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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78848 ***
+
+
+
+
+                              JIM HANVEY
+                               DETECTIVE
+
+                         BY OCTAVUS ROY COHEN
+
+                    Author of "THE CRIMSON ALIBI,"
+                           "MIDNIGHT," etc.
+
+                               NEW YORK
+                        DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
+                                 1923
+
+                         COPYRIGHT, 1922, 1923
+                         BY OCTAVUS ROY COHEN
+
+                          PRINTED IN U. S. A.
+
+
+                          VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY
+                        BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK
+
+                                  To
+                            CECILE O. LOPEZ
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+
+                               FISH EYES
+
+                               HOMESPUN SILK
+
+                               COMMON STOCK
+
+                               HELEN OF TROY, N. Y.
+
+                               CAVEAT EMPTOR
+
+                               THE KNIGHT'S GAMBIT
+
+                               PINK BAIT
+
+
+
+
+                         Jim Hanvey, Detective
+
+
+
+
+                               FISH EYES
+
+
+Clifford Wallace was noticeably ill-at-ease. He worked intensively yet
+mechanically at his post in the Third National Bank, within the narrow
+confines of a cage bearing the inscription Paying Teller Number One.
+Horizontal lines of worry creased his forehead and a single lock of
+white stood out with startling clarity against the deep brown of his
+hair.
+
+Beside him were piled great stacks of money divided into neat packages.
+Behind his back the huge doors of the cash vault gaped, disclosing
+more money. At the right of his cage were the inclosures of the three
+other--the junior--paying tellers. The marbled lobby of the big bank
+was a welter of discordant activity, of impatience--the clink of
+silver, the soft shuffling of new bank notes, the slamming of ledgers,
+the hum of banking during the rush hours.
+
+To-day was the busiest of the month for Paying Teller Number One.
+To-day came due the pay rolls of the three largest corporations in the
+industrial district of which this city was the metropolis. More than
+a million and a quarter dollars in cash occupied the cage with Cliff
+Wallace; a million and a quarter dollars in silver and bills, only a
+few of the latter in denominations of more than one hundred dollars.
+It was Wallace's task to make up these pay rolls and deliver them to
+the armed men who came with the checks. He was sorting the money now,
+indifferent to the exasperated stare of the little man outside the
+window who impatiently rattled his own modest pay-roll check for $208.
+
+Behind the irate little man a line formed slowly--two or three other
+representatives of small businesses, then a strikingly pretty young
+woman in a blue coat suit, and behind her, two stalwarts from the
+Garrison Coal, Iron and Steel Company. Cliff knew the proportions of
+the check they carried--$278,000. Real work there, work requiring
+intense concentration. It was so easy to make an error of a few hundred
+dollars when one dealt casually in single amounts greater than a
+quarter million. Cliff received the little man's check and counted the
+money deftly, cramming it into a canvas sack. He was visibly annoyed
+when the man insisted on opening the sack and counting the money for
+himself. Cliff's eyes sought those of the pretty girl and a brief
+glance of understanding passed between them. Both were taut of muscle
+and tense of nerves; upon the face of each was an unnatural pallor.
+
+The little man completed his count, closed his canvas sack and moved
+off pompously. The next man in line presented his check and received
+his money. So, too, did the next. The girl pushed her check through
+the window--the pay-roll check of the wholesale hardware company
+for which she worked; $728.56. With it she presented a leather
+satchel. Cliff Wallace unlocked the barred window of his cage to
+take the satchel. He placed it on the shelf at his right, the shelf
+containing the mountains of bills. Again that look of understanding--of
+apprehension--passed between them. They spoke with simulated casualness.
+
+"Good morning, Phyllis."
+
+"Good morning, Cliff."
+
+That was all. Yet, save for those first glances, they avoided each
+other's eyes. The oldish-young paying teller sorted out the amount of
+her pay roll. And then, working discreetly, swiftly and dexterously,
+he piled beside it a small stack of new bills. In that stack of bills
+was a hundred thousand dollars; one thousand one-hundred-dollar bank
+notes. Once he permitted his eyes to rove restlessly about the lobby.
+They paused briefly on the gray-coated figure of the bank's special
+officer, who lounged indifferently near the Notes and Discounts Window.
+Apparently the bank detective had neither thought nor care in the
+world. Reassured, yet with no diminution of his nervousness, Cliff
+Wallace returned to the task in hand.
+
+Into the girl's brown-leather satchel he put the amount of her pay-roll
+check, and then he crammed into it also the one hundred thousand
+dollars.
+
+His face was ghastly pale as he faced her once more. The hand that
+held the satchel trembled violently. He conscripted a smile which he
+intended to be reassuring, and the smile with which she answered him
+was so obviously an effort that it seemed to shriek her guilt. For a
+second they remained rigid, staring into each other's eyes, then the
+envoys of the Garrison Coal, Iron and Steel Company coughed impatiently
+and the girl moved away. The paying teller fingered the $278,000 check
+nervously, his eyes remaining focused on the blue coat suit which was
+moving with horrid slowness toward the whirling doors that opened onto
+the street. And finally she disappeared and Cliff Wallace breathed a
+sigh of infinite relief. Thus far nothing had been noticed. He gave
+his attention to the task of assorting huge stacks of bills for the
+Garrison company.
+
+Meanwhile the girl in the blue coat suit turned into the swirl of
+traffic on the city's main thoroughfare. She threaded her way through
+the crowd, walking with unnecessary swiftness, with the single thought
+in her mind of putting as much space as possible between herself and
+the Third National Bank. Her fingers were wrapped tightly about the
+handle of the brown-leather satchel, her face bore a fixed rigidity of
+expression, her heart was pounding beneath the plain tailored waist
+she wore. It seemed incomprehensible that the transaction in Cliff
+Wallace's cage had gone unnoticed. It had been so simple--so absurdly
+simple.
+
+And now she was making all haste toward the office where she worked.
+Cliff had warned her that she must return promptly from the bank in
+order that the inevitable investigation should disclose no suspicious
+lapse of time.
+
+She turned up a side street and thence into a gaunt, red-brick building
+labeled Sanford Jones & Co. Biting her lips with a fierce effort at
+self-control, she entered the building and turned immediately into the
+women's washroom. Trembling fingers found the door key and turned it.
+Then making certain that she was alone in the room she took from the
+shelf a large piece of brown wrapping paper which she had placed there
+earlier in the morning--that and a bit of twine.
+
+She dropped to her knees, opened the satchel and took from it the one
+hundred thousand dollars. She felt a vague amazement that so much money
+should be of such small bulk. She arranged the bills neatly in three
+stacks of equal height and wrapped them carefully in the brown paper.
+Then with the package securely tied with twine she closed the satchel,
+unlocked the washroom door and swung into the office. No one had
+noticed her brief excursion into the washroom; that much was evident.
+
+Straight toward the cashier's desk she went, and in his hands placed
+the satchel. His eyes smiled briefly into hers.
+
+"Got back pretty quick this morning, Miss Robinson."
+
+She forced a smile. "Yes. Not much crowd at the bank. I did get back in
+a hurry."
+
+The bit of dialogue pleased her. The cashier had noticed specifically
+that her absence from the store had been of briefer duration than
+usual. He would remember that when the detectives made inquiry.
+
+She seated herself at her typewriter. Beside her, on the battered oak
+desk, she placed the innocuous-appearing brown paper package, the
+package containing one hundred thousand dollars. She was horribly
+nervous, but apparently no one noticed anything unusual in her manner.
+The wall clock indicated the hour of 10:30. From then until noon she
+must work.
+
+It was difficult. Her thoughts were focused upon the money before her.
+Once a clerk stopped by her desk to chat and his hand rested idly upon
+the package of money. She felt as though she must scream. But he moved
+away eventually. She breathed more easily.
+
+At five minutes after noon she left the office for her lunch. With
+her went the package of money. She made her way to the City Trust and
+Savings Company, an imposing edifice of white marble nearly opposite
+the Third National. She entered the building and descended the broad
+stairway to the safety-deposit vaults, noticing with relief that there
+was an unusually large crowd there. She extended her key to the ancient
+man in charge.
+
+"Two-thirty-five, please. Mrs. Harriet Dare."
+
+Mrs. Dare, now dead, had been Phyllis' sister. Phyllis had access to
+the box. Too, she maintained in this bank a box in her own name, so
+that should official investigation progress to the point of examining
+the safety-deposit box of Phyllis Robinson, nothing to excite suspicion
+would be found. That was one of the strongest links in the safety chain
+that Cliff Wallace had welded.
+
+The man in charge ran through his index and handed her a card to sign.
+Her hand trembled as she wrote her name: Phyllis Robinson. The old
+man took her key and his, unlocked the box and left her. There were a
+number of persons in the vault: One pompous gentleman ostentatiously
+clipping coupons from Liberty Bonds of fifty-dollar denomination; an
+old lady who had already locked her box and was struggling vainly to
+assure herself that it was thoroughly locked; a fair-haired clerk from
+a broker's office assuming the businesslike airs of his employer; a
+half dozen others, each reassuringly absorbed in his own business.
+Phyllis took her box--it was a large one--and carried it into one of
+the private booths which stood just outside the vault door.
+
+She placed the tin box and her package side by side on the mahogany
+shelf. A quick survey of the place assured her that she was not
+observed. She wondered vaguely why she was not. It seemed as though
+someone must know. But apparently no one did. Swiftly she transferred
+the hundred thousand dollars to the strong box. She was amazed to
+find herself computing financial possibilities when all the while she
+was frightened. It was an amount to yield seven thousand dollars a
+year carefully invested. Two persons could live comfortably on seven
+thousand dollars a year. And that meant every year--there'd be no
+diminution of principal. Nearly one hundred and fifty dollars a week.
+Every comfort and many luxuries assured. Freedom. Independence. Fear.
+
+She returned the box to its compartment and emerged upon the street
+again. With the money put safely away a load had lifted from her
+shoulders. She felt a sense of enormous relief. The danger mark had
+been passed, the scheme appeared to have justified itself. But now her
+nerves were jangling as they had not been before. She was frightened,
+not so much for what the immediate future might hold as by the
+experience through which she had just passed. No longer was she keyed
+up by action. Retrospection left her weak and afraid. She knew that she
+couldn't do it again; marveled at the fact that she had committed this
+act at all.
+
+She ate a tiny meal at the dairy lunch which she patronized regularly.
+At 12:40 she returned to the office, where she threw herself into the
+grind of routine work, seeking forgetfulness and ease for her jangling
+nerves. But her thoughts were not on the letters she typed; they were
+at the bank with Clifford Wallace, chief paying teller.
+
+Meanwhile Cliff's inscrutable, rather hard face gave no indication
+of the seethe within him. He did his work with mechanical precision,
+counting large sums of money with incredible speed, checking and
+rechecking his payments, attending to his routine work with the
+deftness and accuracy that had won him this post.
+
+There was in his manner no slightest indication that he had just
+engineered the theft of one hundred thousand dollars in currency. Never
+friendly at best, he was perhaps this day a trifle more reserved than
+usual; but even had his fellow workers noticed the fact they would have
+ascribed it to the abnormal pressure of work. It was seldom that three
+big pay rolls became due at one time. And the handling of such huge
+sums of money is likely to cause temporary irascibility in even the
+most genial of men.
+
+The hour hand of the big clock on the marble wall crept to the figure
+two. A gong sounded. Immediately work was suspended at the long rows
+of windows. Then the little barred doors were dropped, the patrons
+of the bank drifted out gradually, and the bedlam of a busy day was
+succeeded by the drone of after-hours work--the clackety-clack of
+adding machines, the rustle of checks, the slamming of books, the clink
+of silver and gold.
+
+Pencil in hand, Cliff Wallace checked over the money in his vault.
+Paying Tellers Numbers Two, Three and Four made their reports first.
+Then Wallace gave his attention to his own cash. The door of his
+cage was open, so that the cages of the four paying tellers were
+temporarily en suité. Behind Wallace's back the door of the cash vault
+gaped. The vault itself was part of his cage, its contents Wallace's
+responsibility. He worked swiftly and expertly. And then, a few
+minutes before 4:30 o'clock, he presented himself before Robert Warren,
+president of the Third National. He was nervous and ill-at-ease. In
+his left hand he held a paper covered with figures. His face was
+expressionless, unless one was sufficiently keen to observe the hunted,
+haunted look in his cold blue eyes. Here was the crisis. He pulled up
+a chair and seated himself, after having first closed the door of the
+president's office.
+
+"Mr. Warren"--his voice was steady and incisive, giving no hint of the
+emotional strain under which he labored--"I have just checked over the
+cash. I am precisely one hundred thousand dollars short."
+
+The president's swivel chair creaked. The gentleman strangled on a puff
+of cigar smoke. His big, spatulate hands came down on the polished
+mahogany desk surface with a thump. His eyes widened.
+
+"You--you are what?"
+
+"My cash is one hundred thousand dollars short."
+
+The statement appeared to have difficulty in penetrating.
+
+"My dear Mr. Wallace--that is impossible! An exact amount?"
+
+Cliff was more at ease. It was a scene he had rehearsed a hundred
+times, and it was developing just as anticipated.
+
+"I realize the impossibility, sir. But it is nevertheless a fact."
+
+Robert Warren's face hardened slightly. He regarded his chief paying
+teller with a critical, speculative glance. Wallace returned look for
+look. The president spoke:
+
+"Please explain yourself, Mr. Wallace. Am I listening to a statement or
+a confession?"
+
+"A statement, sir."
+
+"H'm!" Warren was himself again. Only superficially was the man
+genial. He had cultivated geniality as a business asset. Basically he
+was utterly emotionless. He realized that the thing to which he gave
+ear was of vital import, and as that realization hammered home, his
+demeanor became intransigently frigid. "H'm! A statement?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Your cash is--er--an even one hundred thousand dollars short?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How does that happen?"
+
+"I'm trying to find out myself."
+
+"You are quite sure?"
+
+"Certainly, sir. I would not have come to you had I not been sure."
+
+Silence. Again that clash of eyes. "This puts you in an exceedingly
+awkward position, Mr. Wallace. Personally."
+
+"I understand that, sir."
+
+"One hundred thousand dollars is a great deal of money."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"The responsibility is absolutely and exclusively yours."
+
+"I realize that."
+
+"Its loss cannot but be due to carelessness on your part."
+
+"That is probably true."
+
+"Probably?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I am not certain about any phase of this--this--unfortunate
+situation."
+
+Warren lighted another cigar. "Of course the bank will not lose. You
+are bonded. I must notify the bonding company immediately."
+
+"Of course."
+
+The younger man's poise seemed to get on the nerves of the bank
+president. For once in his life he had come into contact with a man
+more unemotional than himself. His fist pounded the desk suddenly.
+
+"Damn it! Wallace, what does it all mean?"
+
+"That that amount of money has disappeared, sir."
+
+"One hundred thousand even?"
+
+"To the dollar."
+
+"When did you notice the loss?"
+
+"Just a few minutes ago, sir--when I checked over the cash."
+
+"You rechecked?"
+
+"Twice."
+
+"Have you been alone in your cage all day?"
+
+"I believe so, sir."
+
+"You only believe?"
+
+"I can't make a too positive statement. The cages of the other paying
+tellers open into mine. Almost every day the door between my cage and
+theirs is open for a little while. It is possible that that was the
+case at certain times to-day."
+
+"You are not positive?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"But you believe that the door was open--in the regular course of the
+day's work?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And you believe that one of your assistants took that money?"
+
+Wallace's face twitched, ever so slightly. "No, sir."
+
+"No?"
+
+"Even if my door had been open, Mr. Warren, I don't believe they would
+have had a chance to take that much money."
+
+"But--but, Wallace--there are only four men in this bank who could have
+taken it--provided it was taken; yourself and your three assistant
+paying tellers."
+
+"I realize that."
+
+"And you say that you don't believe they could?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"H'm! Do you realize the inevitable conclusion?"
+
+"That if they didn't, I did?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Yes, sir, I realize that."
+
+"Yet you say that you did not."
+
+"Of course."
+
+Robert Warren showed a flash of irritation. "You seem damned
+unexcited."
+
+"I don't believe this is any time for me to become excited, sir."
+
+Robert Warren rose. "Come with me, young man. We'll lock the doors
+of the bank and check every cent of cash we have. There must be some
+mistake."
+
+"I sincerely hope so, sir."
+
+A careful check-up showed plainly that there was no mistake. One
+hundred thousand dollars had disappeared from the bank during the
+course of the day's business. It was gone. The three assistant paying
+tellers were nervous and excited. The cashier, a nervous, wiry little
+man, rushed around the bank like a chicken suddenly bereft of its head.
+The bank's private detective, a portly, unimaginative individual,
+strutted around the empty lobby trying to look important and succeeding
+not at all. He believed it incumbent upon him to detect something or
+somebody, felt that the weight of the world suddenly had descended upon
+his shoulders. But his brain worked in a single unfortunate channel.
+His attempts at deduction led invariably into the _cul-de-sac_ of "It
+just couldn't happen."
+
+That was the reaction expressed by every bank employe who knew what
+had occurred. The thing was impossible. The paying tellers, who had
+worked in team preparing for the rush of the day, were all reasonably
+certain that the cash had been correct at the beginning of the day--as
+certain as they were that it was not now correct. Through it all
+Clifford Wallace worked with them. Tiny lines of worry corrugated his
+forehead. And when, at seven o'clock, it became evident that the money
+was positively gone and had disappeared probably during the course of
+the day's business, the president, the cashier and Clifford Wallace
+retired to Warren's office. The president and cashier were smoking.
+Cliff declined their proffered cigar.
+
+"I never smoke, you know."
+
+"The point now is," spoke Warren, checking off that particular point on
+his thumb, "that the money has disappeared and we must do something.
+The question is, what?" He turned his gaze upon Wallace. Cliff met the
+stare steadily and answered in a matter-of-fact voice:
+
+"The obvious thing is to place me under arrest, Mr. Warren."
+
+"Obvious, of course."
+
+"But Mr. Warren"--it was the nervous little cashier--"you don't believe
+Cliff stole that money, do you?"
+
+"Certainly not, Mr. Jenkins. Of course I don't. And equally of course I
+am not going to have Mr. Wallace placed under arrest."
+
+A flicker of triumph crossed Clifford Wallace's face, to be followed
+instantly by his habitual stoniness of expression.
+
+"I am perfectly willing, Mr. Warren----"
+
+"It isn't a case of willingness, Wallace. If I thought for a moment
+you were guilty--or even could be guilty--I wouldn't hesitate. Not
+if you were my brother. But the thing is impossible. You've been
+negligent--probably; I'm not even sure of that. I understand banks
+well enough to know that a certain laxity of routine is naturally and
+excusably developed. It is my personal opinion that the money did not
+disappear from the bank. It either never was here or it is still here."
+
+"Yes, sir." Cliff was calmly attentive.
+
+"I am going to search every employe as he or she leaves the bank. That
+will insure its remaining here to-night. By to-morrow morning the
+bonding-company detectives and the representatives of the Bankers'
+Protective Association will be here. Whatever action they care to
+take, Wallace, will be strictly up to them. Personally, I wish to
+take occasion to assure you of my confidence in your integrity and to
+express the belief that this is an explainable mistake of some sort,
+which will be set right to-morrow."
+
+"And you are not even going to keep me under surveillance to-night?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Pardon me, sir, but I believe you are making a mistake. You will be
+criticized----"
+
+"They can criticize and be damned to them."
+
+Wallace returned to his cage, where he busied himself arranging the
+shelves for the following morning. Then quite as usual he closed
+his vault doors, set the time lock, visited the washroom, and left
+the building after undergoing a thorough search. Once outside, his
+shoulders went back unconsciously. He knew that he had won. The very
+simplicity of his crime had caused it to be crowned with success.
+
+But he did not allow his elation to strangle caution. Every move in the
+game had been thought out meticulously in advance. He did not deviate a
+hair's breath from his regular evening routine. He went to a cafeteria
+and ate a hearty meal, although the food almost choked him. At the desk
+he telephoned Phyllis Robinson.
+
+"May I come to see you this evening, Phyllis?" He did that four or five
+evenings a week; they were secretly engaged.
+
+"Yes."
+
+There was a distinct nuance of tremulous inquiry in her voice. It
+annoyed Clifford. They had threshed out every detail of this sort. She
+must keep a stiff upper lip, had promised not to betray any untoward
+interest in his comings and goings immediately following the robbery.
+But that was just like a woman, making plain in the tone of her voice
+the vast relief she felt at knowing that he was free. Wallace didn't
+like that. It was an indication of weakness, and weakness had no place
+in his elaborate scheme. Besides, he knew well that Robert Warren was
+no fool, realized that for all Warren's protestations of belief in
+his integrity, the bank president already had a detective shadowing
+him. He had anticipated that and a good deal more. He had expected
+to spend this night in jail, and perhaps several others. Certainly
+under observation. This freedom caused elation, but brought about no
+lessening of caution.
+
+At 7:45 he presented himself at the garage where he kept his modest
+little roadster, filled the tank with gas and drove down the street.
+This was a nightly ritual. Straight to the home of Phyllis Robinson
+he went; it was a rambling two-story structure set well back of a
+high-terraced front yard, its wide veranda blanketed cozily with
+honeysuckle--a modest place, one which had seen decidedly better days.
+Phyllis, an orphan, lived there with an aunt. The place was a boarding
+house. All very discreet and proper.
+
+She greeted him in the hallway. He was irritated by the patent effort
+of her casualness. He directed their conversation, they chatted about
+innocuous nothings until they were safely out of the house and in his
+little car, headed into the country. This, too, was a not uncommon
+procedure. Cliff was well satisfied with himself. The most suspicious
+watcher could have found no food for speculation this night. His
+actions had been the normal actions of an innocent man. He was acting
+just as he would have acted had he been innocent of the theft of one
+hundred thousand dollars.
+
+They mounted a gentle acclivity. The broad smooth highway dipped from
+the crest through a small woods. Overhead the full moon shone benignly
+over the valley, behind them the city, ringed about by furnaces and
+steel mills, gems of fire in the setting of silvered night. A red glow
+in the sky. The man at the steering wheel, calm and self-possessed,
+eyes focused on the ribbon of road ahead, thoughts busy with the
+epochal events of the day. Nor did he mention the subject uppermost in
+his mind until the girl spoke, spoke with a quaver in her voice as her
+hand closed tremulously about his.
+
+"You--you're free, Cliff?"
+
+"Obviously." The man was a poser; this was too perfect an opportunity
+to miss. He wished the girl at his side to be impressed with his own
+granite imperviousness to emotion. Phyllis shook her head; she loved
+him despite the fact that she knew his weakness.
+
+"They don't suspect you?"
+
+"Certainly not. They couldn't. I went in to the old man and told him
+the money was gone. I didn't protect myself a bit. Suggested that he
+had better lock me up. And of course he didn't." He smiled grimly,
+pridefully. "The only danger point in the whole scheme has been passed,
+Phyllis. We're safe."
+
+"And I'm frightened."
+
+"Of course. That's natural."
+
+"Aren't you?"
+
+"Not at all." He stopped the car as if to light a cigarette. "You put
+the money in the vault at the City Trust?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Immediately after I left the office for lunch."
+
+"You went straight from the Third National to your office?"
+
+"Yes. And the cashier commented on how quickly I got back."
+
+"Fine! Great! Sooner or later they're bound to connect us in this
+matter, and when they do they'll investigate your actions. It'll disarm
+them to learn that you got back to the office in record time; that you
+couldn't possibly have gone anywhere between the bank and your place of
+business. And now about the vault--you didn't attract any particular
+attention there, did you?"
+
+"No-o. I'm sure I didn't. There was a crowd there, and I am sure the
+old man didn't notice me at all. I put the money in Harriet's box, not
+mine."
+
+He patted her hand reassuringly. "You were a trump, dear. And you're
+not sorry?"
+
+"No-o--and yes. I know that it is wrong, yet--oh, well, we need the
+money. It means so much more to us than it ever could to that bank. If
+we're only not caught."
+
+"We won't be." His narrow, rather hard face was set. He argued as
+though to reassure himself. "The weakness in anything of this sort
+is preliminary planning. The average man who sets out to steal one
+hundred thousand dollars"--the girl winced--"makes plans so enormously
+elaborate that he cuts his own throat, minimizes his chances of getting
+away with it. For every detail that such a man plants he sows a
+possibility of detection. He isn't content with the easy, the safe, the
+normal. In striving for perfection, for absolute safety, he lays traps
+for himself. Remember this, Phyllis: a detective can make a thousand
+mistakes and, by doing one single thing correctly, land his man. The
+criminal cannot afford a single mistake. Understand?"
+
+"Yes." And then the feminine side of the girl flooded to the surface.
+"Cliff dear, you're so--so hard!"
+
+That pleased him. He wanted to be hard, cultivated a gelid philosophy.
+
+"Sentiment serves no man well, Phyllis. My hardness has made possible
+financial ease for us--and consequent contentment. I have no
+conscience. Neither has the average man. Conscience is the fear of
+being caught. We are all inherently immoral. It was not wrong for the
+primitive man to steal. He took what he could get away with. Right
+and wrong are products of legislation, of artificial ethical culture.
+They are not part of us; we are inoculated with them. They are utterly
+foreign to us. In taking this money I have committed no natural crime.
+By statute only am I a criminal. I am not ashamed of what I have done.
+I would be ashamed of detection."
+
+Silence fell between them. The girl shivered as though with a chill.
+
+"You are very convincing, dear. But I'm afraid that I'm terribly a
+victim to the morality of education. Of course you've convinced my
+intellect. But--since this afternoon--I'm afraid you can never convince
+my conscience."
+
+He flashed her a sudden apprehensive glance. "You're not getting cold
+feet?"
+
+"No." She shook her head sadly. "It's too late for that."
+
+"But you're afraid?"
+
+"Yes. I'm afraid."
+
+"Then you're silly. We're safe now. The minute you walked through those
+revolving doors with that hundred thousand in your bag I knew that we
+were safe. The scheme is successful because of its very simplicity.
+We are to go ahead in our normal ways. There is to be no variation
+whatsoever in our way of living. In a year we will marry. A year from
+then I will get a position somewhere else. And then--and not until
+then--will we begin to make use of the money which we got to-day. We're
+safe."
+
+"From the law--yes. But not from ourselves."
+
+"Harping on conscience again?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Pff! I have no conscience, no fear of the intangible."
+
+She sighed. "I must agree with you, dear. I've gone too far not to. But
+I wonder--whether it's worth the price."
+
+He laughed harshly and the car leaped ahead as his finger caressed the
+gas lever.
+
+"It's fortunate, Phyllis, that I'm practical. The thing that counts in
+this world is what you have--not how you got it."
+
+They returned to the girl's boarding house at eleven o'clock, stood
+chatting for a while on the front porch. Cliff wondered whether the man
+who must be shadowing him was witness to the tableau. He knew that the
+man must have been bewildered and apprehensive when they went off for a
+ride together--and pleased by their return. He fancied he could discern
+the person lolling in the shadows of the big oak across the street. He
+swung down the steps, whistling jauntily.
+
+Phyllis slept not at all that night. Cliff, serene and untroubled,
+slumbered heavily. For two years he had planned this thing, had
+surveyed it from every angle. He had made an intensive personal study
+of the men with whom he would have to deal: Of Robert Warren, the
+president; of Garet Jenkins, the cashier; of each member of the board
+of directors. He had studied their mental processes, had deliberately
+built up their confidence in him and his integrity. He had known in
+advance that Warren would do just about as he had done and that his
+opinion would sway the board of directors. He knew that the matter
+would be hushed up and that the investigation would be conducted with
+the most rigid secrecy. He knew that detectives would appear the
+following morning, would remain there for some time--and that they
+would find nothing. He knew that eventually the conclusion would be
+reached that there had been, in fact, no robbery at all, but that the
+hundred thousand dollars had never reached the bank vaults.
+
+He would be watched carefully for one month, two, three. Then the
+matter would be filed away as an unsolved mystery. Above everything,
+the bank was not desirous of a scandal. In the absence of sufficient
+evidence to convict they'd permit him his freedom. And the perfect
+normalcy of his life would convince them speedily that he was free from
+guilt.
+
+He reached the bank the following morning at precisely his regular
+time, not a minute early or a minute late. He held a brief conference
+with the three assistant paying tellers and apportioned to each his
+quota of cash from the vault, which was a part of his individual cage.
+Then quite phlegmatically he answered a summons to the office of the
+president. And as he entered the door he recognized in the three
+strangers who faced him the detectives.
+
+Cliff was somewhat amused. He knew that the glances they bestowed upon
+him were surcharged with deep and dark suspicion. Money had disappeared
+from the cage of the chief paying teller; ergo, the chief paying teller
+had stolen it. They'd start out on that theory--and butt their heads
+against a stone wall. He realized that Robert Warren was talking, that
+he was being introduced.
+
+"The detectives; this is Mr. Peter Jamieson, representing the Bonding
+company. And Mr. Carl Burton, of the Bankers' Protective Association."
+He hesitated a moment as he turned toward the third stranger. Then:
+"This other gentleman is also here to represent the Bankers' Protective
+Association. Mr. Wallace, Mr. Hanvey--Mr. James Hanvey."
+
+Cliff started visibly. Jim Hanvey! He'd heard of the man--a detective
+with an enviable reputation. But he had envisioned Jim Hanvey as a
+person tall and sinewy, and with a saturnine face and deep-set flashing
+eyes. This man----
+
+The hand which the great detective extended to him was limp and clammy,
+the man himself utterly negative. He was a large man, true; but his
+shoulders were rounded and from them the coat of his cheap ready-made
+tweed suit hung like a smoking jacket. Above a thick red neck rose
+the head--huge, fat, shapeless. Three floppy chins, an apoplectic
+expression, a wide, loose-lipped mouth. And eyes----
+
+Those eyes fascinated Wallace, not because they were marvelous eyes
+but because he could not reconcile himself to the fact that they were
+capable of seeing anything. They were large eyes, and round like a
+baby's. In color they were a passive gray--fishlike. They rested on
+Wallace's as their hands met, and then the lids closed slowly over them
+like a film, rising just as deliberately. It was more an ocular yawn
+than a blinking of eyes. Cliff felt within him a contempt for the man,
+instant and instinctive, then pulled himself together with a jerk. He
+knew that would never do. Jim Hanvey bore an international reputation,
+such a one as could not be attained through inefficiency.
+
+Jamieson was nearer Cliff's conception of an efficient detective.
+Medium build, dapper, dynamic, with blazing eyes and a competent
+manner. He liked Jamieson, knew that he would know how to cope with
+him. Jamieson was a practical detective, and Jamieson was there in
+the rôle of a friend. It was most decidedly to the interest of the
+bonding company to establish his innocence. Burton, too, radiated
+efficiency. He was tall and broad and had deep-set brown eyes which
+looked out keenly from under heavy lashes. He was there to convict, but
+Cliff did not fear him. Burton, like Jamieson, was too normal a man to
+inspire apprehension. But Hanvey, Hanvey of the slow-blinking, fishy
+eyes--Hanvey was a disturbing quantity. Cliff didn't like Hanvey.
+
+Hanvey was speaking. Cliff noted that the others deferred to the
+ponderous, uninspired-looking individual.
+
+"H'm! You're the paying teller, Mr. Wallace?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Kind of funny--the hundred thousand gettin' lost thataway, wasn't it?"
+
+Cliff was annoyed. The man wasn't even grammatical.
+
+"Rather peculiar--yes."
+
+"Ain't got any idea how it happened, have you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"No chance of any one sort of slippin' an arm through the cage window
+and grabbin' it, huh?"
+
+Bah! the man was an idiot.
+
+"Hardly that."
+
+"Kinder makes us believe that it must have been done by somebody inside
+the cage. Ain't that so?"
+
+"That is the obvious conclusion."
+
+"Well, now--so it is. So it is." Hanvey produced a golden toothpick,
+which he regarded fondly. "Awful funny thing how money gits to go
+thisaway. Awful funny. Ain't it, Jamieson?"
+
+"Yes--yes indeed." Cliff glanced curiously at the competent
+Jamieson. He fancied that Jamieson would appear annoyed by Hanvey's
+cumbersomeness. But instead he saw the two other detectives hanging
+worshipfully upon Hanvey's words.
+
+Peculiar--it was impossible that Hanvey possessed keen intelligence.
+And yet----
+
+Hanvey nodded heavily. "That's all, Mr. Wallace. I reckon that's about
+all I need from you."
+
+All? It was nothing--less than nothing. One or two absurd, meaningless
+questions; a ridiculous voicing of the thought that some one might have
+stolen a hundred thousand dollars in currency from under his very eyes.
+And Jim Hanvey was reputed to be a great detective.
+
+Cliff Wallace was bothered. The very somnolent heaviness of Jim Hanvey
+begot apprehension. He had no idea how to cope with it. The man was too
+utterly guileless, too awkward of manner. His ponderous indifference
+must cloak a keen, perceptive brain. Jamieson and Burton--well, Cliff
+knew just what they were thinking. He'd always know what they were
+thinking. But Hanvey--never. He didn't even know that Hanvey was
+thinking. He was an element which the paying teller had not foreseen.
+Frank suspicion was easy to combat. Through his head there flashed the
+shibboleth of the Bankers' Protective Association: "We get a man if
+it takes a lifetime--even though he has stolen only a dollar. It's the
+principle of the thing."
+
+He shook off the thought of Jim Hanvey, but throughout the day watched
+the ponderous, big-jowled man lumber about the lobby and through
+the cages, those great fishy eyes blinking with a deliberation
+which reminded him of a man making physical effort to remain awake.
+Occasionally Cliff looked up to find the glassy eyes staring at him
+through the bars of his cage, the detective's unpressed tweed suit
+against the marble shelf. His eyes would flash into those of the
+detective, then would come that interminably slow blinking, and Hanvey
+would move away apologetically. Once Wallace shivered.
+
+That was the beginning. Hanvey during the days that followed did
+absolutely nothing. Jamieson and Burton, on the other hand, worked
+busily and thoroughly. They pored over the list of customers for whom
+checks had been cashed on the day of the money's disappearance. And
+finally they came to the pay-roll check of Sanford Jones & Co. They
+called Cliff into conference with them, Burton doing the questioning.
+
+"Who presented the Jones company check, Mr. Wallace?"
+
+Cliff steeled himself to impassivity. "Miss Phyllis Robinson."
+
+"You are acquainted with her?"
+
+"Yes. We happen to be secretly engaged."
+
+"Ah-h!" Cliff saw a meaningful look pass between the two detectives.
+"Your fiancée?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did you personally cash her check that day?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You are positive about that?"
+
+"Yes. I cash all of the pay-roll checks; and besides, I remember
+talking to her while she was at the window."
+
+The detectives nodded at each other and Cliff was dismissed.
+Immediately Jamieson and Burton checked up the movements of Phyllis
+Robinson on that particular day. They learned that she had cashed the
+company's pay-roll check as usual and that she had been absent from
+the office only a short time. Yes, the puzzled cashier was positive of
+that--he remembered noticing particularly that she'd hardly left the
+office before she was back with the money. In answer to their query as
+to whether she had time to stop somewhere en route to the office from
+the bank, the little man indignantly protested that he recalled every
+detail of the morning and that she couldn't possibly have done so. "I
+never knew her to get back so quick before, and she never was one to
+loiter."
+
+So much for that. The girl had undoubtedly gone straight from the
+bank to her office. The Jones cashier insisted that she delivered the
+satchel to him personally. Jamieson and Burton then visited the banks
+of the city and its suburbs. The Third National was the largest in the
+district and they went meticulously down the line in the order of
+importance. At the City Trust they were informed that Phyllis Robinson
+rented a safety-deposit box. An inspection of her card disclosed the
+fact that she had not visited the box in two months. Nor had she a box
+at any other bank. Neither had Cliff Wallace.
+
+News of the investigation, received from the puzzled cashier, via the
+frightened Phyllis, elated Cliff. He was delighted to know that the
+two detectives were at work, and supremely confident that they could
+discover nothing.
+
+But Hanvey did nothing. All day long he lounged about the lobby
+or sat in one of the cages with his feet propped upon a shelf,
+surrounding himself with a haze of rancid cigar smoke. And always
+those blank, stupid eyes were turned upon the cage of the chief paying
+teller--blinking, blinking.
+
+Wallace did not vary a hair's breadth from the established routine of
+his daily life. He breakfasted at his usual place at the usual hour,
+snatched a lunch as he had always been in the habit of doing, dined at
+his favorite cafeteria, called upon Phyllis Robinson in the evenings
+and either walked with her or took her riding in his little car.
+
+On Thursday he drew his monthly pay check--two hundred and fifty
+dollars. One hundred dollars of it he immediately deposited to his own
+credit in a savings account. He had done this for years.
+
+On Friday he received a shock. It was a light pay-roll day--not more
+than a quarter million dollars had been set aside for the pay rolls.
+In the line was Phyllis, satchel in hand. He greeted her as usual,
+counted the packages of bills and rolls of silver. And then, as he
+unlocked the little window of his cage to return to her the satchel, he
+visioned the ponderous figure of Jim Hanvey lolling indifferently over
+the shelf; round idiotic eyes fixed unseeingly upon him. Fear flashed
+into Cliff's heart and the color receded from his cheeks. What was the
+significance of that? Was it possible----With an almost hysterical
+gesture he slammed shut the window. Hanvey's eyes blinked once, slowly;
+a second time, more slowly. Then he moved heavily away, playing with
+his gold toothpick.
+
+That night as Cliff was driving with Phyllis in the country--"That was
+Hanvey standing by the window to-day when I cashed your pay-roll check."
+
+The girl shuddered. "Ugh! He's horrid. Like a jellyfish."
+
+"I wonder why he did that? He's never done it before."
+
+"Did what?"
+
+"Hung over the counter while I was cashing your pay-roll check. I
+wonder if he suspects----"
+
+"That man! He looks like an imbecile."
+
+"Looks like, yes. But he is supposed to be a great detective."
+
+"It's impossible."
+
+"He's getting on my nerves, Phyllis. I can't help but believe that he
+suspects something. At times I feel a contempt for his obtuseness.
+Then I know that I'm wrong. He couldn't be what he is and be the
+fool he looks. And he doesn't do anything. He's never questioned me.
+He's never questioned any one. He just sits there and watches and
+watches--like--like a Buddha."
+
+Nor did the weeks which followed alter the situation. Jamieson reported
+to the bank officials that in his opinion there had been no robbery.
+Burton concurred. They had arrived at the definite conclusion that the
+money had never reached the bank. In answer to Cliff's statement that
+it had, they admitted that Cliff believed so--but was in error. Cliff
+refused to be convinced, and thus established more firmly than ever in
+their minds the fact that he was innocent of complicity in the crime.
+It was the theory of Jamieson and Burton that in securing the unusually
+large amount of cash from the District Federal Reserve Bank to meet
+the heavy pay rolls of that particular day, a miscount had been made
+at the sending source and the checking up at the Third National had
+been faulty. True, the accounts of the Federal Reserve Bank showed no
+surplus of one hundred thousand dollars, but both Jamieson and Burton
+were optimistic that it would eventually come to light.
+
+Cliff Wallace knew that he had been successful. No hint of suspicion
+had fallen upon him. The worst that had been said against him was that
+he had been careless in counting the money as it came into his vaults.
+He was sorrowful about that--ostentatiously so, just as he would
+normally have exhibited grief at any suggestion of inefficiency. The
+bank officials did not blame him. Most of them had climbed the ladder
+slowly and they were familiar with the nagging routine of the paying
+teller's cage, the inevitable liability to error. Undoubtedly, they
+thought, the money would appear eventually. It was absurd to doubt
+Clifford Wallace. Two detectives had shadowed him meticulously. The
+orderly existence of the chief paying teller was unaltered. He went his
+way serenely.
+
+To Wallace it seemed more than worth the trouble. Lying in the vaults
+of the City Trust was one hundred thousand dollars in cash, an amount
+sufficient to yield seven thousand income invested with moderate
+acumen. That meant leisure and ease for himself and Phyllis through
+life. He did not want anything more. He knew that he would never again
+be tempted to crime; not that he was morally opposed to it, but because
+it wasn't worth the danger.
+
+One hundred thousand dollars was adequate to their needs. He had
+planned this thing for two years. Now it had been worked successfully.
+
+If it only wasn't for Jim Hanvey, those wide-staring eyes. He couldn't
+get away from those eyes, from the insolent indolence of the man, his
+apparent indifference to the mystery he was supposed to be solving.
+All day he lounged around the bank; ignorant, bunglesome, awkward,
+inactive. He inspected no books, asked no questions, exhibited no
+suspicion of Cliff Wallace. Yet Cliff felt those inhuman eyes focused
+upon him at all times. And that incident of Hanvey's presence at the
+cage when he cashed Phyllis' pay-roll check--that was fraught with deep
+significance.
+
+"He suspects me," proclaimed the chief paying teller to his accomplice.
+"He knows that I did it and is just trying to find out how."
+
+She held his hand between both of hers. "I'm afraid, Cliff. Horribly
+afraid."
+
+"If he'd only say something! I wish he'd arrest me."
+
+"Cliff!"
+
+"I mean it. If he'd arrest me they'd prosecute, and they couldn't
+possibly convict. They haven't a thing on me. I'd be acquitted in jig
+time. Then he could go to the devil--Hanvey and those fish eyes of his.
+I'd be safe then--even if they found out later that I had done it."
+
+"You mean that you couldn't be tried twice for the same offense?"
+
+"That's it."
+
+"Then why not induce them to--to prosecute?"
+
+He shook his head. "I can't. I've tried it, but old Warren and Garet
+Jenkins are convinced that I'm innocent. Jamieson and Burton both
+believe the money never got to the bank. And Hanvey just sits around
+like a hoot owl at noon and does nothing. It's Hanvey I'm afraid of. He
+knows! The only thing he doesn't know is how!"
+
+Two more weeks passed. Wallace's hope that Hanvey would depart proved
+ill-founded. The big, awkward man was there at eight o'clock every
+morning, and there he remained until the books were closed at night.
+He spoke to nobody save in the most casual way. Every other employe of
+the bank came to take him for granted. They were interested in him at
+first, but later accepted him as they accepted the marble pillars which
+stubbed the lobby. He was big and lumbering and uncouth, and gradually
+they forgot his reputation as a bank detective.
+
+But Clifford Wallace did not forget. In his eyes there had been born
+a hunted, haunted look. Hanvey's flabby, rather coarse face had a
+hypnotic effect upon him. He found himself wondering what obliquitous
+course this man was pursuing, what method there might be in his madness
+of inactivity. He felt like an ill man who finds himself daily in the
+room with a coffin. Hanvey's stolid demeanor generated an association
+of ideas that was irresistibly horrible.
+
+It was obvious that Hanvey suspected something, some one; equally plain
+that he did not suspect any one else in that bank. It must be, then,
+that he did suspect Cliff. And then he commenced visiting Cliff's cage.
+
+He did it only a few times. His manner was friendly, almost apologetic.
+But he had a mean insinuating way of appearing at the cage door and
+rattling the knob. Cliff would whirl and find those dull inhuman eyes
+blinking slowly at him.
+
+"Can I come in, Mr. Wallace?" And then once inside the cage: "Jest
+wanted to pass the time of day with you."
+
+Invariably, then, the same formula. A browsing around the tiny cage.
+A peeping into the money-stocked vault of the paying teller. "Gosh!
+That's a heap of money."
+
+"Yes." Cliff found himself on edge when Hanvey was in his cage.
+
+"Never knew there was that much money in the world."
+
+Damn the man! Always obvious in his speech.
+
+"Didn't you?"
+
+"Nope. Sure didn't."
+
+Hanvey never mentioned the robbery. His indifference must be studied;
+all part of a net-spreading process. Cliff was frightened. He recalled
+the adage that a detective can err a thousand times and yet win; the
+criminal cannot afford to slip once. He regulated his daily life
+scrupulously. At the end of another month he again deposited his
+regular amount of savings. He saw to it that Phyllis did the same. But
+the strain was telling on him. His appetite had gone, dark circles
+appeared under his eyes. He wished daily that he'd be summoned into
+Warren's office to face the thing out with Jim Hanvey. He knew they
+couldn't convict, that they didn't have a thing against him. Even the
+box in which reposed their hundred thousand dollars stood in the name
+of Mrs. Harriet Dare, Phyllis' dead sister. Before her death Phyllis
+had been authorized in writing to be permitted to the box. Cliff had
+taken care that the box remained in the name of the estimable and
+defunct lady.
+
+He became moody and depressed, obsessed with speculation as to what was
+happening behind the bovinely expressionless face of the detective. The
+man's countenance was blank, but Cliff was no fool--he knew that it
+masked an alert mind. True, he'd seen no indication of that alertness,
+but he knew that it must be so. And Hanvey's inactivity was telltale.
+Hanvey knew that he had done it, and was waiting with oxlike patience
+to discover how.
+
+Sooner or later he'd learn. How, Cliff didn't know. But no scheme is
+so perfect that it can stand the test of unflagging and unceasing
+surveillance. And when he did learn--Cliff shuddered. He knew full well
+what they did to crooked bank employees. Robert Warren would be hard in
+such a situation--very hard, merciless.
+
+Then came another big pay-roll day, and Phyllis' weekly visit with the
+modest check from her firm. This time Hanvey fell into line behind
+her. Cliff saw him coming, and his face blanched. Phyllis noticing his
+pallor turned and stared into the expressionless countenance of the big
+unkempt detective. The color receded from her cheeks, too, and her hand
+trembled visibly as she shoved her satchel through the little window of
+Cliff's cage.
+
+His fingers were trembling as he counted the money. He chatted with
+Phyllis, the effort being visible and unnatural.
+
+The girl moved away and Hanvey looked after her trim blue-suited
+figure. Then he turned his froglike eyes back to Cliff Wallace and
+blinked in that maddening way of his.
+
+"Durned pretty girl."
+
+"Yes." He was short, nerves ajangle.
+
+"Friend of yours?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Awful pretty girl."
+
+Hanvey moved away. Cliff staring after his waddling figure restrained
+with difficulty an impulse to scream. And when he left the bank that
+day he did something he had seldom done before in his life--he took a
+drink of whisky. Then he went to see Phyllis.
+
+He was but a nervous shell of himself when he took her riding that
+night. He was a victim to nerves. Insomnia had gripped him--insomnia
+interrupted by a succession of nightmares in which he was hounded by a
+pair of glassy eyes which blinked slowly, interminably.
+
+"It's all off, Phyllis."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Hanvey knows I did it. Sooner or later he'll figure out how."
+
+"I thought--to-day--when he hung over the counter----"
+
+"I'm afraid he's about worked it out. We're near the ragged edge."
+
+She commenced to cry. "Cliff----"
+
+"Don't weep. It isn't going to do us a bit of good. The man is driving
+me crazy. I tell you there's only one thing to do."
+
+"And that is----"
+
+"Confess."
+
+"Oh-h-h!"
+
+He laughed bitterly. "Don't worry. They'll never know you had anything
+to do with it. You get the money out in the morning. Bring it to me
+just as it stands--wrapped in brown paper. I'll carry it to old man
+Warren. I'll offer to solve the mystery and see that the money is
+returned in exchange for a promise of immunity."
+
+"Will he keep his promise?"
+
+"Absolutely. He's that sort. He'd not prosecute anyway. It would injure
+the bank's reputation. A bank always prefers to hush up this sort
+of thing. They prosecute only when it's been very flagrant or when
+they have to secure a conviction so that the bonding company will be
+responsible for their loss. So, to-morrow----"
+
+She rested her head briefly against his shoulder. "You're right, Cliff.
+And I'll be glad when it's all over. So very, very glad. I've been
+afraid, dear."
+
+She delivered the money to him at eleven o'clock the following morning.
+It was Saturday; the bank closed at twelve. He saw the eyes of Jim
+Hanvey blinking accusingly at him through the morning, and found
+himself trembling. Suppose Hanvey should accuse him at this moment,
+when he was on the verge of confession?
+
+Noon. The great doors of the bank were closed. Cliff locked his cage,
+tucked the brown paper package under his arm and closeted himself
+with the president. During the walk across the lobby he had felt the
+horrible knowing eyes of the detective fastened upon him, leechlike.
+
+The scene with Robert Warren developed just as he had anticipated. The
+president readily promised immunity, the cash was produced and counted.
+Warren was shocked and genuinely grieved. He was considerate enough to
+refrain from questioning as to the identity of the accomplice, although
+Cliff felt that the man knew.
+
+Of course, he said, Cliff could consider himself discharged. The matter
+would never become known; the bank sought no such notoriety. Mr.
+Warren trusted that this would be a lesson to Cliff; he was sure that
+conscience had wrung this confession from the young man. Cliff acted
+his part adequately.
+
+But all the time his heart was singing. A load had been removed. His
+fear of Jim Hanvey had turned into a deep, passionate, personal hatred.
+He felt that he'd like to fasten his fingers in that fat, flabby throat.
+
+He swung out of the president's office. The loss of the hundred
+thousand dollars meant little as against the relief he experienced in
+the freedom from fear of those mesmeric, expressionless eyes. As he
+stepped into the lobby he felt them fastened upon him.
+
+Cliff couldn't resist the impulse. Pent-up emotion demanded expression
+in words. Cliff knew that he must tell this heavy-set, slow-moving man
+that he had been outwitted. He strode across the lobby and pulled up
+short before the detective.
+
+"Well, Hanvey, you're too late."
+
+The eyelids dropped slowly, then opened even more slowly. "Huh?"
+
+"I beat you to it." Cliff was gripped by a moderate hysteria. "I've
+fixed everything--for myself. You don't get a bit of glory. And I
+wanted the satisfaction of telling you that I've known from the first
+you suspected me."
+
+Jim Hanvey's fishy eyes opened wide, then narrowed. His fat fingers
+fumbled awkwardly with the glittering gold toothpick. His demeanor was
+one of bewilderment and utter lack of comprehension.
+
+"What you talkin' about, son? Suspected you of what?"
+
+Cliff felt suddenly cold. There was a disquieting ring of truth in
+the drawling voice. Was it possible that this hulk of a man had not
+suspected him, that the confession had been unnecessary? His trembling
+hands sought the pudgy shoulders of the detective.
+
+"You've been watching me and my cage, haven't you?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"Well--why?"
+
+The big man's manner was genial, friendly. His dull round eyes blinked
+and his voice dropped discreetly. "Jest between us, son, I reckon there
+ain't no harm in me explainin'. 'Bout three years ago Spade Gormon,
+cleverest forger in the country, pulled an awful neat job in Des
+Moines. Then he dropped outa sight. We ain't heard nothin' of him till
+Headquarters got the tip he was operatin' in this district. We knew
+good and well if he was he'd sooner or later try to slip a bum check
+over on this bank, it bein' the biggest one hereabouts. So as I know
+Spade pretty well an' personal, they sent me down here to loaf around
+until he showed up."
+
+Cliff Wallace's hands dropped limply to his sides. It was hard to
+understand. "Then you weren't even working on my case?"
+
+"No, I wasn't workin' on your case. An' if you went an' confessed
+anything, you probably done yourself an awful dirty trick. Far as I'm
+concerned, son, I ain't even been interested in your case since I got
+an inside tip it had been dropped."
+
+
+
+
+                             HOMESPUN SILK
+
+
+Jim Hanvey was not at all the type of man one envisions when the word
+"detective" is mentioned. He was immoderately large and shapeless
+and his cheap ready-made clothes flapped grotesquely about the
+ungainly figure. Above a collar of inconsequential height but amazing
+circumference arose a huge head which contained a face of incarnadined
+complexion, scant and unkempt hair, pendulous jowls and twin chins. His
+lips were large and loose, ears flappy, and his eyes----
+
+The eyes were the outstanding feature of Jim Hanvey's topography.
+They were strikingly inexpressive; great sleepy orbs of fishy hue,
+impressing one with the idea of sightlessness. It seemed impossible
+that those eyes were capable of vision. They sat glassily in the
+red pudgy face beneath a hedge of overdeveloped brows. And Jim's
+blinking--as a matter of fact, he didn't blink; he yawned with his
+eyelids. An interminably slow process of drooping the lids over
+the dull-gray eyes, of holding them shut for a moment, and then of
+uncurtaining them with even more maddening deliberation.
+
+Jim emerged heavily from the dilapidated taxicab which screeched to a
+halt before the ornate portals of the Hanover Apartments. He turned
+hesitantly toward the taxidriver, who made no effort to conceal the
+vastness of his contempt. "How much I owe you, son?"
+
+The meter was consulted--a mere matter of form. "Dollar forty."
+
+Jim Hanvey whistled in protest as he counted out one wrinkled dollar
+bill, a quarter, a dime and a nickel. Then as he waddled into the
+Hanover he shook his head slowly. "Dollar forty! Holy smokes! An' I
+thought I knew every professional crook in America."
+
+He walked uncertainly through the cheaply magnificent lobby. The ebony
+lad at the switchboard eyed him insolently. Jim paused, toying with a
+gold toothpick which hung suspended from a watchchain of hawserlike
+proportions.
+
+"Mr. Arthur Sherwood in?"
+
+"Yeh. Who wants to see him?"
+
+Hanvey's bushy eyebrows arched in surprise. "Why, me, of course."
+
+"Who you is?"
+
+"Hanvey is my name. Mr. James Hanvey."
+
+"Huh!" The boy plugged in viciously, and then, into the transmitter:
+"That you, Mistuh Sherwood?... There's a guy down here wants to see
+you.... Says his name is James Hanvey.... Yeh! Hanvey.... All right,
+suh." He turned back and vouchsafed his information grudgingly. "Mistuh
+Sherwood says come right up. Apahtment Fo'-twelve."
+
+Hanvey moved a couple of steps toward the elevator, then turned for a
+moment. "Son!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Next time I come remember I ain't no guy. I'm a feller."
+
+Sherwood answered Hanvey's ring in person; a slender man of medium
+height, distinguished in appearance, exquisitely groomed, very much at
+ease. He ushered his visitor into a richly comfortable library, where
+he motioned toward a chair, into which Hanvey thumped gratefully. He
+stared about the room in frank approval.
+
+"Awful soft, eh, Arthur?"
+
+The host smiled, exhibiting twin rows of even white teeth. "Rather
+comfortable."
+
+"Business must be good."
+
+"It is. Very."
+
+"H'mph!"
+
+Hanvey yawned with his eyes, inspecting the rich furnishings, which
+gave testimony to the unerringly fastidious taste of the owner. Still
+gazing Jim produced from a tarnished almost-silver cigar case two
+projectiles of profound blackness. He handed one to Sherwood, who
+accepted it gingerly, smelled of it suspiciously, and then emitted a
+single exclamation of protest.
+
+"It ain't the worst in the world," remarked Hanvey. Sherwood produced
+a bottle and glasses. Hanvey joined him with gusto. "Here's to you,
+Arthur. May the judge give you a light sentence."
+
+Sherwood smiled with his lips, but in his eyes lay a faint light of
+apprehension. He made no comment upon the detective's toast. For a few
+minutes silence maintained between them, Hanvey draining his liquor at
+a gulp, Sherwood sipping his with the relish of a connoisseur. It was
+the visitor who broke the silence.
+
+"It's gonna be pretty tough, Arthur--givin' up all of this."
+
+"Is it?"
+
+"Uh-huh. But you shouldn't have done it."
+
+It was patent that Sherwood was very much on guard. "Done what?"
+
+"Steal them jools off Mrs. Haley."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yeh--you. It was a pretty slick piece of work, Arthur. But it wasn't
+quite slick enough."
+
+Sherwood seated himself opposite the detective and crossed one leg over
+the other. He lighted a cigar of his own, a rich, fragrant, expensive
+thing.
+
+His tone was quietly argumentative as he replied:
+
+"I think it was slick enough, Jim."
+
+"Aw, Arthur! I'm s'prised at you."
+
+"I was a bit surprised at myself, Jim. As a matter of fact, I don't
+believe you're going to arrest me for that little affair."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"You can't prove a thing. And if you arrest me without sufficient
+evidence to convict, you'll have the double disappointment of seeing
+yourself made ridiculous while I go free. And safe."
+
+Hanvey nodded agreement. "You're an awful plausible talker, Arthur." He
+leaned forward in his chair. "Just between friends--you did steal them
+jools, didn't you?"
+
+"Between friends?"
+
+"Uh-huh."
+
+"Yes, I stole them. But you can't prove it, Jim."
+
+"M'm! I could arrest you now an' say that you confessed you stole 'em."
+
+"It wouldn't help you. Any flatfoot can do that any time he wishes--but
+it doesn't secure a conviction. What you need, Jim, is evidence--and
+evidence is the one thing you can't get. If you arrest me and say that
+I confessed I'll simply deny it, and where will you be? You need proof,
+my boy; proof."
+
+Hanvey reflected heavily.
+
+"Reckon you're right, Arthur. I was hoping you wouldn't put me to all
+the trouble of gettin' it. I was hopin' to get away on a little fishin'
+trip."
+
+Sherwood was more at ease. "What makes you think I got that stuff?"
+
+"I don't think it, Arthur; I know it. I suspected it, and
+then I checked up. I'll hand you one thing, son--you sure
+are--what-you-call-it?--an opportunist."
+
+"Am I?"
+
+"You are. I'm handlin' this affair for the company that Mrs. Haley's
+jools was insured in, and I've been down to N'Yawlins checkin' up. I
+reckon I know more about this affair than you do."
+
+"That's interesting."
+
+"Ain't it? An' seein' that you've been so frank as to admit that you
+done it, p'r'aps you'd like to know what I know about it myself, eh?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Jim's voice, flat and expressionless, seemed to fill the expensively
+furnished room.
+
+"Startin' at the beginnin', Arthur, there was Mrs. Grover Haley,
+wife of the president of the L. R. & C. Railroad. Hubby traveled
+the usual route to sudden wealth--engine wiper, fireman, engineer,
+superintendent. Then he made a killing in oil. They elected him
+president of the road. Worth close onto twenty millions now. Lives
+in Chicago. His wife--she ain't exactly one of these here sylphs. He
+married her when he was a fireman. He's president of the road now, but
+she's still a fireman's wife. Fightin' all the time to rise up, but not
+succeedin' specially well.
+
+"This here Mrs. Haley ain't strong on polish, but she's got the old
+ambish by the tail on a downhill pull. Far as her appearance is
+concerned--she ain't got any. She's sort of the same upholstery style
+that I am. An' the only thing she craves in this world is society; none
+of your pikin' society, either, but the genuine stuff; the kind that
+even twenty millions can't buy. For seven years she's been trying to
+jimmy into the real crowd, an' meetin' with about as much success as
+an oyster in a hurdle race." He paused briefly. "I've got it pretty
+straight so far, haven't I, Arthur?"
+
+The other man smiled. "That much is fairly common knowledge."
+
+"Reckon it is. Well, to go on, this here Mrs. Haley starts out from
+Chicago about a month ago in her private car, headed for Palm Beach by
+way of Memphis an' N'Yawlins. She carries with her a maid an' a chef
+an' a butler. Also she carries with her about one hundred and fifty
+thousand dollars' worth of joolry which she plans to wear all at one
+time, just to prove that she's a lady. An' about the time she makes her
+plans a certain Mr. Arthur Sherwood, who is playin' the races down in
+N'Yawlins, gets wind of it and decides to make a play for them stones.
+
+"Far as I can see, Arthur, you started out without any definite plan.
+Opportunist--ain't that the word I used before? You figured that all
+you needed was to get close enough to them jools for a long enough time
+an' they were yours. An' so, as society is your fad, you went an' had
+some cards engraved which announced that you was Mr. Albert Grinnell
+Stoneham, said Mr. Stoneham bein' the son of one of the most exclusive
+families socially in New York, where they have society as is society.
+
+"You meet the train at Memphis and just after leaving there your card
+goes back to Mrs. Haley, an' that dame nearly drops dead with joy. To
+make it brief, she lassoes the son of the great Stoneham family and
+makes him her guest. It looks like the first real break-in she's made
+in seven years, as it gives her an elegant excuse to drop in on Pa and
+Ma Stoneham when she gets to New York next time. And so Mr. Sherwood,
+alias Mr. Stoneham, gets an awful warm welcome on the private car, an'
+Mrs. Haley wears a hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of joolry
+every time she comes within range of his eyes." Jim lighted another
+cigar. "Wasn't your fingers itching to grab them stones an' run,
+Arthur?"
+
+"I'm very fond of jewelry, Jim."
+
+"Sure! Or you wouldn't have taken all them chances. I've checked up,
+you see. To get ahead: You reached N'Yawlins at eight o'clock. You
+had been down there at the races, an' you had gone to Memphis to meet
+that train. The car was going out on a Jacksonville train at six the
+next morning. An' you asked Mrs. Haley wouldn't she like to go for a
+sightseeing drive. You went out an' hired a big touring car an' you
+went for the drive. You gave her an awful good feed at Emil's--they say
+you know how to order a swell dinner, Arthur--an' about ten o'clock
+that night you showed up at the Spanish Fort Inn.
+
+"Out there you had a swell time. Bein' known to the head waiter, not to
+mention the proprietor, the sky was the limit. You had cocktails an'
+champagne an' maybe even a liqueur or six. Poor Mrs. Haley, thinkin'
+she was in Rome, done as the Romans did, an', to put it mild an'
+polite, got sweetly spifflicated. Not drunk, but terribly happy. She
+found herself sittin' on top of the world an' didn't care who saw her.
+You left the inn about two in the A.M. an' Mrs. Haley insisted
+on sittin' in front with you so's she could drive the car. You wasn't
+particularly keen about it, but you didn't kick hard enough, because
+same is what she done, the shoffer reclinin' in the back.
+
+"The old dame had started out to prove she could drive--an' she
+proved it. I reckon she must have busted sixty sev'ral times comin'
+into the city. Ol' gal was just naturally havin' a helluva time. That
+is, she was until you got 'most home. It was there that somethin'
+happened--because it was there, Arthur, that a cop seen the speed you
+was goin' at an' tried to stop you. An' poor Mrs. Haley, not carin'
+nothin' for no cops, with a bunch of drinks inside her, ran into him!
+
+"What happened then, Arthur"--and Jim Hanvey shook his enormous head
+reprovingly--"was downright unfortunate. The cop was stunned. You
+stopped your car, an' just when you did the cop moved, indicating that
+he wasn't so terribly hurt. With which the missus slipped into gear,
+stepped on the gas an' let 'er rip. Cop fired one time in the air an'
+you were free. Mrs. Haley drove that car to somewhere in the French
+quarter, you got out an' slipped the scared shoffer a nice piece of
+change to keep mum, and back you beat it to the private car.
+
+"That's where good luck played into your hands, Arthur; right plumb
+into 'em. Bein' an opportunist----Say! That's a swell word, ain't it? I
+got it out of the dictionary before I come here. Bein' an opportunist
+like I was sayin', you'd just stuck around with the fat dame, knowin'
+that sooner or later you'd get a chance at them jools. An' kerflooie,
+her cop-knockin' experience puts everything in your paws. How? Because
+you knew darned good an' well that shoffer was goin' to lay pretty low
+on account of what they'd give him if they ever found out it was his
+car. The farther away he keeps from the spotlight in connection with
+that case the more comfortable he's gonna be.
+
+"An' of course Mrs. Haley is now a fugitive from justice down in
+N'Yawlins.
+
+"You took her back to the private car. She had sobered up more than
+a little, but the strong stuff was still there inside of her. Her
+nerves was doin' a shimmy, an' you gave her plenty more to drink.
+Finally she went to sleep. When that happened you grabbed the jools
+an' hopped the car. Mrs. Haley didn't wake up until she was on her way
+to Jacksonville. It was a couple hours later that she found out the
+jools was gone--an' you too. The old gal nearly went nuts until she
+remembered her insurance, then she figured she was sittin' on Easy
+Street. An' it may interest you to know that the insurance money has
+already been paid to her; one hundred thousand dollars."
+
+Sherwood sat motionless, staring admiringly at the portly detective.
+By no slightest physical sign did he give indication of his genuine
+enthusiasm for Hanvey's deductive powers, although he marveled at them
+with the frank appreciation of one brainy man for the accomplishments
+of another.
+
+Hanvey's story was correct to a detail. Sherwood knew the exhaustive
+search that the detective must have made, the painstaking probing.
+
+And now--"You're working for the insurance company aren't you, Jim?"
+
+"Yeh." Hanvey was very open about it. "We've already paid the money,
+but we're interested now in gettin' the jools back an' puttin' you in
+stir. That's why I come to see you."
+
+Sherwood smiled. "You're not going to arrest me, Jim."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because you can't prove a thing."
+
+Jim grinned. "Maybe not just yet. I've talked to Mrs. Haley. Bein' a
+social climber she ain't any too keen to let it be known publicly that
+she was imposed on by a faker. That'd make folks laugh at her. An'
+if, in addition to that, it was ever known that she was the woman who
+flattened the N'Yawlins cop at the end of a wild party it'd sort of
+queer her about as queer as could be. An' since she ain't sufferin'
+only a fifty-thousand-dollar loss anyway--she most certainly wouldn't
+identify you.
+
+"Y'see, Arthur, it's thisaway: I spotted you easy enough. You are known
+out at the inn. But nobody knew the dame who was with you. An' it was
+her that hit the cop. Also, I'm confessin' frankly that the maid an'
+the chef an' the butler ain't gonna identify you neither. Mrs. Haley
+has fixed them a-plenty. So she's in the clear, you've got the jools,
+an' we're stung. That makes us plumb angry, Arthur; bein' rode for a
+hundred thousand thataway. It just naturally puts it up to me to get
+you an' the jools both."
+
+"I hope you enjoy yourself trying, Jim."
+
+"I been havin' a good enough time a'ready. But I ain't particularly
+keen about the job. You're too good a crook to be in jail. But, by
+gosh, Arthur, you never should of fooled with no woman!"
+
+Sherwood was unimpressed. "You can't find the jewels, Jim."
+
+"Reckon I can. Reckon I can land you too."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Because a crook can't get away with it if the tecs are really after
+him. You've slipped somewhere. It's just up to me to find out where."
+
+"I'm surprised at you--thinking I've slipped."
+
+"You ain't no different from other crooks, Arthur, except you've got
+more sense."
+
+"Well"--Arthur rose ostentatiously--"I reckon you want to trot me down
+to headquarters."
+
+"No. Certainly not. Ain't no use of my arresting you unless you're
+going to plead guilty."
+
+"Sometimes you're a real humorist, Jim."
+
+"Ain't I? I'm awful cute occasionally. What I really come up for,
+Arthur, was to tell you how much I know. I want you to see just where
+you stand. I figured you'd be willin' to help me all you could."
+
+"Certainly, Jim, certainly. Just drop around any old time and talk
+things over. I'll do all in my power to hinder you."
+
+"Thanks, Arthur. I counted on you for that."
+
+They shook hands; slender, immaculate, polished man-about-town and the
+mammoth expressionless detective. The contrast was striking. Sherwood
+ushered Hanvey to the door and bade him a cordial farewell. Then alone,
+the criminal dropped into a chair and mopped his forehead with a silken
+handkerchief.
+
+Hanvey had startled him--just as Hanvey had intended. With uncanny
+intuition Hanvey had pieced together a story so nearly approximating
+the facts that Sherwood was amazed. And he was now very much on guard.
+The one hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of jewelry nestled
+in a safety-deposit box at one of the Manhattan banks. It was a box
+Sherwood had possessed for several years, holding it against just such
+an opportunity as this. It was rented under an assumed name.
+
+Immediately after the jewel robbery he had boarded a train for New
+York, but not before he carefully had unset the gems and pitched the
+elaborate platinum settings into the depths of Lake Pontchartrain. The
+jewels in their little chamois sack were safe.
+
+From the outset Sherwood had realized that he would have difficulty in
+disposing of the gems. He was content. A stake of that size was worth
+waiting for--two years, three, five. But he had not anticipated that
+suspicion would so readily attach to himself. Now that Jim knew the
+story, he felt that he must redouble his precautions.
+
+The Mrs. Haley end of the situation was safe. He smiled at
+recollection of the pitifully gullible wife of the railroad president;
+the blatant, rather vulgar woman who thought to get into the most
+exclusive social circles by a display of jewelry. She had been so
+eagerly responsive to his glib chattering about prominent New Yorkers,
+had so warmly welcomed his casual invitation to telephone when next she
+came to New York in order that his supposed parents should have the
+opportunity of entertaining her.
+
+He had understood fully the value of social position to Mrs. Haley.
+For years she had struggled gamely, mounting with horrid slowness.
+She was jealous of her trifling successes. This story, made public in
+the newspapers and expanded in the dirt-slinging weeklies, would ruin
+her forever. Safety was possible to her in only one way--she must not
+identify the man who had been her guest on the private car. And Hanvey
+had reassured him on that point. That had been the single doubtful link
+in his safety chain; and he knew now that it was one of the strongest.
+
+He'd have to watch Jim Hanvey for a while. It would be an interesting
+game, laughing in his sleeve as Hanvey banged his fat head against an
+endless succession of brick walls. Eventually Jim would tire of the
+search, and then he would dispose of the jewels one by one. Not in a
+group, of course--they were of such great value that the attention of
+the police would immediately be attracted through the kind efforts
+of stool pigeons--but singly, at distant points, and with utmost
+discretion. The more Sherwood contemplated the plan the more assured
+he became. He felt sorry for Jim Hanvey. "Nice fellow too. I hate to
+see him fall down on the case."
+
+As for the detective, he apparently did not share Sherwood's fear for
+his non-success. If he had a worry he concealed it exceedingly well
+behind the pudgy face. Too, he fell into the habit of calling casually
+on Sherwood at odd hours, and discussing the case.
+
+"Hello, Jim. How's old Sherlock Holmes getting on?"
+
+"So-so, Arthur; just so-so."
+
+"Haven't gathered any definite information, have you?"
+
+"You know durn well I haven't, Arthur."
+
+"You'd better get them to shift you to something else. You'll never get
+the dope on me."
+
+"Maybe not. An' maybe so. There ain't no tellin'."
+
+Sherwood leaned forward and rested a friendly hand on Jim Hanvey's
+knee. "On the level, Jim, you're wasting your time. You know me; you
+know I'm not a fool."
+
+"Sure, I know that."
+
+"And you know that I've taken every possible precaution. I was careful
+enough before; I'm doubly careful now. With you on the case, Jim, I
+wouldn't take a chance for anything in the world."
+
+"You're terrible complimentary."
+
+"I know you, Jim. You ain't half the fool you look. You couldn't be.
+Now, frankly, I don't expect to cash in on this little deal for four or
+five years, and----"
+
+"You ain't ever going to cash in on it, Arthur."
+
+The narrow, rather ascetic face of the criminal broke into a broad
+grin. "Trying to make me apprehensive?"
+
+"No; just talkin' sense. You know the gang I'm working for. It ain't so
+much the hundred thou' insurance money they've shelled out as it is the
+principle of the thing. They're just butt-headed enough to be willin'
+to spend money an' time to get you."
+
+"It's impossible."
+
+"Nothin's impossible. No matter how clever you are, you've slipped
+somewhere."
+
+"I haven't slipped."
+
+"You think you haven't. An' as for you cashing in, you never will.
+You're playing a lone hand, Arthur, but I ain't. Real detectives never
+do. I've got the police of the country helpin' me on this thing, an'
+every stool pigeon we've got is watching for them jools. They're going
+to keep on watching. An'"--Jim Hanvey leaned forward earnestly--"you
+ain't gonna cash in on this deal, Arthur, because there ain't a livin'
+human bein' who'd buy them jools offen you. Not a single living soul."
+
+Sherwood laughed shortly. He was impressed, and tried not to show it.
+
+"We know every fence who'd handle a deal of that size, Arthur. Every
+one of them. An' they're all bein' watched. The little jools don't
+matter, but the minute one of them big ones shows up--we're on a hot
+trail. An' then Mr. Sherwood does a stretch--worse luck."
+
+"I'll wait."
+
+"So will we. Waitin' is the best thing we do. We're just naturally
+bound to get you. I'd be doubtful if there was any person in the world
+you could sell them jools to, but there ain't. Not a one. We've taken
+care of that. An' the comp'ny has told me the sky's the limit. Besides,
+Arthur, there ain't so bloomin' many places you could of hid them
+jools. All the time you're waitin' we're workin'. You can't get away
+with it. The minute I was sure it was you I knew it was just a question
+of time before I landed you with the dope. Now if you was willin' to
+make a clean breast of it----"
+
+Sherwood threw back his head and laughed. "Jim Hanvey! I thought better
+of you than that."
+
+"A'right." The detective hoisted himself from the depths of a leather
+rocker. "Have it your own way, Arthur. But I sure do wish it was some
+other feller than you. I'm awful strong for you."
+
+"I know it, Jim." There was genuine feeling in the other's voice. "It's
+just a little game; you're on one side and I'm on the other. One of us
+has got to lose--and I'm plumb sorry it's you."
+
+Alone again Sherwood walked to the window, where he stood looking down
+into Central Park. Dusk was merging gently into night. The shadowy
+walks under the trees were dislimning in the softly gathering gloom.
+There floated up to his ears the commanding screech of automobile
+sirens, the clang of passing Eighth Avenue cars, the voices of a group
+of children. Then into the picture bulked the slouching figure of Jim
+Hanvey.
+
+Sherwood watched the ungainly hulk interestedly. He saw Hanvey enter
+the park and pause to light a cigar. There was something almost
+pathetic about the big hulking man, a humbleness that was deceptive to
+those who did not know him intimately. Too, there was a fairness and
+squareness which made him popular with the higher class of criminals.
+They knew he was on the level. He took no unfair advantage of them. He
+played the game clean. "If I've got to be caught I'd rather Jim Hanvey
+made the pinch." That was the idea; they were proud of their friendship
+with Jim Hanvey. They played clean with him and he with them. He looked
+out for them after he arrested them; saw they were given a square deal;
+didn't forget them when they were doing time. A lonely man, Jim Hanvey;
+big and ugly and ungainly--and eagerly friendly. His best friends stood
+high in the criminal social register. Outside the underworld he had no
+intimates.
+
+Sherwood saw him walk on slowly, in the lumbering gait of a man too
+bulky for his feet. And gradually the big figure was lost in the gloom.
+He was there--then gone. Sherwood turned away from the window, "It's a
+dirty shame. He would have made a wonderful crook."
+
+He pondered over his recent conversation with the detective. Jim's
+utterances were worthy of serious reflection; Jim was not given to
+trickery of speech. Besides he knew Sherwood too well to bluff. He
+understood that Sherwood would play a waiting game.
+
+Sherwood was willing, but a trifle disturbed. He hadn't anticipated
+having the robbery traced to his door so promptly. There had been no
+opportunity to dispose of even a few of the gems. And he wasn't too
+well supplied with cash. Of course with Jim watching every move it
+would be impossible to pull another job; he'd have to lay low and take
+things easy. Worse luck.
+
+Jim was right of course. At present there was no one to whom he could
+sell the jewels. No professional fence would handle them, and if an
+amateur took over the jewels he, Sherwood, would be lucky to get ten
+thousand dollars. "And I'll never let them go for that; not if I have
+to wait ten years."
+
+He visited Jim Hanvey a couple of days later. "I've been thinking over
+our little talk, Jim."
+
+"That's good."
+
+"Suppose I handed the jewels to you, would you forget that you knew who
+took them?"
+
+"Wish I could, Arthur, but it isn't possible. We want you."
+
+Sherwood shrugged. "I'll just have to wait then."
+
+"That's foolish. I'll get you sooner or later. You might as well come
+clean and start serving your time now. Every day you put it off is just
+that much time wasted."
+
+"I've got plenty of time, Jim."
+
+"Yeh, reckon so. I hardly thought you'd 'fess up."
+
+"Not a chance."
+
+"I'm real sorry for you, Arthur. All that trouble, all that risk--and
+you ain't gonna get nothin' out of it."
+
+"I'll make out very well."
+
+"Nope. You can't sell 'em, an' there ain't no other way of realizin' on
+your investment of time and effort."
+
+Sherwood knew that he must hold on for a long, long while. It was
+awkward, but necessary. He was too clever a performer to worry about
+financial stringency. Jim was after him now as keenly as he was after
+the jewels, even more so. Of course he had never intended turning
+the jewels over to Hanvey; had quizzed him solely for the purpose of
+finding out whether it was the man or the jewels they were seeking. The
+fact that it was the former made greater caution imperative.
+
+Jim was using the police too. That was further embarrassment. The
+police system bothers criminals, it is so extensive and comprehensive,
+a system of surveillance that eventually wears a man down. Playing
+lone hands, Sherwood knew that the advantage would always be with
+the criminal. But fighting against the individual brilliance of a
+detective and the inexorable patience and scope of the nation's police
+departments, a man had to watch his step pretty carefully.
+
+Sherwood was willing--but it was deucedly uncomfortable.
+
+Jim had impressed him. There was no one to whom he could sell the
+jewels; not for several years, at any rate, not a soul. Unless,
+perhaps----Sherwood nodded slowly. "It's worth thinking over," he told
+himself.
+
+Two days later Sherwood's telephone buzzed, and Jim Hanvey's monotonous
+droning voice came to him over the wire:
+
+"That you, Arthur?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"This is Jim Hanvey."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Busy?"
+
+"Not particularly."
+
+"How 'bout droppin' over to my rooms a minute. I got somethin' to show
+you; somethin' real interestin'."
+
+"Coming."
+
+"Right away?"
+
+"Pronto."
+
+A taxi, a swift journey uptown to West 110th Street; Jim Hanvey's
+three-room apartment--a stuffy affair grotesquely furnished and vilely
+kept; three rooms which sagged under the heavy odor of Jim's cigars.
+
+Sherwood swore fervently and threw up the windows in the tiny parlor.
+
+"Jim, you shouldn't."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Smoke those cigars indoors."
+
+"Oh! Them? Gosh! I like 'em."
+
+"The other tenants don't kick?"
+
+"Dunno. The janitor done time once in Joliet, an' him an' me is
+buddies. He was a awful rotten yegg, but he's a swell janitor. That
+just shows----Anyway, you ain't interested in him; n'r me neither for
+that matter. I got somethin' to show you."
+
+"So you said."
+
+"C'mere."
+
+Sherwood trailed his host into the dining room. Jim motioned him to a
+chair. "Just got one thing to ask, Arthur; that is that you use your
+eyes--not your hands."
+
+"Whatever you say, Jim."
+
+"Good." From the capacious hip pocket of his voluminous trousers Hanvey
+extracted a little chamois sack. Sherwood's eyes narrowed slightly.
+Chamois sack! Jewelry! Hanvey, apparently unmindful of his visitor,
+droned on:
+
+"Just you watch, Arthur--but remember, hands off."
+
+With a quick deft motion he opened the sack and spilled its contents on
+the imitation-mahogany table. The fishlike eyes of the detective were
+focused vacantly upon Arthur Sherwood, who had started involuntarily
+from his seat. Then Sherwood caught himself, controlled his nerves with
+an effort and tried to smile.
+
+"What's the idea, Jim?"
+
+Hanvey's glassy eyes were turned to the table top, upon which glowed
+and flamed a handful of magnificent gems--matched pearls, diamonds of
+rare cut and brilliance, a huge blood ruby, twin emeralds of enormous
+size and clarity, deep Oriental sapphires. The eyes of the detective
+closed slowly, sleepily, then opened with maddening leisureliness.
+
+"How you like 'em, Arthur?"
+
+Sherwood appeared at ease, but his nerves were under a terrific
+tension. "Very much."
+
+"Look familiar?"
+
+Sherwood nodded frankly. "Yes."
+
+They were familiar; stone for stone they were the jewels he had stolen
+from Mrs. Haley--stolen from her, stripped from their mountings, and
+which at that moment he could have sworn were safe in a box at one of
+the city's largest banks. There was no mistaking them--the ruby, the
+big diamond with the odd workmanship.
+
+"What are they, Jim?"
+
+Hanvey grinned genially.
+
+"Paste."
+
+"Paste?"
+
+"Sure. Can't you tell?"
+
+"Where did you get them?"
+
+"Had 'em made from the descriptions the insurance company has. I think
+they look grand--for paste."
+
+Sherwood stared at the glittering gems as though hypnotized. And while
+he gazed Hanvey's huge hand went out and swept them back into the
+chamois sack. "Awful good imitations, I think, Arthur."
+
+Sherwood laughed weakly. "They are. Mighty clever."
+
+The sack was returned to Hanvey's pocket. "I got to be trottin' along
+downtown, Arthur. That's all I wanted of you--just to show you them
+imitation jools."
+
+Sherwood was nervous. He more than half expected to be arrested, and he
+drew a deep breath of relief as he stepped into the street. He walked
+swiftly toward the corner, turned sharply, and saw Hanvey emerge from
+the apartment house and follow him. A slight frown corrugated the
+criminal's forehead.
+
+He was frankly worried. Hanvey was too insistent about the brummagem
+quality of the gems. Doubt assailed him. Perhaps they were the
+genuine stones. It was impossible--but if they were imitations they
+were wonderful. Suppose Hanvey had discovered the location of his
+safety-deposit box and the name in which it was held? Suppose he had
+actually secured the gems?
+
+Sherwood hailed a passing taxi and entered. As he did so he saw another
+cab ease around the corner. Jim Hanvey overflowed the back seat, cigar
+between his pursy lips. Sherwood spoke swiftly to his driver. "See that
+cab yonder?"
+
+"Yeh."
+
+"Lose it and you get twenty dollars."
+
+"Cinch."
+
+At the same moment Hanvey was speaking with his own driver. "See that
+cab up ahead--the one the good-lookin' feller is just gettin' into?"
+
+"Uh-huh."
+
+"Foller it an' you get five dollars."
+
+"Cinch."
+
+The chase started. Both cabs swung into Riverside Drive at moderate
+speed, Sherwood's driver playing a careful game until such time as he
+might find an opportunity to elude pursuit in a traffic jam. Along
+Riverside they went, turning eastward to Broadway on Seventy-second
+Street, thence down that thoroughfare to Park Circle. It was there that
+luck played into Sherwood's hands. His cab crossed Park Circle just
+as the traffic policeman raised his hand. It took Hanvey fully a half
+minute to exhibit his credentials to the policeman, and by that time
+Sherwood had sped eastward on Fifty-eighth Street, turning downtown on
+Sixth Avenue and doubling back uptown via Fiftieth Street and Ninth
+Avenue.
+
+Sherwood was confident that he had eluded Hanvey, but he was taking no
+chance. As a matter of fact, additional precaution was unnecessary.
+Hanvey's taxi reached Fifty-eighth, Jim glanced down the avenue through
+an endless line of cabs, touring cars and busses, and motioned his
+driver to a halt. "Needn't go no farther, son. They've got away. How
+much?"
+
+"Dollar eighty."
+
+Hanvey handed him a two-dollar bill. "Keep the change." Then, as he
+started across toward the Subway kiosk, he glanced at his watch.
+"Three-thirty--hmph!"
+
+He entered the Subway and rode uptown. When he alighted it was to walk
+to Central Park West and seat himself on the steps of Sherwood's
+apartment house. He was smiling slightly and there appeared to be a
+faint sign of life in his dead fishy eyes. Sherwood had proceeded with
+meticulous care. He left his taxi on West Sixty-fourth Street, took
+a surface car to the Pennsylvania Hotel, entered the Subway via the
+lobby of that hostelry, rode downtown and thence to his bank, where
+he secured access to the safety-deposit box held by himself under the
+alias of Roger Clarkson.
+
+His examination took but a moment. The jewels were there, every last
+one of them. He sighed relievedly. Then as he left the bank he found
+himself worrying. He realized that Jim Hanvey had some deeply ulterior
+motive, that he had not gone to the trouble and expense of securing
+the paste duplicates without making them a part of an elaborate trap.
+Hanvey's very frankness had been disquieting. Paste, said Hanvey, made
+from the insurance-company descriptions. Well, Hanvey had told the
+truth. But why? Sherwood was apprehensive. Here had entered the first
+element the criminal was unable to understand. Until this moment he
+had felt a bit sorry for Jim Hanvey's heavy blundering, his bovine
+indifference and his lethargy. But now----
+
+Still seeking a solution Sherwood rode uptown on the Elevated and then
+walked to his apartment. As he turned in at the door the monster figure
+of Jim Hanvey hoisted itself from the marble steps.
+
+"Hello, Arthur."
+
+"Jim! You here?"
+
+"Naw! I'm over in Brooklyn huntin' for the other end of the bridge."
+
+Sherwood took his friend by the arm. "Come upstairs a minute, Jim. I
+want to chat with you."
+
+"Sure."
+
+Hanvey selected the most comfortable chair and crashed into it.
+Sherwood walked to the window, put up the shade and turned toward the
+Gargantuan figure of his friend. Sherwood's face was in shadow, that of
+the detective in the full glare of daylight--as expressionful as putty.
+
+"I've been trying to figure out your little play, Jim."
+
+"Have you?"
+
+"Yes. And I don't get the answer. About the only idea I can see behind
+it was that you showed me those imitations to make me go down to the
+vault where I have the real stones to reassure myself."
+
+"You're hittin' on all six so far, Arthur."
+
+"And that you'd trail me there and find out what box----"
+
+"Arthur Sherwood! I'm plumb disappointed in you--knockin' me thataway.
+You don't honestly think I thought I could trail you through the
+streets of New York, do you?"
+
+"It didn't seem so, Jim--unless you were attaining your second
+childhood. But I couldn't figure out any other reason--and you did try
+to follow me."
+
+Hanvey shook his head slowly. "Nope."
+
+"In that taxi?"
+
+"That wasn't my idea, Arthur." The detective's big spatulate fingers
+drummed lightly on the table. "All I was doin', Arthur, was to make
+sure that you was tryin' to shake me!"
+
+"A-ah!" Sherwood's thin lips compressed. Hanvey waved genially. "Think
+it over."
+
+Sherwood thought it over. Then: "Well, I was trying to shake you. Where
+does that get you?"
+
+"A heap of places, Arthur. 'Cause how? 'Cause the minute you tried to
+shake me I knew good an' well you was doin' it because you was headed
+for the vault where you had the jools hid. Of course it is a vault--no
+crook of your intelligence would hide 'em anywheres else. So the minute
+you gave me the slip I come on back here an' waited for you."
+
+"Ye-e-es." Sherwood was puzzled. "But why?"
+
+"Because, Arthur, I laid an awful clever trap for you, an' you fell
+into it. You don't mind my callin' myself clever, do you, Arthur? I
+really do think it was an awful good stunt I pulled."
+
+"Just what was it, Jim?"
+
+Hanvey glanced at his enormous watch. "Just this: At some time between
+3:45 and 4:30 this afternoon you went to your bank box. You signed your
+card--under an alias, of course. An' to-morrow mornin' I start out
+inspectin' the vault cards of every bank in New York. I'll get help
+from headquarters, an' eventually we'll check up on every man, woman
+an' child who entered a bank box in that three-quarters of an hour."
+
+The detective grinned in boyish approval of his own acumen. "'Tain't
+gonna be such an easy job, Arthur, but it ain't gonna be so hard
+neither--me not carin' particularly about time in this case. Of course
+I know the box is in a Manhattan bank, because you got back too quick
+to have gone to Brooklyn or even Jersey City. Jerry Naschbaum, chief
+of the headquarters identification force, will let me have a few good
+men to help. In one week, two weeks mebbe three, we'll check up on
+everybody who entered a bank box between 3:45 and 4:30 to-day. An' when
+we've done that, Arthur, we'll have you. See?"
+
+Arthur saw. "I wish some one else was on this case, Jim. You're too
+blamed painstaking."
+
+"Better 'fess up now."
