of +wandering. But he never thought that my supersensitive +finger-tips would discover it, though his +bringing of Nesu to the window was done so that he +could get into a position where he could watch me. +But I had found the thing in an instant, and while +he watched I carefully kept away from it. The +minute my finger felt the unbent prongs I knew +they must have opened, and the toes would be the +most ingenious place for the manipulator of +them.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It was he who notified the Chinese ambassador +the exact hour he would unpack the image. I +wanted to make sure of that, so I went to the +Waldorf. I knew the thing was important enough +to bring the diplomat all the way from Washington, +though I knew, too, as Richards did, that a secretary +would make the first visit.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How do you know that Richards told them?” +asked Sydney. “Was he the ‘gods’ they spoke +of?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“The discussion between the ambassador and +the interpreter before they answered my question +told me that. While they spoke of the gods they +mentioned a note sent the night before from New +York. Of course, I was careful to conceal the fact +that I understood Chinese, because I knew they +would never tell any one of that. To them it was +a decree of the gods; and a state secret.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“And Richards deliberately killed Meynerd to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span>make the one necessary minute of confusion?” +put in Sydney.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It didn’t matter whether it was Meynerd or not. +But luck was with him; luck and the working out +of the chance on which he had invited Meynerd +as one of the party. The poisoned dart, in its short +glass-tube, was in his handkerchief. I also took +that from the pocket of his frock-coat when we talked +in the library, and in it were fine glass particles. +He hadn’t even thought it necessary to get rid of +the thing. A simple crushing of the tube in his +handkerchief when a breath had sent the dart on +its journey of death, the dropping of the pieces +into Joslyn’s drink, where eyes would never have +seen them, was the work of an instant. Of course, +if Joslyn hadn’t had the frappéd drink Richards +needed as a hiding-place, the captain would have +ordered one for himself. But there was one break +in the programme. The Jap saw the theft of the +jewel.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“How did you know that?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Colton smiled grimly. “The keyboard of silence +again. When I shook hands my index-finger on +the Jap’s wrist told me that his heart was pounding +like a trip hammer. A mere death would never +have excited an Oriental like that. For a time I +suspected that he had shot the poisoned dart, and +the captain had stolen the jewel. But the glass in +the ice instead of the cotton, and the captain’s +gentle manner toward him, proved that they were +not working together. If they had been accomplices +Richards would have acted harshly to avert suspicion. +He was trying to convince the Jap that +silence would mean a share of the theft. But I +knew Richards wasn’t the kind to divide, or pay +blackmail. The poisoned dart was too easy. There +wasn’t a chance to end the Jap’s life in the room, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>for I knew the captain would have hardly dared +bring two darts and tubes. There was always a +possibility of his being searched by the police. At +the first opportunity outside, though, puff! A +dead Japanese who would tell no tales. Therefore +I had the police arrest Nesu because Captain +Richards probably had another one of his devilish +darts somewhere around the club.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“But the pearl?” demanded Sydney. “Why +didn’t you search Richards before we left that +room?”</p> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you think he would have taken such pains +to hide the broken tube and then have kept the +pearl?” asked Colton, dryly. “He hid the gem +in a previously picked-out place when he left the +room to call me on the telephone. Suppose I had +arrested him; suppose we had torn the club apart +and found the jewel. Would Captain Richards have +gone to the chair for murder? Not with an +American jury, and the mass of other suspicious +things that would make more than a ‘reasonable +doubt’ of his guilt.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“So I arranged to-night’s affair for a dénouement. +I knew his nerves weren’t steel, for he had shown +that when I told him to search the body of the +man he had killed. That was a little too much +even for him. Then I got the ‘eye’ while I pretended +to tell him of a plan I had to make Joslyn +confess. I substituted the fake pearl that would +feel just the same in the darkness, because the +whole thing depended on his having no premature +suspicion. My announcement that workmen would +be on hand to re-decorate the upper hall of the club, +the place he must have chosen because of its nearness, +forced him to take the pearl from its hiding-place +to-night. He had to bring it here because +I timed the thing so that he would have no chance +<span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>to find another hiding-place. During the afternoon +he probably saw to it that Joslyn kept on drinking +absinthe, though Wilson’s drinks only seemed to +straighten out his nerves.</p> + +<p class='c008'>“It was simple, very simple, but I have waited +years for the opportunity; ever since I heard the +true story of the Boxer uprising from the lips of a +dying coolie who had helped to steal the jade god. +I knew my chance would come some day, and the +cocksure attitude I always took when Captain +Richards was around, I knew would make Captain +Richards welcome the opportunity to amuse himself +by watching me try to solve a puzzle. That Chinese +sentence I used there in the darkness told him for +the first time that I knew all about him, and he +realized then that I had been waiting for the chance +his egotism had brought me.”</p> + +<p class='c008'>Sydney Thames’s lips curved in a superior smile. +“And the Chinese can only see it as the working-out +of the gods’ decree,” he murmured.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The blind man leaned back in his chair and blew +a thoughtful smoke ring toward the ceiling. When +he spoke his voice was low, almost reverent. “A +half-century ago the thing was stolen by a young +priest who did not know the secret that had been +carefully guarded by the highest priests for centuries. +Fifty years later it passes into the hand +of a white man, and is brought thousands of miles +to New York. A man is killed, another is in a +prison-cell, and the devils are returned by one who +is blind. The working of the gods? I wonder, +Sydney, I wonder.”</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><span class='small'>THE END.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> +<div> + +<p class='c000'></p> + +</div> +<div class='transcribers-notes'> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='xlarge'>Transcriber’s Notes</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c015'>New original cover art included with this ebook is granted to the public domain.</p> + +<p class='c016'>Spelling, hyphenation, and italicisation of words like “dénouement” and “finger-tip” are inconsistent between the different stories in the printed source text and have not been standardised.</p> + +<p class='c016'>The following changes and corrections have been made:</p> + <ul class='ul_1'> + <li><a href='#tn-thames'>p. 159</a>: Replaced “Thomas” with “Thames” in phrase “Thames could feel the + tenseness of the men’s bodies.” + </li> + <li><a href='#tn-bowled'>p. 159</a>: Added comma after “servant” in phrase “He skated straight at the + Hindu servant, struck him, and bowled him over.” + </li> + <li><a href='#tn-shookhishead'>p. 213</a>: Added period after phrase “He shook his head.” + </li> + <li><a href='#tn-giltglove'>p. 231</a>: Replaced “it” with “its” in phrase “in which the gilt glove + found at the woman’s throat had been carried to prevent its handling.” + </li> + <li><a href='#tn-fiveoclock'>p. 285</a>: Replaced closing single with double quotation mark after + phrase “Shrimp and I are going to catch the boat for Brazil at five o’clock!” + </li> + <li><a href='#tn-unattainable'>p. 312</a>: Replaced closing single with double quotation mark after + phrase “To me it is the lure of the unattainable.” + </li> + <li><a href='#tn-murder'>p. 159</a>: Replaced “its” with “it” in phrase “the law calls it murder.” + </li> + <li><a href='#tn-idontsee'>p. 324</a>: Removed stray apostrophe before phrase “I don’t see―⁠―.” + </li> + </ul> + +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78643 ***</div> +</body> +<!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57i (with regex) on 2026-05-09 14:26:41 GMT --> +</html> diff --git a/78643-h/images/cover.jpg b/78643-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c12f612 --- /dev/null +++ b/78643-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/78643-h/images/publogo.jpg b/78643-h/images/publogo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3194f01 --- /dev/null +++ b/78643-h/images/publogo.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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