+
+"No; I'll take my chances."
+
+"Ain't gonna get you nowhere. You can't sell them jools; there ain't a
+soul in the world would buy 'em offen you."
+
+"Maybe not." Sherwood opened the door invitingly. "Sorry you have to be
+going, Jim."
+
+"I'm sorry myself, Arthur." He turned at the doorway. "I'm kinder cute
+yet, ain't I?"
+
+"I hope not, Jim," was the answer.
+
+It did not take Sherwood long to realize that he was nearing the end of
+his rope. He might have known that Jim Hanvey was going to trap him.
+That had been a clever trick of Jim's, and it promised definite and
+fairly immediate results. Hanvey was right; the task of checking up
+would be a slow and difficult undertaking, but Sherwood knew the police
+system sufficiently well to understand--and fear--its tirelessness.
+Eventually they'd complete their check-up, and when they did----
+
+Sherwood admitted to himself that he must dispose of the jewels.
+Thought of transferring them to another box was out of the question.
+They'd discover that eventually. The thing to do was to rid himself
+of the gems. But Jim Hanvey had insisted that he could not sell them
+because there was no market. Jim had spoken truly. No market. "Oh,
+confound Mrs. Haley and her jewelry!"
+
+Sherwood caught his breath suddenly. Mrs. Haley! Puffy, ponderous Mrs.
+Haley! The poor, bewildered, self-sufficient Mrs. Haley, who had lost
+one hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of jewelry and been
+partially reimbursed with one hundred thousand dollars of the insurance
+company's money. Sherwood smashed his right fist into the palm of his
+left hand.
+
+"There's my market! I'll sell the jewels back to Mrs. Haley!"
+
+He paced the room, his brain running riot with the sardonic daring of
+his scheme. He knew Jim Hanvey was not infallible. Jim had been so
+confident that no one would buy the jewels--so confident that he had
+completely overlooked Mrs. Haley.
+
+And Mrs. Haley would buy. He'd make her buy. No one would think of
+looking to her for the gems. She could have them set in new mountings
+and no one would ever be the wiser. He'd sell them to her for fifty
+thousand dollars, and she'd be fifty thousand dollars winner on the
+transaction. Then Jim Hanvey could search all he pleased.
+
+He telephoned Mrs. Haley. She was decidedly disinclined to meet him. He
+assumed a threatening tone. She consented fearfully. They met at Port
+Chester, he going there by train and she by automobile. She refused
+frankly to have anything further to do with him.
+
+"Very well, Mrs. Haley. When they arrest me I'll tell the whole story.
+What happened in New Orleans for one thing; then about your refusal
+to identify me--I know they've shown you my picture. It will be a
+choice morsel for the newspapers, and a wonderful story for the society
+weeklies. You'll be laughed out of the country."
+
+"But if they find out that I've bought them back from you----" The
+woman was on the verge of hysteria. She was horribly frightened.
+
+"They won't. You're the last person on earth they'd think of in
+connection with those jewels. You buy them. They can search all they
+please and they can't get the goods on me. They won't even arrest me
+because there'll be no evidence to convict. And you will be fifty
+thousand dollars to the good."
+
+"I can't."
+
+"You can."
+
+"Well, I won't."
+
+A steely light crept into his eyes. "You will! You must!"
+
+Eventually she consented. There was nothing else she could do.
+Petrified with terror, fearful of losing the tiny bit of social
+recognition for which she had so valiantly struggled, inordinately
+afraid of arrest in connection with the New Orleans escapade which had
+assumed Brobdingnagian proportions in her eyes--she agreed to meet him
+in the private dining room of a quiet hotel, bringing with her fifty
+thousand dollars in cash, which was to be exchanged for the jewels. And
+then, apprehensive and nervous, she left him.
+
+Sherwood returned to the city, exultant. His plan had worked. It was
+safe, supremely safe. For, even should she be eventually discovered in
+possession of the jewels, she would never dare tell the true story.
+
+But Jim Hanvey had not been idle. He made careful investigation and
+then spent the entire afternoon chatting with the presidents of the
+four New York banks where Mrs. Haley maintained personal checking
+accounts. "She'll cash a big check here in the next few days,"
+explained the detective to each of them. "A thunderin' big check; an'
+she'll take the money in legal tender. Minute she does, telephone my
+apartment. Ask for a feller named Henry Jones. He'll take the message
+an' get in touch with me."
+
+And then Jim Hanvey personally took unto himself the task of watching
+Mrs. Haley.
+
+It was not difficult. Suspecting no surveillance Mrs. Haley conducted
+herself so that a blind man could have shadowed her. Mrs. Haley's
+single major sorrow in life was the stubborn refusal of her husband to
+take up his residence in New York. Her apartment was a sop, and during
+her occasional sojourns in the metropolis she expended a vast amount of
+effort in the task of letting people know that she was somebody. Purple
+limousine, uniformed chauffeur and footman, shrieking clothes and
+diamond-studded lorgnette combined to make Hanvey's self-appointed task
+absurdly simple. And on the morning of the third day following, the man
+called Jones notified his superior that only a few hours previously
+Mrs. Haley had personally cashed her check for fifty thousand dollars.
+
+Jim received the report with a nod. He was lolling comfortably in a
+taxicab owned by the police department and driven by one of his own
+operatives. "Yeh! I knew somethin' was about to break. I follered
+her down to the bank an' seen her when she went in. She's in yonder
+now"--he nodded in the general direction of the gingerbready apartment
+house--"an' she'll be comin' out directly. Beat it, Henry."
+
+Henry beat it. The purple limousine appeared. So, too, did Mrs. Haley.
+Twenty minutes later she entered a modest downtown hotel. Hanvey
+waited until she had crossed the lobby in the wake of a bellhop and
+disappeared into an elevator. Then he followed and exhibited his
+credentials to the manager, receiving from that startled dignitary a
+bit of helpful information.
+
+"There's a man in that private dining room already, isn't there?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Good. I'll trot along up."
+
+He allowed them ample time for conversation. And when he opened the
+door with a master key furnished by the hotel management it was to
+interrupt an interesting tableau.
+
+By the table stood Mrs. Haley, clutching in her two hands the sack of
+jewels. Sherwood was busily engaged in counting the money she had paid
+over to him. Neither moved.
+
+Hanvey closed the door gently. His wide-open, fishlike eyes blinked
+with amazing slowness. Mrs. Haley choked, spluttered and collapsed
+into a chair. Sherwood's eyes met Hanvey's levelly. The criminal was
+apparently emotionless, a game loser. Very quietly he took the sack of
+jewels from the nerveless hands of Mrs. Haley, returned her money and
+extended the jewels to Hanvey.
+
+"There has been no transaction here of the kind you think, Jim. I
+am handing over the jewels of my own accord, and confessing to the
+robbery. There is no need to drag this lady's name in the mud."
+
+Hanvey bowed with ungainly grace. "Always a gent, eh, Arthur? I'm proud
+of you." He turned to Mrs. Haley. "I reckon it wasn't ever your fault,
+ma'am. An' me an' my friend Mr. Sherwood here will see that you don't
+get no rotten publicity out of it."
+
+She was dazed, but volubly and tearfully grateful. Sherwood, calm and
+dignified, questioned the detective.
+
+"You've got me, Jim. I had a hunch that I wouldn't get away with it.
+But I have a professional and academic interest in the matter. There
+are one or two things I don't quite understand."
+
+"Always at your service, Arthur."
+
+"First and most important"--Sherwood's voice was quietly
+conversational--"what made you think I planned to sell the jewels back
+to Mrs. Haley?"
+
+Hanvey shook his head reprovingly; "I'm s'prised at you for not knowin'
+such a simple thing as that, Arthur. The reason I knew you was gonna
+sell them jools back to Mrs. Haley was because I suggested it to you."
+
+"You suggested----" Then Sherwood smiled in frank admiration. "You mean
+you suggested it when you said----"
+
+"Sure," interrupted Hanvey pleasantly, "when I kept repeatin' that
+there wasn't nobody in the world you could sell 'em to--I meant nobody
+except Mrs. Haley."
+
+
+
+
+                             COMMON STOCK
+
+
+Gerald Corwin emerged from the elevator, glanced apprehensively about
+the ornate lobby of the hotel and walked swiftly toward the dining
+room. But as he handed hat and cane to the checker a huge, ungainly
+figure bulked before him and a mild, pleasant voice brought misery
+where a moment before there had been contentment.
+
+"Gonna eat now, Corwin?"
+
+Gerald sighed resignedly. Too thoroughly a gentleman to display
+consciously his frank distaste, he was yet too poor a dissembler wholly
+to conceal it. He merely nodded and strode disgustedly in the wake of
+the obsequious head waiter, with Jim Hanvey waddling cumbersomely in
+the rear.
+
+Corwin was disgusted with the whole affair, and particularly that phase
+of it which placed him under the chaperonage of the ponderous and
+uncouth detective. Not that Jim had been obtrusive, but the man was
+innately crude, and Corwin despised crudeness.
+
+One could readily understand his antipathy. The two men were as
+dissimilar as an orchid and a turnip. Corwin, about thirty years
+of age, was tall and slender and immaculate, shrieking the word
+"aristocrat" in every cultured gesture. He was unmistakably a
+gentleman, a person to whom æsthetics was all-important, and he could
+not fail to consider Jim Hanvey thoroughly obnoxious.
+
+Jim was all right in his way, perhaps, but never before had Corwin been
+forced into intimate association with a professional detective. He was
+resentful, not of the fact that Jim Hanvey was a detective, but because
+the man was hopelessly uncouth. Jim was an enormous individual and
+conspicuously unwieldy. He wore cheap, ready-made clothes that no more
+than approximately fitted his rotund figure. He smoked vile cigars and
+wore shoes which rose to little peaks at the toes. But Corwin felt he
+could have stood all that were it not for Jim's gold toothpick.
+
+That golden toothpick, suspended as a charm from a hawserlike
+chain extending across Jim's vest, had fascinated Corwin from the
+commencement of their journey to Los Angeles. It was a fearsome,
+flagrant instrument, and Jim Hanvey loved it. It had been presented
+to him years before by a criminal of international fame as a token of
+sincere regard. Otherwise unemployed, Jim was in the habit of sitting
+by the hour with his fat fingers toying with the toothpick. Gerald had
+once hinted that the weapon might better be concealed. His insinuation
+resulted merely in debate.
+
+"Stick it away? Why?"
+
+"A toothpick----"
+
+"Say, listen, Mr. Corwin; have you ever seen a handsomer toothpick?"
+
+"No, but----"
+
+"Well, I haven't either. That's why I'm proud to have folks see it.
+It's absolutely the swellest toothpick in captivity."
+
+No arguing against that, but from the first hour of the
+acquaintanceship Corwin reviled the fates which decreed that for two
+weeks he should be under Hanvey's eye.
+
+The thing was absurd of course. Corwin, fearless and no mean athlete,
+was well able to take care of himself and fulfill the delicate mission
+with which he had been intrusted--a mere matter of securing a proxy
+from Col. Robert E. Warrington and returning with it to New York in
+time for the annual meeting of the stockholders. He was not a simpleton
+and there was no doubting his integrity. Why, then, this grotesque and
+goggle-eyed sleuth?
+
+Matter of fact, Jim had appeared wholly disinterested since their
+departure from New York. All the way across country he had slouched in
+their drawing-room, staring through the window with his great, fishy
+eyes. Those eyes annoyed Corwin. They seemed incapable of vision. They
+were inhuman, stupid, glassy eyes which reflected no intelligence.
+Corwin fancied himself the victim of a stupendous hoax; it was
+unbelievable that this man could rightfully possess a reputation to
+justify the present assignment.
+
+The meal was torture to the fastidious younger man. There was no
+denying that Jim enjoyed his dinner, but the enjoyment was too obvious.
+Jim caught the disapproving glance of his companion and interpreted it
+rightly.
+
+"'Sall right, Mr. Corwin. Eatin' ain't no art with me. It's a pleasure."
+
+Corwin flushed. Suddenly he discovered that Jim was not listening.
+Hanvey had turned slightly and was gazing into a mirror which reflected
+a section of the huge dining room. Corwin followed the direction of his
+gaze and saw that the object of his scrutiny was a man of medium size
+but muscular figure who was searching for a table.
+
+Hanvey was interested, and as an indication of that interest he blinked
+in his interminably deliberate manner, lids closing heavily over the
+fishy eyes, remaining shut for a second, then uncurtaining even more
+slowly. And finally, when the newcomer had seated himself, Jim nodded
+toward him and addressed Corwin.
+
+"Yonder's the answer," he said.
+
+Corwin shook his head in puzzlement.
+
+"To what?"
+
+"Me."
+
+"I don't quite understand."
+
+"See that feller who just come in?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It's him."
+
+Corwin inspected the newcomer with fresh interest. The man was of a
+type, one of those optimistic individuals who futilely struggle to
+acquire gentility and who fondly believe they have succeeded. In every
+studied move of the man one could discern mental effort. Even the
+hypercorrect raiment was subtly suggestive of a disguise. There was
+nothing flagrantly wrong with the man, just as there was nothing quite
+as it should be. Corwin, himself not an overly keen student of human
+nature, could yet fancy the stranger's manner of speech--careful,
+precise, stilted, rather malapropian, with here and there a moment of
+forgetfulness, with its reversion to downright bad grammar. He turned
+back to Hanvey.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Billy Scanlan, alias Gentleman William, alias Flash Billy, alias Roger
+van Dorn, alias, a half dozen other things. He's done time in Joliet
+and Sing Sing. He's a good friend of mine." The faintest suggestion of
+a smile played about the corners of Jim's mouth. "An' he's why your
+crowd hired me to trail you out here."
+
+It was quite plain to Hanvey, but Corwin was puzzled.
+
+"I don't yet understand."
+
+"You don't? Gosh, son, there couldn't anything be any plainer! We ain't
+never discussed what brought you out here, but I know all about it just
+the same; an' since you prob'ly won't answer no questions, I'll tell
+you what I know. The Quincy-Scott gang started a drive recently to grab
+off the control of the K. R. & P. Railroad from McIntosh and his crowd.
+Before McIntosh woke up, the Quincy bunch had corralled every loose
+vote, enough to give them a control in the forthcomin' stockholders'
+meetin'. When McIntosh got wise he knew that his only hope was Colonel
+Warrington out here in Los Angeles, the colonel ownin' about ninety
+thousand shares of common stock. So he telephoned the old bird and
+found out that he wasn't interested in the fight one way or the other;
+that he'd already been approached by the Quincy-Scott combination an'
+had turned 'em down cold an' final, which seemed to indicate that
+with a little proper persuasion he'd be willin' to deliver a proxy to
+McIntosh. It bein' 'most time for the meetin', an' things bein' pretty
+desperate, they sent you out to get the proxy from the ol' gent, his
+proxy gettin' there meanin' victory for McIntosh, an' its failure
+leavin' the vote control with Quincy an' Scott. Ain't it so?"
+
+Corwin was staring at Hanvey in amazement. The pudgy detective had
+been speaking disinterestedly, casually, but he had the most intimate
+facts at his finger-tips. Corwin nodded before he thought, then bit his
+tongue.
+
+"I'm not at liberty to say whether or not you're correct, Mr. Hanvey."
+
+"Sure you ain't. You're dead right, son. Don't you never spill no beans
+to nobody no time. I wasn't tryin' to pump you. I got the dope straight
+from headquarters. I was just tellin' you so you'd understand that I
+know why I was sent out with you, an' so you'd understand too."
+
+Hanvey paused, and as though that ended the matter he extracted from an
+elaborately engraved and sadly tarnished silver-plated cigar case two
+huge black invincibles, one of which he reluctantly extended to his
+companion. Corwin declined, and Jim sighed relievedly as he tenderly
+returned the cigar to its place. He lighted the other, inhaled with
+gusto and blew a cloud of the smoke into the air.
+
+"I still don't understand, Mr. Hanvey."
+
+Jim jerked his head toward Scanlan. "Billy's been sent out by the
+Quincy gang. His job is to keep that proxy from getting to New York in
+time for the stockholders' meeting."
+
+"O-o-oh!"
+
+Corwin's jaw hardened, his sinewy frame tensed and a fighting light
+blazed in his fine, level eyes.
+
+Jim grinned.
+
+"They ain't gonna try no rough stuff. That ain't Bill Scanlan's way of
+workin'. He's one of the smoothest con men in the known world, but he
+ain't rough--not Billy. He's smooth as butter."
+
+"Then how----"
+
+"Easy enough, son. He'll be on the same train that carries us back
+east, an' before we get to Chicago he'll swipe that proxy. At least
+that's what he's figurin' he's goin' to do."
+
+Matters were clarifying slightly in the brain of young Corwin. But his
+curiosity was still unsatisfied.
+
+"If I may ask, Mr. Hanvey, how do you know that he is the Quincy-Scott
+agent?"
+
+Jim shrugged his fat shoulders.
+
+"Easy enough. Y'see, it's this way: When the good Lord manufactured
+me he forgot to hand me out any good looks an' he slipped me entirely
+too much figger. But he didn't find that out until too late, so what he
+did to make up for it was to give me a mem'ry. I've got a mem'ry like
+a cam'ra, son. I just naturally don't forget things, an' I've sort of
+built up the rep of knowin' more professional crooks than any other
+ten men put together. McIntosh knew that the other crowd would engage
+a professional crook to get the proxy away from you, it not bein' no
+job for an amachoor. He was sure to foller you out here, an' the way he
+was plannin' to work was to scrape an acquaintance with you, you never
+suspectin' nothin', which would have made things pretty easy for Billy.
+I just trailed along to sort of point out to you the feller you wasn't
+safe with, an' Billy Scanlan is him."
+
+Gerald Corwin felt a fresh respect for the fat man with the bovine
+expression, and a bit of his resentment vanished at the same time, for
+he now understood one or two things which before had left him wholly
+puzzled and more than a trifle resentful.
+
+They finished their meal in silence. The check paid, they rose and
+started from the dining room, but Hanvey took Corwin's arm.
+
+"C'mon over an' lemme introduce you to Billy. It'll sort of make things
+easier for him, bein' introduced formal-like, an' the poor feller's got
+a tough-enough job on his hands as it is."
+
+Startled but obedient, Corwin followed, and he saw the expression of
+incredulous amazement, not untinged with apprehension, which flashed
+into Scanlan's face as they paused by his table.
+
+"Hello, Billy!"
+
+Scanlan rose slowly. His jaw was set and it was plain that he was
+struggling to orient himself to this bizarre situation. He strove to
+make his tone casual.
+
+"Hello, Jim!"
+
+Hanvey was exceedingly gracious.
+
+"Lemme introduce my friend Mr. Corwin. Mr. Corwin is the feller you
+was sent out here to watch, Billy. Mr. Corwin, shake hands with Mr.
+Scanlan."
+
+Awkwardly the two men--one an innate gentleman and the other a student
+at the school of gentility--shook hands. Corwin was a trifle sorry for
+Scanlan. The man seemed afraid of Jim Hanvey.
+
+"I'm pleased to meet Mr. Corwin."
+
+"Sure you are." The voice of Hanvey chimed in genially. "Didn't you
+come all the way from New York just for that? An' wasn't you wonderin'
+how you was gonna work it? That's me--always ready to help out a
+friend, Billy--so I up an' introduces you fellers."
+
+"It's real kind of you, Jim"--Scanlan was choosing his words with
+scrupulous care--"but I don't quite--er--comprehend what you're driving
+at."
+
+"No?" Hanvey's bushy eyebrows arched in surprise. "I'd sure hate to
+think that you wasn't tellin' me the truth, Billy."
+
+"I really don't understand your--a--innuendoes. I'm in Los Angeles on
+a vacation and without no definite objective."
+
+"Sure, Billy, sure! I know that. You're a gent of leisure, you are. But
+if you could grab off that fat wad the Quincy-Scott people hung under
+your nose, you wouldn't have no objections, would you?"
+
+Scanlan's hand dropped on Hanvey's shoulder and he gazed earnestly into
+the eyes of the detective, Corwin for the moment forgotten.
+
+"Honest, Jim, I'm runnin' straight. I ain't plannin' a thing. So leave
+me be, won't you?"
+
+"I ain't aimin' to bother you none, Billy. Goodness knows, you're too
+much of a gent to be in jail. Only it just struck me that I was doin'
+you a favor by introducin' you to Mr. Corwin, him an' you both bein'
+genuine swells an' li'ble to have a heap in common."
+
+Suddenly reawakened to consciousness of Corwin's presence, Scanlan
+pulled himself together.
+
+"Mr. Hanvey is bound to have his little joke, Mr. Corwin. A very
+interesting chap, isn't he?"
+
+Corwin inclined his head gravely.
+
+"Very."
+
+Hanvey regarded them amusedly.
+
+"You fellers like each other?"
+
+They nodded.
+
+"That's fine! I'm sure glad!" He turned away, then swung back suddenly.
+"By the way, Billy, we're leaving on the California Limited Friday
+morning, ten o'clock. We've got Drawin'-room A in Car S-17. I'm
+tellin' you so you can get your reservations early on that train.
+Eastern travel is awful thick these days."
+
+They parted from the bewildered Scanlan. In the sanctuary of Hanvey's
+room Gerald Corwin voiced his displeasure.
+
+"You are probably a very great detective, Mr. Hanvey----"
+
+"Naw! Not me! I'm just a fat, lucky bum."
+
+"But it strikes me that you volunteered some valuable information
+unnecessarily."
+
+"To Billy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"About our reservations east. Why did you tell him the correct day?"
+
+"I never lie to a crook," said Jim gravely. "It ain't fair. Besides, if
+they're good enough crooks to be worth lyin' to a feller ain't gonna
+get away with it. Billy will check up, an' once he found I'd lied to
+him he'd lose all confidence in me."
+
+"But I don't see what difference it makes."
+
+"That's 'cause you're a business man, son. Detectives an' crooks know
+the value of tellin' the truth."
+
+"You didn't have to tell him who I was."
+
+"No-o, that's true. But it saved him a heap of trouble."
+
+"I don't understand your desire to save him trouble."
+
+"It's this way, Mr. Corwin: The less trouble Billy has to take the more
+time he'll have for thinkin', an' the more he thinks the worse off
+he is. Thinkin', son, has ruined a heap of happy homes, an' don't you
+forget it."
+
+Hanvey was right. At that moment Billy Scanlan was slumped in a chair
+in the hotel lobby, smoking cigarette after cigarette and wondering
+what it all meant. He knew Jim Hanvey of old, was familiar with
+the working methods of the ponderous, slow-moving, quick-thinking
+detective; and he knew that Jim had told the truth. Of course he'd
+check up, but that was a mere formality. All the more prominent
+criminals knew that Jim Hanvey did not lie. That was one explanation of
+the high esteem in which they held him--because he played fair.
+
+Scanlan was worried. He had been intrusted with a definite mission,
+one well suited to his peculiar talents. His job was to secure from
+Gerald Corwin the proxy which Corwin was to receive from Col. Robert
+E. Warrington and to deliver that proxy to the men who were fighting
+to wrest control of the K. R. & P. from the McIntosh interests.
+That was all. The sky was the limit so far as he was concerned. His
+professional reputation was at stake. Besides, the reward offered by
+the Quincy-Scott crowd was stupendous, and Billy was sadly in need of
+ready cash--and plenty of it.
+
+The presence of Jim Hanvey complicated matters somewhat in the way of
+accomplishing a task already difficult and delicate. But Billy was
+game and not entirely averse to matching wits with the gargantuan
+detective. So he waited patiently in the lobby, watching the elevator
+bank, and eventually he was rewarded when Gerald Corwin descended,
+walked swiftly to the street and hailed a taxi.
+
+As he drove off, Scanlan stepped into another cab.
+
+"Follow that cab ahead. Keep about a block in the rear. When he stops
+you stop."
+
+As Scanlan drove off, he glanced over his shoulder in time to see the
+ungainly figure of Jim Hanvey climb laboriously into yet a third taxi.
+He did not quite fathom Jim's motive in following, but he didn't care
+particularly. He knew that Jim knew he'd trail Corwin. So much for that.
+
+Corwin's taxi driver, evidently aware that his fare was unfamiliar
+with the vastness of Los Angeles, selected a circuitous route to the
+Wilshire Boulevard address of Colonel Warrington. He drove through the
+traffic to Pico and via that important thoroughfare to Western Avenue,
+swinging across then to the fashionable Wilshire section, a tremendous
+area of spotlessly white homes, immaculate lawns, stiff and artificial
+gardening and aggressive affluence. Before the gates of a huge home,
+the grounds of which occupied an entire block, Corwin's taxi stopped.
+Gerald retained his man and entered the Warrington mansion. A block
+farther down Wilshire Boulevard Scanlan's taxi halted, and a half block
+behind that Jim Hanvey left his taxi.
+
+Jim, alone of the three, dismissed his driver. And then, slowly and
+purposefully, puffing on a cigar, Jim waddled up the street toward
+Scanlan's automobile.
+
+"'Lo, Billy!"
+
+"Hello, Jim!"
+
+"Have a good ride?"
+
+"Pretty good."
+
+"Just wanted to let you know I follered you, Billy. All I done it for
+was to make sure you was watchin' young Corwin yonder. I'll be trottin'
+back to town now." He addressed Scanlan's driver: "Which street car do
+I take to get back to town?"
+
+The driver vouchsafed the desired information. Scanlan could not
+forbear a question:
+
+"Where's your taxi, Jim?"
+
+"I let it go. Taxis are terribly expensive." And Hanvey moved heavily
+away.
+
+Scanlan's vigil continued for more than an hour. Then through the gates
+of the Warrington home swung a limousine. It stopped briefly while
+Corwin alighted, paid his taxi and then returned to the big car. The
+route into the city was more direct this time, and Scanlan followed
+Corwin and Colonel Warrington into one of the larger Broadway office
+buildings. He saw them enter the offices of a law firm and knew that
+Corwin had won the first move of the game by persuading Warrington to
+issue his proxy in favor of the McIntosh interests.
+
+From his vantage point in the marbled hallway Scanlan kept watch.
+Eventually he saw a young man emerge from the offices of the firm of
+lawyers and enter a smaller office down the hall which was marked
+"Real Estate & Insurance. Notary Public." A second young man returned
+with the first and in his hand was a small notarial seal. It was
+obvious to Scanlan that if there was a notary in the law firm he was
+out at the moment. Alone again, Scanlan ascertained the name of the
+notary--Leopold Jones.
+
+When Warrington and Corwin descended in an elevator a few minutes
+later Scanlan did not follow. Instead he produced from his pocket an
+income-tax blank and went with it to the office of Leopold Jones. Of
+that young gentleman he requested an attestation of his income-tax
+return. Mr. Jones found Mr. Scanlan an engaging talker and they chatted
+for several minutes. When Mr. Scanlan eventually departed Mr. Jones was
+happily unaware of the fact that in Mr. Scanlan's coat pocket reposed
+his, Mr. Jones', notarial seal.
+
+From the office building Scanlan visited the city ticket office of the
+Santa Fe Railroad. He learned readily enough that Drawing-room A in
+Car S-17, California Limited, for Friday morning had been sold the day
+previous to a very fat gentleman. He bought Compartment C in the same
+car. He returned to the hotel.
+
+Thus far things appeared propitious for Mr. Scanlan.
+
+Jim was a hindrance, of course, and a grave one; but Scanlan operated
+on the theory that no vigilance is so keen that it cannot be eluded.
+There remained nothing now save the trip east. At some time between the
+departure from Los Angeles and the arrival in Chicago it was incumbent
+upon Mr. Scanlan to secure from Corwin the Warrington proxy.
+
+That night--Wednesday--the three men dined together, Corwin's distaste
+swallowed up by his keening interest in the peculiar friendship
+existing between Hanvey and Scanlan. Corwin had always held the idea
+that criminals and detectives clashed on sight; that the former were
+habitually in flight and the latter constantly in pursuit. To see
+them chatting amiably about topics in general, reminiscing over past
+escapades of Scanlan and exploits of other criminals and swapping
+theories on unsolved crimes was astounding. Corwin found it hard to
+reconcile himself to the fact that at the moment the portly detective
+and the would-be-gentleman crook were engaged in a battle of wits. He
+later discussed the matter with Hanvey.
+
+"Why don't you arrest Scanlan?"
+
+"Arrest him? He ain't done nothin'."
+
+"He's planning to."
+
+"You can't arrest a man for what he's got in his head. If you could the
+jails'd be overflowin'."
+
+"You could arrest him for that McCarthy affair I heard him telling you
+about. He confesses he was involved in the swindle."
+
+"Aw, you know I wouldn't touch him for that! He just passed that dope
+on as a friend."
+
+"But I didn't know that policemen and criminals were friends."
+
+Hanvey smiled wistfully.
+
+"'Bout the only friends I got in this world, son, are crooks. Most of
+them are servin' time. Some of 'em I put there. But we're friends. This
+here solid-gold watch charm--that was given me by one of the niftiest
+con men in the world. I sure hated to send him up."
+
+They checked out of the hotel Friday morning. Billy Scanlan was at
+the station when they arrived. The heavy train rumbled under the shed
+and they settled themselves for the three-day journey to Chicago. At
+Hanvey's invitation Scanlan joined them in the drawing-room and they
+became absorbed in a game of setback at half a cent a point.
+
+Hanvey and Scanlan waxed violently enthusiastic over the game----"King
+for high." "Trey low?" "Well, dog-gone your ornery hide----" "You're a
+rotten setback player, Mr. Corwin; y'oughta learn somethin' 'bout the
+fine points of the game."
+
+Nothing to indicate that a crisis was approaching, no outward
+manifestation of the drama which was imminent. Occasionally Corwin
+reassured himself by touching his coat, in the lining of which was
+sewed the envelope containing the proxy which controlled a railroad.
+Once Hanvey saw the gesture and he laughed.
+
+"It's safe all right, son. It'll stay safe unless you lose your coat."
+
+Corwin flushed angrily. Hanvey rightly interpreted his anger and
+extended a fat and reassuring hand.
+
+"I wasn't giving no dope away. Billy knew where you had the proxy,
+didn't you, Billy?"
+
+Scanlan nodded.
+
+"Sure! It's the regular place."
+
+Both men--detective and criminal--were vastly amused by Corwin's
+obviousness, and Corwin knew it. But he didn't care. Perhaps the lining
+of a coat was the regular place to keep a valuable document; certainly
+it was a safe one; and Hanvey might have been more careful than to
+remove the last vestige of doubt from Scanlan's mind. Corwin knew that
+Scanlan could not possibly get the proxy. Such a thing was impossible
+during the day, and at night Corwin planned to use the coat as a pillow.
+
+Following a light breakfast the next morning, Corwin made his way
+forward to the club car for a shave. He removed coat, collar and tie,
+for the moment unmindful of Scanlan. When the hot towel was removed
+from his face and fresh lather applied he noticed Scanlan sitting with
+two other men, awaiting his turn for a shave. Next to Scanlan was Jim
+Hanvey. Corwin sighed relievedly.
+
+The barber shaved the right side of Corwin's face, then turned him in
+the chair to get at the other side. As he did so Scanlan cast a glance
+of simulated impatience at the waiting men, rose, donned coat and hat
+and left the club car.
+
+But the coat which Scanlan wore on leaving the car was Corwin's!
+
+In five minutes' time he returned. Corwin was just emerging from the
+chair. Hanvey was slumped in a corner immersed in the very-female
+pictures of a weekly periodical. Scanlan removed Corwin's coat and
+extended it to that young gentleman.
+
+"Took your coat by accident, Mr. Corwin. Just discovered my mistake."
+
+Corwin's face blanched. He grabbed the coat and touched the spot where
+the proxy had been. For a single wild instant Corwin contemplated
+bodily assault, and only the hulking figure of Jim Hanvey and his slow,
+drawling voice prevented.
+
+"What's the matter, son? What's the matter? You look all het up."
+
+"This thief----"
+
+"Whoa, son, whoa! That ain't no kind of a name to call a crook."
+
+Corwin whirled on Hanvey.
+
+"You don't know what you're talking about! This man has that proxy! He
+just stole it from me!"
+
+Jim was unperturbed. He turned mildly reproving eyes upon the amused
+countenance of his friend.
+
+"You didn't go an' do that, did you, Billy?"
+
+Scanlan grinned.
+
+"Mr. Corwin seems to think so."
+
+"Well, I'll be dog-goned! Let's git together an' kinder talk things
+over."
+
+Back through the swaying, grinding cars went the procession, Scanlan
+leading, Hanvey next and Corwin bringing up the rear. Corwin was in
+a cold fury. He felt that he was being made ridiculous--they were
+laughing at him. He didn't like the looks of the whole business anyway.
+What assurance had he that Hanvey and Scanlan were not confederates?
+They were suspiciously intimate, and Hanvey must have seen
+Scanlan----In the privacy of their drawing-room Corwin's sinewy figure
+towered over Scanlan.
+
+"If you don't give me back that proxy I'll break every bone in your
+rotten body."
+
+Jim restrained the young man.
+
+"Them's awful harsh words, Jack Dalton."
+
+Corwin shook him off.
+
+"I think you're as crooked as he is. I've had my suspicions from the
+first, and I'm not going to allow any pair like you to make a monkey of
+me."
+
+It was Scanlan who spoke.
+
+"Just what are you going to do about it, Mr. Corwin?"
+
+"I'll do a-plenty!"
+
+"Giving me a licking isn't going to get you anywhere except in jail.
+We're in New Mexico now; and if you lay a finger on me I'll have you
+dumped in the Albuquerque lockup to-night; and you can't do the same to
+me, because you haven't got a lick of proof."
+
+"Will you let us search you and your compartment?"
+
+"Surest thing you know!" He turned to the detective. "C'mon, Jim. Get
+busy."
+
+Hanvey shrugged and reached for one of his black cigars.
+
+"Ain't gonna waste my time, Billy. If you've got that proxy there ain't
+no use of my searchin' for it now. I've just got to think things over
+and get a hunch where you put it. Then I'll get it."
+
+"Do you mean," interrogated Corwin furiously, "that you're not even
+going to search this man?"
+
+"I do. I mean just that exact thing, son."
+
+"Well, I will!"
+
+Scanlan meekly submitted to the search. Once as Corwin's trembling,
+clumsy fingers probed into a pocket he deliberately winked at Hanvey,
+and at the conclusion of the personal search Scanlan led the way to his
+compartment. Twenty minutes later Corwin, dispirited and dully angry,
+returned to the drawing-room, where he found Hanvey gazing stolidly out
+of the window. The detective spoke without turning his head.
+
+"When you git peeved, son, you sure git peeved all over."
+
+The younger man did not answer. He slouched opposite and tried to
+think, to piece together the ends of this tangled skein. He was
+distrustful of every one, particularly of the slothful Hanvey. Jim's
+only other remark did not add to his comfort.
+
+"You sure was careless with that coat, Mr. Corwin--awful careless."
+
+Hanvey was right. He had been careless, inexcusably so. True, there had
+been a feeling of safety in the knowledge that Hanvey was also in the
+barber shop; but there was small solace in the thought that it wasn't
+entirely his fault that too great confidence had been placed by his
+employer in Hanvey's ability. And now, should Hanvey fail to recover
+the proxy, he--Corwin--was ruined, a brilliant career abruptly and
+ignominiously terminated.
+
+Meanwhile, in Compartment C, behind a locked door, Scanlan was busy.
+He obtained a table from the porter and then proceeded to open his
+suitcase, to unpack it, to remove a false bottom and extract from the
+space disclosed a sheaf of legal-appearing documents. Each of these was
+strikingly similar to the proxy which lay beside them on the table.
+
+Then slowly and painstakingly Scanlan prepared a duplicate proxy,
+being very careful that his forging of Colonel Warrington's name
+should be patently a forgery. The finished job was a masterpiece. No
+one unfamiliar with Warrington's signature could guess that this was
+not genuine, yet a comparison left no room for doubt that Scanlan's
+work was a forgery. Carefully he inscribed the attestation, affixing
+thereto the impress of the notarial seal he had stolen from the
+office of Mr. Leopold Jones. That done, he viewed his handiwork with
+pardonable pride. He next destroyed the other blank proxies which had
+been prepared by the Quincy-Scott crowd in New York, placed the forged
+proxy in the false bottom of his suitcase and put the genuine proxy in
+an outside pocket of his coat.
+
+At lunch time Scanlan found Hanvey sitting alone at one end of the
+diner while Corwin sulked at the other. The crook paused by the
+detective's table and cheerfully accepted Hanvey's invitation to join.
+Jim nodded toward the tragic figure at the other end of the car.
+
+"You sure have played tarnation thunder with that kid, Billy."
+
+Scanlan shook his head. Naturally tender-hearted, he was genuinely
+regretful.
+
+"Business is business, Jim."
+
+"Yep, so it is. Kinda tough on the kid, though. He feels bad, knowin'
+he played right into your hands. An' I ain't feelin' any too spry
+myself." The detective's dull eyes turned toward his companion and
+blinked slowly. "Where have you got that proxy, Billy?"
+
+Scanlan laughed.
+
+"I haven't admitted that I have it."
+
+"No-o. An' I didn't ask you to admit nothin'. The point bein' that you
+can't get away with it, kid. I'll have you held when we get to Chicago
+and search you--a search that is a search."
+
+Scanlan registered apprehension.
+
+"That ain't fair, Jim. You ain't got a lick of proof that I have the
+proxy."
+
+"Nope. But I intend to get it."
+
+From the diner Scanlan went back to the observation platform to think
+things over. He did not relish the prospect of an additional thirty-six
+hours on the same car with Hanvey. He contemplated dropping off at
+Albuquerque, then thought better of it. Jim would merely remain with
+him. And then an idea came.
+
+At eight o'clock the train pulled into the handsome station at the
+capital of New Mexico for a one-hour layover. Scanlan walked swiftly up
+the street toward the post office. There he prevailed upon a registry
+clerk to accept a letter. In a long envelope he inclosed a note to
+Phares Scott and with it the proxy he had that day stolen from Gerald
+Corwin. He sent the document both special delivery and registered. It
+would get to New York a day or two late, perhaps, but still in ample
+time for the meeting. Besides, it was not essential that it get there
+at all. It was only necessary that the McIntosh forces be deprived of
+its possession.
+
+Scanlan would have destroyed the thing in preference, but he knew that
+he would have difficulty in collecting his fee unless the document
+itself was produced.
+
+But even though Billy Scanlan had left the train at Albuquerque, Hanvey
+and Corwin had not. Hanvey, making quite sure that Scanlan had gone,
+entered Scanlan's compartment in Corwin's company. The manner of the
+big detective had momentarily lost its sluggishness. He questioned
+Corwin.
+
+"Where'd you search?"
+
+Corwin told him. Jim shook his massive head.
+
+"How 'bout his suitcase?"
+
+"I looked in there, of course."
+
+"Sure--of course you did, son. Naturally. But let us try it again."
+
+Jim dumped the contents unceremoniously on the seat. With deft fingers
+he went through every garment and even inspected the contents of the
+rolled traveling case.
+
+"You see," commented Corwin resentfully. "I told you nothing was there."
+
+Hanvey paid him no heed. He had closed the suitcase and was inspecting
+it carefully. Then suddenly he turned it over and thumped it with a
+heavy, spatulate finger. His pursy lips creased into a smile.
+
+"Think we got somethin', son."
+
+"What?"
+
+"We'll see."
+
+The suitcase was reopened and Hanvey fumbled inside for a moment. Then
+a button unfastened here and one there and he removed the false bottom.
+He extended the envelope to Corwin.
+
+"Better see that he don't get another chance at it, son."
+
+With fingers that trembled the younger man spread open the forged
+proxy, never questioning its genuineness. There it was--Warrington's
+signature, Jones' attestation, the notarial seal. Corwin seized Jim's
+hand and wrung it gratefully. His voice was choky.
+
+"I've been a rotter, Mr. Hanvey. I suspected you of being a
+confederate----"
+
+"'Sall right, Mr. Corwin. 'Sall right. Don't slop over."
+
+"I can't help it. I feel like a cur."
+
+"Gwan!" Hanvey was touched by the boyish gratitude of his young friend.
+"Let's get this stuff back in here. Scanlan'll spot that we have the
+thing, but it wouldn't be decent to leave his stuff all spread out like
+this."
+
+Ten minutes before leaving time Scanlan returned to his compartment.
+He opened his suitcase, discerned the disorder--and grinned. Then,
+pretending disappointment and fury, he rapped on the door of
+Drawing-room A. Inside he faced Corwin.
+
+"You wanted to start something a little while ago, Mr. Corwin," he
+snapped, "when you thought I copped a paper from your coat. Well, I'm
+here to say that whenever you're ready you just wade right in, because,
+no matter what I've done, I never robbed a gent's suitcase."
+
+A hard, chill smile appeared on Corwin's lips. He rose slowly. From the
+window seat Hanvey viewed the tableau amusedly.
+
+"Get out!" ordered Corwin.
+
+"Put me out!"
+
+"Get out or I shall!"
+
+Scanlan's eyes met those of the other man, and Scanlan discreetly
+withdrew.
+
+But that night Scanlan lay in his berth, smoking and smiling. Success
+had blessed his strategy. The Warrington proxy was en route to New York
+by registered mail, the envelope specifically marked "For Delivery to
+Addressee Only." Better still, Jim Hanvey thought he had recovered the
+document. There was the strongest point in Scanlan's favor--the fact
+that Jim was smugly contented. Now all he had to do was to assume the
+attitude of a man thwarted. He was a trifle sorry for poor old Jim,
+yet it was no lack of acumen on Jim's part, but rather a superlative
+cunning on his own.
+
+During the final twenty-four hours of the journey to Chicago, Gerald
+Corwin clung to the supposed proxy with a pitiful grimness. Alone with
+Hanvey in their drawing-room, he sat with his hand against the pocket
+of his coat. He shaved himself. He slept with the coat for a pillow.
+
+"He got it once," he explained to Hanvey. "He won't again."
+
+Jim smiled.
+
+"Once ought to be enough for any man."
+
+"What made you think of a false bottom to that suitcase, Mr. Hanvey?"
+
+"Same thing that made Billy think of the lining of your coat. Plumb
+obvious. Gosh! I'll bet Billy's ravin'."
+
+Corwin was frankly admiring.
+
+"And I thought you were no good! I even thought you might be
+double-crossing McIntosh!"
+
+"That's right, son; that's right. Never trust nobody an' you'll never
+get a shock. That's my motto. The honester a person is supposed to be
+the easier he can crook you."
+
+They reached Chicago at noon of the following day. Hanvey and Corwin
+boarded the Pennsylvania for New York. Scanlan secured a berth on
+the New York Central. Freed from the Scanlan menace, Corwin thawed
+slightly and attempted to make late amends to his benefactor. He even
+summoned sufficient courage to request a closer inspection of Jim's
+gold toothpick and to say complimentary things about the fearful weapon
+which had been anathema to him. Jim bloomed under the praise of his
+decoration.
+
+"Feller that gave me that had sense," he said earnestly. "It ain't only
+beautiful--it's useful."
+
+Corwin repressed a shudder.
+
+"I suppose it is."
+
+The gratitude of the younger man was pathetic. He grimly determined to
+invite Jim to dinner some night--the ultimate test of his fortitude.
+
+They reached New York on time and repaired immediately to the offices
+of the K. R. & P. There Gerald Corwin delivered over to Garet McIntosh
+the Warrington proxy. McIntosh congratulated the young man and assured
+him of the directors' appreciation. But before leaving the room Corwin
+made a straight-eyed confession.
+
+"You must thank Mr. Hanvey," he said. "The proxy was stolen from me on
+the train and Mr. Hanvey recovered it."
+
+"Good!" McIntosh dismissed Corwin with a nod and reached for his
+notebook. "How about it, Hanvey?"
+
+Jim grinned. "Don't listen to nothin' the kid says, Mr. McIntosh. He's
+game all through, that lad. But it was funny."
+
+At that moment Billy Scanlan faced Phares Scott and gave a detailed
+report of the success of his mission. A gleam of admiration appeared in
+the steely eyes of the financier.
+
+"Good work!" he commented briefly. "You'll get your pay when the proxy
+arrives."
+
+The following day at noon, Scanlan presented himself at Scott's office.
+His reward was paid in legal tender----"To avoid the embarrassment of a
+check." Scanlan nodded and pocketed the money.
+
+"The proxy?" he questioned.
+
+"We've destroyed it. Simply wanted to look it over to make sure we were
+safe."
+
+That night Billy Scanlan celebrated. The following morning he awakened
+with a violent headache, and was aroused by a ringing of his telephone.
+
+"Jim Hanvey," announced the slow, drawling voice on the other end. "Can
+I come up?"
+
+Jim came. He regarded Scanlan interestedly.
+
+"I judge they paid you off all right," he commented.
+
+"They did," admitted Scanlan. "What about it?"
+
+"Nothin'; nothin' in particular." Hanvey glanced at his watch, a
+tremendous affair, gaudily engraved. "Only that the stockholders'
+meetin' takes place in just about one hour, an' as a friend I advise
+you to beat it an' beat it quick."
+
+Scanlan sat upright, hands pressed against his throbbing forehead.
+
+"Me beat it?"
+
+"Uh-huh."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Takin' pay from the Quincy-Scott crowd for somethin' you didn't do.
+They're li'ble to get awful sore."
+
+"What are you talking about, Jim? You know good and well I got away
+with it."
+
+Hanvey shook his head. "Nothin' of the kind, Billy; an' I'm advisin'
+you as a friend to beat it--an' stay put."
+
+The eyes of the other man narrowed.
+
+"You must be gettin' into your second childhood, Jim. Do you mean to
+tell me that you haven't yet found out that the proxy you stole from my
+suitcase was a fake?"
+
+Hanvey's voice was quite matter of fact.
+
+"Oh, that? Sure, I knew all the time that was a fake."
+
+"Well, then----"
+
+"What you ain't never stopped to realize," explained the detective, "is
+this: The proxy you swiped from young Corwin wasn't no good either."
+
+Scanlan rose abruptly.
+
+"What do you mean--no good? Old man Warrington executed it----"
+
+"Sure he did! An' the next day he executed another to McIntosh. That
+second one was the only one worth the paper it was written on. It
+nullified the first, an' I had it in my pocket all the time. An' when
+that real proxy appears at the meetin' to-day the gang you were workin'
+for is li'ble to get all het up. You see, Billy, you and Corwin both
+had the wrong dope. I wasn't on that train to keep you from gettin'
+that proxy off Corwin; I was there to see you did get it so you
+wouldn't bother me none, me bein' the real messenger."
+
+Headache forgotten, Billy Scanlan leaped for his suitcase and commenced
+a frenzy of packing.
+
+"I might've known you were too easy, Jim! I might've known it! Anyway,
+they paid me off yesterday----"
+
+"That's what tickles me," replied Jim; "you gittin' paid for that
+proxy. It's a swell joke on them fellers. An' say, I got somethin' to
+show you. You know young Corwin was awful grateful for what I done."
+
+"He should have been."
+
+"He was. He sent me a present this morning. Ain't it swell?"
+
+And beaming with pride Hanvey exhibited the gift of the fastidious
+Gerald Corwin.
+
+It was a gold-handled toothbrush.
+
+
+
+
+                         HELEN OF TROY, N. Y.
+
+
+The first summer blast of a Southern spring-time failed to inspire Jim
+Hanvey to hallelujahs. The mammoth detective lounged uncomfortably in
+his tiny apartment, cursing the unkind fates which had first been too
+liberal in their apportionment of avoirdupois and then caused him to be
+temporarily located in that section of the country where the intense
+heat makes for healthy cotton and lethargic humanity.
+
+Southern spring is a season of constant doubt and surprise. One goes
+to bed innocent of sheets and arises shiveringly at three in the
+morning to resurrect blankets from a moth-ball depository. Overcoats
+are one day in order, and on the next palm-beach suits are inspected
+longingly. On Wednesday the fresh young leaves will struggle against
+the near-frost of the previous night, and on Thursday wilt before the
+ravages of unseasonable heat. Winter does not merge gently into summer.
+The thermometer fluctuates uncertainly like a woman torn between the
+competitive allure of two bargain counters.
+
+To-day it was hot, genuinely and unreservedly hot, and Jim's physique
+had never been intended to withstand heat. He slumped miserably in a
+wicker chair, puffing disconsolately upon a cigar and staring with
+fixed distaste at the weather forecast: "Clear. Continued warm."
+
+A profound sigh escaped from the recesses of Jim Hanvey. "O death,
+where is thy heat?"
+
+Jim was capable of intense feeling, and this day that capability was
+working overtime. He was utterly and supremely unhappy both as to the
+present and in contemplation of the future. If this was April, what,
+then, would July be?
+
+He scarcely heard the clangor of his telephone, and only when that
+instrument had sent its raucous summons dinning into his ears for the
+third time did he conscript sufficient energy to hoist himself from the
+wicker chair. His voice was not at all friendly.
+
+"'Lo!"
+
+"Hello!" A queer, interested expression flitted over Jim's features.
+Woman's voice. Hmph! "Is that Mr. Hanvey?"
+
+"Almost."
+
+"This is a friend of yours, Jim."
+
+"Ain't got any friends to-day. Too hot."
+
+"I'm coming up."
+
+"That's fine. Apartment 4-B. Door's unlocked. Walk right in."
+
+"Good!"
+
+"And, say?"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Don't expect me to get up. When the mercury climbs this high I stay
+put."
+
+He recrossed the room and slumped down into his chair again; but no
+longer did his face reflect the misery of the flesh.
+
+His florid countenance was wrinkled speculatively. The voice of the
+woman had been vaguely familiar; memory probed inquisitively into the
+past. Jim shook his tremendous head from side to side.
+
+"She called me Jim an' said she was a friend of mine."
+
+Pudgy fingers toyed idly with the hawserlike watch chain connecting his
+timepiece and himself.
+
+The front door opened. Footsteps sounded from the hallway. All outward
+indication of interest fled from Jim's face leaving it as expressionful
+as the visage of a cow at milking time. Then the woman appeared in
+the doorway, and instantly Jim recognized her. The heartiness of his
+greeting was thoroughly sincere.
+
+"Helen of Troy." He smiled and added, "New York."
+
+The woman swept across the room and pressed a light kiss on the
+forehead of the detective.
+
+"Dear old Jim! It's good to see you again."
+
+"Yeh, ain't it? Lord! I'm hot." Jim's eyelids drooped with exasperating
+slowness over his fishy orbs, held shut for a moment, then opened
+again. "Step over yonder, Helen. Lemme give you the once-over."
+
+The woman obeyed, and Jim nodded approvingly.
+
+"Million dollars--plus, Helen. That's you."
+
+She was far from unattractive as she stood by the window. True, she was
+not of the general type which inspires the plaudits of a connoisseur;
+but for all practical purposes she was there seven ways from the ace.
+In the first place she was blond--magnificently and unyieldingly blond
+from the shrieking crown of gold upon her head to the tips of her long,
+slender, dead-white fingers. She was amply supplied with a figure which
+had been apportioned liberally and with an eye to ensemble rather than
+lissomeness. The effect was not to be denied: Floppy white panama with
+orchid trimmings; an elaborate street dress of white and orchid crêpe
+de chine; orchid stockings of chiffon, and white shoes. She pridefully
+submitted to his inspection and thrilled to his comment.
+
+Said he, "Once seen, never forgotten."
+
+"You think I'm looking well, Jim?"
+
+"Terrible good. Terrible." He mopped his forehead. "How do you stand
+this heat?"
+
+She laughed.
+
+"We've lived South ever since we were married. That's six years."
+
+"And three months," he amplified. "Ever since Johnny finished that last
+stretch. Me, I'd just as lief be in stir. Sit down. How's Johnny?"
+
+The woman's face clouded slightly.
+
+"It's about him I came to see you, Jim."
+
+"Much obliged to Johnny." He relighted his cigar. "What's he doin' now?
+Con?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"We've been straight ever since we hitched up. You ought to know that,
+Jim."
+
+"Ought to. Just thought maybe he was keepin' away from my line. I'm
+with the Bankers' Protective now, you know."
+
+"I know it; that's why I came to you."
+
+He stretched out.
+
+"Spill it, Helen. I'm all ears--all ears and perspiration, I mean."
+
+"You've always been a friend of ours, Jim. You play square. You sent
+Johnny up once, but he didn't hold that against you; it was all his
+fault for gettin' caught. And he made a regular killin' that time,
+Jim--you remember they never did get the stuff. Well, when he got out
+we decided to get married and go straight. Of course we didn't know how
+we'd like it, but we did think it was worth trying--understand?"
+
+"Sure! Novelty. Any time you didn't like it you could turn crooked
+again."
+
+"That's it. Well, I've liked it, an' so has Johnny. No dicks worryin'
+us, everything running smooth. It's been a real nice experience, Jim.
+I never would have believed there was so much fun in bein' honest. And
+after a while--well, it sort of gets to be a habit. Now I've come to
+the point where I wouldn't change for anything."
+
+She paused. He blinked with disconcerting slowness.
+
+"Well?"
+
+She leaned forward tensely.
+
+"Johnny's planning to pull a job!"
+
+"Huh?"
+
+"Johnny's planning to pull another job. He's got a chance for a neat
+killing, and he's going to try it."
+
+Jim's head rolled sorrowfully upon his fat shoulders.
+
+"That's too dog-goned bad! After runnin' straight this long!"
+
+"It is too bad, Jim. That's why I've come to you."
+
+"What's why?"
+
+"I want you to keep him straight. I know I can trust you, so I'm going
+to slip you the whole works, and I want you to steer him off. There
+ain't a bit of sense to his going crooked again. We've got all the
+money we need; but the thing looks so easy--you know how it is."
+
+"Uh-huh. I know. What you expect me to do?"
+
+"The job he's planning, Jim, is a bank job. That would bring you into
+it."
+
+Jim's lips drew into a protuberant circle and a low whistle escaped.
+
+"Bank job, eh? His old line. That's plumb silly."
+
+"I've told him so; told him a dozen times. But he says it's a cinch.
+Sure thing. Bah!"--bitterly. "It's a sure thing he wouldn't get away
+with it."
+
+"But he thinks he can."
+
+"That's it. I know just how he feels, Jim. I've felt that way myself
+a dozen times when I've seen some dame out at the race track wearing
+a million dollars' worth of sparklers. I'd remember how good I used
+to be at that sort of thing and my fingers would just naturally itch.
+It seemed a shame to pass it up. But"--righteously--"I've given
+temptation the go-by, Jim. I haven't pulled a job since I got hitched
+up to Johnny, though I've had chances enough. You always have when
+you're running straight. Sometimes I've felt like I'd give everything I
+had just for the sport of reducing the weight of some fat dame to the
+extent of a coupla carats. Well, the bug's got Johnny now. Things have
+played into his hands and he's rarin' to go. I told him you was down in
+this part of the country, but he only laughed. 'Reckon I can get away
+with this in spite of Jim Hanvey,' he said. The poor fish! You know
+good and well, Jim, there ain't any crook can buck you and get away
+with it, is there?"
+
+Jim grinned.
+
+"What you tryin' to do--vamp me?"
+
+"Lord forbid! It would be too much trouble for the result."
+
+"That sounds more like my frank friend. Now please continue to go on."
+
+"I'm going to give you a straight steer on this job of Johnny's. I
+want to leave it all in your hands. You ought to be able to head him
+off. I know I'm foolish to be so dead set on honesty and all that sort
+of romantic stuff, but I can't help it. Reckon I've been seeing too
+many movies or something." She leaned forward tensely, giving off an
+aroma of heavy and expensive perfumes, her fingers glittering with an
+imposing array of rings. "I want to stay straight, Jim--I sure do! And
+I want Johnny to do likewise."
+
+Jim reached for a fresh cigar and settled back comfortably in his chair.
+
+"You don't mind these, do you, Helen?"
+
+"We-e-ll, I haven't any right to kick when I'm asking you a favor."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+He snipped off the end of the cigar and lighted up with gusto.
+
+"Since Johnny turned straight he's been gambling," she explained.
+"No rough stuff, nor nothing like that. Of course I'm not claiming
+that he hasn't rung in the works once in a while when he's hooked a
+particularly easy mark or that maybe he hasn't managed to read the
+backs of a few cards; but that's all part of the profession. The point
+is he hasn't been crooked--understand?"
+
+"Sure! I get you."
+
+"Last two seasons he's been oralizing down in New Orleans--both tracks
+there: Fair Grounds and Jefferson Parish. Business has been pretty
+good, but nothing extra. New Orleans is a wise town on horses. They're
+the very devil on backing the favorites and that's awful tough on the
+bookies. Anyway racing has kinder got into Johnny's blood. He started
+off last year by buying a few cheap platers--called himself owning
+a stable. And finally he come into a two-year-old that is a colt.
+Lightning Bolt is the name. Y'oughter see that angel run!
+
+"Major Torrance clocked that baby one time in a workout and wanted
+him; wanted him bad. Johnny didn't hanker to let him go. They talked
+price, but nothing come of it. Everybody knew the old gent was nuts on
+Lightning Bolt and was gonna get him sooner or later--everybody except
+him. And just recently Johnny found out that the major had booked
+passage for Europe on the Homeric, sailing out of New York day after
+to-morrow--Thursday. Also that Torrance's stable was bein' shipped
+North for the New York season. And that's where Johnny fell."
+
+She paused, one white-shod foot tapping the floor. Jim sat in supine
+silence, apparently oblivious of her presence.
+
+"Yes," she continued tensely, "that's where Johnny took his tumble. He
+told the major he'd sell Lightning Bolt, provided the old geezer would
+buy all the rest of his stable--four other horses. The price for the
+bunch was eight thousand dollars. The deal went through. Those horses
+went North with the Torrance stable the other day when the season ended
+in New Orleans. Old man Torrance sails from New York in a couple of
+days. Of course you can prove up on all of this; the real point being
+that Johnny holds the major's check for eight thousand dollars."
+
+Her voice died away. Out of the silence which followed came Jim's
+drawling voice:
+
+"An' one little teeny letter added onto an eight makes an eighty."
+
+The luxurious blonde glanced sharply at the big man in the wicker
+chair, her eyes narrowing slightly.
+
+"What made you think----"
+
+"Two an' two always did make four, sister."
+
+Her fingers interlaced nervously.
+
+"That's the layout, Jim. He's planning to raise that check and make a
+get-away----" Her voice trailed off. "And that isn't all."
+
+"No?"
+
+Jim's query was a mere indication of interest rather than an effort to
+extract further information.
+
+"Not all, Jim. It's this way----" She hitched her chair closer and
+laid one ringed hand on Jim's knee. The ponderous man seemed unmindful
+of it--for a moment. Then he moved away. "Just before Johnny turned
+straight and married me he pulled one last big job. It was regular and
+all that. The poor sucker they caught was hog-tied; he didn't dare let
+out a yap. Johnny made a clean-up on it and with that amount added to
+what he had he retired with about a quarter of a million bucks." There
+was conscious pride in her final declaration: "Johnny never was a
+piker."
+
+"He sure wasn't, Helen. Great chap, Johnny."
+
+"That quarter of a million has been salted away in Liberty Bonds.
+Johnny bought 'em at about 84 and they're pretty near par now.
+He's dead stuck on 'em; says when they jumped in value it was the
+first honest money he ever made. He never would touch 'em. Kind of
+superstitious. But, Jim, he's planning to dig into 'em now."
+
+"Yeh?"
+
+"He's got a chance of opening a big gambling place down near Juarez.
+Things like that take cash--a wad of it. So Johnny is fixing to borrow
+on his Liberties."
+
+"Borrow?"
+
+"Yes. He's superstitious about them, like I told you, and he don't want
+to sell. He figures he can borrow two hundred thousand on the things.
+Then he's going to raise that Torrance check from eight thousand to
+eighty. That'll give him $280,000 in cash--more than enough for what he
+wants. He'll sink a heap of that into the business, and at the first
+opportunity he plans to come back, redeem his Liberties and salt 'em
+away again. Understand?"
+
+Hanvey was apparently not listening. He stared moodily through the
+window, lower jaw drooping, the ash on his cigar perilously lengthy.
+Finally he turned his glassy eyes upon her.
+
+"How c'n you look so cool when it's so durned hot?"
+
+She bit her lip.
+
+"Do you understand, Jim?"
+
+"Eh?" He blinked with interminable slowness. "Oh, about Johnny an' his
+gamblin' house an' the Liberty Bonds an' all that? Sure, that's easy.
+Johnny's just naturally plannin' to get wicked again, ain't he?"
+
+"And I don't want him to. There ain't anything in the world like being
+honest, Jim; I've found that out. It's the grandest feeling I've ever
+had. I wouldn't turn crooked again for anything in the world--unless
+we really needed the money. I don't want Johnny to. He's been out of
+the game so long he's liable to pull a boner and lose what he's got."
+
+"You sure spoke a mouthful then, sister. That's a downright crude stunt
+Johnny is figgerin' on pullin'. Of course, him plannin' to beat it into
+Mexico, anyway----"
+
+"I'd hate to live there. Never did like Mexican cooking--chili an' hot
+tamales and all that sort of thing. And the climate----"
+
+"Hotter'n this, ain't it?"
+
+She didn't answer. For a few moments silence held between them, tense
+silence punctured only by the ticking of the cheap alarm clock on the
+mantel and the bellowing of a group of boys playing in the street below.
+
+"You've got to help me, Jim--got to help me keep Johnny straight. He'll
+listen to you where he laughs at me."
+
+"Awful glad to do a little job like that, Helen. I'm real anxious
+Johnny shouldn't turn crooked again. He's got brains enough to make an
+honest livin'. Lemme see--when's he plannin' to pass this bum check?"
+
+"Two or three days. You see, Jim, he'll borrow the two hundred thousand
+on his bonds--borrow it from a local banking house--Starnes & Company.
+When he deposits their check for that amount he'll deposit along with
+it Major Torrance's check for eighty thousand; and the eighty-thousand
+one being so much smaller than the other, they won't pay a whole lot
+of attention to it. Then he'll check against the total sum. Ain't that
+clever?"
+
+"Awful!" He inhaled deeply. "Awful clever! A good check for two hundred
+thousand and a bum one for eighty, passed right through the bank. Then
+he checks against 'em. Johnny sure uses his head for somethin' more
+than a hatrack."
+
+She rose and threw a light scarf across her plump shoulders.
+
+"You promise to keep him straight, Jim? You promise?"
+
+"Sure! Sure I promise, Helen! Dog-gone this weather!"
+
+She made her adieus and swung down the street toward the city's largest
+hotel. One or two traveling men ogled her and she expanded to the
+pleased consciousness of the effect she was creating. It had always
+been thus, ever since her girlhood in Troy, New York. Blessed with
+voluptuous blondness, men had always flocked about her. Adulation had
+been all in all to her until the advent of Johnny Norton, and to him
+she capitulated utterly.
+
+Johnny had been an honest and efficient wooer. They teamed up and
+knocked about the country until he made his final big killing. Then
+they married and turned straight; but the strain of the past five years
+had been terrific.
+
+Helen rapped on the door of her room and Johnny opened it in person.
+He was a small man, slender and wiry and very much of a dandy in
+his lavender silk shirt, his white sport shoes and his aggressively
+checkered suit. He kissed her dutifully, then stepped back, twisting
+his near-mustache.
+
+Three other men lounged about the room. There was Slim Bolton, a card
+sharper, whose practice had been largely confined to transatlantic
+liners; Happy Gorman, who had attained fame--and a jail sentence--by
+means of an astoundingly clever oil-stock swindle; and Connie Hawes,
+one-time counterfeiter and generally expert flimflam artist. Their
+eyes were focused interestedly upon the Junoesque figure of the woman
+who stood with her back against the door, enjoying to the ultimate her
+calcium moment.
+
+"Well," she announced pridefully, "Jim Hanvey fell for it!"
+
+There was a moment of tense silence.
+
+At last, Johnny Norton pulling nervously at his mustache, voiced the
+question which was uppermost in the minds of all of them:
+
+"You sure?"
+
+"Positive! You know how it is, boys. Jim has got only one weakness
+and that's his heart. It's softer than mush. He fell for that
+going-straight stuff like a tabby for a fresh box of catnip. Honest, it
+was a shame to take the money."
+
+Johnny grinned.
+
+"He promised to keep me straight?"
+
+"Yeh. Reckon it was the first time poor old Jim was ever asked to do
+anything like that." Her face clouded. "I sort of hate to put it over
+on him this way. I'm awful strong for Jim."
+
+"So are all of us." It was Connie Hawes speaking. "But what could we do
+about it? It was a cinch we'd have trouble with Jim, so the best thing
+was to throw him off the track."
+
+Slim Bolton rose and walked to the window. He spoke without turning.
+
+"Reckon this stuff ain't exactly in my line," he commented; "but I
+never did understand the reason for wising Jim up. I'm not saying
+you fellows are wrong, but it looks to me like we are running an
+unnecessary chance."
+
+Johnny Norton made no attempt to conceal his contempt for the slender
+one.
+
+"If you had more than one brain in your head, Slim, they wouldn't have
+barred you from the steamships. The reason Jim had to know it was
+this: He's chief of the detective force of the Bankers' Protective
+Association. Bein' down in this part of the country, it was a dead
+cinch he'd be called in the minute anything irregular happened."
+
+"But nothing irregular----"
+
+"Nothing irregular me eye! I borrow two hundred thousand dollars on
+a quarter million dollars' worth of Liberty Bonds. The banking house
+sends 'em over to the bank by messenger for rediscount. You fellows
+bump the messenger and make a get-away with the bonds. Bond robbery
+from a banking house which is a member of the Bankers' Protective. Jim
+Hanvey is called in of course, and first thing he asks is where did
+they get the Liberty Bonds. And when they tell him that a gent named
+John Roden Norton borrowed the money he would be most likely to smell a
+mice; even two or three mices."
+
+"But when this happens----"
+
+"Pff! You fellows are gonna lay low. And Jim already knows all about
+my borrowing the two hundred thou. He even knows about the Juarez
+proposition, and at the very moment you fellows are grabbing off the
+bonds I'll be with Jim Hanvey. Get that? He not only is gonna be set
+easy on borrowing the coin, but he's also gonna be right with me when
+the fireworks are being shot. What's the result? I've got a clean slate
+with Jim. I even let him induce me not to raise Torrance's check--swell
+chance I'd have raisin' that bird's paper--and so Jim will be lovin'
+me real sweet and you guys will be beatin' it to the border with
+them quarter million dollars in bonds. You fellers will cash 'em in
+somewheres----"
+
+"How about the numbers? They ain't registered bonds, I know, but the
+minute that many are stolen the banking house will notify the B. P. A.
+to watch out----"
+
+Helen of Troy had been too long in the background. She didn't like
+it. All her life she had been accustomed to having men stare at her
+and hang upon her words, and so now she took the floor again and gave
+explanation to Slim Bolton, who had but recently been impressed into
+service as the necessary fifth member of the party.
+
+"I and Happy worked out that game," she explained. "Happy is awful keen
+on stocks and bonds and things like that, so he knew that we'd have to
+watch out for those numbers. So what we'll do is this: Johnny, here,
+has already made arrangements for the loan--told the banking house just
+what he wants the money for--and on Thursday he's to swap the bonds and
+his note for the cash. He's due to be on hand at eleven o'clock in the
+morning, but he ain't gonna be. He's gonna get there about half-past
+one, the banks in this burg closin' up at two o'clock. He'll hand over
+the bonds to the president of the banking house and that bird will
+check over the bond numbers with Johnny, Johnny having them written
+down formal-like on a piece of paper.
+
+"And here's the point, Slim: The numbers that Johnny reads out will be
+the numbers of the bonds all right, but the numbers he reads won't be
+the numbers that are written down on this slip of paper.
+
+"Minute he does that he's gonna ask the banker to give him the check
+quick so he can deposit before the bank closes, with the result that
+the banker will accept that list and will give Johnny's slip to the
+bookkeeper for entering in the journal. In other words, the numbers
+that they'll enter up won't be the numbers of the bonds at all, and
+there won't be any check when you get away with 'em. Chances are the
+banking house has already made arrangements to rediscount at one of
+the big banks, and they'll be anxious to shoot the collateral right
+around there; so the whole thing will slip through real pretty."
+
+"And if it don't?" questioned the pessimistic Slim.
+
+She stamped her foot irritably.
+
+"Then it'll simply be a harder matter to dispose of the bonds. They're
+in thousand-dollar denominations, and it would take time, but not be
+dangerous. Anyway you boys are to cash in as soon as you can, shoot the
+two hundred thousand back to Johnny and then Johnny redeems his bonds
+and hikes down there to join you. We can't lose."
+
+"Us fellers do the rough work," commented Connie Hawes. "That ain't
+ever been exactly in my line."
+
+"I'm putting up the kale, ain't I?" queried Johnny. "That ought to
+count some."
+
+"It does. But----"
+
+"But nothing!" snapped Helen of Troy. "The way you boys talk about
+flunking this thing you almost make me ashamed of being a crook."
+
+Meanwhile, in the very limited confines of his room, Jim Hanvey
+had been doing considerable thinking. He sat as Helen had left
+him, overflowing the old wicker chair, puffing solemnly upon the
+long-extinguished stump of his cigar, fat fingers fiddling with his
+watch chain.
+
+Jim was interested; so interested that for a few moments he almost
+forgot the intense heat. He had been asked to keep a crook on the
+straight and narrow.
+
+"Gee! Johnny was a good workman in his day. Funny what wimmin will do
+to a guy."
+
+He was surprised that Johnny had remained straight for this length of
+time. He didn't blame the lad, of course--was sincerely glad that he
+had done so. Helen was a woman in a million, just such a one as Jim
+secretly craved for a wife. She was comfortably large and full-blooded
+and richly blond. "And wise. I'd hate to be married to a boneheaded
+dame." He lighted his cigar stump absently. "Swell-lookin' frail like
+her could almost make me turn crooked. No wonder she's kept Johnny
+straight."
+
+More peculiar than that, however, Jim reflected, was the fact that
+Helen herself had forsaken the rose path. She had been a clever dip in
+her day--none superior--and a smooth worker in other lines. He recalled
+the Starkman blackmail scheme; they'd never been able to hang a thing
+on Helen for that--or Johnny either. Old Starkman's lips had been
+tightly sealed, and not through indifference to money.
+
+"That bimbo didn't love a dollar no more than he did his last pair of
+pants. Helen sure had him dead to rights, someway."
+
+Here was Helen going straight and coming to him for assistance that her
+husband might not step from the road of rectitude. Jim's massive head
+rolled heavily from side to side in wonderment.
+
+He spent the evening at a movie, finding himself aroused to spontaneous
+applause at that portion of the picture which disclosed the husband
+returning home just in time to prevent the elopement of his wife and
+the chauffeur, the latter having turned out to be an old lover in
+disguise. There was a saccharine scene which resulted in a dramatic
+choice between the men, the woman designating her preference by nearly
+strangling her husband while that gentleman beamed happily upon the
+discomfited lover as he slunk miserably away, presumably to another
+household where, perchance, the husband might not return home thus
+inopportunely.
+
+Scenes of that sort were vastly impressive to Jim. He hated bad
+sportsmanship, and the villain-chauffeur in this picture had been a bad
+sport. Crookedness Jim loved. He admired a clever crook and worshiped
+a good woman. There was something massively pitiful about the man as
+he gazed raptly upon the silver screen in the picture show; something
+inexpressibly sad in his demeanor, his abject loneliness. Jim himself
+would have been the last person in the world to realize the void in
+his life. Keen as he was in analysis of others, he was no master of
+introspection. When he emerged from the picture theater it was in the
+grip of a warm, sentimental glow. His simple, direct nature had been
+stirred to the roots. At that moment he desired nothing in life so much
+as to insure Helen the retention of that happiness which a few brief
+years of honest living had brought to her.
+
+The following morning--Wednesday--he visited the banking house
+of Starnes & Company, where Johnny's loan was in the process of
+negotiation. He discovered that Joseph P. Starnes, the president, was
+handling the matter personally and that Johnny had explained frankly
+to Mr. Starnes the use to which the money was to be put.
+
+"It is no concern of mine," explained Mr. Starnes crisply, "what Mr.
+Norton does with that money. As a matter of fact, it has been my
+experience that a professional gambler is highly trustworthy. In the
+second place there is always the chance that his venture will prove
+unprofitable, in which case I shall have recourse to my collateral. It
+is excellent collateral, Mr. Hanvey; as good as money. This house is
+safe--entirely and thoroughly safe."
+
+"H'm! Guess you're about right, Mr. Starnes. Just wanted to know if you
+was wise to what this bird wanted the money for."
+
+"Of course I am." Mr. Starnes' manner was curt. He had an instinctive
+antipathy to this hulking representative of the Bankers' Protective
+Association; had more than once seriously considered suggesting to that
+organization that the man was mentally unfitted for the responsibility
+of his position.
+
+"And if I were not it would make no difference. Liberty Bonds form
+security which we cannot question."
+
+Jim rose.
+
+"I ain't gonna argue about it."
+
+"There's nothing to argue."
+
+"Certainly not. Of course there ain't. That's why I ain't gonna argue
+about it."
+
+That evening Jim dropped in at the hotel where Johnny and Helen were
+registered. He telephoned to their room and was bidden to come up.
+His call abruptly terminated a hectic pinochle game then in progress,
+leaving Happy Gorman a heavy and disgruntled loser. When Jim entered
+the room he discovered Johnny playing solitaire and Helen seated by the
+window, reading a fashion magazine. A significant glance passed between
+the portly detective and the lavishly blond woman. Johnny rose at sight
+and posed for a moment with one hand gripping the card table, a slight
+frown showing.
+
+"'Lo, Jim."
+
+Johnny was a most excellent actor. Apparently he was enormously
+surprised at the presence of the Gargantuan gentleman who bulked in the
+doorway. It was Jim who punctured the silence:
+
+"Ain't you glad to see me, Johnny?"
+
+"Why shouldn't I be?"
+
+"I'll bite. Why?"
+
+"If you think you've got anything on me----"
+
+"Aw, g'wan, Johnny! You know durn well that I know you've been goin'
+straight since you and Helen got hitched up. Just heard you were in
+town an' dropped in for a social chat."
+
+Norton appeared relieved. He heaved an impressive sigh and motioned his
+visitor to a chair.
+
+As though for the first time, Jim took notice of Helen. He held her two
+hands in his and stared approvingly.
+
+"Helen of Troy! By gosh, Helen, you're prettier than ever! You've put
+on flesh, but you've been careful where you put it."
+
+"That's all that counts, isn't it?"
+
+"Yep. Some wimmin are downright careless. How're you an' Johnny gettin'
+along?"
+
+"Mighty well."
+
+"Who you doin' for a livin'?"
+
+"The public. Johnny's been makin' a book down in New Orleans. It's a
+lot of work and a heap of expense, but we've managed to make ends meet."
+
+Jim eyed the cards longingly.
+
+"How 'bout a little three-handed game of setback?"
+
+Chairs were drawn up. They played for a cent a point. It was midnight
+when Jim paid his losses--eighty-one cents--and rose to go.
+
+"This is the life," he commented heartily. Then his face grew serious.
+"Keep it up, Johnny. There's nothin' to this crooked stuff."
+
+"I know that, Jim," returned Norton fervently. "I'm off it."
+
+The door closed behind the detective. Assured that he had departed,
+Johnny crossed the room, took his wife in his arms and implanted a
+smacking kiss upon her willing lips.
+
+"Hook, line and sinker!"
+
+"It is a dirty shame to take him in that way."
+
+"Sure! But it's him or us, and there ain't any use of it being us.
+We'll be on Easy Street when this deal is finished."
+
+They slept but lightly that night. The following morning early there
+was an executive session in Johnny's room. Slim Bolton was there,
+pessimistic as ever; Happy Gorman, melancholy but game; Connie Hawes,
+steely-eyed and emotionless.
+
+"There's nothing to worry about," reassured Johnny. "Everything's
+chicken."
+
+"For you--yes."
+
+Helen of Troy whirled on the speaker.
+
+"You can welch any time you want. It's Johnny's idea and Johnny's jack.
+If you ain't game to go through with it----"
+
+"Aw, dry up, girlie! Who said anything about welching? I just wanted
+you to know that we aren't going it blind. If we didn't need the money
+so bad----"
+
+"If people didn't need money there wouldn't be any crooks," she said
+tartly. "Now let's check over the plan."
+
+They put their heads together and for the next fifteen minutes their
+earnest voices hummed steadily; five clever--if warped--brains planning
+the betterment of themselves and the discomfiture of a single, lonely,
+unwieldy detective.
+
+"It's rough," summarized Happy Gorman, "but it looks like a cinch."
+
+They separated. Slim Bolton went to a downtown garage, where he took
+out a car bought by him three days before. Slim knew more than a thing
+or two about automobiles, and for two days had been devoting his
+energies to the task of tuning this car up to the notch of perfect
+performance. He drove downtown and parked opposite the office building
+which housed the firm of Starnes & Company, bankers and brokers.
+
+Slim took his post in the automobile at about eleven o'clock. At 11:30
+he was joined by Happy Gorman, strong of arm and melancholy of face.
+
+At 11:45 Connie Hawes appeared. He was dressed in a loose-fitting tweed
+suit, his coat tailored with a vent back so as to afford a maximum
+of action liberty. He nodded briefly to the two men in the car, then
+strolled around the corner and stationed himself outside a barber shop
+where he controlled a view of the building which held the Starnes
+offices. At 1:20 o'clock the figure of Johnny Norton came into view.
+He was walking up from the main business thoroughfare of the city and
+carrying a package which the men knew contained the Liberty Bonds.
+From the corner of his eye he took note of the fact that his three
+confederates were on duty. He turned into the office building and five
+minutes later was ushered into the private office of Joseph P. Starnes.
+That gentleman greeted him effusively, but it was patent, too, that Mr.
+Starnes was very much on guard.
+
+"You're late, Mr. Norton."
+
+"Sorry," explained Johnny suavely. "I overslept, and I've been busy
+checking over these bonds." He produced a knife and deftly cut the
+twine which bound the bulky package. "I suppose you have the note
+prepared."
+
+"Yes."
+
+Starnes reached for the bonds. His sharp eyes, glittering from beneath
+bushy brows, inspected them closely. There wasn't a doubt of their
+genuineness. He counted them three times. Mr. Starnes was thoroughly
+reassured. His firm was on the verge of negotiating a very profitable
+loan. They were to receive 7 per cent interest from Johnny, rediscount
+the bonds at five per cent and thus make a clear 2 per cent profit,
+plus brokerage commission, without the embarrassment of tying up any of
+their cash reserve.
+
+"Amount correct?" questioned Johnny crisply.
+
+"Yes."
+
+Johnny glanced at his watch.
+
+"It is almost time for the bank to close, Mr. Starnes. If you'll make
+out my check for two hundred thousand and let me sign the note----I
+want to make my deposit to-day."
+
+Starnes reached for a memorandum pad.
+
+"I'll have to take these numbers down."
+
+Johnny was frigid under the strain.
+
+"I have a list here, Mr. Starnes. If you will just check the bonds
+themselves."
+
+"Good!"
+
+Unsuspiciously Joseph P. Starnes checked the numbers on the bonds as
+Johnny Norton read from the list. It was considerable of a memory feat
+on Johnny's part, and he would not have been equal to it save for the
+fact that he worked with a key system. He read the numbers swiftly,
+each number that he read being the actual number on a bond which the
+banker checked off. But the numbers which Johnny called out were not
+the numbers which he had on his list.
+
+The hour of two was approaching. Johnny again suggested that he desired
+to make his deposit that day in the First National. Starnes sounded the
+buzzer for his bookkeeper.
+
+"The Norton note, please, and the check."
+
+They were duly produced. Starnes innocently reached for the list of
+bond numbers which Johnny had unostentatiously laid atop the bonds and
+extended the list to his bookkeeper.
+
+"See that these are entered up, Mr. Mathews. These are the
+thousand-dollar Liberties which we have accepted as security for the
+loan to Mr. Norton here."
+
+The bookkeeper departed with the incorrect list of bonds. Johnny Norton
+was grinning inwardly. He scribbled his name on the note and accepted
+the Starnes check for two hundred thousand dollars. He shook hands and
+departed. Slim Bolton and Happy Gorman saw him swing down the street en
+route to the First National. At two minutes before two o'clock Johnny
+deposited to his credit the Starnes check. Then he returned to the
+hotel--and Helen.
+
+She was exultant at his report of success, and immediately they set
+the stage for a new drama. From the depths of his trunk he produced
+several dozen blank checks of the Crescent National of New Orleans.
+These he placed on the writing desk beside Major Torrance's check for
+eight thousand dollars, which was also on the Crescent National. A half
+dozen pens were next laid out carefully and several bottles of ink,
+all approximately of the color used originally by the unsuspecting
+horse owner, who was at that moment a victim to _mal de mer_. Then,
+with brow furrowed, Johnny went to work. The spell of it gained upon
+him; he forgot for the moment that this was not seriously undertaken.
+His fingers, clumsy through lack of practice, labored over 8's and 0's
+similar to those made by the major.
+
+"It's a dog-goned shame," commented Johnny, "that I ain't really trying
+something like this."
+
+Helen gazed pridefully upon his handiwork.
+
+"Come off that, dearie! Jim'd have you in less than no time."
+
+"I know, I know; but I'm awfully tempted." He shoved his chair back
+from the writing desk, lighted a Turkish cigarette and walked to
+the window, where he posed for a moment, carelessly twirling his
+close-clipped mustache. "Better telephone Jim, Helen. We want this
+thing to be an alibi."
+
+She called the number of Jim's hotel apartment house. The switchboard
+operator there answered.
+
+"Mr. Hanvey's apartment, please."
+
+There was a brief pause and then the operator's voice: "If you'll hold
+the telephone for a moment I'll connect you. Mr. Hanvey has just went
+up in the elevator."
+
+Helen nodded violently at her husband, signifying that Jim was at home.
+In the transmitter she fired a question: "How long has he been out?"
+
+"I don't know. I've just been on duty a half hour. If you wish----"
+
+Then came a violent buzzing, a pause and a drawling, lazy voice from
+the other end:
+
+"Hello! Who's this now?"
+
+"Jim?"
+
+"Yeh?"
+
+"This is Helen."
+
+"Is it?"
+
+"Oh, Jim"--she pulled out the tremolo stop--"you promised to help me
+keep Johnny straight--you promised!"
+
+"Well, I'm doin' my best."
+
+"You haven't done enough. He's working now, Jim--right now. Do you
+understand?"
+
+"On that paper?"
+
+"Yes. Understand?"
+
+"Sure; sure I do, Helen! I ain't so thick I can't see the joke when one
+clown slaps another in the pants. What you want me to do about it?"
+
+"Come down and stop him. He'll listen to you."
+
+"There ain't many folks will." Brief silence and then--"I'll come. It's
+awful hot for walkin'----"
+
+"Take a taxi."
+
+Came Jim's answer, heavy with sarcasm: "Too durned expensive for an
+honest detective."
+
+His receiver clicked on the hook. Helen flung herself across the room
+and into her husband's arms.
+
+"It worked, dearie. He just came in, which means he ain't hanging
+around Starnes & Company. He probably followed you when you left there,
+to get an idea if you were up to anything special. Saw you return to
+the hotel, and he went home. You've got an alibi. And now--now we'll
+let him save you from going crooked! Oh, honey, we're getting away with
+it!"
+
+He patted her shoulder fondly.
+
+"You sure are a dandy wife, Helen! Great ol' girl!"
+
+She bustled into the dressing room.
+
+"I'll be on the watchout for Jim in the lobby. Remember, Johnny, if you
+act your part right he'll never suspect you of being in on this deal,
+even if something should go wrong."
+
+As she arranged her hat Johnny Norton glanced across the housetops in
+the general direction of the downtown business district.
+
+"Gee, I'd give something to know what happened down yonder!"
+
+It was worth knowing, for there had been action a-plenty. All three of
+the waiting men had witnessed Johnny's departure from the offices of
+Starnes & Company, and they saw Johnny walk to the bank via the route
+which they knew the messenger would take. The quintet had planned this
+affair to a detail. They knew, for instance, that securities of unusual
+value held by Starnes & Company were daily taken to the First National
+Bank by a trustworthy messenger.
+
+This messenger was little more than a glorified office boy despite
+his maturity. Too, he was a creature of habit. He daily departed the
+Starnes & Company suite about 2:30 o'clock, and being methodical took
+the shortest possible route to the First National. It was upon this
+habit of the messenger's that much of their scheme was based.
+
+There were two routes between the Starnes corner and the First
+National, located two blocks away. The obvious one was down Elm Street
+one block to Main, and thence along that cheap thoroughfare to Pelham
+Street. The other was one block north on Ashmore and thence across
+on Pelham to Main. The latter route was several steps shorter, less
+traveled, and therefore easier. It was this second route which the
+Starnes messenger was in the habit of taking.
+
+Almost identical in distance, the two routes were entirely dissimilar.
+Elm Street was a principal thoroughfare, something which could not be
+said of either Ashmore or Pelham. Those two blocks were lined with
+shoddy secondhand stores, groceries, markets and third-rate cafeterias.
+
+At thirty-three minutes after two o'clock the Starnes messenger emerged
+from the big office building and started northward on Ashmore. He
+walked with a peculiar shuffling gait, and in his right hand he
+clutched a brown-leather satchel. The moment he appeared Slim Bolton
+slipped into reverse, backed his sedan into the traffic, turned into
+Ashmore and followed. He saw Connie Hawes detach himself from the
+doorway of a barber shop and fall into step behind the decrepit and
+unsuspecting messenger.
+
+Slim was driving parallel to the slow-moving messenger. His car veered
+toward the curb. A trifle ahead of the man, Slim stopped his car and
+immediately slipped into second in preparation for a quick get-away.
+Happy Gorman, every inch the gentleman in appearance, opened the rear
+door of the sedan and hailed the little old man.
+
+"Pardon me, stranger," he said politely, "but would you mind telling me
+which way I go to reach the best hotel?"
+
+The messenger paused and quite innocently moved toward the curb and the
+car. He recognized that this man must be a tourist. Connie Hawes closed
+in on him from the rear.
+
+"The best hotel?" repeated the messenger, pleased at having been
+questioned. "It's two blocks down that way, and then----"
+
+The world went black before his eyes. Connie Hawes struck as he leaped.
+The messenger pitched forward into the opened door and Connie flung him
+out of the way as he darted by and grabbed the satchel. A spectator,
+rigid with terror, emitted a shriek of horror. The messenger crumpled
+grotesquely in the gutter--stunned.
+
+Slim clamped down on the accelerator and sped forward. There was no
+traffic policeman on that little-used corner. Another pedestrian
+shouted, but no one knew what caused his excitement. The car whirled
+eastward on Pelham Street, turned north at the next corner and then
+rounded the block and sped southward over the viaduct. A crowd
+had collected about the figure of the stricken messenger, who was
+now struggling back to consciousness. Excitement was intense, but
+explanations given the belated policeman were incoherent. The officer
+notified headquarters that a messenger for the Starnes banking house
+had been hit on the head and robbed, but he had no clue as to the
+identity of the assailants and knew nothing of the affair save that
+the escape had been made in an automobile. And the three criminals,
+speeding across country, little appreciated the measure of their
+safety. They drove at reasonable speed for thirty miles. At the
+first little town Connie Hawes alighted, carrying the satchel. The
+car proceeded. Twelve miles farther south Happy Gorman left the car.
+Slim drove into the next town, parked his car at the curb, strolled
+nonchalantly into a drug store, where he consumed an ice-cream soda,
+and twenty minutes later boarded a New Orleans-bound train. In the
+second Pullman he saw Connie Hawes and Happy Gorman, but by no
+slightest gesture did these men indicate an acquaintanceship with one
+another.
+
+They knew that they were safe, but took no chances. Time enough for
+that after their trip westward from New Orleans, when they should have
+attained safety on the far side of the Mexican border.
+
+Events of some importance had been occurring contemporaneously in the
+city from which they had so abruptly departed. Immediately on receiving
+the telephone call from Helen of Troy, Jim Hanvey left his diminutive
+apartment. The heat had become more intense; the sun baked down from a
+sky unmarked by clouds.
+
+Walking, for Jim, was far from a pleasure. He rolled uncomfortably
+down the street, his tiny, fishlike eyes blinking with interminable
+slowness, fat hands flapping awkwardly against his pants legs with each
+lumbering step. He turned in at the hotel lobby and there found Helen.
+She crossed eagerly toward him, futilely searching his puttylike face
+for any indication of suspicion.
+
+"You understand what I wanted with you, Jim?"
+
+"Yeh, sure I understand, Helen. But it does seem to me Johnny might've
+been considerate enough to pick a cooler day to go crooked on."
+
+"He's working now. He's all excited, looking like he's sorry he wasted
+all this time going straight. He's a wizard with other folks' checks,
+Johnny is."
+
+"M'm-h'm! Clever boy. What you want me to do?"
+
+"Go up and talk to him."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"I'll go with you."
+
+"He won't get peeved at you for tipping me off?"
+
+"I don't care if he does," she returned virtuously. "I always have
+believed that honesty was the best policy--when you don't really need
+money."
+
+"Yeh--and when you get away with it."
+
+They entered Johnny's room without the formality of knocking.
+
+Johnny backed against the table, jaws working in true movie-villain
+fashion. His hands, groping behind his back, scraped the checks into a
+heap in a crude attempt at concealment. Helen, too, gave evidence of
+the fact that the art of the actor is not yet dead--or even ill. She
+raised pitiful eyes to her husband's face.
+
+"I know you'll hate me, Johnny; but I tipped Jim off."
+
+He simulated great rage.
+
+"Snitched on me, eh? Damn you----"
+
+"Whoa, Johnny! Easy there, son! I hate to hear ladies damn-you'd when
+I'm around."
+
+Johnny turned his offended attention to the detective.
+
+"It's none of your business----"
+
+"I hope not, Johnny; but it most likely would have been if Helen hadn't
+telephoned me."
+
+"I did it for your sake, Johnny," she chimed in. "I have been very
+happy during the last six years, unhaunted by the fear of prison
+cells."
+
+Jim turned to her, a quizzical light in his glassy eyes.
+
+"Who wrote them words?"
+
+She flushed.
+
+"I don't know; but they're just what I feel." She threw her arms around
+Johnny's neck. "Please, dearie, for my sake, for the sake of our
+happiness, listen to Jim! We've been straight for so long. You couldn't
+get away with no forgery job now, dearie; you're all out of practice."
+
+Jim waddled heavily across the room and took the batch of half-written
+checks from Johnny's unresisting hand.
+
+"Lemme see how good you are now, kid. You used to be real clever."
+He inspected them closely. "T'chk! T'chk! They just can't come back,
+Johnny. That's awful rough work. I'd have got you in no time at all.
+Yeh, tough luck, son; but I reckon you'd be wise to run straight from
+now on. You've lost your touch, Johnny."
+
+An expression of genuine sorrow crossed Johnny's face.
+
+"On the level?"
+
+"Surest thing you know!"
+
+"Well"--and Johnny sighed--"I s'pose I might as well keep on like I've
+been going. Much obliged, Jim."
+
+Helen's hysterical squeal of delight filled the room.
+
+"You promise, dearie--promise to keep straight forever and ever?"
+
+"Amen!"
+
+She turned her attention to Jim, clasped one of his hands between both
+of hers.
+
+"I don't know how to thank you, Jim. You've been wonderful, marvelous!"
+
+Jim blushed boyishly.
+
+"Gee, Helen, lay offen that stuff! When a good-lookin' dame begins
+sayin' sweet things to me I ain't got no more backbone than a nickel's
+worth of ice cream."
+
+"But, Jim----"
+
+The telephone jangled.
+
+"That's for me," Jim announced.
+
+"You?"
+
+"Uh-huh! I was expectin' a call an' I told the apartment house operator
+she'd find me here."
+
+Helen and her husband were ill-at-ease. In a trice they had ceased
+to be sorry for the ungainly detective. There was something so
+cumbersomely positive in his manner; such a degree of assurance.
+
+"Hello!"
+
+It was Hanvey at the telephone. The two others strained their ears, but
+without result. And Jim's face told them no more than they could have
+learned by watching the lee side of a cantaloupe.
+
+"Yeh, Jim Hanvey speaking.... Uh-huh.... You don't say so!... When?...
+Clear?... You done what I suggested?... Well, that proves you ain't the
+absolute ass I thought you was, Mr. Starnes."
+
+He clicked the receiver on the hook and turned away. He lighted a fresh
+cigar and jerked his head toward the telephone. "Funny thing," he
+commented disinterestedly.
+
+"Yes?" They spoke eagerly in chorus.
+
+"Messenger left the Starnes offices a few minutes ago. Coupla
+roughnecks bumped him on the bean, grabbed his satchel and made a
+get-away." If he discerned their mutual signs of relief he gave no
+indication of the fact. His voice droned on monotonously. "Old man
+Starnes is a stiff-necked idiot, but this time he was wise. He took my
+advice for once."
+
+"Your advice?"
+
+"Sure! Y'see, with you dumping a quarter million dollars in
+unregistered Liberties with him, there was always danger that some
+crooks might get wise to it and try to make a haul. So I suggested to
+Fat-head Starnes that he stick them securities in his own vault for a
+while instead of sendin' 'em down to the First National as he usually
+does. In view of what just happened, I think I was kinder clever--real
+awful clever." He paused apologetically. "You ain't got no objections
+to me callin' myself clever, have you?"
+
+They did not answer, a premonition of disaster had robbed them of
+speech.
+
+"Y'see, Helen, them naughty crooks might of got away with Johnny's
+Liberty Bonds. Might of, I said. But they didn't. All that was in that
+satchel was a few registered bonds which ain't worth duck soup s'far's
+negotiatin' 'em is concerned."
+
+Helen's face was dead white beneath her plentiful make-up.
+
+"Johnny's Liberty Bonds are still at Starnes & Company?"
+
+"Yeh, sure!"
+
+"You wouldn't lie to me, Jim, would you?"
+
+"Aw, Helen, you know I wouldn't! Fat men are rotten liars."
+
+"You suspected that the bank messenger was going to be robbed?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"I had a sort of a hunch thataway."
+
+She turned dejectedly. It was Johnny Norton who launched the next
+question:
+
+"How did you get wise, Jim?"
+
+"Me? It was easy this time. A lady tipped me off; a terrible pretty
+blond lady." Helen winced. "'Bout as much of a tip-off as I needed,
+anyway," continued Jim softly. "Y'know, Johnny, things occur awful
+funny sometimes. I happened to drift into the Starnes offices just
+after you left, and would you believe it, the list of bond numbers that
+old bird had didn't tally with the bonds at all. It was real peculiar.
+So I just suggested that they hold 'em there a while for the bookkeeper
+to enter 'em up. Y'know, a banker ought to be more careful than Starnes
+was. He never knows when he's li'ble to get gypped." He turned toward
+the door. "Yeh, Johnny, if I was you I'd stay on the safe side of
+things. You've lost your touch, son--lost it complete."
+
+Helen of Troy stared at her husband and he returned her gaze with one
+equally miserable. Jim Hanvey posed heavily in the doorway, the fingers
+of his right hand fiddling with his massive watch chain. He regarded
+them benignly. Then he blinked with maddening slowness.
+
+"Didn't you come to me, Helen, an' ask me to keep Johnny from goin'
+crooked?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Well," drawled the big man, "I only done what you asked me, didn't I?"
+
+
+
+
+                             CAVEAT EMPTOR
+
+
+Jim Hanvey lolled upon a park bench, his ample and ungainly figure
+entirely surrounded by landscape. The fingers of his right hand
+clutched the stump of a cigar which for downright meanness was in a
+class alone. His fat and florid face was wreathed in contentment and
+his fishy eyes were partially curtained by heavy lids from beneath
+which Jim stared amusedly at a group of very small children who romped
+in shrill disdain of a sign which warned all and sundry that that
+particular grass was not to be trod upon.
+
+The sun of early September was dropping slowly to rest behind the
+interminable line of apartment houses on the farther side of Central
+Park West. It sprinkled in golden radiance through the red leaves above
+Jim's uncovered head and mottled the rich green carpet beneath his
+enormous feet. Jim's eyes closed slowly as he luxuriously stretched his
+Gargantuan frame. Then the eyes opened to rest upon the trim figure
+of a little girl of six who stood regarding him with an expression of
+grave but frank interest.
+
+"Hmm!" Jim pulled himself together. "Good evening."
+
+The child made no answer. A spot near Jim's mid-section held her
+undivided attention. The unwieldy detective matched the child's
+gravity with his own. She was a pretty little thing whose raiment,
+even to Jim's untutored eyes, bespoke extreme affluence. At length,
+with absolute ease of manner, she moved forward and touched with her
+fore-finger, the gold toothpick which hung suspended from the heavy
+watch chain spanning Jim's ill-fitting vest.
+
+"That's pretty," she commented abruptly.
+
+Jim's face lighted with pleasure. It was seldom indeed that his pet bit
+of personal ornamentation received so genuine a compliment.
+
+"Ain't it?"
+
+"Yup. Awful pretty." Then, doubtfully. "What is it?"
+
+Jim touched a button and a wicked and glistening point appeared. "A
+toothpick," he explained.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"It's--well, you see----" His face went blank. "Just a toothpick,
+that's all. Solid gold."
+
+"Oh!" said the child. "I see."
+
+Jim felt relieved. He fancied it might be difficult to explain a solid
+gold toothpick and he thanked goodness for the youngster's erudition.
+She continued to finger the bauble approvingly but, so far as she was
+concerned, the conversation was at an end.
+
+The silence proved somewhat embarrassing to Jim. It was entirely too
+impersonal for his friendly nature. "What's your name?"
+
+"Pauline."
+
+"Pauline what?"
+
+"Pauline Lathrop."
+
+"That's a pretty name, Pauline. Where do you live?"
+
+A touch of imitative snobbishness displayed itself in the answer of the
+little girl. "Riverside Drive. My father is a very rich man and we have
+three automobiles."
+
+"Wonderful. Astounding. And what is your father's name?"
+
+"Mr. Noah Lathrop. He's an emporter."
+
+"An emporter, eh?" Remembrance came to the detective. "Sure. Sure
+enough he is. A joolry importer, isn't he?"
+
+"Yup. An' we got three automobiles."
+
+"That certainly is wonderful, Pauline. I'm awful glad to know about
+them automobiles. I guess your daddy's business must be awful good."
+
+"No," confessed the child frankly. "Father says it's gone to hell."
+
+Jim was a trifle nonplussed. "That's too bad. I'm real sorry to hear
+it, Pauline."
+
+Once again the wordless, contemplative stare of the child. "You're
+awful fat."
+
+"So I've heard."
+
+"And you look ugly," she finished. "But you ain't."
+
+"That's a relief. I aint no blue-ribbon entry, at that."
+
+"I like that gold thing," continued Pauline. "But I bet you aint got
+three automobiles."
+
+"No. I bet I aint."
+
+"My Father has, and he says----"
+
+"Pauline!" The voice of a woman came inquiringly through the soft air
+of a gradually gathering dusk. "Oo-oh! Pauline."
+
+"That's my nurse," she explained to Jim Hanvey. "She gets twenty
+dollars a week. Her name is Mary."
+
+Jim's eyes turned slowly toward the trim little uniformed figure which
+was bearing down upon them. Faint stirrings of recollection occurred in
+the detective's brain. The figure--the face--the voice----And now Mary
+had taken Pauline's hand.
+
+"I told you not to run away from that summerhouse. I've been looking
+everywhere for you." She exhibited genuine concern--and relief. Pauline
+appeared not at all interested.
+
+"This man has got a gold toothpick," she announced triumphantly. "But
+he aint got three automobiles."
+
+The nurse turned toward the big man with a smile of quiet apology on
+her lips. Her eyes met the glassy orbs of the detective; and the smile
+congealed. The color receded from her cheeks and it was patent that she
+was struggling to recover a poise suddenly lost.
+
+The detective blinked with maddening slowness. "Hello Mary," he said.
+"How's Tim?"
+
+The trim little woman in the nurse's uniform stood rigid for a moment.
+Then she turned to the child. "Run on and play with the other children
+a few minutes," she ordered. Pauline obeyed willingly enough. The nurse
+stood regarding Hanvey apprehensively, and eventually the mammoth
+detective punctured the silence.
+
+"Why the disguise, Mary?"
+
+She spoke in tones so low as to be scarcely audible. "It isn't a
+disguise, Jim."
+
+"No-o? Last time I seen you----"
+
+"Never mind that," she said nervously. "I'm runnin' straight now. Lay
+off."
+
+"Goshamighty, Mary--I aint aiming to do nothin' else. I'm just curious."
+
+"I tell you everything's all right."
+
+"Sure it is. But why the job? What you doin' nursin' a kid?"
+
+He could discern the struggle which she was undergoing. And finally she
+seated herself beside him. "There aint a thing wrong, Jim. Honest there
+aint. I've just been workin' since they sent Tim up."
+
+"He's in stir?"
+
+"Didn't you know?"
+
+"I heard somethin' about it--but the case wasn't exactly in my line as
+I remember. Gov'ment, wasn't it?"
+
+She nodded. "Smuggling."
+
+"Shuh!"
+
+"They caught him with the goods. He pleaded guilty. He's doing a
+two-year stretch in Atlanta. He left me flat--that's why I went to
+work. I got a nursing job because I naturally like kids. I had to do
+somethin'."
+
+"Mm!" Jim's face betrayed no particular interest. If there was doubt of
+her in his mind he did not show it. "Funny--you workin' as a nursegirl
+while Tim is doing a stretch. Well--I sure hope you stay on the
+straight an' narrow. It don't pay awful good but it's real safe."
+
+She sighed with relief. "I'm not pulling anything, Jim. I'm on the
+level--anyway until Timmy gets out."
+
+She summoned her youthful charge and they walked off together toward
+the Seventy-second street gate. Jim stared speculatively after them. He
+groped blindly for a match and relighted his cigar. Then, as he inhaled
+deeply, he gave vent to an expression of doubt----
+
+"Wonder what she lied to me for?"
+
+His somnolent eyes half closed and as he lay back in his seat there
+came to him the faint limning of the picture in which she had appeared
+at the occasion of their last meeting--a bank job in Omaha, a
+successful bank job in which he knew that she had been the brains of
+the gang. Jim held a great admiration for that little woman; she was
+courageous and she was clever; she played her cards well and she played
+them boldly. That last case had been one of his few unsuccessful ones
+and he had been more than half glad of it. He had been out to get them,
+but, failing, he felt nothing of resentment--only a keen admiration for
+the brains which had outwitted him.
+
+But a few minutes since he had seen Mary Lannigan flustered for the
+first time in the several years of their acquaintanceship. That
+discomfiture bespoke guilt. Hanvey's fat fingers groped for the gold
+toothpick so lately admired by Pauline Lathrop. That golden horror was
+of inestimable assistance to Hanvey in moments of mental stress. Mary
+working as a nursegirl. Hmph! There was something behind that--bound
+to be. Jim Hanvey was reputed to know intimately every worthwhile
+crook in the country and he counted Tim and Mary Lannigan as among
+his very best friends. Jim knew, for instance, that Tim had a young
+fortune salted away and that it was not at all necessary for his wife
+to work as a menial while he enjoyed the hospitality of the United
+States government. That being the case, Mary's present occupation
+was the cloak for something. He was sorry--darn shame Mary couldn't
+keep straight. Good kid. "An' dog-gone her--she's gone an' got me all
+interested."
+
+At first Jim determined to play hands off. He wasn't a policeman; it
+was no duty of his to make trouble for crooks who were not engaged
+in work which held his immediate attention. But there was something
+bizarre in the very thought of this excessively clever little woman
+acting as nursemaid to a snippy little girl who boasted of her father's
+trio of motor cars. Two other facts paraded before him, demanding that
+he adduce something from their proximity to one another.
+
+One of them was that the father of the girl whom Mary nursed was a
+jewelry importer.
+
+The second fact had to do with Tim Lannigan's incarceration for
+smuggling. Smuggling was not in Tim's line.
+
+That night Jim reluctantly omitted his regular picture show and did
+a little investigation. Information came readily to hand principally
+because Jim knew just where to turn. When he retired near midnight he
+knew considerably more about Mary Lannigan's job, but there were one or
+two blank spaces which had aroused his curiosity beyond measure.
+
+One vital thing he had learned--and that was that the name of Noah
+Lathrop had been mentioned more than casually in the case which
+resulted in Tim's journey to Atlanta. Just what Lathrop had to do with
+it no one could adequately explain, but there was undeniably a sinister
+significance.
+
+He was at the park again the following day but Mary and the child
+did not appear. The next afternoon Jim was on Riverside Drive at the
+hour he knew a nurse would naturally go walking. Pauline recognized
+him first, nor, in the eagerness with which she greeted him, did he
+lose sight of the apprehension which blanched the pretty face of Mary
+Lannigan.
+
+"That," proclaimed the tactful Pauline, designating Jim's gold
+toothpick, "is vulgar."
+
+"G'wan. Why?"
+
+"Gentlemen," she explained, "do not use _gold_ toothpicks."
+
+Jim turned quizzically to Mary. "Aint she the bright kid?" He grew
+serious then--"Come out of it, Sister. I aint gonna eat you."
+
+He walked with them to Central Park. In response to his unspoken
+command, Mary sent Pauline to play with the other children and she and
+Jim sat together on the bench. It was Jim who spoke first, after he had
+lighted one of his offensively fragrant cigars.
+
+"Get me straight, Mary--I don't want to cause you no trouble ... but
+you've got my curiosity aroused something terrible."
+
+For a moment she didn't answer. She sat staring at the path where her
+toe was etching aimlessly in the dust. And finally she faced him with
+a flash of her old-time spirit. "I want you to lay off, Jim. I'm not
+pulling anything crooked."
+
+"If you're runnin' straight I aint got no choice, have I?"
+
+"Yes--you have."
+
+"How you make that?"
+
+"You can queer things for me--and," earnestly, "I don't want 'em
+queered, Jim--I don't want 'em queered."
+
+There was a little break in her voice which puzzled him. She was deeply
+moved--that, in itself, was a novelty. He took her hand gently between
+both of his enormous ones and patted it as a father might have done.
+
+"I aint tryin' to butt in on your affairs, Sister, but I'd like to get
+the low-down on this. I'll say right off--wait a minute, I'll come
+clean with you before you spill anything. You got me curious night
+before last with that straight stuff an' all. I know--an' you know I
+know--that Tim has a pile salted away which means that I didn't swallow
+your bunk about needin' the twenty-per-an'-cakes you're gettin' for
+nursin' that kid which has a father who owns three automobiles.
+
+"As I say, that sort of started me off an' I did a little checking up
+on my own hook. I learned, among other things, that Noah Lathrop's
+name sort of figured in the smugglin' case which sent Tim South--that
+indicatin' pretty clear that you ain't workin' in Lathrop's house for
+no reason which ought to make Lathrop comfortable. So knowin' what I
+know, if you want to loosen up--why, go right to it, Sister, an' I'll
+be all ears, like any other jackass."
+
+Her head was bowed and it was plain that she was thinking intensively.
+On the grass nearby the children romped, their shrillings cutting
+through the balminess of the September evening. From Central Park West
+came the clanging of Eighth Avenue cars and the occasional sirening of
+automobile traffic. A man and woman on horseback rode down the bridle
+path near them and a park policeman strolled by and ostentatiously
+looked away as he, with considerable surprise, recognized the obese
+Hanvey.
+
+At length she commenced speaking, her voice coming as though from a
+great distance. "It's important, Jim, first of all, that you understand
+I'm telling the truth. If there's anything I say that aint true--it
+aint because I think it aint. I'm giving you the works as I know
+'em. I'm telling you--well, first of all, because I want to get it
+off my chest. And second, because you'd get wise anyway. And third,
+because--Oh! just because.
+
+"I'll commence right at the beginnin', Jim. It started six months ago
+when Tim went to Europe. You know he's a real gent and every once in so
+often he works the card graft on the big steamers--not often enough for
+them to know him. Only when business is dull.
+
+"Well, he was over there loafing around waiting for a certain party to
+sail for America again, this party being the grandest sucker which ever
+stood a couple of raises for the privilege of drawin' to an in-between
+straight. About that time Mr. Noah Lathrop was in Paris doing some
+jewelry buying. He goes over there once or twice every year. His firm
+is one of the biggest on Maiden Lane. And in Paris at the same time
+Lathrop and Tim were, was Walter Yeager."
+
+"Yeager?" Hanvey exhibited keen interest. "In Paris?"
+
+"Yeh. All set for a job. An' get this, Jim--I aint tryin' to get Walt
+in bad. He's had a tough enough time already. But even if Walt does run
+foul of trouble I can't help it. I'm out to do what I can for Tim ...
+that's all I'm thinking of."
+
+Again that little catch in her voice. Jim closed his glassy eyes
+sleepily and motioned for her to continue.
+
+"To hold a long story down, Walt Yeager was onto something soft in
+Paris. He pulled the job and got away with it--about three hundred and
+fifty thousand dollars worth of stones that are stones. It turned the
+Paris police inside out and stood 'em on their ear. It was as nifty a
+piece of work as you've ever heard of, an' Walt got away with it in a
+way you'd be proud of if you knew the details.
+
+"Well, there was Walt with the jewels and nothin' to do with 'em.
+The European markets had nine eyes peeled an' Walt didn't dare bring
+'em to this country because when he came through the customs there'd
+be a stir and a talk--and flooie! So, Walt hearing that Lathrop was
+doin' his semi-annual buying, an' knowing that he wasn't more than ten
+miles above a shady transaction, went to him, confessed that he had
+stolen jewels and asked him what they'd be worth in cash, delivered at
+Lathrop's New York office.
+
+"Lathrop was interested, of course. It was a graft for him. He'd run no
+risk buying the stuff in New York and since his house has a first class
+rep he knew he could slip 'em on the market one by one and the trade
+would never be no wiser. They dickered around for awhile and agreed on
+one hundred and forty thousand dollars cash, F. O. B. Maiden Lane. And
+that's where Tim was pulled into the deal.
+
+"Walt Yeager wasn't willing to declare those jewels at the customs
+and he wasn't game to try and smuggle 'em. So he told Lathrop that in
+order to carry the deal through Lathrop must hire some one to do the
+smuggling. Yeager and Lathrop both inquired around and learned that Tim
+was over there--he bein' at that time in Bremen waiting for his sucker
+friend. He had gone there from Paris. Lathrop went to Germany, found
+Tim and offered him five thousand dollars for the job of smuggling.
+
+"Tim grabbed it. It seemed like a cinch. And that's where Lathrop done
+Tim dirt--because," she turned her blazing eyes on Jim Hanvey--"the
+dirty crook never told Tim that the jewels he was supposed to smuggle
+was stolen goods!"
+
+Jim nodded heavily. "I see.... Lathrop was dishonest. Even with Tim."
+
+"Exactly. And he played safe seven different ways. He saw to it that
+Tim and Walt Yeager engaged passage on a French liner for New York and
+he had it framed with Walt that he wasn't to say a word to Tim until
+they were pretty close to the customs when all Walt was to do was to
+turn the stuff over to Tim, watch Tim smuggle it through and then get
+it back from him and deliver it to Lathrop. Tim was to make the trip
+knowing that some one was going to slip him some jewels just before
+they got to customs. And as true as I'm telling you, Jim, he didn't
+know it was nothing more than a smuggling job. It never occurred to him
+that there might be something behind it.
+
+"Lathrop never even come back on the same ship with them. He sailed a
+week ahead from Southampton. Tim and Walt came over together from Havre
+and a couple days before they reached New York, Walt slipped Tim the
+stuff.
+
+"Well, there aint any use botherin' you with details about how Tim
+tried to work it. It's enough to say that they nabbed him. Caught him
+dead to rights. Tim was sorry, but he wasn't really worried. He knew
+all he had to do was to get in touch with Lathrop on the Q. T. and a
+heap of influence would be used to get him a fine instead of a jail
+sentence and that Lathrop would pay the fine. But--" her hand went out
+and tightened grimly over Jim's flappy paw--"Lathrop welched. Welched
+like a dirty yeller dog. He said he didn't know Tim, hadn't never seen
+him before, and had nothing whatever to do with the case. Meanwhile
+Tim, feeling secure, had pleaded guilty to the smuggling charge.
+
+"And it wasn't until after he pleaded guilty to that, Jim--and Walt
+Yeager had disappeared--that Tim learned how bad he was in. Because the
+jewels he had admitted smuggling were the ones which had been stolen in
+Paris and they were recognized instanter. That's where Tim was crossed
+up. It wasn't that they nabbed him for smuggling--he was guilty of
+that and willing to take his medicine. But he wasn't mixed up in the
+robbery....
+
+"And here's the lay of the land now. Tim got two years in the Federal
+prison for smuggling. He's been there seven months. The jewels have
+been returned to Paris. Yeager has disappeared. Noah Lathrop swears he
+don't know nothing about anything crooked. And when Tim gets through
+serving his smuggling time, Jim--they're going to send him back to
+Paris to stand trial for stealing them jewels."
+
+Her voice trailed off. Jim blinked with maddening slowness and turned
+his apparently sightless eyes upon a pert little squirrel nearby. But
+his voice was charged with keenest sympathy----
+
+"They've got him dead to rights, sure enough, aint they, Mary?"
+
+"Yes," with fierce bitterness, "they have. He hasn't a leg to stand on.
+It's twenty or twenty-five years in a French prison for him. He was in
+Paris when the robbery occurred--no chance to prove an alibi. He tried
+to smuggle the stones. He was caught red-handed. He confessed to the
+smuggling. Lathrop was in the clear--what's Tim's word against his? And
+I--well, I don't mind the two years Tim is doing: he went into that
+with his eyes open ... but Jim--I'm out to save Tim from doing a twenty
+year stretch for something he never even knew about. That's what I'm
+doing, Jim. Now do you understand?"
+
+Jim nodded a ponderous affirmative. "I sure do, Mary. I sure do. But I
+still don't quite savvy this nurse stuff."
+
+Her voice came crisply now in response to the warm friendliness of the
+detective's tone. "Any man who will do what Noah Lathrop did is the
+dirtiest kind of a crook. He's poison mean and low-down and rotten. You
+never knew a first class crook who would welch like that, did you?"
+
+"No-o. Not no decent crook."
+
+"Neither did I. And I figured out if Lathrop was that crooked--it
+wasn't the first time. He's a prominent man and he's proud. He must
+have slipped before. It's a certainty that some time in his life he's
+done something just as rotten as the trick he pulled on Tim. Oh! I
+wouldn't be kicking if he'd come clean with Tim in the first place and
+told him it was stolen stuff. It was the double-crossing and then the
+welching that hurt. And the fact that Tim is innocent. A crook has a
+hard enough life serving time for what he really does, let alone what
+he don't do.
+
+"That's why I worked around and got this job as nursegirl in Lathrop's
+home. I've got a room on the place, and I'm watching, Jim--I'm watching
+close. I'm learning a heap about that bird. He's rotten all the way
+through--a cheap, piking, safety-first crook. Smug and self-satisfied
+and so stuck on himself I want to kill him sometimes. Of course he
+don't dream I know Tim Lannigan or that I'm anything except what I seem.
+
+"And some day, Jim, I'm gonna get something on Noah Lathrop--something
+that he'd rather die than see come out. And when I do I'm gonna make
+him sing. I'm gonna make him come out in the clear and save Tim
+from doing that stretch in France." She threw her arms wide in an
+unconsciously dramatic gesture--"That's why I'm working as a nursegirl
+in his house, Jim--that's why."
+
+Pauline Lathrop appeared and demanded two cents with which to purchase
+an apple-on-a-stick. She accepted the money from Jim but again
+expressed her disdain for the vulgar toothpick. "And your cigars smell
+terrible."
+
+Jim sighed. "I reckon they do. But I like 'em."
+
+"You're a funny man," said the child.
+
+Pauline departed joyously to purchase her confection. Jim turned
+friendly eyes upon the tiny, indomitable figure of the little woman
+by his side. He _tchk'd_ once or twice and mopped his forehead with a
+lavender handkerchief.
+
+"You'll lay off me, won't you, Jim?"
+
+"Huh?"
+
+"You'll give me a free hand in this matter, won't you? Let me play it
+my own way?"
+
+He thought for a moment before replying. And then, slowly and
+deliberately he shook his head. "Nope."
+
+He saw her figure stiffen, watched the delicate hands ball into tiny
+fists. "Jim...." There was horror and unbelief in her tone.
+
+"Nope, Mary--I aint gonna play hands off in this little game of yours.
+Not for a minute. I can't." He, with difficulty crossed one enormous
+leg over the other. "But I tell you what I will do," he volunteered
+conversationally.
+
+"What?"
+
+His voice was toneless.
+
+"I'll help you."
+
+For a second she did not move. "You--you'll help?" she choked.
+
+"Sure."
+
+"H-h-help me to clear Tim?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+She faced him then, her face flushed and radiant, the light of
+happiness flaming from her fine eyes. "Jim Hanvey!" she said, "I love
+you for that!"
+
+He fidgeted in embarrassment. "It is kinder funny--a detective workin'
+for a crook. But it's something I've always wanted to do. Of course, I
+mightn't be of any help----"
+
+"You will, Jim. You will. Oh! it's wonderful. I've been so alone----"
+
+"Aw! dry up, Sister. It's my job to nab the whole bunch of you when
+you've done something to be nabbed for. But I like you--every one of
+you--and I'm damned if I can sit back and see you go up for something
+you didn't do. Specially when you've been double-crossed by an honest
+man."
+
+And long after she and little Pauline had disappeared beyond the
+traffic of Central Park West, long after gray dusk had merged gently
+into velvet night, long after the shrill playcalls of children had been
+superseded by the low-toned dialogue of occasional passing couples and
+the insistent, rhythmic _k-chnk, k-chnk_ of oarlocks from the adjacent
+lake--long after all of that Jim Hanvey sat upon his park bench and
+mused upon the vagaries of circumstance.
+
+Jim Hanvey had experienced a long, a colorful, a varied career. Now,
+for the first time, he found himself embarked upon a professional
+enterprise on behalf of a criminal, the object of his attack being
+a person in that class of society for which men such as Jim Hanvey
+served as bulwark.
+
+The situation was bizarre--rather outrageously so, but it held an
+irresistible appeal to Jim. He was a lonely man who counted his
+friends among those whom he professionally hunted. The better class of
+criminals knew Jim and liked him. They outwitted him if they could--but
+they played straight with him, just as he did with them. To most of
+them it was a source of wonderment that he had not long since joined
+their ranks. In answer to their frank questionings he invariably
+returned an answer astounding in its simple logic----
+
+"A feller is either born crooked or straight. I was born
+straight--that's all. You can't blame me for that any more than I can
+blame you for bein' crooked."
+
+But now he was to attain the unspoken ambition of many years: he
+was to expend his talents in an effort to free one of his criminal
+friends from an unjust charge. Let Tim Lannigan serve his time for
+smuggling--he was guilty. But Jim had checked up on Mary's story and
+knew that she had spoken the truth. That being the case it behooved
+him to see that Tim served a sentence for what he had done and was
+extricated from the predicament into which he had blundered.
+
+That he had undertaken a task of no mean proportions was plain to him.
+In this particular matter the position of Noah Lathrop was impregnable.
+There was no possible proof that Lathrop had connived with Walter
+Yeager to purchase the stolen gems. There was even less proof that Noah
+had hired Tim to do the smuggling. Certainly there was no chance to
+enlist the services of Walt Yeager. It wasn't Walt's fault, anyway. He
+had played fair with both Tim and Lathrop by the tenets of the criminal
+code. It was unfortunate that Lathrop had betrayed Tim--but it was too
+much to expect that Walt would do anything so absurdly quixotic as to
+confess to the robbery in order to save Lannigan. And there wasn't even
+an outside chance to convict Yeager of the original theft.
+
+Mary Lannigan had the correct idea. A man as crooked as Lathrop
+had shown himself to be in this instance had been crooked before.
+He would be crooked again. He had indicated that he was moulded of
+conscienceless stuff. Somewhere in his past there must be a skeleton
+which he would not care to have displayed. And in order to prevent that
+display he might even be willing to confess his guilt as a smuggling
+accessory. In that way--and in that way alone--Tim Lannigan could be
+saved from facing trial--and certain conviction--for the crime which he
+had not committed.
+
+Jim first of all boarded the Southern for Atlanta where he had two long
+and earnest conversations with Tim Lannigan. Tim's story verified that
+of Mary in every way. The big, handsome, red-headed crook was pitifully
+embarrassed at the knowledge that Jim was working for him. Too, he made
+no attempt to conceal his emotion at tidings of Mary's activity in his
+behalf. Jim found him bitter against Lathrop and not at all so against
+Walt Yeager. "Poor Walt! He was crossed up pretty near as bad as I was.
+And he's flat now. Gosh! To think of getting away with a job like that
+and then have a falldown. It's tough!"
+
+"Sure is," agreed Jim.
+
+Acquainting himself with Noah Lathrop's personality without meeting
+that gentleman was a more difficult undertaking. He made occasion
+to be near him two or three times when Lathrop was unconscious of
+the sleepy-eyed surveillance. Jim found Lathrop a rather undersized,
+slender man of obtrusive pomposity and disagreeable manner. He spoke in
+a loud, nasal voice which carried unpleasantly a considerable distance
+and his utterances were all dogmatic. Jim found his Great-I-Am attitude
+annoying and at the same time amusing. There was a laughable similarity
+between father and daughter. Jim could well fancy the boast of the
+man----
+
+"I pay four thousand a year for my apartment on the Drive and I
+maintain three cars." Jim's big fingers fumbled with the gold
+toothpick. Somehow, it seemed a little less vulgar than Pauline had led
+him to believe.
+
+Jim held frequent conferences with Mary Lannigan. She had nothing to
+report but there was no lessening of confidence or determination. He
+was amused by her grim defiance--the indomitable will to power behind
+the masklike manners and pretty, girlish face. No wonder the smugly
+complacent Noah Lathrop was unsuspicious of the dynamite within his
+house; to all appearances Mary was merely an innoculously pretty young
+woman temporarily engaged in the nursing profession--against the day
+when she would be carried off to wife by some six-foot truck driver.
+
+"I know I'm right, Jim. The man's rotten all the way through--and he
+handled this affair in a way which proves that it aint the first time
+he's pulled something. Sometimes when I watch him I get mad enough to
+scream--I can imagine him chuckling to himself about his cleverness.
+Not a thought for the man who he thinks is going to do the long stretch
+in France." Her teeth clicked suddenly. "Oh! what's the use of letting
+myself get all worked up? I guess my game is to lay low and keep
+grinning."
+
+"You said it, Sister. And when you get something on him--talk it over
+with me. We'll make him dance a hornpipe."
+
+She looked up gratefully into his expressionless eyes. "You can do
+that, Jim. Until you promised to help I was only a crook without a
+chance. I didn't know what I was going to do when I found what I was
+hunting."
+
+Jim shrugged. "It's you who's got to do the discoverin', Mary. Just
+keep those bright eyes wide open----"
+
+"I sure ain't gonna do nothin' else."
+
+"--And let me know every least little thing that goes on. Listen in on
+his dining room conversation all you can. A feller as stuck on himself
+as that bimbo--an' as crazy about hearin' himself talk--is certain to
+blab something around the house." Jim lighted a cigar. "He may even
+have some interestin' papers lyin' around."
+
+"No," she said with perfect candor, "I've searched everything. Even the
+safe."
+
+"Good." He rose heavily to his feet. "Keep it up, Sis. We've got all
+the time in the world, plus--an' the best thing we can do is to use it.
+By the way, how's my little friend Pauline?"
+
+The girl made a wry face. "Ugh! Nasty little minx."
+
+"Huh!" grinned Jim, "think what she'll be like at forty."
+
+A fortnight dragged by. Jim busied himself with routine matters
+without, however, allowing the main focus of his attention to waver
+from the Lannigan matter. Occasionally he made it a point to meet Mary
+in the park. She had nothing to tell him and he talked things over
+with her only for her own sake--to keep her courage and optimism keyed
+to the proper pitch. There was something heroic in her doggedness. He
+shook his head in wonderment at the thought that until recently she had
+been playing a lone hand--just as grim, just as determined--"I sort of
+reckon," he mused, "that she sort of might be what you'd call kinder
+crazy about that Tim Lannigan."
+
+It was not until another week had passed that anything happened. It was
+early October and the air was chill with the portent of coming winter.
+Jim Hanvey was sprawled on the lounge in the untidy living room of his
+apartment reading the pugilistic news in a current sporting weekly.
+The air was fetid with the odor of his vile cigar, his stockinged feet
+were cocked upon the table and he had allowed his flowered suspenders
+to drop comfortably about his tremendous waist. It was a considerable
+effort to answer the summons of the telephone and his voice was none
+too gentle----
+
+"Hey! Hello! What you ringin' so much about?"
+
+"Jim? This is Mary."
+
+His expression altered like magic. He caught the nuance of excitement
+in her carefully modulated tones.
+
+"Yeh?"
+
+"Are you alone?"
+
+"Entirely."
+
+"Can I come up--now?"
+
+"You tell 'em. I'll fix it with the telephone boy so's he won't start
+no scandal."
+
+A half hour later she was with him. She threw open the window despite
+his protest. His eyes were fixed steadily upon the attractive vividity
+of her face. Then he yawned and appeared to sink into an indifferent
+lethargic doze. It was only when she had drawn up a chair and placed
+her hands on his arm that the sleepy eyes uncurtained with an
+indication of interest.
+
+"A'right, Sister--shoot."
+
+She found difficulty in selecting a starting point, and when she
+did eventually speak it was with an incoherence which was rather
+unusual--"He's slipping, Jim--and I'm watching."
+
+"You don't say."
+
+"Yes--I do. I knew it would come ... if I just watched close enough.
+Of course I've had to keep pretty much out of the way and I haven't
+learned all that I might, but--"
+
+"At that," interjected Jim dryly, "you learned a heap more an' a heap
+faster than I am now."
+
+She laughed--a semi-hysterical little quaver--and pulled herself
+together. "Jim, Noah Lathrop is up to something."
+
+Jim nodded in satisfaction. "Good."
+
+"He's had a visitor at the house for the last two evenings. Who do you
+think it is?"
+
+"How many guesses do I get?"
+
+Her eyes burned into his, her voice trembled. "Teddy Nelson!"
+
+Jim nodded ponderously and, although his expression lost none of its
+impassivity, his tone indicated a lively interest.
+
+"Teddy Nelson, eh?"
+
+"Yes--Teddy. And they're talking turkey."
+
+"Teddy usually does."
+
+The girl sat back and inspected the bovine face of the detective. "You
+got any recent suspicions of Teddy?"
+
+Jim's head inclined. "Have you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What?"
+
+Unconsciously, she lowered her tone. "He's got the Rawlings' pearls."
+
+Jim yawned with his eyes. "Right the first time, Sis. You take the head
+of the class."
+
+"You knew?"
+
+"Sure. An' I ain't the only dick which does. They've been watchin'
+Teddy ever since them pearls were stolen. The only reason they didn't
+nab him long ago was because they didn't know where he had 'em
+cache'd--it wasn't gonna do 'em a bit of good to grab Teddy unless they
+got the pearls, too."
+
+She shook her head slowly--"I didn't know they suspected Teddy of that
+job...."
+
+"There ain't but a half dozen men in the country could of done it,"
+explained Jim, "an' Teddy was the only one with a perfect alibi, so
+they knew it was him. But it ain't Teddy they're after--it's the stuff."
+
+"So-o ... and you think he's trying to sell 'em to Lathrop?"
+
+"It's a cinch. He can't sell 'em nowhere's else. There ain't a fence
+would dare handle 'em and the easiest way they could be put on the
+market would be through a first class wholesale jewelry house. Yeh--I
+reckon Mr. Noah Lathrop is just about aimin' to slip his head into a
+noose."
+
+The girl rose to her feet and paced the room. "It's the first thing
+I've discovered ... I wish I thought he'd dare buy those things--I wish
+we could catch him with the goods."
+
+Jim's toneless voice came as though from another room. "You keep those
+eyes of your'n peeled, Mary. If he's gone this far with the deal the
+chances are he'll go through. An' if you can get wise to the hour when
+they pull it I'll be on hand...."
+
+"You think they'll do it at home?"
+
+"Surest thing you know. A guy as keen as Lathrop ain't riskin' a deal
+like that in his office; he wouldn't even let Teddy come there if he
+knew what he was comin' for. Yeh, Sis, I reckon they'll put it through
+at home. So all you got to do is watch an' keep me posted."
+
+"And what will you do?"
+
+"My durndest--that's all I can promise."
+
+"That's more than enough, Jim--a heap more than enough."
+
+Jim flushed slightly--"Don't you go countin' on me too strong. You can
+remember at least one case where I fell down something awful an' there
+ain't no certainty I won't flop this one."
+
+Mary had the grace to blush. "I'm sorry about that, Jim."
+
+"Ah gwan! I ain't. It was a pleasure to have you put it over me. Say,
+listen--some day I want the low-down on that, Mary."
+
+The girl departed and then for three days he heard nothing from her. On
+the fourth day she telephoned him to meet her in Central Park.
+
+"Teddy was there again last night."
+
+"Sure enough?"
+
+"Yes--for three hours. And this morning I heard Mr. Lathrop breaking a
+dinner engagement he had for to-night."
+
+"So you sort of reckon maybe to-night's the night?"
+
+"Yes.... I'm pretty sure it's an attempt to sell Lathrop the Rawlings'
+pearls. I did a bit of listening last night and I heard something of
+what they were saying--about having the cash there.... I guess poor
+Teddy is glad to get them off his hands at any price."
+
+"Yeh--I reckon he is. They ain't nothin' now but a li'bility. Hmm!
+Reckon I better stick around this evenin'."
+
+They put their heads together then in an earnest discussion of details.
+And when Jim rose heavily to his feet a half hour later and waddled
+away through the trees the girl looked after him with an expression
+which would have brought a warm glow to the sentimental heart of the
+big detective had he glimpsed it. Somehow the sun seemed to shine with
+unusual friendliness that afternoon upon the slim figure of the girl
+in the nurse's uniform, and she felt suddenly very close to her big,
+handsome husband in the Atlanta prison.
+
+She had never quite recovered from her amazement at Jim's position in
+this case. She had always liked Jim but the idea that he might some
+day assist her--a professional criminal--in a matter involving the
+possible freeing of her criminal husband--had been beyond the realm of
+possibility.
+
+True, thus far Jim had done very little and that little with his
+customary modest unobtrusiveness. His chief aid had been in moral
+support, in a willingness to talk things over. What had really been
+accomplished had been the result of her own unremitting vigilance ...
+but the hour was approaching when Jim was to play a leading rôle. At
+the moment of dénouement she would have been sadly handicapped without
+him--and she knew it, for there was no possible chance of publicity
+without an airing of her own unsavory reputation.
+
+With Jim as an ally all was different. The very knowledge that he was
+helping her imparted a strength and a courage far beyond anything she
+had theretofore experienced. And he had promised to be watching from
+across the street that night--to be awaiting her signal.
+
+Darkness settled early over the Drive, a deep, cloudy darkness
+punctured by the faint twinkling of lights from the Jersey shore,
+the sparkle of apartment house windows, glaring arrows of brilliance
+from the head-lamps of speeding automobiles and lumbering busses.
+From a window in the Lathrop apartment Mary Lannigan fancied that she
+could discern the overlarge figure of Jim Hanvey bulking in the gloom
+across the way. She returned to her own little cubbyhole of a room and
+waited--waited, it seemed, for an eternity.
+
+And eventually there came the ringing of a telephone and Lathrop
+himself answered. She heard his voice bidding the operator to send
+the gentleman up. A few minutes later Lathrop opened the door of his
+apartment and then Mary heard footsteps in the hallway and she opened
+her door in time to see Lathrop and Teddy Nelson disappear into the
+library.
+
+Jaw firm and eyes steady, Mary Lannigan proceeded with meticulous care.
+Fortunately, Mrs. Lathrop was out that evening--"Gadding about like she
+always does ..." and the butler was attending to affairs of his own.
+Mary had been left in charge of the complacently sleeping Pauline. She
+crept to the door of the library and applied an ear to the keyhole.
+
+From inside came the wellnigh unintelligible murmur of voices.
+Occasionally one or the other of the men would become argumentative. It
+was plain that they were bargaining. Mary fancied that she could see
+the long-sought-for string of Rawlings pearls through the keyhole ...
+and once she fancied that she heard the rustle of new paper money.
+
+It was then that she went to a front window and, using an electric
+torch, flashed to Jim Hanvey the agreed signal. She tiptoed into
+Pauline's room and assured herself that the child was sleeping soundly.
+Then into the hallway again to resume her vigil.
+
+After an interminable wait there came a light tapping on the door. She
+opened it softly and admitted the mammoth detective.
+
+"Goshamighty," he whispered, "that boy downstairs didn't want to let me
+come up." He patted her shoulder reassuringly. "How's tricks?"
+
+She detailed developments in a voice barely above a whisper. He nodded
+ponderous approval. "Fine stuff. Here's where ol' sleuth gits in his
+dirty work, ain't it?"
+
+She designated the library door. "What'll I do, Jim?"
+
+"Just stick around to look after the remains--if any."
+
+"You're not expecting anything rough?"
+
+"Naw.... Teddy ain't that kind unless he's changed a lot. But I'm gonna
+stage an awful play just to see whether a feller which owns three
+automobiles can turn green."
+
+She led him to the door and then withdrew into the shadows of an
+adjacent room. Jim patted down the ill-fitting coat which hung so
+grotesquely around his girthful figure and rapped once upon the door.
+
+For a dramatic instant he stood motionless, then flung open the door
+and entered--blinking like a monster owl in the brilliant light.
+
+Before him was an interesting tableau. Lathrop, motionless, was bending
+across the table inspecting a string of magnificent matched oriental
+pearls. Beside him was a pile of crisp, new one-hundred dollar bills.
+His lean, rather saturnine, face, still reflected the avarice of a
+moment since although an expression of stark terror was now slowly
+robbing him of his naturally aggressive unpleasantness.
+
+Opposite sat Teddy Nelson--suave, dapper, perfectly at ease. Nelson's
+experienced eyes rested briefly upon the intruder and a close observer
+could have noticed the visible effort with which he pulled himself
+together. Too, it was Nelson who broke the portentous silence. That
+insouciant criminal rose to his feet, bowed with exaggerated politeness
+and spoke in a quiet conversational tone--
+
+"Mr. Hanvey--this is indeed a pleasure."
+
+Jim was enjoying himself thoroughly. He produced a pink silk
+handkerchief and mopped his forehead. "'Lo Teddy."
+
+Nelson waved a comprehensive hand toward Lathrop, the pearls and the
+money. As yet the astounded jewelry importer had not moved; he sat
+staring in bewilderment from one to the other.
+
+"You will notice, Jim," said Nelson, "that you have nothing on me.
+My host is in possession of the money and also of the pearls which I
+presume you are seeking."
+
+Hanvey grinned. "You're a hard egg, Teddy."
+
+"You are hunting for some pearls, are you not, Jim?"
+
+"I are."
+
+"Well--in all probability you have them. I am willing to explain, Jim,
+that I never saw those pearls before--I'm as positive of that as I am
+that I shall never see them again." He made a rueful little grimace.
+"Business is pretty rotten these days."
+
+Lathrop was getting a grip on himself. He rose unsteadily and addressed
+the detective. "Who are you?"
+
+The suggestion of a sneer wreathed Nelson's lips. "You're a pretty
+good little staller yourself, Lathrop."
+
+"What are you talking about?"
+
+All sign of amusement departed from Teddy Nelson's face. He whirled
+furiously upon Lathrop. "You know damn good and well what I'm talking
+about. You trapped me into your apartment and brought a dick here--all
+right, so much for that. You thought you'd have me with the goods and
+you'd get the glory of having nabbed me. Why you poor fish, they've
+been after me for six months for this little job. They've laid off
+because they didn't know where the pearls were. They've got 'em
+now--but by God! they didn't catch 'em on me. They're in your hands.
+You've got the money. I'm broke. There ain't a piece of evidence
+against me. And Jim Hanvey is square. I'm asking him to make you prove
+that _you_ didn't steal those jewels."
+
+Lathrop stammered. He stared first at Nelson, then at the lethargic
+Hanvey. "A--a detective?" he muttered.
+
+"Uh-huh." It was Jim who answered. "A regular, honest-to-Gawd
+detective." He flashed his badge and strode over to the table. He
+inspected the pearls briefly. "It's that Rawlings' stuff, ain't it,
+Teddy?"
+
+Nelson shook his head. "You can't prove anything by me, Jim. Say
+listen--" he became very earnest. "Did this half-size imitation of a
+cigar clerk double-cross me?"
+
+Jim shook his head slowly. "No-o. Not hardly. Because when you stop
+to consider things--that would have been a bum play for him. Y'see,
+Teddy, we've been watchin' this bird a long time--he was sort of mixed
+up in that Tim Lannigan affair and we figured he was worth lookin'
+after. An' we knew you had the Rawlings' stuff. So when you and him
+got together we figured that two and two was pullin' their usual act.
+Y'see, we've got you, Teddy, for the Rawlings job--while all we send
+Lathrop to jail for is receivin' stolen goods."
+
+Lathrop tried to speak--and could not. His mouth opened and
+closed--then opened and closed again. His Adam's-apple bobbed
+alarmingly. His voice, when it did come, was shrill with hysteria--
+
+"It's a lie--a lie! I don't know anything about this man. I don't know
+anything about Lannigan. What he said I did was true--I was trying to
+prove that he stole these jewels."
+
+"The dirty liar...."
+
+"Lay off, Teddy," advised Jim. Then, to Lathrop--"You might as well
+come clear, buddy. I know how much money there is in that little pile
+and I know what bank you drew it from and at what time this morning. I
+know, too, that this ain't the first time you've pulled a stunt like
+this--but I know it's gonna be the last. Now Teddy, if you come clean
+I'll see that things are made light for you--light as I can have 'em
+made. Give me the low-down on the job."
+
+Nelson eyed the detective levelly. "Straight, Jim?"
+
+"Here's my hand on it. No promises--only the best I can do for you."
+
+"Well," Nelson cleared his throat, "in that case I'd better come clean.
+There ain't no use confessing that I stole them pearls off old man
+Rawlings about a year ago. You know that an' the insurance company
+detectives know it. They knew it so well that there wasn't a chance for
+me to dispose of them through the regular channels, so when I heard
+that Lathrop was inclined to use his position as an honorable man to
+get away with an occasional dirty little job, I went to him and offered
+to sell and sell cheap--"
+
+"No! It isn't true...." Lathrop's face was pitiful. "Nelson, please!
+This will all be used against you."
+
+"Sure--sure. And it'll be used against you, too," explained Jim
+casually.
+
+Lathrop cowered as Nelson continued the story of their negotiations.
+When he finished Hanvey returned his attention to the figure of the
+terrified jeweler.
+
+"My family--my child--my business--"
+
+"You're a fine slice of limburger," complimented Jim. "I suppose you've
+been weeping your eyes out thinking about Tim Lannigan, haven't you?"
+
+"Lannigan?"
+
+"Yes--Lannigan, the lad you double-crossed--got him to try an' smuggle
+in stuff that he didn't know was stolen. Well, you're clear of the
+Lannigan case but we'll make you sweat for this. Ten years, maybe."
+
+"Please ... for God's sake--anything but that--"
+
+Jim regarded him steadily. "Tim Lannigan is a good friend of mine,
+Lathrop. One of the best friends I have. It just occurs to me that we
+might make a little deal.... Interested?"
+
+"Yes. Yes. Go on."
+
+"Well--all we've been after in this Rawlings affair is the stuff.
+We don't care particularly about sending Teddy Nelson up. And since
+we've got the pearls ... how about this: You sit down there and sign
+a confession that you hired Tim Lannigan to smuggle in those jewels.
+You can say that you didn't know they were stolen--that it was simply
+a job on your part to beat the customs. That'll be proof enough that
+Tim didn't know they were stolen--and, of course, proof that he wasn't
+mixed up in the original robbery which'll keep him from serving twenty
+years or so in a French prison for something he didn't do."
+
+Jim paused. He fancied that he could hear the rustling of skirts in the
+hallway. Lathrop looked up pleadingly--
+
+"What can they do to me for that?"
+
+"They can give you two years in the Federal prison--same as they did
+Lannigan. But they probably won't. They did that to Lannigan because he
+was known as a professional crook. You'll most likely get off with a
+heavy fine--and it'll clear Tim of that French stuff."
+
+"Are you telling me the truth?"
+
+Teddy Nelson broke in, somewhat explosively--"Hell! Jim Hanvey ain't no
+liar."
+
+"You can choose," explained Jim easily, "between that and a certain
+long stretch for this Rawlings affair."
+
+Lathrop looked up piteously. "I'll do it," he said at length. "Tell me
+what to write."
+
+Hanvey dictated slowly and carefully, and when he was finished he
+summoned Mary Lannigan to whom he read the confession. Then, with Mary
+as a witness, Noah Lathrop signed.
+
+The following day Jim accompanied Mary Lannigan to the Pennsylvania
+Station whence she departed for Atlanta to break the gladsome news to
+her husband. She was tearfully grateful--"Aw! stow it, Sister--I didn't
+do a darn thing except have a little fun...."
+
+From the train he went to an unpretentious hotel in the West Fifties
+where, a few moments later, he found himself alone with Teddy Nelson.
+
+Teddy was very much at ease. He waved his hand airily--"Have a seat,
+Jim. Make yourself comfortable." Then, defensively--"But leave that
+nickel-plated cigar case in your pocket. I don't mind talking to a
+detective but I'm not willing to smell his cigars."
+
+Jim ignored the request. And as the first horrid blast of cigar smoke
+assailed Teddy, Jim vouchsafed a bit of information--
+
+"I fixed it for you, Teddy. Saw Simpson and Clarke this morning--gave
+'em the pearls. They were so tickled it was a cinch getting them to
+promise to lay off you."
+
+Nelson sighed relievedly. "Great stuff, Jim. I've been hanging on to
+those things for a year--knowing that I didn't have a chance to get rid
+of 'em, and hating to heave 'em in the river. Now they're safely gone
+and I've helped a pal. Gee!" he smiled--"I'll bet Tim is gonna be happy
+when he hears the news."
+
+"You tell 'em, Teddy. But not near as happy as Mary was when things
+come out all right. She sure done wonders for Tim--"
+
+"Wonders, me eye. It was you who did it all, Jim. Wasn't it you who
+came to me in the first place and suggested that I approach Lathrop on
+this deal? Didn't you wise me up to the whole works and show me how
+it'd be a better thing for everybody--me included? Mary did her part
+all right, Jim--but the whole idea of my selling those pearls to Noah
+Lathrop was yours--any thanks that Tim Lannigan is handing out is due
+you. And I'm going to tell him so."
+
+Jim regarded him gravely. "You're gonna keep your mouth shut, Teddy.
+Shut tight. One yawp out of you to either Tim or Mary about that and
+by gosh! I'll turn you and Lathrop both up. Which might not be so
+hard on you, Teddy--but would be hell on Lathrop--him owning three
+automobiles."
+
+
+
+
+                          THE KNIGHT'S GAMBIT
+
+
+Jim Hanvey posed pridefully before the triple mirrors. He hitched his
+trousers one notch higher, affectionately patted the lapels of his
+new coat and carefully adjusted the cerise necktie. Then he faced the
+covertly grinning clerk and his voice held that beatific nuance with
+which a small boy calls attention to the magnificence of his first
+baseball uniform.
+
+"Swell, ain't it?" queried Jim.
+
+The clerk, a dapper little fellow who was garbed according to the
+dictates of the latest fashion folder, was professionally enthusiastic.
+"Perfect, Sir. You never looked better in your life." Under his breath
+he added a fervent: "And that aint no lie."
+
+Jim delighted himself with a further survey of his mirrored self. And,
+in truth, whatever the ensemble might have lacked from an esthetic
+standpoint it more than atoned in brilliancy.
+
+The enormous and pudgy figure of the detective was enfolded in a
+new and ill-fitting suit of near tweeds. A pink silk shirt was
+stretched tightly over the upper portion of his anatomy. A collar of
+inconsequential height but amazing girth encased the vivid tie. Below
+the trouser cuffs was a brief expanse of white sox which topped a pair
+of peak-toed russet shoes. Above Jim's collar flopped twin chins which
+bounded on the south a countenance of bovine heaviness. The whole
+was topped by a new gray felt hat which seemed in constant danger of
+tobogganing from the crest of the bulbous head.
+
+Jim Hanvey's tiny, fishlike eyes held a gleam of self-approval. Then,
+as he inspected himself, they closed slowly, held shut for a moment,
+and uncurtained with even greater deliberateness. His big hands were
+elevated idly until the fingers found the elaborate golden toothpick
+which hung suspended from the heavy chain connecting the upper vest
+pockets. His chest inflated and a sigh escaped his pursy lips--"I've
+been wantin' an outfit like this for a mighty long time," he commented.
+"An' I just never sort of come around to gettin' it."
+
+The clerk discreetly lowered his head to scribble hieroglyphics on a
+sales pad. "Anything else, Sir?" he interrogated meekly.
+
+"No-o. Don't believe there is.... Oh! yes--a silk handkerchief."
+
+That article was purchased and Jim fitted it with meticulous care into
+the breast pocket of his coat so that the pink edging was displayed to
+weirdest advantage. "How much does it amount to, Son?"
+
+"Seventy-two, fifty."
+
+Jim whistled. "Gosh! Swell clothes sure do come high." Reluctantly
+he extracted a battered wallet. "Here y'are. I want my other clothes
+sent to the hotel." Then, with pitiful eagerness, "I couldn't look no
+better, could I?"
+
+"No," answered the clerk with perfect candor. "You surely couldn't."
+
+Jim Hanvey departed. He walked with the peculiarly stiff and
+self-conscious gait inevitably attendant upon the wearing of new
+clothes. His big shoes creaked with every step. His expression was
+one of radiant self-satisfaction. For years he had craved an orgy of
+new-clothes purchasing and now that the exigencies of his profession
+had furnished an adequate excuse he had done himself exceeding proud.
+
+He entered a suburban street car and sat stiffly in his seat
+misinterpreting the amusement of the other passengers for envy. It
+never occurred to Jim that his clothes were in shockingly bad taste
+or that his appearance was grotesque. He was a simple and lonely soul
+with the male's innate love of bright colors and flaring finery rampant
+within him, his desires untempered by the inhibitions of culture. He
+loved the flagrant and flamboyant in dress and secretly harbored an
+ambition to carry a cane. He owned two but thus far in his career they
+had remained cloistered. He had never quite mustered sufficient courage
+to drag one of them into the street. But some day....
+
+Forty minutes later the street car reached the end of its run and Jim
+alighted. The suburb silently proclaimed the opulence of its residents.
+Wide, tree-shaded streets bounded by broad, velvety lawns behind which
+hugely handsome residences reared their architecturally perfect forms;
+gardens which paid flowering tribute to landscape experts; sinuously
+winding driveways, spurting fountains, cleanly clipped hedges. An
+atmosphere of forbidding and exclusive wealth. Parked by the curbs were
+limousines of the more expensive makes. Early that morning Jim Hanvey
+would have felt ill-at-ease in the neighborhood. Now, resplendent in
+his new regalia, he believed serenely that he fitted comfortably into
+the picture. His manner was that of the man who belongs. He regretted
+that he had not bought a cane: a heavy, gold-headed cane. Or, perhaps,
+a man of his mammoth physical proportions would better carry a malacca
+stick--one of the slender, whippy ones....
+
+He sought information from a disdainful chauffeur as to which of these
+estates was the property of Mr. Theodore Weston. But even with the
+confidence begotten of his magnificent raiment he hesitated briefly
+before turning up the walkway which led from the street to the massive
+brownstone mansion nestling far back behind a screen of elms, poplars
+and shrubbery. There was something about the Weston estate which seemed
+to elevate it above even its formidable neighbors; a mute announcement
+of conscious superiority; a formal indifference; an air of casualness
+such as that affected by the young girl who spends an hour before her
+mirror carefully arranging her hair in the most attractive way. Jim
+experienced difficulty in conceiving this palatial place as a home.
+It wasn't at all Jim's idea of what a home should be. His own tastes
+inclined to a six-room bungalow set level with the street and perhaps
+twenty feet back from the sidewalk where a chap could loll of an
+evening in his shirt sleeves and suspenders with his feet cocked up on
+the porch railing and the potted geraniums only slightly obstructing
+his vision.
+
+He moved stiffly up the elm-sentinelled walkway to the broad and
+imposing veranda which spanned the palace of the industrial king,
+meticulously scraped a bit of mud from his new shoes, tiptoed to the
+front door and somewhat timorously pressed the button. Like magic the
+door swung back and a butler appeared.
+
+"Mr. Weston home?"
+
+The butler's forehead corrugated slightly. His face lost some of the
+fixed rigidity of expression natural to it. He surveyed the visitor
+with an admixture of bewilderment and insolence.
+
+"Yes."
+
+Jim fidgeted nervously. The butler maintained an uncompromising
+silence--which Jim eventually terminated.
+
+"Tell him Jim Hanvey wants to see him."
+
+"Hmm! Your card, please."
+
+Jim fumbled wildly. "Gosh! I left my card in my other suit." He jerked
+his thumb in apologetic explanation. "Just tell him it's Jim Hanvey and
+everything'll be jake."
+
+The butler disappeared in the cavernous recesses of the mansion leaving
+the monster detective thoroughly ill-at-ease. In a few moments he
+returned, expression slightly altered. "Right this way, Sir."
+
+Hanvey followed. Their feet were soundless on the rich rugs. Jim was
+left alone in the dim, lavishly comfortable confines of the library. He
+seated himself on the lounge, hitched up his trousers at the knees to
+preserve the crease, and waited.
+
+Less than five minutes later Weston appeared. He was a thin, undersized
+man with a peculiarly high forehead and deep cavernous eyes. His step
+was mincing but his manner betokened a wealth of nervous energy. He
+paused on the threshold and stared with ill-concealed amazement at the
+unwieldy figure which rose from the lounge to greet him.
+
+It was a case of mutual surprise. Jim Hanvey had been prepared to meet
+a towering, aggressive, physically powerful individual--a man whose
+physique was in consonance with his reputation in the industrial world.
+For Jim knew that Weston was all-powerful: fair but ruthless, a hard
+fighter and a game one. The little man in the doorway was rather of the
+lounge-lizard type....
+
+As for Weston he could not believe that this mammoth individual who
+bulked before him was the person who had been recommended as the best
+detective in the country. Jim was not at all of the detective type. His
+new raiment accentuated the flabbiness of the form, intensified the
+general impression of lethargic indifference and general unfitness.
+And so the two men stared, each struggling to readjust in a moment his
+preconceived idea of the other. It was the financier who spoke first,
+his voice snapping with a peculiar steely timbre not at all in accord
+with his diminutive size.
+
+"Mr. Hanvey?"
+
+"Yeh.... Mr. Weston?"
+
+"I am Mr. Weston."
+
+"Mr. Theodore Weston?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Gosh...." Jim paused suddenly. Weston stared intently.
+
+"Say it," he prompted.
+
+"You're a runt," proferred Jim. "I thought I was gonna meet a big
+feller."
+
+"And you," countered Weston, "look more like a side-show freak than a
+detective."
+
+"You said it. I never was awful strong on looks an' my figger never
+caused me to be mistook for no sylph."
+
+They stood facing one another in the subdued light of the library. Jim
+covertly straightened his tie and patted his new coat. Jim was very
+well pleased with himself. He wondered whether this man had noticed his
+new suit--
+
+"Nice suit of clothes you've got on, Mr. Weston."
+
+"Eh?" The smaller man was startled. "Oh! Thank you."
+
+"You're welcome." Jim hesitated. "I'm awful strong for swell clothes,
+aint you?"
+
+"I don't notice them much."
+
+Jim sighed disappointedly. "Thought not...."
+
+Weston motioned his visitor to a chair. He extracted from his desk a
+humidor of fragrant Havana cigars, and as he was doing so, Jim reached
+for a battered, near-silver cigar case which reposed in the inside
+pocket of his coat. Each extended his to the other. Jim's were short
+and fat and very, very black. Weston took one from the case and Jim
+accepted one from his host. Each sniffed at his gift, each made a
+poorly concealed wry face and each placed the cigar carefully beside
+him with the remark--"Smoke it later." Then each man lighted one of
+his own. As the fierce aroma of Jim's projectile assailed Weston's
+nostrils, the little man winced. But Jim did not notice. He was
+inexpressibly content with the strong fumes he generated. And so they
+smoked on as they chatted idly. Weston finally caused the conversation
+to veer to the subject.
+
+"You have been recommended to me, Mr. Hanvey, as the one man capable of
+helping me out of a dilemma. I cannot question the judgment of the men
+who have bespoken you."
+
+"Fine. That's awful nice of you, Mr. Weston."
+
+"I'll admit--" honestly "--that I am somewhat surprised by your
+appearance. This is a matter which requires infinite tact and delicacy.
+It's not--er--what you might call strong-arm work."
+
+"That's good," endorsed the detective. "I'm in awful poor trim."
+
+"It is, in fact, a problem such as detectives seldom meet with; an
+affair of diplomacy. It involves no particular moral turpitude. Yet
+the intervention and assistance of friends cannot aid me at all--which
+is why I have sought outside--and professional--help."
+
+"In other words," summarized Jim slowly, "somebody's tryin' to slip
+somethin' over on you."
+
+"Precisely. Not in a business way. That would be relatively easy
+to cope with. In entrusting you with this story I must impress
+upon you the necessity for strictest secrecy. My confidence must
+remain inviolate. As a matter of fact, I find myself excessively
+embarrassed.... I--I--scarcely know where to begin."
+
+"Hmm! An' you're doubtful about beginnin' at all, aint you, Mr. Weston?"
+
+"No. Not exactly. With the endorsement you have received from business
+associates of mine...."
+
+"You still think I look like such a slob I aint the man to show no
+finesse. Aint that it?"
+
+"You state it rather crudely, Mr. Hanvey, but you have hit the
+bull's-eye."
+
+"Well," Jim slumped in his chair. His eyes closed with maddening
+slowness--remained shut for a second--then opened even more slowly....
+"I'm willin' to do my best to help you out. But if you want me to enter
+a beauty contest, I guess we'd better call it off."
+
+"It isn't that, Mr. Hanvey. You see, the primary essential is that you
+come here as my guest for two or three weeks."
+
+"In this house? Gosh!"
+
+"That will be necessary."
+
+Hanvey deliberated. Once again he gave vent to the ocular yawn which
+interested--and somewhat exasperated--his host. "I reckon I'll have to
+put up with it then," he sighed.
+
+Weston smiled slightly. "I don't believe it will be as terrible as you
+anticipate. The--er--reimbursement in this affair, Mr. Hanvey, will be
+adequate. More than adequate, should you happen to be successful."
+
+Jim waved a pudgy hand. "Never mind that. I'll take a chance if you
+will."
+
+Again silence settled between them. Weston sat forward in his chair
+with his keen eyes glittering across the room. Finally he rose abruptly
+and stepped mincingly across the library to the window. Jim remained
+slouched on the lounge, apparently asleep. A miasma of rancid smoke
+hovered about his Brobdingnagian figure.
+
+The descending sun of early evening bathed the dapper figure of the
+little industrial giant in a soft, mellow light. He stood by the window
+staring out--at something--silent, intense, a bit morose. And finally
+he spoke without turning his head.
+
+"Hanvey?"
+
+"Yeh?"
+
+"Come here."
+
+Jim rose with a grunt and waddled across the room. His enormous bulk
+completely shadowed that of the smaller man. And now there had come a
+slight change in the atmosphere. Weston's use of Jim's last name and a
+sudden pathetic drooping of the narrow shoulders bespoke the fact that
+he had reconciled himself to his disappointment in Jim's appearance
+and was willing to place his trust in the big detective. He spoke in a
+sharp but toneless voice.
+
+"Look yonder," he directed, pointing down the winding, poplar-lined
+bridle path which twisted toward the house from a rich green valley
+beyond.
+
+Jim blinked slowly--and looked. His first impression was one of
+enthusiasm for the pastoral beauty of the scene: a gradual blending of
+formal gardening into the rich lusciousness of untrammelled nature; a
+gentle tinting of the gold of early evening; the silver of a brook in
+the valley below ... a wealth of color and of natural beauty.
+
+Then his fishlike eyes discerned two persons on horseback, a man
+and a woman, who were walking their mounts slowly toward the house.
+They rode close together and they were conversing with an absorption
+which made plain that the outside world did not exist for them. The
+girl had half-turned in her saddle in order that her eyes might feast
+unrestrainedly upon the man; while he, conscious of his power, was
+injecting the full wealth of an engaging personality into the task of
+holding her undivided attention.
+
+They approached slowly, the mounts scarce moving, and as they came
+closer something in the magnificent stature and military carriage of
+the man stirred memory in the mind of the obese detective. But before
+recognition came to him his attention was once more attracted to the
+girl.
+
+She was young--that much was evident even at the distance separating
+her from Jim. There was something about the slim, boyish figure;
+the artless eagerness with which she hung upon the words of her
+companion, which proclaimed extreme youth. And, too, the way she sat
+her horse--carelessly, easily, as though she belonged. The girl wore
+no hat, her rich brown hair was piled carelessly atop the exquisitely
+shaped head. Her left hand held the rein loosely, her right hung by her
+side. It held a riding crop which she twiddled aimlessly. Up through
+the poplar-lined bridle path they came ... the shadows spotting the
+roadway like the stippling of a pen-and-ink artist.
+
+"My daughter," said Weston simply and without turning. There was
+affection in his voice--and worry--and abounding pride. Jim responded
+to the tone with all the sincerity of his emotionful nature.
+
+"Swell-lookin' kid," was his comment.
+
+He turned his attention to the man, now limned in the glow of the late
+evening sun. He was a perfect foil for the girl; a figure of powerful,
+dominant masculine maturity offsetting her naïve girlishness. He wore
+an immaculate riding costume. He rode like a Centaur, swaying to the
+stride of his horse ... oblivious to everything save the girl by his
+side. He was talking, head inclined toward her. And then Jim recognized
+the man and he emitted a slow, amazed whistle. Theodore Weston turned.
+
+"You know him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+Jim favored the man with a prolonged scrutiny. It was scarcely
+possible ... but there was certitude in the tone with which he made
+answer to his host's question.
+
+"That's Whitey Kirk."
+
+"Who is Whitey Kirk?"
+
+"The cleverest con man in the world," was the answer, and there was a
+ring of professional admiration in his voice. "I didn't know he was a
+friend of yours--"
+
+"He isn't."
+
+"There ain't anything to be ashamed of if he is. Y'know I'm awful
+strong for Whitey--Warren is his real name--because of the fact that
+he is so good. For ten years that baby has been pullin' jobs, big
+jobs, wide-open jobs--and they've never fastened a thing on him. He's
+a wizard, that's what. He's tackled everything from stock swindling to
+smuggling and he's gotten away with it. I can't help liking a man with
+his brains and ability. And nerve--Oh! Mamma!"
+
+Weston walked heavily back to the table of black walnut which occupied
+the middle of the library. Jim followed slowly, and then, seeing that
+the attention of his host was not upon him, deftly exchanged the two
+cigars which lay upon the desk--so that his own vicious black one was
+once more in his possession. "Fair exchange," he told himself, "ain't
+always robbery."
+
+Absently Weston reached for the rich Havana which had thus been
+returned to him, lighted it, and puffed meditatively for a few moments.
+Hanvey slouched opposite in an easy chair, allowed his fat fingers to
+toy idly with the golden toothpick which hung from his cable-strength
+watch chain. He contemplated the little man, wondering what was coming,
+and, without knowing why, feeling a sense of sorrow and of personal
+responsibility.
+
+"That," said Weston suddenly, waving toward the window which they had
+just vacated, "is why I sent for you."
+
+"Yeh?"
+
+Silence. From outside came the crunch-crunch of horses' hoofs on the
+gravel driveway, the sound of a man's voice--and a girl's--then nothing
+save the soft sighing of the evening breeze through the trees which
+surrounded the stately home. It was Theodore Weston who punctured the
+silence--
+
+"What is this man's criminal record?"
+
+"He ain't got none. We know he's crooked, we even know most of what
+he's done. But we ain't ever been able to get the goods on him."
+
+"He's never been arrested?"
+
+"Nary time."
+
+"That will make it more difficult--very much more difficult. Perhaps
+too much so." He was silent for a moment, and then--with a sudden
+intensity which surprised Jim: "The man is a criminal, Mr. Hanvey. It
+shall be your task to prove it!"
+
+"Hmm!" Jim's glassy orbs closed--then opened--with exasperating
+leisureliness. "Why?"
+
+"Because--" and Jim liked the directness of Weston's speech, "that man
+is engaged to marry my daughter."
+
+"Gee!" commented Jim Hanvey. "That's tough."
+
+"It is worse than that--it is horrible. She is not quite eighteen years
+of age. He is--Oh! about forty I judge--"
+
+"Forty-one."
+
+"They met at Ormond Beach last year. We have a winter place there.
+My daughter is a golf enthusiast. This man, it seems, was down there
+playing golf--peculiar pastime for a criminal--"
+
+"Whitey's a gent."
+
+"Madge was injured one day on the links--struck by a golf ball on
+number ten fairway. She was stunned. Number ten is farthest removed
+from the clubhouse. This man Kirk was playing right behind her. He is
+a powerful fellow and he carried her to the clubhouse in his arms.
+From there she was taken home in a car which he provided. I thanked
+him and he introduced himself. It never occurred to me that he was
+not a gentleman. He told me he was a graduate of one of the large
+universities--"
+
+"He is."
+
+"--And we were all emotionally grateful at the time. We magnified
+the very simple favor which he had done for us. Certainly it never
+occurred to us to scrutinize too closely the very natural friendship
+which rapidly developed between him and my daughter. We didn't take
+it seriously--somehow a parent finds difficulty in appreciating the
+maturity of his own child.
+
+"We all liked him. His natural gentility was the only credential we
+asked. He and Madge were together everywhere: he appeared to be a
+man of means, culture and leisure. We fancied that he had a paternal
+interest in her. They golfed together, played tennis, swam, rode--a
+very delightful winter idyll. And the day Madge told her mother and
+me that she was engaged to marry this man--well, Mr. Hanvey, unless
+you're a father--and have received a shock through your child--a shock
+involving the happiness of that child--you cannot understand."
+
+Jim fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. The voice of his host rang
+with fierce bitterness.... "You sure are up against it, Weston."
+
+"I investigated him, suddenly realizing that Mrs. Weston and I had been
+criminally negligent. I was amazed by the fact that I knew nothing
+whatever of him save that he bore all the earmarks of a gentleman.
+He vouchsafed no personal information. I brought the family back
+north--and investigated further. The thing was horrible enough as
+it was--a seventeen-year-old-girl engaged to a man of forty. She
+wouldn't listen to reason.... I tried to be tactful in my handling of
+the situation. You see," simply, "I am worth a great many millions of
+dollars and it was only natural that I should be careful ... marrying
+for money, you know--"
+
+"Yeh--sure. I know."
+
+"As though the situation itself were not sufficiently bad, came the
+report that the man is a notorious criminal. I told Madge and she went
+straight to him with it. He laughed--said he had bitter enemies who
+were trying to injure him. Defied them to prove that he had ever been
+crooked. Suggested that they produce a prison record. Of course it
+couldn't be done. You can imagine the effect on an impressionable young
+girl--in love for the first time. She fancied him a persecuted man--she
+said flatly that she didn't believe a word of it and intended to stand
+by him...."
+
+"Good sport," breathed Jim heavily.
+
+"She is. Too good. I talked to him--straight from the shoulder.
+He gazed at me blandly and said that my accusations were false. I
+offered him his own price. He didn't even have the grace to get
+insulted--merely stated that he didn't have a price. Alleged that
+he was genuinely in love with Madge. I threatened him. He laughed.
+I ordered him never to see her again. He told me coldly that if I
+persisted in any such foolish course he'd induce her to elope with him.
+And finally, because it seemed the wisest thing to do, Mrs. Weston and
+I sanctioned a secret engagement, hoping against hope that the true
+nature of the beast would show--and Madge would be awakened.
+
+"It hasn't worked, Hanvey. She is more infatuated than ever. That's why
+you were recommended to me. They told me that you were the one person
+who might be of real assistance."
+
+Jim leaned forward in his chair. "Me? How can I help?"
+
+"I have been told that you know crooks better than any other man in the
+world. That you can work miracles with them--because you understand
+them. I ask you pointblank, Jim Hanvey--will you undertake the task of
+saving my daughter from this man?"
+
+Jim lighted a fresh cigar. Through the haze of rancid smoke he stared
+at the little financier. "I'll undertake it on one condition," he said
+slowly.
+
+"And that is--?"
+
+"--That I be allowed a free hand. Absolutely."
+
+"Done!"
+
+"Good. Remember, Weston, I'm liable to pull a bone--the chances
+are that I'll flunk it. Whitey Kirk is the cleverest crook on two
+continents. He's in soft here--awful soft. He ain't gonna let go easy.
+But if you're willin' for me to try--I'll try. If I flop--it won't be
+because I haven't done my damnedest."
+
+The smaller man rose, crossed the room and dropped a hand on Jim's fat
+shoulders. "You won't fail, Hanvey."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because," replied the other, "it means too much to Madge. If you're
+what they say you are--you'll put it over."
+
+Jim rose awkwardly. "I'll do my best. I'll have to stick around
+here for a week or two." He looked down upon his new and shrieking
+raiment--"Thank goodness I already bought a new suit. I'd hate to look
+like a bum in a swell joint like this."
+
+Twenty minutes later Jim Hanvey departed for the city in one of
+Weston's limousines. He lolled against the rich upholstery enjoying to
+the ultimate the luxury and uniqueness of the experience. At his modest
+and untidy apartment he swiftly packed a near-leather suitcase with
+those articles which he fancied would be essential to his new rôle of
+society butterfly. He left the apartment, entered the limousine for the
+return trip--then suddenly halted the chauffeur--"Just a minute, Buddy.
+I forgot something."
+
+He re-entered the building. When he returned to the car a few minutes
+later he nervously clasped the thing which he had forgotten.
+
+It was his light malacca cane.
+
+He reached the Weston home shortly before the dinner hour and was shown
+to his rooms; a bedroom, parlor and bath suite on the west wing of the
+mansion. He gazed apprehensively about and experienced more than a hint
+of trepidation. A valet arrived to inquire whether he might assist Mr.
+Hanvey to dress for dinner.
+
+"My Gawd, no!" roared Jim. "You'd make me feel downright bashful."
+
+In the living room he was introduced to Mrs. Weston, a sweet-faced and
+surprisingly young woman considerably larger than her husband. Mrs.
+Weston pressed Jim's hands as she wished him well. "Theodore says
+you'll succeed, Mr. Hanvey ... he says he knows you will."
+
+"He's an awful wise guy."
+
+"You don't know what it means to us."
+
+"The heck I don't. Believe me, Mis' Weston--I know a heap about this.
+An' say--if it ain't impolite to ask--how long is it before we eat?"
+
+It was in the library immediately preceding dinner that the detective
+met Whitey Kirk. That gentleman, tall and broad and handsomely
+debonaire in his dinner jacket, strolled into the room puffing on a
+cigarette. He paused and stared through the semi-gloom toward the large
+and strange figure in the outrageous clothes. The figure moved forward
+and, as though from a distance, Whitey heard the voice of his future
+father-in-law--"... my friend Mr. Hanvey. Mr. Kirk...."
+
+Then Jim's limp hand and the well-known voice--"Sure, me an' Whitey
+Kirk is old friends, ain't we, Whitey?"
+
+"You know one another?" Weston's simulation was very poor indeed.
+
+"I've had the pleasure of Mr. Hanvey's acquaintance for a number of
+years."
+
+"Yeh--sure he has, Mr. Weston. We've had business dealin's with one
+another--as you might say."
+
+Kirk had regained his impassivity and by no slightest gesture did he
+give testimony to the internal seethe nor the swift groping of his keen
+brain for the answer to this new problem. The presence of Jim Hanvey
+betokened trouble--great gobs of it--and trouble was the one thing
+which Whitey Kirk was at that moment most desirous of avoiding. He
+negotiated Jim into the glare of an electrolier while he himself stood
+in the shadows, but he gained no information from the bovine expression
+of the triple-chinned detective. Jim sat stolidly, lids curtaining his
+expressionless, fishy orbs, fingers twiddling the golden toothpick.
+Theodore Weston gazed interestedly from one to the other. He felt a
+queer confidence in the ability of the ungainly detective, and didn't
+understand the feeling. Jim was the apparent personification of the
+ultimate in human stupidity, but Weston's keen, sparkling eyes had not
+missed the flash of apprehension which had whitened Kirk's face at the
+moment of recognition.
+
+And then Madge Weston burst into the room--billowed through the door
+like a stray zephyr. She called gay greetings and then, girllike, made
+directly toward Warren Kirk--pausing abruptly at sight of the stranger.
+She accepted her father's introduction matter-of-factly and immediately
+set about the task of making the stranger feel at home. It was plain to
+her that he was out of the picture--a veritable china-shop bull--and
+she was more than a little sorry for him. Jim responded eagerly to her
+advances, and the warmth of his response grew more keen when he noticed
+that Kirk was highly displeased.
+
+Here was the sort of girl who made an irresistible appeal to
+Jim--pretty in a fresh, wholesome, sensible and entirely immature way;
+eager, unspoiled, urgent with life and vitality; far, far removed
+from the genus flapper--all of whom were anathema to Jim. Flappers
+frightened the big fellow. They had a manner which he could not
+fathom, their quick vapid repartee passed over his head, he held the
+consciousness that he was the butt of their covert ridicule. But not
+with Madge. She was herself wholesome and delightful and girlish. By
+the time they entered the dining room Madge and the big detective were
+the best of friends.
+
+The dinner commenced as an ordeal for Jim until he realized that he
+could never solve the fork riddle and devoted his entire attention
+to enjoyment of the rich and rare food. Mrs. Weston smiled toward
+her husband--she had the soul of the true hostess, the hostess who
+enjoys the enjoyment of her guest. True, Madge was a trifle shocked
+by his lack of table manners, but that was soon borne with--and then
+forgotten. He _was_ having such a good time!
+
+Alone, following the dinner, the three men were silent. Warren Kirk was
+decidedly ill-at-ease. Finally he rose: "Mighty fine night, Jim."
+
+"Huh?"
+
+"Beautiful night--outside."
+
+"Ain't so worse inside."
+
+"Want to stroll round the grounds?"
+
+"You mean you want to have a talk with me?"
+
+"Not exactly--"
+
+"Sure." Jim, with difficulty, hoisted himself from the chair. "But
+remember I'm a rotten walker, Whitey."
+
+A shade of annoyance flashed across the man's face. "My name is Warren."
+
+"A'right, Warren. Le's travel."
+
+They descended from the spacious veranda to the moon-drenched garden.
+The night air was soft and warm and saturated with the odor of lilacs.
+From far off came the tinkle of a piano and the sensuous strains of a
+violin--and in the street somewhere children were playing and calling
+gleefully to one another. Everywhere quietude and beauty and peace.
+Side by side the two men walked: Jim's big figure waddling on short,
+fat legs; Whitey's broad shoulders thrown far back, his firm, muscular
+limbs moving with easy rhythm. And it was the taller man who broke the
+silence. He spoke without turning and his voice was frigid and direct.
+
+"What's the big idea, Jim?"
+
+"Hmm! Just visitin' my ol' college chump who I ain't seen since we
+graduated from Harvard together."
+
+"Let's cut out the kidding. What are you here for?"
+
+Jim's voice was mildly reproving. "Don't you know?"
+
+"I can guess."
+
+"A'right. You got my permission. One guess ought to be enough. If you
+miss I'll give you another."
+
+"You're here--" Whitey's icy voice came slowly, his words
+close-clipped--"to break up my romance."
+
+"Your what?"
+
+"Romance."
+
+"With that kid?"
+
+"Yes--with that kid."
+
+Jim's heavy head rolled in earnest negation. "Naw, son--you're all
+wrong. I ain't here to bust up no romance."
+
+"Listen to me, Jim Hanvey--you've got a reputation for telling the
+truth--"
+
+"I'm telling it now. I ain't here to bust up no romance, Whitey. I'm
+here to keep you from gettin' away with whatever graft you're planning."
+
+"I'm not planning anything except to marry this girl."
+
+"Well--that's a pretty good graft, ain't it? Good lookin'
+kid--young--heiress to about twenty million bucks. Mmm! I'd call it a
+real swell graft."
+
+"I'm in love with her--"
+
+A harsh note crept into the detective's voice. "That's a lie, Whitey,
+and you know it. If you was you'd clear out. You know you can't bring
+her nothin' but misery. Now what I want to find out is this--are you
+plannin' to go through with this deal an' marry her, or have you got a
+price?"
+
+"I have no price."
+
+"You can't be bought off?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, that makes my job harder. I thought maybe you was lookin' for a
+soft spot and didn't want to queer things by bargaining with the old
+man. It'd be worth a heap to him to get rid of you. Not that you ain't
+a good crook, Whitey--an' in a professional way I ain't got nothin'
+but respect an' admiration for you. But as a gent, Whitey, you ain't
+worth a damn."
+
+For a few moments neither spoke. It was Kirk who broke the silence.
+"You must know already that you can't queer me with the kid."
+
+"Does look like a tough assignment."
+
+"There isn't anything you can do."
+
+"Yes there is."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Well, for one thing, I can make it downright embarrassin' for you--so
+durned embarrassin' that maybe you'll decide you'd better break it off
+with the girl and begin to talk dollars and cents."
+
+"Not a chance."
+
+"No?" A pause, and then--"I'm glad you think so, Whitey. But lookin'
+over that young lady kinder careful it strikes me that if she was ever
+convinced you was a crook she'd give you the go-bye so fast you'd think
+you was a popboy at an automobile racetrack. Yep--that gal sure never
+would stand for no crooks payin' her rent--not if I've got her right."
+
+"Perhaps not," admitted the other, "but you can't hang a thing on me.
+You know I'm a crook and I know it. But nobody has ever gotten a thing
+on me. Not a thing. In ten years I haven't slipped once--not a single
+time."
+
+Jim gazed at him keenly: "That's what you think," he said with peculiar
+emphasis.
+
+They returned to the house; Hanvey expressionless as ever, Kirk
+struggling to conceal the worry inspired by Jim's air of confidence.
+Whitey knew that he had never slipped in his decade of criminality--he
+knew but he wasn't sure. Perhaps, somewhere in that period, there had
+been an error of judgment, a weakness which he did not suspect. He
+knew the axiom of the criminal world--a detective may make a thousand
+mistakes and yet be successful; a criminal cannot err once. Warren Kirk
+realized that he was only human--and therefore fallible. And if Jim
+knew something and could prove it....
+
+Later in the evening Kirk persuaded Madge to accompany him to the
+veranda. Scarcely had they left the room when Jim fired a question at
+her parents--
+
+"Knowing what you do about this guy, why'd you agree to their
+engagement?"
+
+"Madge is headstrong," was the simple answer. "We thought it best to
+appear to consent."
+
+"Mmm!" Jim nodded slowly. "It sure is a pleasure to work with folks
+which uses their heads for somethin' more than havin' a picture taken
+of."
+
+Meanwhile, on the veranda, Whitey Kirk was talking with low-voiced
+earnestness to the girl. "It's this way, Madge--Hanvey is a detective
+and a good one. He is one of the leaders of the police clique which
+for years has been attempting to hang something on me. Your father has
+fallen under their influence. He has hinted to you that my past is not
+all it might have been. He has hired Jim Hanvey to come down here and
+prove to you that I am crooked." He bent his handsome head close to
+her wide-open, frightened eyes. "I believe I am a gentleman, little
+girl. I want you to promise that the minute you lose your trust in me
+you will let me know--and I shall leave you. But if you're willing to
+stand by me...." With a little sob she seized his hand and pressed it
+tightly.
+
+"Don't talk that way, Warren. _Don't!_ I can't bear the thought that
+anyone even thinks you are not all right. And don't suggest that I
+won't stand by you. I love you, dear...."
+
+He took her in his arms then and kissed her, and even as he did
+so there was a coldly calculating light in his gray eyes. He was
+playing this game for big stakes. It was the chance of a lifetime--an
+opportunity to insure affluence with safety. And Madge was a pretty
+good sort. He wasn't in love with her, of course, but on the other
+hand he might do worse in the selection of a life partner. Nice, clean
+kid--and sensible.... "Gee! it'd sure bust things higher than a kite if
+Jim could ever prove to her...."
+
+And so after the silence of midnight had fallen over the house, Whitey
+Kirk sat staring from the window of his room. Beside him was an ash
+tray filled with cigarette stumps.
+
+Jim had him worried. Whitey knew--none better--the ability of the
+ponderous detective, knew that he would not be absolutely safe until
+he was actually married to the girl. It wasn't that Jim had discovered
+proof of any past transgression so much as there was danger that Jim
+might frame him.
+
+Whitey knew well the romantic strain rampant in the soul of the
+ponderous visitor, realized that Jim believed he must save the girl.
+And he realized that, all other methods failing, there was every
+likelihood that Jim would frame a robbery or a bit of crookedness in
+such a manner that he would appear guilty. "He might even plant a jewel
+robbery," reflected Kirk, "and plant the loot in my room. Then, if they
+caught me...."
+
+Early the following morning he went riding with Madge and forewarned
+her of that possibility. Madge was horrified and indignant, but
+there was in her eyes a queer, questioning light which had been
+absent the previous night. Madge was seeing a great deal of smoke and
+instinctively she found herself wondering whether, after all, there
+might not be a bit of fire. She cast aside the idea as unworthy--but it
+persisted subtly and she was downcast and constrained for the last hour
+of their time together.
+
+But she was blessed with a strain of sterling loyalty and active
+fighting qualities. Immediately upon her return home, she sought an
+interview with her father. It was brief, surfeited with mutual pain,
+and very much to the point. Father and daughter were honest with one
+another.
+
+"Why are you opposed to my engagement, Dad?"
+
+"The disparity in age, for one thing."
+
+"What else?"
+
+"I don't like Kirk."
+
+"You believe he is not--all that he might be?"
+
+"Yes, Dear."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I have had him investigated."
+
+"Yet you never heard of a man who was as evil as they say Warren is who
+has never been caught, have you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then why persecute him? Why not play fair? Why make me unhappy?"
+
+"Believing what I do, Madge--"
+
+"The police are down on him--for no reason. They've been persecuting
+him for years. If what they say were true, Dad--" and her voice
+crescendoed bitterly--"they'd have proved something. But it's not true,
+and I want you to know that I shall stand by him in spite of you and
+Mother and this fat Mr. Hanvey and all the rest of the world."
+
+Weston crossed the room and took her face between his hands. "I like
+you to talk that way, Daughter. I like my little girl to be a good
+sportsman. I'm not trying to persecute Warren Kirk: I'm trying to get
+at the truth. You have no objections to that, have you?"
+
+She thought it over for a moment--"And if you discover that these
+allegations are untrue?"
+
+"Then you may marry him whenever you wish."
+
+She walked slowly from the room. She and her father had always been
+pals. He was fair to a fault--and honest. She responded to the fairness
+of his present attitude. She loved the Warren Kirk she thought she
+knew. If he was not that man.... If, beneath the polished exterior,
+there was blackness.... She went quietly to her room to ponder....
+
+When she came downstairs shortly before the luncheon hour Jim Hanvey
+was waiting for her. His huge figure overflowed a chair in the
+reception hall and he lumbered to his feet at her descent. Somehow,
+despite the nature of his mission, she could not find it in her heart
+to dislike him. There was something infinitely pathetic and appealing
+about the man--a vague, elusive quality which excited the maternal
+instinct in her breast. The cheap, ready-made clothes which flapped so
+grotesquely about the ill-shapen figure were not funny ... she liked
+Jim Hanvey and she admitted it frankly. He bowed now with elephantine
+lack of grace.
+
+"Good mornin', Miss Madge."
+
+"Good morning."
+
+Jim glanced around apprehensively. "I've been sittin' here waitin' for
+you. I wonder if you'd talk to me for a minute?"
+
+She arched her brows in surprise. "Certainly."
+
+"Let's go where no one can hear us."
+
+They repaired to the library. Jim hitched his chair very close to hers.
+"I want you to understand just one thing, Miss Madge--I'm a friend of
+your'n." He cleared his throat. "I want to come clean with you--if
+you'll let me."
+
+"Please do."
+
+"Well, first off I want to tell you why I'm here. I'm here--" his fishy
+eyes closed slowly, opened even more slowly and then fixed glassily and
+compellingly on hers--"I'm here to break off this match between you an'
+Whitey."
+
+Her lips parted and she leaned forward. "Why?" she cried. "Do you, too,
+believe that he is--a--a--not what he should be?"
+
+Jim Hanvey's ponderous head rolled from side to side.
+
+"No ma'am!" he said explosively, "I don't!"
+
+"What?" Her voice rang with incredulous amazement.
+
+"Whitey ain't no crook--and that's what I wanted to tell you. He's
+on the level, that kid is. They've been out to get him for the last
+ten years and they've not succeeded. Why? The reason is because he's
+straight. But they've had it in for him. If he'd ever slipped--even an
+inch--they'd have got him. That's what I wanted to tell you--that I'm
+here as your friend. Of course I think he's pretty old for you--but
+that's your business and his. Your father thinks I'm gonna try to hang
+somethin' on Whitey. I'm not. But it's better for a friend of his to
+stick around than to tell the old man how I really stand and have him
+hire some one who has it in for Whitey. He wouldn't have a chance then.
+They'd frame him. And I just wanted to explain this to you so you'd
+know you can trust me."
+
+Impulsively she clasped his big right hand in both of hers. Her eyes
+were shining: "I don't know how to thank you. And I _do_ trust you--Oh!
+so much! It's horrible, what they're saying about Warren--and I know
+it isn't so. I--well, do you mind if I tell Warren that you're here to
+help him--to help us?"
+
+"No," returned Jim dryly, "I don't mind. Tell him. He'll be awful
+interested."
+
+And Whitey was interested when she told him the following morning. He
+was more than that, and the amazement which was writ large upon his
+features was reflected in the fury which surcharged his voice.
+
+"It's a damned lie--" He did not catch the startled, hurt glance which
+she bestowed upon him. "Jim believes I'm crooked. He's here to prove it
+to you. And when he says he's our friend, he lies."
+
+She cringed slightly. The intensity of the man troubled her. It was
+something which her immaturity could not understand; a new vision of
+this hitherto soft-spoken, gentle, thoughtful man. A tremor of doubt
+assailed her. Girl-like, she could not comprehend the bitterness which
+seemed so unnecessary. For the moment Whitey Kirk had stepped out of
+character.
+
+Later she told Jim that Kirk was distrustful and Hanvey insisted
+that the three of them meet for a chat. Kirk violently opposed the
+suggestion. Things which he could not fathom were happening too swiftly
+for his comfort. He was afraid of Jim and did not know how to combat
+this new tack--this brummagem friendliness. It was Madge who insisted
+that the trio talk things over, and Madge who made evasion impossible.
+Lowering and sullen he greeted the impassive Jim who puffed placidly
+upon one of his murderous cigars and appeared happily oblivious to
+the rancor in the other's manner. But Madge was noticing--and she was
+vaguely uncomfortable for Jim.
+
+"What's your game, Jim?" Whitey Kirk came straight to the point.
+
+"Game? Who said I was playin' a game?"
+
+"You know perfectly well that when you told Miss Weston you were here
+in the rôle of friend, you lied."
+
+"Mph! You don't care who you call a liar, do you?"
+
+"No I don't, and----"
+
+"Well----" softly--"I'm too much your friend to get sore at you about
+doin' it. Ain't that the sensible thing, Miss Madge?"
+
+"It is." She clipped her words short with a mannerism keenly remindful
+of her father. "And I must say, Warren, that you seem unnecessarily
+severe."
+
+He swung wrathfully upon her. "I tell you that your father has employed
+this man to destroy our happiness--to break off our engagement----"
+
+"He told me so himself," she answered with some asperity.
+
+"He did?"
+
+"Certainly. And he said he was remaining here because he is our friend
+and because if he resigned any other man who assumed the task would be
+our enemy. Isn't that simple?"
+
+"Yeh," chimed in Jim, "ain't it?"
+
+Kirk gazed at him through half-closed eyes. "I still don't get the
+drift----"
+
+"It's just this," explained Hanvey. "Everybody says you're a crook--but
+you ain't--are you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Folks just think you are. They're terrible unjust to you. You're
+really a gent and you're engaged to a swell young girl. All you want is
+a chance to marry her. Well, I'm here to see that you get that chance."
+
+"That isn't true!" snapped Kirk bluntly.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because you know good and well----" He pulled himself up sharply,
+suddenly remembering that his fiancée was an auditor "--that you think
+I'm not on the level."
+
+"Aw, Son, you're doin' yourself an awful injustice. I never knew a
+straighter, nicer feller than you in my life. I've always been your
+friend. I've always told these other dicks who've been after you that
+it wasn't no use--that they'd never get the goods on you so they might
+as well quit tryin'. Honest, I have."
+
+Kirk turned away. "One warning, Madge," he flung harshly over his
+shoulder, "this man isn't to be trusted."
+
+She stared after his retreating figure, her own countenance aflame
+with embarrassment. Jim Hanvey, alone of the trio, seemed unperturbed.
+His attitude of disinterestedness was superb, and when she would have
+apologized for Kirk he cut her short. "That's all right, Miss Madge.
+I don't hold it against poor Whitey. They've been houndin' him for so
+long he's just naturally suspicious of everybody. Don't you go lettin'
+this little scene worry you. Just remember that I'm your friend.
+Real--sure-enough friend."
+
+She left him there and scarcely had she disappeared within the house
+when Kirk returned. His face was pallid and the gray eyes were blazing
+beneath the thinly pencilled brows. Jim greeted him with a broad grin.
+"Back again, Whitey?"
+
+"Yes. What I want to know----"
+
+"I'll tell you one thing you _ought_ to know--that is you pulled an
+awful bone just now. The way you acted you almost convinced me I was
+wrong and that you really are a crook."
+
+"Come off that, Jim. What are you driving at?"
+
+"Just trying to help you out. You an' Miss Madge. Terrible swell kid.
+I'm strong for her."
+
+"You can't hang anything on me."
+
+Hanvey met his eyes squarely. Then the detective's lids closed with
+interminable slowness. At the termination of the protracted ocular yawn
+he gave vent to a single comment. "Nobody in this world ever batted a
+thousand," he said.
+
+That night the three principals in the little drama gave themselves
+over to intensive thought. Jim speculated least of all. He was more
+than merely satisfied with the results of his preliminary work,
+although he was yet somewhat appalled by the difficulty of the task he
+had undertaken--and with the urgency of success. He shuddered in his
+big, simple heart at thought of the girl's future should his efforts
+meet with failure. Whitey was all right in his own sphere--but this
+girl did not belong there and he knew that Whitey could never fit
+himself into her world.
+
+As for Whitey Kirk, that gentleman was victim to a severe and obsessing
+worry. He had been apprehensive from the moment of Jim's arrival on the
+scene and had already laid a predicate of defense against any possible
+move of the detective. But the first move had caught him unprepared--it
+had come from an unexpected quarter and he found himself off guard.
+Jim's expressed friendship was the one thing with which he did not
+know how to cope. He realized that he had pulled a strategic blunder
+that afternoon--all through the evening Madge had been cool and unlike
+her naturally effusive and effervescent self. Madge was thinking--and
+Whitey didn't want Madge to think. Her nimble brain contained too much
+of her father's powers of logical deduction.
+
+Kirk could not vision the goal toward which Jim was heading. That
+Jim had a definite objective, he did not doubt. He knew that the
+protestations of friendly interest were untrue--but he could not
+prove they were untrue. The very fact that Hanvey's strategy was
+unintelligible to him caused additional worry. He could face a definite
+attack. This one, subtle and evasive, bewildered and rendered him
+horribly vulnerable.
+
+Madge sat at her window, staring seriously across the silhouette of
+hills. In her eyes was a brooding reflective light which was at once
+doubting and speculative. Instinct informed her that Jim Hanvey was her
+friend. She could not help but trust him. And she had that day made
+the startling discovery that there was something to Warren Kirk beside
+suave gentility. She had glimpsed beneath the surface and had seen
+there a hardness and a grimness which she--eighteen and in love--had
+never suspected.
+
+There was little sleep for her that night and she did not come down
+the following morning until long after breakfast. She had forgotten an
+engagement to ride with Kirk and learned with an inexplicable measure
+of relief that he had gone alone. In the morning room she found Jim
+Hanvey smoking one of his vile cigars and worrying himself over the
+proper place to drop the ashes. She settled herself for a chat--and so,
+eager and friendly, Whitey Kirk found her when he returned from his
+ride. He remonstrated with her, and, as she had discovered a granite
+something in him the previous day, so he now learned that there was a
+strain of firmness in her which did not brook opposition.
+
+"I think you're unjust and unreasonable, Warren."
+
+"I know what I'm talking about."
+
+"Has Mr. Hanvey ever harmed you?"
+
+"It isn't his fault that he hasn't. He has tried."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+Kirk's face flushed. That was a question which was embarrassing to
+answer. He knew well enough, but--"I know--that's all."
+
+"That isn't sufficient for me, Warren. I like Mr. Hanvey and I believe
+he's our friend."
+
+Kirk's face hardened unpleasantly. "He may be yours, Madge; but he
+isn't mine."
+
+They had walked down the rosepath together and now she left him
+abruptly and returned to Hanvey. He gave no slightest indication of
+interest in their conversation. He stared stolidly at nothing at all
+and allowed her ample time to recover her mental equilibrium.
+
+Kirk again tried to solve the riddle. Jim was proceeding with a smug
+complacency which worried him. Mentally, he checked over the list of
+his criminal exploits. He was positive that each had been excellently
+covered but he wasn't sure. Now. He had been sure until Jim appeared
+on the scene. But nothing could explain Jim's air of confidence save
+the certainty that he had uncovered some supposedly closed trail of
+Kirk's. But if Jim Hanvey was planning to discredit Kirk in the eyes of
+the girl, his actions gave no hint of that fact. It was the following
+morning, after a hearty tiff between Whitey and Madge, that he found
+her crying in an arbor and slumped down beside her consolingly----
+
+"Aw! c'mon, Kid--that ain't no way to carry on. Whitey didn't mean
+nothin' by what he said."
+
+She faced him squarely. There were tears in her eyes but no suggestion
+of weakness in the firm line of her jaw. "It isn't what he said, Mr.
+Hanvey--it's what he didn't say."
+
+"Well then--he didn't mean nothin' by what he didn't say. Whitey's a
+swell feller, Madge. An awful swell feller. Best in the world. He's got
+his faults--we've all of us got them. But I'm strong for Whitey an' I'd
+give anything in the world if he'd believe that."
+
+"So would I," she said. "I trust you, Mr. Hanvey. I don't know why--but
+I do. Perhaps it's because I like you so much."
+
+Jim blushed like a schoolgirl. "Gee! them words is music to my ears.
+There ain't many folks have said that to me, Miss Madge. Y'know--it
+seems that when folks meet up with a fat man they think all they got to
+do to prove they're good fellers is to give him a razzin'. Goshamighty,
+a fat feller likes friends as much as a skinny one. More, I'll say. He
+needs 'em more." He breathed heavily with the exertion of prolonged
+declamation. "That's why I wisht Whitey would like me an' trust me like
+you do. Matter of fact I've just been achin' to solve his problem, but
+he wouldn't let me get within firin' distance--you'd think I was gonna
+eat him."
+
+"You've been aching to solve what problem, Mr. Hanvey?"
+
+"His an' yourn."
+
+"How?"
+
+Jim looked away. "I don't exactly like to tell you. If Whitey was to
+suspect I was hornin' in on his affairs he'd get plumb peeved. Reckon
+I'd better wait. But it _is_ a terrible good solution."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+Her interrogation fairly crackled. Jim grinned. "Anybody listenin' to
+that would know you was your father's daughter, Sis."
+
+"What have you in mind?"
+
+"Nothin' special--just an easy way out. Somethin' Whitey would of
+thought of long ago if he'd been twenty years younger." He stared
+reflectively at the sky--"Elopement!"
+
+The color receded from her cheeks. For a moment she sat motionless,
+then leaned forward earnestly. "Would he?"
+
+"Elope? Goodness goshness! yes! Feller who wouldn't elope with you
+would be a wooden Indian. 'Course I suppose he's figured that it'd get
+you in dutch with your folks, but I've been studyin' them out, an' I
+know they're so nuts about you they'd forgive you right away. Ain't it
+so?"
+
+"Yes.... Mr. Hanvey, I've been hoping that Warren would suggest that.
+I have, really. I know it sounds unmaidenly to say it--but I've
+been so worried and so uncertain. And recently Warren has acted so
+peculiarly--since you came here, that is.... I wish it was over and
+done with."
+
+"That's the way to talk, Sis. And I want you to know I'm here to help
+you all I can."
+
+"You will?"
+
+"Positively. But--" ruminatingly "--I wouldn't mention that fact to
+Whitey if I was you."
+
+She nodded agreement. "Perhaps I had better not. But I'll count on you
+just the same."
+
+It was that night that she walked through the gardens with Kirk and
+broached her plan. She did it simply and naïvely--she was worried,
+she said, recent developments had mitigated the perfection of their
+happiness. He had become morose and she worried. It was better not to
+go on this way. If he really loved her, he wouldn't wait--he'd just
+carry her off....
+
+Whitey Kirk scarce believed the evidence of his senses. He was
+amazed and exultant. Ever since the moment of Jim's arrival on the
+scene he had longed to suggest an elopement, but he was afraid. Jim
+would find out some way, and then there'd be thunder to pay. He had
+feared it would be a tactical blunder, might arouse her suspicions of
+over-anxiety on his part.
+
+His agreement was instant and enthusiastic--sufficiently enthusiastic
+even for her girlish, romance-loving heart. Within an hour their plans
+were laid: they were to announce after dinner the following night
+that they were going for a ride. At about eight o'clock they'd leave
+the grounds in her own high-powered sport roadster into which their
+suitcases would previously have been put. Then across country to the
+next town--and marriage. Whitey was whistling gleefully when they
+returned to the spacious veranda, but Madge was victim to a strange
+admixture of emotions. On the one hand was the thrill of active
+romance--on the other a feeling that she was doing wrong, that she
+wasn't playing fair with her parents; that, perhaps, after all was said
+and done, Whitey wasn't exactly the man for her.
+
+Some of her doubts she expressed to Jim the following morning. He
+laughed away her fears. He had advised it, he said, because it was the
+simplest way out of a serious difficulty. A problem, he explained, was
+only a problem until it attained solution. It became then, a status.
+Those were not Jim's words, but that was the sense of them. She was
+only half-convinced and told him so.
+
+"But I trust you, Jim Hanvey. I'm taking your advice. I'll do what you
+say."
+
+"You really love Whitey?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+"Then elope with him to-night."
+
+All through the long afternoon she was distraught. Her suitcase was
+packed and ready. Immediately following a peculiarly strained dinner
+Whitey Kirk disappeared. He returned in a few minutes having, in the
+interim, placed his suitcase in the girl's car. The world was a very
+bright and rosy place for Whitey just then. He glanced contemptuously
+toward the slothful, hulking figure of the detective. Not the least
+item of the prospective triumph would be Jim's discomfiture.
+
+For her part, Madge was uncertain and unhappy. Only her immaturity and
+her fear of that youthful bugbear known as "backing down" prevented
+an eleventh-hour retreat. But, starry-eyed and firm-jawed, she set
+herself to go through with it. She had said she'd do it and she
+would--come what might. But she experienced none of the happiness which
+she had fancied would be hers upon her nuptial night. There was only
+a vague, formless terror ... time and again she turned to Jim Hanvey
+for comfort. Jim knew--she could talk to him. He tried cumbersomely
+to reassure her, and succeeded partially. That evening he was to her
+both mother and father ... they were very close to one another; the
+big, ungainly detective and the bewildered, emotion-driven child of a
+millionaire father.
+
+At seven-thirty o'clock Whitey Kirk called Madge aside.
+
+"Your suitcase in the car, dear?"
+
+"Yes," she answered softly.
+
+"You put it there yourself?"
+
+"Yes...." Then she hesitated and bit her lip. Madge had never been
+taught to lie. "Well, not exactly myself."
+
+"What do you mean: Not exactly?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"What do you mean, Madge?"
+
+"Well, somebody put it there for me."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"I don't see what difference that makes, Warren."
+
+He quizzed her with an intensity which he himself did not understand.
+"Who was it?"
+
+Her head was flung back defiantly.
+
+"Mr. Hanvey!"
+
+His jaw dropped slowly. Then his fingers tightened on her arm. "Jim
+Hanvey?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then--" He was striving to adjust himself to this queer
+development--"Then Jim Hanvey knows about this elopement?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You told him?"
+
+"No. That is--not exactly."
+
+"Good God! Madge, can't you realize what you've done? You've spoiled
+the whole thing. If Jim Hanvey knows of this we may as well call it
+off. We'll never get away with it. I told you from the first that he
+was here to prevent our marriage. And now that you've told him--"
+
+Her voice was level and firm in defense of the detective.
+
+"And I've told you _you_ were wrong, Warren. Jim is my friend and
+yours. He won't stop our elopement."
+
+"What makes you think that?" His voice contained a sneer.
+
+"Because," she announced calmly, "the idea of this elopement originated
+with Jim Hanvey!"
+
+His grip on her arm relaxed. He gazed at her in incredulous
+astoundment. His brain seemed momentarily atrophied. Of all possible
+disclosures this was the most disturbing. It had been sufficiently
+alarming to learn that Jim was aware of the proposed elopement but to
+be informed that the idea had originated with the portly detective was
+a stunning blow.
+
+He questioned the girl dazedly, choosing his words with care, holding
+himself in leash that he might betray none of the violent emotion which
+seethed within him. He might have suspected ... might have known that
+Jim was not entirely inactive. And all the time, while the girl was
+explaining, his own brain groped for an answer to the puzzle. What was
+Jim planning? What _could_ he be planning? As from a great distance he
+heard her words--
+
+"And so you see I was right and Jim is your friend."
+
+An uncontrollable fury shook him. The words were out of their own
+volition--"He's a damned sneak! Butting in on my affairs!"
+
+She recoiled. The viciousness of the man's attitude, his venomous
+speech.... He saw his error quickly and for the next ten minutes
+devoted himself and his expert talents to the task of making amends.
+She was only half-convinced.... "We'll go through with it," he said
+grimly. "Jim will double-cross you--you'll see. But we'll go through."
+
+She went to her room. The farewell to her dainty little sanctuary was
+not easy. She dabbed at her eyes with a tiny lace handkerchief and
+prayed for the moral courage to renege at this eleventh hour. But that
+courage did not come--she was too young and her philosophy was builded
+about a tenet of gameness. She had said she'd elope with Warren Kirk
+and elope she would despite the instinct which cried to her in warning.
+
+She pulled herself together with an effort, set her lips in a
+straight, determined line, and--with shoulders thrown back and head
+held high--descended the stairway. Her eyes roved questioningly about
+and she felt more than a hint of regret at failing to discern the
+hulking figure of Jim Hanvey. Nor did she see Kirk. She inquired his
+whereabouts of her father.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," answered Weston. "I saw Kirk strolling about
+with Jim Hanvey but I don't know where they went. Weren't you going
+riding with Warren?"
+
+She nodded in dumb misery. As they reached the veranda Kirk appeared
+from the dusk. He seemed nervous and, in the light which streamed
+through the doorway, his face possessed a marked pallor. He addressed
+the girl: "All ready, Dear?"
+
+"Yes." She turned to her father. "Where is Johnson? I want him to get
+the roadster."
+
+Weston answered. "Johnson has gone to town in the big car, Dear. I'll
+get the other out for you."
+
+"No." Her manner denoted anxiety. "I'll back it out myself. You talk to
+Warren."
+
+There was no eagerness in her manner as she progressed slowly toward
+the garage in the rear of the big house. A premonition of disaster was
+with her, the irrevocability of the thing was depressing. Game as she
+was, there was considerable trepidation at the thought that she was
+thus wilfully abandoning the placidity of her existence for a future
+unknown and with a man whom she had just come to realize she scarcely
+knew.
+
+She climbed thoughtfully into the roadster, assured herself that her
+suitcase and Whitey's were there, and then started the motor. Its
+rhythmic hum brought no elation this night. Just before slipping into
+gear, she reached to the dashboard and switched on her head-lights.
+As by magic the interior of the garage was illumined by the brilliant
+glare. And then, as the significance of the sight disclosed by the
+sudden illumination penetrated her consciousness, she capitulated to
+her overwrought nerves. She screamed.
+
+"Dad! O-oh! Dad!"
+
+She sat motionless, gripped by a horrid fear, until her father stood
+beside the car, and as she alighted uncertainly her eyes discerned the
+figure of Warren Kirk farther back in the shadows. He hovered there
+uncertainly. Her father held her arm anxiously and then, as he saw her
+distended eyes, he followed their direction and a startled exclamation
+escaped from between his lips. For, in the very corner of the garage
+was a bundle of flashy, vivid clothes--a bundle bound securely by ropes
+and rendered mute by a gag.
+
+"He's dead!" The girl's eyes flashed accusingly upon Kirk, and then
+back to the pitiful figure of Jim Hanvey in the corner. Jim was slumped
+grotesquely, his chin hung forward on the massive breast, a thin
+trickle of blood coursed down his fat cheeks and lost itself in the fat
+recesses of the ample chins.
+
+How long she stood there she didn't know. She remembered her father
+leaping across the garage, whipping out a gold penknife as he did so.
+And she knew vaguely that Kirk was beside her, his hand on her elbow.
+She shook his hand off and he moved away as though she had struck him.
+Weston administered first aid to the stricken man from a silver pocket
+flask and not until the fishy eyes wavered open did the girl move, and
+then it was to dart across the garage and drop to her knees by the side
+of the ungainly figure. She pillowed his head on her breast and soft,
+crooning mother-sounds came from between her lips. She wiped away the
+thin stream of blood with the hem of her skirt. Jim rousing himself
+with an effort, blinked dazedly into the glare of the auto lamps and
+shook his head. His voice came lugubriously--
+
+"Gosh! I sure feel like Friday the thirteenth."
+
+As Jim, with the aid of Theodore Weston, struggled to his feet, Whitey
+Kirk moved slowly into the circle of light. His finely chiselled face
+exhibited great concern. He voiced a question--"What happened, Jim?"
+
+It was Madge Weston who answered. She, too, had risen, and a new
+maturity seemed to have enveloped her. With a quietly dramatic gesture
+she removed from the fourth finger of her left hand the ring which Kirk
+had given her. She extended it to him.
+
+"You know what happened to him, Warren."
+
+"I don't...." His denial was fervent. "I'll swear to you, Madge--"
+
+"Take this, Warren. I'd rather not discuss the matter."
+
+His eyes held hers. And the man saw there a light of finality which was
+beyond question or argument. With that revealing glance he knew that he
+had lost. Madge turned to her father and gave a calm, quiet, womanly
+explanation--
+
+"I was about to elope with Warren. He was afraid that Mr. Hanvey might
+try to stop us. And so he committed this--this cowardly act--"
+
+"I didn't!" It was Kirk defending himself passionately. "I give you my
+word. Jim, you know I didn't do this. Tell them--"
+
+"It doesn't matter what Mr. Hanvey says," retorted the girl sadly. "He
+has always been your friend and he's your friend now. He'd probably say
+you didn't do it, wouldn't you, Mr. Hanvey?"
+
+"Yeh." Jim's big head nodded slowly. "I prob'ly would. I ain't aimin'
+to git Whitey into no trouble."
+
+"You see, Warren, he's standing by you to the end. For it is the end,
+Warren. The very end. I've learned a good deal in the last few days.
+Somehow, I marvel that I didn't know before."
+
+"But I didn't do it, Madge. Tell her that I didn't do it, Jim."
+
+Jim met his eyes levelly. "I ain't accused you of nothin', have I,
+Whitey?"
+
+Kirk stood rigid, staring from one to the other. From father and
+daughter he received stares of unveiled hostility. From Jim Hanvey only
+a mild, blinking reproof. Kirk's big figure shook with fury and he
+smashed one fist into the palm of the other hand.
+
+"It's all a damned lie!" he shouted. "I had nothing to do with this and
+Jim Hanvey knows it."
+
+"Well," came the quiet retort from the detective, "I ain't said you
+did, have I?"
+
+It was Madge Weston who interposed. "It doesn't matter what either of
+you might say," she remarked coldly. "And now, Dad, I think we'd better
+help Mr. Hanvey into the house."
+
+They supported the big figure between them. Whitey Kirk stood aside
+as they passed him. Later, after Weston and Madge had bandaged Jim's
+slight scalp wound, Kirk dispatched a note to Madge protesting his
+innocence and begging for an audience. She returned a curt refusal and
+the following morning, without again having seen the girl, Whitey Kirk
+abruptly departed the Weston home.
+
+That afternoon Jim Hanvey and Theodore Weston faced each other across
+the polished surface of the walnut desk in the library. Jim was puffing
+peacefully upon one of his favorite black cigars and his host was
+struggling manfully with its mate. But however horrible the cigar might
+have been, it was not sufficiently malevolent to negative entirely the
+unalloyed exaltation which Weston was experiencing.
+
+"You accomplished the impossible, Jim. I'll never forget it. I didn't
+believe it would work----"
+
+"I wasn't so dog-goned sure of it myself," answered the big detective
+slowly. Then he grinned ruefully as he tenderly rubbed the bruise
+on his head. "I'll hand you one thing, Mr. Weston. Your bindin' an'
+gaggin' wasn't such a fine job--but believe me that sure was one awful
+wallop you hit me. I don't wonder Miss Madge was so sure that Whitey
+done it. She never would believe her Dad was that cruel."
+
+Weston was deeply apologetic. "You insisted that I hit you hard."
+
+"Sure I did," chuckled Jim. "I'm just remarkin' that you certainly took
+me at my word."
+
+
+
+
+                               PINK BAIT
+
+
+There was nothing about Mr. Thomas Matlock Braden to mark him as being
+other than a perfect gentleman. From the moment of his unostentatious
+arrival he blended perfectly into the tinsel background of the
+fashionable Indiana resort hotel and while he regretted that the other
+guests were not aware that he possessed eleven new tailored suits he
+found contentment in the fact that they were equally ignorant of his
+eleven aliases.
+
+Tommy Braden was old enough to appreciate the benefits which accrue to
+one who treads the path of rectitude, and, by the same token, he had
+attained to a philosophy which was based upon the theory that there was
+no transgression provided one is undiscovered. He was slightly more
+than forty-five years of age, tall and lean and quietly purposeful. His
+black hair was graying at the temples: he presented a picture which
+impelled passers-by to turn and murmur: "What a distinguished looking
+gentleman."
+
+In cultivating this external aspect of severe probity, Tommy assumed
+a virtue which he had not. Morally, Tommy was a total loss. He was
+courteous and suave and cosmopolitan. And unscrupulous. He feared
+nothing save detection and ordered his existence upon the hypothesis
+that the legally constituted authorities are, on the whole, a stupid
+lot who have mastered the fundamentals of criminology and care nothing
+and know less about the finer points of the science.
+
+He had long since graduated from the ranks of ordinary crooks. He now
+handled only tasks which required extraordinary finesse, infinite
+patience and an all-embracing knowledge of human nature. He selected
+his clients with as great care as he chose his victims and the former,
+at least, had small cause to protest his treatment. Certainly Mr.
+Michael Donley fancied himself extremely fortunate in having secured
+the cooperation of so eminent a personage in the criminal world.
+
+The deal between Messrs. Donley and Braden had been consummated in a
+few moments.
+
+"You know them Vanduyn poils, Tommy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I got 'em."
+
+"I know it."
+
+"How'dja get wise?"
+
+Mr. Braden's thin, ascetic lips expanded into a tolerant smile. "You
+bungled that job horribly, Mickey. Every dick in the country knows who
+pulled that job. They'll nab you the first time you turn around."
+
+Mr. Donley made a rueful grimace. "You said it, bo. There aint a fence
+will touch 'em. That's why I come to you."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"How about sellin' 'em for me?"
+
+"I might consider it."
+
+"I'll split fifty-fifty."
+
+Tommy Braden laughed lightly. "You amuse me, Mickey; truly you do."
+
+"An even split----"
+
+"I won't do business with you in that way, Mickey. You're a common
+crook and I don't care to enter into a co-partnership with you.
+However, I'll buy the pearls from you for five thousand dollars cash."
+
+"Aw! Tommy."
+
+"Very well." Mr. Braden waved insouciantly. "Sell them elsewhere. I'm
+rather busy these days."
+
+Mr. Donley knew that he was caught and he knew that Tommy Braden knew
+it. It was impossible for Mickey to dispose of the gems; in fact,
+there was a strong likelihood that even Tommy Braden would find it an
+impossible task. Certainly there was little doubt that it would tax his
+capacities to the utmost.
+
+Mickey studied closely the inscrutable countenance of his companion.
+In it he read a subtle enjoyment of the situation. Mickey was
+annoyed--chiefly because he was helpless.
+
+"Awright Tommy. Where's the five grand?"
+
+"Where are the pearls, Mickey?"
+
+"They're cache'd. Didn't dare bring 'em here. The bulls've got me
+shadowed. It's a shame the way they hound a poor crook."
+
+"It is, Mickey; it certainly is. But it proves that you're wise to sell
+them to me. They don't care anything for your carcass; they can pick
+you up any minute they choose. What they're after is the jewels. Pretty
+nice reward they're offering, isn't it?"
+
+Mr. Donley shook his bullet head sorrowfully. "Ten thousand berries.
+Gosh.... But the point is--where'll we meet?"
+
+Mr. Braden did some careful thinking. "Let's say to-morrow afternoon
+at two o'clock at the corner of Boulevard and Thirty-second street,
+Bayonne. And be sure they don't trail you."
+
+Mickey laughed shortly. "The dick that follies me there is going to
+have went all over Joisey."
+
+They met as per schedule. Tommy Braden at the wheel of a borrowed
+sedan. Together they rolled slowly down the Hudson County Boulevard
+toward Bergen Point. Mr. Donley produced a chamois sack and from it
+poured forth a stream of pink glory. "Gawd! ain't they beauts?"
+
+Tommy's eyes glittered with the appreciation of a connoisseur. "Very
+fine, Mickey. A rope of matched pearls ... hmm! I should say they're
+worth a hundred thousand dollars."
+
+"Ev'ry dime of that. Say, listen--how 'bout raising the ante a grand or
+two?"
+
+"Don't be silly, Mickey. Here's your five thousand. Give me the pearls."
+
+Mr. Donley left the sedan at Eighth Street and returned to New York
+via the Jersey Central. The route chosen by Mr. Thomas Matlock Braden
+was considerably more circuitous. He crossed the Kill von Kull to Port
+Richmond and traversed Staten Island to St. George where he boarded
+the New York ferry. He reached his apartment, concealed the pearls
+carefully and four days later departed for Indiana.
+
+Braden's mind was agile, and before his departure he had carefully
+planned every move of the delicate game. For one thing he had obtained
+several magazines which contained pictures of a certain Mr. Jared
+Mallory. Mr. Braden had always been interested in Mr. Mallory. The
+interest had been aroused once by the casual comment of a detective
+friend that they were not dissimilar in appearance. Mr. Mallory was
+a trifle older, true, but he had the same lean, sinewy figure; the
+same easy grace of bearing; the same appearance of gentility and the
+same touches of gray at the temples. Of course no person who knew Mr.
+Mallory could ever confound the twain, but a person who had never seen
+Mr. Mallory (and few had beyond his limited circle) could very readily
+believe that Tommy Braden was he, provided that belief was suggested.
+
+Tommy Braden was a great admirer of Mallory's. The latter was all
+that Tommy would have liked to be. He was immeasurably wealthy, he
+did not work, he existed in a little world of his own and looked with
+fine and distant disdain upon the senseless turmoil of a commercial
+world. If he dabbled at all in the marts of commerce it was with a
+magnificent aloofness which kept his name clear of financial news. One
+could imagine him as a person whose fortune was invested exclusively
+in government bonds. But the greatest link between Messrs. Braden and
+Mallory lay in the fact that the latter was by way of being a jewel
+collector.
+
+Tommy, too, collected jewelry, although in a rather more informal way.
+A gem to Mr. Mallory was a thing of beauty and of glory; something
+to be treasured and gazed upon and studied. Mr. Braden, being rather
+grossly material, saw in a jewel only its intrinsic worth and its
+marketable value where the method of its coming into his possession had
+been a bit questionable. But he loved jewelry none the less ... the
+viewpoint of the two men was basically the same although diametrically
+opposite in the working-out; Braden saw jewels in terms of cash;
+Mallory saw dollars in terms of gems.
+
+Jared Mallory was known to the masses in a vague way, such as a king
+is known. He was a person without a public personality. He shunned
+publicity and human contact outside his own little personal circle.
+He was a living definition of the word exclusive in its sociological
+application ... and so it was that very few persons were aware of the
+fact that Mr. Mallory had but recently sailed for France. Tommy Braden
+knew it, but that was only because Tommy happened to have an interest
+in Mr. Mallory. And now Tommy planned to cash in on his observation of
+the millionaire jewel-collector.
+
+Tommy's decision to visit the famous Indiana resort was the result of
+careful deliberation. He knew that this was the last place in the world
+that Mr. Mallory would ever visit, and it was logical to presume that
+Mr. Mallory's intimates would also shun it. They were to be found on
+private estates situated in Florida or along the Carolina coast ...
+anywhere but at a blatant resort hotel.
+
+Nor was Mr. Braden wrong in his conjecture. Of the thousands of guests
+who thronged the hotel lobby, the golf course, the casino--there was
+not one who had ever personally seen the famous Mr. Mallory although
+there were several whose bank balances contained as many figures
+as that of the gem collector. Which did not mean that Mr. Braden's
+fellow-guests were socially doubtful but rather that Mr. Mallory's
+status was such that the hotel would have considered he was paying it
+an inestimable compliment by deigning to visit.
+
+Tommy arrived at the hotel late one evening. He knew that one or two
+guests commented upon his distinguished appearance as he crossed the
+lobby. Such comment always pleased Tommy. It was a tribute to
+something which was innate. He liked to tell himself that he was not a
+snob ... he intended fully that the reputation of Mr. Mallory should
+not suffer by reason of any misapprehension which might be more or less
+deliberately engendered in the minds of his fellow-guests.
+
+He registered in a cramped scrawl which bore a startling similarity to
+the labored chirography of Jared Mallory. But Tommy was nothing if not
+honest. The clerk whirled the register and glimpsed the signature----
+
+                      THOMAS M. BRADEN--New York.
+
+"I wired for a suite...." Tommy's voice was rather indifferent, his
+manner bored.
+
+"Yes sir. Certainly sir." The gong. "Front. Show Mr. Braden up to Suite
+F."
+
+The dinner hour approached. Mr. Braden bathed and dressed with
+scrupulous care in an ultra-conservative dinner jacket. There was about
+his rather statuesque figure an air of stateliness which harmonized
+with the conventional simplicity of his garb. His dress was so
+unobtrusive as to command instant attention. He descended to the lobby,
+crossed to the dining room and slipped a crisp and ample bill into the
+willing hand of the headwaiter by way of assuring himself the proper
+respect.
+
+He knew that more than one person commented upon him during the course
+of the meal. For the most part he kept his eyes down, but when they
+did chance to focus upon some person, that individual experienced the
+unpleasant sensation of being looked through. More than one consulted
+the clerk after dinner for information as to the identity of the
+stranger who had now retired to a corner of the lobby and was puffing
+lightly upon a monogrammed cigarette.
+
+Among those who had particularly noticed Tommy was a couple from the
+Middle West: a rather wizened gentleman of some fifty-five years and
+his unduly ample wife. Mr. and Mrs. Edgar H. Morse had, for the past
+five years, been frantically attempting to create the impression which
+Mr. Braden was now registering so profoundly. Wealth had come to them
+in an unexpected flood. They were not crude persons but they did lack
+the background which is essential to true culture and, as earnestly as
+they had struggled for financial success during years which were rather
+more lean than fat, so they set about adjusting themselves to the
+social demands of their miraculously acquired millions.
+
+They were rather pathetic as they hung on the fringe of things and
+sought to absorb in a few years the social ease which must be born in
+one. They were not aggressive in their wealth--as a matter of fact they
+scarcely understood it; had not yet fathomed its meaning. And their
+tastes were those of the contest-answerers who send in to the editor
+lengthy replies to the prize query: "What would you do if you suddenly
+inherited a million dollars?"
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Morse strolled over to the desk and made inquiry of the
+clerk.
+
+"Oh! him? That's Thomas M. Braden."
+
+His manner indicated that anyone who was anyone would certainly know
+Mr. Thomas M. Braden. Mr. Morse caught the nuance and uttered an
+enlightening--"A-a-ah! So it is."
+
+"He's a wonderful looking man," commented Mrs. Morse. "So
+distinguished."
+
+They managed to seat themselves near Tommy. He appraised them
+scientifically. There was no mistaking their new and complete
+wealth--"Woman--no taste--but nice. Swellest modiste in New York--make
+me the grandest gown you got. He's a bird that ain't sure yet whether
+he ought to wear plain or patent oxfords with his dinner jacket. They
+look soft."
+
+He was apparently oblivious to their proximity until Mr. Morse
+apologetically borrowed a match. He did so apprehensively and was
+put instantly at ease by Tommy's manner. But Mr. Braden immediately
+appeared to lose interest in them. He was gazing out across the
+lobby--in but not of the crowd. And just when the Morses had become
+discouraged Tommy turned to them with a question--"How far is the golf
+links from the hotel?"
+
+Edgar H. Morse expanded instantly. He orated jerkily upon the nearness
+of the first tee, the condition of the course, the scenic beauties of
+the place--and wound up with the inevitable question of all golfers:
+"What do you shoot?"
+
+Tommy shrugged, "I'm not very good. When I break a hundred I'm
+satisfied."
+
+"Just my game. I did a 98 to-day and I'm tickled pink. Of course I
+hole every putt and most of 'em don't. You booked up for a game in the
+morning?"
+
+Tommy Braden bestowed upon his companion a stare in which there was the
+faintest hint of disapproval; a stare such as he fancied Jared Mallory
+might confer. Morse felt a sensation of faintness.
+
+"No-o," answered Tommy, "I'm not."
+
+There was an awkward pause. Edgar Morse desired to invite this regal
+gentleman to play with him but he dreaded a rebuff. And just when the
+subject was about to expire naturally, Tommy ventured a polite "Why?"
+
+"Why--er--a--I just sort of thought.... That is, if you weren't----"
+
+"That we might play a round?"
+
+"Yes. Yes." Eagerly. "If you would--that is, if you'd care to."
+
+"Delighted. What hour shall we tee off?"
+
+"Don't know--course crowded--have to get starting time." He rose
+excitedly. "'Scuse me minute. I'm in strong with the starter--give 'im
+cigars--and--er--things. See if I can't fix it...." He darted away,
+leaving Tommy with Mrs. Morse. She favored him with a wistful little
+smile.
+
+"That's real nice of you," she said. "Eddie just dotes on golf."
+
+"I'm sure I shall enjoy it."
+
+"Oh! sure you will. As soon as you get to know Eddie real well--that
+is, if you should--you'll like him tremendously. He's been awful
+lonesome here...."
+
+Edgar H. Morse returned, flushed and triumphant. "Fixed him. Ain't hard
+when you know how. We're off at nine-fifteen. Say, I'm all pepped up."
+
+Tommy took a cigarette from a platinum case. He extended the case to
+his new-found friend. Edgar Morse took one and glanced at the monogram.
+He wanted to note the brand of cigarette this gentleman used that he
+might unostentatiously duplicate it at the earliest possible moment.
+
+His eye focussed upon a simple monogram. Private brand ... but no: the
+initials were distinctly not T. M. B. He inspected more closely, then
+lighted the thing and inhaled deeply. "Fine cigarette. What make?"
+
+"My own," answered Tommy Braden suavely.
+
+They chatted amiably for a few moments and then Tommy rose, expressed
+polite regrets and moved away. "T'morrow morning, remember," the little
+man flung after him. "We'll have a great round. Er--a--that is, I hope
+we will."
+
+Tommy smiled his best Mallory smile, indicating the ultra-correct
+degree of mild enthusiasm. And when he had taken hat and stick and
+disappeared Mr. Edgar H. Morse did a very peculiar thing. He reached
+eagerly into the ash tray and rescued therefrom two frayed cigarette
+stubs. Mrs. Morse was duly horrified.
+
+"Eddie! What in the world!"
+
+But Edgar did not hear. He was frowning slightly and his gaze was fixed
+intently upon the monogram of Tommy's privately made cigarettes.
+
+"Listen, Ella--you heard him say they were his private cigarettes?"
+
+"Yes. But a good many gentlemen----"
+
+"Sure. Sure. I'm not saying they don't. But there's something peculiar
+about this chap. See this monogram here--it ain't T. M. B. at all. The
+initials are J. M."
+
+From the deepest shadows of the spacious veranda, Tommy Braden was a
+witness to the little scene. A slow smile of satisfaction creased his
+thin, patrician lips. "So much for him," he murmured. "That Mallory
+monogram was a great idea. Our trade mark--once seen, never forgotten."
+
+The game of golf was enjoyed by both men. They played a nip and tuck
+contest which atoned in competitive value what it undoubtedly lacked in
+skill. It was not until the seventeenth green when an impossibly long
+putt caromed off a match stick and clicked into the cup that victory
+finally perched upon the Morse banner. The little man was jumpy with
+excitement.
+
+"Great game--wonderful. Ain't often I meet a guy I like to play as much
+as I do you. Besides, most of the chaps I know can beat me--beat the
+tar out of me. I'm an awful dub. Say--we got to do this again--a--that
+is, I hope we got to."
+
+"We shall," smiled Tommy. "I've enjoyed the morning immensely."
+
+From the eighteenth green they strolled to the clubhouse where they
+indulged in long, tall lemonades which appeared to inspire Mr. Morse
+with no particular enthusiasm. "Got something in my room. C'mon and
+sample it. That is--a--if you care to."
+
+Mr. Braden was delighted--far more than he cared to admit. One glance
+at the suite occupied by the Morses and he was well satisfied that
+he had picked his victim competently. He knew just about what this
+suite was costing and his keen eye missed no detail of the many which
+shrieked new and amazing wealth.
+
+Mrs. Morse inquired interestedly as to the details of the match--a
+frequently interrupted and garbled account which had to do with lucky
+breaks, horrible kicks, phenomenal putts.... "We're gonna play again in
+the morning," finished Edgar. "That is--er--Mr. Braden says he wants
+to. 'Course I'm not blaming him for kicking. That last putt of mine
+didn't have any right going down. I always did believe that putting was
+too all-fired important in this game...."
+
+The fraternity of golf engendered a friendliness which would have been
+long in developing else. It was decided that they should dine together
+that night, and about five o'clock in the afternoon Tommy visited the
+florist shop in the hotel where he ordered a corsage bouquet sent up
+to Mrs. Morse. "Right here," he reflected, "is where the old dame gets
+hooked right. And at the same time I exterminate another bird."
+
+"Shly write the card?" inquired the obtrusively blonde young lady at
+the counter.
+
+"No-o." Tommy produced a card which he flipped across the counter. She
+glanced at it indifferently.
+
+"Cash?" she inquired, "or shly charge it to y'r room, Mr. Mallory?"
+
+He started visibly. "What's that?"
+
+"Shly charge it to your room or juh wanna pay cash?"
+
+"I mean--what was it you called me?"
+
+She glanced at the card. "Mallory. That's what the card here says,
+an'----"
+
+He snatched it brusquely from her hand. "Wrong card," he snapped
+making an effort to appear as though he were making an effort to appear
+unembarrassed. "Here's my card. You may charge it to Suite F."
+
+He whirled and moved away, his manner denoting extreme irritation. The
+rather fullblown young lady stared after him. "Now ain't he the pussy's
+ankle?" she murmured reflectively. "Gets sore because he slips me the
+wrong card. That ain't nothin' to get peeved about." An assistant
+manager drifted toward her counter. "Say, Gus--who's the flossy bird
+with the gray thatch which just rambled away from here?"
+
+The young gentleman shrugged. "I got worries of my own, Susie. What's
+the matter--he been trying to date you up?"
+
+"No. But he ordered a corsage sent up to some female an' he slipped
+me the wrong card. I looks on the card an' reads the name an' I says
+'Shly charge it to your room, Mr. Mallory?' an' with that he like to
+of bit my head off. He just about gives me the bum's rush gettin' that
+pasteboard which he tears up right away. Then he slips me this one--Mr.
+Thomas Matlock Braden--I don't see nothing to get excited about just
+because he slips me the wrong pasteboard, d'you? What difference does
+it make to me if his name's Thomas Braden or Jared Mallory or what
+it is. I reckon neither of them handles is gonna start no war--Say!
+Gus--for the love of Mike, what's eatin' you? If you feel like that
+you'd ought to see a Doc."
+
+The ninth assistant manager put out a delicately restraining hand.
+"Jared Mallory?" he said half to himself.
+
+Susie was annoyed. "Now listen at me, Gus--"
+
+"I thought Braden wasn't his name. Jared Mallory! Holy Suffering
+Catfish! Say, you ain't sure about that, are you, Susie?"
+
+"No. Of course I ain't. I only know it, that's all. If you think my
+lamps have went bad you can assort them card which he flang on the
+floor."
+
+It took the young man but a few seconds to recover the torn bits
+of pasteboard and arrange them in proper order. "Well I'll be
+darned--Jared Mallory is right. Say, lemme tell the Chief."
+
+Susie restrained him briefly. "Who is this bird Mallory--that you
+should get all het up over him? Who did he ever kill?"
+
+"Jared Mallory," explained the excited young man, "is one of the
+richest nuts in the United States: that's all. He's got a bankroll so
+big you'd have to have four eyes to see it all."
+
+"Then why the alias?" she queried practically.
+
+"This joint ain't Mallory's size. He's the kind of guy who thinks he's
+slumming when he visits a hotel like this. Is that clear now?"
+
+"Sure--sure it is, Gus. Clear as mud."
+
+It required just five minutes of the young man's time to transmit his
+enthusiasm to the manager. "Of course," counselled that dignitary, "you
+shall do nothing to embarrass Mr. Mallory. If he desires to visit us
+incognito--"
+
+And within ten minutes the manager had informed two of his particular
+friends that Jared Mallory, the millionaire, was registered at the
+hotel under the name of Thomas Matlock Braden. By dinnertime that night
+a dozen persons knew it and before morning Tommy was a marked man--at
+which Tommy merely smiled a thoroughly satisfied smile. "When Mr.
+Barnum spoke his famous words," he soliloquized, "he must have been
+timing things with a slow watch."
+
+It was fully forty-eight hours before the rumor of Braden's identity
+reached the ears of Mrs. Edgar H. Morse. At receipt of the tidings
+she almost collapsed. "That's right--I knew all the time he was
+somebody tremendous." And she proceeded to recount the incident of the
+monogrammed cigarettes.
+
+But it was in the privacy of the Morse suite that the knowledge
+received a most thorough threshing out. "Golly!" breathed Edgar. "Think
+of me bumming around with Jared Mallory. Honeybunch! we're sure sliding
+up the social ladder now, we are. I thought there was something funny
+about those cigarettes. And he's a gentleman right--he is; so much of a
+one he don't have to be watching his step all the time. Funny he should
+like me--er--a--that is, if he really does."
+
+Thus far Mallory was merely a name to Edgar Morse and Edgar Morse was
+only a name to Tommy Braden. Each set in motion inquiries as to the
+other. Tommy's task proved the easier.
+
+Within five days he was in possession of full information regarding
+the financial and social standing of his prospective victim. He knew
+that Mr. Morse had been a ten-thousand-a-year man with an aptitude for
+saving until a certain wild venture in war babies had catapulted him
+into the multi-millionaire class; so suddenly, in fact, that neither
+the excitable little man nor his wife had yet adjusted themselves to
+their new position in life. Tommy rather liked them; they weren't
+the offensive type of _nouveau riche_--there was nothing aggressive
+or vulgar about either. And Tommy was convinced that he would not be
+doing them an injury by selling to them the Vanduyn pearls. According
+to Tommy's way of figuring the detectives would never suspect that
+handsome jewels in the possession of Edgar H. Morse had been come by
+illicitly, so that, under the deal he contemplated no one would be
+the loser. "No one except Vanduyn," he mused, "and that baby is stung
+anyway."
+
+Information regarding Jared Mallory came less readily to Mr. Morse.
+Mr. Mallory was not among those present in the Dunn and Bradstreet
+reports; but now that the great hotel was agog with knowledge of
+Tommy's supposedly true identity, scraps of information were working
+into a comprehensive--and rather flattering--whole. As a matter of
+fact the actual presence of Jared Mallory would not have excited the
+curiosity caused by Tommy's incognito. There was something irresistibly
+intriguing about a man who sought to conceal his eminence--something
+of greater allure than the eminence itself. Mr. Mallory--so general
+comment had it--possessed the wealth of Crœsus, the family tree of a
+Plantagenet and he was inclined to be more or less of what the public
+expressively if inelegantly terms a nut.
+
+Within a week all doubt which may have existed as to his being Jared
+Mallory had been removed. The manager had personally made occasion
+to visit Tommy's room when Tommy was absent. He found a half hundred
+cigarettes monogrammed J. M., one or two handkerchiefs with the same
+embroidered initials and an ancient letter addressed to Jared Mallory's
+New York address.
+
+But even at that Tommy was not entirely satisfied. He closeted himself
+one day with the manager and explained to him that a telegram might
+possibly come to the hotel addressed to Mr. Mallory; in which event
+it was to be delivered to him. No such telegram ever arrived, but
+whatever doubt may have remained to the manager was promptly and
+effectively set at rest. Nor did that personage maintain the secrecy
+which had been demanded of him. True, he passed the information only
+to certain intimate friends who, in turn, conveyed it to their own
+intimates--until the positive knowledge was the property of the entire
+guest personnel.
+
+There was, of course, an avalanche of attention showered upon
+the supposed Jared Mallory to all of which he was magnificently
+indifferent. He was courteous and frostily impersonal. He accepted
+one or two invitations with an air of bespeaking condescension, and
+through it all he vouchsafed his intimacy only to the Morses.
+
+But even with them he maintained a reserve. Edgar Morse, prideful of
+his recent success, told Tommy of it, thereby bringing no agony of
+soul to Mr. Braden; but of himself Tommy never spoke. He did mention
+casually an acquaintanceship extending from Cape Town to Bombay and
+from New York to Sydney; he spoke feelingly and with passionate
+intensity whenever the subject of jewels was mentioned and he openly
+admired an unusually handsome emerald which Mrs. Morse possessed.
+But not once was he other than Thomas Matlock Braden--even on the
+memorable evening when Mrs. Morse, carried away by her interest in the
+conversation, addressed him as Mr. Mallory.
+
+Tommy's forehead corrugated in a frown of annoyance. "What's that?" he
+inquired with frigid politeness.
+
+She flushed scarlet. "Why--er--you see, folks around the hotel say you
+are Jared Mallory of New York."
+
+There was no doubting his anger. His voice came in crisp and incisive
+negation: "I am afraid I am not responsible for gossip. I am not Jared
+Mallory."
+
+Ella Morse was flustered and her husband came eagerly to her rescue.
+"Now don't you go blaming Ella, Mr. Braden. She's been hearing so much
+about you being Mr. Mallory and all the folks in the hotel wanting to
+know if you really were, that she--I--that is, we--we've sort of called
+you Mr. Mallory to ourselves and the name kind of slipped out. It
+ain't any business of ours who you are--and we didn't go to cause you
+any embarrassment...." He paused and spluttered. Tommy stared coldly.
+
+"I understand, Mr. Morse. And I am sure that Mr. Mallory would not be
+at all flattered."
+
+"No--of course he wouldn't. He'd prob'ly be awful sore. That
+is--er--a--not because folks thought you were him--of course you're as
+good as he is any day in the week, including Sundays--but on account of
+his feeling--well you know what I mean."
+
+"Yes. I'm sure I do. But let's don't discuss it further. I prefer to
+remain Thomas M. Braden."
+
+"'Sall right with me, Mr. Braden. You can be Willie Jones if you want
+to and it don't make any difference to us, does it, Ella?"
+
+But after Tommy had parted from them that evening after a session at
+the casino, Edgar swung on his wife. "Goshamighty, Ella--wasn't he sore
+when he found out folks knew who he was?"
+
+She nodded. "Can you blame him, Eddie? Here he's taken all this trouble
+to make folks believe he ain't Jared Mallory ... I reckon he's terribly
+put out. But there isn't a doubt in the world that he's him. If he
+wasn't Mr. Mallory he wouldn't get peeved about folks thinking he was."
+
+The friendship between Tommy Braden and the Morses flourished after
+that little verbal clash. If unpleasant memory of it rankled in Tommy's
+mind, he gave no indication and his suavity and friendliness put them
+completely in his power. They drove together--in Morse's car--and
+Edgar and Tommy played golf daily. He shunned the society of the other
+guests, rigidly maintaining his attitude of impregnable exclusiveness.
+And it was after a fortnight of this that the subject of jewelry
+again came up: neither Edgar nor his wife suspecting that Tommy had
+introduced the subject.
+
+He appeared to become inspired. He thrilled them with romances of
+famous gems. The history of renowned jewels he had at his finger-tips.
+They were seated in the parlor of his suite, the air filled with the
+fragrance of excellent cigars.... "But after all," declaimed Mr.
+Braden, "there is only one jewel which is worthy the name."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"The pearl."
+
+They were in enthusiastic agreement. Tommy launched into an expansive
+account of the pearl fisheries which he claimed to have seen, he
+explained to them the mysteries of great pearls and enthralled them
+with his enthusiasm. And then----
+
+"I'm passionately fond of them," he confessed boyishly. "And I have
+something here--if you'd like to see it."
+
+A significant glance flashed between the others. The jewel-collector
+had been humanized by his hobby.... He opened one of his trunks and a
+few seconds later returned with a battered leather case of sizeable
+dimensions. They gathered near him at the table, and then, very slowly
+and worshipfully, he flung back the lid.
+
+The Vanduyn pearls smiled up at them in pink perfection. Mrs. Morse
+gasped with delight.
+
+"Oh-oh! How glorious!"
+
+Tommy caught up the rope of gems and ran them caressingly through his
+fingers. "They are among the most perfect pearls in the world--each one
+a match for every other one. Each has its history, its romance. It has
+taken me years to collect them."
+
+They were mesmerized by the magnificence of the jewels. And, while
+they stared under the spell, Tommy talked softly and well about them.
+He described the long stretches of sandy beach, the atolls and palm
+stretches of the somnolent South Seas--the slumbering coral reefs, the
+mahogany-skinned Kanakas. His voice trembled as he described the pearl
+fishing operations; the shark menace; the dangers faced by the pearl
+producers. He was a natural actor and he held the little manufacturer
+and his wife in the hollow of his hand. And then, just when it seemed
+as though they could no longer endure the glory of the thing he showed
+them--he snapped the case shut and turned away.
+
+In a second he had dropped back into his customary manner: scrupulously
+polite, a trifle distant, unutterably exclusive. But the Morses were
+no longer with him in spirit. They were dazed. It was Edgar Morse who
+sounded the words which brought a lilt of triumph to the heart of Tommy
+Braden.
+
+"I'm rather sorry you showed us those, Mr. Braden."
+
+"Sorry?"
+
+"Yes. I want them."
+
+Tommy smiled good-humouredly. "Then I, too, am sorry. I'm afraid there
+are no other pearls precisely like these."
+
+Tommy Braden knew he had builded well. He deliberately shunted the
+conversation from the subject of jewelry, knowing that the little man
+and his sweet-faced wife would discuss the pearls once they were alone
+again. Nor was he wrong. They were captivated by the sheer beauty of
+the things; and their suddenly aroused passion had nothing whatever to
+do with the intrinsic worth of that which they had come to covet.
+
+"If he would only sell them," she said wistfully. "They would cost a
+fortune, but----"
+
+"It isn't the money," he answered. "Mr. Mallory doesn't care for money
+and he does care for his pearls: that's all. I'm sure he'd never sell
+them--er--that is, I don't think he would."
+
+"We could ask him."
+
+"I'm afraid we couldn't. We might hint around ... that is, kind of test
+him out."
+
+But, somehow, they found that assignment unreasonably difficult. Their
+mention of the pearls the night following excited no response from
+him, but on the night after that he consented to again display the
+magnificent rope. He told them off, jewel by jewel ... but his manner
+forbade the mention of a sale. Talk of dollars and cents in connection
+with their flawless beauty would have been a sacrilege.
+
+Morse did essay one valiant attempt--"We'd be awfully appreciative,
+Mr. Braden, if you could help us get some pearls exactly like
+those--er--a--that is, if there are any."
+
+The other man shrugged. "I'm afraid there are not," he retorted briefly.
+
+Tommy was playing an ultra-careful game. He was making progress slowly
+but surely; casting himself in the rôle of quarry. And he might have
+continued in just that way had not something occurred on the ensuing
+day which caused him considerable apprehension.
+
+At first he did not see the Gargantuan figure which hulked at the desk
+and wrestled with the register. It was not until the stranger turned
+and surveyed the lobby through glassy, fishlike eyes that a premonition
+of danger smote him. His face hardened and he whistled sharply through
+his teeth.
+
+The person at the desk was not one to inspire any emotion other
+than the most intense amusement. He was a man of overflowing girth
+and lumbering manner. His clothes were grotesquely misfit; the coat
+flapped loosely about the protuberant torso and the material of the
+suit glistened with a sheen begotten of arduous wear. Beneath the
+pants-cuffs shone a brief expanse of cheap, lavender sox topping
+aggressive russet shoes, the toes of which rose to points. From the top
+of the vest there was exhibited a small area of lavender silk shirt, a
+purple polka-dotted necktie and a collar of insignificant height but
+amazing circumference.
+
+But it was the face which inevitably engaged the attention--engaged
+it and held it even more than the absurdly powerful gold chain which
+spanned the vest and held dangling from it a golden toothpick with
+which the big man toyed absently as he gazed about the lobby. The face
+was a fitting final touch to the ensemble. It was an enormous face; a
+pudgy, expressionless face; a face flanked by loose, pendulous jowls
+ruddily complexioned; a face like a great pudding set with two glass
+marbles.
+
+A casual observer might have believed that those eyes were sightless
+as they stared stonily across the lobby. Once or twice the man
+blinked--the process consuming an interminably long time. He yawned
+with his eyes, but it did not seem to matter whether they were open or
+closed. And at length he heeded the irritable summons of an excessively
+peeved bellhop and turned to follow that person into an elevator.
+
+Tommy Braden stood flatfooted staring as though at an apparition. But
+once the cage door closed, Braden crossed the lobby swiftly and glanced
+at the register.
+
+                         JIM HANVEY--New York.
+
+He turned away. He strolled out upon the spacious veranda where he
+lighted a cigar and puffed reflectively. Eddie Morse and his wife,
+Ella, would not have known their friend at that moment. Tommy's face
+was hard and bitter and there was fear delineated in it. He put his
+thoughts into unspoken words--
+
+"What the hell is Jim Hanvey doing here? Why should a detective like
+him come to a joint like this?"
+
+Tommy Braden, by dint of hard and untiring work, had risen gradually
+to the very top of his profession. The road had been neither easy nor
+undangerous. He had faced disappointment and reversal with a bravely
+smiling face--and now he had come to the point where he felt entitled
+to reap the fruits of his endeavor. Tommy had been the despair of
+detectives. He operated with an easy suavity and a level-headed
+cunning which sent them running up blind alleys in the futile search
+for evidence to convict, so that thus far Tommy had avoided the
+inconveniences of jail--save in the case of a single slip in the early
+days of his career.
+
+That single jail sentence rankled in Tommy's breast, and it had
+inspired in him a wholesome fear of state boarding houses. In jail
+one was deprived of one's individuality and individuality was Tommy's
+greatest stock in trade. He intensely disliked swapping his name
+for a number and his exquisitely tailored clothes for a uniform. It
+seemed a great pity that the state had no more judgment than to fail
+to differentiate between crude, lumbering crooks and gentlemen of the
+profession who operated with delicacy and finesse. But, after all,
+Tommy Braden feared only one man in the detective world, which was why
+he was so visibly disturbed at finding himself a fellow-guest of that
+one man.
+
+The following morning he played golf with Edgar Morse. He unbent more
+than ever before and dazzled the little business man so thoroughly that
+Morse's mind was not on the game and he lowered his course record seven
+strokes. "By Golly!" reflected Mr. Morse, "there ain't a doubt that
+this Braden or Mallory, or whoever he is, really likes me."
+
+Tommy was annoyed. He had been enjoying the cat-and-mouse contest and
+Jim's advent forced him to greater speed than he had planned. They
+walked in from the eighteenth green together, consumed large drinks of
+iced sarsaparilla which Mr. Morse insisted was excellent for the blood,
+and then Tommy made his way to the hotel while Mr. Morse selected his
+favorite putter and a half dozen balls for a session of utterly useless
+practice on the clock course.
+
+Tommy saw the hulking figure of the mammoth detective too late to avoid
+a meeting. He was perturbed but at the same time thankful that his
+introduction to Jim at this particular time should come while he was
+unaccompanied. And realizing the inevitability of a talk with Jim, it
+was he who spoke first.
+
+"Well, well, well--if it isn't my fat friend."
+
+Jim looked up. Heavy eyelids closed over glassy orbs with maddening
+slowness, held shut for a moment, then uncurtained with even more
+annoying deliberateness. There was no doubting the sincerity of the
+surprise which was reflected upon the pudgy countenance.
+
+"Well I'm a sonovagun! Tommy Braden!" Their hands met in a clasp of
+sincere cordiality. "It is Braden now, ain't it, Tommy?"
+
+Tommy smiled with rare good-humor. "Surest thing you know, Jim. Thomas
+Matlock Braden."
+
+"The whole works, huh? What's it feel like to be masqueradin' under
+your right name?"
+
+"Pretty good, Jim; pretty good. I've retired on my income."
+
+"Quit the game?"
+
+"Entirely."
+
+"That's fine, Tommy--fine. I'm tickled pink to know it. I always like
+to see a crook with sense enough to know when he's got plenty. There
+ain't nothin' like honesty, my boy, when you've made all the money you
+need."
+
+"That's what I figured, Jim. There wasn't any use for me to continue
+running risks.... Of course I'm not what you'd call a rich man, but
+then I'm pretty well fixed. And not being tied up with a frail, it
+don't cost me much.... You know how it is."
+
+"Sure, Tommy--I know." Jim blinked with friendly approval upon the
+other. "Dog-gone if you don't look like a million dollars ready money,
+Son. Silk shirt, trick pants an' everything. Say, what is there to this
+golf thing that makes sensible men dress funny thataway?"
+
+"Ever played?"
+
+"Naw! Imagine an elephant like me chasin' a dinky little ball over the
+meadows."
+
+"Better men than you have fallen for it."
+
+"Sure; I know that. But it's my figger, Son. The links wouldn't stand
+for it."
+
+Jim turned and walked with Braden toward the hotel. Tommy was
+ill-at-ease despite the apparent ease of his manner. Jim's face bore
+an expression of bovine contentment; he looked like a child--or a
+simpleton. Tommy knew that he was not a good man to have around, and
+yet he was afraid to protest too fervently that he was now treading the
+path of rectitude. Yet his curiosity shrieked for appeasement.
+
+"Funny to see you here, Jim."
+
+"Me? I reckon it is. I've been some awful funny places, Tommy."
+
+"Vacation?"
+
+"Uh-huh. An' I just naturally got sick of lowbrow joints. Besides,
+a lot of the big boys in your line of work drift by here during the
+season, and so I thought I'd try this seven-forks-dinner stuff for a
+while. Guy never gets too old to learn, you know. Of course I ain't
+like you--you're a gent an' you fit. I'll bet you wear a movie screen
+shirt for dinner, eh?"
+
+"Yes. Everybody does here."
+
+"But one. Say: 'jever see me in evenin' duds? No? Honest, I look like
+next week's wash hangin' out."
+
+"Doesn't exactly fit your style of beauty?"
+
+"No. I reckon when the good Lord gimme a knack of rememberin' faces an'
+understandin' human nature, He figgered His part was done. If faces was
+fortunes I'd be bankrupt."
+
+They attained the ornate lobby where, at the desk, Tommy secured the
+key to his suite. "Come up, Jim?"
+
+"Uh-uh. Got to stroll around: exercise, the Doc says. Gosh! how I hate
+it. See you later, Tommy. Awful glad you've turned straight."
+
+"Nothing like it, Jim. I never thought I could run across you like this
+and feel safe."
+
+"Shuh! I wouldn't bother you none."
+
+But despite outward appearances, Tommy Braden was uneasy. It wasn't
+that he was in any way connected with Jim's visit to this particular
+resort but rather that Jim's proximity was unhealthy for any gentleman
+who was upon transgression bent.
+
+Certainly there was no safety in continued procrastination. He had the
+Morses just about where he wanted them and he figured that the best
+thing he could do was to sell them the pearls and make his get-away. He
+knew there'd be no particular trouble----
+
+There wasn't. They dined with him that night, only Tommy being aware
+of the hulking lonely figure which munched by itself in a secluded
+corner of the dining room. Edgar Morse was radiant: he was exuberant
+over his record-breaking golf score and as the dinner progressed he
+went over for the dozenth time every shot from the first tee to the
+eighteenth cup. Tommy warmed up considerably. He even unbent so far as
+to say that Edgar was the first genuinely congenial person he had met
+in years. He hoped that their acquaintanceship might not perish when
+they parted, and--Oh! yes, he was leaving in a few days. He wished that
+there was something he might do to indicate to Mr. and Mrs. Morse the
+depth of his appreciation for the pleasure their society had afforded.
+
+He correctly interpreted the eager glance which passed between
+husband and wife. "There is," burst out Edgar, then bit his lip in
+embarrassment: "Er--a--that is, I was just thinking--I'm kind of crazy,
+I guess, and----"
+
+"What is it, Morse? Anything in my power.... You see, I have few real
+friends. I am more or less well fixed in a financial way, and in such a
+position one becomes distrustful of persons who protest friendship....
+Tell me what you were thinking."
+
+"I can't--really. 'Tisn't possible."
+
+"Indeed it is."
+
+"No. Can't."
+
+Tommy beamed upon Ella Morse. "What is it, Mrs. Morse? Certainly we are
+sufficiently intimate to permit frankness."
+
+She flushed. "Not to that extent."
+
+"Pshaw! If there's any favor--"
+
+"Well, it's this," exploded Morse. "If you wouldn't get sore--that is,
+if you understood--but of course I can't ask you because they mean more
+to you than just what they mean and--that is, it isn't like you just
+had them, and--Oh! damn it! I've got myself all balled up!"
+
+Tommy frowned slightly. "I judge you have reference to my pearls?"
+
+"No! No! Certainly not. That is, I didn't go to pull a bone, and--"
+
+Mrs. Morse leaned across the table. "Yes, Mr. Braden, he does mean your
+pearls. He's embarrassed because we both realize that it is utterly out
+of the question to even suggest that you part with them, and----"
+
+Tommy lay back in his chair. He had an infectious laugh and he now
+injected the full radiance of a pleasing personality in the laughter
+and good-humored glance he bestowed upon them. "So that's it, eh? Well,
+well, well! You folks certainly are funny. What in the world should
+cause you embarrassment about wanting to buy my pearls? Of course you
+want to own them. I'd be rather hurt if they didn't impress you with a
+desire for ownership. Why man! man! I'm complimented."
+
+Morse was beaming. "Dog-gone if you're not the finest fellow I ever
+met. You see, pearls like those are something that can't be bought from
+a jeweler ... and we both love 'em. We're not strong for diamonds and
+platinum and stuff like that. Pearls--they're classy and rich--and all
+such as that. And of course from the first minute we saw them we got to
+thinking how swell it would be if Ella could own them ... that is, some
+just like 'em."
+
+"There aren't any just like them."
+
+"Sure! We know that. Gosh! as if we didn't! Now if you were broke or
+something I'd have offered to buy them--but money doesn't mean anything
+to you, and--"
+
+Tommy's face had grown serious. He spoke with a rich tremolo effect.
+"You really want them that much?"
+
+"Want them! Holy smokes! man, you don't know!"
+
+"Very well. I hope you'll permit me to present them to Mrs. Morse."
+
+For a moment there was silence. Morse and his wife stared aghast at
+this man who offered as a gift a priceless rope of matched pearls.
+
+"Give 'em----"
+
+"Mr. Braden! I couldn't!"
+
+"Certainly you could, Mrs. Morse. You and your husband have afforded
+me an extremely delightful vacation. It would be a pleasure to present
+those pearls to you. After all, their intrinsic worth is not to be
+measured against friendship."
+
+They were dumbfounded. And at length Edgar Morse started to argue. He
+was overwhelmed by his friend's generosity, but of course it was out
+of the question for him to accept such a gift. On the other hand if
+his friend was willing to part with them at all, he would do both an
+inestimable favor by permitting him to pay for them--any price which
+Mr. Braden chose to ask; any price at all.
+
+"I'd rather give them to you, Mr. Morse."
+
+"Can't be done--impossible. Entirely impossible. But if you'd only let
+me pay you...."
+
+"You positively will not accept them as a gift?"
+
+"Positively."
+
+"I'm sorry. Very sorry. But if you put it that way, I agree to sell
+them to you. You may have them for just what they cost me--seventy-five
+thousand dollars."
+
+Morse's voice trembled with emotion. "That's wonderful of you, Mr.
+Braden--wonderful. And I realize that we shall remain indebted to
+you beyond words. The trouble you've taken ... the love you have for
+them...."
+
+"Let's don't talk about them any more, Morse. I shall get the pearls
+from the safe to-morrow and give them to you." He smiled slightly.
+"And if you should change your mind during the night and be willing to
+accept them as a gift, I hope you will let me know."
+
+But they did not change their minds. Instead they talked until far into
+the morning hours of this Genie ... this gentleman who, for reasons
+quite his own, masqueraded under the name of Thomas Matlock Braden.
+
+Nor did Tommy Braden immediately drop off into slumber. He donned
+dressing gown and slippers and sat by an open window staring out into
+the night. Tommy was exceedingly well pleased with himself. He had
+operated adroitly ... certainly there was no hint of suspicion in the
+minds of his victims. There was a profit of seventy thousand dollars in
+the transaction, no mean addition to his bank account.
+
+The presence of Jim Hanvey in the hotel was less disturbing now. Tommy
+smiled at the prospect of some day telling Jim of the deal which had
+been consummated under his very nose ... he knew Jim intimately and
+realized that he would see the humor of the situation. There was
+something irresistibly funny in the thought that this profit should
+have been turned within a hundred feet of the one detective in the
+world for whom Braden held a wholesome respect.
+
+Tommy was up early the next morning. The nearness of his triumph begot
+a shakiness of nerves which was not unnatural. Matters had moved along
+like well-oiled machinery from the outset. There had been no single
+hitch to beget doubt or worriment.
+
+"Hey! Tommy!"
+
+Braden stopped short to gaze into the expressionless countenance of Jim
+Hanvey. The elephantine detective was smiling vacuously.
+
+"'Lo Jim. Taking a beauty stroll?"
+
+"Uh-huh. Pretty country around here, ain't it?"
+
+"Beautiful."
+
+"Walkin' my way, Tommy?"
+
+Braden's eyes narrowed. He wasn't, but--"Yes," he said and they moved
+off together; Braden tall and slender and handsome, Hanvey short and
+thickset and shapeless; a human pudding in a serge sack. It was the
+detective who spoke first and his tone was mildly reproving.
+
+"Thought you told me you wasn't up to nothing around here, Tommy."
+
+"I'm not." With simulated indignation.
+
+"Then how does it happen that everybody in the hotel thinks you are
+Jared Mallory?"
+
+Braden threw back his head and gave an excellent imitation of carefree
+laughter. "That's the funniest thing that's ever happened to me, Jim.
+You know I don't look unlike Mallory----"
+
+"No-o, you don't. But on the other hand you and him ain't no twins."
+
+"Exactly. But the first or second day I was here somebody started the
+rumor that I was Mallory and there wasn't any stopping the thing."
+
+"You ain't been trying very hard to, have you?"
+
+"No. Frankly. It amused me to be mistaken for him."
+
+"No--er--reason?"
+
+"Certainly not, Jim. No one has told you that I ever admitted being
+Mallory, have they?"
+
+"No-o. They haven't--that's right, Tommy."
+
+"Well, then----" virtuously. "What more could you ask? I'm registered
+as Thomas Matlock Braden and you know that is my true name. To folks
+who have quizzed me on this Mallory stuff I've insisted that Braden is
+my name. My baggage is marked with the initials T. M. B. which couldn't
+possibly be twisted to stand for Jared Mallory. It certainly isn't my
+fault, Jim, if a lot of fool people choose to believe I'm someone I'm
+not, is it?"
+
+"No. I reckon it ain't, Tommy. Of course you can't blame me for
+thinking it funny--when I heard folks saying that you was Mallory. It
+looked kind of queer."
+
+Tommy dropped an affectionate hand on Jim's shoulder. "You can't help
+being suspicious of everybody, can you, Jim? Why, dog-gone your time,
+I've been running straight for so long it's a habit. That's why I
+didn't even use an alias down here. Goodness knows a fellow can't come
+any cleaner than to drop a dozen other names and use his own, can he?"
+
+Jim nodded heavily and blinked with interminable slowness. "I feel
+a heap relieved, Tommy. I sure would hate to see you try to pull
+something--and I'm glad we had this little talky-talk. Hope you ain't
+sore at me for thinking maybe there was something queer."
+
+"Not at all, Jim; not in the least. Wouldn't have been natural if you
+hadn't."
+
+Braden moved away, his last impression of Jim Hanvey was of an
+abnormally heavy man staring at him through glassy eyes. Against the
+background of rusty serge he saw a set of fat fingers toying idly with
+a gleaming gold toothpick.... "Poor Jim. He's a hound once they give
+him the scent but he is so anxious to believe that every crook is
+honest...."
+
+In his room again, Braden telephoned the Morses. Edgar Morse answered
+and made an appointment for three o'clock that afternoon. The pearls
+were mentioned: Tommy repeated his offer to present them to his friend.
+Morse was grateful, but yet found it impossible to accept so valuable
+a gift. He assured Braden once more that there would be no less an
+obligation despite the payment of a sizeable sum of money. Tommy was
+relieved.
+
+The morning dragged endlessly. Braden took his driver, midiron and a
+dozen balls and went to the practice tee where for an hour he slashed
+out clean, straight shots averaging more than two hundred yards in
+length. Golfer though he was, he experienced no thrill from the direct,
+cleaving flight of the balls: he was sufficiently a golfer to know
+that if his mind were not elsewhere the golfing results would be less
+satisfactory.
+
+His lunch was tasteless. His eye quested through the huge dining
+room for a glimpse of Edgar Morse and his wife. They were nowhere to
+be seen. He knew that they were either lunching in the grill or out
+driving. The hands of his watch progressed with exasperating slowness.
+He feared that something might go wrong at the eleventh hour ...
+occasionally he touched the leather case in the inside pocket of his
+coat....
+
+But he did not permit his impatience to cause a tactical blunder. It
+was fully ten minutes past the hour of his appointment when he rapped
+upon the door of the Morse's suite. Edgar answered in person. The eyes
+of the little man were a-gleam with eagerness. One glance at Morse and
+Mrs. Morse convinced Tommy that all was well. They were effusive;
+couldn't thank him enough for his generous offer of the previous
+evening and they hoped that he hadn't changed his mind--and that he
+wouldn't later regret having sold the pearls.
+
+A paean of triumph sang in Braden's heart. He extracted the pearls from
+his pocket and snapped the case open. Mrs. Morse gasped. He lifted the
+rope of pearls and personally fastened them about her throat. She was
+almost tearful with excitement.
+
+Edgar Morse produced a pocket check book. "And now if you will permit
+me, Mr. Braden--I--er--believe seventy-five thousand is the amount you
+mentioned."
+
+Tommy nodded. "Yes. That is exactly what they cost me."
+
+Edgar Morse held his pen poised. Rich color flooded his cheeks. He
+hemmed and hawed for a moment and then--
+
+"I hope you'll pardon me, sir--but how shall I make this check out?"
+
+Tommy frowned. "What's that?"
+
+"How shall I make it out--that is, er--to whose order?"
+
+"I'm afraid I don't understand."
+
+"Well, I mean--you know there's the idea around the hotel--that is,
+about Jared Mallory, and--"
+
+Tommy's voice was crisp. "Just make the check out to Thomas M. Braden."
+
+Morse nodded and wrote swiftly. He extended to Tommy a check for
+seventy-five thousand dollars payable to Thomas M. Braden and drawn
+upon the Loop National Bank of Chicago. "I didn't mean to give any
+offense, Braden. Of course you understand what I thought--that is,
+other folks were saying----"
+
+"Quite all right, Morse; that's perfectly all right. I have really been
+exceedingly annoyed by this silly idea that Braden is not my name." He
+folded the check and slipped it casually in his pocket. "By the way,
+are we golfing in the morning? I was hitting them mighty cleanly in
+practice to-day."
+
+Alone in his room again Tommy inspected the check. Veteran though he
+was, his heart was pounding. He had played cunningly for big stakes
+and had won a well-deserved victory. There remained nothing for him to
+do but pack up and get away; then to convert Morse's check into cash
+and disappear. He decided upon a European trip; Paris had not known
+him for several years and he longed for the sensuous pleasures of the
+Boulevards.... He ripped open the drawers of his dresser and the doors
+of his chifforobe: the task of packing promised to make up in speed
+what it may have lacked in neatness.
+
+Of course he knew that he must manage his going away carefully. Morse
+must not know that he was hastening his departure ... he'd carry one
+suitcase and send back for the trunks the next day, or else eliminate
+them from his scheme of things. The important task was to place a
+maximum of distance between himself and his victims in a minimum of
+time. He worked feverishly at his packing, pausing occasionally to
+glance at the check which had recently been handed him. He was a trifle
+sorry for the Morses, but, he figured that they could well afford to
+lose the money ... nor would it prove a loss unless by some mischance
+the pearls should be recognized and there seemed little likelihood
+of that. Certainly the Morses did not move on a social plane where
+they were likely to meet persons familiar with the Vanduyn pearls.
+They might, of course, boast that they had purchased the pearls from
+Jared Mallory and news of this might reach that gentleman which, in
+all probability, would start something. But, in so far as Tommy could
+figure, no one was suffering through the transaction. What injury had
+been inflicted upon the Vanduyns had been done long ago.
+
+It was a pleasing philosophy and Tommy Braden felt quite virtuous. He
+scarcely heard the light rap on the door. Only when the rapping became
+insistent did he open.
+
+Jim Hanvey waddled into the room. He wore a suit which he fancied was a
+tweed. It hung loosely about his ungainly figure. The golden toothpick
+was very much in evidence. Jim blinked slowly--"Gosh! Tommy, you ain't
+going away, are you?"
+
+Mr. Braden was flustered. He had a premonition of disaster. If only he
+could hold Jim off for a brief span of time.... "Just running up to
+Chicago for a few days, Jim. Coming right back. Merely carrying one
+bag."
+
+"Awful swell diggings, Tommy. How much do they sting you for this soot?"
+
+"Plenty, Jim, plenty. Say, how about trotting up to Chi with me for a
+day or so?"
+
+"Naw! Can't stir, Son. I've got to stick around here another day or so
+if it kills me. How long you planning to be gone?"
+
+"Oh! two or three days at the most."
+
+"No special business or nothing like that, is there, Tommy?"
+
+Tommy flushed. He had a disturbing presentiment that there was a menace
+cloaked beneath Jim's words. "Nothing wrong, if that's what you mean,
+Jim."
+
+"Good boy. It wouldn't be wise for a guy that's as well fixed as you to
+take another flyer. Of course I know there's plenty of temptation and
+all that--but the game ain't worth the electric flashlight, Son--not by
+a durn sight."
+
+Braden was ill-at-ease. "Wish you'd come along with me, Jim. I hate to
+travel alone."
+
+"Sorry, Tommy."
+
+"You'll be here when I get back, won't you?"
+
+Jim shook his head ponderously. "Nope. Don't reckon I will. Got to hike
+back to N'Yawk and turn in a report. I've been right lucky recently,
+Son; right lucky."
+
+Braden was relieved. "Landed your man?"
+
+"No-o. Not exactly. I wasn't particularly interested in that. It was an
+insurance company that sent me down here and all they wanted was the
+stuff. Interesting case, Tommy; awful interesting."
+
+"I'll wager it was." He crammed two suits of pajamas in the travelling
+bag.
+
+"You know," Jim's voice was easily conversational, "we'd almost given
+up hope of ever getting them Vanduyn pearls back."
+
+Tommy Braden sat down very suddenly. "The--the what?"
+
+"The Vanduyn pearls. Remember the case? Mickey Donley pulled it."
+
+Braden leaned forward. "I don't quite make you, Jim. Do you mean to
+tell me that you've recovered the Vanduyn pearls?"
+
+"Surest thing you know. We knew Mickey couldn't get rid of 'em so we
+watched the boys he was calling on. Trailed 'em that away, see? And the
+poor sucker that bought 'em off Mickey found a goat and sold 'em--and I
+got' em that way. I'm right lucky about things like that."
+
+Mr. Thomas Matlock Braden was dazed. He knew that Jim Hanvey was
+speaking the truth. And yet--He gave ear to the even monotone of the
+detective.
+
+"And say, Tommy; next time we meet I'll take you on in a golf match.
+I'm getting my first lesson this afternoon. I run across a swell feller
+last night. Guy named Morse: Edgar H. Morse. Know him?"
+
+Tommy stared. He moistened dry lips with his tongue. "Go ahead, Jim."
+
+"Well, Eddie Morse is taking me out on the links this afternoon. He
+says it ain't so hard if a guy is willing to practice for fifteen or
+twenty years. Think of me swinging a golf club. I'll feel like a sap.
+But anyway I like this bird Morse. Feel like I and he was buddies even
+though I never met him until late last night." Jim blinked slowly as
+he toyed with the gold toothpick which rested against his vest. "He's
+interested in joolry, too, Tommy. Me and him had a long talk about
+pearls and things. He knew all about the Vanduyn robbery; remembered
+the whole thing the minute I reminded him of it. Uh-huh, me and Eddie
+Morse got along fine together."
+
+Tommy Braden sought to readjust his battered scheme of things. Above
+everything, he was a game loser. A thin, twisted smile appeared on his
+lips.
+
+"I'm a fool, Jim."
+
+"How so, Son?"
+
+"For thinking that you are the idiot you appear to be."
+
+"Gosh! I couldn't be that, could I?"
+
+"Hardly. I take it, Jim, that you knew the person to whom Mickey Donley
+sold the Vanduyn pearls. You located him at this place and followed him
+here. You discovered that there was considerable mystery about him and
+also that Edgar Morse was his only intimate acquaintance. You presumed,
+of course, that Morse was the goat--and so you went straight to that
+gentleman and warned him against buying any pearls which might be
+offered. Is that correct?"
+
+Jim grinned in pleased surprise. "Golly! Son, you're clever. How'd you
+know all that?"
+
+"Just guessing, Jim." He rose heavily. "I'd better travel along, I
+suppose. I'm mighty glad you're not going to nab the poor fish who
+tried to pull the deal. You're a white man, Jim Hanvey."
+
+"Shuh! We don't care nothing for that feller. It was just a bit of a
+business deal with him. Hmm! So you're running up to Chicago, eh?"
+
+"Yes." And then--"Why?"
+
+"Oh! nothin' special. Except that if you should happen to be thinking
+of cashing a check which somebody might have given you on--well, say
+the Loop National Bank; I think you'd better change your mind. You see,
+the feller which gave you that check happens to be a friend of mine
+and just to avoid embarrassment I suggested to him last night that he
+should make out the check on a bank where he hasn't got any money. And
+he kind of seemed to think it was a good idea."
+
+Tommy Braden had the grace to laugh. He clasped Jim Hanvey's hand--
+
+"Thanks for the tip, Jim. You're surely a thoughtful chap. And one of
+these days we'll try some golf; what do you say?"
+
+"We sure will, Tommy--unless it turns out that I ain't got sense enough
+to learn the darn game."
+
+
+                                THE END
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78848 ***
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78848 ***</div>
+
+
+<div class="titlepage">
+
+<h1>JIM HANVEY<br>
+DETECTIVE</h1>
+
+<p class="ph1">BY OCTAVUS ROY COHEN</p>
+
+<p>Author of "<span class="smcap">The Crimson Alibi</span>,"<br>
+"<span class="smcap">Midnight</span>," etc.</p>
+
+<p>NEW YORK<br>
+DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY<br>
+1923</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1922, 1923<br>
+By</span> OCTAVUS ROY COHEN</p>
+
+<p>PRINTED IN U. S. A.</p>
+
+
+<p>VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY<br>
+BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK</p>
+
+<p>To<br>
+CECILE O. LOPEZ</p>
+
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#FISH_EYES"><span class="smcap">Fish Eyes</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#HOMESPUN_SILK"><span class="smcap">Homespun Silk</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#COMMON_STOCK"><span class="smcap">Common Stock</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#HELEN_OF_TROY_N_Y"><span class="smcap">Helen of Troy, N. Y.</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CAVEAT_EMPTOR"><span class="smcap">Caveat Emptor</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_KNIGHTS_GAMBIT"><span class="smcap">The Knight's Gambit</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#PINK_BAIT"><span class="smcap">Pink Bait</span></a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<h2>Jim Hanvey, Detective</h2>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="FISH_EYES">FISH EYES</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Clifford Wallace was noticeably ill-at-ease. He worked intensively yet
+mechanically at his post in the Third National Bank, within the narrow
+confines of a cage bearing the inscription Paying Teller Number One.
+Horizontal lines of worry creased his forehead and a single lock of
+white stood out with startling clarity against the deep brown of his
+hair.</p>
+
+<p>Beside him were piled great stacks of money divided into neat packages.
+Behind his back the huge doors of the cash vault gaped, disclosing
+more money. At the right of his cage were the inclosures of the three
+other—the junior—paying tellers. The marbled lobby of the big bank
+was a welter of discordant activity, of impatience—the clink of
+silver, the soft shuffling of new bank notes, the slamming of ledgers,
+the hum of banking during the rush hours.</p>
+
+<p>To-day was the busiest of the month for Paying Teller Number One.
+To-day came due the pay rolls of the three largest corporations in the
+industrial district of which this city was the metropolis. More than
+a million and a quarter dollars in cash occupied the cage with Cliff
+Wallace; a million and a quarter dollars in silver and bills, only a
+few of the latter in denominations of more than one hundred dollars.
+It was Wallace's task to make up these pay rolls and deliver them to
+the armed men who came with the checks. He was sorting the money now,
+indifferent to the exasperated stare of the little man outside the
+window who impatiently rattled his own modest pay-roll check for $208.</p>
+
+<p>Behind the irate little man a line formed slowly—two or three other
+representatives of small businesses, then a strikingly pretty young
+woman in a blue coat suit, and behind her, two stalwarts from the
+Garrison Coal, Iron and Steel Company. Cliff knew the proportions of
+the check they carried—$278,000. Real work there, work requiring
+intense concentration. It was so easy to make an error of a few hundred
+dollars when one dealt casually in single amounts greater than a
+quarter million. Cliff received the little man's check and counted the
+money deftly, cramming it into a canvas sack. He was visibly annoyed
+when the man insisted on opening the sack and counting the money for
+himself. Cliff's eyes sought those of the pretty girl and a brief
+glance of understanding passed between them. Both were taut of muscle
+and tense of nerves; upon the face of each was an unnatural pallor.</p>
+
+<p>The little man completed his count, closed his canvas sack and moved
+off pompously. The next man in line presented his check and received
+his money. So, too, did the next. The girl pushed her check through
+the window—the pay-roll check of the wholesale hardware company
+for which she worked; $728.56. With it she presented a leather
+satchel. Cliff Wallace unlocked the barred window of his cage to
+take the satchel. He placed it on the shelf at his right, the shelf
+containing the mountains of bills. Again that look of understanding—of
+apprehension—passed between them. They spoke with simulated casualness.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Phyllis."</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Cliff."</p>
+
+<p>That was all. Yet, save for those first glances, they avoided each
+other's eyes. The oldish-young paying teller sorted out the amount of
+her pay roll. And then, working discreetly, swiftly and dexterously,
+he piled beside it a small stack of new bills. In that stack of bills
+was a hundred thousand dollars; one thousand one-hundred-dollar bank
+notes. Once he permitted his eyes to rove restlessly about the lobby.
+They paused briefly on the gray-coated figure of the bank's special
+officer, who lounged indifferently near the Notes and Discounts Window.
+Apparently the bank detective had neither thought nor care in the
+world. Reassured, yet with no diminution of his nervousness, Cliff
+Wallace returned to the task in hand.</p>
+
+<p>Into the girl's brown-leather satchel he put the amount of her pay-roll
+check, and then he crammed into it also the one hundred thousand
+dollars.</p>
+
+<p>His face was ghastly pale as he faced her once more. The hand that
+held the satchel trembled violently. He conscripted a smile which he
+intended to be reassuring, and the smile with which she answered him
+was so obviously an effort that it seemed to shriek her guilt. For a
+second they remained rigid, staring into each other's eyes, then the
+envoys of the Garrison Coal, Iron and Steel Company coughed impatiently
+and the girl moved away. The paying teller fingered the $278,000 check
+nervously, his eyes remaining focused on the blue coat suit which was
+moving with horrid slowness toward the whirling doors that opened onto
+the street. And finally she disappeared and Cliff Wallace breathed a
+sigh of infinite relief. Thus far nothing had been noticed. He gave
+his attention to the task of assorting huge stacks of bills for the
+Garrison company.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the girl in the blue coat suit turned into the swirl of
+traffic on the city's main thoroughfare. She threaded her way through
+the crowd, walking with unnecessary swiftness, with the single thought
+in her mind of putting as much space as possible between herself and
+the Third National Bank. Her fingers were wrapped tightly about the
+handle of the brown-leather satchel, her face bore a fixed rigidity of
+expression, her heart was pounding beneath the plain tailored waist
+she wore. It seemed incomprehensible that the transaction in Cliff
+Wallace's cage had gone unnoticed. It had been so simple—so absurdly
+simple.</p>
+
+<p>And now she was making all haste toward the office where she worked.
+Cliff had warned her that she must return promptly from the bank in
+order that the inevitable investigation should disclose no suspicious
+lapse of time.</p>
+
+<p>She turned up a side street and thence into a gaunt, red-brick building
+labeled Sanford Jones &amp; Co. Biting her lips with a fierce effort at
+self-control, she entered the building and turned immediately into the
+women's washroom. Trembling fingers found the door key and turned it.
+Then making certain that she was alone in the room she took from the
+shelf a large piece of brown wrapping paper which she had placed there
+earlier in the morning—that and a bit of twine.</p>
+
+<p>She dropped to her knees, opened the satchel and took from it the one
+hundred thousand dollars. She felt a vague amazement that so much money
+should be of such small bulk. She arranged the bills neatly in three
+stacks of equal height and wrapped them carefully in the brown paper.
+Then with the package securely tied with twine she closed the satchel,
+unlocked the washroom door and swung into the office. No one had
+noticed her brief excursion into the washroom; that much was evident.</p>
+
+<p>Straight toward the cashier's desk she went, and in his hands placed
+the satchel. His eyes smiled briefly into hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Got back pretty quick this morning, Miss Robinson."</p>
+
+<p>She forced a smile. "Yes. Not much crowd at the bank. I did get back in
+a hurry."</p>
+
+<p>The bit of dialogue pleased her. The cashier had noticed specifically
+that her absence from the store had been of briefer duration than
+usual. He would remember that when the detectives made inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>She seated herself at her typewriter. Beside her, on the battered oak
+desk, she placed the innocuous-appearing brown paper package, the
+package containing one hundred thousand dollars. She was horribly
+nervous, but apparently no one noticed anything unusual in her manner.
+The wall clock indicated the hour of 10:30. From then until noon she
+must work.</p>
+
+<p>It was difficult. Her thoughts were focused upon the money before her.
+Once a clerk stopped by her desk to chat and his hand rested idly upon
+the package of money. She felt as though she must scream. But he moved
+away eventually. She breathed more easily.</p>
+
+<p>At five minutes after noon she left the office for her lunch. With
+her went the package of money. She made her way to the City Trust and
+Savings Company, an imposing edifice of white marble nearly opposite
+the Third National. She entered the building and descended the broad
+stairway to the safety-deposit vaults, noticing with relief that there
+was an unusually large crowd there. She extended her key to the ancient
+man in charge.</p>
+
+<p>"Two-thirty-five, please. Mrs. Harriet Dare."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare, now dead, had been Phyllis' sister. Phyllis had access to
+the box. Too, she maintained in this bank a box in her own name, so
+that should official investigation progress to the point of examining
+the safety-deposit box of Phyllis Robinson, nothing to excite suspicion
+would be found. That was one of the strongest links in the safety chain
+that Cliff Wallace had welded.</p>
+
+<p>The man in charge ran through his index and handed her a card to sign.
+Her hand trembled as she wrote her name: Phyllis Robinson. The old
+man took her key and his, unlocked the box and left her. There were a
+number of persons in the vault: One pompous gentleman ostentatiously
+clipping coupons from Liberty Bonds of fifty-dollar denomination; an
+old lady who had already locked her box and was struggling vainly to
+assure herself that it was thoroughly locked; a fair-haired clerk from
+a broker's office assuming the businesslike airs of his employer; a
+half dozen others, each reassuringly absorbed in his own business.
+Phyllis took her box—it was a large one—and carried it into one of
+the private booths which stood just outside the vault door.</p>
+
+<p>She placed the tin box and her package side by side on the mahogany
+shelf. A quick survey of the place assured her that she was not
+observed. She wondered vaguely why she was not. It seemed as though
+someone must know. But apparently no one did. Swiftly she transferred
+the hundred thousand dollars to the strong box. She was amazed to
+find herself computing financial possibilities when all the while she
+was frightened. It was an amount to yield seven thousand dollars a
+year carefully invested. Two persons could live comfortably on seven
+thousand dollars a year. And that meant every year—there'd be no
+diminution of principal. Nearly one hundred and fifty dollars a week.
+Every comfort and many luxuries assured. Freedom. Independence. Fear.</p>
+
+<p>She returned the box to its compartment and emerged upon the street
+again. With the money put safely away a load had lifted from her
+shoulders. She felt a sense of enormous relief. The danger mark had
+been passed, the scheme appeared to have justified itself. But now her
+nerves were jangling as they had not been before. She was frightened,
+not so much for what the immediate future might hold as by the
+experience through which she had just passed. No longer was she keyed
+up by action. Retrospection left her weak and afraid. She knew that she
+couldn't do it again; marveled at the fact that she had committed this
+act at all.</p>
+
+<p>She ate a tiny meal at the dairy lunch which she patronized regularly.
+At 12:40 she returned to the office, where she threw herself into the
+grind of routine work, seeking forgetfulness and ease for her jangling
+nerves. But her thoughts were not on the letters she typed; they were
+at the bank with Clifford Wallace, chief paying teller.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Cliff's inscrutable, rather hard face gave no indication
+of the seethe within him. He did his work with mechanical precision,
+counting large sums of money with incredible speed, checking and
+rechecking his payments, attending to his routine work with the
+deftness and accuracy that had won him this post.</p>
+
+<p>There was in his manner no slightest indication that he had just
+engineered the theft of one hundred thousand dollars in currency. Never
+friendly at best, he was perhaps this day a trifle more reserved than
+usual; but even had his fellow workers noticed the fact they would have
+ascribed it to the abnormal pressure of work. It was seldom that three
+big pay rolls became due at one time. And the handling of such huge
+sums of money is likely to cause temporary irascibility in even the
+most genial of men.</p>
+
+<p>The hour hand of the big clock on the marble wall crept to the figure
+two. A gong sounded. Immediately work was suspended at the long rows
+of windows. Then the little barred doors were dropped, the patrons
+of the bank drifted out gradually, and the bedlam of a busy day was
+succeeded by the drone of after-hours work—the clackety-clack of
+adding machines, the rustle of checks, the slamming of books, the clink
+of silver and gold.</p>
+
+<p>Pencil in hand, Cliff Wallace checked over the money in his vault.
+Paying Tellers Numbers Two, Three and Four made their reports first.
+Then Wallace gave his attention to his own cash. The door of his
+cage was open, so that the cages of the four paying tellers were
+temporarily en suité. Behind Wallace's back the door of the cash vault
+gaped. The vault itself was part of his cage, its contents Wallace's
+responsibility. He worked swiftly and expertly. And then, a few
+minutes before 4:30 o'clock, he presented himself before Robert Warren,
+president of the Third National. He was nervous and ill-at-ease. In
+his left hand he held a paper covered with figures. His face was
+expressionless, unless one was sufficiently keen to observe the hunted,
+haunted look in his cold blue eyes. Here was the crisis. He pulled up
+a chair and seated himself, after having first closed the door of the
+president's office.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Warren"—his voice was steady and incisive, giving no hint of the
+emotional strain under which he labored—"I have just checked over the
+cash. I am precisely one hundred thousand dollars short."</p>
+
+<p>The president's swivel chair creaked. The gentleman strangled on a puff
+of cigar smoke. His big, spatulate hands came down on the polished
+mahogany desk surface with a thump. His eyes widened.</p>
+
+<p>"You—you are what?"</p>
+
+<p>"My cash is one hundred thousand dollars short."</p>
+
+<p>The statement appeared to have difficulty in penetrating.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Mr. Wallace—that is impossible! An exact amount?"</p>
+
+<p>Cliff was more at ease. It was a scene he had rehearsed a hundred
+times, and it was developing just as anticipated.</p>
+
+<p>"I realize the impossibility, sir. But it is nevertheless a fact."</p>
+
+<p>Robert Warren's face hardened slightly. He regarded his chief paying
+teller with a critical, speculative glance. Wallace returned look for
+look. The president spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Please explain yourself, Mr. Wallace. Am I listening to a statement or
+a confession?"</p>
+
+<p>"A statement, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm!" Warren was himself again. Only superficially was the man
+genial. He had cultivated geniality as a business asset. Basically he
+was utterly emotionless. He realized that the thing to which he gave
+ear was of vital import, and as that realization hammered home, his
+demeanor became intransigently frigid. "H'm! A statement?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Your cash is—er—an even one hundred thousand dollars short?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"How does that happen?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm trying to find out myself."</p>
+
+<p>"You are quite sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, sir. I would not have come to you had I not been sure."</p>
+
+<p>Silence. Again that clash of eyes. "This puts you in an exceedingly
+awkward position, Mr. Wallace. Personally."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand that, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"One hundred thousand dollars is a great deal of money."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"The responsibility is absolutely and exclusively yours."</p>
+
+<p>"I realize that."</p>
+
+<p>"Its loss cannot but be due to carelessness on your part."</p>
+
+<p>"That is probably true."</p>
+
+<p>"Probably?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. I am not certain about any phase of this—this—unfortunate
+situation."</p>
+
+<p>Warren lighted another cigar. "Of course the bank will not lose. You
+are bonded. I must notify the bonding company immediately."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course."</p>
+
+<p>The younger man's poise seemed to get on the nerves of the bank
+president. For once in his life he had come into contact with a man
+more unemotional than himself. His fist pounded the desk suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Damn it! Wallace, what does it all mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"That that amount of money has disappeared, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"One hundred thousand even?"</p>
+
+<p>"To the dollar."</p>
+
+<p>"When did you notice the loss?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just a few minutes ago, sir—when I checked over the cash."</p>
+
+<p>"You rechecked?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twice."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been alone in your cage all day?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe so, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"You only believe?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't make a too positive statement. The cages of the other paying
+tellers open into mine. Almost every day the door between my cage and
+theirs is open for a little while. It is possible that that was the
+case at certain times to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not positive?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"But you believe that the door was open—in the regular course of the
+day's work?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"And you believe that one of your assistants took that money?"</p>
+
+<p>Wallace's face twitched, ever so slightly. "No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"No?"</p>
+
+<p>"Even if my door had been open, Mr. Warren, I don't believe they would
+have had a chance to take that much money."</p>
+
+<p>"But—but, Wallace—there are only four men in this bank who could have
+taken it—provided it was taken; yourself and your three assistant
+paying tellers."</p>
+
+<p>"I realize that."</p>
+
+<p>"And you say that you don't believe they could?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm! Do you realize the inevitable conclusion?"</p>
+
+<p>"That if they didn't, I did?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I realize that."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet you say that you did not."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course."</p>
+
+<p>Robert Warren showed a flash of irritation. "You seem damned
+unexcited."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe this is any time for me to become excited, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Robert Warren rose. "Come with me, young man. We'll lock the doors
+of the bank and check every cent of cash we have. There must be some
+mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"I sincerely hope so, sir."</p>
+
+<p>A careful check-up showed plainly that there was no mistake. One
+hundred thousand dollars had disappeared from the bank during the
+course of the day's business. It was gone. The three assistant paying
+tellers were nervous and excited. The cashier, a nervous, wiry little
+man, rushed around the bank like a chicken suddenly bereft of its head.
+The bank's private detective, a portly, unimaginative individual,
+strutted around the empty lobby trying to look important and succeeding
+not at all. He believed it incumbent upon him to detect something or
+somebody, felt that the weight of the world suddenly had descended upon
+his shoulders. But his brain worked in a single unfortunate channel.
+His attempts at deduction led invariably into the <i>cul-de-sac</i> of "It
+just couldn't happen."</p>
+
+<p>That was the reaction expressed by every bank employe who knew what
+had occurred. The thing was impossible. The paying tellers, who had
+worked in team preparing for the rush of the day, were all reasonably
+certain that the cash had been correct at the beginning of the day—as
+certain as they were that it was not now correct. Through it all
+Clifford Wallace worked with them. Tiny lines of worry corrugated his
+forehead. And when, at seven o'clock, it became evident that the money
+was positively gone and had disappeared probably during the course of
+the day's business, the president, the cashier and Clifford Wallace
+retired to Warren's office. The president and cashier were smoking.
+Cliff declined their proffered cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"I never smoke, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"The point now is," spoke Warren, checking off that particular point on
+his thumb, "that the money has disappeared and we must do something.
+The question is, what?" He turned his gaze upon Wallace. Cliff met the
+stare steadily and answered in a matter-of-fact voice:</p>
+
+<p>"The obvious thing is to place me under arrest, Mr. Warren."</p>
+
+<p>"Obvious, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"But Mr. Warren"—it was the nervous little cashier—"you don't believe
+Cliff stole that money, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not, Mr. Jenkins. Of course I don't. And equally of course I
+am not going to have Mr. Wallace placed under arrest."</p>
+
+<p>A flicker of triumph crossed Clifford Wallace's face, to be followed
+instantly by his habitual stoniness of expression.</p>
+
+<p>"I am perfectly willing, Mr. Warren——"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't a case of willingness, Wallace. If I thought for a moment
+you were guilty—or even could be guilty—I wouldn't hesitate. Not
+if you were my brother. But the thing is impossible. You've been
+negligent—probably; I'm not even sure of that. I understand banks
+well enough to know that a certain laxity of routine is naturally and
+excusably developed. It is my personal opinion that the money did not
+disappear from the bank. It either never was here or it is still here."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir." Cliff was calmly attentive.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to search every employe as he or she leaves the bank. That
+will insure its remaining here to-night. By to-morrow morning the
+bonding-company detectives and the representatives of the Bankers'
+Protective Association will be here. Whatever action they care to
+take, Wallace, will be strictly up to them. Personally, I wish to
+take occasion to assure you of my confidence in your integrity and to
+express the belief that this is an explainable mistake of some sort,
+which will be set right to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are not even going to keep me under surveillance to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, sir, but I believe you are making a mistake. You will be
+criticized——"</p>
+
+<p>"They can criticize and be damned to them."</p>
+
+<p>Wallace returned to his cage, where he busied himself arranging the
+shelves for the following morning. Then quite as usual he closed
+his vault doors, set the time lock, visited the washroom, and left
+the building after undergoing a thorough search. Once outside, his
+shoulders went back unconsciously. He knew that he had won. The very
+simplicity of his crime had caused it to be crowned with success.</p>
+
+<p>But he did not allow his elation to strangle caution. Every move in the
+game had been thought out meticulously in advance. He did not deviate a
+hair's breath from his regular evening routine. He went to a cafeteria
+and ate a hearty meal, although the food almost choked him. At the desk
+he telephoned Phyllis Robinson.</p>
+
+<p>"May I come to see you this evening, Phyllis?" He did that four or five
+evenings a week; they were secretly engaged.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>There was a distinct nuance of tremulous inquiry in her voice. It
+annoyed Clifford. They had threshed out every detail of this sort. She
+must keep a stiff upper lip, had promised not to betray any untoward
+interest in his comings and goings immediately following the robbery.
+But that was just like a woman, making plain in the tone of her voice
+the vast relief she felt at knowing that he was free. Wallace didn't
+like that. It was an indication of weakness, and weakness had no place
+in his elaborate scheme. Besides, he knew well that Robert Warren was
+no fool, realized that for all Warren's protestations of belief in
+his integrity, the bank president already had a detective shadowing
+him. He had anticipated that and a good deal more. He had expected
+to spend this night in jail, and perhaps several others. Certainly
+under observation. This freedom caused elation, but brought about no
+lessening of caution.</p>
+
+<p>At 7:45 he presented himself at the garage where he kept his modest
+little roadster, filled the tank with gas and drove down the street.
+This was a nightly ritual. Straight to the home of Phyllis Robinson
+he went; it was a rambling two-story structure set well back of a
+high-terraced front yard, its wide veranda blanketed cozily with
+honeysuckle—a modest place, one which had seen decidedly better days.
+Phyllis, an orphan, lived there with an aunt. The place was a boarding
+house. All very discreet and proper.</p>
+
+<p>She greeted him in the hallway. He was irritated by the patent effort
+of her casualness. He directed their conversation, they chatted about
+innocuous nothings until they were safely out of the house and in his
+little car, headed into the country. This, too, was a not uncommon
+procedure. Cliff was well satisfied with himself. The most suspicious
+watcher could have found no food for speculation this night. His
+actions had been the normal actions of an innocent man. He was acting
+just as he would have acted had he been innocent of the theft of one
+hundred thousand dollars.</p>
+
+<p>They mounted a gentle acclivity. The broad smooth highway dipped from
+the crest through a small woods. Overhead the full moon shone benignly
+over the valley, behind them the city, ringed about by furnaces and
+steel mills, gems of fire in the setting of silvered night. A red glow
+in the sky. The man at the steering wheel, calm and self-possessed,
+eyes focused on the ribbon of road ahead, thoughts busy with the
+epochal events of the day. Nor did he mention the subject uppermost in
+his mind until the girl spoke, spoke with a quaver in her voice as her
+hand closed tremulously about his.</p>
+
+<p>"You—you're free, Cliff?"</p>
+
+<p>"Obviously." The man was a poser; this was too perfect an opportunity
+to miss. He wished the girl at his side to be impressed with his own
+granite imperviousness to emotion. Phyllis shook her head; she loved
+him despite the fact that she knew his weakness.</p>
+
+<p>"They don't suspect you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. They couldn't. I went in to the old man and told him
+the money was gone. I didn't protect myself a bit. Suggested that he
+had better lock me up. And of course he didn't." He smiled grimly,
+pridefully. "The only danger point in the whole scheme has been passed,
+Phyllis. We're safe."</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm frightened."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. That's natural."</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all." He stopped the car as if to light a cigarette. "You put
+the money in the vault at the City Trust?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"When?"</p>
+
+<p>"Immediately after I left the office for lunch."</p>
+
+<p>"You went straight from the Third National to your office?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And the cashier commented on how quickly I got back."</p>
+
+<p>"Fine! Great! Sooner or later they're bound to connect us in this
+matter, and when they do they'll investigate your actions. It'll disarm
+them to learn that you got back to the office in record time; that you
+couldn't possibly have gone anywhere between the bank and your place of
+business. And now about the vault—you didn't attract any particular
+attention there, did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o. I'm sure I didn't. There was a crowd there, and I am sure the
+old man didn't notice me at all. I put the money in Harriet's box, not
+mine."</p>
+
+<p>He patted her hand reassuringly. "You were a trump, dear. And you're
+not sorry?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o—and yes. I know that it is wrong, yet—oh, well, we need the
+money. It means so much more to us than it ever could to that bank. If
+we're only not caught."</p>
+
+<p>"We won't be." His narrow, rather hard face was set. He argued as
+though to reassure himself. "The weakness in anything of this sort
+is preliminary planning. The average man who sets out to steal one
+hundred thousand dollars"—the girl winced—"makes plans so enormously
+elaborate that he cuts his own throat, minimizes his chances of getting
+away with it. For every detail that such a man plants he sows a
+possibility of detection. He isn't content with the easy, the safe, the
+normal. In striving for perfection, for absolute safety, he lays traps
+for himself. Remember this, Phyllis: a detective can make a thousand
+mistakes and, by doing one single thing correctly, land his man. The
+criminal cannot afford a single mistake. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." And then the feminine side of the girl flooded to the surface.
+"Cliff dear, you're so—so hard!"</p>
+
+<p>That pleased him. He wanted to be hard, cultivated a gelid philosophy.</p>
+
+<p>"Sentiment serves no man well, Phyllis. My hardness has made possible
+financial ease for us—and consequent contentment. I have no
+conscience. Neither has the average man. Conscience is the fear of
+being caught. We are all inherently immoral. It was not wrong for the
+primitive man to steal. He took what he could get away with. Right
+and wrong are products of legislation, of artificial ethical culture.
+They are not part of us; we are inoculated with them. They are utterly
+foreign to us. In taking this money I have committed no natural crime.
+By statute only am I a criminal. I am not ashamed of what I have done.
+I would be ashamed of detection."</p>
+
+<p>Silence fell between them. The girl shivered as though with a chill.</p>
+
+<p>"You are very convincing, dear. But I'm afraid that I'm terribly a
+victim to the morality of education. Of course you've convinced my
+intellect. But—since this afternoon—I'm afraid you can never convince
+my conscience."</p>
+
+<p>He flashed her a sudden apprehensive glance. "You're not getting cold
+feet?"</p>
+
+<p>"No." She shook her head sadly. "It's too late for that."</p>
+
+<p>"But you're afraid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I'm afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you're silly. We're safe now. The minute you walked through those
+revolving doors with that hundred thousand in your bag I knew that we
+were safe. The scheme is successful because of its very simplicity.
+We are to go ahead in our normal ways. There is to be no variation
+whatsoever in our way of living. In a year we will marry. A year from
+then I will get a position somewhere else. And then—and not until
+then—will we begin to make use of the money which we got to-day. We're
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>"From the law—yes. But not from ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>"Harping on conscience again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Pff! I have no conscience, no fear of the intangible."</p>
+
+<p>She sighed. "I must agree with you, dear. I've gone too far not to. But
+I wonder—whether it's worth the price."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed harshly and the car leaped ahead as his finger caressed the
+gas lever.</p>
+
+<p>"It's fortunate, Phyllis, that I'm practical. The thing that counts in
+this world is what you have—not how you got it."</p>
+
+<p>They returned to the girl's boarding house at eleven o'clock, stood
+chatting for a while on the front porch. Cliff wondered whether the man
+who must be shadowing him was witness to the tableau. He knew that the
+man must have been bewildered and apprehensive when they went off for a
+ride together—and pleased by their return. He fancied he could discern
+the person lolling in the shadows of the big oak across the street. He
+swung down the steps, whistling jauntily.</p>
+
+<p>Phyllis slept not at all that night. Cliff, serene and untroubled,
+slumbered heavily. For two years he had planned this thing, had
+surveyed it from every angle. He had made an intensive personal study
+of the men with whom he would have to deal: Of Robert Warren, the
+president; of Garet Jenkins, the cashier; of each member of the board
+of directors. He had studied their mental processes, had deliberately
+built up their confidence in him and his integrity. He had known in
+advance that Warren would do just about as he had done and that his
+opinion would sway the board of directors. He knew that the matter
+would be hushed up and that the investigation would be conducted with
+the most rigid secrecy. He knew that detectives would appear the
+following morning, would remain there for some time—and that they
+would find nothing. He knew that eventually the conclusion would be
+reached that there had been, in fact, no robbery at all, but that the
+hundred thousand dollars had never reached the bank vaults.</p>
+
+<p>He would be watched carefully for one month, two, three. Then the
+matter would be filed away as an unsolved mystery. Above everything,
+the bank was not desirous of a scandal. In the absence of sufficient
+evidence to convict they'd permit him his freedom. And the perfect
+normalcy of his life would convince them speedily that he was free from
+guilt.</p>
+
+<p>He reached the bank the following morning at precisely his regular
+time, not a minute early or a minute late. He held a brief conference
+with the three assistant paying tellers and apportioned to each his
+quota of cash from the vault, which was a part of his individual cage.
+Then quite phlegmatically he answered a summons to the office of the
+president. And as he entered the door he recognized in the three
+strangers who faced him the detectives.</p>
+
+<p>Cliff was somewhat amused. He knew that the glances they bestowed upon
+him were surcharged with deep and dark suspicion. Money had disappeared
+from the cage of the chief paying teller; ergo, the chief paying teller
+had stolen it. They'd start out on that theory—and butt their heads
+against a stone wall. He realized that Robert Warren was talking, that
+he was being introduced.</p>
+
+<p>"The detectives; this is Mr. Peter Jamieson, representing the Bonding
+company. And Mr. Carl Burton, of the Bankers' Protective Association."
+He hesitated a moment as he turned toward the third stranger. Then:
+"This other gentleman is also here to represent the Bankers' Protective
+Association. Mr. Wallace, Mr. Hanvey—Mr. James Hanvey."</p>
+
+<p>Cliff started visibly. Jim Hanvey! He'd heard of the man—a detective
+with an enviable reputation. But he had envisioned Jim Hanvey as a
+person tall and sinewy, and with a saturnine face and deep-set flashing
+eyes. This man——</p>
+
+<p>The hand which the great detective extended to him was limp and clammy,
+the man himself utterly negative. He was a large man, true; but his
+shoulders were rounded and from them the coat of his cheap ready-made
+tweed suit hung like a smoking jacket. Above a thick red neck rose
+the head—huge, fat, shapeless. Three floppy chins, an apoplectic
+expression, a wide, loose-lipped mouth. And eyes——</p>
+
+<p>Those eyes fascinated Wallace, not because they were marvelous eyes
+but because he could not reconcile himself to the fact that they were
+capable of seeing anything. They were large eyes, and round like a
+baby's. In color they were a passive gray—fishlike. They rested on
+Wallace's as their hands met, and then the lids closed slowly over them
+like a film, rising just as deliberately. It was more an ocular yawn
+than a blinking of eyes. Cliff felt within him a contempt for the man,
+instant and instinctive, then pulled himself together with a jerk. He
+knew that would never do. Jim Hanvey bore an international reputation,
+such a one as could not be attained through inefficiency.</p>
+
+<p>Jamieson was nearer Cliff's conception of an efficient detective.
+Medium build, dapper, dynamic, with blazing eyes and a competent
+manner. He liked Jamieson, knew that he would know how to cope with
+him. Jamieson was a practical detective, and Jamieson was there in
+the rôle of a friend. It was most decidedly to the interest of the
+bonding company to establish his innocence. Burton, too, radiated
+efficiency. He was tall and broad and had deep-set brown eyes which
+looked out keenly from under heavy lashes. He was there to convict, but
+Cliff did not fear him. Burton, like Jamieson, was too normal a man to
+inspire apprehension. But Hanvey, Hanvey of the slow-blinking, fishy
+eyes—Hanvey was a disturbing quantity. Cliff didn't like Hanvey.</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey was speaking. Cliff noted that the others deferred to the
+ponderous, uninspired-looking individual.</p>
+
+<p>"H'm! You're the paying teller, Mr. Wallace?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Kind of funny—the hundred thousand gettin' lost thataway, wasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Cliff was annoyed. The man wasn't even grammatical.</p>
+
+<p>"Rather peculiar—yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't got any idea how it happened, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"No chance of any one sort of slippin' an arm through the cage window
+and grabbin' it, huh?"</p>
+
+<p>Bah! the man was an idiot.</p>
+
+<p>"Hardly that."</p>
+
+<p>"Kinder makes us believe that it must have been done by somebody inside
+the cage. Ain't that so?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is the obvious conclusion."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now—so it is. So it is." Hanvey produced a golden toothpick,
+which he regarded fondly. "Awful funny thing how money gits to go
+thisaway. Awful funny. Ain't it, Jamieson?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—yes indeed." Cliff glanced curiously at the competent
+Jamieson. He fancied that Jamieson would appear annoyed by Hanvey's
+cumbersomeness. But instead he saw the two other detectives hanging
+worshipfully upon Hanvey's words.</p>
+
+<p>Peculiar—it was impossible that Hanvey possessed keen intelligence.
+And yet——</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey nodded heavily. "That's all, Mr. Wallace. I reckon that's about
+all I need from you."</p>
+
+<p>All? It was nothing—less than nothing. One or two absurd, meaningless
+questions; a ridiculous voicing of the thought that some one might have
+stolen a hundred thousand dollars in currency from under his very eyes.
+And Jim Hanvey was reputed to be a great detective.</p>
+
+<p>Cliff Wallace was bothered. The very somnolent heaviness of Jim Hanvey
+begot apprehension. He had no idea how to cope with it. The man was too
+utterly guileless, too awkward of manner. His ponderous indifference
+must cloak a keen, perceptive brain. Jamieson and Burton—well, Cliff
+knew just what they were thinking. He'd always know what they were
+thinking. But Hanvey—never. He didn't even know that Hanvey was
+thinking. He was an element which the paying teller had not foreseen.
+Frank suspicion was easy to combat. Through his head there flashed the
+shibboleth of the Bankers' Protective Association: "We get a man if
+it takes a lifetime—even though he has stolen only a dollar. It's the
+principle of the thing."</p>
+
+<p>He shook off the thought of Jim Hanvey, but throughout the day watched
+the ponderous, big-jowled man lumber about the lobby and through
+the cages, those great fishy eyes blinking with a deliberation
+which reminded him of a man making physical effort to remain awake.
+Occasionally Cliff looked up to find the glassy eyes staring at him
+through the bars of his cage, the detective's unpressed tweed suit
+against the marble shelf. His eyes would flash into those of the
+detective, then would come that interminably slow blinking, and Hanvey
+would move away apologetically. Once Wallace shivered.</p>
+
+<p>That was the beginning. Hanvey during the days that followed did
+absolutely nothing. Jamieson and Burton, on the other hand, worked
+busily and thoroughly. They pored over the list of customers for whom
+checks had been cashed on the day of the money's disappearance. And
+finally they came to the pay-roll check of Sanford Jones &amp; Co. They
+called Cliff into conference with them, Burton doing the questioning.</p>
+
+<p>"Who presented the Jones company check, Mr. Wallace?"</p>
+
+<p>Cliff steeled himself to impassivity. "Miss Phyllis Robinson."</p>
+
+<p>"You are acquainted with her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. We happen to be secretly engaged."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah-h!" Cliff saw a meaningful look pass between the two detectives.
+"Your fiancée?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you personally cash her check that day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You are positive about that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I cash all of the pay-roll checks; and besides, I remember
+talking to her while she was at the window."</p>
+
+<p>The detectives nodded at each other and Cliff was dismissed.
+Immediately Jamieson and Burton checked up the movements of Phyllis
+Robinson on that particular day. They learned that she had cashed the
+company's pay-roll check as usual and that she had been absent from
+the office only a short time. Yes, the puzzled cashier was positive of
+that—he remembered noticing particularly that she'd hardly left the
+office before she was back with the money. In answer to their query as
+to whether she had time to stop somewhere en route to the office from
+the bank, the little man indignantly protested that he recalled every
+detail of the morning and that she couldn't possibly have done so. "I
+never knew her to get back so quick before, and she never was one to
+loiter."</p>
+
+<p>So much for that. The girl had undoubtedly gone straight from the
+bank to her office. The Jones cashier insisted that she delivered the
+satchel to him personally. Jamieson and Burton then visited the banks
+of the city and its suburbs. The Third National was the largest in the
+district and they went meticulously down the line in the order of
+importance. At the City Trust they were informed that Phyllis Robinson
+rented a safety-deposit box. An inspection of her card disclosed the
+fact that she had not visited the box in two months. Nor had she a box
+at any other bank. Neither had Cliff Wallace.</p>
+
+<p>News of the investigation, received from the puzzled cashier, via the
+frightened Phyllis, elated Cliff. He was delighted to know that the
+two detectives were at work, and supremely confident that they could
+discover nothing.</p>
+
+<p>But Hanvey did nothing. All day long he lounged about the lobby
+or sat in one of the cages with his feet propped upon a shelf,
+surrounding himself with a haze of rancid cigar smoke. And always
+those blank, stupid eyes were turned upon the cage of the chief paying
+teller—blinking, blinking.</p>
+
+<p>Wallace did not vary a hair's breadth from the established routine of
+his daily life. He breakfasted at his usual place at the usual hour,
+snatched a lunch as he had always been in the habit of doing, dined at
+his favorite cafeteria, called upon Phyllis Robinson in the evenings
+and either walked with her or took her riding in his little car.</p>
+
+<p>On Thursday he drew his monthly pay check—two hundred and fifty
+dollars. One hundred dollars of it he immediately deposited to his own
+credit in a savings account. He had done this for years.</p>
+
+<p>On Friday he received a shock. It was a light pay-roll day—not more
+than a quarter million dollars had been set aside for the pay rolls.
+In the line was Phyllis, satchel in hand. He greeted her as usual,
+counted the packages of bills and rolls of silver. And then, as he
+unlocked the little window of his cage to return to her the satchel, he
+visioned the ponderous figure of Jim Hanvey lolling indifferently over
+the shelf; round idiotic eyes fixed unseeingly upon him. Fear flashed
+into Cliff's heart and the color receded from his cheeks. What was the
+significance of that? Was it possible——With an almost hysterical
+gesture he slammed shut the window. Hanvey's eyes blinked once, slowly;
+a second time, more slowly. Then he moved heavily away, playing with
+his gold toothpick.</p>
+
+<p>That night as Cliff was driving with Phyllis in the country—"That was
+Hanvey standing by the window to-day when I cashed your pay-roll check."</p>
+
+<p>The girl shuddered. "Ugh! He's horrid. Like a jellyfish."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder why he did that? He's never done it before."</p>
+
+<p>"Did what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hung over the counter while I was cashing your pay-roll check. I
+wonder if he suspects——"</p>
+
+<p>"That man! He looks like an imbecile."</p>
+
+<p>"Looks like, yes. But he is supposed to be a great detective."</p>
+
+<p>"It's impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"He's getting on my nerves, Phyllis. I can't help but believe that he
+suspects something. At times I feel a contempt for his obtuseness.
+Then I know that I'm wrong. He couldn't be what he is and be the
+fool he looks. And he doesn't do anything. He's never questioned me.
+He's never questioned any one. He just sits there and watches and
+watches—like—like a Buddha."</p>
+
+<p>Nor did the weeks which followed alter the situation. Jamieson reported
+to the bank officials that in his opinion there had been no robbery.
+Burton concurred. They had arrived at the definite conclusion that the
+money had never reached the bank. In answer to Cliff's statement that
+it had, they admitted that Cliff believed so—but was in error. Cliff
+refused to be convinced, and thus established more firmly than ever in
+their minds the fact that he was innocent of complicity in the crime.
+It was the theory of Jamieson and Burton that in securing the unusually
+large amount of cash from the District Federal Reserve Bank to meet
+the heavy pay rolls of that particular day, a miscount had been made
+at the sending source and the checking up at the Third National had
+been faulty. True, the accounts of the Federal Reserve Bank showed no
+surplus of one hundred thousand dollars, but both Jamieson and Burton
+were optimistic that it would eventually come to light.</p>
+
+<p>Cliff Wallace knew that he had been successful. No hint of suspicion
+had fallen upon him. The worst that had been said against him was that
+he had been careless in counting the money as it came into his vaults.
+He was sorrowful about that—ostentatiously so, just as he would
+normally have exhibited grief at any suggestion of inefficiency. The
+bank officials did not blame him. Most of them had climbed the ladder
+slowly and they were familiar with the nagging routine of the paying
+teller's cage, the inevitable liability to error. Undoubtedly, they
+thought, the money would appear eventually. It was absurd to doubt
+Clifford Wallace. Two detectives had shadowed him meticulously. The
+orderly existence of the chief paying teller was unaltered. He went his
+way serenely.</p>
+
+<p>To Wallace it seemed more than worth the trouble. Lying in the vaults
+of the City Trust was one hundred thousand dollars in cash, an amount
+sufficient to yield seven thousand income invested with moderate
+acumen. That meant leisure and ease for himself and Phyllis through
+life. He did not want anything more. He knew that he would never again
+be tempted to crime; not that he was morally opposed to it, but because
+it wasn't worth the danger.</p>
+
+<p>One hundred thousand dollars was adequate to their needs. He had
+planned this thing for two years. Now it had been worked successfully.</p>
+
+<p>If it only wasn't for Jim Hanvey, those wide-staring eyes. He couldn't
+get away from those eyes, from the insolent indolence of the man, his
+apparent indifference to the mystery he was supposed to be solving.
+All day he lounged around the bank; ignorant, bunglesome, awkward,
+inactive. He inspected no books, asked no questions, exhibited no
+suspicion of Cliff Wallace. Yet Cliff felt those inhuman eyes focused
+upon him at all times. And that incident of Hanvey's presence at the
+cage when he cashed Phyllis' pay-roll check—that was fraught with deep
+significance.</p>
+
+<p>"He suspects me," proclaimed the chief paying teller to his accomplice.
+"He knows that I did it and is just trying to find out how."</p>
+
+<p>She held his hand between both of hers. "I'm afraid, Cliff. Horribly
+afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"If he'd only say something! I wish he'd arrest me."</p>
+
+<p>"Cliff!"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean it. If he'd arrest me they'd prosecute, and they couldn't
+possibly convict. They haven't a thing on me. I'd be acquitted in jig
+time. Then he could go to the devil—Hanvey and those fish eyes of his.
+I'd be safe then—even if they found out later that I had done it."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that you couldn't be tried twice for the same offense?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why not induce them to—to prosecute?"</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head. "I can't. I've tried it, but old Warren and Garet
+Jenkins are convinced that I'm innocent. Jamieson and Burton both
+believe the money never got to the bank. And Hanvey just sits around
+like a hoot owl at noon and does nothing. It's Hanvey I'm afraid of. He
+knows! The only thing he doesn't know is how!"</p>
+
+<p>Two more weeks passed. Wallace's hope that Hanvey would depart proved
+ill-founded. The big, awkward man was there at eight o'clock every
+morning, and there he remained until the books were closed at night.
+He spoke to nobody save in the most casual way. Every other employe of
+the bank came to take him for granted. They were interested in him at
+first, but later accepted him as they accepted the marble pillars which
+stubbed the lobby. He was big and lumbering and uncouth, and gradually
+they forgot his reputation as a bank detective.</p>
+
+<p>But Clifford Wallace did not forget. In his eyes there had been born
+a hunted, haunted look. Hanvey's flabby, rather coarse face had a
+hypnotic effect upon him. He found himself wondering what obliquitous
+course this man was pursuing, what method there might be in his madness
+of inactivity. He felt like an ill man who finds himself daily in the
+room with a coffin. Hanvey's stolid demeanor generated an association
+of ideas that was irresistibly horrible.</p>
+
+<p>It was obvious that Hanvey suspected something, some one; equally plain
+that he did not suspect any one else in that bank. It must be, then,
+that he did suspect Cliff. And then he commenced visiting Cliff's cage.</p>
+
+<p>He did it only a few times. His manner was friendly, almost apologetic.
+But he had a mean insinuating way of appearing at the cage door and
+rattling the knob. Cliff would whirl and find those dull inhuman eyes
+blinking slowly at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Can I come in, Mr. Wallace?" And then once inside the cage: "Jest
+wanted to pass the time of day with you."</p>
+
+<p>Invariably, then, the same formula. A browsing around the tiny cage.
+A peeping into the money-stocked vault of the paying teller. "Gosh!
+That's a heap of money."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." Cliff found himself on edge when Hanvey was in his cage.</p>
+
+<p>"Never knew there was that much money in the world."</p>
+
+<p>Damn the man! Always obvious in his speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. Sure didn't."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey never mentioned the robbery. His indifference must be studied;
+all part of a net-spreading process. Cliff was frightened. He recalled
+the adage that a detective can err a thousand times and yet win; the
+criminal cannot afford to slip once. He regulated his daily life
+scrupulously. At the end of another month he again deposited his
+regular amount of savings. He saw to it that Phyllis did the same. But
+the strain was telling on him. His appetite had gone, dark circles
+appeared under his eyes. He wished daily that he'd be summoned into
+Warren's office to face the thing out with Jim Hanvey. He knew they
+couldn't convict, that they didn't have a thing against him. Even the
+box in which reposed their hundred thousand dollars stood in the name
+of Mrs. Harriet Dare, Phyllis' dead sister. Before her death Phyllis
+had been authorized in writing to be permitted to the box. Cliff had
+taken care that the box remained in the name of the estimable and
+defunct lady.</p>
+
+<p>He became moody and depressed, obsessed with speculation as to what was
+happening behind the bovinely expressionless face of the detective. The
+man's countenance was blank, but Cliff was no fool—he knew that it
+masked an alert mind. True, he'd seen no indication of that alertness,
+but he knew that it must be so. And Hanvey's inactivity was telltale.
+Hanvey knew that he had done it, and was waiting with oxlike patience
+to discover how.</p>
+
+<p>Sooner or later he'd learn. How, Cliff didn't know. But no scheme is
+so perfect that it can stand the test of unflagging and unceasing
+surveillance. And when he did learn—Cliff shuddered. He knew full well
+what they did to crooked bank employees. Robert Warren would be hard in
+such a situation—very hard, merciless.</p>
+
+<p>Then came another big pay-roll day, and Phyllis' weekly visit with the
+modest check from her firm. This time Hanvey fell into line behind
+her. Cliff saw him coming, and his face blanched. Phyllis noticing his
+pallor turned and stared into the expressionless countenance of the big
+unkempt detective. The color receded from her cheeks, too, and her hand
+trembled visibly as she shoved her satchel through the little window of
+Cliff's cage.</p>
+
+<p>His fingers were trembling as he counted the money. He chatted with
+Phyllis, the effort being visible and unnatural.</p>
+
+<p>The girl moved away and Hanvey looked after her trim blue-suited
+figure. Then he turned his froglike eyes back to Cliff Wallace and
+blinked in that maddening way of his.</p>
+
+<p>"Durned pretty girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." He was short, nerves ajangle.</p>
+
+<p>"Friend of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Awful pretty girl."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey moved away. Cliff staring after his waddling figure restrained
+with difficulty an impulse to scream. And when he left the bank that
+day he did something he had seldom done before in his life—he took a
+drink of whisky. Then he went to see Phyllis.</p>
+
+<p>He was but a nervous shell of himself when he took her riding that
+night. He was a victim to nerves. Insomnia had gripped him—insomnia
+interrupted by a succession of nightmares in which he was hounded by a
+pair of glassy eyes which blinked slowly, interminably.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all off, Phyllis."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hanvey knows I did it. Sooner or later he'll figure out how."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought—to-day—when he hung over the counter——"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid he's about worked it out. We're near the ragged edge."</p>
+
+<p>She commenced to cry. "Cliff——"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't weep. It isn't going to do us a bit of good. The man is driving
+me crazy. I tell you there's only one thing to do."</p>
+
+<p>"And that is——"</p>
+
+<p>"Confess."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh-h-h!"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed bitterly. "Don't worry. They'll never know you had anything
+to do with it. You get the money out in the morning. Bring it to me
+just as it stands—wrapped in brown paper. I'll carry it to old man
+Warren. I'll offer to solve the mystery and see that the money is
+returned in exchange for a promise of immunity."</p>
+
+<p>"Will he keep his promise?"</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely. He's that sort. He'd not prosecute anyway. It would injure
+the bank's reputation. A bank always prefers to hush up this sort
+of thing. They prosecute only when it's been very flagrant or when
+they have to secure a conviction so that the bonding company will be
+responsible for their loss. So, to-morrow——"</p>
+
+<p>She rested her head briefly against his shoulder. "You're right, Cliff.
+And I'll be glad when it's all over. So very, very glad. I've been
+afraid, dear."</p>
+
+<p>She delivered the money to him at eleven o'clock the following morning.
+It was Saturday; the bank closed at twelve. He saw the eyes of Jim
+Hanvey blinking accusingly at him through the morning, and found
+himself trembling. Suppose Hanvey should accuse him at this moment,
+when he was on the verge of confession?</p>
+
+<p>Noon. The great doors of the bank were closed. Cliff locked his cage,
+tucked the brown paper package under his arm and closeted himself
+with the president. During the walk across the lobby he had felt the
+horrible knowing eyes of the detective fastened upon him, leechlike.</p>
+
+<p>The scene with Robert Warren developed just as he had anticipated. The
+president readily promised immunity, the cash was produced and counted.
+Warren was shocked and genuinely grieved. He was considerate enough to
+refrain from questioning as to the identity of the accomplice, although
+Cliff felt that the man knew.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, he said, Cliff could consider himself discharged. The matter
+would never become known; the bank sought no such notoriety. Mr.
+Warren trusted that this would be a lesson to Cliff; he was sure that
+conscience had wrung this confession from the young man. Cliff acted
+his part adequately.</p>
+
+<p>But all the time his heart was singing. A load had been removed. His
+fear of Jim Hanvey had turned into a deep, passionate, personal hatred.
+He felt that he'd like to fasten his fingers in that fat, flabby throat.</p>
+
+<p>He swung out of the president's office. The loss of the hundred
+thousand dollars meant little as against the relief he experienced in
+the freedom from fear of those mesmeric, expressionless eyes. As he
+stepped into the lobby he felt them fastened upon him.</p>
+
+<p>Cliff couldn't resist the impulse. Pent-up emotion demanded expression
+in words. Cliff knew that he must tell this heavy-set, slow-moving man
+that he had been outwitted. He strode across the lobby and pulled up
+short before the detective.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Hanvey, you're too late."</p>
+
+<p>The eyelids dropped slowly, then opened even more slowly. "Huh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beat you to it." Cliff was gripped by a moderate hysteria. "I've
+fixed everything—for myself. You don't get a bit of glory. And I
+wanted the satisfaction of telling you that I've known from the first
+you suspected me."</p>
+
+<p>Jim Hanvey's fishy eyes opened wide, then narrowed. His fat fingers
+fumbled awkwardly with the glittering gold toothpick. His demeanor was
+one of bewilderment and utter lack of comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"What you talkin' about, son? Suspected you of what?"</p>
+
+<p>Cliff felt suddenly cold. There was a disquieting ring of truth in
+the drawling voice. Was it possible that this hulk of a man had not
+suspected him, that the confession had been unnecessary? His trembling
+hands sought the pudgy shoulders of the detective.</p>
+
+<p>"You've been watching me and my cage, haven't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Well—why?"</p>
+
+<p>The big man's manner was genial, friendly. His dull round eyes blinked
+and his voice dropped discreetly. "Jest between us, son, I reckon there
+ain't no harm in me explainin'. 'Bout three years ago Spade Gormon,
+cleverest forger in the country, pulled an awful neat job in Des
+Moines. Then he dropped outa sight. We ain't heard nothin' of him till
+Headquarters got the tip he was operatin' in this district. We knew
+good and well if he was he'd sooner or later try to slip a bum check
+over on this bank, it bein' the biggest one hereabouts. So as I know
+Spade pretty well an' personal, they sent me down here to loaf around
+until he showed up."</p>
+
+<p>Cliff Wallace's hands dropped limply to his sides. It was hard to
+understand. "Then you weren't even working on my case?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I wasn't workin' on your case. An' if you went an' confessed
+anything, you probably done yourself an awful dirty trick. Far as I'm
+concerned, son, I ain't even been interested in your case since I got
+an inside tip it had been dropped."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="HOMESPUN_SILK">HOMESPUN SILK</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Jim Hanvey was not at all the type of man one envisions when the word
+"detective" is mentioned. He was immoderately large and shapeless
+and his cheap ready-made clothes flapped grotesquely about the
+ungainly figure. Above a collar of inconsequential height but amazing
+circumference arose a huge head which contained a face of incarnadined
+complexion, scant and unkempt hair, pendulous jowls and twin chins. His
+lips were large and loose, ears flappy, and his eyes——</p>
+
+<p>The eyes were the outstanding feature of Jim Hanvey's topography.
+They were strikingly inexpressive; great sleepy orbs of fishy hue,
+impressing one with the idea of sightlessness. It seemed impossible
+that those eyes were capable of vision. They sat glassily in the
+red pudgy face beneath a hedge of overdeveloped brows. And Jim's
+blinking—as a matter of fact, he didn't blink; he yawned with his
+eyelids. An interminably slow process of drooping the lids over
+the dull-gray eyes, of holding them shut for a moment, and then of
+uncurtaining them with even more maddening deliberation.</p>
+
+<p>Jim emerged heavily from the dilapidated taxicab which screeched to a
+halt before the ornate portals of the Hanover Apartments. He turned
+hesitantly toward the taxidriver, who made no effort to conceal the
+vastness of his contempt. "How much I owe you, son?"</p>
+
+<p>The meter was consulted—a mere matter of form. "Dollar forty."</p>
+
+<p>Jim Hanvey whistled in protest as he counted out one wrinkled dollar
+bill, a quarter, a dime and a nickel. Then as he waddled into the
+Hanover he shook his head slowly. "Dollar forty! Holy smokes! An' I
+thought I knew every professional crook in America."</p>
+
+<p>He walked uncertainly through the cheaply magnificent lobby. The ebony
+lad at the switchboard eyed him insolently. Jim paused, toying with a
+gold toothpick which hung suspended from a watchchain of hawserlike
+proportions.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Arthur Sherwood in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh. Who wants to see him?"</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey's bushy eyebrows arched in surprise. "Why, me, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Who you is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hanvey is my name. Mr. James Hanvey."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh!" The boy plugged in viciously, and then, into the transmitter:
+"That you, Mistuh Sherwood?... There's a guy down here wants to see
+you.... Says his name is James Hanvey.... Yeh! Hanvey.... All right,
+suh." He turned back and vouchsafed his information grudgingly. "Mistuh
+Sherwood says come right up. Apahtment Fo'-twelve."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey moved a couple of steps toward the elevator, then turned for a
+moment. "Son!"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Next time I come remember I ain't no guy. I'm a feller."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood answered Hanvey's ring in person; a slender man of medium
+height, distinguished in appearance, exquisitely groomed, very much at
+ease. He ushered his visitor into a richly comfortable library, where
+he motioned toward a chair, into which Hanvey thumped gratefully. He
+stared about the room in frank approval.</p>
+
+<p>"Awful soft, eh, Arthur?"</p>
+
+<p>The host smiled, exhibiting twin rows of even white teeth. "Rather
+comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>"Business must be good."</p>
+
+<p>"It is. Very."</p>
+
+<p>"H'mph!"</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey yawned with his eyes, inspecting the rich furnishings, which
+gave testimony to the unerringly fastidious taste of the owner. Still
+gazing Jim produced from a tarnished almost-silver cigar case two
+projectiles of profound blackness. He handed one to Sherwood, who
+accepted it gingerly, smelled of it suspiciously, and then emitted a
+single exclamation of protest.</p>
+
+<p>"It ain't the worst in the world," remarked Hanvey. Sherwood produced
+a bottle and glasses. Hanvey joined him with gusto. "Here's to you,
+Arthur. May the judge give you a light sentence."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood smiled with his lips, but in his eyes lay a faint light of
+apprehension. He made no comment upon the detective's toast. For a few
+minutes silence maintained between them, Hanvey draining his liquor at
+a gulp, Sherwood sipping his with the relish of a connoisseur. It was
+the visitor who broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>"It's gonna be pretty tough, Arthur—givin' up all of this."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-huh. But you shouldn't have done it."</p>
+
+<p>It was patent that Sherwood was very much on guard. "Done what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Steal them jools off Mrs. Haley."</p>
+
+<p>"I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh—you. It was a pretty slick piece of work, Arthur. But it wasn't
+quite slick enough."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood seated himself opposite the detective and crossed one leg over
+the other. He lighted a cigar of his own, a rich, fragrant, expensive
+thing.</p>
+
+<p>His tone was quietly argumentative as he replied:</p>
+
+<p>"I think it was slick enough, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, Arthur! I'm s'prised at you."</p>
+
+<p>"I was a bit surprised at myself, Jim. As a matter of fact, I don't
+believe you're going to arrest me for that little affair."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can't prove a thing. And if you arrest me without sufficient
+evidence to convict, you'll have the double disappointment of seeing
+yourself made ridiculous while I go free. And safe."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey nodded agreement. "You're an awful plausible talker, Arthur." He
+leaned forward in his chair. "Just between friends—you did steal them
+jools, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Between friends?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-huh."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I stole them. But you can't prove it, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"M'm! I could arrest you now an' say that you confessed you stole 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"It wouldn't help you. Any flatfoot can do that any time he wishes—but
+it doesn't secure a conviction. What you need, Jim, is evidence—and
+evidence is the one thing you can't get. If you arrest me and say that
+I confessed I'll simply deny it, and where will you be? You need proof,
+my boy; proof."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey reflected heavily.</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon you're right, Arthur. I was hoping you wouldn't put me to all
+the trouble of gettin' it. I was hopin' to get away on a little fishin'
+trip."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood was more at ease. "What makes you think I got that stuff?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it, Arthur; I know it. I suspected it, and
+then I checked up. I'll hand you one thing, son—you sure
+are—what-you-call-it?—an opportunist."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are. I'm handlin' this affair for the company that Mrs. Haley's
+jools was insured in, and I've been down to N'Yawlins checkin' up. I
+reckon I know more about this affair than you do."</p>
+
+<p>"That's interesting."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't it? An' seein' that you've been so frank as to admit that you
+done it, p'r'aps you'd like to know what I know about it myself, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>Jim's voice, flat and expressionless, seemed to fill the expensively
+furnished room.</p>
+
+<p>"Startin' at the beginnin', Arthur, there was Mrs. Grover Haley,
+wife of the president of the L. R. &amp; C. Railroad. Hubby traveled
+the usual route to sudden wealth—engine wiper, fireman, engineer,
+superintendent. Then he made a killing in oil. They elected him
+president of the road. Worth close onto twenty millions now. Lives
+in Chicago. His wife—she ain't exactly one of these here sylphs. He
+married her when he was a fireman. He's president of the road now, but
+she's still a fireman's wife. Fightin' all the time to rise up, but not
+succeedin' specially well.</p>
+
+<p>"This here Mrs. Haley ain't strong on polish, but she's got the old
+ambish by the tail on a downhill pull. Far as her appearance is
+concerned—she ain't got any. She's sort of the same upholstery style
+that I am. An' the only thing she craves in this world is society; none
+of your pikin' society, either, but the genuine stuff; the kind that
+even twenty millions can't buy. For seven years she's been trying to
+jimmy into the real crowd, an' meetin' with about as much success as
+an oyster in a hurdle race." He paused briefly. "I've got it pretty
+straight so far, haven't I, Arthur?"</p>
+
+<p>The other man smiled. "That much is fairly common knowledge."</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon it is. Well, to go on, this here Mrs. Haley starts out from
+Chicago about a month ago in her private car, headed for Palm Beach by
+way of Memphis an' N'Yawlins. She carries with her a maid an' a chef
+an' a butler. Also she carries with her about one hundred and fifty
+thousand dollars' worth of joolry which she plans to wear all at one
+time, just to prove that she's a lady. An' about the time she makes her
+plans a certain Mr. Arthur Sherwood, who is playin' the races down in
+N'Yawlins, gets wind of it and decides to make a play for them stones.</p>
+
+<p>"Far as I can see, Arthur, you started out without any definite plan.
+Opportunist—ain't that the word I used before? You figured that all
+you needed was to get close enough to them jools for a long enough time
+an' they were yours. An' so, as society is your fad, you went an' had
+some cards engraved which announced that you was Mr. Albert Grinnell
+Stoneham, said Mr. Stoneham bein' the son of one of the most exclusive
+families socially in New York, where they have society as is society.</p>
+
+<p>"You meet the train at Memphis and just after leaving there your card
+goes back to Mrs. Haley, an' that dame nearly drops dead with joy. To
+make it brief, she lassoes the son of the great Stoneham family and
+makes him her guest. It looks like the first real break-in she's made
+in seven years, as it gives her an elegant excuse to drop in on Pa and
+Ma Stoneham when she gets to New York next time. And so Mr. Sherwood,
+alias Mr. Stoneham, gets an awful warm welcome on the private car, an'
+Mrs. Haley wears a hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of joolry
+every time she comes within range of his eyes." Jim lighted another
+cigar. "Wasn't your fingers itching to grab them stones an' run,
+Arthur?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very fond of jewelry, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! Or you wouldn't have taken all them chances. I've checked up,
+you see. To get ahead: You reached N'Yawlins at eight o'clock. You
+had been down there at the races, an' you had gone to Memphis to meet
+that train. The car was going out on a Jacksonville train at six the
+next morning. An' you asked Mrs. Haley wouldn't she like to go for a
+sightseeing drive. You went out an' hired a big touring car an' you
+went for the drive. You gave her an awful good feed at Emil's—they say
+you know how to order a swell dinner, Arthur—an' about ten o'clock
+that night you showed up at the Spanish Fort Inn.</p>
+
+<p>"Out there you had a swell time. Bein' known to the head waiter, not to
+mention the proprietor, the sky was the limit. You had cocktails an'
+champagne an' maybe even a liqueur or six. Poor Mrs. Haley, thinkin'
+she was in Rome, done as the Romans did, an', to put it mild an'
+polite, got sweetly spifflicated. Not drunk, but terribly happy. She
+found herself sittin' on top of the world an' didn't care who saw her.
+You left the inn about two in the <span class="allsmcap">A.M.</span> an' Mrs. Haley insisted
+on sittin' in front with you so's she could drive the car. You wasn't
+particularly keen about it, but you didn't kick hard enough, because
+same is what she done, the shoffer reclinin' in the back.</p>
+
+<p>"The old dame had started out to prove she could drive—an' she
+proved it. I reckon she must have busted sixty sev'ral times comin'
+into the city. Ol' gal was just naturally havin' a helluva time. That
+is, she was until you got 'most home. It was there that somethin'
+happened—because it was there, Arthur, that a cop seen the speed you
+was goin' at an' tried to stop you. An' poor Mrs. Haley, not carin'
+nothin' for no cops, with a bunch of drinks inside her, ran into him!</p>
+
+<p>"What happened then, Arthur"—and Jim Hanvey shook his enormous head
+reprovingly—"was downright unfortunate. The cop was stunned. You
+stopped your car, an' just when you did the cop moved, indicating that
+he wasn't so terribly hurt. With which the missus slipped into gear,
+stepped on the gas an' let 'er rip. Cop fired one time in the air an'
+you were free. Mrs. Haley drove that car to somewhere in the French
+quarter, you got out an' slipped the scared shoffer a nice piece of
+change to keep mum, and back you beat it to the private car.</p>
+
+<p>"That's where good luck played into your hands, Arthur; right plumb
+into 'em. Bein' an opportunist——Say! That's a swell word, ain't it? I
+got it out of the dictionary before I come here. Bein' an opportunist
+like I was sayin', you'd just stuck around with the fat dame, knowin'
+that sooner or later you'd get a chance at them jools. An' kerflooie,
+her cop-knockin' experience puts everything in your paws. How? Because
+you knew darned good an' well that shoffer was goin' to lay pretty low
+on account of what they'd give him if they ever found out it was his
+car. The farther away he keeps from the spotlight in connection with
+that case the more comfortable he's gonna be.</p>
+
+<p>"An' of course Mrs. Haley is now a fugitive from justice down in
+N'Yawlins.</p>
+
+<p>"You took her back to the private car. She had sobered up more than
+a little, but the strong stuff was still there inside of her. Her
+nerves was doin' a shimmy, an' you gave her plenty more to drink.
+Finally she went to sleep. When that happened you grabbed the jools
+an' hopped the car. Mrs. Haley didn't wake up until she was on her way
+to Jacksonville. It was a couple hours later that she found out the
+jools was gone—an' you too. The old gal nearly went nuts until she
+remembered her insurance, then she figured she was sittin' on Easy
+Street. An' it may interest you to know that the insurance money has
+already been paid to her; one hundred thousand dollars."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood sat motionless, staring admiringly at the portly detective.
+By no slightest physical sign did he give indication of his genuine
+enthusiasm for Hanvey's deductive powers, although he marveled at them
+with the frank appreciation of one brainy man for the accomplishments
+of another.</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey's story was correct to a detail. Sherwood knew the exhaustive
+search that the detective must have made, the painstaking probing.</p>
+
+<p>And now—"You're working for the insurance company aren't you, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh." Hanvey was very open about it. "We've already paid the money,
+but we're interested now in gettin' the jools back an' puttin' you in
+stir. That's why I come to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood smiled. "You're not going to arrest me, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because you can't prove a thing."</p>
+
+<p>Jim grinned. "Maybe not just yet. I've talked to Mrs. Haley. Bein' a
+social climber she ain't any too keen to let it be known publicly that
+she was imposed on by a faker. That'd make folks laugh at her. An'
+if, in addition to that, it was ever known that she was the woman who
+flattened the N'Yawlins cop at the end of a wild party it'd sort of
+queer her about as queer as could be. An' since she ain't sufferin'
+only a fifty-thousand-dollar loss anyway—she most certainly wouldn't
+identify you.</p>
+
+<p>"Y'see, Arthur, it's thisaway: I spotted you easy enough. You are known
+out at the inn. But nobody knew the dame who was with you. An' it was
+her that hit the cop. Also, I'm confessin' frankly that the maid an'
+the chef an' the butler ain't gonna identify you neither. Mrs. Haley
+has fixed them a-plenty. So she's in the clear, you've got the jools,
+an' we're stung. That makes us plumb angry, Arthur; bein' rode for a
+hundred thousand thataway. It just naturally puts it up to me to get
+you an' the jools both."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you enjoy yourself trying, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"I been havin' a good enough time a'ready. But I ain't particularly
+keen about the job. You're too good a crook to be in jail. But, by
+gosh, Arthur, you never should of fooled with no woman!"</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood was unimpressed. "You can't find the jewels, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon I can. Reckon I can land you too."</p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because a crook can't get away with it if the tecs are really after
+him. You've slipped somewhere. It's just up to me to find out where."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm surprised at you—thinking I've slipped."</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't no different from other crooks, Arthur, except you've got
+more sense."</p>
+
+<p>"Well"—Arthur rose ostentatiously—"I reckon you want to trot me down
+to headquarters."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Certainly not. Ain't no use of my arresting you unless you're
+going to plead guilty."</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes you're a real humorist, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't I? I'm awful cute occasionally. What I really come up for,
+Arthur, was to tell you how much I know. I want you to see just where
+you stand. I figured you'd be willin' to help me all you could."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, Jim, certainly. Just drop around any old time and talk
+things over. I'll do all in my power to hinder you."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, Arthur. I counted on you for that."</p>
+
+<p>They shook hands; slender, immaculate, polished man-about-town and the
+mammoth expressionless detective. The contrast was striking. Sherwood
+ushered Hanvey to the door and bade him a cordial farewell. Then alone,
+the criminal dropped into a chair and mopped his forehead with a silken
+handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey had startled him—just as Hanvey had intended. With uncanny
+intuition Hanvey had pieced together a story so nearly approximating
+the facts that Sherwood was amazed. And he was now very much on guard.
+The one hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of jewelry nestled
+in a safety-deposit box at one of the Manhattan banks. It was a box
+Sherwood had possessed for several years, holding it against just such
+an opportunity as this. It was rented under an assumed name.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after the jewel robbery he had boarded a train for New
+York, but not before he carefully had unset the gems and pitched the
+elaborate platinum settings into the depths of Lake Pontchartrain. The
+jewels in their little chamois sack were safe.</p>
+
+<p>From the outset Sherwood had realized that he would have difficulty in
+disposing of the gems. He was content. A stake of that size was worth
+waiting for—two years, three, five. But he had not anticipated that
+suspicion would so readily attach to himself. Now that Jim knew the
+story, he felt that he must redouble his precautions.</p>
+
+<p>The Mrs. Haley end of the situation was safe. He smiled at
+recollection of the pitifully gullible wife of the railroad president;
+the blatant, rather vulgar woman who thought to get into the most
+exclusive social circles by a display of jewelry. She had been so
+eagerly responsive to his glib chattering about prominent New Yorkers,
+had so warmly welcomed his casual invitation to telephone when next she
+came to New York in order that his supposed parents should have the
+opportunity of entertaining her.</p>
+
+<p>He had understood fully the value of social position to Mrs. Haley.
+For years she had struggled gamely, mounting with horrid slowness.
+She was jealous of her trifling successes. This story, made public in
+the newspapers and expanded in the dirt-slinging weeklies, would ruin
+her forever. Safety was possible to her in only one way—she must not
+identify the man who had been her guest on the private car. And Hanvey
+had reassured him on that point. That had been the single doubtful link
+in his safety chain; and he knew now that it was one of the strongest.</p>
+
+<p>He'd have to watch Jim Hanvey for a while. It would be an interesting
+game, laughing in his sleeve as Hanvey banged his fat head against an
+endless succession of brick walls. Eventually Jim would tire of the
+search, and then he would dispose of the jewels one by one. Not in a
+group, of course—they were of such great value that the attention of
+the police would immediately be attracted through the kind efforts
+of stool pigeons—but singly, at distant points, and with utmost
+discretion. The more Sherwood contemplated the plan the more assured
+he became. He felt sorry for Jim Hanvey. "Nice fellow too. I hate to
+see him fall down on the case."</p>
+
+<p>As for the detective, he apparently did not share Sherwood's fear for
+his non-success. If he had a worry he concealed it exceedingly well
+behind the pudgy face. Too, he fell into the habit of calling casually
+on Sherwood at odd hours, and discussing the case.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Jim. How's old Sherlock Holmes getting on?"</p>
+
+<p>"So-so, Arthur; just so-so."</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't gathered any definite information, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know durn well I haven't, Arthur."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better get them to shift you to something else. You'll never get
+the dope on me."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe not. An' maybe so. There ain't no tellin'."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood leaned forward and rested a friendly hand on Jim Hanvey's
+knee. "On the level, Jim, you're wasting your time. You know me; you
+know I'm not a fool."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, I know that."</p>
+
+<p>"And you know that I've taken every possible precaution. I was careful
+enough before; I'm doubly careful now. With you on the case, Jim, I
+wouldn't take a chance for anything in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"You're terrible complimentary."</p>
+
+<p>"I know you, Jim. You ain't half the fool you look. You couldn't be.
+Now, frankly, I don't expect to cash in on this little deal for four or
+five years, and——"</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't ever going to cash in on it, Arthur."</p>
+
+<p>The narrow, rather ascetic face of the criminal broke into a broad
+grin. "Trying to make me apprehensive?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; just talkin' sense. You know the gang I'm working for. It ain't so
+much the hundred thou' insurance money they've shelled out as it is the
+principle of the thing. They're just butt-headed enough to be willin'
+to spend money an' time to get you."</p>
+
+<p>"It's impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin's impossible. No matter how clever you are, you've slipped
+somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't slipped."</p>
+
+<p>"You think you haven't. An' as for you cashing in, you never will.
+You're playing a lone hand, Arthur, but I ain't. Real detectives never
+do. I've got the police of the country helpin' me on this thing, an'
+every stool pigeon we've got is watching for them jools. They're going
+to keep on watching. An'"—Jim Hanvey leaned forward earnestly—"you
+ain't gonna cash in on this deal, Arthur, because there ain't a livin'
+human bein' who'd buy them jools offen you. Not a single living soul."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood laughed shortly. He was impressed, and tried not to show it.</p>
+
+<p>"We know every fence who'd handle a deal of that size, Arthur. Every
+one of them. An' they're all bein' watched. The little jools don't
+matter, but the minute one of them big ones shows up—we're on a hot
+trail. An' then Mr. Sherwood does a stretch—worse luck."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll wait."</p>
+
+<p>"So will we. Waitin' is the best thing we do. We're just naturally
+bound to get you. I'd be doubtful if there was any person in the world
+you could sell them jools to, but there ain't. Not a one. We've taken
+care of that. An' the comp'ny has told me the sky's the limit. Besides,
+Arthur, there ain't so bloomin' many places you could of hid them
+jools. All the time you're waitin' we're workin'. You can't get away
+with it. The minute I was sure it was you I knew it was just a question
+of time before I landed you with the dope. Now if you was willin' to
+make a clean breast of it——"</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood threw back his head and laughed. "Jim Hanvey! I thought better
+of you than that."</p>
+
+<p>"A'right." The detective hoisted himself from the depths of a leather
+rocker. "Have it your own way, Arthur. But I sure do wish it was some
+other feller than you. I'm awful strong for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it, Jim." There was genuine feeling in the other's voice. "It's
+just a little game; you're on one side and I'm on the other. One of us
+has got to lose—and I'm plumb sorry it's you."</p>
+
+<p>Alone again Sherwood walked to the window, where he stood looking down
+into Central Park. Dusk was merging gently into night. The shadowy
+walks under the trees were dislimning in the softly gathering gloom.
+There floated up to his ears the commanding screech of automobile
+sirens, the clang of passing Eighth Avenue cars, the voices of a group
+of children. Then into the picture bulked the slouching figure of Jim
+Hanvey.</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood watched the ungainly hulk interestedly. He saw Hanvey enter
+the park and pause to light a cigar. There was something almost
+pathetic about the big hulking man, a humbleness that was deceptive to
+those who did not know him intimately. Too, there was a fairness and
+squareness which made him popular with the higher class of criminals.
+They knew he was on the level. He took no unfair advantage of them. He
+played the game clean. "If I've got to be caught I'd rather Jim Hanvey
+made the pinch." That was the idea; they were proud of their friendship
+with Jim Hanvey. They played clean with him and he with them. He looked
+out for them after he arrested them; saw they were given a square deal;
+didn't forget them when they were doing time. A lonely man, Jim Hanvey;
+big and ugly and ungainly—and eagerly friendly. His best friends stood
+high in the criminal social register. Outside the underworld he had no
+intimates.</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood saw him walk on slowly, in the lumbering gait of a man too
+bulky for his feet. And gradually the big figure was lost in the gloom.
+He was there—then gone. Sherwood turned away from the window, "It's a
+dirty shame. He would have made a wonderful crook."</p>
+
+<p>He pondered over his recent conversation with the detective. Jim's
+utterances were worthy of serious reflection; Jim was not given to
+trickery of speech. Besides he knew Sherwood too well to bluff. He
+understood that Sherwood would play a waiting game.</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood was willing, but a trifle disturbed. He hadn't anticipated
+having the robbery traced to his door so promptly. There had been no
+opportunity to dispose of even a few of the gems. And he wasn't too
+well supplied with cash. Of course with Jim watching every move it
+would be impossible to pull another job; he'd have to lay low and take
+things easy. Worse luck.</p>
+
+<p>Jim was right of course. At present there was no one to whom he could
+sell the jewels. No professional fence would handle them, and if an
+amateur took over the jewels he, Sherwood, would be lucky to get ten
+thousand dollars. "And I'll never let them go for that; not if I have
+to wait ten years."</p>
+
+<p>He visited Jim Hanvey a couple of days later. "I've been thinking over
+our little talk, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"That's good."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I handed the jewels to you, would you forget that you knew who
+took them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wish I could, Arthur, but it isn't possible. We want you."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood shrugged. "I'll just have to wait then."</p>
+
+<p>"That's foolish. I'll get you sooner or later. You might as well come
+clean and start serving your time now. Every day you put it off is just
+that much time wasted."</p>
+
+<p>"I've got plenty of time, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh, reckon so. I hardly thought you'd 'fess up."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm real sorry for you, Arthur. All that trouble, all that risk—and
+you ain't gonna get nothin' out of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll make out very well."</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. You can't sell 'em, an' there ain't no other way of realizin' on
+your investment of time and effort."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood knew that he must hold on for a long, long while. It was
+awkward, but necessary. He was too clever a performer to worry about
+financial stringency. Jim was after him now as keenly as he was after
+the jewels, even more so. Of course he had never intended turning
+the jewels over to Hanvey; had quizzed him solely for the purpose of
+finding out whether it was the man or the jewels they were seeking. The
+fact that it was the former made greater caution imperative.</p>
+
+<p>Jim was using the police too. That was further embarrassment. The
+police system bothers criminals, it is so extensive and comprehensive,
+a system of surveillance that eventually wears a man down. Playing
+lone hands, Sherwood knew that the advantage would always be with
+the criminal. But fighting against the individual brilliance of a
+detective and the inexorable patience and scope of the nation's police
+departments, a man had to watch his step pretty carefully.</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood was willing—but it was deucedly uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Jim had impressed him. There was no one to whom he could sell the
+jewels; not for several years, at any rate, not a soul. Unless,
+perhaps——Sherwood nodded slowly. "It's worth thinking over," he told
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>Two days later Sherwood's telephone buzzed, and Jim Hanvey's monotonous
+droning voice came to him over the wire:</p>
+
+<p>"That you, Arthur?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"This is Jim Hanvey."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Busy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not particularly."</p>
+
+<p>"How 'bout droppin' over to my rooms a minute. I got somethin' to show
+you; somethin' real interestin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Right away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pronto."</p>
+
+<p>A taxi, a swift journey uptown to West 110th Street; Jim Hanvey's
+three-room apartment—a stuffy affair grotesquely furnished and vilely
+kept; three rooms which sagged under the heavy odor of Jim's cigars.</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood swore fervently and threw up the windows in the tiny parlor.</p>
+
+<p>"Jim, you shouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Smoke those cigars indoors."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Them? Gosh! I like 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"The other tenants don't kick?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dunno. The janitor done time once in Joliet, an' him an' me is
+buddies. He was a awful rotten yegg, but he's a swell janitor. That
+just shows——Anyway, you ain't interested in him; n'r me neither for
+that matter. I got somethin' to show you."</p>
+
+<p>"So you said."</p>
+
+<p>"C'mere."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood trailed his host into the dining room. Jim motioned him to a
+chair. "Just got one thing to ask, Arthur; that is that you use your
+eyes—not your hands."</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever you say, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Good." From the capacious hip pocket of his voluminous trousers Hanvey
+extracted a little chamois sack. Sherwood's eyes narrowed slightly.
+Chamois sack! Jewelry! Hanvey, apparently unmindful of his visitor,
+droned on:</p>
+
+<p>"Just you watch, Arthur—but remember, hands off."</p>
+
+<p>With a quick deft motion he opened the sack and spilled its contents on
+the imitation-mahogany table. The fishlike eyes of the detective were
+focused vacantly upon Arthur Sherwood, who had started involuntarily
+from his seat. Then Sherwood caught himself, controlled his nerves with
+an effort and tried to smile.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the idea, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey's glassy eyes were turned to the table top, upon which glowed
+and flamed a handful of magnificent gems—matched pearls, diamonds of
+rare cut and brilliance, a huge blood ruby, twin emeralds of enormous
+size and clarity, deep Oriental sapphires. The eyes of the detective
+closed slowly, sleepily, then opened with maddening leisureliness.</p>
+
+<p>"How you like 'em, Arthur?"</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood appeared at ease, but his nerves were under a terrific
+tension. "Very much."</p>
+
+<p>"Look familiar?"</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood nodded frankly. "Yes."</p>
+
+<p>They were familiar; stone for stone they were the jewels he had stolen
+from Mrs. Haley—stolen from her, stripped from their mountings, and
+which at that moment he could have sworn were safe in a box at one of
+the city's largest banks. There was no mistaking them—the ruby, the
+big diamond with the odd workmanship.</p>
+
+<p>"What are they, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey grinned genially.</p>
+
+<p>"Paste."</p>
+
+<p>"Paste?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. Can't you tell?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you get them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Had 'em made from the descriptions the insurance company has. I think
+they look grand—for paste."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood stared at the glittering gems as though hypnotized. And while
+he gazed Hanvey's huge hand went out and swept them back into the
+chamois sack. "Awful good imitations, I think, Arthur."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood laughed weakly. "They are. Mighty clever."</p>
+
+<p>The sack was returned to Hanvey's pocket. "I got to be trottin' along
+downtown, Arthur. That's all I wanted of you—just to show you them
+imitation jools."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood was nervous. He more than half expected to be arrested, and he
+drew a deep breath of relief as he stepped into the street. He walked
+swiftly toward the corner, turned sharply, and saw Hanvey emerge from
+the apartment house and follow him. A slight frown corrugated the
+criminal's forehead.</p>
+
+<p>He was frankly worried. Hanvey was too insistent about the brummagem
+quality of the gems. Doubt assailed him. Perhaps they were the
+genuine stones. It was impossible—but if they were imitations they
+were wonderful. Suppose Hanvey had discovered the location of his
+safety-deposit box and the name in which it was held? Suppose he had
+actually secured the gems?</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood hailed a passing taxi and entered. As he did so he saw another
+cab ease around the corner. Jim Hanvey overflowed the back seat, cigar
+between his pursy lips. Sherwood spoke swiftly to his driver. "See that
+cab yonder?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh."</p>
+
+<p>"Lose it and you get twenty dollars."</p>
+
+<p>"Cinch."</p>
+
+<p>At the same moment Hanvey was speaking with his own driver. "See that
+cab up ahead—the one the good-lookin' feller is just gettin' into?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-huh."</p>
+
+<p>"Foller it an' you get five dollars."</p>
+
+<p>"Cinch."</p>
+
+<p>The chase started. Both cabs swung into Riverside Drive at moderate
+speed, Sherwood's driver playing a careful game until such time as he
+might find an opportunity to elude pursuit in a traffic jam. Along
+Riverside they went, turning eastward to Broadway on Seventy-second
+Street, thence down that thoroughfare to Park Circle. It was there that
+luck played into Sherwood's hands. His cab crossed Park Circle just
+as the traffic policeman raised his hand. It took Hanvey fully a half
+minute to exhibit his credentials to the policeman, and by that time
+Sherwood had sped eastward on Fifty-eighth Street, turning downtown on
+Sixth Avenue and doubling back uptown via Fiftieth Street and Ninth
+Avenue.</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood was confident that he had eluded Hanvey, but he was taking no
+chance. As a matter of fact, additional precaution was unnecessary.
+Hanvey's taxi reached Fifty-eighth, Jim glanced down the avenue through
+an endless line of cabs, touring cars and busses, and motioned his
+driver to a halt. "Needn't go no farther, son. They've got away. How
+much?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dollar eighty."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey handed him a two-dollar bill. "Keep the change." Then, as he
+started across toward the Subway kiosk, he glanced at his watch.
+"Three-thirty—hmph!"</p>
+
+<p>He entered the Subway and rode uptown. When he alighted it was to walk
+to Central Park West and seat himself on the steps of Sherwood's
+apartment house. He was smiling slightly and there appeared to be a
+faint sign of life in his dead fishy eyes. Sherwood had proceeded with
+meticulous care. He left his taxi on West Sixty-fourth Street, took
+a surface car to the Pennsylvania Hotel, entered the Subway via the
+lobby of that hostelry, rode downtown and thence to his bank, where
+he secured access to the safety-deposit box held by himself under the
+alias of Roger Clarkson.</p>
+
+<p>His examination took but a moment. The jewels were there, every last
+one of them. He sighed relievedly. Then as he left the bank he found
+himself worrying. He realized that Jim Hanvey had some deeply ulterior
+motive, that he had not gone to the trouble and expense of securing
+the paste duplicates without making them a part of an elaborate trap.
+Hanvey's very frankness had been disquieting. Paste, said Hanvey, made
+from the insurance-company descriptions. Well, Hanvey had told the
+truth. But why? Sherwood was apprehensive. Here had entered the first
+element the criminal was unable to understand. Until this moment he
+had felt a bit sorry for Jim Hanvey's heavy blundering, his bovine
+indifference and his lethargy. But now——</p>
+
+<p>Still seeking a solution Sherwood rode uptown on the Elevated and then
+walked to his apartment. As he turned in at the door the monster figure
+of Jim Hanvey hoisted itself from the marble steps.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Arthur."</p>
+
+<p>"Jim! You here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Naw! I'm over in Brooklyn huntin' for the other end of the bridge."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood took his friend by the arm. "Come upstairs a minute, Jim. I
+want to chat with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey selected the most comfortable chair and crashed into it.
+Sherwood walked to the window, put up the shade and turned toward the
+Gargantuan figure of his friend. Sherwood's face was in shadow, that of
+the detective in the full glare of daylight—as expressionful as putty.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been trying to figure out your little play, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And I don't get the answer. About the only idea I can see behind
+it was that you showed me those imitations to make me go down to the
+vault where I have the real stones to reassure myself."</p>
+
+<p>"You're hittin' on all six so far, Arthur."</p>
+
+<p>"And that you'd trail me there and find out what box——"</p>
+
+<p>"Arthur Sherwood! I'm plumb disappointed in you—knockin' me thataway.
+You don't honestly think I thought I could trail you through the
+streets of New York, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It didn't seem so, Jim—unless you were attaining your second
+childhood. But I couldn't figure out any other reason—and you did try
+to follow me."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey shook his head slowly. "Nope."</p>
+
+<p>"In that taxi?"</p>
+
+<p>"That wasn't my idea, Arthur." The detective's big spatulate fingers
+drummed lightly on the table. "All I was doin', Arthur, was to make
+sure that you was tryin' to shake me!"</p>
+
+<p>"A-ah!" Sherwood's thin lips compressed. Hanvey waved genially. "Think
+it over."</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood thought it over. Then: "Well, I was trying to shake you. Where
+does that get you?"</p>
+
+<p>"A heap of places, Arthur. 'Cause how? 'Cause the minute you tried to
+shake me I knew good an' well you was doin' it because you was headed
+for the vault where you had the jools hid. Of course it is a vault—no
+crook of your intelligence would hide 'em anywheres else. So the minute
+you gave me the slip I come on back here an' waited for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-e-es." Sherwood was puzzled. "But why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because, Arthur, I laid an awful clever trap for you, an' you fell
+into it. You don't mind my callin' myself clever, do you, Arthur? I
+really do think it was an awful good stunt I pulled."</p>
+
+<p>"Just what was it, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey glanced at his enormous watch. "Just this: At some time between
+3:45 and 4:30 this afternoon you went to your bank box. You signed your
+card—under an alias, of course. An' to-morrow mornin' I start out
+inspectin' the vault cards of every bank in New York. I'll get help
+from headquarters, an' eventually we'll check up on every man, woman
+an' child who entered a bank box in that three-quarters of an hour."</p>
+
+<p>The detective grinned in boyish approval of his own acumen. "'Tain't
+gonna be such an easy job, Arthur, but it ain't gonna be so hard
+neither—me not carin' particularly about time in this case. Of course
+I know the box is in a Manhattan bank, because you got back too quick
+to have gone to Brooklyn or even Jersey City. Jerry Naschbaum, chief
+of the headquarters identification force, will let me have a few good
+men to help. In one week, two weeks mebbe three, we'll check up on
+everybody who entered a bank box between 3:45 and 4:30 to-day. An' when
+we've done that, Arthur, we'll have you. See?"</p>
+
+<p>Arthur saw. "I wish some one else was on this case, Jim. You're too
+blamed painstaking."</p>
+
+<p>"Better 'fess up now."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I'll take my chances."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't gonna get you nowhere. You can't sell them jools; there ain't a
+soul in the world would buy 'em offen you."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe not." Sherwood opened the door invitingly. "Sorry you have to be
+going, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry myself, Arthur." He turned at the doorway. "I'm kinder cute
+yet, ain't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not, Jim," was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>It did not take Sherwood long to realize that he was nearing the end of
+his rope. He might have known that Jim Hanvey was going to trap him.
+That had been a clever trick of Jim's, and it promised definite and
+fairly immediate results. Hanvey was right; the task of checking up
+would be a slow and difficult undertaking, but Sherwood knew the police
+system sufficiently well to understand—and fear—its tirelessness.
+Eventually they'd complete their check-up, and when they did——</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood admitted to himself that he must dispose of the jewels.
+Thought of transferring them to another box was out of the question.
+They'd discover that eventually. The thing to do was to rid himself
+of the gems. But Jim Hanvey had insisted that he could not sell them
+because there was no market. Jim had spoken truly. No market. "Oh,
+confound Mrs. Haley and her jewelry!"</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood caught his breath suddenly. Mrs. Haley! Puffy, ponderous Mrs.
+Haley! The poor, bewildered, self-sufficient Mrs. Haley, who had lost
+one hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of jewelry and been
+partially reimbursed with one hundred thousand dollars of the insurance
+company's money. Sherwood smashed his right fist into the palm of his
+left hand.</p>
+
+<p>"There's my market! I'll sell the jewels back to Mrs. Haley!"</p>
+
+<p>He paced the room, his brain running riot with the sardonic daring of
+his scheme. He knew Jim Hanvey was not infallible. Jim had been so
+confident that no one would buy the jewels—so confident that he had
+completely overlooked Mrs. Haley.</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. Haley would buy. He'd make her buy. No one would think of
+looking to her for the gems. She could have them set in new mountings
+and no one would ever be the wiser. He'd sell them to her for fifty
+thousand dollars, and she'd be fifty thousand dollars winner on the
+transaction. Then Jim Hanvey could search all he pleased.</p>
+
+<p>He telephoned Mrs. Haley. She was decidedly disinclined to meet him. He
+assumed a threatening tone. She consented fearfully. They met at Port
+Chester, he going there by train and she by automobile. She refused
+frankly to have anything further to do with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Mrs. Haley. When they arrest me I'll tell the whole story.
+What happened in New Orleans for one thing; then about your refusal
+to identify me—I know they've shown you my picture. It will be a
+choice morsel for the newspapers, and a wonderful story for the society
+weeklies. You'll be laughed out of the country."</p>
+
+<p>"But if they find out that I've bought them back from you——" The
+woman was on the verge of hysteria. She was horribly frightened.</p>
+
+<p>"They won't. You're the last person on earth they'd think of in
+connection with those jewels. You buy them. They can search all they
+please and they can't get the goods on me. They won't even arrest me
+because there'll be no evidence to convict. And you will be fifty
+thousand dollars to the good."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't."</p>
+
+<p>"You can."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I won't."</p>
+
+<p>A steely light crept into his eyes. "You will! You must!"</p>
+
+<p>Eventually she consented. There was nothing else she could do.
+Petrified with terror, fearful of losing the tiny bit of social
+recognition for which she had so valiantly struggled, inordinately
+afraid of arrest in connection with the New Orleans escapade which had
+assumed Brobdingnagian proportions in her eyes—she agreed to meet him
+in the private dining room of a quiet hotel, bringing with her fifty
+thousand dollars in cash, which was to be exchanged for the jewels. And
+then, apprehensive and nervous, she left him.</p>
+
+<p>Sherwood returned to the city, exultant. His plan had worked. It was
+safe, supremely safe. For, even should she be eventually discovered in
+possession of the jewels, she would never dare tell the true story.</p>
+
+<p>But Jim Hanvey had not been idle. He made careful investigation and
+then spent the entire afternoon chatting with the presidents of the
+four New York banks where Mrs. Haley maintained personal checking
+accounts. "She'll cash a big check here in the next few days,"
+explained the detective to each of them. "A thunderin' big check; an'
+she'll take the money in legal tender. Minute she does, telephone my
+apartment. Ask for a feller named Henry Jones. He'll take the message
+an' get in touch with me."</p>
+
+<p>And then Jim Hanvey personally took unto himself the task of watching
+Mrs. Haley.</p>
+
+<p>It was not difficult. Suspecting no surveillance Mrs. Haley conducted
+herself so that a blind man could have shadowed her. Mrs. Haley's
+single major sorrow in life was the stubborn refusal of her husband to
+take up his residence in New York. Her apartment was a sop, and during
+her occasional sojourns in the metropolis she expended a vast amount of
+effort in the task of letting people know that she was somebody. Purple
+limousine, uniformed chauffeur and footman, shrieking clothes and
+diamond-studded lorgnette combined to make Hanvey's self-appointed task
+absurdly simple. And on the morning of the third day following, the man
+called Jones notified his superior that only a few hours previously
+Mrs. Haley had personally cashed her check for fifty thousand dollars.</p>
+
+<p>Jim received the report with a nod. He was lolling comfortably in a
+taxicab owned by the police department and driven by one of his own
+operatives. "Yeh! I knew somethin' was about to break. I follered
+her down to the bank an' seen her when she went in. She's in yonder
+now"—he nodded in the general direction of the gingerbready apartment
+house—"an' she'll be comin' out directly. Beat it, Henry."</p>
+
+<p>Henry beat it. The purple limousine appeared. So, too, did Mrs. Haley.
+Twenty minutes later she entered a modest downtown hotel. Hanvey
+waited until she had crossed the lobby in the wake of a bellhop and
+disappeared into an elevator. Then he followed and exhibited his
+credentials to the manager, receiving from that startled dignitary a
+bit of helpful information.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a man in that private dining room already, isn't there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Good. I'll trot along up."</p>
+
+<p>He allowed them ample time for conversation. And when he opened the
+door with a master key furnished by the hotel management it was to
+interrupt an interesting tableau.</p>
+
+<p>By the table stood Mrs. Haley, clutching in her two hands the sack of
+jewels. Sherwood was busily engaged in counting the money she had paid
+over to him. Neither moved.</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey closed the door gently. His wide-open, fishlike eyes blinked
+with amazing slowness. Mrs. Haley choked, spluttered and collapsed
+into a chair. Sherwood's eyes met Hanvey's levelly. The criminal was
+apparently emotionless, a game loser. Very quietly he took the sack of
+jewels from the nerveless hands of Mrs. Haley, returned her money and
+extended the jewels to Hanvey.</p>
+
+<p>"There has been no transaction here of the kind you think, Jim. I
+am handing over the jewels of my own accord, and confessing to the
+robbery. There is no need to drag this lady's name in the mud."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey bowed with ungainly grace. "Always a gent, eh, Arthur? I'm proud
+of you." He turned to Mrs. Haley. "I reckon it wasn't ever your fault,
+ma'am. An' me an' my friend Mr. Sherwood here will see that you don't
+get no rotten publicity out of it."</p>
+
+<p>She was dazed, but volubly and tearfully grateful. Sherwood, calm and
+dignified, questioned the detective.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got me, Jim. I had a hunch that I wouldn't get away with it.
+But I have a professional and academic interest in the matter. There
+are one or two things I don't quite understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Always at your service, Arthur."</p>
+
+<p>"First and most important"—Sherwood's voice was quietly
+conversational—"what made you think I planned to sell the jewels back
+to Mrs. Haley?"</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey shook his head reprovingly; "I'm s'prised at you for not knowin'
+such a simple thing as that, Arthur. The reason I knew you was gonna
+sell them jools back to Mrs. Haley was because I suggested it to you."</p>
+
+<p>"You suggested——" Then Sherwood smiled in frank admiration. "You mean
+you suggested it when you said——"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," interrupted Hanvey pleasantly, "when I kept repeatin' that
+there wasn't nobody in the world you could sell 'em to—I meant nobody
+except Mrs. Haley."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="COMMON_STOCK">COMMON STOCK</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Gerald Corwin emerged from the elevator, glanced apprehensively about
+the ornate lobby of the hotel and walked swiftly toward the dining
+room. But as he handed hat and cane to the checker a huge, ungainly
+figure bulked before him and a mild, pleasant voice brought misery
+where a moment before there had been contentment.</p>
+
+<p>"Gonna eat now, Corwin?"</p>
+
+<p>Gerald sighed resignedly. Too thoroughly a gentleman to display
+consciously his frank distaste, he was yet too poor a dissembler wholly
+to conceal it. He merely nodded and strode disgustedly in the wake of
+the obsequious head waiter, with Jim Hanvey waddling cumbersomely in
+the rear.</p>
+
+<p>Corwin was disgusted with the whole affair, and particularly that phase
+of it which placed him under the chaperonage of the ponderous and
+uncouth detective. Not that Jim had been obtrusive, but the man was
+innately crude, and Corwin despised crudeness.</p>
+
+<p>One could readily understand his antipathy. The two men were as
+dissimilar as an orchid and a turnip. Corwin, about thirty years
+of age, was tall and slender and immaculate, shrieking the word
+"aristocrat" in every cultured gesture. He was unmistakably a
+gentleman, a person to whom æsthetics was all-important, and he could
+not fail to consider Jim Hanvey thoroughly obnoxious.</p>
+
+<p>Jim was all right in his way, perhaps, but never before had Corwin been
+forced into intimate association with a professional detective. He was
+resentful, not of the fact that Jim Hanvey was a detective, but because
+the man was hopelessly uncouth. Jim was an enormous individual and
+conspicuously unwieldy. He wore cheap, ready-made clothes that no more
+than approximately fitted his rotund figure. He smoked vile cigars and
+wore shoes which rose to little peaks at the toes. But Corwin felt he
+could have stood all that were it not for Jim's gold toothpick.</p>
+
+<p>That golden toothpick, suspended as a charm from a hawserlike
+chain extending across Jim's vest, had fascinated Corwin from the
+commencement of their journey to Los Angeles. It was a fearsome,
+flagrant instrument, and Jim Hanvey loved it. It had been presented
+to him years before by a criminal of international fame as a token of
+sincere regard. Otherwise unemployed, Jim was in the habit of sitting
+by the hour with his fat fingers toying with the toothpick. Gerald had
+once hinted that the weapon might better be concealed. His insinuation
+resulted merely in debate.</p>
+
+<p>"Stick it away? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"A toothpick——"</p>
+
+<p>"Say, listen, Mr. Corwin; have you ever seen a handsomer toothpick?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but——"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I haven't either. That's why I'm proud to have folks see it.
+It's absolutely the swellest toothpick in captivity."</p>
+
+<p>No arguing against that, but from the first hour of the
+acquaintanceship Corwin reviled the fates which decreed that for two
+weeks he should be under Hanvey's eye.</p>
+
+<p>The thing was absurd of course. Corwin, fearless and no mean athlete,
+was well able to take care of himself and fulfill the delicate mission
+with which he had been intrusted—a mere matter of securing a proxy
+from Col. Robert E. Warrington and returning with it to New York in
+time for the annual meeting of the stockholders. He was not a simpleton
+and there was no doubting his integrity. Why, then, this grotesque and
+goggle-eyed sleuth?</p>
+
+<p>Matter of fact, Jim had appeared wholly disinterested since their
+departure from New York. All the way across country he had slouched in
+their drawing-room, staring through the window with his great, fishy
+eyes. Those eyes annoyed Corwin. They seemed incapable of vision. They
+were inhuman, stupid, glassy eyes which reflected no intelligence.
+Corwin fancied himself the victim of a stupendous hoax; it was
+unbelievable that this man could rightfully possess a reputation to
+justify the present assignment.</p>
+
+<p>The meal was torture to the fastidious younger man. There was no
+denying that Jim enjoyed his dinner, but the enjoyment was too obvious.
+Jim caught the disapproving glance of his companion and interpreted it
+rightly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Sall right, Mr. Corwin. Eatin' ain't no art with me. It's a pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>Corwin flushed. Suddenly he discovered that Jim was not listening.
+Hanvey had turned slightly and was gazing into a mirror which reflected
+a section of the huge dining room. Corwin followed the direction of his
+gaze and saw that the object of his scrutiny was a man of medium size
+but muscular figure who was searching for a table.</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey was interested, and as an indication of that interest he blinked
+in his interminably deliberate manner, lids closing heavily over the
+fishy eyes, remaining shut for a second, then uncurtaining even more
+slowly. And finally, when the newcomer had seated himself, Jim nodded
+toward him and addressed Corwin.</p>
+
+<p>"Yonder's the answer," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Corwin shook his head in puzzlement.</p>
+
+<p>"To what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't quite understand."</p>
+
+<p>"See that feller who just come in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"It's him."</p>
+
+<p>Corwin inspected the newcomer with fresh interest. The man was of a
+type, one of those optimistic individuals who futilely struggle to
+acquire gentility and who fondly believe they have succeeded. In every
+studied move of the man one could discern mental effort. Even the
+hypercorrect raiment was subtly suggestive of a disguise. There was
+nothing flagrantly wrong with the man, just as there was nothing quite
+as it should be. Corwin, himself not an overly keen student of human
+nature, could yet fancy the stranger's manner of speech—careful,
+precise, stilted, rather malapropian, with here and there a moment of
+forgetfulness, with its reversion to downright bad grammar. He turned
+back to Hanvey.</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Billy Scanlan, alias Gentleman William, alias Flash Billy, alias Roger
+van Dorn, alias, a half dozen other things. He's done time in Joliet
+and Sing Sing. He's a good friend of mine." The faintest suggestion of
+a smile played about the corners of Jim's mouth. "An' he's why your
+crowd hired me to trail you out here."</p>
+
+<p>It was quite plain to Hanvey, but Corwin was puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't yet understand."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't? Gosh, son, there couldn't anything be any plainer! We ain't
+never discussed what brought you out here, but I know all about it just
+the same; an' since you prob'ly won't answer no questions, I'll tell
+you what I know. The Quincy-Scott gang started a drive recently to grab
+off the control of the K. R. &amp; P. Railroad from McIntosh and his crowd.
+Before McIntosh woke up, the Quincy bunch had corralled every loose
+vote, enough to give them a control in the forthcomin' stockholders'
+meetin'. When McIntosh got wise he knew that his only hope was Colonel
+Warrington out here in Los Angeles, the colonel ownin' about ninety
+thousand shares of common stock. So he telephoned the old bird and
+found out that he wasn't interested in the fight one way or the other;
+that he'd already been approached by the Quincy-Scott combination an'
+had turned 'em down cold an' final, which seemed to indicate that
+with a little proper persuasion he'd be willin' to deliver a proxy to
+McIntosh. It bein' 'most time for the meetin', an' things bein' pretty
+desperate, they sent you out to get the proxy from the ol' gent, his
+proxy gettin' there meanin' victory for McIntosh, an' its failure
+leavin' the vote control with Quincy an' Scott. Ain't it so?"</p>
+
+<p>Corwin was staring at Hanvey in amazement. The pudgy detective had
+been speaking disinterestedly, casually, but he had the most intimate
+facts at his finger-tips. Corwin nodded before he thought, then bit his
+tongue.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not at liberty to say whether or not you're correct, Mr. Hanvey."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure you ain't. You're dead right, son. Don't you never spill no beans
+to nobody no time. I wasn't tryin' to pump you. I got the dope straight
+from headquarters. I was just tellin' you so you'd understand that I
+know why I was sent out with you, an' so you'd understand too."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey paused, and as though that ended the matter he extracted from an
+elaborately engraved and sadly tarnished silver-plated cigar case two
+huge black invincibles, one of which he reluctantly extended to his
+companion. Corwin declined, and Jim sighed relievedly as he tenderly
+returned the cigar to its place. He lighted the other, inhaled with
+gusto and blew a cloud of the smoke into the air.</p>
+
+<p>"I still don't understand, Mr. Hanvey."</p>
+
+<p>Jim jerked his head toward Scanlan. "Billy's been sent out by the
+Quincy gang. His job is to keep that proxy from getting to New York in
+time for the stockholders' meeting."</p>
+
+<p>"O-o-oh!"</p>
+
+<p>Corwin's jaw hardened, his sinewy frame tensed and a fighting light
+blazed in his fine, level eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Jim grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"They ain't gonna try no rough stuff. That ain't Bill Scanlan's way of
+workin'. He's one of the smoothest con men in the known world, but he
+ain't rough—not Billy. He's smooth as butter."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how——"</p>
+
+<p>"Easy enough, son. He'll be on the same train that carries us back
+east, an' before we get to Chicago he'll swipe that proxy. At least
+that's what he's figurin' he's goin' to do."</p>
+
+<p>Matters were clarifying slightly in the brain of young Corwin. But his
+curiosity was still unsatisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"If I may ask, Mr. Hanvey, how do you know that he is the Quincy-Scott
+agent?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim shrugged his fat shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Easy enough. Y'see, it's this way: When the good Lord manufactured
+me he forgot to hand me out any good looks an' he slipped me entirely
+too much figger. But he didn't find that out until too late, so what he
+did to make up for it was to give me a mem'ry. I've got a mem'ry like
+a cam'ra, son. I just naturally don't forget things, an' I've sort of
+built up the rep of knowin' more professional crooks than any other
+ten men put together. McIntosh knew that the other crowd would engage
+a professional crook to get the proxy away from you, it not bein' no
+job for an amachoor. He was sure to foller you out here, an' the way he
+was plannin' to work was to scrape an acquaintance with you, you never
+suspectin' nothin', which would have made things pretty easy for Billy.
+I just trailed along to sort of point out to you the feller you wasn't
+safe with, an' Billy Scanlan is him."</p>
+
+<p>Gerald Corwin felt a fresh respect for the fat man with the bovine
+expression, and a bit of his resentment vanished at the same time, for
+he now understood one or two things which before had left him wholly
+puzzled and more than a trifle resentful.</p>
+
+<p>They finished their meal in silence. The check paid, they rose and
+started from the dining room, but Hanvey took Corwin's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"C'mon over an' lemme introduce you to Billy. It'll sort of make things
+easier for him, bein' introduced formal-like, an' the poor feller's got
+a tough-enough job on his hands as it is."</p>
+
+<p>Startled but obedient, Corwin followed, and he saw the expression of
+incredulous amazement, not untinged with apprehension, which flashed
+into Scanlan's face as they paused by his table.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Billy!"</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan rose slowly. His jaw was set and it was plain that he was
+struggling to orient himself to this bizarre situation. He strove to
+make his tone casual.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Jim!"</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey was exceedingly gracious.</p>
+
+<p>"Lemme introduce my friend Mr. Corwin. Mr. Corwin is the feller you
+was sent out here to watch, Billy. Mr. Corwin, shake hands with Mr.
+Scanlan."</p>
+
+<p>Awkwardly the two men—one an innate gentleman and the other a student
+at the school of gentility—shook hands. Corwin was a trifle sorry for
+Scanlan. The man seemed afraid of Jim Hanvey.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm pleased to meet Mr. Corwin."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure you are." The voice of Hanvey chimed in genially. "Didn't you
+come all the way from New York just for that? An' wasn't you wonderin'
+how you was gonna work it? That's me—always ready to help out a
+friend, Billy—so I up an' introduces you fellers."</p>
+
+<p>"It's real kind of you, Jim"—Scanlan was choosing his words with
+scrupulous care—"but I don't quite—er—comprehend what you're driving
+at."</p>
+
+<p>"No?" Hanvey's bushy eyebrows arched in surprise. "I'd sure hate to
+think that you wasn't tellin' me the truth, Billy."</p>
+
+<p>"I really don't understand your—a—innuendoes. I'm in Los Angeles on
+a vacation and without no definite objective."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, Billy, sure! I know that. You're a gent of leisure, you are. But
+if you could grab off that fat wad the Quincy-Scott people hung under
+your nose, you wouldn't have no objections, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan's hand dropped on Hanvey's shoulder and he gazed earnestly into
+the eyes of the detective, Corwin for the moment forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>"Honest, Jim, I'm runnin' straight. I ain't plannin' a thing. So leave
+me be, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't aimin' to bother you none, Billy. Goodness knows, you're too
+much of a gent to be in jail. Only it just struck me that I was doin'
+you a favor by introducin' you to Mr. Corwin, him an' you both bein'
+genuine swells an' li'ble to have a heap in common."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly reawakened to consciousness of Corwin's presence, Scanlan
+pulled himself together.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hanvey is bound to have his little joke, Mr. Corwin. A very
+interesting chap, isn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>Corwin inclined his head gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Very."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey regarded them amusedly.</p>
+
+<p>"You fellers like each other?"</p>
+
+<p>They nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"That's fine! I'm sure glad!" He turned away, then swung back suddenly.
+"By the way, Billy, we're leaving on the California Limited Friday
+morning, ten o'clock. We've got Drawin'-room A in Car S-17. I'm
+tellin' you so you can get your reservations early on that train.
+Eastern travel is awful thick these days."</p>
+
+<p>They parted from the bewildered Scanlan. In the sanctuary of Hanvey's
+room Gerald Corwin voiced his displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>"You are probably a very great detective, Mr. Hanvey——"</p>
+
+<p>"Naw! Not me! I'm just a fat, lucky bum."</p>
+
+<p>"But it strikes me that you volunteered some valuable information
+unnecessarily."</p>
+
+<p>"To Billy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"How so?"</p>
+
+<p>"About our reservations east. Why did you tell him the correct day?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never lie to a crook," said Jim gravely. "It ain't fair. Besides, if
+they're good enough crooks to be worth lyin' to a feller ain't gonna
+get away with it. Billy will check up, an' once he found I'd lied to
+him he'd lose all confidence in me."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't see what difference it makes."</p>
+
+<p>"That's 'cause you're a business man, son. Detectives an' crooks know
+the value of tellin' the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't have to tell him who I was."</p>
+
+<p>"No-o, that's true. But it saved him a heap of trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand your desire to save him trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"It's this way, Mr. Corwin: The less trouble Billy has to take the more
+time he'll have for thinkin', an' the more he thinks the worse off
+he is. Thinkin', son, has ruined a heap of happy homes, an' don't you
+forget it."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey was right. At that moment Billy Scanlan was slumped in a chair
+in the hotel lobby, smoking cigarette after cigarette and wondering
+what it all meant. He knew Jim Hanvey of old, was familiar with
+the working methods of the ponderous, slow-moving, quick-thinking
+detective; and he knew that Jim had told the truth. Of course he'd
+check up, but that was a mere formality. All the more prominent
+criminals knew that Jim Hanvey did not lie. That was one explanation of
+the high esteem in which they held him—because he played fair.</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan was worried. He had been intrusted with a definite mission,
+one well suited to his peculiar talents. His job was to secure from
+Gerald Corwin the proxy which Corwin was to receive from Col. Robert
+E. Warrington and to deliver that proxy to the men who were fighting
+to wrest control of the K. R. &amp; P. from the McIntosh interests.
+That was all. The sky was the limit so far as he was concerned. His
+professional reputation was at stake. Besides, the reward offered by
+the Quincy-Scott crowd was stupendous, and Billy was sadly in need of
+ready cash—and plenty of it.</p>
+
+<p>The presence of Jim Hanvey complicated matters somewhat in the way of
+accomplishing a task already difficult and delicate. But Billy was
+game and not entirely averse to matching wits with the gargantuan
+detective. So he waited patiently in the lobby, watching the elevator
+bank, and eventually he was rewarded when Gerald Corwin descended,
+walked swiftly to the street and hailed a taxi.</p>
+
+<p>As he drove off, Scanlan stepped into another cab.</p>
+
+<p>"Follow that cab ahead. Keep about a block in the rear. When he stops
+you stop."</p>
+
+<p>As Scanlan drove off, he glanced over his shoulder in time to see the
+ungainly figure of Jim Hanvey climb laboriously into yet a third taxi.
+He did not quite fathom Jim's motive in following, but he didn't care
+particularly. He knew that Jim knew he'd trail Corwin. So much for that.</p>
+
+<p>Corwin's taxi driver, evidently aware that his fare was unfamiliar
+with the vastness of Los Angeles, selected a circuitous route to the
+Wilshire Boulevard address of Colonel Warrington. He drove through the
+traffic to Pico and via that important thoroughfare to Western Avenue,
+swinging across then to the fashionable Wilshire section, a tremendous
+area of spotlessly white homes, immaculate lawns, stiff and artificial
+gardening and aggressive affluence. Before the gates of a huge home,
+the grounds of which occupied an entire block, Corwin's taxi stopped.
+Gerald retained his man and entered the Warrington mansion. A block
+farther down Wilshire Boulevard Scanlan's taxi halted, and a half block
+behind that Jim Hanvey left his taxi.</p>
+
+<p>Jim, alone of the three, dismissed his driver. And then, slowly and
+purposefully, puffing on a cigar, Jim waddled up the street toward
+Scanlan's automobile.</p>
+
+<p>"'Lo, Billy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Jim!"</p>
+
+<p>"Have a good ride?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty good."</p>
+
+<p>"Just wanted to let you know I follered you, Billy. All I done it for
+was to make sure you was watchin' young Corwin yonder. I'll be trottin'
+back to town now." He addressed Scanlan's driver: "Which street car do
+I take to get back to town?"</p>
+
+<p>The driver vouchsafed the desired information. Scanlan could not
+forbear a question:</p>
+
+<p>"Where's your taxi, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"I let it go. Taxis are terribly expensive." And Hanvey moved heavily
+away.</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan's vigil continued for more than an hour. Then through the gates
+of the Warrington home swung a limousine. It stopped briefly while
+Corwin alighted, paid his taxi and then returned to the big car. The
+route into the city was more direct this time, and Scanlan followed
+Corwin and Colonel Warrington into one of the larger Broadway office
+buildings. He saw them enter the offices of a law firm and knew that
+Corwin had won the first move of the game by persuading Warrington to
+issue his proxy in favor of the McIntosh interests.</p>
+
+<p>From his vantage point in the marbled hallway Scanlan kept watch.
+Eventually he saw a young man emerge from the offices of the firm of
+lawyers and enter a smaller office down the hall which was marked "Real
+Estate &amp; Insurance. Notary Public." A second young man returned with the first and in his hand was a small
+notarial seal. It was obvious to Scanlan that if there was a notary in
+the law firm he was out at the moment. Alone again, Scanlan ascertained
+the name of the notary—Leopold Jones.</p>
+
+<p>When Warrington and Corwin descended in an elevator a few minutes
+later Scanlan did not follow. Instead he produced from his pocket an
+income-tax blank and went with it to the office of Leopold Jones. Of
+that young gentleman he requested an attestation of his income-tax
+return. Mr. Jones found Mr. Scanlan an engaging talker and they chatted
+for several minutes. When Mr. Scanlan eventually departed Mr. Jones was
+happily unaware of the fact that in Mr. Scanlan's coat pocket reposed
+his, Mr. Jones', notarial seal.</p>
+
+<p>From the office building Scanlan visited the city ticket office of the
+Santa Fe Railroad. He learned readily enough that Drawing-room A in
+Car S-17, California Limited, for Friday morning had been sold the day
+previous to a very fat gentleman. He bought Compartment C in the same
+car. He returned to the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Thus far things appeared propitious for Mr. Scanlan.</p>
+
+<p>Jim was a hindrance, of course, and a grave one; but Scanlan operated
+on the theory that no vigilance is so keen that it cannot be eluded.
+There remained nothing now save the trip east. At some time between the
+departure from Los Angeles and the arrival in Chicago it was incumbent
+upon Mr. Scanlan to secure from Corwin the Warrington proxy.</p>
+
+<p>That night—Wednesday—the three men dined together, Corwin's distaste
+swallowed up by his keening interest in the peculiar friendship
+existing between Hanvey and Scanlan. Corwin had always held the idea
+that criminals and detectives clashed on sight; that the former were
+habitually in flight and the latter constantly in pursuit. To see
+them chatting amiably about topics in general, reminiscing over past
+escapades of Scanlan and exploits of other criminals and swapping
+theories on unsolved crimes was astounding. Corwin found it hard to
+reconcile himself to the fact that at the moment the portly detective
+and the would-be-gentleman crook were engaged in a battle of wits. He
+later discussed the matter with Hanvey.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you arrest Scanlan?"</p>
+
+<p>"Arrest him? He ain't done nothin'."</p>
+
+<p>"He's planning to."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't arrest a man for what he's got in his head. If you could the
+jails'd be overflowin'."</p>
+
+<p>"You could arrest him for that McCarthy affair I heard him telling you
+about. He confesses he was involved in the swindle."</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, you know I wouldn't touch him for that! He just passed that dope
+on as a friend."</p>
+
+<p>"But I didn't know that policemen and criminals were friends."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey smiled wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>"'Bout the only friends I got in this world, son, are crooks. Most of
+them are servin' time. Some of 'em I put there. But we're friends. This
+here solid-gold watch charm—that was given me by one of the niftiest
+con men in the world. I sure hated to send him up."</p>
+
+<p>They checked out of the hotel Friday morning. Billy Scanlan was at
+the station when they arrived. The heavy train rumbled under the shed
+and they settled themselves for the three-day journey to Chicago. At
+Hanvey's invitation Scanlan joined them in the drawing-room and they
+became absorbed in a game of setback at half a cent a point.</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey and Scanlan waxed violently enthusiastic over the game——"King
+for high." "Trey low?" "Well, dog-gone your ornery hide——" "You're a
+rotten setback player, Mr. Corwin; y'oughta learn somethin' 'bout the
+fine points of the game."</p>
+
+<p>Nothing to indicate that a crisis was approaching, no outward
+manifestation of the drama which was imminent. Occasionally Corwin
+reassured himself by touching his coat, in the lining of which was
+sewed the envelope containing the proxy which controlled a railroad.
+Once Hanvey saw the gesture and he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's safe all right, son. It'll stay safe unless you lose your coat."</p>
+
+<p>Corwin flushed angrily. Hanvey rightly interpreted his anger and
+extended a fat and reassuring hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't giving no dope away. Billy knew where you had the proxy,
+didn't you, Billy?"</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! It's the regular place."</p>
+
+<p>Both men—detective and criminal—were vastly amused by Corwin's
+obviousness, and Corwin knew it. But he didn't care. Perhaps the lining
+of a coat was the regular place to keep a valuable document; certainly
+it was a safe one; and Hanvey might have been more careful than to
+remove the last vestige of doubt from Scanlan's mind. Corwin knew that
+Scanlan could not possibly get the proxy. Such a thing was impossible
+during the day, and at night Corwin planned to use the coat as a pillow.</p>
+
+<p>Following a light breakfast the next morning, Corwin made his way
+forward to the club car for a shave. He removed coat, collar and tie,
+for the moment unmindful of Scanlan. When the hot towel was removed
+from his face and fresh lather applied he noticed Scanlan sitting with
+two other men, awaiting his turn for a shave. Next to Scanlan was Jim
+Hanvey. Corwin sighed relievedly.</p>
+
+<p>The barber shaved the right side of Corwin's face, then turned him in
+the chair to get at the other side. As he did so Scanlan cast a glance
+of simulated impatience at the waiting men, rose, donned coat and hat
+and left the club car.</p>
+
+<p>But the coat which Scanlan wore on leaving the car was Corwin's!</p>
+
+<p>In five minutes' time he returned. Corwin was just emerging from the
+chair. Hanvey was slumped in a corner immersed in the very-female
+pictures of a weekly periodical. Scanlan removed Corwin's coat and
+extended it to that young gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"Took your coat by accident, Mr. Corwin. Just discovered my mistake."</p>
+
+<p>Corwin's face blanched. He grabbed the coat and touched the spot where
+the proxy had been. For a single wild instant Corwin contemplated
+bodily assault, and only the hulking figure of Jim Hanvey and his slow,
+drawling voice prevented.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, son? What's the matter? You look all het up."</p>
+
+<p>"This thief——"</p>
+
+<p>"Whoa, son, whoa! That ain't no kind of a name to call a crook."</p>
+
+<p>Corwin whirled on Hanvey.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know what you're talking about! This man has that proxy! He
+just stole it from me!"</p>
+
+<p>Jim was unperturbed. He turned mildly reproving eyes upon the amused
+countenance of his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't go an' do that, did you, Billy?"</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Corwin seems to think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll be dog-goned! Let's git together an' kinder talk things
+over."</p>
+
+<p>Back through the swaying, grinding cars went the procession, Scanlan
+leading, Hanvey next and Corwin bringing up the rear. Corwin was in
+a cold fury. He felt that he was being made ridiculous—they were
+laughing at him. He didn't like the looks of the whole business anyway.
+What assurance had he that Hanvey and Scanlan were not confederates?
+They were suspiciously intimate, and Hanvey must have seen
+Scanlan——In the privacy of their drawing-room Corwin's sinewy figure
+towered over Scanlan.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't give me back that proxy I'll break every bone in your
+rotten body."</p>
+
+<p>Jim restrained the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Them's awful harsh words, Jack Dalton."</p>
+
+<p>Corwin shook him off.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you're as crooked as he is. I've had my suspicions from the
+first, and I'm not going to allow any pair like you to make a monkey of
+me."</p>
+
+<p>It was Scanlan who spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Just what are you going to do about it, Mr. Corwin?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do a-plenty!"</p>
+
+<p>"Giving me a licking isn't going to get you anywhere except in jail.
+We're in New Mexico now; and if you lay a finger on me I'll have you
+dumped in the Albuquerque lockup to-night; and you can't do the same to
+me, because you haven't got a lick of proof."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you let us search you and your compartment?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surest thing you know!" He turned to the detective. "C'mon, Jim. Get
+busy."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey shrugged and reached for one of his black cigars.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't gonna waste my time, Billy. If you've got that proxy there ain't
+no use of my searchin' for it now. I've just got to think things over
+and get a hunch where you put it. Then I'll get it."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean," interrogated Corwin furiously, "that you're not even
+going to search this man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do. I mean just that exact thing, son."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I will!"</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan meekly submitted to the search. Once as Corwin's trembling,
+clumsy fingers probed into a pocket he deliberately winked at Hanvey,
+and at the conclusion of the personal search Scanlan led the way to his
+compartment. Twenty minutes later Corwin, dispirited and dully angry,
+returned to the drawing-room, where he found Hanvey gazing stolidly out
+of the window. The detective spoke without turning his head.</p>
+
+<p>"When you git peeved, son, you sure git peeved all over."</p>
+
+<p>The younger man did not answer. He slouched opposite and tried to
+think, to piece together the ends of this tangled skein. He was
+distrustful of every one, particularly of the slothful Hanvey. Jim's
+only other remark did not add to his comfort.</p>
+
+<p>"You sure was careless with that coat, Mr. Corwin—awful careless."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey was right. He had been careless, inexcusably so. True, there had
+been a feeling of safety in the knowledge that Hanvey was also in the
+barber shop; but there was small solace in the thought that it wasn't
+entirely his fault that too great confidence had been placed by his
+employer in Hanvey's ability. And now, should Hanvey fail to recover
+the proxy, he—Corwin—was ruined, a brilliant career abruptly and
+ignominiously terminated.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, in Compartment C, behind a locked door, Scanlan was busy.
+He obtained a table from the porter and then proceeded to open his
+suitcase, to unpack it, to remove a false bottom and extract from the
+space disclosed a sheaf of legal-appearing documents. Each of these was
+strikingly similar to the proxy which lay beside them on the table.</p>
+
+<p>Then slowly and painstakingly Scanlan prepared a duplicate proxy,
+being very careful that his forging of Colonel Warrington's name
+should be patently a forgery. The finished job was a masterpiece. No
+one unfamiliar with Warrington's signature could guess that this was
+not genuine, yet a comparison left no room for doubt that Scanlan's
+work was a forgery. Carefully he inscribed the attestation, affixing
+thereto the impress of the notarial seal he had stolen from the
+office of Mr. Leopold Jones. That done, he viewed his handiwork with
+pardonable pride. He next destroyed the other blank proxies which had
+been prepared by the Quincy-Scott crowd in New York, placed the forged
+proxy in the false bottom of his suitcase and put the genuine proxy in
+an outside pocket of his coat.</p>
+
+<p>At lunch time Scanlan found Hanvey sitting alone at one end of the
+diner while Corwin sulked at the other. The crook paused by the
+detective's table and cheerfully accepted Hanvey's invitation to join.
+Jim nodded toward the tragic figure at the other end of the car.</p>
+
+<p>"You sure have played tarnation thunder with that kid, Billy."</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan shook his head. Naturally tender-hearted, he was genuinely
+regretful.</p>
+
+<p>"Business is business, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Yep, so it is. Kinda tough on the kid, though. He feels bad, knowin'
+he played right into your hands. An' I ain't feelin' any too spry
+myself." The detective's dull eyes turned toward his companion and
+blinked slowly. "Where have you got that proxy, Billy?"</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't admitted that I have it."</p>
+
+<p>"No-o. An' I didn't ask you to admit nothin'. The point bein' that you
+can't get away with it, kid. I'll have you held when we get to Chicago
+and search you—a search that is a search."</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan registered apprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"That ain't fair, Jim. You ain't got a lick of proof that I have the
+proxy."</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. But I intend to get it."</p>
+
+<p>From the diner Scanlan went back to the observation platform to think
+things over. He did not relish the prospect of an additional thirty-six
+hours on the same car with Hanvey. He contemplated dropping off at
+Albuquerque, then thought better of it. Jim would merely remain with
+him. And then an idea came.</p>
+
+<p>At eight o'clock the train pulled into the handsome station at the
+capital of New Mexico for a one-hour layover. Scanlan walked swiftly up
+the street toward the post office. There he prevailed upon a registry
+clerk to accept a letter. In a long envelope he inclosed a note to
+Phares Scott and with it the proxy he had that day stolen from Gerald
+Corwin. He sent the document both special delivery and registered. It
+would get to New York a day or two late, perhaps, but still in ample
+time for the meeting. Besides, it was not essential that it get there
+at all. It was only necessary that the McIntosh forces be deprived of
+its possession.</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan would have destroyed the thing in preference, but he knew that
+he would have difficulty in collecting his fee unless the document
+itself was produced.</p>
+
+<p>But even though Billy Scanlan had left the train at Albuquerque, Hanvey
+and Corwin had not. Hanvey, making quite sure that Scanlan had gone,
+entered Scanlan's compartment in Corwin's company. The manner of the
+big detective had momentarily lost its sluggishness. He questioned
+Corwin.</p>
+
+<p>"Where'd you search?"</p>
+
+<p>Corwin told him. Jim shook his massive head.</p>
+
+<p>"How 'bout his suitcase?"</p>
+
+<p>"I looked in there, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure—of course you did, son. Naturally. But let us try it again."</p>
+
+<p>Jim dumped the contents unceremoniously on the seat. With deft fingers
+he went through every garment and even inspected the contents of the
+rolled traveling case.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," commented Corwin resentfully. "I told you nothing was there."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey paid him no heed. He had closed the suitcase and was inspecting
+it carefully. Then suddenly he turned it over and thumped it with a
+heavy, spatulate finger. His pursy lips creased into a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Think we got somethin', son."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see."</p>
+
+<p>The suitcase was reopened and Hanvey fumbled inside for a moment. Then
+a button unfastened here and one there and he removed the false bottom.
+He extended the envelope to Corwin.</p>
+
+<p>"Better see that he don't get another chance at it, son."</p>
+
+<p>With fingers that trembled the younger man spread open the forged
+proxy, never questioning its genuineness. There it was—Warrington's
+signature, Jones' attestation, the notarial seal. Corwin seized Jim's
+hand and wrung it gratefully. His voice was choky.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been a rotter, Mr. Hanvey. I suspected you of being a
+confederate——"</p>
+
+<p>"'Sall right, Mr. Corwin. 'Sall right. Don't slop over."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help it. I feel like a cur."</p>
+
+<p>"Gwan!" Hanvey was touched by the boyish gratitude of his young friend.
+"Let's get this stuff back in here. Scanlan'll spot that we have the
+thing, but it wouldn't be decent to leave his stuff all spread out like
+this."</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes before leaving time Scanlan returned to his compartment.
+He opened his suitcase, discerned the disorder—and grinned. Then,
+pretending disappointment and fury, he rapped on the door of
+Drawing-room A. Inside he faced Corwin.</p>
+
+<p>"You wanted to start something a little while ago, Mr. Corwin," he
+snapped, "when you thought I copped a paper from your coat. Well, I'm
+here to say that whenever you're ready you just wade right in, because,
+no matter what I've done, I never robbed a gent's suitcase."</p>
+
+<p>A hard, chill smile appeared on Corwin's lips. He rose slowly. From the
+window seat Hanvey viewed the tableau amusedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Get out!" ordered Corwin.</p>
+
+<p>"Put me out!"</p>
+
+<p>"Get out or I shall!"</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan's eyes met those of the other man, and Scanlan discreetly
+withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>But that night Scanlan lay in his berth, smoking and smiling. Success
+had blessed his strategy. The Warrington proxy was en route to New York
+by registered mail, the envelope specifically marked "For Delivery to
+Addressee Only." Better still, Jim Hanvey thought he had recovered the
+document. There was the strongest point in Scanlan's favor—the fact
+that Jim was smugly contented. Now all he had to do was to assume the
+attitude of a man thwarted. He was a trifle sorry for poor old Jim,
+yet it was no lack of acumen on Jim's part, but rather a superlative
+cunning on his own.</p>
+
+<p>During the final twenty-four hours of the journey to Chicago, Gerald
+Corwin clung to the supposed proxy with a pitiful grimness. Alone with
+Hanvey in their drawing-room, he sat with his hand against the pocket
+of his coat. He shaved himself. He slept with the coat for a pillow.</p>
+
+<p>"He got it once," he explained to Hanvey. "He won't again."</p>
+
+<p>Jim smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Once ought to be enough for any man."</p>
+
+<p>"What made you think of a false bottom to that suitcase, Mr. Hanvey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Same thing that made Billy think of the lining of your coat. Plumb
+obvious. Gosh! I'll bet Billy's ravin'."</p>
+
+<p>Corwin was frankly admiring.</p>
+
+<p>"And I thought you were no good! I even thought you might be
+double-crossing McIntosh!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's right, son; that's right. Never trust nobody an' you'll never
+get a shock. That's my motto. The honester a person is supposed to be
+the easier he can crook you."</p>
+
+<p>They reached Chicago at noon of the following day. Hanvey and Corwin
+boarded the Pennsylvania for New York. Scanlan secured a berth on
+the New York Central. Freed from the Scanlan menace, Corwin thawed
+slightly and attempted to make late amends to his benefactor. He even
+summoned sufficient courage to request a closer inspection of Jim's
+gold toothpick and to say complimentary things about the fearful weapon
+which had been anathema to him. Jim bloomed under the praise of his
+decoration.</p>
+
+<p>"Feller that gave me that had sense," he said earnestly. "It ain't only
+beautiful—it's useful."</p>
+
+<p>Corwin repressed a shudder.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it is."</p>
+
+<p>The gratitude of the younger man was pathetic. He grimly determined to
+invite Jim to dinner some night—the ultimate test of his fortitude.</p>
+
+<p>They reached New York on time and repaired immediately to the offices
+of the K. R. &amp; P. There Gerald Corwin delivered over to Garet McIntosh
+the Warrington proxy. McIntosh congratulated the young man and assured
+him of the directors' appreciation. But before leaving the room Corwin
+made a straight-eyed confession.</p>
+
+<p>"You must thank Mr. Hanvey," he said. "The proxy was stolen from me on
+the train and Mr. Hanvey recovered it."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" McIntosh dismissed Corwin with a nod and reached for his
+notebook. "How about it, Hanvey?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim grinned. "Don't listen to nothin' the kid says, Mr. McIntosh. He's
+game all through, that lad. But it was funny."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Billy Scanlan faced Phares Scott and gave a detailed
+report of the success of his mission. A gleam of admiration appeared in
+the steely eyes of the financier.</p>
+
+<p>"Good work!" he commented briefly. "You'll get your pay when the proxy
+arrives."</p>
+
+<p>The following day at noon, Scanlan presented himself at Scott's office.
+His reward was paid in legal tender——"To avoid the embarrassment of a
+check." Scanlan nodded and pocketed the money.</p>
+
+<p>"The proxy?" he questioned.</p>
+
+<p>"We've destroyed it. Simply wanted to look it over to make sure we were
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>That night Billy Scanlan celebrated. The following morning he awakened
+with a violent headache, and was aroused by a ringing of his telephone.</p>
+
+<p>"Jim Hanvey," announced the slow, drawling voice on the other end. "Can
+I come up?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim came. He regarded Scanlan interestedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I judge they paid you off all right," he commented.</p>
+
+<p>"They did," admitted Scanlan. "What about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin'; nothin' in particular." Hanvey glanced at his watch, a
+tremendous affair, gaudily engraved. "Only that the stockholders'
+meetin' takes place in just about one hour, an' as a friend I advise
+you to beat it an' beat it quick."</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan sat upright, hands pressed against his throbbing forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"Me beat it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-huh."</p>
+
+<p>"What for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Takin' pay from the Quincy-Scott crowd for somethin' you didn't do.
+They're li'ble to get awful sore."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you talking about, Jim? You know good and well I got away
+with it."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey shook his head. "Nothin' of the kind, Billy; an' I'm advisin'
+you as a friend to beat it—an' stay put."</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of the other man narrowed.</p>
+
+<p>"You must be gettin' into your second childhood, Jim. Do you mean to
+tell me that you haven't yet found out that the proxy you stole from my
+suitcase was a fake?"</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey's voice was quite matter of fact.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that? Sure, I knew all the time that was a fake."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then——"</p>
+
+<p>"What you ain't never stopped to realize," explained the detective, "is
+this: The proxy you swiped from young Corwin wasn't no good either."</p>
+
+<p>Scanlan rose abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean—no good? Old man Warrington executed it——"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure he did! An' the next day he executed another to McIntosh. That
+second one was the only one worth the paper it was written on. It
+nullified the first, an' I had it in my pocket all the time. An' when
+that real proxy appears at the meetin' to-day the gang you were workin'
+for is li'ble to get all het up. You see, Billy, you and Corwin both
+had the wrong dope. I wasn't on that train to keep you from gettin'
+that proxy off Corwin; I was there to see you did get it so you
+wouldn't bother me none, me bein' the real messenger."</p>
+
+<p>Headache forgotten, Billy Scanlan leaped for his suitcase and commenced
+a frenzy of packing.</p>
+
+<p>"I might've known you were too easy, Jim! I might've known it! Anyway,
+they paid me off yesterday——"</p>
+
+<p>"That's what tickles me," replied Jim; "you gittin' paid for that
+proxy. It's a swell joke on them fellers. An' say, I got somethin' to
+show you. You know young Corwin was awful grateful for what I done."</p>
+
+<p>"He should have been."</p>
+
+<p>"He was. He sent me a present this morning. Ain't it swell?"</p>
+
+<p>And beaming with pride Hanvey exhibited the gift of the fastidious
+Gerald Corwin.</p>
+
+<p>It was a gold-handled toothbrush.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="HELEN_OF_TROY_N_Y">HELEN OF TROY, N. Y.</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The first summer blast of a Southern spring-time failed to inspire Jim
+Hanvey to hallelujahs. The mammoth detective lounged uncomfortably in
+his tiny apartment, cursing the unkind fates which had first been too
+liberal in their apportionment of avoirdupois and then caused him to be
+temporarily located in that section of the country where the intense
+heat makes for healthy cotton and lethargic humanity.</p>
+
+<p>Southern spring is a season of constant doubt and surprise. One goes
+to bed innocent of sheets and arises shiveringly at three in the
+morning to resurrect blankets from a moth-ball depository. Overcoats
+are one day in order, and on the next palm-beach suits are inspected
+longingly. On Wednesday the fresh young leaves will struggle against
+the near-frost of the previous night, and on Thursday wilt before the
+ravages of unseasonable heat. Winter does not merge gently into summer.
+The thermometer fluctuates uncertainly like a woman torn between the
+competitive allure of two bargain counters.</p>
+
+<p>To-day it was hot, genuinely and unreservedly hot, and Jim's physique
+had never been intended to withstand heat. He slumped miserably in a
+wicker chair, puffing disconsolately upon a cigar and staring with
+fixed distaste at the weather forecast: "Clear. Continued warm."</p>
+
+<p>A profound sigh escaped from the recesses of Jim Hanvey. "O death,
+where is thy heat?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim was capable of intense feeling, and this day that capability was
+working overtime. He was utterly and supremely unhappy both as to the
+present and in contemplation of the future. If this was April, what,
+then, would July be?</p>
+
+<p>He scarcely heard the clangor of his telephone, and only when that
+instrument had sent its raucous summons dinning into his ears for the
+third time did he conscript sufficient energy to hoist himself from the
+wicker chair. His voice was not at all friendly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Lo!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" A queer, interested expression flitted over Jim's features.
+Woman's voice. Hmph! "Is that Mr. Hanvey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Almost."</p>
+
+<p>"This is a friend of yours, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't got any friends to-day. Too hot."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm coming up."</p>
+
+<p>"That's fine. Apartment 4-B. Door's unlocked. Walk right in."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!"</p>
+
+<p>"And, say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't expect me to get up. When the mercury climbs this high I stay
+put."</p>
+
+<p>He recrossed the room and slumped down into his chair again; but no
+longer did his face reflect the misery of the flesh.</p>
+
+<p>His florid countenance was wrinkled speculatively. The voice of the
+woman had been vaguely familiar; memory probed inquisitively into the
+past. Jim shook his tremendous head from side to side.</p>
+
+<p>"She called me Jim an' said she was a friend of mine."</p>
+
+<p>Pudgy fingers toyed idly with the hawserlike watch chain connecting his
+timepiece and himself.</p>
+
+<p>The front door opened. Footsteps sounded from the hallway. All outward
+indication of interest fled from Jim's face leaving it as expressionful
+as the visage of a cow at milking time. Then the woman appeared in
+the doorway, and instantly Jim recognized her. The heartiness of his
+greeting was thoroughly sincere.</p>
+
+<p>"Helen of Troy." He smiled and added, "New York."</p>
+
+<p>The woman swept across the room and pressed a light kiss on the
+forehead of the detective.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear old Jim! It's good to see you again."</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh, ain't it? Lord! I'm hot." Jim's eyelids drooped with exasperating
+slowness over his fishy orbs, held shut for a moment, then opened
+again. "Step over yonder, Helen. Lemme give you the once-over."</p>
+
+<p>The woman obeyed, and Jim nodded approvingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Million dollars—plus, Helen. That's you."</p>
+
+<p>She was far from unattractive as she stood by the window. True, she was
+not of the general type which inspires the plaudits of a connoisseur;
+but for all practical purposes she was there seven ways from the ace.
+In the first place she was blond—magnificently and unyieldingly blond
+from the shrieking crown of gold upon her head to the tips of her long,
+slender, dead-white fingers. She was amply supplied with a figure which
+had been apportioned liberally and with an eye to ensemble rather than
+lissomeness. The effect was not to be denied: Floppy white panama with
+orchid trimmings; an elaborate street dress of white and orchid crêpe
+de chine; orchid stockings of chiffon, and white shoes. She pridefully
+submitted to his inspection and thrilled to his comment.</p>
+
+<p>Said he, "Once seen, never forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>"You think I'm looking well, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Terrible good. Terrible." He mopped his forehead. "How do you stand
+this heat?"</p>
+
+<p>She laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"We've lived South ever since we were married. That's six years."</p>
+
+<p>"And three months," he amplified. "Ever since Johnny finished that last
+stretch. Me, I'd just as lief be in stir. Sit down. How's Johnny?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman's face clouded slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's about him I came to see you, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Much obliged to Johnny." He relighted his cigar. "What's he doin' now?
+Con?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"We've been straight ever since we hitched up. You ought to know that,
+Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Ought to. Just thought maybe he was keepin' away from my line. I'm
+with the Bankers' Protective now, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it; that's why I came to you."</p>
+
+<p>He stretched out.</p>
+
+<p>"Spill it, Helen. I'm all ears—all ears and perspiration, I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"You've always been a friend of ours, Jim. You play square. You sent
+Johnny up once, but he didn't hold that against you; it was all his
+fault for gettin' caught. And he made a regular killin' that time,
+Jim—you remember they never did get the stuff. Well, when he got out
+we decided to get married and go straight. Of course we didn't know how
+we'd like it, but we did think it was worth trying—understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! Novelty. Any time you didn't like it you could turn crooked
+again."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it. Well, I've liked it, an' so has Johnny. No dicks worryin'
+us, everything running smooth. It's been a real nice experience, Jim.
+I never would have believed there was so much fun in bein' honest. And
+after a while—well, it sort of gets to be a habit. Now I've come to
+the point where I wouldn't change for anything."</p>
+
+<p>She paused. He blinked with disconcerting slowness.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>She leaned forward tensely.</p>
+
+<p>"Johnny's planning to pull a job!"</p>
+
+<p>"Huh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Johnny's planning to pull another job. He's got a chance for a neat
+killing, and he's going to try it."</p>
+
+<p>Jim's head rolled sorrowfully upon his fat shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"That's too dog-goned bad! After runnin' straight this long!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is too bad, Jim. That's why I've come to you."</p>
+
+<p>"What's why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to keep him straight. I know I can trust you, so I'm going
+to slip you the whole works, and I want you to steer him off. There
+ain't a bit of sense to his going crooked again. We've got all the
+money we need; but the thing looks so easy—you know how it is."</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-huh. I know. What you expect me to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"The job he's planning, Jim, is a bank job. That would bring you into
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Jim's lips drew into a protuberant circle and a low whistle escaped.</p>
+
+<p>"Bank job, eh? His old line. That's plumb silly."</p>
+
+<p>"I've told him so; told him a dozen times. But he says it's a cinch.
+Sure thing. Bah!"—bitterly. "It's a sure thing he wouldn't get away
+with it."</p>
+
+<p>"But he thinks he can."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it. I know just how he feels, Jim. I've felt that way myself
+a dozen times when I've seen some dame out at the race track wearing
+a million dollars' worth of sparklers. I'd remember how good I used
+to be at that sort of thing and my fingers would just naturally itch.
+It seemed a shame to pass it up. But"—righteously—"I've given
+temptation the go-by, Jim. I haven't pulled a job since I got hitched
+up to Johnny, though I've had chances enough. You always have when
+you're running straight. Sometimes I've felt like I'd give everything I
+had just for the sport of reducing the weight of some fat dame to the
+extent of a coupla carats. Well, the bug's got Johnny now. Things have
+played into his hands and he's rarin' to go. I told him you was down in
+this part of the country, but he only laughed. 'Reckon I can get away
+with this in spite of Jim Hanvey,' he said. The poor fish! You know
+good and well, Jim, there ain't any crook can buck you and get away
+with it, is there?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"What you tryin' to do—vamp me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lord forbid! It would be too much trouble for the result."</p>
+
+<p>"That sounds more like my frank friend. Now please continue to go on."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to give you a straight steer on this job of Johnny's. I
+want to leave it all in your hands. You ought to be able to head him
+off. I know I'm foolish to be so dead set on honesty and all that sort
+of romantic stuff, but I can't help it. Reckon I've been seeing too
+many movies or something." She leaned forward tensely, giving off an
+aroma of heavy and expensive perfumes, her fingers glittering with an
+imposing array of rings. "I want to stay straight, Jim—I sure do! And
+I want Johnny to do likewise."</p>
+
+<p>Jim reached for a fresh cigar and settled back comfortably in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mind these, do you, Helen?"</p>
+
+<p>"We-e-ll, I haven't any right to kick when I'm asking you a favor."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks."</p>
+
+<p>He snipped off the end of the cigar and lighted up with gusto.</p>
+
+<p>"Since Johnny turned straight he's been gambling," she explained.
+"No rough stuff, nor nothing like that. Of course I'm not claiming
+that he hasn't rung in the works once in a while when he's hooked a
+particularly easy mark or that maybe he hasn't managed to read the
+backs of a few cards; but that's all part of the profession. The point
+is he hasn't been crooked—understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! I get you."</p>
+
+<p>"Last two seasons he's been oralizing down in New Orleans—both tracks
+there: Fair Grounds and Jefferson Parish. Business has been pretty
+good, but nothing extra. New Orleans is a wise town on horses. They're
+the very devil on backing the favorites and that's awful tough on the
+bookies. Anyway racing has kinder got into Johnny's blood. He started
+off last year by buying a few cheap platers—called himself owning
+a stable. And finally he come into a two-year-old that is a colt.
+Lightning Bolt is the name. Y'oughter see that angel run!</p>
+
+<p>"Major Torrance clocked that baby one time in a workout and wanted
+him; wanted him bad. Johnny didn't hanker to let him go. They talked
+price, but nothing come of it. Everybody knew the old gent was nuts on
+Lightning Bolt and was gonna get him sooner or later—everybody except
+him. And just recently Johnny found out that the major had booked
+passage for Europe on the Homeric, sailing out of New York day after
+to-morrow—Thursday. Also that Torrance's stable was bein' shipped
+North for the New York season. And that's where Johnny fell."</p>
+
+<p>She paused, one white-shod foot tapping the floor. Jim sat in supine
+silence, apparently oblivious of her presence.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she continued tensely, "that's where Johnny took his tumble. He
+told the major he'd sell Lightning Bolt, provided the old geezer would
+buy all the rest of his stable—four other horses. The price for the
+bunch was eight thousand dollars. The deal went through. Those horses
+went North with the Torrance stable the other day when the season ended
+in New Orleans. Old man Torrance sails from New York in a couple of
+days. Of course you can prove up on all of this; the real point being
+that Johnny holds the major's check for eight thousand dollars."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice died away. Out of the silence which followed came Jim's
+drawling voice:</p>
+
+<p>"An' one little teeny letter added onto an eight makes an eighty."</p>
+
+<p>The luxurious blonde glanced sharply at the big man in the wicker
+chair, her eyes narrowing slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"What made you think——"</p>
+
+<p>"Two an' two always did make four, sister."</p>
+
+<p>Her fingers interlaced nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the layout, Jim. He's planning to raise that check and make a
+get-away——" Her voice trailed off. "And that isn't all."</p>
+
+<p>"No?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim's query was a mere indication of interest rather than an effort to
+extract further information.</p>
+
+<p>"Not all, Jim. It's this way——" She hitched her chair closer and
+laid one ringed hand on Jim's knee. The ponderous man seemed unmindful
+of it—for a moment. Then he moved away. "Just before Johnny turned
+straight and married me he pulled one last big job. It was regular and
+all that. The poor sucker they caught was hog-tied; he didn't dare let
+out a yap. Johnny made a clean-up on it and with that amount added to
+what he had he retired with about a quarter of a million bucks." There
+was conscious pride in her final declaration: "Johnny never was a
+piker."</p>
+
+<p>"He sure wasn't, Helen. Great chap, Johnny."</p>
+
+<p>"That quarter of a million has been salted away in Liberty Bonds.
+Johnny bought 'em at about 84 and they're pretty near par now.
+He's dead stuck on 'em; says when they jumped in value it was the
+first honest money he ever made. He never would touch 'em. Kind of
+superstitious. But, Jim, he's planning to dig into 'em now."</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's got a chance of opening a big gambling place down near Juarez.
+Things like that take cash—a wad of it. So Johnny is fixing to borrow
+on his Liberties."</p>
+
+<p>"Borrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He's superstitious about them, like I told you, and he don't want
+to sell. He figures he can borrow two hundred thousand on the things.
+Then he's going to raise that Torrance check from eight thousand to
+eighty. That'll give him $280,000 in cash—more than enough for what he
+wants. He'll sink a heap of that into the business, and at the first
+opportunity he plans to come back, redeem his Liberties and salt 'em
+away again. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey was apparently not listening. He stared moodily through the
+window, lower jaw drooping, the ash on his cigar perilously lengthy.
+Finally he turned his glassy eyes upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"How c'n you look so cool when it's so durned hot?"</p>
+
+<p>She bit her lip.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you understand, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" He blinked with interminable slowness. "Oh, about Johnny an' his
+gamblin' house an' the Liberty Bonds an' all that? Sure, that's easy.
+Johnny's just naturally plannin' to get wicked again, ain't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"And I don't want him to. There ain't anything in the world like being
+honest, Jim; I've found that out. It's the grandest feeling I've ever
+had. I wouldn't turn crooked again for anything in the world—unless
+we really needed the money. I don't want Johnny to. He's been out of
+the game so long he's liable to pull a boner and lose what he's got."</p>
+
+<p>"You sure spoke a mouthful then, sister. That's a downright crude stunt
+Johnny is figgerin' on pullin'. Of course, him plannin' to beat it into
+Mexico, anyway——"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd hate to live there. Never did like Mexican cooking—chili an' hot
+tamales and all that sort of thing. And the climate——"</p>
+
+<p>"Hotter'n this, ain't it?"</p>
+
+<p>She didn't answer. For a few moments silence held between them, tense
+silence punctured only by the ticking of the cheap alarm clock on the
+mantel and the bellowing of a group of boys playing in the street below.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got to help me, Jim—got to help me keep Johnny straight. He'll
+listen to you where he laughs at me."</p>
+
+<p>"Awful glad to do a little job like that, Helen. I'm real anxious
+Johnny shouldn't turn crooked again. He's got brains enough to make an
+honest livin'. Lemme see—when's he plannin' to pass this bum check?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two or three days. You see, Jim, he'll borrow the two hundred thousand
+on his bonds—borrow it from a local banking house—Starnes &amp; Company.
+When he deposits their check for that amount he'll deposit along with
+it Major Torrance's check for eighty thousand; and the eighty-thousand
+one being so much smaller than the other, they won't pay a whole lot
+of attention to it. Then he'll check against the total sum. Ain't that
+clever?"</p>
+
+<p>"Awful!" He inhaled deeply. "Awful clever! A good check for two hundred
+thousand and a bum one for eighty, passed right through the bank. Then
+he checks against 'em. Johnny sure uses his head for somethin' more
+than a hatrack."</p>
+
+<p>She rose and threw a light scarf across her plump shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"You promise to keep him straight, Jim? You promise?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! Sure I promise, Helen! Dog-gone this weather!"</p>
+
+<p>She made her adieus and swung down the street toward the city's largest
+hotel. One or two traveling men ogled her and she expanded to the
+pleased consciousness of the effect she was creating. It had always
+been thus, ever since her girlhood in Troy, New York. Blessed with
+voluptuous blondness, men had always flocked about her. Adulation had
+been all in all to her until the advent of Johnny Norton, and to him
+she capitulated utterly.</p>
+
+<p>Johnny had been an honest and efficient wooer. They teamed up and
+knocked about the country until he made his final big killing. Then
+they married and turned straight; but the strain of the past five years
+had been terrific.</p>
+
+<p>Helen rapped on the door of her room and Johnny opened it in person.
+He was a small man, slender and wiry and very much of a dandy in
+his lavender silk shirt, his white sport shoes and his aggressively
+checkered suit. He kissed her dutifully, then stepped back, twisting
+his near-mustache.</p>
+
+<p>Three other men lounged about the room. There was Slim Bolton, a card
+sharper, whose practice had been largely confined to transatlantic
+liners; Happy Gorman, who had attained fame—and a jail sentence—by
+means of an astoundingly clever oil-stock swindle; and Connie Hawes,
+one-time counterfeiter and generally expert flimflam artist. Their
+eyes were focused interestedly upon the Junoesque figure of the woman
+who stood with her back against the door, enjoying to the ultimate her
+calcium moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she announced pridefully, "Jim Hanvey fell for it!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of tense silence.</p>
+
+<p>At last, Johnny Norton pulling nervously at his mustache, voiced the
+question which was uppermost in the minds of all of them:</p>
+
+<p>"You sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Positive! You know how it is, boys. Jim has got only one weakness
+and that's his heart. It's softer than mush. He fell for that
+going-straight stuff like a tabby for a fresh box of catnip. Honest, it
+was a shame to take the money."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"He promised to keep me straight?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh. Reckon it was the first time poor old Jim was ever asked to do
+anything like that." Her face clouded. "I sort of hate to put it over
+on him this way. I'm awful strong for Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"So are all of us." It was Connie Hawes speaking. "But what could we do
+about it? It was a cinch we'd have trouble with Jim, so the best thing
+was to throw him off the track."</p>
+
+<p>Slim Bolton rose and walked to the window. He spoke without turning.</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon this stuff ain't exactly in my line," he commented; "but I
+never did understand the reason for wising Jim up. I'm not saying
+you fellows are wrong, but it looks to me like we are running an
+unnecessary chance."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny Norton made no attempt to conceal his contempt for the slender
+one.</p>
+
+<p>"If you had more than one brain in your head, Slim, they wouldn't have
+barred you from the steamships. The reason Jim had to know it was
+this: He's chief of the detective force of the Bankers' Protective
+Association. Bein' down in this part of the country, it was a dead
+cinch he'd be called in the minute anything irregular happened."</p>
+
+<p>"But nothing irregular——"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing irregular me eye! I borrow two hundred thousand dollars on
+a quarter million dollars' worth of Liberty Bonds. The banking house
+sends 'em over to the bank by messenger for rediscount. You fellows
+bump the messenger and make a get-away with the bonds. Bond robbery
+from a banking house which is a member of the Bankers' Protective. Jim
+Hanvey is called in of course, and first thing he asks is where did
+they get the Liberty Bonds. And when they tell him that a gent named
+John Roden Norton borrowed the money he would be most likely to smell a
+mice; even two or three mices."</p>
+
+<p>"But when this happens——"</p>
+
+<p>"Pff! You fellows are gonna lay low. And Jim already knows all about
+my borrowing the two hundred thou. He even knows about the Juarez
+proposition, and at the very moment you fellows are grabbing off the
+bonds I'll be with Jim Hanvey. Get that? He not only is gonna be set
+easy on borrowing the coin, but he's also gonna be right with me when
+the fireworks are being shot. What's the result? I've got a clean slate
+with Jim. I even let him induce me not to raise Torrance's check—swell
+chance I'd have raisin' that bird's paper—and so Jim will be lovin'
+me real sweet and you guys will be beatin' it to the border with
+them quarter million dollars in bonds. You fellers will cash 'em in
+somewheres——"</p>
+
+<p>"How about the numbers? They ain't registered bonds, I know, but the
+minute that many are stolen the banking house will notify the B. P. A.
+to watch out——"</p>
+
+<p>Helen of Troy had been too long in the background. She didn't like
+it. All her life she had been accustomed to having men stare at her
+and hang upon her words, and so now she took the floor again and gave
+explanation to Slim Bolton, who had but recently been impressed into
+service as the necessary fifth member of the party.</p>
+
+<p>"I and Happy worked out that game," she explained. "Happy is awful keen
+on stocks and bonds and things like that, so he knew that we'd have to
+watch out for those numbers. So what we'll do is this: Johnny, here,
+has already made arrangements for the loan—told the banking house just
+what he wants the money for—and on Thursday he's to swap the bonds and
+his note for the cash. He's due to be on hand at eleven o'clock in the
+morning, but he ain't gonna be. He's gonna get there about half-past
+one, the banks in this burg closin' up at two o'clock. He'll hand over
+the bonds to the president of the banking house and that bird will
+check over the bond numbers with Johnny, Johnny having them written
+down formal-like on a piece of paper.</p>
+
+<p>"And here's the point, Slim: The numbers that Johnny reads out will be
+the numbers of the bonds all right, but the numbers he reads won't be
+the numbers that are written down on this slip of paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Minute he does that he's gonna ask the banker to give him the check
+quick so he can deposit before the bank closes, with the result that
+the banker will accept that list and will give Johnny's slip to the
+bookkeeper for entering in the journal. In other words, the numbers
+that they'll enter up won't be the numbers of the bonds at all, and
+there won't be any check when you get away with 'em. Chances are the
+banking house has already made arrangements to rediscount at one of
+the big banks, and they'll be anxious to shoot the collateral right
+around there; so the whole thing will slip through real pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"And if it don't?" questioned the pessimistic Slim.</p>
+
+<p>She stamped her foot irritably.</p>
+
+<p>"Then it'll simply be a harder matter to dispose of the bonds. They're
+in thousand-dollar denominations, and it would take time, but not be
+dangerous. Anyway you boys are to cash in as soon as you can, shoot the
+two hundred thousand back to Johnny and then Johnny redeems his bonds
+and hikes down there to join you. We can't lose."</p>
+
+<p>"Us fellers do the rough work," commented Connie Hawes. "That ain't
+ever been exactly in my line."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm putting up the kale, ain't I?" queried Johnny. "That ought to
+count some."</p>
+
+<p>"It does. But——"</p>
+
+<p>"But nothing!" snapped Helen of Troy. "The way you boys talk about
+flunking this thing you almost make me ashamed of being a crook."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, in the very limited confines of his room, Jim Hanvey
+had been doing considerable thinking. He sat as Helen had left
+him, overflowing the old wicker chair, puffing solemnly upon the
+long-extinguished stump of his cigar, fat fingers fiddling with his
+watch chain.</p>
+
+<p>Jim was interested; so interested that for a few moments he almost
+forgot the intense heat. He had been asked to keep a crook on the
+straight and narrow.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee! Johnny was a good workman in his day. Funny what wimmin will do
+to a guy."</p>
+
+<p>He was surprised that Johnny had remained straight for this length of
+time. He didn't blame the lad, of course—was sincerely glad that he
+had done so. Helen was a woman in a million, just such a one as Jim
+secretly craved for a wife. She was comfortably large and full-blooded
+and richly blond. "And wise. I'd hate to be married to a boneheaded
+dame." He lighted his cigar stump absently. "Swell-lookin' frail like
+her could almost make me turn crooked. No wonder she's kept Johnny
+straight."</p>
+
+<p>More peculiar than that, however, Jim reflected, was the fact that
+Helen herself had forsaken the rose path. She had been a clever dip in
+her day—none superior—and a smooth worker in other lines. He recalled
+the Starkman blackmail scheme; they'd never been able to hang a thing
+on Helen for that—or Johnny either. Old Starkman's lips had been
+tightly sealed, and not through indifference to money.</p>
+
+<p>"That bimbo didn't love a dollar no more than he did his last pair of
+pants. Helen sure had him dead to rights, someway."</p>
+
+<p>Here was Helen going straight and coming to him for assistance that her
+husband might not step from the road of rectitude. Jim's massive head
+rolled heavily from side to side in wonderment.</p>
+
+<p>He spent the evening at a movie, finding himself aroused to spontaneous
+applause at that portion of the picture which disclosed the husband
+returning home just in time to prevent the elopement of his wife and
+the chauffeur, the latter having turned out to be an old lover in
+disguise. There was a saccharine scene which resulted in a dramatic
+choice between the men, the woman designating her preference by nearly
+strangling her husband while that gentleman beamed happily upon the
+discomfited lover as he slunk miserably away, presumably to another
+household where, perchance, the husband might not return home thus
+inopportunely.</p>
+
+<p>Scenes of that sort were vastly impressive to Jim. He hated bad
+sportsmanship, and the villain-chauffeur in this picture had been a bad
+sport. Crookedness Jim loved. He admired a clever crook and worshiped
+a good woman. There was something massively pitiful about the man as
+he gazed raptly upon the silver screen in the picture show; something
+inexpressibly sad in his demeanor, his abject loneliness. Jim himself
+would have been the last person in the world to realize the void in
+his life. Keen as he was in analysis of others, he was no master of
+introspection. When he emerged from the picture theater it was in the
+grip of a warm, sentimental glow. His simple, direct nature had been
+stirred to the roots. At that moment he desired nothing in life so much
+as to insure Helen the retention of that happiness which a few brief
+years of honest living had brought to her.</p>
+
+<p>The following morning—Wednesday—he visited the banking house
+of Starnes &amp; Company, where Johnny's loan was in the process of
+negotiation. He discovered that Joseph P. Starnes, the president, was
+handling the matter personally and that Johnny had explained frankly
+to Mr. Starnes the use to which the money was to be put.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no concern of mine," explained Mr. Starnes crisply, "what Mr.
+Norton does with that money. As a matter of fact, it has been my
+experience that a professional gambler is highly trustworthy. In the
+second place there is always the chance that his venture will prove
+unprofitable, in which case I shall have recourse to my collateral. It
+is excellent collateral, Mr. Hanvey; as good as money. This house is
+safe—entirely and thoroughly safe."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm! Guess you're about right, Mr. Starnes. Just wanted to know if you
+was wise to what this bird wanted the money for."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I am." Mr. Starnes' manner was curt. He had an instinctive
+antipathy to this hulking representative of the Bankers' Protective
+Association; had more than once seriously considered suggesting to that
+organization that the man was mentally unfitted for the responsibility
+of his position.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I were not it would make no difference. Liberty Bonds form
+security which we cannot question."</p>
+
+<p>Jim rose.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't gonna argue about it."</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing to argue."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. Of course there ain't. That's why I ain't gonna argue
+about it."</p>
+
+<p>That evening Jim dropped in at the hotel where Johnny and Helen were
+registered. He telephoned to their room and was bidden to come up.
+His call abruptly terminated a hectic pinochle game then in progress,
+leaving Happy Gorman a heavy and disgruntled loser. When Jim entered
+the room he discovered Johnny playing solitaire and Helen seated by the
+window, reading a fashion magazine. A significant glance passed between
+the portly detective and the lavishly blond woman. Johnny rose at sight
+and posed for a moment with one hand gripping the card table, a slight
+frown showing.</p>
+
+<p>"'Lo, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny was a most excellent actor. Apparently he was enormously
+surprised at the presence of the Gargantuan gentleman who bulked in the
+doorway. It was Jim who punctured the silence:</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't you glad to see me, Johnny?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why shouldn't I be?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bite. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you think you've got anything on me——"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, g'wan, Johnny! You know durn well that I know you've been goin'
+straight since you and Helen got hitched up. Just heard you were in
+town an' dropped in for a social chat."</p>
+
+<p>Norton appeared relieved. He heaved an impressive sigh and motioned his
+visitor to a chair.</p>
+
+<p>As though for the first time, Jim took notice of Helen. He held her two
+hands in his and stared approvingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Helen of Troy! By gosh, Helen, you're prettier than ever! You've put
+on flesh, but you've been careful where you put it."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all that counts, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yep. Some wimmin are downright careless. How're you an' Johnny gettin'
+along?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mighty well."</p>
+
+<p>"Who you doin' for a livin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"The public. Johnny's been makin' a book down in New Orleans. It's a
+lot of work and a heap of expense, but we've managed to make ends meet."</p>
+
+<p>Jim eyed the cards longingly.</p>
+
+<p>"How 'bout a little three-handed game of setback?"</p>
+
+<p>Chairs were drawn up. They played for a cent a point. It was midnight
+when Jim paid his losses—eighty-one cents—and rose to go.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the life," he commented heartily. Then his face grew serious.
+"Keep it up, Johnny. There's nothin' to this crooked stuff."</p>
+
+<p>"I know that, Jim," returned Norton fervently. "I'm off it."</p>
+
+<p>The door closed behind the detective. Assured that he had departed,
+Johnny crossed the room, took his wife in his arms and implanted a
+smacking kiss upon her willing lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Hook, line and sinker!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a dirty shame to take him in that way."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! But it's him or us, and there ain't any use of it being us.
+We'll be on Easy Street when this deal is finished."</p>
+
+<p>They slept but lightly that night. The following morning early there
+was an executive session in Johnny's room. Slim Bolton was there,
+pessimistic as ever; Happy Gorman, melancholy but game; Connie Hawes,
+steely-eyed and emotionless.</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing to worry about," reassured Johnny. "Everything's
+chicken."</p>
+
+<p>"For you—yes."</p>
+
+<p>Helen of Troy whirled on the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"You can welch any time you want. It's Johnny's idea and Johnny's jack.
+If you ain't game to go through with it——"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, dry up, girlie! Who said anything about welching? I just wanted
+you to know that we aren't going it blind. If we didn't need the money
+so bad——"</p>
+
+<p>"If people didn't need money there wouldn't be any crooks," she said
+tartly. "Now let's check over the plan."</p>
+
+<p>They put their heads together and for the next fifteen minutes their
+earnest voices hummed steadily; five clever—if warped—brains planning
+the betterment of themselves and the discomfiture of a single, lonely,
+unwieldy detective.</p>
+
+<p>"It's rough," summarized Happy Gorman, "but it looks like a cinch."</p>
+
+<p>They separated. Slim Bolton went to a downtown garage, where he took
+out a car bought by him three days before. Slim knew more than a thing
+or two about automobiles, and for two days had been devoting his
+energies to the task of tuning this car up to the notch of perfect
+performance. He drove downtown and parked opposite the office building
+which housed the firm of Starnes &amp; Company, bankers and brokers.</p>
+
+<p>Slim took his post in the automobile at about eleven o'clock. At 11:30
+he was joined by Happy Gorman, strong of arm and melancholy of face.</p>
+
+<p>At 11:45 Connie Hawes appeared. He was dressed in a loose-fitting tweed
+suit, his coat tailored with a vent back so as to afford a maximum
+of action liberty. He nodded briefly to the two men in the car, then
+strolled around the corner and stationed himself outside a barber shop
+where he controlled a view of the building which held the Starnes
+offices. At 1:20 o'clock the figure of Johnny Norton came into view.
+He was walking up from the main business thoroughfare of the city and
+carrying a package which the men knew contained the Liberty Bonds.
+From the corner of his eye he took note of the fact that his three
+confederates were on duty. He turned into the office building and five
+minutes later was ushered into the private office of Joseph P. Starnes.
+That gentleman greeted him effusively, but it was patent, too, that Mr.
+Starnes was very much on guard.</p>
+
+<p>"You're late, Mr. Norton."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry," explained Johnny suavely. "I overslept, and I've been busy
+checking over these bonds." He produced a knife and deftly cut the
+twine which bound the bulky package. "I suppose you have the note
+prepared."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>Starnes reached for the bonds. His sharp eyes, glittering from beneath
+bushy brows, inspected them closely. There wasn't a doubt of their
+genuineness. He counted them three times. Mr. Starnes was thoroughly
+reassured. His firm was on the verge of negotiating a very profitable
+loan. They were to receive 7 per cent interest from Johnny, rediscount
+the bonds at five per cent and thus make a clear 2 per cent profit,
+plus brokerage commission, without the embarrassment of tying up any of
+their cash reserve.</p>
+
+<p>"Amount correct?" questioned Johnny crisply.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny glanced at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>"It is almost time for the bank to close, Mr. Starnes. If you'll make
+out my check for two hundred thousand and let me sign the note——I
+want to make my deposit to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Starnes reached for a memorandum pad.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to take these numbers down."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny was frigid under the strain.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a list here, Mr. Starnes. If you will just check the bonds
+themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!"</p>
+
+<p>Unsuspiciously Joseph P. Starnes checked the numbers on the bonds as
+Johnny Norton read from the list. It was considerable of a memory feat
+on Johnny's part, and he would not have been equal to it save for the
+fact that he worked with a key system. He read the numbers swiftly,
+each number that he read being the actual number on a bond which the
+banker checked off. But the numbers which Johnny called out were not
+the numbers which he had on his list.</p>
+
+<p>The hour of two was approaching. Johnny again suggested that he desired
+to make his deposit that day in the First National. Starnes sounded the
+buzzer for his bookkeeper.</p>
+
+<p>"The Norton note, please, and the check."</p>
+
+<p>They were duly produced. Starnes innocently reached for the list of
+bond numbers which Johnny had unostentatiously laid atop the bonds and
+extended the list to his bookkeeper.</p>
+
+<p>"See that these are entered up, Mr. Mathews. These are the
+thousand-dollar Liberties which we have accepted as security for the
+loan to Mr. Norton here."</p>
+
+<p>The bookkeeper departed with the incorrect list of bonds. Johnny Norton
+was grinning inwardly. He scribbled his name on the note and accepted
+the Starnes check for two hundred thousand dollars. He shook hands and
+departed. Slim Bolton and Happy Gorman saw him swing down the street en
+route to the First National. At two minutes before two o'clock Johnny
+deposited to his credit the Starnes check. Then he returned to the
+hotel—and Helen.</p>
+
+<p>She was exultant at his report of success, and immediately they set
+the stage for a new drama. From the depths of his trunk he produced
+several dozen blank checks of the Crescent National of New Orleans.
+These he placed on the writing desk beside Major Torrance's check for
+eight thousand dollars, which was also on the Crescent National. A half
+dozen pens were next laid out carefully and several bottles of ink,
+all approximately of the color used originally by the unsuspecting
+horse owner, who was at that moment a victim to <i>mal de mer</i>. Then,
+with brow furrowed, Johnny went to work. The spell of it gained upon
+him; he forgot for the moment that this was not seriously undertaken.
+His fingers, clumsy through lack of practice, labored over 8's and 0's
+similar to those made by the major.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a dog-goned shame," commented Johnny, "that I ain't really trying
+something like this."</p>
+
+<p>Helen gazed pridefully upon his handiwork.</p>
+
+<p>"Come off that, dearie! Jim'd have you in less than no time."</p>
+
+<p>"I know, I know; but I'm awfully tempted." He shoved his chair back
+from the writing desk, lighted a Turkish cigarette and walked to
+the window, where he posed for a moment, carelessly twirling his
+close-clipped mustache. "Better telephone Jim, Helen. We want this
+thing to be an alibi."</p>
+
+<p>She called the number of Jim's hotel apartment house. The switchboard
+operator there answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hanvey's apartment, please."</p>
+
+<p>There was a brief pause and then the operator's voice: "If you'll hold
+the telephone for a moment I'll connect you. Mr. Hanvey has just went
+up in the elevator."</p>
+
+<p>Helen nodded violently at her husband, signifying that Jim was at home.
+In the transmitter she fired a question: "How long has he been out?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I've just been on duty a half hour. If you wish——"</p>
+
+<p>Then came a violent buzzing, a pause and a drawling, lazy voice from
+the other end:</p>
+
+<p>"Hello! Who's this now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh?"</p>
+
+<p>"This is Helen."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Jim"—she pulled out the tremolo stop—"you promised to help me
+keep Johnny straight—you promised!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm doin' my best."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't done enough. He's working now, Jim—right now. Do you
+understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"On that paper?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure; sure I do, Helen! I ain't so thick I can't see the joke when one
+clown slaps another in the pants. What you want me to do about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come down and stop him. He'll listen to you."</p>
+
+<p>"There ain't many folks will." Brief silence and then—"I'll come. It's
+awful hot for walkin'——"</p>
+
+<p>"Take a taxi."</p>
+
+<p>Came Jim's answer, heavy with sarcasm: "Too durned expensive for an
+honest detective."</p>
+
+<p>His receiver clicked on the hook. Helen flung herself across the room
+and into her husband's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"It worked, dearie. He just came in, which means he ain't hanging
+around Starnes &amp; Company. He probably followed you when you left there,
+to get an idea if you were up to anything special. Saw you return to
+the hotel, and he went home. You've got an alibi. And now—now we'll
+let him save you from going crooked! Oh, honey, we're getting away with
+it!"</p>
+
+<p>He patted her shoulder fondly.</p>
+
+<p>"You sure are a dandy wife, Helen! Great ol' girl!"</p>
+
+<p>She bustled into the dressing room.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be on the watchout for Jim in the lobby. Remember, Johnny, if you
+act your part right he'll never suspect you of being in on this deal,
+even if something should go wrong."</p>
+
+<p>As she arranged her hat Johnny Norton glanced across the housetops in
+the general direction of the downtown business district.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, I'd give something to know what happened down yonder!"</p>
+
+<p>It was worth knowing, for there had been action a-plenty. All three of
+the waiting men had witnessed Johnny's departure from the offices of
+Starnes &amp; Company, and they saw Johnny walk to the bank via the route
+which they knew the messenger would take. The quintet had planned this
+affair to a detail. They knew, for instance, that securities of unusual
+value held by Starnes &amp; Company were daily taken to the First National
+Bank by a trustworthy messenger.</p>
+
+<p>This messenger was little more than a glorified office boy despite
+his maturity. Too, he was a creature of habit. He daily departed the
+Starnes &amp; Company suite about 2:30 o'clock, and being methodical took
+the shortest possible route to the First National. It was upon this
+habit of the messenger's that much of their scheme was based.</p>
+
+<p>There were two routes between the Starnes corner and the First
+National, located two blocks away. The obvious one was down Elm Street
+one block to Main, and thence along that cheap thoroughfare to Pelham
+Street. The other was one block north on Ashmore and thence across
+on Pelham to Main. The latter route was several steps shorter, less
+traveled, and therefore easier. It was this second route which the
+Starnes messenger was in the habit of taking.</p>
+
+<p>Almost identical in distance, the two routes were entirely dissimilar.
+Elm Street was a principal thoroughfare, something which could not be
+said of either Ashmore or Pelham. Those two blocks were lined with
+shoddy secondhand stores, groceries, markets and third-rate cafeterias.</p>
+
+<p>At thirty-three minutes after two o'clock the Starnes messenger emerged
+from the big office building and started northward on Ashmore. He
+walked with a peculiar shuffling gait, and in his right hand he
+clutched a brown-leather satchel. The moment he appeared Slim Bolton
+slipped into reverse, backed his sedan into the traffic, turned into
+Ashmore and followed. He saw Connie Hawes detach himself from the
+doorway of a barber shop and fall into step behind the decrepit and
+unsuspecting messenger.</p>
+
+<p>Slim was driving parallel to the slow-moving messenger. His car veered
+toward the curb. A trifle ahead of the man, Slim stopped his car and
+immediately slipped into second in preparation for a quick get-away.
+Happy Gorman, every inch the gentleman in appearance, opened the rear
+door of the sedan and hailed the little old man.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, stranger," he said politely, "but would you mind telling me
+which way I go to reach the best hotel?"</p>
+
+<p>The messenger paused and quite innocently moved toward the curb and the
+car. He recognized that this man must be a tourist. Connie Hawes closed
+in on him from the rear.</p>
+
+<p>"The best hotel?" repeated the messenger, pleased at having been
+questioned. "It's two blocks down that way, and then——"</p>
+
+<p>The world went black before his eyes. Connie Hawes struck as he leaped.
+The messenger pitched forward into the opened door and Connie flung him
+out of the way as he darted by and grabbed the satchel. A spectator,
+rigid with terror, emitted a shriek of horror. The messenger crumpled
+grotesquely in the gutter—stunned.</p>
+
+<p>Slim clamped down on the accelerator and sped forward. There was no
+traffic policeman on that little-used corner. Another pedestrian
+shouted, but no one knew what caused his excitement. The car whirled
+eastward on Pelham Street, turned north at the next corner and then
+rounded the block and sped southward over the viaduct. A crowd
+had collected about the figure of the stricken messenger, who was
+now struggling back to consciousness. Excitement was intense, but
+explanations given the belated policeman were incoherent. The officer
+notified headquarters that a messenger for the Starnes banking house
+had been hit on the head and robbed, but he had no clue as to the
+identity of the assailants and knew nothing of the affair save that
+the escape had been made in an automobile. And the three criminals,
+speeding across country, little appreciated the measure of their
+safety. They drove at reasonable speed for thirty miles. At the
+first little town Connie Hawes alighted, carrying the satchel. The
+car proceeded. Twelve miles farther south Happy Gorman left the car.
+Slim drove into the next town, parked his car at the curb, strolled
+nonchalantly into a drug store, where he consumed an ice-cream soda,
+and twenty minutes later boarded a New Orleans-bound train. In the
+second Pullman he saw Connie Hawes and Happy Gorman, but by no
+slightest gesture did these men indicate an acquaintanceship with one
+another.</p>
+
+<p>They knew that they were safe, but took no chances. Time enough for
+that after their trip westward from New Orleans, when they should have
+attained safety on the far side of the Mexican border.</p>
+
+<p>Events of some importance had been occurring contemporaneously in the
+city from which they had so abruptly departed. Immediately on receiving
+the telephone call from Helen of Troy, Jim Hanvey left his diminutive
+apartment. The heat had become more intense; the sun baked down from a
+sky unmarked by clouds.</p>
+
+<p>Walking, for Jim, was far from a pleasure. He rolled uncomfortably
+down the street, his tiny, fishlike eyes blinking with interminable
+slowness, fat hands flapping awkwardly against his pants legs with each
+lumbering step. He turned in at the hotel lobby and there found Helen.
+She crossed eagerly toward him, futilely searching his puttylike face
+for any indication of suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>"You understand what I wanted with you, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh, sure I understand, Helen. But it does seem to me Johnny might've
+been considerate enough to pick a cooler day to go crooked on."</p>
+
+<p>"He's working now. He's all excited, looking like he's sorry he wasted
+all this time going straight. He's a wizard with other folks' checks,
+Johnny is."</p>
+
+<p>"M'm-h'm! Clever boy. What you want me to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go up and talk to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go with you."</p>
+
+<p>"He won't get peeved at you for tipping me off?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care if he does," she returned virtuously. "I always have
+believed that honesty was the best policy—when you don't really need
+money."</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh—and when you get away with it."</p>
+
+<p>They entered Johnny's room without the formality of knocking.</p>
+
+<p>Johnny backed against the table, jaws working in true movie-villain
+fashion. His hands, groping behind his back, scraped the checks into a
+heap in a crude attempt at concealment. Helen, too, gave evidence of
+the fact that the art of the actor is not yet dead—or even ill. She
+raised pitiful eyes to her husband's face.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you'll hate me, Johnny; but I tipped Jim off."</p>
+
+<p>He simulated great rage.</p>
+
+<p>"Snitched on me, eh? Damn you——"</p>
+
+<p>"Whoa, Johnny! Easy there, son! I hate to hear ladies damn-you'd when
+I'm around."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny turned his offended attention to the detective.</p>
+
+<p>"It's none of your business——"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not, Johnny; but it most likely would have been if Helen hadn't
+telephoned me."</p>
+
+<p>"I did it for your sake, Johnny," she chimed in. "I have been very
+happy during the last six years, unhaunted by the fear of prison
+cells."</p>
+
+<p>Jim turned to her, a quizzical light in his glassy eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Who wrote them words?"</p>
+
+<p>She flushed.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know; but they're just what I feel." She threw her arms around
+Johnny's neck. "Please, dearie, for my sake, for the sake of our
+happiness, listen to Jim! We've been straight for so long. You couldn't
+get away with no forgery job now, dearie; you're all out of practice."</p>
+
+<p>Jim waddled heavily across the room and took the batch of half-written
+checks from Johnny's unresisting hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Lemme see how good you are now, kid. You used to be real clever."
+He inspected them closely. "T'chk! T'chk! They just can't come back,
+Johnny. That's awful rough work. I'd have got you in no time at all.
+Yeh, tough luck, son; but I reckon you'd be wise to run straight from
+now on. You've lost your touch, Johnny."</p>
+
+<p>An expression of genuine sorrow crossed Johnny's face.</p>
+
+<p>"On the level?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surest thing you know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well"—and Johnny sighed—"I s'pose I might as well keep on like I've
+been going. Much obliged, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>Helen's hysterical squeal of delight filled the room.</p>
+
+<p>"You promise, dearie—promise to keep straight forever and ever?"</p>
+
+<p>"Amen!"</p>
+
+<p>She turned her attention to Jim, clasped one of his hands between both
+of hers.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how to thank you, Jim. You've been wonderful, marvelous!"</p>
+
+<p>Jim blushed boyishly.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, Helen, lay offen that stuff! When a good-lookin' dame begins
+sayin' sweet things to me I ain't got no more backbone than a nickel's
+worth of ice cream."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Jim——"</p>
+
+<p>The telephone jangled.</p>
+
+<p>"That's for me," Jim announced.</p>
+
+<p>"You?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-huh! I was expectin' a call an' I told the apartment house operator
+she'd find me here."</p>
+
+<p>Helen and her husband were ill-at-ease. In a trice they had ceased
+to be sorry for the ungainly detective. There was something so
+cumbersomely positive in his manner; such a degree of assurance.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!"</p>
+
+<p>It was Hanvey at the telephone. The two others strained their ears, but
+without result. And Jim's face told them no more than they could have
+learned by watching the lee side of a cantaloupe.</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh, Jim Hanvey speaking.... Uh-huh.... You don't say so!... When?...
+Clear?... You done what I suggested?... Well, that proves you ain't the
+absolute ass I thought you was, Mr. Starnes."</p>
+
+<p>He clicked the receiver on the hook and turned away. He lighted a fresh
+cigar and jerked his head toward the telephone. "Funny thing," he
+commented disinterestedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" They spoke eagerly in chorus.</p>
+
+<p>"Messenger left the Starnes offices a few minutes ago. Coupla
+roughnecks bumped him on the bean, grabbed his satchel and made a
+get-away." If he discerned their mutual signs of relief he gave no
+indication of the fact. His voice droned on monotonously. "Old man
+Starnes is a stiff-necked idiot, but this time he was wise. He took my
+advice for once."</p>
+
+<p>"Your advice?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! Y'see, with you dumping a quarter million dollars in
+unregistered Liberties with him, there was always danger that some
+crooks might get wise to it and try to make a haul. So I suggested to
+Fat-head Starnes that he stick them securities in his own vault for a
+while instead of sendin' 'em down to the First National as he usually
+does. In view of what just happened, I think I was kinder clever—real
+awful clever." He paused apologetically. "You ain't got no objections
+to me callin' myself clever, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>They did not answer, a premonition of disaster had robbed them of
+speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Y'see, Helen, them naughty crooks might of got away with Johnny's
+Liberty Bonds. Might of, I said. But they didn't. All that was in that
+satchel was a few registered bonds which ain't worth duck soup s'far's
+negotiatin' 'em is concerned."</p>
+
+<p>Helen's face was dead white beneath her plentiful make-up.</p>
+
+<p>"Johnny's Liberty Bonds are still at Starnes &amp; Company?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh, sure!"</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't lie to me, Jim, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, Helen, you know I wouldn't! Fat men are rotten liars."</p>
+
+<p>"You suspected that the bank messenger was going to be robbed?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I had a sort of a hunch thataway."</p>
+
+<p>She turned dejectedly. It was Johnny Norton who launched the next
+question:</p>
+
+<p>"How did you get wise, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? It was easy this time. A lady tipped me off; a terrible pretty
+blond lady." Helen winced. "'Bout as much of a tip-off as I needed,
+anyway," continued Jim softly. "Y'know, Johnny, things occur awful
+funny sometimes. I happened to drift into the Starnes offices just
+after you left, and would you believe it, the list of bond numbers that
+old bird had didn't tally with the bonds at all. It was real peculiar.
+So I just suggested that they hold 'em there a while for the bookkeeper
+to enter 'em up. Y'know, a banker ought to be more careful than Starnes
+was. He never knows when he's li'ble to get gypped." He turned toward
+the door. "Yeh, Johnny, if I was you I'd stay on the safe side of
+things. You've lost your touch, son—lost it complete."</p>
+
+<p>Helen of Troy stared at her husband and he returned her gaze with one
+equally miserable. Jim Hanvey posed heavily in the doorway, the fingers
+of his right hand fiddling with his massive watch chain. He regarded
+them benignly. Then he blinked with maddening slowness.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you come to me, Helen, an' ask me to keep Johnny from goin'
+crooked?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," drawled the big man, "I only done what you asked me, didn't I?"</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CAVEAT_EMPTOR">CAVEAT EMPTOR</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Jim Hanvey lolled upon a park bench, his ample and ungainly figure
+entirely surrounded by landscape. The fingers of his right hand
+clutched the stump of a cigar which for downright meanness was in a
+class alone. His fat and florid face was wreathed in contentment and
+his fishy eyes were partially curtained by heavy lids from beneath
+which Jim stared amusedly at a group of very small children who romped
+in shrill disdain of a sign which warned all and sundry that that
+particular grass was not to be trod upon.</p>
+
+<p>The sun of early September was dropping slowly to rest behind the
+interminable line of apartment houses on the farther side of Central
+Park West. It sprinkled in golden radiance through the red leaves above
+Jim's uncovered head and mottled the rich green carpet beneath his
+enormous feet. Jim's eyes closed slowly as he luxuriously stretched his
+Gargantuan frame. Then the eyes opened to rest upon the trim figure
+of a little girl of six who stood regarding him with an expression of
+grave but frank interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Hmm!" Jim pulled himself together. "Good evening."</p>
+
+<p>The child made no answer. A spot near Jim's mid-section held her
+undivided attention. The unwieldy detective matched the child's
+gravity with his own. She was a pretty little thing whose raiment,
+even to Jim's untutored eyes, bespoke extreme affluence. At length,
+with absolute ease of manner, she moved forward and touched with her
+fore-finger, the gold toothpick which hung suspended from the heavy
+watch chain spanning Jim's ill-fitting vest.</p>
+
+<p>"That's pretty," she commented abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>Jim's face lighted with pleasure. It was seldom indeed that his pet bit
+of personal ornamentation received so genuine a compliment.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yup. Awful pretty." Then, doubtfully. "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim touched a button and a wicked and glistening point appeared. "A
+toothpick," he explained.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's—well, you see——" His face went blank. "Just a toothpick,
+that's all. Solid gold."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said the child. "I see."</p>
+
+<p>Jim felt relieved. He fancied it might be difficult to explain a solid
+gold toothpick and he thanked goodness for the youngster's erudition.
+She continued to finger the bauble approvingly but, so far as she was
+concerned, the conversation was at an end.</p>
+
+<p>The silence proved somewhat embarrassing to Jim. It was entirely too
+impersonal for his friendly nature. "What's your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pauline."</p>
+
+<p>"Pauline what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pauline Lathrop."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a pretty name, Pauline. Where do you live?"</p>
+
+<p>A touch of imitative snobbishness displayed itself in the answer of the
+little girl. "Riverside Drive. My father is a very rich man and we have
+three automobiles."</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful. Astounding. And what is your father's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Noah Lathrop. He's an emporter."</p>
+
+<p>"An emporter, eh?" Remembrance came to the detective. "Sure. Sure
+enough he is. A joolry importer, isn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yup. An' we got three automobiles."</p>
+
+<p>"That certainly is wonderful, Pauline. I'm awful glad to know about
+them automobiles. I guess your daddy's business must be awful good."</p>
+
+<p>"No," confessed the child frankly. "Father says it's gone to hell."</p>
+
+<p>Jim was a trifle nonplussed. "That's too bad. I'm real sorry to hear
+it, Pauline."</p>
+
+<p>Once again the wordless, contemplative stare of the child. "You're
+awful fat."</p>
+
+<p>"So I've heard."</p>
+
+<p>"And you look ugly," she finished. "But you ain't."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a relief. I aint no blue-ribbon entry, at that."</p>
+
+<p>"I like that gold thing," continued Pauline. "But I bet you aint got
+three automobiles."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I bet I aint."</p>
+
+<p>"My Father has, and he says——"</p>
+
+<p>"Pauline!" The voice of a woman came inquiringly through the soft air
+of a gradually gathering dusk. "Oo-oh! Pauline."</p>
+
+<p>"That's my nurse," she explained to Jim Hanvey. "She gets twenty
+dollars a week. Her name is Mary."</p>
+
+<p>Jim's eyes turned slowly toward the trim little uniformed figure which
+was bearing down upon them. Faint stirrings of recollection occurred in
+the detective's brain. The figure—the face—the voice——And now Mary
+had taken Pauline's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you not to run away from that summerhouse. I've been looking
+everywhere for you." She exhibited genuine concern—and relief. Pauline
+appeared not at all interested.</p>
+
+<p>"This man has got a gold toothpick," she announced triumphantly. "But
+he aint got three automobiles."</p>
+
+<p>The nurse turned toward the big man with a smile of quiet apology on
+her lips. Her eyes met the glassy orbs of the detective; and the smile
+congealed. The color receded from her cheeks and it was patent that she
+was struggling to recover a poise suddenly lost.</p>
+
+<p>The detective blinked with maddening slowness. "Hello Mary," he said.
+"How's Tim?"</p>
+
+<p>The trim little woman in the nurse's uniform stood rigid for a moment.
+Then she turned to the child. "Run on and play with the other children
+a few minutes," she ordered. Pauline obeyed willingly enough. The nurse
+stood regarding Hanvey apprehensively, and eventually the mammoth
+detective punctured the silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Why the disguise, Mary?"</p>
+
+<p>She spoke in tones so low as to be scarcely audible. "It isn't a
+disguise, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"No-o? Last time I seen you——"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind that," she said nervously. "I'm runnin' straight now. Lay
+off."</p>
+
+<p>"Goshamighty, Mary—I aint aiming to do nothin' else. I'm just curious."</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you everything's all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure it is. But why the job? What you doin' nursin' a kid?"</p>
+
+<p>He could discern the struggle which she was undergoing. And finally she
+seated herself beside him. "There aint a thing wrong, Jim. Honest there
+aint. I've just been workin' since they sent Tim up."</p>
+
+<p>"He's in stir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I heard somethin' about it—but the case wasn't exactly in my line as
+I remember. Gov'ment, wasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. "Smuggling."</p>
+
+<p>"Shuh!"</p>
+
+<p>"They caught him with the goods. He pleaded guilty. He's doing a
+two-year stretch in Atlanta. He left me flat—that's why I went to
+work. I got a nursing job because I naturally like kids. I had to do
+somethin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Mm!" Jim's face betrayed no particular interest. If there was doubt of
+her in his mind he did not show it. "Funny—you workin' as a nursegirl
+while Tim is doing a stretch. Well—I sure hope you stay on the
+straight an' narrow. It don't pay awful good but it's real safe."</p>
+
+<p>She sighed with relief. "I'm not pulling anything, Jim. I'm on the
+level—anyway until Timmy gets out."</p>
+
+<p>She summoned her youthful charge and they walked off together toward
+the Seventy-second street gate. Jim stared speculatively after them. He
+groped blindly for a match and relighted his cigar. Then, as he inhaled
+deeply, he gave vent to an expression of doubt——</p>
+
+<p>"Wonder what she lied to me for?"</p>
+
+<p>His somnolent eyes half closed and as he lay back in his seat there
+came to him the faint limning of the picture in which she had appeared
+at the occasion of their last meeting—a bank job in Omaha, a
+successful bank job in which he knew that she had been the brains of
+the gang. Jim held a great admiration for that little woman; she was
+courageous and she was clever; she played her cards well and she played
+them boldly. That last case had been one of his few unsuccessful ones
+and he had been more than half glad of it. He had been out to get them,
+but, failing, he felt nothing of resentment—only a keen admiration for
+the brains which had outwitted him.</p>
+
+<p>But a few minutes since he had seen Mary Lannigan flustered for the
+first time in the several years of their acquaintanceship. That
+discomfiture bespoke guilt. Hanvey's fat fingers groped for the gold
+toothpick so lately admired by Pauline Lathrop. That golden horror was
+of inestimable assistance to Hanvey in moments of mental stress. Mary
+working as a nursegirl. Hmph! There was something behind that—bound
+to be. Jim Hanvey was reputed to know intimately every worthwhile
+crook in the country and he counted Tim and Mary Lannigan as among
+his very best friends. Jim knew, for instance, that Tim had a young
+fortune salted away and that it was not at all necessary for his wife
+to work as a menial while he enjoyed the hospitality of the United
+States government. That being the case, Mary's present occupation
+was the cloak for something. He was sorry—darn shame Mary couldn't
+keep straight. Good kid. "An' dog-gone her—she's gone an' got me all
+interested."</p>
+
+<p>At first Jim determined to play hands off. He wasn't a policeman; it
+was no duty of his to make trouble for crooks who were not engaged
+in work which held his immediate attention. But there was something
+bizarre in the very thought of this excessively clever little woman
+acting as nursemaid to a snippy little girl who boasted of her father's
+trio of motor cars. Two other facts paraded before him, demanding that
+he adduce something from their proximity to one another.</p>
+
+<p>One of them was that the father of the girl whom Mary nursed was a
+jewelry importer.</p>
+
+<p>The second fact had to do with Tim Lannigan's incarceration for
+smuggling. Smuggling was not in Tim's line.</p>
+
+<p>That night Jim reluctantly omitted his regular picture show and did
+a little investigation. Information came readily to hand principally
+because Jim knew just where to turn. When he retired near midnight he
+knew considerably more about Mary Lannigan's job, but there were one or
+two blank spaces which had aroused his curiosity beyond measure.</p>
+
+<p>One vital thing he had learned—and that was that the name of Noah
+Lathrop had been mentioned more than casually in the case which
+resulted in Tim's journey to Atlanta. Just what Lathrop had to do with
+it no one could adequately explain, but there was undeniably a sinister
+significance.</p>
+
+<p>He was at the park again the following day but Mary and the child
+did not appear. The next afternoon Jim was on Riverside Drive at the
+hour he knew a nurse would naturally go walking. Pauline recognized
+him first, nor, in the eagerness with which she greeted him, did he
+lose sight of the apprehension which blanched the pretty face of Mary
+Lannigan.</p>
+
+<p>"That," proclaimed the tactful Pauline, designating Jim's gold
+toothpick, "is vulgar."</p>
+
+<p>"G'wan. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen," she explained, "do not use <i>gold</i> toothpicks."</p>
+
+<p>Jim turned quizzically to Mary. "Aint she the bright kid?" He grew
+serious then—"Come out of it, Sister. I aint gonna eat you."</p>
+
+<p>He walked with them to Central Park. In response to his unspoken
+command, Mary sent Pauline to play with the other children and she and
+Jim sat together on the bench. It was Jim who spoke first, after he had
+lighted one of his offensively fragrant cigars.</p>
+
+<p>"Get me straight, Mary—I don't want to cause you no trouble ... but
+you've got my curiosity aroused something terrible."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment she didn't answer. She sat staring at the path where her
+toe was etching aimlessly in the dust. And finally she faced him with
+a flash of her old-time spirit. "I want you to lay off, Jim. I'm not
+pulling anything crooked."</p>
+
+<p>"If you're runnin' straight I aint got no choice, have I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—you have."</p>
+
+<p>"How you make that?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can queer things for me—and," earnestly, "I don't want 'em
+queered, Jim—I don't want 'em queered."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little break in her voice which puzzled him. She was deeply
+moved—that, in itself, was a novelty. He took her hand gently between
+both of his enormous ones and patted it as a father might have done.</p>
+
+<p>"I aint tryin' to butt in on your affairs, Sister, but I'd like to get
+the low-down on this. I'll say right off—wait a minute, I'll come
+clean with you before you spill anything. You got me curious night
+before last with that straight stuff an' all. I know—an' you know I
+know—that Tim has a pile salted away which means that I didn't swallow
+your bunk about needin' the twenty-per-an'-cakes you're gettin' for
+nursin' that kid which has a father who owns three automobiles.</p>
+
+<p>"As I say, that sort of started me off an' I did a little checking up
+on my own hook. I learned, among other things, that Noah Lathrop's
+name sort of figured in the smugglin' case which sent Tim South—that
+indicatin' pretty clear that you ain't workin' in Lathrop's house for
+no reason which ought to make Lathrop comfortable. So knowin' what I
+know, if you want to loosen up—why, go right to it, Sister, an' I'll be
+all ears, like any other jackass."</p>
+
+<p>Her head was bowed and it was plain that she was thinking intensively.
+On the grass nearby the children romped, their shrillings cutting
+through the balminess of the September evening. From Central Park West
+came the clanging of Eighth Avenue cars and the occasional sirening of
+automobile traffic. A man and woman on horseback rode down the bridle
+path near them and a park policeman strolled by and ostentatiously
+looked away as he, with considerable surprise, recognized the obese
+Hanvey.</p>
+
+<p>At length she commenced speaking, her voice coming as though from a
+great distance. "It's important, Jim, first of all, that you understand
+I'm telling the truth. If there's anything I say that aint true—it
+aint because I think it aint. I'm giving you the works as I know
+'em. I'm telling you—well, first of all, because I want to get it
+off my chest. And second, because you'd get wise anyway. And third,
+because—Oh! just because.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll commence right at the beginnin', Jim. It started six months ago
+when Tim went to Europe. You know he's a real gent and every once in so
+often he works the card graft on the big steamers—not often enough for
+them to know him. Only when business is dull.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he was over there loafing around waiting for a certain party to
+sail for America again, this party being the grandest sucker which ever
+stood a couple of raises for the privilege of drawin' to an in-between
+straight. About that time Mr. Noah Lathrop was in Paris doing some
+jewelry buying. He goes over there once or twice every year. His firm
+is one of the biggest on Maiden Lane. And in Paris at the same time
+Lathrop and Tim were, was Walter Yeager."</p>
+
+<p>"Yeager?" Hanvey exhibited keen interest. "In Paris?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh. All set for a job. An' get this, Jim—I aint tryin' to get Walt
+in bad. He's had a tough enough time already. But even if Walt does run
+foul of trouble I can't help it. I'm out to do what I can for Tim ...
+that's all I'm thinking of."</p>
+
+<p>Again that little catch in her voice. Jim closed his glassy eyes
+sleepily and motioned for her to continue.</p>
+
+<p>"To hold a long story down, Walt Yeager was onto something soft in
+Paris. He pulled the job and got away with it—about three hundred and
+fifty thousand dollars worth of stones that are stones. It turned the
+Paris police inside out and stood 'em on their ear. It was as nifty a
+piece of work as you've ever heard of, an' Walt got away with it in a
+way you'd be proud of if you knew the details.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there was Walt with the jewels and nothin' to do with 'em.
+The European markets had nine eyes peeled an' Walt didn't dare bring
+'em to this country because when he came through the customs there'd
+be a stir and a talk—and flooie! So, Walt hearing that Lathrop was
+doin' his semi-annual buying, an' knowing that he wasn't more than ten
+miles above a shady transaction, went to him, confessed that he had
+stolen jewels and asked him what they'd be worth in cash, delivered at
+Lathrop's New York office.</p>
+
+<p>"Lathrop was interested, of course. It was a graft for him. He'd run no
+risk buying the stuff in New York and since his house has a first class
+rep he knew he could slip 'em on the market one by one and the trade
+would never be no wiser. They dickered around for awhile and agreed on
+one hundred and forty thousand dollars cash, F. O. B. Maiden Lane. And
+that's where Tim was pulled into the deal.</p>
+
+<p>"Walt Yeager wasn't willing to declare those jewels at the customs
+and he wasn't game to try and smuggle 'em. So he told Lathrop that in
+order to carry the deal through Lathrop must hire some one to do the
+smuggling. Yeager and Lathrop both inquired around and learned that Tim
+was over there—he bein' at that time in Bremen waiting for his sucker
+friend. He had gone there from Paris. Lathrop went to Germany, found
+Tim and offered him five thousand dollars for the job of smuggling.</p>
+
+<p>"Tim grabbed it. It seemed like a cinch. And that's where Lathrop done
+Tim dirt—because," she turned her blazing eyes on Jim Hanvey—"the
+dirty crook never told Tim that the jewels he was supposed to smuggle
+was stolen goods!"</p>
+
+<p>Jim nodded heavily. "I see.... Lathrop was dishonest. Even with Tim."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. And he played safe seven different ways. He saw to it that
+Tim and Walt Yeager engaged passage on a French liner for New York and
+he had it framed with Walt that he wasn't to say a word to Tim until
+they were pretty close to the customs when all Walt was to do was to
+turn the stuff over to Tim, watch Tim smuggle it through and then get
+it back from him and deliver it to Lathrop. Tim was to make the trip
+knowing that some one was going to slip him some jewels just before
+they got to customs. And as true as I'm telling you, Jim, he didn't
+know it was nothing more than a smuggling job. It never occurred to him
+that there might be something behind it.</p>
+
+<p>"Lathrop never even come back on the same ship with them. He sailed a
+week ahead from Southampton. Tim and Walt came over together from Havre
+and a couple days before they reached New York, Walt slipped Tim the
+stuff.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there aint any use botherin' you with details about how Tim
+tried to work it. It's enough to say that they nabbed him. Caught him
+dead to rights. Tim was sorry, but he wasn't really worried. He knew
+all he had to do was to get in touch with Lathrop on the Q. T. and a
+heap of influence would be used to get him a fine instead of a jail
+sentence and that Lathrop would pay the fine. But—" her hand went out
+and tightened grimly over Jim's flappy paw—"Lathrop welched. Welched
+like a dirty yeller dog. He said he didn't know Tim, hadn't never seen
+him before, and had nothing whatever to do with the case. Meanwhile
+Tim, feeling secure, had pleaded guilty to the smuggling charge.</p>
+
+<p>"And it wasn't until after he pleaded guilty to that, Jim—and Walt
+Yeager had disappeared—that Tim learned how bad he was in. Because the
+jewels he had admitted smuggling were the ones which had been stolen in
+Paris and they were recognized instanter. That's where Tim was crossed
+up. It wasn't that they nabbed him for smuggling—he was guilty of
+that and willing to take his medicine. But he wasn't mixed up in the
+robbery....</p>
+
+<p>"And here's the lay of the land now. Tim got two years in the Federal
+prison for smuggling. He's been there seven months. The jewels have
+been returned to Paris. Yeager has disappeared. Noah Lathrop swears he
+don't know nothing about anything crooked. And when Tim gets through
+serving his smuggling time, Jim—they're going to send him back to
+Paris to stand trial for stealing them jewels."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice trailed off. Jim blinked with maddening slowness and turned
+his apparently sightless eyes upon a pert little squirrel nearby. But
+his voice was charged with keenest sympathy——</p>
+
+<p>"They've got him dead to rights, sure enough, aint they, Mary?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," with fierce bitterness, "they have. He hasn't a leg to stand on.
+It's twenty or twenty-five years in a French prison for him. He was in
+Paris when the robbery occurred—no chance to prove an alibi. He tried
+to smuggle the stones. He was caught red-handed. He confessed to the
+smuggling. Lathrop was in the clear—what's Tim's word against his? And
+I—well, I don't mind the two years Tim is doing: he went into that
+with his eyes open ... but Jim—I'm out to save Tim from doing a twenty
+year stretch for something he never even knew about. That's what I'm
+doing, Jim. Now do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim nodded a ponderous affirmative. "I sure do, Mary. I sure do. But I
+still don't quite savvy this nurse stuff."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice came crisply now in response to the warm friendliness of the
+detective's tone. "Any man who will do what Noah Lathrop did is the
+dirtiest kind of a crook. He's poison mean and low-down and rotten. You
+never knew a first class crook who would welch like that, did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o. Not no decent crook."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither did I. And I figured out if Lathrop was that crooked—it
+wasn't the first time. He's a prominent man and he's proud. He must
+have slipped before. It's a certainty that some time in his life he's
+done something just as rotten as the trick he pulled on Tim. Oh! I
+wouldn't be kicking if he'd come clean with Tim in the first place and
+told him it was stolen stuff. It was the double-crossing and then the
+welching that hurt. And the fact that Tim is innocent. A crook has a
+hard enough life serving time for what he really does, let alone what
+he don't do.</p>
+
+<p>"That's why I worked around and got this job as nursegirl in Lathrop's
+home. I've got a room on the place, and I'm watching, Jim—I'm watching
+close. I'm learning a heap about that bird. He's rotten all the way
+through—a cheap, piking, safety-first crook. Smug and self-satisfied
+and so stuck on himself I want to kill him sometimes. Of course he
+don't dream I know Tim Lannigan or that I'm anything except what I seem.</p>
+
+<p>"And some day, Jim, I'm gonna get something on Noah Lathrop—something
+that he'd rather die than see come out. And when I do I'm gonna make
+him sing. I'm gonna make him come out in the clear and save Tim
+from doing that stretch in France." She threw her arms wide in an
+unconsciously dramatic gesture—"That's why I'm working as a nursegirl
+in his house, Jim—that's why."</p>
+
+<p>Pauline Lathrop appeared and demanded two cents with which to purchase
+an apple-on-a-stick. She accepted the money from Jim but again
+expressed her disdain for the vulgar toothpick. "And your cigars smell
+terrible."</p>
+
+<p>Jim sighed. "I reckon they do. But I like 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a funny man," said the child.</p>
+
+<p>Pauline departed joyously to purchase her confection. Jim turned
+friendly eyes upon the tiny, indomitable figure of the little woman
+by his side. He <i>tchk'd</i> once or twice and mopped his forehead with a
+lavender handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll lay off me, won't you, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Huh?"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll give me a free hand in this matter, won't you? Let me play it
+my own way?"</p>
+
+<p>He thought for a moment before replying. And then, slowly and
+deliberately he shook his head. "Nope."</p>
+
+<p>He saw her figure stiffen, watched the delicate hands ball into tiny
+fists. "Jim...." There was horror and unbelief in her tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope, Mary—I aint gonna play hands off in this little game of yours.
+Not for a minute. I can't." He, with difficulty crossed one enormous
+leg over the other. "But I tell you what I will do," he volunteered
+conversationally.</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>His voice was toneless.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll help you."</p>
+
+<p>For a second she did not move. "You—you'll help?" she choked.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure."</p>
+
+<p>"H-h-help me to clear Tim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure."</p>
+
+<p>She faced him then, her face flushed and radiant, the light of
+happiness flaming from her fine eyes. "Jim Hanvey!" she said, "I love
+you for that!"</p>
+
+<p>He fidgeted in embarrassment. "It is kinder funny—a detective workin'
+for a crook. But it's something I've always wanted to do. Of course, I
+mightn't be of any help——"</p>
+
+<p>"You will, Jim. You will. Oh! it's wonderful. I've been so alone——"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw! dry up, Sister. It's my job to nab the whole bunch of you when
+you've done something to be nabbed for. But I like you—every one of
+you—and I'm damned if I can sit back and see you go up for something
+you didn't do. Specially when you've been double-crossed by an honest
+man."</p>
+
+<p>And long after she and little Pauline had disappeared beyond the
+traffic of Central Park West, long after gray dusk had merged gently
+into velvet night, long after the shrill playcalls of children had been
+superseded by the low-toned dialogue of occasional passing couples and
+the insistent, rhythmic <i>k-chnk, k-chnk</i> of oarlocks from the adjacent
+lake—long after all of that Jim Hanvey sat upon his park bench and
+mused upon the vagaries of circumstance.</p>
+
+<p>Jim Hanvey had experienced a long, a colorful, a varied career. Now,
+for the first time, he found himself embarked upon a professional
+enterprise on behalf of a criminal, the object of his attack being
+a person in that class of society for which men such as Jim Hanvey
+served as bulwark.</p>
+
+<p>The situation was bizarre—rather outrageously so, but it held an
+irresistible appeal to Jim. He was a lonely man who counted his
+friends among those whom he professionally hunted. The better class of
+criminals knew Jim and liked him. They outwitted him if they could—but
+they played straight with him, just as he did with them. To most of
+them it was a source of wonderment that he had not long since joined
+their ranks. In answer to their frank questionings he invariably
+returned an answer astounding in its simple logic——</p>
+
+<p>"A feller is either born crooked or straight. I was born
+straight—that's all. You can't blame me for that any more than I can
+blame you for bein' crooked."</p>
+
+<p>But now he was to attain the unspoken ambition of many years: he
+was to expend his talents in an effort to free one of his criminal
+friends from an unjust charge. Let Tim Lannigan serve his time for
+smuggling—he was guilty. But Jim had checked up on Mary's story and
+knew that she had spoken the truth. That being the case it behooved
+him to see that Tim served a sentence for what he had done and was
+extricated from the predicament into which he had blundered.</p>
+
+<p>That he had undertaken a task of no mean proportions was plain to him.
+In this particular matter the position of Noah Lathrop was impregnable.
+There was no possible proof that Lathrop had connived with Walter
+Yeager to purchase the stolen gems. There was even less proof that Noah
+had hired Tim to do the smuggling. Certainly there was no chance to
+enlist the services of Walt Yeager. It wasn't Walt's fault, anyway. He
+had played fair with both Tim and Lathrop by the tenets of the criminal
+code. It was unfortunate that Lathrop had betrayed Tim—but it was too
+much to expect that Walt would do anything so absurdly quixotic as to
+confess to the robbery in order to save Lannigan. And there wasn't even
+an outside chance to convict Yeager of the original theft.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Lannigan had the correct idea. A man as crooked as Lathrop
+had shown himself to be in this instance had been crooked before.
+He would be crooked again. He had indicated that he was moulded of
+conscienceless stuff. Somewhere in his past there must be a skeleton
+which he would not care to have displayed. And in order to prevent that
+display he might even be willing to confess his guilt as a smuggling
+accessory. In that way—and in that way alone—Tim Lannigan could be
+saved from facing trial—and certain conviction—for the crime which he
+had not committed.</p>
+
+<p>Jim first of all boarded the Southern for Atlanta where he had two long
+and earnest conversations with Tim Lannigan. Tim's story verified that
+of Mary in every way. The big, handsome, red-headed crook was pitifully
+embarrassed at the knowledge that Jim was working for him. Too, he made
+no attempt to conceal his emotion at tidings of Mary's activity in his
+behalf. Jim found him bitter against Lathrop and not at all so against
+Walt Yeager. "Poor Walt! He was crossed up pretty near as bad as I was.
+And he's flat now. Gosh! To think of getting away with a job like that
+and then have a falldown. It's tough!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure is," agreed Jim.</p>
+
+<p>Acquainting himself with Noah Lathrop's personality without meeting
+that gentleman was a more difficult undertaking. He made occasion
+to be near him two or three times when Lathrop was unconscious of
+the sleepy-eyed surveillance. Jim found Lathrop a rather undersized,
+slender man of obtrusive pomposity and disagreeable manner. He spoke in
+a loud, nasal voice which carried unpleasantly a considerable distance
+and his utterances were all dogmatic. Jim found his Great-I-Am attitude
+annoying and at the same time amusing. There was a laughable similarity
+between father and daughter. Jim could well fancy the boast of the
+man——</p>
+
+<p>"I pay four thousand a year for my apartment on the Drive and I
+maintain three cars." Jim's big fingers fumbled with the gold
+toothpick. Somehow, it seemed a little less vulgar than Pauline had led
+him to believe.</p>
+
+<p>Jim held frequent conferences with Mary Lannigan. She had nothing to
+report but there was no lessening of confidence or determination. He
+was amused by her grim defiance—the indomitable will to power behind
+the masklike manners and pretty, girlish face. No wonder the smugly
+complacent Noah Lathrop was unsuspicious of the dynamite within his
+house; to all appearances Mary was merely an innoculously pretty young
+woman temporarily engaged in the nursing profession—against the day
+when she would be carried off to wife by some six-foot truck driver.</p>
+
+<p>"I know I'm right, Jim. The man's rotten all the way through—and he
+handled this affair in a way which proves that it aint the first time
+he's pulled something. Sometimes when I watch him I get mad enough to
+scream—I can imagine him chuckling to himself about his cleverness.
+Not a thought for the man who he thinks is going to do the long stretch
+in France." Her teeth clicked suddenly. "Oh! what's the use of letting
+myself get all worked up? I guess my game is to lay low and keep
+grinning."</p>
+
+<p>"You said it, Sister. And when you get something on him—talk it over
+with me. We'll make him dance a hornpipe."</p>
+
+<p>She looked up gratefully into his expressionless eyes. "You can do
+that, Jim. Until you promised to help I was only a crook without a
+chance. I didn't know what I was going to do when I found what I was
+hunting."</p>
+
+<p>Jim shrugged. "It's you who's got to do the discoverin', Mary. Just
+keep those bright eyes wide open——"</p>
+
+<p>"I sure ain't gonna do nothin' else."</p>
+
+<p>"—And let me know every least little thing that goes on. Listen in on
+his dining room conversation all you can. A feller as stuck on himself
+as that bimbo—an' as crazy about hearin' himself talk—is certain to
+blab something around the house." Jim lighted a cigar. "He may even
+have some interestin' papers lyin' around."</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said with perfect candor, "I've searched everything. Even the
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>"Good." He rose heavily to his feet. "Keep it up, Sis. We've got all
+the time in the world, plus—an' the best thing we can do is to use it.
+By the way, how's my little friend Pauline?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl made a wry face. "Ugh! Nasty little minx."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh!" grinned Jim, "think what she'll be like at forty."</p>
+
+<p>A fortnight dragged by. Jim busied himself with routine matters
+without, however, allowing the main focus of his attention to waver
+from the Lannigan matter. Occasionally he made it a point to meet Mary
+in the park. She had nothing to tell him and he talked things over
+with her only for her own sake—to keep her courage and optimism keyed
+to the proper pitch. There was something heroic in her doggedness. He
+shook his head in wonderment at the thought that until recently she had
+been playing a lone hand—just as grim, just as determined—"I sort of
+reckon," he mused, "that she sort of might be what you'd call kinder
+crazy about that Tim Lannigan."</p>
+
+<p>It was not until another week had passed that anything happened. It was
+early October and the air was chill with the portent of coming winter.
+Jim Hanvey was sprawled on the lounge in the untidy living room of his
+apartment reading the pugilistic news in a current sporting weekly.
+The air was fetid with the odor of his vile cigar, his stockinged feet
+were cocked upon the table and he had allowed his flowered suspenders
+to drop comfortably about his tremendous waist. It was a considerable
+effort to answer the summons of the telephone and his voice was none
+too gentle——</p>
+
+<p>"Hey! Hello! What you ringin' so much about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jim? This is Mary."</p>
+
+<p>His expression altered like magic. He caught the nuance of excitement
+in her carefully modulated tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Entirely."</p>
+
+<p>"Can I come up—now?"</p>
+
+<p>"You tell 'em. I'll fix it with the telephone boy so's he won't start
+no scandal."</p>
+
+<p>A half hour later she was with him. She threw open the window despite
+his protest. His eyes were fixed steadily upon the attractive vividity
+of her face. Then he yawned and appeared to sink into an indifferent
+lethargic doze. It was only when she had drawn up a chair and placed
+her hands on his arm that the sleepy eyes uncurtained with an
+indication of interest.</p>
+
+<p>"A'right, Sister—shoot."</p>
+
+<p>She found difficulty in selecting a starting point, and when she
+did eventually speak it was with an incoherence which was rather
+unusual—"He's slipping, Jim—and I'm watching."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't say."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—I do. I knew it would come ... if I just watched close enough.
+Of course I've had to keep pretty much out of the way and I haven't
+learned all that I might, but—"</p>
+
+<p>"At that," interjected Jim dryly, "you learned a heap more an' a heap
+faster than I am now."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed—a semi-hysterical little quaver—and pulled herself
+together. "Jim, Noah Lathrop is up to something."</p>
+
+<p>Jim nodded in satisfaction. "Good."</p>
+
+<p>"He's had a visitor at the house for the last two evenings. Who do you
+think it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"How many guesses do I get?"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes burned into his, her voice trembled. "Teddy Nelson!"</p>
+
+<p>Jim nodded ponderously and, although his expression lost none of its
+impassivity, his tone indicated a lively interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Teddy Nelson, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—Teddy. And they're talking turkey."</p>
+
+<p>"Teddy usually does."</p>
+
+<p>The girl sat back and inspected the bovine face of the detective. "You
+got any recent suspicions of Teddy?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim's head inclined. "Have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>Unconsciously, she lowered her tone. "He's got the Rawlings' pearls."</p>
+
+<p>Jim yawned with his eyes. "Right the first time, Sis. You take the head
+of the class."</p>
+
+<p>"You knew?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. An' I ain't the only dick which does. They've been watchin'
+Teddy ever since them pearls were stolen. The only reason they didn't
+nab him long ago was because they didn't know where he had 'em
+cache'd—it wasn't gonna do 'em a bit of good to grab Teddy unless they
+got the pearls, too."</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head slowly—"I didn't know they suspected Teddy of that
+job...."</p>
+
+<p>"There ain't but a half dozen men in the country could of done it,"
+explained Jim, "an' Teddy was the only one with a perfect alibi, so
+they knew it was him. But it ain't Teddy they're after—it's the stuff."</p>
+
+<p>"So-o ... and you think he's trying to sell 'em to Lathrop?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a cinch. He can't sell 'em nowhere's else. There ain't a fence
+would dare handle 'em and the easiest way they could be put on the
+market would be through a first class wholesale jewelry house. Yeh—I
+reckon Mr. Noah Lathrop is just about aimin' to slip his head into a
+noose."</p>
+
+<p>The girl rose to her feet and paced the room. "It's the first thing
+I've discovered ... I wish I thought he'd dare buy those things—I wish
+we could catch him with the goods."</p>
+
+<p>Jim's toneless voice came as though from another room. "You keep those
+eyes of your'n peeled, Mary. If he's gone this far with the deal the
+chances are he'll go through. An' if you can get wise to the hour when
+they pull it I'll be on hand...."</p>
+
+<p>"You think they'll do it at home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surest thing you know. A guy as keen as Lathrop ain't riskin' a deal
+like that in his office; he wouldn't even let Teddy come there if he
+knew what he was comin' for. Yeh, Sis, I reckon they'll put it through
+at home. So all you got to do is watch an' keep me posted."</p>
+
+<p>"And what will you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"My durndest—that's all I can promise."</p>
+
+<p>"That's more than enough, Jim—a heap more than enough."</p>
+
+<p>Jim flushed slightly—"Don't you go countin' on me too strong. You can
+remember at least one case where I fell down something awful an' there
+ain't no certainty I won't flop this one."</p>
+
+<p>Mary had the grace to blush. "I'm sorry about that, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah gwan! I ain't. It was a pleasure to have you put it over me. Say,
+listen—some day I want the low-down on that, Mary."</p>
+
+<p>The girl departed and then for three days he heard nothing from her. On
+the fourth day she telephoned him to meet her in Central Park.</p>
+
+<p>"Teddy was there again last night."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure enough?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—for three hours. And this morning I heard Mr. Lathrop breaking a
+dinner engagement he had for to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"So you sort of reckon maybe to-night's the night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes.... I'm pretty sure it's an attempt to sell Lathrop the Rawlings'
+pearls. I did a bit of listening last night and I heard something of
+what they were saying—about having the cash there.... I guess poor
+Teddy is glad to get them off his hands at any price."</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh—I reckon he is. They ain't nothin' now but a li'bility. Hmm!
+Reckon I better stick around this evenin'."</p>
+
+<p>They put their heads together then in an earnest discussion of details.
+And when Jim rose heavily to his feet a half hour later and waddled
+away through the trees the girl looked after him with an expression
+which would have brought a warm glow to the sentimental heart of the
+big detective had he glimpsed it. Somehow the sun seemed to shine with
+unusual friendliness that afternoon upon the slim figure of the girl
+in the nurse's uniform, and she felt suddenly very close to her big,
+handsome husband in the Atlanta prison.</p>
+
+<p>She had never quite recovered from her amazement at Jim's position in
+this case. She had always liked Jim but the idea that he might some
+day assist her—a professional criminal—in a matter involving the
+possible freeing of her criminal husband—had been beyond the realm of
+possibility.</p>
+
+<p>True, thus far Jim had done very little and that little with his
+customary modest unobtrusiveness. His chief aid had been in moral
+support, in a willingness to talk things over. What had really been
+accomplished had been the result of her own unremitting vigilance ...
+but the hour was approaching when Jim was to play a leading rôle. At
+the moment of dénouement she would have been sadly handicapped without
+him—and she knew it, for there was no possible chance of publicity
+without an airing of her own unsavory reputation.</p>
+
+<p>With Jim as an ally all was different. The very knowledge that he was
+helping her imparted a strength and a courage far beyond anything she
+had theretofore experienced. And he had promised to be watching from
+across the street that night—to be awaiting her signal.</p>
+
+<p>Darkness settled early over the Drive, a deep, cloudy darkness
+punctured by the faint twinkling of lights from the Jersey shore,
+the sparkle of apartment house windows, glaring arrows of brilliance
+from the head-lamps of speeding automobiles and lumbering busses.
+From a window in the Lathrop apartment Mary Lannigan fancied that she
+could discern the overlarge figure of Jim Hanvey bulking in the gloom
+across the way. She returned to her own little cubbyhole of a room and
+waited—waited, it seemed, for an eternity.</p>
+
+<p>And eventually there came the ringing of a telephone and Lathrop
+himself answered. She heard his voice bidding the operator to send
+the gentleman up. A few minutes later Lathrop opened the door of his
+apartment and then Mary heard footsteps in the hallway and she opened
+her door in time to see Lathrop and Teddy Nelson disappear into the
+library.</p>
+
+<p>Jaw firm and eyes steady, Mary Lannigan proceeded with meticulous care.
+Fortunately, Mrs. Lathrop was out that evening—"Gadding about like she
+always does ..." and the butler was attending to affairs of his own.
+Mary had been left in charge of the complacently sleeping Pauline. She
+crept to the door of the library and applied an ear to the keyhole.</p>
+
+<p>From inside came the wellnigh unintelligible murmur of voices.
+Occasionally one or the other of the men would become argumentative. It
+was plain that they were bargaining. Mary fancied that she could see
+the long-sought-for string of Rawlings pearls through the keyhole ...
+and once she fancied that she heard the rustle of new paper money.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that she went to a front window and, using an electric
+torch, flashed to Jim Hanvey the agreed signal. She tiptoed into
+Pauline's room and assured herself that the child was sleeping soundly.
+Then into the hallway again to resume her vigil.</p>
+
+<p>After an interminable wait there came a light tapping on the door. She
+opened it softly and admitted the mammoth detective.</p>
+
+<p>"Goshamighty," he whispered, "that boy downstairs didn't want to let me
+come up." He patted her shoulder reassuringly. "How's tricks?"</p>
+
+<p>She detailed developments in a voice barely above a whisper. He nodded
+ponderous approval. "Fine stuff. Here's where ol' sleuth gits in his
+dirty work, ain't it?"</p>
+
+<p>She designated the library door. "What'll I do, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just stick around to look after the remains—if any."</p>
+
+<p>"You're not expecting anything rough?"</p>
+
+<p>"Naw.... Teddy ain't that kind unless he's changed a lot. But I'm gonna
+stage an awful play just to see whether a feller which owns three
+automobiles can turn green."</p>
+
+<p>She led him to the door and then withdrew into the shadows of an
+adjacent room. Jim patted down the ill-fitting coat which hung so
+grotesquely around his girthful figure and rapped once upon the door.</p>
+
+<p>For a dramatic instant he stood motionless, then flung open the door
+and entered—blinking like a monster owl in the brilliant light.</p>
+
+<p>Before him was an interesting tableau. Lathrop, motionless, was bending
+across the table inspecting a string of magnificent matched oriental
+pearls. Beside him was a pile of crisp, new one-hundred dollar bills.
+His lean, rather saturnine, face, still reflected the avarice of a
+moment since although an expression of stark terror was now slowly
+robbing him of his naturally aggressive unpleasantness.</p>
+
+<p>Opposite sat Teddy Nelson—suave, dapper, perfectly at ease. Nelson's
+experienced eyes rested briefly upon the intruder and a close observer
+could have noticed the visible effort with which he pulled himself
+together. Too, it was Nelson who broke the portentous silence. That
+insouciant criminal rose to his feet, bowed with exaggerated politeness
+and spoke in a quiet conversational tone—</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hanvey—this is indeed a pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>Jim was enjoying himself thoroughly. He produced a pink silk
+handkerchief and mopped his forehead. "'Lo Teddy."</p>
+
+<p>Nelson waved a comprehensive hand toward Lathrop, the pearls and the
+money. As yet the astounded jewelry importer had not moved; he sat
+staring in bewilderment from one to the other.</p>
+
+<p>"You will notice, Jim," said Nelson, "that you have nothing on me.
+My host is in possession of the money and also of the pearls which I
+presume you are seeking."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey grinned. "You're a hard egg, Teddy."</p>
+
+<p>"You are hunting for some pearls, are you not, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"I are."</p>
+
+<p>"Well—in all probability you have them. I am willing to explain, Jim,
+that I never saw those pearls before—I'm as positive of that as I am
+that I shall never see them again." He made a rueful little grimace.
+"Business is pretty rotten these days."</p>
+
+<p>Lathrop was getting a grip on himself. He rose unsteadily and addressed
+the detective. "Who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>The suggestion of a sneer wreathed Nelson's lips. "You're a pretty
+good little staller yourself, Lathrop."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you talking about?"</p>
+
+<p>All sign of amusement departed from Teddy Nelson's face. He whirled
+furiously upon Lathrop. "You know damn good and well what I'm talking
+about. You trapped me into your apartment and brought a dick here—all
+right, so much for that. You thought you'd have me with the goods and
+you'd get the glory of having nabbed me. Why you poor fish, they've
+been after me for six months for this little job. They've laid off
+because they didn't know where the pearls were. They've got 'em
+now—but by God! they didn't catch 'em on me. They're in your hands.
+You've got the money. I'm broke. There ain't a piece of evidence
+against me. And Jim Hanvey is square. I'm asking him to make you prove
+that <i>you</i> didn't steal those jewels."</p>
+
+<p>Lathrop stammered. He stared first at Nelson, then at the lethargic
+Hanvey. "A—a detective?" he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-huh." It was Jim who answered. "A regular, honest-to-Gawd
+detective." He flashed his badge and strode over to the table. He
+inspected the pearls briefly. "It's that Rawlings' stuff, ain't it,
+Teddy?"</p>
+
+<p>Nelson shook his head. "You can't prove anything by me, Jim. Say
+listen—" he became very earnest. "Did this half-size imitation of a
+cigar clerk double-cross me?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim shook his head slowly. "No-o. Not hardly. Because when you stop
+to consider things—that would have been a bum play for him. Y'see,
+Teddy, we've been watchin' this bird a long time—he was sort of mixed
+up in that Tim Lannigan affair and we figured he was worth lookin'
+after. An' we knew you had the Rawlings' stuff. So when you and him
+got together we figured that two and two was pullin' their usual act.
+Y'see, we've got you, Teddy, for the Rawlings job—while all we send
+Lathrop to jail for is receivin' stolen goods."</p>
+
+<p>Lathrop tried to speak—and could not. His mouth opened and
+closed—then opened and closed again. His Adam's-apple bobbed
+alarmingly. His voice, when it did come, was shrill with hysteria—</p>
+
+<p>"It's a lie—a lie! I don't know anything about this man. I don't know
+anything about Lannigan. What he said I did was true—I was trying to
+prove that he stole these jewels."</p>
+
+<p>"The dirty liar...."</p>
+
+<p>"Lay off, Teddy," advised Jim. Then, to Lathrop—"You might as well
+come clear, buddy. I know how much money there is in that little pile
+and I know what bank you drew it from and at what time this morning. I
+know, too, that this ain't the first time you've pulled a stunt like
+this—but I know it's gonna be the last. Now Teddy, if you come clean
+I'll see that things are made light for you—light as I can have 'em
+made. Give me the low-down on the job."</p>
+
+<p>Nelson eyed the detective levelly. "Straight, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here's my hand on it. No promises—only the best I can do for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Nelson cleared his throat, "in that case I'd better come clean.
+There ain't no use confessing that I stole them pearls off old man
+Rawlings about a year ago. You know that an' the insurance company
+detectives know it. They knew it so well that there wasn't a chance for
+me to dispose of them through the regular channels, so when I heard
+that Lathrop was inclined to use his position as an honorable man to
+get away with an occasional dirty little job, I went to him and offered
+to sell and sell cheap—"</p>
+
+<p>"No! It isn't true...." Lathrop's face was pitiful. "Nelson, please!
+This will all be used against you."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure—sure. And it'll be used against you, too," explained Jim
+casually.</p>
+
+<p>Lathrop cowered as Nelson continued the story of their negotiations.
+When he finished Hanvey returned his attention to the figure of the
+terrified jeweler.</p>
+
+<p>"My family—my child—my business—"</p>
+
+<p>"You're a fine slice of limburger," complimented Jim. "I suppose you've
+been weeping your eyes out thinking about Tim Lannigan, haven't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lannigan?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—Lannigan, the lad you double-crossed—got him to try an' smuggle
+in stuff that he didn't know was stolen. Well, you're clear of the
+Lannigan case but we'll make you sweat for this. Ten years, maybe."</p>
+
+<p>"Please ... for God's sake—anything but that—"</p>
+
+<p>Jim regarded him steadily. "Tim Lannigan is a good friend of mine,
+Lathrop. One of the best friends I have. It just occurs to me that we
+might make a little deal.... Interested?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Yes. Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"Well—all we've been after in this Rawlings affair is the stuff.
+We don't care particularly about sending Teddy Nelson up. And since
+we've got the pearls ... how about this: You sit down there and sign
+a confession that you hired Tim Lannigan to smuggle in those jewels.
+You can say that you didn't know they were stolen—that it was simply
+a job on your part to beat the customs. That'll be proof enough that
+Tim didn't know they were stolen—and, of course, proof that he wasn't
+mixed up in the original robbery which'll keep him from serving twenty
+years or so in a French prison for something he didn't do."</p>
+
+<p>Jim paused. He fancied that he could hear the rustling of skirts in the
+hallway. Lathrop looked up pleadingly—</p>
+
+<p>"What can they do to me for that?"</p>
+
+<p>"They can give you two years in the Federal prison—same as they did
+Lannigan. But they probably won't. They did that to Lannigan because he
+was known as a professional crook. You'll most likely get off with a
+heavy fine—and it'll clear Tim of that French stuff."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you telling me the truth?"</p>
+
+<p>Teddy Nelson broke in, somewhat explosively—"Hell! Jim Hanvey ain't no
+liar."</p>
+
+<p>"You can choose," explained Jim easily, "between that and a certain
+long stretch for this Rawlings affair."</p>
+
+<p>Lathrop looked up piteously. "I'll do it," he said at length. "Tell me
+what to write."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey dictated slowly and carefully, and when he was finished he
+summoned Mary Lannigan to whom he read the confession. Then, with Mary
+as a witness, Noah Lathrop signed.</p>
+
+<p>The following day Jim accompanied Mary Lannigan to the Pennsylvania
+Station whence she departed for Atlanta to break the gladsome news to
+her husband. She was tearfully grateful—"Aw! stow it, Sister—I didn't
+do a darn thing except have a little fun...."</p>
+
+<p>From the train he went to an unpretentious hotel in the West Fifties
+where, a few moments later, he found himself alone with Teddy Nelson.</p>
+
+<p>Teddy was very much at ease. He waved his hand airily—"Have a seat,
+Jim. Make yourself comfortable." Then, defensively—"But leave that
+nickel-plated cigar case in your pocket. I don't mind talking to a
+detective but I'm not willing to smell his cigars."</p>
+
+<p>Jim ignored the request. And as the first horrid blast of cigar smoke
+assailed Teddy, Jim vouchsafed a bit of information—</p>
+
+<p>"I fixed it for you, Teddy. Saw Simpson and Clarke this morning—gave
+'em the pearls. They were so tickled it was a cinch getting them to
+promise to lay off you."</p>
+
+<p>Nelson sighed relievedly. "Great stuff, Jim. I've been hanging on to
+those things for a year—knowing that I didn't have a chance to get rid
+of 'em, and hating to heave 'em in the river. Now they're safely gone
+and I've helped a pal. Gee!" he smiled—"I'll bet Tim is gonna be happy
+when he hears the news."</p>
+
+<p>"You tell 'em, Teddy. But not near as happy as Mary was when things
+come out all right. She sure done wonders for Tim—"</p>
+
+<p>"Wonders, me eye. It was you who did it all, Jim. Wasn't it you who
+came to me in the first place and suggested that I approach Lathrop on
+this deal? Didn't you wise me up to the whole works and show me how
+it'd be a better thing for everybody—me included? Mary did her part
+all right, Jim—but the whole idea of my selling those pearls to Noah
+Lathrop was yours—any thanks that Tim Lannigan is handing out is due
+you. And I'm going to tell him so."</p>
+
+<p>Jim regarded him gravely. "You're gonna keep your mouth shut, Teddy.
+Shut tight. One yawp out of you to either Tim or Mary about that and
+by gosh! I'll turn you and Lathrop both up. Which might not be so
+hard on you, Teddy—but would be hell on Lathrop—him owning three
+automobiles."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_KNIGHTS_GAMBIT">THE KNIGHT'S GAMBIT</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Jim Hanvey posed pridefully before the triple mirrors. He hitched his
+trousers one notch higher, affectionately patted the lapels of his
+new coat and carefully adjusted the cerise necktie. Then he faced the
+covertly grinning clerk and his voice held that beatific nuance with
+which a small boy calls attention to the magnificence of his first
+baseball uniform.</p>
+
+<p>"Swell, ain't it?" queried Jim.</p>
+
+<p>The clerk, a dapper little fellow who was garbed according to the
+dictates of the latest fashion folder, was professionally enthusiastic.
+"Perfect, Sir. You never looked better in your life." Under his breath
+he added a fervent: "And that aint no lie."</p>
+
+<p>Jim delighted himself with a further survey of his mirrored self. And,
+in truth, whatever the ensemble might have lacked from an esthetic
+standpoint it more than atoned in brilliancy.</p>
+
+<p>The enormous and pudgy figure of the detective was enfolded in a
+new and ill-fitting suit of near tweeds. A pink silk shirt was
+stretched tightly over the upper portion of his anatomy. A collar of
+inconsequential height but amazing girth encased the vivid tie. Below
+the trouser cuffs was a brief expanse of white sox which topped a pair
+of peak-toed russet shoes. Above Jim's collar flopped twin chins which
+bounded on the south a countenance of bovine heaviness. The whole
+was topped by a new gray felt hat which seemed in constant danger of
+tobogganing from the crest of the bulbous head.</p>
+
+<p>Jim Hanvey's tiny, fishlike eyes held a gleam of self-approval. Then,
+as he inspected himself, they closed slowly, held shut for a moment,
+and uncurtained with even greater deliberateness. His big hands were
+elevated idly until the fingers found the elaborate golden toothpick
+which hung suspended from the heavy chain connecting the upper vest
+pockets. His chest inflated and a sigh escaped his pursy lips—"I've
+been wantin' an outfit like this for a mighty long time," he commented.
+"An' I just never sort of come around to gettin' it."</p>
+
+<p>The clerk discreetly lowered his head to scribble hieroglyphics on a
+sales pad. "Anything else, Sir?" he interrogated meekly.</p>
+
+<p>"No-o. Don't believe there is.... Oh! yes—a silk handkerchief."</p>
+
+<p>That article was purchased and Jim fitted it with meticulous care into
+the breast pocket of his coat so that the pink edging was displayed to
+weirdest advantage. "How much does it amount to, Son?"</p>
+
+<p>"Seventy-two, fifty."</p>
+
+<p>Jim whistled. "Gosh! Swell clothes sure do come high." Reluctantly
+he extracted a battered wallet. "Here y'are. I want my other clothes
+sent to the hotel." Then, with pitiful eagerness, "I couldn't look no
+better, could I?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered the clerk with perfect candor. "You surely couldn't."</p>
+
+<p>Jim Hanvey departed. He walked with the peculiarly stiff and
+self-conscious gait inevitably attendant upon the wearing of new
+clothes. His big shoes creaked with every step. His expression was
+one of radiant self-satisfaction. For years he had craved an orgy of
+new-clothes purchasing and now that the exigencies of his profession
+had furnished an adequate excuse he had done himself exceeding proud.</p>
+
+<p>He entered a suburban street car and sat stiffly in his seat
+misinterpreting the amusement of the other passengers for envy. It
+never occurred to Jim that his clothes were in shockingly bad taste
+or that his appearance was grotesque. He was a simple and lonely soul
+with the male's innate love of bright colors and flaring finery rampant
+within him, his desires untempered by the inhibitions of culture. He
+loved the flagrant and flamboyant in dress and secretly harbored an
+ambition to carry a cane. He owned two but thus far in his career they
+had remained cloistered. He had never quite mustered sufficient courage
+to drag one of them into the street. But some day....</p>
+
+<p>Forty minutes later the street car reached the end of its run and Jim
+alighted. The suburb silently proclaimed the opulence of its residents.
+Wide, tree-shaded streets bounded by broad, velvety lawns behind which
+hugely handsome residences reared their architecturally perfect forms;
+gardens which paid flowering tribute to landscape experts; sinuously
+winding driveways, spurting fountains, cleanly clipped hedges. An
+atmosphere of forbidding and exclusive wealth. Parked by the curbs were
+limousines of the more expensive makes. Early that morning Jim Hanvey
+would have felt ill-at-ease in the neighborhood. Now, resplendent in
+his new regalia, he believed serenely that he fitted comfortably into
+the picture. His manner was that of the man who belongs. He regretted
+that he had not bought a cane: a heavy, gold-headed cane. Or, perhaps,
+a man of his mammoth physical proportions would better carry a malacca
+stick—one of the slender, whippy ones....</p>
+
+<p>He sought information from a disdainful chauffeur as to which of these
+estates was the property of Mr. Theodore Weston. But even with the
+confidence begotten of his magnificent raiment he hesitated briefly
+before turning up the walkway which led from the street to the massive
+brownstone mansion nestling far back behind a screen of elms, poplars
+and shrubbery. There was something about the Weston estate which seemed
+to elevate it above even its formidable neighbors; a mute announcement
+of conscious superiority; a formal indifference; an air of casualness
+such as that affected by the young girl who spends an hour before her
+mirror carefully arranging her hair in the most attractive way. Jim
+experienced difficulty in conceiving this palatial place as a home.
+It wasn't at all Jim's idea of what a home should be. His own tastes
+inclined to a six-room bungalow set level with the street and perhaps
+twenty feet back from the sidewalk where a chap could loll of an
+evening in his shirt sleeves and suspenders with his feet cocked up on
+the porch railing and the potted geraniums only slightly obstructing
+his vision.</p>
+
+<p>He moved stiffly up the elm-sentinelled walkway to the broad and
+imposing veranda which spanned the palace of the industrial king,
+meticulously scraped a bit of mud from his new shoes, tiptoed to the
+front door and somewhat timorously pressed the button. Like magic the
+door swung back and a butler appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Weston home?"</p>
+
+<p>The butler's forehead corrugated slightly. His face lost some of the
+fixed rigidity of expression natural to it. He surveyed the visitor
+with an admixture of bewilderment and insolence.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>Jim fidgeted nervously. The butler maintained an uncompromising
+silence—which Jim eventually terminated.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him Jim Hanvey wants to see him."</p>
+
+<p>"Hmm! Your card, please."</p>
+
+<p>Jim fumbled wildly. "Gosh! I left my card in my other suit." He jerked
+his thumb in apologetic explanation. "Just tell him it's Jim Hanvey and
+everything'll be jake."</p>
+
+<p>The butler disappeared in the cavernous recesses of the mansion leaving
+the monster detective thoroughly ill-at-ease. In a few moments he
+returned, expression slightly altered. "Right this way, Sir."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey followed. Their feet were soundless on the rich rugs. Jim was
+left alone in the dim, lavishly comfortable confines of the library. He
+seated himself on the lounge, hitched up his trousers at the knees to
+preserve the crease, and waited.</p>
+
+<p>Less than five minutes later Weston appeared. He was a thin, undersized
+man with a peculiarly high forehead and deep cavernous eyes. His step
+was mincing but his manner betokened a wealth of nervous energy. He
+paused on the threshold and stared with ill-concealed amazement at the
+unwieldy figure which rose from the lounge to greet him.</p>
+
+<p>It was a case of mutual surprise. Jim Hanvey had been prepared to meet
+a towering, aggressive, physically powerful individual—a man whose
+physique was in consonance with his reputation in the industrial world.
+For Jim knew that Weston was all-powerful: fair but ruthless, a hard
+fighter and a game one. The little man in the doorway was rather of the
+lounge-lizard type....</p>
+
+<p>As for Weston he could not believe that this mammoth individual who
+bulked before him was the person who had been recommended as the best
+detective in the country. Jim was not at all of the detective type. His
+new raiment accentuated the flabbiness of the form, intensified the
+general impression of lethargic indifference and general unfitness.
+And so the two men stared, each struggling to readjust in a moment his
+preconceived idea of the other. It was the financier who spoke first,
+his voice snapping with a peculiar steely timbre not at all in accord
+with his diminutive size.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hanvey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh.... Mr. Weston?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am Mr. Weston."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Theodore Weston?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Gosh...." Jim paused suddenly. Weston stared intently.</p>
+
+<p>"Say it," he prompted.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a runt," proferred Jim. "I thought I was gonna meet a big
+feller."</p>
+
+<p>"And you," countered Weston, "look more like a side-show freak than a
+detective."</p>
+
+<p>"You said it. I never was awful strong on looks an' my figger never
+caused me to be mistook for no sylph."</p>
+
+<p>They stood facing one another in the subdued light of the library. Jim
+covertly straightened his tie and patted his new coat. Jim was very
+well pleased with himself. He wondered whether this man had noticed his
+new suit—</p>
+
+<p>"Nice suit of clothes you've got on, Mr. Weston."</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" The smaller man was startled. "Oh! Thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"You're welcome." Jim hesitated. "I'm awful strong for swell clothes,
+aint you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't notice them much."</p>
+
+<p>Jim sighed disappointedly. "Thought not...."</p>
+
+<p>Weston motioned his visitor to a chair. He extracted from his desk a
+humidor of fragrant Havana cigars, and as he was doing so, Jim reached
+for a battered, near-silver cigar case which reposed in the inside
+pocket of his coat. Each extended his to the other. Jim's were short
+and fat and very, very black. Weston took one from the case and Jim
+accepted one from his host. Each sniffed at his gift, each made a
+poorly concealed wry face and each placed the cigar carefully beside
+him with the remark—"Smoke it later." Then each man lighted one of
+his own. As the fierce aroma of Jim's projectile assailed Weston's
+nostrils, the little man winced. But Jim did not notice. He was
+inexpressibly content with the strong fumes he generated. And so they
+smoked on as they chatted idly. Weston finally caused the conversation
+to veer to the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been recommended to me, Mr. Hanvey, as the one man capable of
+helping me out of a dilemma. I cannot question the judgment of the men
+who have bespoken you."</p>
+
+<p>"Fine. That's awful nice of you, Mr. Weston."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll admit—" honestly "—that I am somewhat surprised by your
+appearance. This is a matter which requires infinite tact and delicacy.
+It's not—er—what you might call strong-arm work."</p>
+
+<p>"That's good," endorsed the detective. "I'm in awful poor trim."</p>
+
+<p>"It is, in fact, a problem such as detectives seldom meet with; an
+affair of diplomacy. It involves no particular moral turpitude. Yet
+the intervention and assistance of friends cannot aid me at all—which
+is why I have sought outside—and professional—help."</p>
+
+<p>"In other words," summarized Jim slowly, "somebody's tryin' to slip
+somethin' over on you."</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely. Not in a business way. That would be relatively easy
+to cope with. In entrusting you with this story I must impress
+upon you the necessity for strictest secrecy. My confidence must
+remain inviolate. As a matter of fact, I find myself excessively
+embarrassed.... I—I—scarcely know where to begin."</p>
+
+<p>"Hmm! An' you're doubtful about beginnin' at all, aint you, Mr. Weston?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Not exactly. With the endorsement you have received from business
+associates of mine...."</p>
+
+<p>"You still think I look like such a slob I aint the man to show no
+finesse. Aint that it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You state it rather crudely, Mr. Hanvey, but you have hit the
+bull's-eye."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Jim slumped in his chair. His eyes closed with maddening
+slowness—remained shut for a second—then opened even more slowly....
+"I'm willin' to do my best to help you out. But if you want me to enter
+a beauty contest, I guess we'd better call it off."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't that, Mr. Hanvey. You see, the primary essential is that you
+come here as my guest for two or three weeks."</p>
+
+<p>"In this house? Gosh!"</p>
+
+<p>"That will be necessary."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey deliberated. Once again he gave vent to the ocular yawn which
+interested—and somewhat exasperated—his host. "I reckon I'll have to
+put up with it then," he sighed.</p>
+
+<p>Weston smiled slightly. "I don't believe it will be as terrible as you
+anticipate. The—er—reimbursement in this affair, Mr. Hanvey, will be
+adequate. More than adequate, should you happen to be successful."</p>
+
+<p>Jim waved a pudgy hand. "Never mind that. I'll take a chance if you
+will."</p>
+
+<p>Again silence settled between them. Weston sat forward in his chair
+with his keen eyes glittering across the room. Finally he rose abruptly
+and stepped mincingly across the library to the window. Jim remained
+slouched on the lounge, apparently asleep. A miasma of rancid smoke
+hovered about his Brobdingnagian figure.</p>
+
+<p>The descending sun of early evening bathed the dapper figure of the
+little industrial giant in a soft, mellow light. He stood by the window
+staring out—at something—silent, intense, a bit morose. And finally
+he spoke without turning his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Hanvey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come here."</p>
+
+<p>Jim rose with a grunt and waddled across the room. His enormous bulk
+completely shadowed that of the smaller man. And now there had come a
+slight change in the atmosphere. Weston's use of Jim's last name and a
+sudden pathetic drooping of the narrow shoulders bespoke the fact that
+he had reconciled himself to his disappointment in Jim's appearance
+and was willing to place his trust in the big detective. He spoke in a
+sharp but toneless voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Look yonder," he directed, pointing down the winding, poplar-lined
+bridle path which twisted toward the house from a rich green valley
+beyond.</p>
+
+<p>Jim blinked slowly—and looked. His first impression was one of
+enthusiasm for the pastoral beauty of the scene: a gradual blending of
+formal gardening into the rich lusciousness of untrammelled nature; a
+gentle tinting of the gold of early evening; the silver of a brook in
+the valley below ... a wealth of color and of natural beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Then his fishlike eyes discerned two persons on horseback, a man
+and a woman, who were walking their mounts slowly toward the house.
+They rode close together and they were conversing with an absorption
+which made plain that the outside world did not exist for them. The
+girl had half-turned in her saddle in order that her eyes might feast
+unrestrainedly upon the man; while he, conscious of his power, was
+injecting the full wealth of an engaging personality into the task of
+holding her undivided attention.</p>
+
+<p>They approached slowly, the mounts scarce moving, and as they came
+closer something in the magnificent stature and military carriage of
+the man stirred memory in the mind of the obese detective. But before
+recognition came to him his attention was once more attracted to the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>She was young—that much was evident even at the distance separating
+her from Jim. There was something about the slim, boyish figure;
+the artless eagerness with which she hung upon the words of her
+companion, which proclaimed extreme youth. And, too, the way she sat
+her horse—carelessly, easily, as though she belonged. The girl wore
+no hat, her rich brown hair was piled carelessly atop the exquisitely
+shaped head. Her left hand held the rein loosely, her right hung by her
+side. It held a riding crop which she twiddled aimlessly. Up through
+the poplar-lined bridle path they came ... the shadows spotting the
+roadway like the stippling of a pen-and-ink artist.</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter," said Weston simply and without turning. There was
+affection in his voice—and worry—and abounding pride. Jim responded
+to the tone with all the sincerity of his emotionful nature.</p>
+
+<p>"Swell-lookin' kid," was his comment.</p>
+
+<p>He turned his attention to the man, now limned in the glow of the late
+evening sun. He was a perfect foil for the girl; a figure of powerful,
+dominant masculine maturity offsetting her naïve girlishness. He wore
+an immaculate riding costume. He rode like a Centaur, swaying to the
+stride of his horse ... oblivious to everything save the girl by his
+side. He was talking, head inclined toward her. And then Jim recognized
+the man and he emitted a slow, amazed whistle. Theodore Weston turned.</p>
+
+<p>"You know him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim favored the man with a prolonged scrutiny. It was scarcely
+possible ... but there was certitude in the tone with which he made
+answer to his host's question.</p>
+
+<p>"That's Whitey Kirk."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Whitey Kirk?"</p>
+
+<p>"The cleverest con man in the world," was the answer, and there was a
+ring of professional admiration in his voice. "I didn't know he was a
+friend of yours—"</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't."</p>
+
+<p>"There ain't anything to be ashamed of if he is. Y'know I'm awful
+strong for Whitey—Warren is his real name—because of the fact that
+he is so good. For ten years that baby has been pullin' jobs, big
+jobs, wide-open jobs—and they've never fastened a thing on him. He's
+a wizard, that's what. He's tackled everything from stock swindling to
+smuggling and he's gotten away with it. I can't help liking a man with
+his brains and ability. And nerve—Oh! Mamma!"</p>
+
+<p>Weston walked heavily back to the table of black walnut which occupied
+the middle of the library. Jim followed slowly, and then, seeing that
+the attention of his host was not upon him, deftly exchanged the two
+cigars which lay upon the desk—so that his own vicious black one was
+once more in his possession. "Fair exchange," he told himself, "ain't
+always robbery."</p>
+
+<p>Absently Weston reached for the rich Havana which had thus been
+returned to him, lighted it, and puffed meditatively for a few moments.
+Hanvey slouched opposite in an easy chair, allowed his fat fingers to
+toy idly with the golden toothpick which hung from his cable-strength
+watch chain. He contemplated the little man, wondering what was coming,
+and, without knowing why, feeling a sense of sorrow and of personal
+responsibility.</p>
+
+<p>"That," said Weston suddenly, waving toward the window which they had
+just vacated, "is why I sent for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh?"</p>
+
+<p>Silence. From outside came the crunch-crunch of horses' hoofs on the
+gravel driveway, the sound of a man's voice—and a girl's—then nothing
+save the soft sighing of the evening breeze through the trees which
+surrounded the stately home. It was Theodore Weston who punctured the
+silence—</p>
+
+<p>"What is this man's criminal record?"</p>
+
+<p>"He ain't got none. We know he's crooked, we even know most of what
+he's done. But we ain't ever been able to get the goods on him."</p>
+
+<p>"He's never been arrested?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nary time."</p>
+
+<p>"That will make it more difficult—very much more difficult. Perhaps
+too much so." He was silent for a moment, and then—with a sudden
+intensity which surprised Jim: "The man is a criminal, Mr. Hanvey. It
+shall be your task to prove it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hmm!" Jim's glassy orbs closed—then opened—with exasperating
+leisureliness. "Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because—" and Jim liked the directness of Weston's speech, "that man
+is engaged to marry my daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee!" commented Jim Hanvey. "That's tough."</p>
+
+<p>"It is worse than that—it is horrible. She is not quite eighteen years
+of age. He is—Oh! about forty I judge—"</p>
+
+<p>"Forty-one."</p>
+
+<p>"They met at Ormond Beach last year. We have a winter place there.
+My daughter is a golf enthusiast. This man, it seems, was down there
+playing golf—peculiar pastime for a criminal—"</p>
+
+<p>"Whitey's a gent."</p>
+
+<p>"Madge was injured one day on the links—struck by a golf ball on
+number ten fairway. She was stunned. Number ten is farthest removed
+from the clubhouse. This man Kirk was playing right behind her. He is
+a powerful fellow and he carried her to the clubhouse in his arms.
+From there she was taken home in a car which he provided. I thanked
+him and he introduced himself. It never occurred to me that he was
+not a gentleman. He told me he was a graduate of one of the large
+universities—"</p>
+
+<p>"He is."</p>
+
+<p>"—And we were all emotionally grateful at the time. We magnified
+the very simple favor which he had done for us. Certainly it never
+occurred to us to scrutinize too closely the very natural friendship
+which rapidly developed between him and my daughter. We didn't take
+it seriously—somehow a parent finds difficulty in appreciating the
+maturity of his own child.</p>
+
+<p>"We all liked him. His natural gentility was the only credential we
+asked. He and Madge were together everywhere: he appeared to be a
+man of means, culture and leisure. We fancied that he had a paternal
+interest in her. They golfed together, played tennis, swam, rode—a
+very delightful winter idyll. And the day Madge told her mother and
+me that she was engaged to marry this man—well, Mr. Hanvey, unless
+you're a father—and have received a shock through your child—a shock
+involving the happiness of that child—you cannot understand."</p>
+
+<p>Jim fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. The voice of his host rang
+with fierce bitterness.... "You sure are up against it, Weston."</p>
+
+<p>"I investigated him, suddenly realizing that Mrs. Weston and I had been
+criminally negligent. I was amazed by the fact that I knew nothing
+whatever of him save that he bore all the earmarks of a gentleman.
+He vouchsafed no personal information. I brought the family back
+north—and investigated further. The thing was horrible enough as
+it was—a seventeen-year-old-girl engaged to a man of forty. She
+wouldn't listen to reason.... I tried to be tactful in my handling of
+the situation. You see," simply, "I am worth a great many millions of
+dollars and it was only natural that I should be careful ... marrying
+for money, you know—"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh—sure. I know."</p>
+
+<p>"As though the situation itself were not sufficiently bad, came the
+report that the man is a notorious criminal. I told Madge and she went
+straight to him with it. He laughed—said he had bitter enemies who
+were trying to injure him. Defied them to prove that he had ever been
+crooked. Suggested that they produce a prison record. Of course it
+couldn't be done. You can imagine the effect on an impressionable young
+girl—in love for the first time. She fancied him a persecuted man—she
+said flatly that she didn't believe a word of it and intended to stand
+by him...."</p>
+
+<p>"Good sport," breathed Jim heavily.</p>
+
+<p>"She is. Too good. I talked to him—straight from the shoulder.
+He gazed at me blandly and said that my accusations were false. I
+offered him his own price. He didn't even have the grace to get
+insulted—merely stated that he didn't have a price. Alleged that
+he was genuinely in love with Madge. I threatened him. He laughed.
+I ordered him never to see her again. He told me coldly that if I
+persisted in any such foolish course he'd induce her to elope with him.
+And finally, because it seemed the wisest thing to do, Mrs. Weston and
+I sanctioned a secret engagement, hoping against hope that the true
+nature of the beast would show—and Madge would be awakened.</p>
+
+<p>"It hasn't worked, Hanvey. She is more infatuated than ever. That's why
+you were recommended to me. They told me that you were the one person
+who might be of real assistance."</p>
+
+<p>Jim leaned forward in his chair. "Me? How can I help?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have been told that you know crooks better than any other man in the
+world. That you can work miracles with them—because you understand
+them. I ask you pointblank, Jim Hanvey—will you undertake the task of
+saving my daughter from this man?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim lighted a fresh cigar. Through the haze of rancid smoke he stared
+at the little financier. "I'll undertake it on one condition," he said
+slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"And that is—?"</p>
+
+<p>"—That I be allowed a free hand. Absolutely."</p>
+
+<p>"Done!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good. Remember, Weston, I'm liable to pull a bone—the chances
+are that I'll flunk it. Whitey Kirk is the cleverest crook on two
+continents. He's in soft here—awful soft. He ain't gonna let go easy.
+But if you're willin' for me to try—I'll try. If I flop—it won't be
+because I haven't done my damnedest."</p>
+
+<p>The smaller man rose, crossed the room and dropped a hand on Jim's fat
+shoulders. "You won't fail, Hanvey."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because," replied the other, "it means too much to Madge. If you're
+what they say you are—you'll put it over."</p>
+
+<p>Jim rose awkwardly. "I'll do my best. I'll have to stick around
+here for a week or two." He looked down upon his new and shrieking
+raiment—"Thank goodness I already bought a new suit. I'd hate to look
+like a bum in a swell joint like this."</p>
+
+<p>Twenty minutes later Jim Hanvey departed for the city in one of
+Weston's limousines. He lolled against the rich upholstery enjoying to
+the ultimate the luxury and uniqueness of the experience. At his modest
+and untidy apartment he swiftly packed a near-leather suitcase with
+those articles which he fancied would be essential to his new rôle of
+society butterfly. He left the apartment, entered the limousine for the
+return trip—then suddenly halted the chauffeur—"Just a minute, Buddy.
+I forgot something."</p>
+
+<p>He re-entered the building. When he returned to the car a few minutes
+later he nervously clasped the thing which he had forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>It was his light malacca cane.</p>
+
+<p>He reached the Weston home shortly before the dinner hour and was shown
+to his rooms; a bedroom, parlor and bath suite on the west wing of the
+mansion. He gazed apprehensively about and experienced more than a hint
+of trepidation. A valet arrived to inquire whether he might assist Mr.
+Hanvey to dress for dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"My Gawd, no!" roared Jim. "You'd make me feel downright bashful."</p>
+
+<p>In the living room he was introduced to Mrs. Weston, a sweet-faced and
+surprisingly young woman considerably larger than her husband. Mrs.
+Weston pressed Jim's hands as she wished him well. "Theodore says
+you'll succeed, Mr. Hanvey ... he says he knows you will."</p>
+
+<p>"He's an awful wise guy."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know what it means to us."</p>
+
+<p>"The heck I don't. Believe me, Mis' Weston—I know a heap about this.
+An' say—if it ain't impolite to ask—how long is it before we eat?"</p>
+
+<p>It was in the library immediately preceding dinner that the detective
+met Whitey Kirk. That gentleman, tall and broad and handsomely
+debonaire in his dinner jacket, strolled into the room puffing on a
+cigarette. He paused and stared through the semi-gloom toward the large
+and strange figure in the outrageous clothes. The figure moved forward
+and, as though from a distance, Whitey heard the voice of his future
+father-in-law—"... my friend Mr. Hanvey. Mr. Kirk...."</p>
+
+<p>Then Jim's limp hand and the well-known voice—"Sure, me an' Whitey
+Kirk is old friends, ain't we, Whitey?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know one another?" Weston's simulation was very poor indeed.</p>
+
+<p>"I've had the pleasure of Mr. Hanvey's acquaintance for a number of
+years."</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh—sure he has, Mr. Weston. We've had business dealin's with one
+another—as you might say."</p>
+
+<p>Kirk had regained his impassivity and by no slightest gesture did he
+give testimony to the internal seethe nor the swift groping of his keen
+brain for the answer to this new problem. The presence of Jim Hanvey
+betokened trouble—great gobs of it—and trouble was the one thing
+which Whitey Kirk was at that moment most desirous of avoiding. He
+negotiated Jim into the glare of an electrolier while he himself stood
+in the shadows, but he gained no information from the bovine expression
+of the triple-chinned detective. Jim sat stolidly, lids curtaining his
+expressionless, fishy orbs, fingers twiddling the golden toothpick.
+Theodore Weston gazed interestedly from one to the other. He felt a
+queer confidence in the ability of the ungainly detective, and didn't
+understand the feeling. Jim was the apparent personification of the
+ultimate in human stupidity, but Weston's keen, sparkling eyes had not
+missed the flash of apprehension which had whitened Kirk's face at the
+moment of recognition.</p>
+
+<p>And then Madge Weston burst into the room—billowed through the door
+like a stray zephyr. She called gay greetings and then, girllike, made
+directly toward Warren Kirk—pausing abruptly at sight of the stranger.
+She accepted her father's introduction matter-of-factly and immediately
+set about the task of making the stranger feel at home. It was plain to
+her that he was out of the picture—a veritable china-shop bull—and
+she was more than a little sorry for him. Jim responded eagerly to her
+advances, and the warmth of his response grew more keen when he noticed
+that Kirk was highly displeased.</p>
+
+<p>Here was the sort of girl who made an irresistible appeal to
+Jim—pretty in a fresh, wholesome, sensible and entirely immature way;
+eager, unspoiled, urgent with life and vitality; far, far removed
+from the genus flapper—all of whom were anathema to Jim. Flappers
+frightened the big fellow. They had a manner which he could not
+fathom, their quick vapid repartee passed over his head, he held the
+consciousness that he was the butt of their covert ridicule. But not
+with Madge. She was herself wholesome and delightful and girlish. By
+the time they entered the dining room Madge and the big detective were
+the best of friends.</p>
+
+<p>The dinner commenced as an ordeal for Jim until he realized that he
+could never solve the fork riddle and devoted his entire attention
+to enjoyment of the rich and rare food. Mrs. Weston smiled toward
+her husband—she had the soul of the true hostess, the hostess who
+enjoys the enjoyment of her guest. True, Madge was a trifle shocked
+by his lack of table manners, but that was soon borne with—and then
+forgotten. He <i>was</i> having such a good time!</p>
+
+<p>Alone, following the dinner, the three men were silent. Warren Kirk was
+decidedly ill-at-ease. Finally he rose: "Mighty fine night, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beautiful night—outside."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't so worse inside."</p>
+
+<p>"Want to stroll round the grounds?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean you want to have a talk with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly—"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure." Jim, with difficulty, hoisted himself from the chair. "But
+remember I'm a rotten walker, Whitey."</p>
+
+<p>A shade of annoyance flashed across the man's face. "My name is Warren."</p>
+
+<p>"A'right, Warren. Le's travel."</p>
+
+<p>They descended from the spacious veranda to the moon-drenched garden.
+The night air was soft and warm and saturated with the odor of lilacs.
+From far off came the tinkle of a piano and the sensuous strains of a
+violin—and in the street somewhere children were playing and calling
+gleefully to one another. Everywhere quietude and beauty and peace.
+Side by side the two men walked: Jim's big figure waddling on short,
+fat legs; Whitey's broad shoulders thrown far back, his firm, muscular
+limbs moving with easy rhythm. And it was the taller man who broke the
+silence. He spoke without turning and his voice was frigid and direct.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the big idea, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hmm! Just visitin' my ol' college chump who I ain't seen since we
+graduated from Harvard together."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's cut out the kidding. What are you here for?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim's voice was mildly reproving. "Don't you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can guess."</p>
+
+<p>"A'right. You got my permission. One guess ought to be enough. If you
+miss I'll give you another."</p>
+
+<p>"You're here—" Whitey's icy voice came slowly, his words
+close-clipped—"to break up my romance."</p>
+
+<p>"Your what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Romance."</p>
+
+<p>"With that kid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—with that kid."</p>
+
+<p>Jim's heavy head rolled in earnest negation. "Naw, son—you're all
+wrong. I ain't here to bust up no romance."</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me, Jim Hanvey—you've got a reputation for telling the
+truth—"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm telling it now. I ain't here to bust up no romance, Whitey. I'm
+here to keep you from gettin' away with whatever graft you're planning."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not planning anything except to marry this girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Well—that's a pretty good graft, ain't it? Good lookin'
+kid—young—heiress to about twenty million bucks. Mmm! I'd call it a
+real swell graft."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm in love with her—"</p>
+
+<p>A harsh note crept into the detective's voice. "That's a lie, Whitey,
+and you know it. If you was you'd clear out. You know you can't bring
+her nothin' but misery. Now what I want to find out is this—are you
+plannin' to go through with this deal an' marry her, or have you got a
+price?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no price."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't be bought off?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that makes my job harder. I thought maybe you was lookin' for a
+soft spot and didn't want to queer things by bargaining with the old
+man. It'd be worth a heap to him to get rid of you. Not that you ain't
+a good crook, Whitey—an' in a professional way I ain't got nothin'
+but respect an' admiration for you. But as a gent, Whitey, you ain't
+worth a damn."</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments neither spoke. It was Kirk who broke the silence.
+"You must know already that you can't queer me with the kid."</p>
+
+<p>"Does look like a tough assignment."</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't anything you can do."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes there is."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, for one thing, I can make it downright embarrassin' for you—so
+durned embarrassin' that maybe you'll decide you'd better break it off
+with the girl and begin to talk dollars and cents."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"No?" A pause, and then—"I'm glad you think so, Whitey. But lookin'
+over that young lady kinder careful it strikes me that if she was ever
+convinced you was a crook she'd give you the go-bye so fast you'd think
+you was a popboy at an automobile racetrack. Yep—that gal sure never
+would stand for no crooks payin' her rent—not if I've got her right."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps not," admitted the other, "but you can't hang a thing on me.
+You know I'm a crook and I know it. But nobody has ever gotten a thing
+on me. Not a thing. In ten years I haven't slipped once—not a single
+time."</p>
+
+<p>Jim gazed at him keenly: "That's what you think," he said with peculiar
+emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>They returned to the house; Hanvey expressionless as ever, Kirk
+struggling to conceal the worry inspired by Jim's air of confidence.
+Whitey knew that he had never slipped in his decade of criminality—he
+knew but he wasn't sure. Perhaps, somewhere in that period, there had
+been an error of judgment, a weakness which he did not suspect. He
+knew the axiom of the criminal world—a detective may make a thousand
+mistakes and yet be successful; a criminal cannot err once. Warren Kirk
+realized that he was only human—and therefore fallible. And if Jim
+knew something and could prove it....</p>
+
+<p>Later in the evening Kirk persuaded Madge to accompany him to the
+veranda. Scarcely had they left the room when Jim fired a question at
+her parents—</p>
+
+<p>"Knowing what you do about this guy, why'd you agree to their
+engagement?"</p>
+
+<p>"Madge is headstrong," was the simple answer. "We thought it best to
+appear to consent."</p>
+
+<p>"Mmm!" Jim nodded slowly. "It sure is a pleasure to work with folks
+which uses their heads for somethin' more than havin' a picture taken
+of."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, on the veranda, Whitey Kirk was talking with low-voiced
+earnestness to the girl. "It's this way, Madge—Hanvey is a detective
+and a good one. He is one of the leaders of the police clique which
+for years has been attempting to hang something on me. Your father has
+fallen under their influence. He has hinted to you that my past is not
+all it might have been. He has hired Jim Hanvey to come down here and
+prove to you that I am crooked." He bent his handsome head close to
+her wide-open, frightened eyes. "I believe I am a gentleman, little
+girl. I want you to promise that the minute you lose your trust in me
+you will let me know—and I shall leave you. But if you're willing to
+stand by me...." With a little sob she seized his hand and pressed it
+tightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk that way, Warren. <i>Don't!</i> I can't bear the thought that
+anyone even thinks you are not all right. And don't suggest that I
+won't stand by you. I love you, dear...."</p>
+
+<p>He took her in his arms then and kissed her, and even as he did
+so there was a coldly calculating light in his gray eyes. He was
+playing this game for big stakes. It was the chance of a lifetime—an
+opportunity to insure affluence with safety. And Madge was a pretty
+good sort. He wasn't in love with her, of course, but on the other
+hand he might do worse in the selection of a life partner. Nice, clean
+kid—and sensible.... "Gee! it'd sure bust things higher than a kite if
+Jim could ever prove to her...."</p>
+
+<p>And so after the silence of midnight had fallen over the house, Whitey
+Kirk sat staring from the window of his room. Beside him was an ash
+tray filled with cigarette stumps.</p>
+
+<p>Jim had him worried. Whitey knew—none better—the ability of the
+ponderous detective, knew that he would not be absolutely safe until
+he was actually married to the girl. It wasn't that Jim had discovered
+proof of any past transgression so much as there was danger that Jim
+might frame him.</p>
+
+<p>Whitey knew well the romantic strain rampant in the soul of the
+ponderous visitor, realized that Jim believed he must save the girl.
+And he realized that, all other methods failing, there was every
+likelihood that Jim would frame a robbery or a bit of crookedness in
+such a manner that he would appear guilty. "He might even plant a jewel
+robbery," reflected Kirk, "and plant the loot in my room. Then, if they
+caught me...."</p>
+
+<p>Early the following morning he went riding with Madge and forewarned
+her of that possibility. Madge was horrified and indignant, but
+there was in her eyes a queer, questioning light which had been
+absent the previous night. Madge was seeing a great deal of smoke and
+instinctively she found herself wondering whether, after all, there
+might not be a bit of fire. She cast aside the idea as unworthy—but it
+persisted subtly and she was downcast and constrained for the last hour
+of their time together.</p>
+
+<p>But she was blessed with a strain of sterling loyalty and active
+fighting qualities. Immediately upon her return home, she sought an
+interview with her father. It was brief, surfeited with mutual pain,
+and very much to the point. Father and daughter were honest with one
+another.</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you opposed to my engagement, Dad?"</p>
+
+<p>"The disparity in age, for one thing."</p>
+
+<p>"What else?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like Kirk."</p>
+
+<p>"You believe he is not—all that he might be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have had him investigated."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet you never heard of a man who was as evil as they say Warren is who
+has never been caught, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why persecute him? Why not play fair? Why make me unhappy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Believing what I do, Madge—"</p>
+
+<p>"The police are down on him—for no reason. They've been persecuting
+him for years. If what they say were true, Dad—" and her voice
+crescendoed bitterly—"they'd have proved something. But it's not true,
+and I want you to know that I shall stand by him in spite of you and
+Mother and this fat Mr. Hanvey and all the rest of the world."</p>
+
+<p>Weston crossed the room and took her face between his hands. "I like
+you to talk that way, Daughter. I like my little girl to be a good
+sportsman. I'm not trying to persecute Warren Kirk: I'm trying to get
+at the truth. You have no objections to that, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>She thought it over for a moment—"And if you discover that these
+allegations are untrue?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you may marry him whenever you wish."</p>
+
+<p>She walked slowly from the room. She and her father had always been
+pals. He was fair to a fault—and honest. She responded to the fairness
+of his present attitude. She loved the Warren Kirk she thought she
+knew. If he was not that man.... If, beneath the polished exterior,
+there was blackness.... She went quietly to her room to ponder....</p>
+
+<p>When she came downstairs shortly before the luncheon hour Jim Hanvey
+was waiting for her. His huge figure overflowed a chair in the
+reception hall and he lumbered to his feet at her descent. Somehow,
+despite the nature of his mission, she could not find it in her heart
+to dislike him. There was something infinitely pathetic and appealing
+about the man—a vague, elusive quality which excited the maternal
+instinct in her breast. The cheap, ready-made clothes which flapped so
+grotesquely about the ill-shapen figure were not funny ... she liked
+Jim Hanvey and she admitted it frankly. He bowed now with elephantine
+lack of grace.</p>
+
+<p>"Good mornin', Miss Madge."</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning."</p>
+
+<p>Jim glanced around apprehensively. "I've been sittin' here waitin' for
+you. I wonder if you'd talk to me for a minute?"</p>
+
+<p>She arched her brows in surprise. "Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go where no one can hear us."</p>
+
+<p>They repaired to the library. Jim hitched his chair very close to hers.
+"I want you to understand just one thing, Miss Madge—I'm a friend of
+your'n." He cleared his throat. "I want to come clean with you—if
+you'll let me."</p>
+
+<p>"Please do."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, first off I want to tell you why I'm here. I'm here—" his fishy
+eyes closed slowly, opened even more slowly and then fixed glassily and
+compellingly on hers—"I'm here to break off this match between you an'
+Whitey."</p>
+
+<p>Her lips parted and she leaned forward. "Why?" she cried. "Do you, too,
+believe that he is—a—a—not what he should be?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim Hanvey's ponderous head rolled from side to side.</p>
+
+<p>"No ma'am!" he said explosively, "I don't!"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" Her voice rang with incredulous amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Whitey ain't no crook—and that's what I wanted to tell you. He's
+on the level, that kid is. They've been out to get him for the last
+ten years and they've not succeeded. Why? The reason is because he's
+straight. But they've had it in for him. If he'd ever slipped—even an
+inch—they'd have got him. That's what I wanted to tell you—that I'm
+here as your friend. Of course I think he's pretty old for you—but
+that's your business and his. Your father thinks I'm gonna try to hang
+somethin' on Whitey. I'm not. But it's better for a friend of his to
+stick around than to tell the old man how I really stand and have him
+hire some one who has it in for Whitey. He wouldn't have a chance then.
+They'd frame him. And I just wanted to explain this to you so you'd
+know you can trust me."</p>
+
+<p>Impulsively she clasped his big right hand in both of hers. Her eyes
+were shining: "I don't know how to thank you. And I <i>do</i> trust you—Oh!
+so much! It's horrible, what they're saying about Warren—and I know
+it isn't so. I—well, do you mind if I tell Warren that you're here to
+help him—to help us?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," returned Jim dryly, "I don't mind. Tell him. He'll be awful
+interested."</p>
+
+<p>And Whitey was interested when she told him the following morning. He
+was more than that, and the amazement which was writ large upon his
+features was reflected in the fury which surcharged his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a damned lie—" He did not catch the startled, hurt glance which
+she bestowed upon him. "Jim believes I'm crooked. He's here to prove it
+to you. And when he says he's our friend, he lies."</p>
+
+<p>She cringed slightly. The intensity of the man troubled her. It was
+something which her immaturity could not understand; a new vision of
+this hitherto soft-spoken, gentle, thoughtful man. A tremor of doubt
+assailed her. Girl-like, she could not comprehend the bitterness which
+seemed so unnecessary. For the moment Whitey Kirk had stepped out of
+character.</p>
+
+<p>Later she told Jim that Kirk was distrustful and Hanvey insisted
+that the three of them meet for a chat. Kirk violently opposed the
+suggestion. Things which he could not fathom were happening too swiftly
+for his comfort. He was afraid of Jim and did not know how to combat
+this new tack—this brummagem friendliness. It was Madge who insisted
+that the trio talk things over, and Madge who made evasion impossible.
+Lowering and sullen he greeted the impassive Jim who puffed placidly
+upon one of his murderous cigars and appeared happily oblivious to
+the rancor in the other's manner. But Madge was noticing—and she was
+vaguely uncomfortable for Jim.</p>
+
+<p>"What's your game, Jim?" Whitey Kirk came straight to the point.</p>
+
+<p>"Game? Who said I was playin' a game?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know perfectly well that when you told Miss Weston you were here
+in the rôle of friend, you lied."</p>
+
+<p>"Mph! You don't care who you call a liar, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No I don't, and——"</p>
+
+<p>"Well——" softly—"I'm too much your friend to get sore at you about
+doin' it. Ain't that the sensible thing, Miss Madge?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is." She clipped her words short with a mannerism keenly remindful
+of her father. "And I must say, Warren, that you seem unnecessarily
+severe."</p>
+
+<p>He swung wrathfully upon her. "I tell you that your father has employed
+this man to destroy our happiness—to break off our engagement——"</p>
+
+<p>"He told me so himself," she answered with some asperity.</p>
+
+<p>"He did?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. And he said he was remaining here because he is our friend
+and because if he resigned any other man who assumed the task would be
+our enemy. Isn't that simple?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh," chimed in Jim, "ain't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Kirk gazed at him through half-closed eyes. "I still don't get the
+drift——"</p>
+
+<p>"It's just this," explained Hanvey. "Everybody says you're a crook—but
+you ain't—are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Folks just think you are. They're terrible unjust to you. You're
+really a gent and you're engaged to a swell young girl. All you want is
+a chance to marry her. Well, I'm here to see that you get that chance."</p>
+
+<p>"That isn't true!" snapped Kirk bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because you know good and well——" He pulled himself up sharply,
+suddenly remembering that his fiancée was an auditor "—that you think
+I'm not on the level."</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, Son, you're doin' yourself an awful injustice. I never knew a
+straighter, nicer feller than you in my life. I've always been your
+friend. I've always told these other dicks who've been after you that
+it wasn't no use—that they'd never get the goods on you so they might
+as well quit tryin'. Honest, I have."</p>
+
+<p>Kirk turned away. "One warning, Madge," he flung harshly over his
+shoulder, "this man isn't to be trusted."</p>
+
+<p>She stared after his retreating figure, her own countenance aflame
+with embarrassment. Jim Hanvey, alone of the trio, seemed unperturbed.
+His attitude of disinterestedness was superb, and when she would have
+apologized for Kirk he cut her short. "That's all right, Miss Madge.
+I don't hold it against poor Whitey. They've been houndin' him for so
+long he's just naturally suspicious of everybody. Don't you go lettin'
+this little scene worry you. Just remember that I'm your friend.
+Real—sure-enough friend."</p>
+
+<p>She left him there and scarcely had she disappeared within the house
+when Kirk returned. His face was pallid and the gray eyes were blazing
+beneath the thinly pencilled brows. Jim greeted him with a broad grin.
+"Back again, Whitey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. What I want to know——"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you one thing you <i>ought</i> to know—that is you pulled an
+awful bone just now. The way you acted you almost convinced me I was
+wrong and that you really are a crook."</p>
+
+<p>"Come off that, Jim. What are you driving at?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just trying to help you out. You an' Miss Madge. Terrible swell kid.
+I'm strong for her."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't hang anything on me."</p>
+
+<p>Hanvey met his eyes squarely. Then the detective's lids closed with
+interminable slowness. At the termination of the protracted ocular yawn
+he gave vent to a single comment. "Nobody in this world ever batted a
+thousand," he said.</p>
+
+<p>That night the three principals in the little drama gave themselves
+over to intensive thought. Jim speculated least of all. He was more
+than merely satisfied with the results of his preliminary work,
+although he was yet somewhat appalled by the difficulty of the task he
+had undertaken—and with the urgency of success. He shuddered in his
+big, simple heart at thought of the girl's future should his efforts
+meet with failure. Whitey was all right in his own sphere—but this
+girl did not belong there and he knew that Whitey could never fit
+himself into her world.</p>
+
+<p>As for Whitey Kirk, that gentleman was victim to a severe and obsessing
+worry. He had been apprehensive from the moment of Jim's arrival on the
+scene and had already laid a predicate of defense against any possible
+move of the detective. But the first move had caught him unprepared—it
+had come from an unexpected quarter and he found himself off guard.
+Jim's expressed friendship was the one thing with which he did not
+know how to cope. He realized that he had pulled a strategic blunder
+that afternoon—all through the evening Madge had been cool and unlike
+her naturally effusive and effervescent self. Madge was thinking—and
+Whitey didn't want Madge to think. Her nimble brain contained too much
+of her father's powers of logical deduction.</p>
+
+<p>Kirk could not vision the goal toward which Jim was heading. That
+Jim had a definite objective, he did not doubt. He knew that the
+protestations of friendly interest were untrue—but he could not
+prove they were untrue. The very fact that Hanvey's strategy was
+unintelligible to him caused additional worry. He could face a definite
+attack. This one, subtle and evasive, bewildered and rendered him
+horribly vulnerable.</p>
+
+<p>Madge sat at her window, staring seriously across the silhouette of
+hills. In her eyes was a brooding reflective light which was at once
+doubting and speculative. Instinct informed her that Jim Hanvey was her
+friend. She could not help but trust him. And she had that day made
+the startling discovery that there was something to Warren Kirk beside
+suave gentility. She had glimpsed beneath the surface and had seen
+there a hardness and a grimness which she—eighteen and in love—had
+never suspected.</p>
+
+<p>There was little sleep for her that night and she did not come down
+the following morning until long after breakfast. She had forgotten an
+engagement to ride with Kirk and learned with an inexplicable measure
+of relief that he had gone alone. In the morning room she found Jim
+Hanvey smoking one of his vile cigars and worrying himself over the
+proper place to drop the ashes. She settled herself for a chat—and so,
+eager and friendly, Whitey Kirk found her when he returned from his
+ride. He remonstrated with her, and, as she had discovered a granite
+something in him the previous day, so he now learned that there was a
+strain of firmness in her which did not brook opposition.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you're unjust and unreasonable, Warren."</p>
+
+<p>"I know what I'm talking about."</p>
+
+<p>"Has Mr. Hanvey ever harmed you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't his fault that he hasn't. He has tried."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>Kirk's face flushed. That was a question which was embarrassing to
+answer. He knew well enough, but—"I know—that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"That isn't sufficient for me, Warren. I like Mr. Hanvey and I believe
+he's our friend."</p>
+
+<p>Kirk's face hardened unpleasantly. "He may be yours, Madge; but he
+isn't mine."</p>
+
+<p>They had walked down the rosepath together and now she left him
+abruptly and returned to Hanvey. He gave no slightest indication of
+interest in their conversation. He stared stolidly at nothing at all
+and allowed her ample time to recover her mental equilibrium.</p>
+
+<p>Kirk again tried to solve the riddle. Jim was proceeding with a smug
+complacency which worried him. Mentally, he checked over the list of
+his criminal exploits. He was positive that each had been excellently
+covered but he wasn't sure. Now. He had been sure until Jim appeared
+on the scene. But nothing could explain Jim's air of confidence save
+the certainty that he had uncovered some supposedly closed trail of
+Kirk's. But if Jim Hanvey was planning to discredit Kirk in the eyes of
+the girl, his actions gave no hint of that fact. It was the following
+morning, after a hearty tiff between Whitey and Madge, that he found
+her crying in an arbor and slumped down beside her consolingly——</p>
+
+<p>"Aw! c'mon, Kid—that ain't no way to carry on. Whitey didn't mean
+nothin' by what he said."</p>
+
+<p>She faced him squarely. There were tears in her eyes but no suggestion
+of weakness in the firm line of her jaw. "It isn't what he said, Mr.
+Hanvey—it's what he didn't say."</p>
+
+<p>"Well then—he didn't mean nothin' by what he didn't say. Whitey's a
+swell feller, Madge. An awful swell feller. Best in the world. He's got
+his faults—we've all of us got them. But I'm strong for Whitey an' I'd
+give anything in the world if he'd believe that."</p>
+
+<p>"So would I," she said. "I trust you, Mr. Hanvey. I don't know why—but
+I do. Perhaps it's because I like you so much."</p>
+
+<p>Jim blushed like a schoolgirl. "Gee! them words is music to my ears.
+There ain't many folks have said that to me, Miss Madge. Y'know—it
+seems that when folks meet up with a fat man they think all they got to
+do to prove they're good fellers is to give him a razzin'. Goshamighty,
+a fat feller likes friends as much as a skinny one. More, I'll say. He
+needs 'em more." He breathed heavily with the exertion of prolonged
+declamation. "That's why I wisht Whitey would like me an' trust me like
+you do. Matter of fact I've just been achin' to solve his problem, but
+he wouldn't let me get within firin' distance—you'd think I was gonna
+eat him."</p>
+
+<p>"You've been aching to solve what problem, Mr. Hanvey?"</p>
+
+<p>"His an' yourn."</p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim looked away. "I don't exactly like to tell you. If Whitey was to
+suspect I was hornin' in on his affairs he'd get plumb peeved. Reckon
+I'd better wait. But it <i>is</i> a terrible good solution."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>Her interrogation fairly crackled. Jim grinned. "Anybody listenin' to
+that would know you was your father's daughter, Sis."</p>
+
+<p>"What have you in mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin' special—just an easy way out. Somethin' Whitey would of
+thought of long ago if he'd been twenty years younger." He stared
+reflectively at the sky—"Elopement!"</p>
+
+<p>The color receded from her cheeks. For a moment she sat motionless,
+then leaned forward earnestly. "Would he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Elope? Goodness goshness! yes! Feller who wouldn't elope with you
+would be a wooden Indian. 'Course I suppose he's figured that it'd get
+you in dutch with your folks, but I've been studyin' them out, an' I
+know they're so nuts about you they'd forgive you right away. Ain't it
+so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes.... Mr. Hanvey, I've been hoping that Warren would suggest that.
+I have, really. I know it sounds unmaidenly to say it—but I've
+been so worried and so uncertain. And recently Warren has acted so
+peculiarly—since you came here, that is.... I wish it was over and
+done with."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the way to talk, Sis. And I want you to know I'm here to help
+you all I can."</p>
+
+<p>"You will?"</p>
+
+<p>"Positively. But—" ruminatingly "—I wouldn't mention that fact to
+Whitey if I was you."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded agreement. "Perhaps I had better not. But I'll count on you
+just the same."</p>
+
+<p>It was that night that she walked through the gardens with Kirk and
+broached her plan. She did it simply and naïvely—she was worried,
+she said, recent developments had mitigated the perfection of their
+happiness. He had become morose and she worried. It was better not to
+go on this way. If he really loved her, he wouldn't wait—he'd just
+carry her off....</p>
+
+<p>Whitey Kirk scarce believed the evidence of his senses. He was
+amazed and exultant. Ever since the moment of Jim's arrival on the
+scene he had longed to suggest an elopement, but he was afraid. Jim
+would find out some way, and then there'd be thunder to pay. He had
+feared it would be a tactical blunder, might arouse her suspicions of
+over-anxiety on his part.</p>
+
+<p>His agreement was instant and enthusiastic—sufficiently enthusiastic
+even for her girlish, romance-loving heart. Within an hour their plans
+were laid: they were to announce after dinner the following night
+that they were going for a ride. At about eight o'clock they'd leave
+the grounds in her own high-powered sport roadster into which their
+suitcases would previously have been put. Then across country to the
+next town—and marriage. Whitey was whistling gleefully when they
+returned to the spacious veranda, but Madge was victim to a strange
+admixture of emotions. On the one hand was the thrill of active
+romance—on the other a feeling that she was doing wrong, that she
+wasn't playing fair with her parents; that, perhaps, after all was said
+and done, Whitey wasn't exactly the man for her.</p>
+
+<p>Some of her doubts she expressed to Jim the following morning. He
+laughed away her fears. He had advised it, he said, because it was the
+simplest way out of a serious difficulty. A problem, he explained, was
+only a problem until it attained solution. It became then, a status.
+Those were not Jim's words, but that was the sense of them. She was
+only half-convinced and told him so.</p>
+
+<p>"But I trust you, Jim Hanvey. I'm taking your advice. I'll do what you
+say."</p>
+
+<p>"You really love Whitey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Y-yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then elope with him to-night."</p>
+
+<p>All through the long afternoon she was distraught. Her suitcase was
+packed and ready. Immediately following a peculiarly strained dinner
+Whitey Kirk disappeared. He returned in a few minutes having, in the
+interim, placed his suitcase in the girl's car. The world was a very
+bright and rosy place for Whitey just then. He glanced contemptuously
+toward the slothful, hulking figure of the detective. Not the least
+item of the prospective triumph would be Jim's discomfiture.</p>
+
+<p>For her part, Madge was uncertain and unhappy. Only her immaturity and
+her fear of that youthful bugbear known as "backing down" prevented
+an eleventh-hour retreat. But, starry-eyed and firm-jawed, she set
+herself to go through with it. She had said she'd do it and she
+would—come what might. But she experienced none of the happiness which
+she had fancied would be hers upon her nuptial night. There was only
+a vague, formless terror ... time and again she turned to Jim Hanvey
+for comfort. Jim knew—she could talk to him. He tried cumbersomely
+to reassure her, and succeeded partially. That evening he was to her
+both mother and father ... they were very close to one another; the
+big, ungainly detective and the bewildered, emotion-driven child of a
+millionaire father.</p>
+
+<p>At seven-thirty o'clock Whitey Kirk called Madge aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Your suitcase in the car, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered softly.</p>
+
+<p>"You put it there yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes...." Then she hesitated and bit her lip. Madge had never been
+taught to lie. "Well, not exactly myself."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean: Not exactly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean, Madge?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, somebody put it there for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see what difference that makes, Warren."</p>
+
+<p>He quizzed her with an intensity which he himself did not understand.
+"Who was it?"</p>
+
+<p>Her head was flung back defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hanvey!"</p>
+
+<p>His jaw dropped slowly. Then his fingers tightened on her arm. "Jim
+Hanvey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then—" He was striving to adjust himself to this queer
+development—"Then Jim Hanvey knows about this elopement?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You told him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. That is—not exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"Good God! Madge, can't you realize what you've done? You've spoiled
+the whole thing. If Jim Hanvey knows of this we may as well call it
+off. We'll never get away with it. I told you from the first that he
+was here to prevent our marriage. And now that you've told him—"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was level and firm in defense of the detective.</p>
+
+<p>"And I've told you <i>you</i> were wrong, Warren. Jim is my friend and
+yours. He won't stop our elopement."</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you think that?" His voice contained a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>"Because," she announced calmly, "the idea of this elopement originated
+with Jim Hanvey!"</p>
+
+<p>His grip on her arm relaxed. He gazed at her in incredulous
+astoundment. His brain seemed momentarily atrophied. Of all possible
+disclosures this was the most disturbing. It had been sufficiently
+alarming to learn that Jim was aware of the proposed elopement but to
+be informed that the idea had originated with the portly detective was
+a stunning blow.</p>
+
+<p>He questioned the girl dazedly, choosing his words with care, holding
+himself in leash that he might betray none of the violent emotion which
+seethed within him. He might have suspected ... might have known that
+Jim was not entirely inactive. And all the time, while the girl was
+explaining, his own brain groped for an answer to the puzzle. What was
+Jim planning? What <i>could</i> he be planning? As from a great distance he
+heard her words—</p>
+
+<p>"And so you see I was right and Jim is your friend."</p>
+
+<p>An uncontrollable fury shook him. The words were out of their own
+volition—"He's a damned sneak! Butting in on my affairs!"</p>
+
+<p>She recoiled. The viciousness of the man's attitude, his venomous
+speech.... He saw his error quickly and for the next ten minutes
+devoted himself and his expert talents to the task of making amends.
+She was only half-convinced.... "We'll go through with it," he said
+grimly. "Jim will double-cross you—you'll see. But we'll go through."</p>
+
+<p>She went to her room. The farewell to her dainty little sanctuary was
+not easy. She dabbed at her eyes with a tiny lace handkerchief and
+prayed for the moral courage to renege at this eleventh hour. But that
+courage did not come—she was too young and her philosophy was builded
+about a tenet of gameness. She had said she'd elope with Warren Kirk
+and elope she would despite the instinct which cried to her in warning.</p>
+
+<p>She pulled herself together with an effort, set her lips in a
+straight, determined line, and—with shoulders thrown back and head
+held high—descended the stairway. Her eyes roved questioningly about
+and she felt more than a hint of regret at failing to discern the
+hulking figure of Jim Hanvey. Nor did she see Kirk. She inquired his
+whereabouts of her father.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't know," answered Weston. "I saw Kirk strolling about
+with Jim Hanvey but I don't know where they went. Weren't you going
+riding with Warren?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded in dumb misery. As they reached the veranda Kirk appeared
+from the dusk. He seemed nervous and, in the light which streamed
+through the doorway, his face possessed a marked pallor. He addressed
+the girl: "All ready, Dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." She turned to her father. "Where is Johnson? I want him to get
+the roadster."</p>
+
+<p>Weston answered. "Johnson has gone to town in the big car, Dear. I'll
+get the other out for you."</p>
+
+<p>"No." Her manner denoted anxiety. "I'll back it out myself. You talk to
+Warren."</p>
+
+<p>There was no eagerness in her manner as she progressed slowly toward
+the garage in the rear of the big house. A premonition of disaster was
+with her, the irrevocability of the thing was depressing. Game as she
+was, there was considerable trepidation at the thought that she was
+thus wilfully abandoning the placidity of her existence for a future
+unknown and with a man whom she had just come to realize she scarcely
+knew.</p>
+
+<p>She climbed thoughtfully into the roadster, assured herself that her
+suitcase and Whitey's were there, and then started the motor. Its
+rhythmic hum brought no elation this night. Just before slipping into
+gear, she reached to the dashboard and switched on her head-lights.
+As by magic the interior of the garage was illumined by the brilliant
+glare. And then, as the significance of the sight disclosed by the
+sudden illumination penetrated her consciousness, she capitulated to
+her overwrought nerves. She screamed.</p>
+
+<p>"Dad! O-oh! Dad!"</p>
+
+<p>She sat motionless, gripped by a horrid fear, until her father stood
+beside the car, and as she alighted uncertainly her eyes discerned the
+figure of Warren Kirk farther back in the shadows. He hovered there
+uncertainly. Her father held her arm anxiously and then, as he saw her
+distended eyes, he followed their direction and a startled exclamation
+escaped from between his lips. For, in the very corner of the garage
+was a bundle of flashy, vivid clothes—a bundle bound securely by ropes
+and rendered mute by a gag.</p>
+
+<p>"He's dead!" The girl's eyes flashed accusingly upon Kirk, and then
+back to the pitiful figure of Jim Hanvey in the corner. Jim was slumped
+grotesquely, his chin hung forward on the massive breast, a thin
+trickle of blood coursed down his fat cheeks and lost itself in the fat
+recesses of the ample chins.</p>
+
+<p>How long she stood there she didn't know. She remembered her father
+leaping across the garage, whipping out a gold penknife as he did so.
+And she knew vaguely that Kirk was beside her, his hand on her elbow.
+She shook his hand off and he moved away as though she had struck him.
+Weston administered first aid to the stricken man from a silver pocket
+flask and not until the fishy eyes wavered open did the girl move, and
+then it was to dart across the garage and drop to her knees by the side
+of the ungainly figure. She pillowed his head on her breast and soft,
+crooning mother-sounds came from between her lips. She wiped away the
+thin stream of blood with the hem of her skirt. Jim rousing himself
+with an effort, blinked dazedly into the glare of the auto lamps and
+shook his head. His voice came lugubriously—</p>
+
+<p>"Gosh! I sure feel like Friday the thirteenth."</p>
+
+<p>As Jim, with the aid of Theodore Weston, struggled to his feet, Whitey
+Kirk moved slowly into the circle of light. His finely chiselled face
+exhibited great concern. He voiced a question—"What happened, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>It was Madge Weston who answered. She, too, had risen, and a new
+maturity seemed to have enveloped her. With a quietly dramatic gesture
+she removed from the fourth finger of her left hand the ring which Kirk
+had given her. She extended it to him.</p>
+
+<p>"You know what happened to him, Warren."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't...." His denial was fervent. "I'll swear to you, Madge—"</p>
+
+<p>"Take this, Warren. I'd rather not discuss the matter."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes held hers. And the man saw there a light of finality which was
+beyond question or argument. With that revealing glance he knew that he
+had lost. Madge turned to her father and gave a calm, quiet, womanly
+explanation—</p>
+
+<p>"I was about to elope with Warren. He was afraid that Mr. Hanvey might
+try to stop us. And so he committed this—this cowardly act—"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't!" It was Kirk defending himself passionately. "I give you my
+word. Jim, you know I didn't do this. Tell them—"</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't matter what Mr. Hanvey says," retorted the girl sadly. "He
+has always been your friend and he's your friend now. He'd probably say
+you didn't do it, wouldn't you, Mr. Hanvey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeh." Jim's big head nodded slowly. "I prob'ly would. I ain't aimin'
+to git Whitey into no trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Warren, he's standing by you to the end. For it is the end,
+Warren. The very end. I've learned a good deal in the last few days.
+Somehow, I marvel that I didn't know before."</p>
+
+<p>"But I didn't do it, Madge. Tell her that I didn't do it, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>Jim met his eyes levelly. "I ain't accused you of nothin', have I,
+Whitey?"</p>
+
+<p>Kirk stood rigid, staring from one to the other. From father and
+daughter he received stares of unveiled hostility. From Jim Hanvey only
+a mild, blinking reproof. Kirk's big figure shook with fury and he
+smashed one fist into the palm of the other hand.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all a damned lie!" he shouted. "I had nothing to do with this and
+Jim Hanvey knows it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," came the quiet retort from the detective, "I ain't said you
+did, have I?"</p>
+
+<p>It was Madge Weston who interposed. "It doesn't matter what either of
+you might say," she remarked coldly. "And now, Dad, I think we'd better
+help Mr. Hanvey into the house."</p>
+
+<p>They supported the big figure between them. Whitey Kirk stood aside
+as they passed him. Later, after Weston and Madge had bandaged Jim's
+slight scalp wound, Kirk dispatched a note to Madge protesting his
+innocence and begging for an audience. She returned a curt refusal and
+the following morning, without again having seen the girl, Whitey Kirk
+abruptly departed the Weston home.</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon Jim Hanvey and Theodore Weston faced each other across
+the polished surface of the walnut desk in the library. Jim was puffing
+peacefully upon one of his favorite black cigars and his host was
+struggling manfully with its mate. But however horrible the cigar might
+have been, it was not sufficiently malevolent to negative entirely the
+unalloyed exaltation which Weston was experiencing.</p>
+
+<p>"You accomplished the impossible, Jim. I'll never forget it. I didn't
+believe it would work——"</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't so dog-goned sure of it myself," answered the big detective
+slowly. Then he grinned ruefully as he tenderly rubbed the bruise
+on his head. "I'll hand you one thing, Mr. Weston. Your bindin' an'
+gaggin' wasn't such a fine job—but believe me that sure was one awful
+wallop you hit me. I don't wonder Miss Madge was so sure that Whitey
+done it. She never would believe her Dad was that cruel."</p>
+
+<p>Weston was deeply apologetic. "You insisted that I hit you hard."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure I did," chuckled Jim. "I'm just remarkin' that you certainly took
+me at my word."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="PINK_BAIT">PINK BAIT</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>There was nothing about Mr. Thomas Matlock Braden to mark him as being
+other than a perfect gentleman. From the moment of his unostentatious
+arrival he blended perfectly into the tinsel background of the
+fashionable Indiana resort hotel and while he regretted that the other
+guests were not aware that he possessed eleven new tailored suits he
+found contentment in the fact that they were equally ignorant of his
+eleven aliases.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Braden was old enough to appreciate the benefits which accrue to
+one who treads the path of rectitude, and, by the same token, he had
+attained to a philosophy which was based upon the theory that there was
+no transgression provided one is undiscovered. He was slightly more
+than forty-five years of age, tall and lean and quietly purposeful. His
+black hair was graying at the temples: he presented a picture which
+impelled passers-by to turn and murmur: "What a distinguished looking
+gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>In cultivating this external aspect of severe probity, Tommy assumed
+a virtue which he had not. Morally, Tommy was a total loss. He was
+courteous and suave and cosmopolitan. And unscrupulous. He feared
+nothing save detection and ordered his existence upon the hypothesis
+that the legally constituted authorities are, on the whole, a stupid
+lot who have mastered the fundamentals of criminology and care nothing
+and know less about the finer points of the science.</p>
+
+<p>He had long since graduated from the ranks of ordinary crooks. He now
+handled only tasks which required extraordinary finesse, infinite
+patience and an all-embracing knowledge of human nature. He selected
+his clients with as great care as he chose his victims and the former,
+at least, had small cause to protest his treatment. Certainly Mr.
+Michael Donley fancied himself extremely fortunate in having secured
+the cooperation of so eminent a personage in the criminal world.</p>
+
+<p>The deal between Messrs. Donley and Braden had been consummated in a
+few moments.</p>
+
+<p>"You know them Vanduyn poils, Tommy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I got 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it."</p>
+
+<p>"How'dja get wise?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Braden's thin, ascetic lips expanded into a tolerant smile. "You
+bungled that job horribly, Mickey. Every dick in the country knows who
+pulled that job. They'll nab you the first time you turn around."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Donley made a rueful grimace. "You said it, bo. There aint a fence
+will touch 'em. That's why I come to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"How about sellin' 'em for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I might consider it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll split fifty-fifty."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Braden laughed lightly. "You amuse me, Mickey; truly you do."</p>
+
+<p>"An even split——"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't do business with you in that way, Mickey. You're a common
+crook and I don't care to enter into a co-partnership with you.
+However, I'll buy the pearls from you for five thousand dollars cash."</p>
+
+<p>"Aw! Tommy."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well." Mr. Braden waved insouciantly. "Sell them elsewhere. I'm
+rather busy these days."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Donley knew that he was caught and he knew that Tommy Braden knew
+it. It was impossible for Mickey to dispose of the gems; in fact,
+there was a strong likelihood that even Tommy Braden would find it an
+impossible task. Certainly there was little doubt that it would tax his
+capacities to the utmost.</p>
+
+<p>Mickey studied closely the inscrutable countenance of his companion.
+In it he read a subtle enjoyment of the situation. Mickey was
+annoyed—chiefly because he was helpless.</p>
+
+<p>"Awright Tommy. Where's the five grand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where are the pearls, Mickey?"</p>
+
+<p>"They're cache'd. Didn't dare bring 'em here. The bulls've got me
+shadowed. It's a shame the way they hound a poor crook."</p>
+
+<p>"It is, Mickey; it certainly is. But it proves that you're wise to sell
+them to me. They don't care anything for your carcass; they can pick
+you up any minute they choose. What they're after is the jewels. Pretty
+nice reward they're offering, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Donley shook his bullet head sorrowfully. "Ten thousand berries.
+Gosh.... But the point is—where'll we meet?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Braden did some careful thinking. "Let's say to-morrow afternoon
+at two o'clock at the corner of Boulevard and Thirty-second street,
+Bayonne. And be sure they don't trail you."</p>
+
+<p>Mickey laughed shortly. "The dick that follies me there is going to
+have went all over Joisey."</p>
+
+<p>They met as per schedule. Tommy Braden at the wheel of a borrowed
+sedan. Together they rolled slowly down the Hudson County Boulevard
+toward Bergen Point. Mr. Donley produced a chamois sack and from it
+poured forth a stream of pink glory. "Gawd! ain't they beauts?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy's eyes glittered with the appreciation of a connoisseur. "Very
+fine, Mickey. A rope of matched pearls ... hmm! I should say they're
+worth a hundred thousand dollars."</p>
+
+<p>"Ev'ry dime of that. Say, listen—how 'bout raising the ante a grand or
+two?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be silly, Mickey. Here's your five thousand. Give me the pearls."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Donley left the sedan at Eighth Street and returned to New York
+via the Jersey Central. The route chosen by Mr. Thomas Matlock Braden
+was considerably more circuitous. He crossed the Kill von Kull to Port
+Richmond and traversed Staten Island to St. George where he boarded
+the New York ferry. He reached his apartment, concealed the pearls
+carefully and four days later departed for Indiana.</p>
+
+<p>Braden's mind was agile, and before his departure he had carefully
+planned every move of the delicate game. For one thing he had obtained
+several magazines which contained pictures of a certain Mr. Jared
+Mallory. Mr. Braden had always been interested in Mr. Mallory. The
+interest had been aroused once by the casual comment of a detective
+friend that they were not dissimilar in appearance. Mr. Mallory was
+a trifle older, true, but he had the same lean, sinewy figure; the
+same easy grace of bearing; the same appearance of gentility and the
+same touches of gray at the temples. Of course no person who knew Mr.
+Mallory could ever confound the twain, but a person who had never seen
+Mr. Mallory (and few had beyond his limited circle) could very readily
+believe that Tommy Braden was he, provided that belief was suggested.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Braden was a great admirer of Mallory's. The latter was all
+that Tommy would have liked to be. He was immeasurably wealthy, he
+did not work, he existed in a little world of his own and looked with
+fine and distant disdain upon the senseless turmoil of a commercial
+world. If he dabbled at all in the marts of commerce it was with a
+magnificent aloofness which kept his name clear of financial news. One
+could imagine him as a person whose fortune was invested exclusively
+in government bonds. But the greatest link between Messrs. Braden and
+Mallory lay in the fact that the latter was by way of being a jewel
+collector.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy, too, collected jewelry, although in a rather more informal way.
+A gem to Mr. Mallory was a thing of beauty and of glory; something
+to be treasured and gazed upon and studied. Mr. Braden, being rather
+grossly material, saw in a jewel only its intrinsic worth and its
+marketable value where the method of its coming into his possession had
+been a bit questionable. But he loved jewelry none the less ... the
+viewpoint of the two men was basically the same although diametrically
+opposite in the working-out; Braden saw jewels in terms of cash;
+Mallory saw dollars in terms of gems.</p>
+
+<p>Jared Mallory was known to the masses in a vague way, such as a king
+is known. He was a person without a public personality. He shunned
+publicity and human contact outside his own little personal circle.
+He was a living definition of the word exclusive in its sociological
+application ... and so it was that very few persons were aware of the
+fact that Mr. Mallory had but recently sailed for France. Tommy Braden
+knew it, but that was only because Tommy happened to have an interest
+in Mr. Mallory. And now Tommy planned to cash in on his observation of
+the millionaire jewel-collector.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy's decision to visit the famous Indiana resort was the result of
+careful deliberation. He knew that this was the last place in the world
+that Mr. Mallory would ever visit, and it was logical to presume that
+Mr. Mallory's intimates would also shun it. They were to be found on
+private estates situated in Florida or along the Carolina coast ...
+anywhere but at a blatant resort hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was Mr. Braden wrong in his conjecture. Of the thousands of guests
+who thronged the hotel lobby, the golf course, the casino—there was
+not one who had ever personally seen the famous Mr. Mallory although
+there were several whose bank balances contained as many figures
+as that of the gem collector. Which did not mean that Mr. Braden's
+fellow-guests were socially doubtful but rather that Mr. Mallory's
+status was such that the hotel would have considered he was paying it
+an inestimable compliment by deigning to visit.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy arrived at the hotel late one evening. He knew that one or two
+guests commented upon his distinguished appearance as he crossed the
+lobby. Such comment always pleased Tommy. It was a tribute to
+something which was innate. He liked to tell himself that he was not a
+snob ... he intended fully that the reputation of Mr. Mallory should
+not suffer by reason of any misapprehension which might be more or less
+deliberately engendered in the minds of his fellow-guests.</p>
+
+<p>He registered in a cramped scrawl which bore a startling similarity to
+the labored chirography of Jared Mallory. But Tommy was nothing if not
+honest. The clerk whirled the register and glimpsed the signature——</p>
+
+<p class="ph2">THOMAS M. BRADEN—New York.</p>
+
+<p>"I wired for a suite...." Tommy's voice was rather indifferent, his
+manner bored.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes sir. Certainly sir." The gong. "Front. Show Mr. Braden up to Suite
+F."</p>
+
+<p>The dinner hour approached. Mr. Braden bathed and dressed with
+scrupulous care in an ultra-conservative dinner jacket. There was about
+his rather statuesque figure an air of stateliness which harmonized
+with the conventional simplicity of his garb. His dress was so
+unobtrusive as to command instant attention. He descended to the lobby,
+crossed to the dining room and slipped a crisp and ample bill into the
+willing hand of the headwaiter by way of assuring himself the proper
+respect.</p>
+
+<p>He knew that more than one person commented upon him during the course
+of the meal. For the most part he kept his eyes down, but when they
+did chance to focus upon some person, that individual experienced the
+unpleasant sensation of being looked through. More than one consulted
+the clerk after dinner for information as to the identity of the
+stranger who had now retired to a corner of the lobby and was puffing
+lightly upon a monogrammed cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Among those who had particularly noticed Tommy was a couple from the
+Middle West: a rather wizened gentleman of some fifty-five years and
+his unduly ample wife. Mr. and Mrs. Edgar H. Morse had, for the past
+five years, been frantically attempting to create the impression which
+Mr. Braden was now registering so profoundly. Wealth had come to them
+in an unexpected flood. They were not crude persons but they did lack
+the background which is essential to true culture and, as earnestly as
+they had struggled for financial success during years which were rather
+more lean than fat, so they set about adjusting themselves to the
+social demands of their miraculously acquired millions.</p>
+
+<p>They were rather pathetic as they hung on the fringe of things and
+sought to absorb in a few years the social ease which must be born in
+one. They were not aggressive in their wealth—as a matter of fact they
+scarcely understood it; had not yet fathomed its meaning. And their
+tastes were those of the contest-answerers who send in to the editor
+lengthy replies to the prize query: "What would you do if you suddenly
+inherited a million dollars?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Morse strolled over to the desk and made inquiry of the
+clerk.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! him? That's Thomas M. Braden."</p>
+
+<p>His manner indicated that anyone who was anyone would certainly know
+Mr. Thomas M. Braden. Mr. Morse caught the nuance and uttered an
+enlightening—"A-a-ah! So it is."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a wonderful looking man," commented Mrs. Morse. "So
+distinguished."</p>
+
+<p>They managed to seat themselves near Tommy. He appraised them
+scientifically. There was no mistaking their new and complete
+wealth—"Woman—no taste—but nice. Swellest modiste in New York—make
+me the grandest gown you got. He's a bird that ain't sure yet whether
+he ought to wear plain or patent oxfords with his dinner jacket. They
+look soft."</p>
+
+<p>He was apparently oblivious to their proximity until Mr. Morse
+apologetically borrowed a match. He did so apprehensively and was
+put instantly at ease by Tommy's manner. But Mr. Braden immediately
+appeared to lose interest in them. He was gazing out across the
+lobby—in but not of the crowd. And just when the Morses had become
+discouraged Tommy turned to them with a question—"How far is the golf
+links from the hotel?"</p>
+
+<p>Edgar H. Morse expanded instantly. He orated jerkily upon the nearness
+of the first tee, the condition of the course, the scenic beauties of
+the place—and wound up with the inevitable question of all golfers:
+"What do you shoot?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy shrugged, "I'm not very good. When I break a hundred I'm
+satisfied."</p>
+
+<p>"Just my game. I did a 98 to-day and I'm tickled pink. Of course I
+hole every putt and most of 'em don't. You booked up for a game in the
+morning?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Braden bestowed upon his companion a stare in which there was the
+faintest hint of disapproval; a stare such as he fancied Jared Mallory
+might confer. Morse felt a sensation of faintness.</p>
+
+<p>"No-o," answered Tommy, "I'm not."</p>
+
+<p>There was an awkward pause. Edgar Morse desired to invite this regal
+gentleman to play with him but he dreaded a rebuff. And just when the
+subject was about to expire naturally, Tommy ventured a polite "Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why—er—a—I just sort of thought.... That is, if you weren't——"</p>
+
+<p>"That we might play a round?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Yes." Eagerly. "If you would—that is, if you'd care to."</p>
+
+<p>"Delighted. What hour shall we tee off?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know—course crowded—have to get starting time." He rose
+excitedly. "'Scuse me minute. I'm in strong with the starter—give 'im
+cigars—and—er—things. See if I can't fix it...." He darted away,
+leaving Tommy with Mrs. Morse. She favored him with a wistful little
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>"That's real nice of you," she said. "Eddie just dotes on golf."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I shall enjoy it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! sure you will. As soon as you get to know Eddie real well—that
+is, if you should—you'll like him tremendously. He's been awful
+lonesome here...."</p>
+
+<p>Edgar H. Morse returned, flushed and triumphant. "Fixed him. Ain't hard
+when you know how. We're off at nine-fifteen. Say, I'm all pepped up."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy took a cigarette from a platinum case. He extended the case to
+his new-found friend. Edgar Morse took one and glanced at the monogram.
+He wanted to note the brand of cigarette this gentleman used that he
+might unostentatiously duplicate it at the earliest possible moment.</p>
+
+<p>His eye focussed upon a simple monogram. Private brand ... but no: the
+initials were distinctly not T. M. B. He inspected more closely, then
+lighted the thing and inhaled deeply. "Fine cigarette. What make?"</p>
+
+<p>"My own," answered Tommy Braden suavely.</p>
+
+<p>They chatted amiably for a few moments and then Tommy rose, expressed
+polite regrets and moved away. "T'morrow morning, remember," the little
+man flung after him. "We'll have a great round. Er—a—that is, I hope
+we will."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy smiled his best Mallory smile, indicating the ultra-correct
+degree of mild enthusiasm. And when he had taken hat and stick and
+disappeared Mr. Edgar H. Morse did a very peculiar thing. He reached
+eagerly into the ash tray and rescued therefrom two frayed cigarette
+stubs. Mrs. Morse was duly horrified.</p>
+
+<p>"Eddie! What in the world!"</p>
+
+<p>But Edgar did not hear. He was frowning slightly and his gaze was fixed
+intently upon the monogram of Tommy's privately made cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, Ella—you heard him say they were his private cigarettes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But a good many gentlemen——"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. Sure. I'm not saying they don't. But there's something peculiar
+about this chap. See this monogram here—it ain't T. M. B. at all. The
+initials are J. M."</p>
+
+<p>From the deepest shadows of the spacious veranda, Tommy Braden was a
+witness to the little scene. A slow smile of satisfaction creased his
+thin, patrician lips. "So much for him," he murmured. "That Mallory
+monogram was a great idea. Our trade mark—once seen, never forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>The game of golf was enjoyed by both men. They played a nip and tuck
+contest which atoned in competitive value what it undoubtedly lacked in
+skill. It was not until the seventeenth green when an impossibly long
+putt caromed off a match stick and clicked into the cup that victory
+finally perched upon the Morse banner. The little man was jumpy with
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Great game—wonderful. Ain't often I meet a guy I like to play as much
+as I do you. Besides, most of the chaps I know can beat me—beat the
+tar out of me. I'm an awful dub. Say—we got to do this again—a—that
+is, I hope we got to."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall," smiled Tommy. "I've enjoyed the morning immensely."</p>
+
+<p>From the eighteenth green they strolled to the clubhouse where they
+indulged in long, tall lemonades which appeared to inspire Mr. Morse
+with no particular enthusiasm. "Got something in my room. C'mon and
+sample it. That is—a—if you care to."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Braden was delighted—far more than he cared to admit. One glance
+at the suite occupied by the Morses and he was well satisfied that
+he had picked his victim competently. He knew just about what this
+suite was costing and his keen eye missed no detail of the many which
+shrieked new and amazing wealth.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Morse inquired interestedly as to the details of the match—a
+frequently interrupted and garbled account which had to do with lucky
+breaks, horrible kicks, phenomenal putts.... "We're gonna play again in
+the morning," finished Edgar. "That is—er—Mr. Braden says he wants
+to. 'Course I'm not blaming him for kicking. That last putt of mine
+didn't have any right going down. I always did believe that putting was
+too all-fired important in this game...."</p>
+
+<p>The fraternity of golf engendered a friendliness which would have been
+long in developing else. It was decided that they should dine together
+that night, and about five o'clock in the afternoon Tommy visited the
+florist shop in the hotel where he ordered a corsage bouquet sent up
+to Mrs. Morse. "Right here," he reflected, "is where the old dame gets
+hooked right. And at the same time I exterminate another bird."</p>
+
+<p>"Shly write the card?" inquired the obtrusively blonde young lady at
+the counter.</p>
+
+<p>"No-o." Tommy produced a card which he flipped across the counter. She
+glanced at it indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>"Cash?" she inquired, "or shly charge it to y'r room, Mr. Mallory?"</p>
+
+<p>He started visibly. "What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shly charge it to your room or juh wanna pay cash?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean—what was it you called me?"</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at the card. "Mallory. That's what the card here says,
+an'——"</p>
+
+<p>He snatched it brusquely from her hand. "Wrong card," he snapped
+making an effort to appear as though he were making an effort to appear
+unembarrassed. "Here's my card. You may charge it to Suite F."</p>
+
+<p>He whirled and moved away, his manner denoting extreme irritation. The
+rather fullblown young lady stared after him. "Now ain't he the pussy's
+ankle?" she murmured reflectively. "Gets sore because he slips me the
+wrong card. That ain't nothin' to get peeved about." An assistant
+manager drifted toward her counter. "Say, Gus—who's the flossy bird
+with the gray thatch which just rambled away from here?"</p>
+
+<p>The young gentleman shrugged. "I got worries of my own, Susie. What's
+the matter—he been trying to date you up?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. But he ordered a corsage sent up to some female an' he slipped
+me the wrong card. I looks on the card an' reads the name an' I says
+'Shly charge it to your room, Mr. Mallory?' an' with that he like to
+of bit my head off. He just about gives me the bum's rush gettin' that
+pasteboard which he tears up right away. Then he slips me this one—Mr.
+Thomas Matlock Braden—I don't see nothing to get excited about just
+because he slips me the wrong pasteboard, d'you? What difference does
+it make to me if his name's Thomas Braden or Jared Mallory or what
+it is. I reckon neither of them handles is gonna start no war—Say!
+Gus—for the love of Mike, what's eatin' you? If you feel like that
+you'd ought to see a Doc."</p>
+
+<p>The ninth assistant manager put out a delicately restraining hand.
+"Jared Mallory?" he said half to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Susie was annoyed. "Now listen at me, Gus—"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought Braden wasn't his name. Jared Mallory! Holy Suffering
+Catfish! Say, you ain't sure about that, are you, Susie?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Of course I ain't. I only know it, that's all. If you think my
+lamps have went bad you can assort them card which he flang on the
+floor."</p>
+
+<p>It took the young man but a few seconds to recover the torn bits
+of pasteboard and arrange them in proper order. "Well I'll be
+darned—Jared Mallory is right. Say, lemme tell the Chief."</p>
+
+<p>Susie restrained him briefly. "Who is this bird Mallory—that you
+should get all het up over him? Who did he ever kill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jared Mallory," explained the excited young man, "is one of the
+richest nuts in the United States: that's all. He's got a bankroll so
+big you'd have to have four eyes to see it all."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why the alias?" she queried practically.</p>
+
+<p>"This joint ain't Mallory's size. He's the kind of guy who thinks he's
+slumming when he visits a hotel like this. Is that clear now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure—sure it is, Gus. Clear as mud."</p>
+
+<p>It required just five minutes of the young man's time to transmit his
+enthusiasm to the manager. "Of course," counselled that dignitary, "you
+shall do nothing to embarrass Mr. Mallory. If he desires to visit us
+incognito—"</p>
+
+<p>And within ten minutes the manager had informed two of his particular
+friends that Jared Mallory, the millionaire, was registered at the
+hotel under the name of Thomas Matlock Braden. By dinnertime that night
+a dozen persons knew it and before morning Tommy was a marked man—at
+which Tommy merely smiled a thoroughly satisfied smile. "When Mr.
+Barnum spoke his famous words," he soliloquized, "he must have been
+timing things with a slow watch."</p>
+
+<p>It was fully forty-eight hours before the rumor of Braden's identity
+reached the ears of Mrs. Edgar H. Morse. At receipt of the tidings
+she almost collapsed. "That's right—I knew all the time he was
+somebody tremendous." And she proceeded to recount the incident of the
+monogrammed cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p>But it was in the privacy of the Morse suite that the knowledge
+received a most thorough threshing out. "Golly!" breathed Edgar. "Think
+of me bumming around with Jared Mallory. Honeybunch! we're sure sliding
+up the social ladder now, we are. I thought there was something funny
+about those cigarettes. And he's a gentleman right—he is; so much of a
+one he don't have to be watching his step all the time. Funny he should
+like me—er—a—that is, if he really does."</p>
+
+<p>Thus far Mallory was merely a name to Edgar Morse and Edgar Morse was
+only a name to Tommy Braden. Each set in motion inquiries as to the
+other. Tommy's task proved the easier.</p>
+
+<p>Within five days he was in possession of full information regarding
+the financial and social standing of his prospective victim. He knew
+that Mr. Morse had been a ten-thousand-a-year man with an aptitude for
+saving until a certain wild venture in war babies had catapulted him
+into the multi-millionaire class; so suddenly, in fact, that neither
+the excitable little man nor his wife had yet adjusted themselves to
+their new position in life. Tommy rather liked them; they weren't
+the offensive type of <i>nouveau riche</i>—there was nothing aggressive
+or vulgar about either. And Tommy was convinced that he would not be
+doing them an injury by selling to them the Vanduyn pearls. According
+to Tommy's way of figuring the detectives would never suspect that
+handsome jewels in the possession of Edgar H. Morse had been come by
+illicitly, so that, under the deal he contemplated no one would be
+the loser. "No one except Vanduyn," he mused, "and that baby is stung
+anyway."</p>
+
+<p>Information regarding Jared Mallory came less readily to Mr. Morse.
+Mr. Mallory was not among those present in the Dunn and Bradstreet
+reports; but now that the great hotel was agog with knowledge of
+Tommy's supposedly true identity, scraps of information were working
+into a comprehensive—and rather flattering—whole. As a matter of
+fact the actual presence of Jared Mallory would not have excited the
+curiosity caused by Tommy's incognito. There was something irresistibly
+intriguing about a man who sought to conceal his eminence—something
+of greater allure than the eminence itself. Mr. Mallory—so general
+comment had it—possessed the wealth of Crœsus, the family tree of a
+Plantagenet and he was inclined to be more or less of what the public
+expressively if inelegantly terms a nut.</p>
+
+<p>Within a week all doubt which may have existed as to his being Jared
+Mallory had been removed. The manager had personally made occasion
+to visit Tommy's room when Tommy was absent. He found a half hundred
+cigarettes monogrammed J. M., one or two handkerchiefs with the same
+embroidered initials and an ancient letter addressed to Jared Mallory's
+New York address.</p>
+
+<p>But even at that Tommy was not entirely satisfied. He closeted himself
+one day with the manager and explained to him that a telegram might
+possibly come to the hotel addressed to Mr. Mallory; in which event
+it was to be delivered to him. No such telegram ever arrived, but
+whatever doubt may have remained to the manager was promptly and
+effectively set at rest. Nor did that personage maintain the secrecy
+which had been demanded of him. True, he passed the information only
+to certain intimate friends who, in turn, conveyed it to their own
+intimates—until the positive knowledge was the property of the entire
+guest personnel.</p>
+
+<p>There was, of course, an avalanche of attention showered upon
+the supposed Jared Mallory to all of which he was magnificently
+indifferent. He was courteous and frostily impersonal. He accepted
+one or two invitations with an air of bespeaking condescension, and
+through it all he vouchsafed his intimacy only to the Morses.</p>
+
+<p>But even with them he maintained a reserve. Edgar Morse, prideful of
+his recent success, told Tommy of it, thereby bringing no agony of
+soul to Mr. Braden; but of himself Tommy never spoke. He did mention
+casually an acquaintanceship extending from Cape Town to Bombay and
+from New York to Sydney; he spoke feelingly and with passionate
+intensity whenever the subject of jewels was mentioned and he openly
+admired an unusually handsome emerald which Mrs. Morse possessed.
+But not once was he other than Thomas Matlock Braden—even on the
+memorable evening when Mrs. Morse, carried away by her interest in the
+conversation, addressed him as Mr. Mallory.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy's forehead corrugated in a frown of annoyance. "What's that?" he
+inquired with frigid politeness.</p>
+
+<p>She flushed scarlet. "Why—er—you see, folks around the hotel say you
+are Jared Mallory of New York."</p>
+
+<p>There was no doubting his anger. His voice came in crisp and incisive
+negation: "I am afraid I am not responsible for gossip. I am not Jared
+Mallory."</p>
+
+<p>Ella Morse was flustered and her husband came eagerly to her rescue.
+"Now don't you go blaming Ella, Mr. Braden. She's been hearing so much
+about you being Mr. Mallory and all the folks in the hotel wanting to
+know if you really were, that she—I—that is, we—we've sort of called
+you Mr. Mallory to ourselves and the name kind of slipped out. It
+ain't any business of ours who you are—and we didn't go to cause you
+any embarrassment...." He paused and spluttered. Tommy stared coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, Mr. Morse. And I am sure that Mr. Mallory would not be
+at all flattered."</p>
+
+<p>"No—of course he wouldn't. He'd prob'ly be awful sore. That
+is—er—a—not because folks thought you were him—of course you're as
+good as he is any day in the week, including Sundays—but on account of
+his feeling—well you know what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I'm sure I do. But let's don't discuss it further. I prefer to
+remain Thomas M. Braden."</p>
+
+<p>"'Sall right with me, Mr. Braden. You can be Willie Jones if you want
+to and it don't make any difference to us, does it, Ella?"</p>
+
+<p>But after Tommy had parted from them that evening after a session at
+the casino, Edgar swung on his wife. "Goshamighty, Ella—wasn't he sore
+when he found out folks knew who he was?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. "Can you blame him, Eddie? Here he's taken all this trouble
+to make folks believe he ain't Jared Mallory ... I reckon he's terribly
+put out. But there isn't a doubt in the world that he's him. If he
+wasn't Mr. Mallory he wouldn't get peeved about folks thinking he was."</p>
+
+<p>The friendship between Tommy Braden and the Morses flourished after
+that little verbal clash. If unpleasant memory of it rankled in Tommy's
+mind, he gave no indication and his suavity and friendliness put them
+completely in his power. They drove together—in Morse's car—and
+Edgar and Tommy played golf daily. He shunned the society of the other
+guests, rigidly maintaining his attitude of impregnable exclusiveness.
+And it was after a fortnight of this that the subject of jewelry
+again came up: neither Edgar nor his wife suspecting that Tommy had
+introduced the subject.</p>
+
+<p>He appeared to become inspired. He thrilled them with romances of
+famous gems. The history of renowned jewels he had at his finger-tips.
+They were seated in the parlor of his suite, the air filled with the
+fragrance of excellent cigars.... "But after all," declaimed Mr.
+Braden, "there is only one jewel which is worthy the name."</p>
+
+<p>"And that is?"</p>
+
+<p>"The pearl."</p>
+
+<p>They were in enthusiastic agreement. Tommy launched into an expansive
+account of the pearl fisheries which he claimed to have seen, he
+explained to them the mysteries of great pearls and enthralled them
+with his enthusiasm. And then——</p>
+
+<p>"I'm passionately fond of them," he confessed boyishly. "And I have
+something here—if you'd like to see it."</p>
+
+<p>A significant glance flashed between the others. The jewel-collector
+had been humanized by his hobby.... He opened one of his trunks and a
+few seconds later returned with a battered leather case of sizeable
+dimensions. They gathered near him at the table, and then, very slowly
+and worshipfully, he flung back the lid.</p>
+
+<p>The Vanduyn pearls smiled up at them in pink perfection. Mrs. Morse
+gasped with delight.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh-oh! How glorious!"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy caught up the rope of gems and ran them caressingly through his
+fingers. "They are among the most perfect pearls in the world—each one
+a match for every other one. Each has its history, its romance. It has
+taken me years to collect them."</p>
+
+<p>They were mesmerized by the magnificence of the jewels. And, while
+they stared under the spell, Tommy talked softly and well about them.
+He described the long stretches of sandy beach, the atolls and palm
+stretches of the somnolent South Seas—the slumbering coral reefs, the
+mahogany-skinned Kanakas. His voice trembled as he described the pearl
+fishing operations; the shark menace; the dangers faced by the pearl
+producers. He was a natural actor and he held the little manufacturer
+and his wife in the hollow of his hand. And then, just when it seemed
+as though they could no longer endure the glory of the thing he showed
+them—he snapped the case shut and turned away.</p>
+
+<p>In a second he had dropped back into his customary manner: scrupulously
+polite, a trifle distant, unutterably exclusive. But the Morses were
+no longer with him in spirit. They were dazed. It was Edgar Morse who
+sounded the words which brought a lilt of triumph to the heart of Tommy
+Braden.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm rather sorry you showed us those, Mr. Braden."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I want them."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy smiled good-humouredly. "Then I, too, am sorry. I'm afraid there
+are no other pearls precisely like these."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Braden knew he had builded well. He deliberately shunted the
+conversation from the subject of jewelry, knowing that the little man
+and his sweet-faced wife would discuss the pearls once they were alone
+again. Nor was he wrong. They were captivated by the sheer beauty of
+the things; and their suddenly aroused passion had nothing whatever to
+do with the intrinsic worth of that which they had come to covet.</p>
+
+<p>"If he would only sell them," she said wistfully. "They would cost a
+fortune, but——"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't the money," he answered. "Mr. Mallory doesn't care for money
+and he does care for his pearls: that's all. I'm sure he'd never sell
+them—er—that is, I don't think he would."</p>
+
+<p>"We could ask him."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid we couldn't. We might hint around ... that is, kind of test
+him out."</p>
+
+<p>But, somehow, they found that assignment unreasonably difficult. Their
+mention of the pearls the night following excited no response from
+him, but on the night after that he consented to again display the
+magnificent rope. He told them off, jewel by jewel ... but his manner
+forbade the mention of a sale. Talk of dollars and cents in connection
+with their flawless beauty would have been a sacrilege.</p>
+
+<p>Morse did essay one valiant attempt—"We'd be awfully appreciative,
+Mr. Braden, if you could help us get some pearls exactly like
+those—er—a—that is, if there are any."</p>
+
+<p>The other man shrugged. "I'm afraid there are not," he retorted briefly.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy was playing an ultra-careful game. He was making progress slowly
+but surely; casting himself in the rôle of quarry. And he might have
+continued in just that way had not something occurred on the ensuing
+day which caused him considerable apprehension.</p>
+
+<p>At first he did not see the Gargantuan figure which hulked at the desk
+and wrestled with the register. It was not until the stranger turned
+and surveyed the lobby through glassy, fishlike eyes that a premonition
+of danger smote him. His face hardened and he whistled sharply through
+his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>The person at the desk was not one to inspire any emotion other
+than the most intense amusement. He was a man of overflowing girth
+and lumbering manner. His clothes were grotesquely misfit; the coat
+flapped loosely about the protuberant torso and the material of the
+suit glistened with a sheen begotten of arduous wear. Beneath the
+pants-cuffs shone a brief expanse of cheap, lavender sox topping
+aggressive russet shoes, the toes of which rose to points. From the top
+of the vest there was exhibited a small area of lavender silk shirt, a
+purple polka-dotted necktie and a collar of insignificant height but
+amazing circumference.</p>
+
+<p>But it was the face which inevitably engaged the attention—engaged
+it and held it even more than the absurdly powerful gold chain which
+spanned the vest and held dangling from it a golden toothpick with
+which the big man toyed absently as he gazed about the lobby. The face
+was a fitting final touch to the ensemble. It was an enormous face; a
+pudgy, expressionless face; a face flanked by loose, pendulous jowls
+ruddily complexioned; a face like a great pudding set with two glass
+marbles.</p>
+
+<p>A casual observer might have believed that those eyes were sightless
+as they stared stonily across the lobby. Once or twice the man
+blinked—the process consuming an interminably long time. He yawned
+with his eyes, but it did not seem to matter whether they were open or
+closed. And at length he heeded the irritable summons of an excessively
+peeved bellhop and turned to follow that person into an elevator.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Braden stood flatfooted staring as though at an apparition. But
+once the cage door closed, Braden crossed the lobby swiftly and glanced
+at the register.</p>
+
+<p class="ph2">JIM HANVEY—New York.</p>
+
+<p>He turned away. He strolled out upon the spacious veranda where he
+lighted a cigar and puffed reflectively. Eddie Morse and his wife,
+Ella, would not have known their friend at that moment. Tommy's face
+was hard and bitter and there was fear delineated in it. He put his
+thoughts into unspoken words—</p>
+
+<p>"What the hell is Jim Hanvey doing here? Why should a detective like
+him come to a joint like this?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Braden, by dint of hard and untiring work, had risen gradually
+to the very top of his profession. The road had been neither easy nor
+undangerous. He had faced disappointment and reversal with a bravely
+smiling face—and now he had come to the point where he felt entitled
+to reap the fruits of his endeavor. Tommy had been the despair of
+detectives. He operated with an easy suavity and a level-headed
+cunning which sent them running up blind alleys in the futile search
+for evidence to convict, so that thus far Tommy had avoided the
+inconveniences of jail—save in the case of a single slip in the early
+days of his career.</p>
+
+<p>That single jail sentence rankled in Tommy's breast, and it had
+inspired in him a wholesome fear of state boarding houses. In jail
+one was deprived of one's individuality and individuality was Tommy's
+greatest stock in trade. He intensely disliked swapping his name
+for a number and his exquisitely tailored clothes for a uniform. It
+seemed a great pity that the state had no more judgment than to fail
+to differentiate between crude, lumbering crooks and gentlemen of the
+profession who operated with delicacy and finesse. But, after all,
+Tommy Braden feared only one man in the detective world, which was why
+he was so visibly disturbed at finding himself a fellow-guest of that
+one man.</p>
+
+<p>The following morning he played golf with Edgar Morse. He unbent more
+than ever before and dazzled the little business man so thoroughly that
+Morse's mind was not on the game and he lowered his course record seven
+strokes. "By Golly!" reflected Mr. Morse, "there ain't a doubt that
+this Braden or Mallory, or whoever he is, really likes me."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy was annoyed. He had been enjoying the cat-and-mouse contest and
+Jim's advent forced him to greater speed than he had planned. They
+walked in from the eighteenth green together, consumed large drinks of
+iced sarsaparilla which Mr. Morse insisted was excellent for the blood,
+and then Tommy made his way to the hotel while Mr. Morse selected his
+favorite putter and a half dozen balls for a session of utterly useless
+practice on the clock course.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy saw the hulking figure of the mammoth detective too late to avoid
+a meeting. He was perturbed but at the same time thankful that his
+introduction to Jim at this particular time should come while he was
+unaccompanied. And realizing the inevitability of a talk with Jim, it
+was he who spoke first.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, well—if it isn't my fat friend."</p>
+
+<p>Jim looked up. Heavy eyelids closed over glassy orbs with maddening
+slowness, held shut for a moment, then uncurtained with even more
+annoying deliberateness. There was no doubting the sincerity of the
+surprise which was reflected upon the pudgy countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Well I'm a sonovagun! Tommy Braden!" Their hands met in a clasp of
+sincere cordiality. "It is Braden now, ain't it, Tommy?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy smiled with rare good-humor. "Surest thing you know, Jim. Thomas
+Matlock Braden."</p>
+
+<p>"The whole works, huh? What's it feel like to be masqueradin' under
+your right name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty good, Jim; pretty good. I've retired on my income."</p>
+
+<p>"Quit the game?"</p>
+
+<p>"Entirely."</p>
+
+<p>"That's fine, Tommy—fine. I'm tickled pink to know it. I always like
+to see a crook with sense enough to know when he's got plenty. There
+ain't nothin' like honesty, my boy, when you've made all the money you
+need."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I figured, Jim. There wasn't any use for me to continue
+running risks.... Of course I'm not what you'd call a rich man, but
+then I'm pretty well fixed. And not being tied up with a frail, it
+don't cost me much.... You know how it is."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, Tommy—I know." Jim blinked with friendly approval upon the
+other. "Dog-gone if you don't look like a million dollars ready money,
+Son. Silk shirt, trick pants an' everything. Say, what is there to this
+golf thing that makes sensible men dress funny thataway?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ever played?"</p>
+
+<p>"Naw! Imagine an elephant like me chasin' a dinky little ball over the
+meadows."</p>
+
+<p>"Better men than you have fallen for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure; I know that. But it's my figger, Son. The links wouldn't stand
+for it."</p>
+
+<p>Jim turned and walked with Braden toward the hotel. Tommy was
+ill-at-ease despite the apparent ease of his manner. Jim's face bore
+an expression of bovine contentment; he looked like a child—or a
+simpleton. Tommy knew that he was not a good man to have around, and
+yet he was afraid to protest too fervently that he was now treading the
+path of rectitude. Yet his curiosity shrieked for appeasement.</p>
+
+<p>"Funny to see you here, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Me? I reckon it is. I've been some awful funny places, Tommy."</p>
+
+<p>"Vacation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-huh. An' I just naturally got sick of lowbrow joints. Besides,
+a lot of the big boys in your line of work drift by here during the
+season, and so I thought I'd try this seven-forks-dinner stuff for a
+while. Guy never gets too old to learn, you know. Of course I ain't
+like you—you're a gent an' you fit. I'll bet you wear a movie screen
+shirt for dinner, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Everybody does here."</p>
+
+<p>"But one. Say: 'jever see me in evenin' duds? No? Honest, I look like
+next week's wash hangin' out."</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't exactly fit your style of beauty?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I reckon when the good Lord gimme a knack of rememberin' faces an'
+understandin' human nature, He figgered His part was done. If faces was
+fortunes I'd be bankrupt."</p>
+
+<p>They attained the ornate lobby where, at the desk, Tommy secured the
+key to his suite. "Come up, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-uh. Got to stroll around: exercise, the Doc says. Gosh! how I hate
+it. See you later, Tommy. Awful glad you've turned straight."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing like it, Jim. I never thought I could run across you like this
+and feel safe."</p>
+
+<p>"Shuh! I wouldn't bother you none."</p>
+
+<p>But despite outward appearances, Tommy Braden was uneasy. It wasn't
+that he was in any way connected with Jim's visit to this particular
+resort but rather that Jim's proximity was unhealthy for any gentleman
+who was upon transgression bent.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly there was no safety in continued procrastination. He had the
+Morses just about where he wanted them and he figured that the best
+thing he could do was to sell them the pearls and make his get-away. He
+knew there'd be no particular trouble——</p>
+
+<p>There wasn't. They dined with him that night, only Tommy being aware
+of the hulking lonely figure which munched by itself in a secluded
+corner of the dining room. Edgar Morse was radiant: he was exuberant
+over his record-breaking golf score and as the dinner progressed he
+went over for the dozenth time every shot from the first tee to the
+eighteenth cup. Tommy warmed up considerably. He even unbent so far as
+to say that Edgar was the first genuinely congenial person he had met
+in years. He hoped that their acquaintanceship might not perish when
+they parted, and—Oh! yes, he was leaving in a few days. He wished that
+there was something he might do to indicate to Mr. and Mrs. Morse the
+depth of his appreciation for the pleasure their society had afforded.</p>
+
+<p>He correctly interpreted the eager glance which passed between
+husband and wife. "There is," burst out Edgar, then bit his lip in
+embarrassment: "Er—a—that is, I was just thinking—I'm kind of crazy,
+I guess, and——"</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Morse? Anything in my power.... You see, I have few real
+friends. I am more or less well fixed in a financial way, and in such a
+position one becomes distrustful of persons who protest friendship....
+Tell me what you were thinking."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't—really. 'Tisn't possible."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed it is."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Can't."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy beamed upon Ella Morse. "What is it, Mrs. Morse? Certainly we are
+sufficiently intimate to permit frankness."</p>
+
+<p>She flushed. "Not to that extent."</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw! If there's any favor—"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's this," exploded Morse. "If you wouldn't get sore—that is,
+if you understood—but of course I can't ask you because they mean more
+to you than just what they mean and—that is, it isn't like you just
+had them, and—Oh! damn it! I've got myself all balled up!"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy frowned slightly. "I judge you have reference to my pearls?"</p>
+
+<p>"No! No! Certainly not. That is, I didn't go to pull a bone, and—"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Morse leaned across the table. "Yes, Mr. Braden, he does mean your
+pearls. He's embarrassed because we both realize that it is utterly out
+of the question to even suggest that you part with them, and——"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy lay back in his chair. He had an infectious laugh and he now
+injected the full radiance of a pleasing personality in the laughter
+and good-humored glance he bestowed upon them. "So that's it, eh? Well,
+well, well! You folks certainly are funny. What in the world should
+cause you embarrassment about wanting to buy my pearls? Of course you
+want to own them. I'd be rather hurt if they didn't impress you with a
+desire for ownership. Why man! man! I'm complimented."</p>
+
+<p>Morse was beaming. "Dog-gone if you're not the finest fellow I ever
+met. You see, pearls like those are something that can't be bought from
+a jeweler ... and we both love 'em. We're not strong for diamonds and
+platinum and stuff like that. Pearls—they're classy and rich—and all
+such as that. And of course from the first minute we saw them we got to
+thinking how swell it would be if Ella could own them ... that is, some
+just like 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"There aren't any just like them."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! We know that. Gosh! as if we didn't! Now if you were broke or
+something I'd have offered to buy them—but money doesn't mean anything
+to you, and—"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy's face had grown serious. He spoke with a rich tremolo effect.
+"You really want them that much?"</p>
+
+<p>"Want them! Holy smokes! man, you don't know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. I hope you'll permit me to present them to Mrs. Morse."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment there was silence. Morse and his wife stared aghast at
+this man who offered as a gift a priceless rope of matched pearls.</p>
+
+<p>"Give 'em——"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Braden! I couldn't!"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly you could, Mrs. Morse. You and your husband have afforded
+me an extremely delightful vacation. It would be a pleasure to present
+those pearls to you. After all, their intrinsic worth is not to be
+measured against friendship."</p>
+
+<p>They were dumbfounded. And at length Edgar Morse started to argue. He
+was overwhelmed by his friend's generosity, but of course it was out
+of the question for him to accept such a gift. On the other hand if
+his friend was willing to part with them at all, he would do both an
+inestimable favor by permitting him to pay for them—any price which
+Mr. Braden chose to ask; any price at all.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather give them to you, Mr. Morse."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't be done—impossible. Entirely impossible. But if you'd only let
+me pay you...."</p>
+
+<p>"You positively will not accept them as a gift?"</p>
+
+<p>"Positively."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry. Very sorry. But if you put it that way, I agree to sell
+them to you. You may have them for just what they cost me—seventy-five
+thousand dollars."</p>
+
+<p>Morse's voice trembled with emotion. "That's wonderful of you, Mr.
+Braden—wonderful. And I realize that we shall remain indebted to
+you beyond words. The trouble you've taken ... the love you have for
+them...."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's don't talk about them any more, Morse. I shall get the pearls
+from the safe to-morrow and give them to you." He smiled slightly.
+"And if you should change your mind during the night and be willing to
+accept them as a gift, I hope you will let me know."</p>
+
+<p>But they did not change their minds. Instead they talked until far into
+the morning hours of this Genie ... this gentleman who, for reasons
+quite his own, masqueraded under the name of Thomas Matlock Braden.</p>
+
+<p>Nor did Tommy Braden immediately drop off into slumber. He donned
+dressing gown and slippers and sat by an open window staring out into
+the night. Tommy was exceedingly well pleased with himself. He had
+operated adroitly ... certainly there was no hint of suspicion in the
+minds of his victims. There was a profit of seventy thousand dollars in
+the transaction, no mean addition to his bank account.</p>
+
+<p>The presence of Jim Hanvey in the hotel was less disturbing now. Tommy
+smiled at the prospect of some day telling Jim of the deal which had
+been consummated under his very nose ... he knew Jim intimately and
+realized that he would see the humor of the situation. There was
+something irresistibly funny in the thought that this profit should
+have been turned within a hundred feet of the one detective in the
+world for whom Braden held a wholesome respect.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy was up early the next morning. The nearness of his triumph begot
+a shakiness of nerves which was not unnatural. Matters had moved along
+like well-oiled machinery from the outset. There had been no single
+hitch to beget doubt or worriment.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey! Tommy!"</p>
+
+<p>Braden stopped short to gaze into the expressionless countenance of Jim
+Hanvey. The elephantine detective was smiling vacuously.</p>
+
+<p>"'Lo Jim. Taking a beauty stroll?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-huh. Pretty country around here, ain't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>"Walkin' my way, Tommy?"</p>
+
+<p>Braden's eyes narrowed. He wasn't, but—"Yes," he said and they moved
+off together; Braden tall and slender and handsome, Hanvey short and
+thickset and shapeless; a human pudding in a serge sack. It was the
+detective who spoke first and his tone was mildly reproving.</p>
+
+<p>"Thought you told me you wasn't up to nothing around here, Tommy."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not." With simulated indignation.</p>
+
+<p>"Then how does it happen that everybody in the hotel thinks you are
+Jared Mallory?"</p>
+
+<p>Braden threw back his head and gave an excellent imitation of carefree
+laughter. "That's the funniest thing that's ever happened to me, Jim.
+You know I don't look unlike Mallory——"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o, you don't. But on the other hand you and him ain't no twins."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. But the first or second day I was here somebody started the
+rumor that I was Mallory and there wasn't any stopping the thing."</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't been trying very hard to, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Frankly. It amused me to be mistaken for him."</p>
+
+<p>"No—er—reason?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not, Jim. No one has told you that I ever admitted being
+Mallory, have they?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o. They haven't—that's right, Tommy."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then——" virtuously. "What more could you ask? I'm registered
+as Thomas Matlock Braden and you know that is my true name. To folks
+who have quizzed me on this Mallory stuff I've insisted that Braden is
+my name. My baggage is marked with the initials T. M. B. which couldn't
+possibly be twisted to stand for Jared Mallory. It certainly isn't my
+fault, Jim, if a lot of fool people choose to believe I'm someone I'm
+not, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I reckon it ain't, Tommy. Of course you can't blame me for
+thinking it funny—when I heard folks saying that you was Mallory. It
+looked kind of queer."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy dropped an affectionate hand on Jim's shoulder. "You can't help
+being suspicious of everybody, can you, Jim? Why, dog-gone your time,
+I've been running straight for so long it's a habit. That's why I
+didn't even use an alias down here. Goodness knows a fellow can't come
+any cleaner than to drop a dozen other names and use his own, can he?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim nodded heavily and blinked with interminable slowness. "I feel
+a heap relieved, Tommy. I sure would hate to see you try to pull
+something—and I'm glad we had this little talky-talk. Hope you ain't
+sore at me for thinking maybe there was something queer."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all, Jim; not in the least. Wouldn't have been natural if you
+hadn't."</p>
+
+<p>Braden moved away, his last impression of Jim Hanvey was of an
+abnormally heavy man staring at him through glassy eyes. Against the
+background of rusty serge he saw a set of fat fingers toying idly with
+a gleaming gold toothpick.... "Poor Jim. He's a hound once they give
+him the scent but he is so anxious to believe that every crook is
+honest...."</p>
+
+<p>In his room again, Braden telephoned the Morses. Edgar Morse answered
+and made an appointment for three o'clock that afternoon. The pearls
+were mentioned: Tommy repeated his offer to present them to his friend.
+Morse was grateful, but yet found it impossible to accept so valuable
+a gift. He assured Braden once more that there would be no less an
+obligation despite the payment of a sizeable sum of money. Tommy was
+relieved.</p>
+
+<p>The morning dragged endlessly. Braden took his driver, midiron and a
+dozen balls and went to the practice tee where for an hour he slashed
+out clean, straight shots averaging more than two hundred yards in
+length. Golfer though he was, he experienced no thrill from the direct,
+cleaving flight of the balls: he was sufficiently a golfer to know
+that if his mind were not elsewhere the golfing results would be less
+satisfactory.</p>
+
+<p>His lunch was tasteless. His eye quested through the huge dining
+room for a glimpse of Edgar Morse and his wife. They were nowhere to
+be seen. He knew that they were either lunching in the grill or out
+driving. The hands of his watch progressed with exasperating slowness.
+He feared that something might go wrong at the eleventh hour ...
+occasionally he touched the leather case in the inside pocket of his
+coat....</p>
+
+<p>But he did not permit his impatience to cause a tactical blunder. It
+was fully ten minutes past the hour of his appointment when he rapped
+upon the door of the Morse's suite. Edgar answered in person. The eyes
+of the little man were a-gleam with eagerness. One glance at Morse and
+Mrs. Morse convinced Tommy that all was well. They were effusive;
+couldn't thank him enough for his generous offer of the previous
+evening and they hoped that he hadn't changed his mind—and that he
+wouldn't later regret having sold the pearls.</p>
+
+<p>A paean of triumph sang in Braden's heart. He extracted the pearls from
+his pocket and snapped the case open. Mrs. Morse gasped. He lifted the
+rope of pearls and personally fastened them about her throat. She was
+almost tearful with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>Edgar Morse produced a pocket check book. "And now if you will permit
+me, Mr. Braden—I—er—believe seventy-five thousand is the amount you
+mentioned."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy nodded. "Yes. That is exactly what they cost me."</p>
+
+<p>Edgar Morse held his pen poised. Rich color flooded his cheeks. He
+hemmed and hawed for a moment and then—</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you'll pardon me, sir—but how shall I make this check out?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy frowned. "What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"How shall I make it out—that is, er—to whose order?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I don't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I mean—you know there's the idea around the hotel—that is,
+about Jared Mallory, and—"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy's voice was crisp. "Just make the check out to Thomas M. Braden."</p>
+
+<p>Morse nodded and wrote swiftly. He extended to Tommy a check for
+seventy-five thousand dollars payable to Thomas M. Braden and drawn
+upon the Loop National Bank of Chicago. "I didn't mean to give any
+offense, Braden. Of course you understand what I thought—that is,
+other folks were saying——"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite all right, Morse; that's perfectly all right. I have really been
+exceedingly annoyed by this silly idea that Braden is not my name." He
+folded the check and slipped it casually in his pocket. "By the way,
+are we golfing in the morning? I was hitting them mighty cleanly in
+practice to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Alone in his room again Tommy inspected the check. Veteran though he
+was, his heart was pounding. He had played cunningly for big stakes
+and had won a well-deserved victory. There remained nothing for him to
+do but pack up and get away; then to convert Morse's check into cash
+and disappear. He decided upon a European trip; Paris had not known
+him for several years and he longed for the sensuous pleasures of the
+Boulevards.... He ripped open the drawers of his dresser and the doors
+of his chifforobe: the task of packing promised to make up in speed
+what it may have lacked in neatness.</p>
+
+<p>Of course he knew that he must manage his going away carefully. Morse
+must not know that he was hastening his departure ... he'd carry one
+suitcase and send back for the trunks the next day, or else eliminate
+them from his scheme of things. The important task was to place a
+maximum of distance between himself and his victims in a minimum of
+time. He worked feverishly at his packing, pausing occasionally to
+glance at the check which had recently been handed him. He was a trifle
+sorry for the Morses, but, he figured that they could well afford to
+lose the money ... nor would it prove a loss unless by some mischance
+the pearls should be recognized and there seemed little likelihood
+of that. Certainly the Morses did not move on a social plane where
+they were likely to meet persons familiar with the Vanduyn pearls.
+They might, of course, boast that they had purchased the pearls from
+Jared Mallory and news of this might reach that gentleman which, in
+all probability, would start something. But, in so far as Tommy could
+figure, no one was suffering through the transaction. What injury had
+been inflicted upon the Vanduyns had been done long ago.</p>
+
+<p>It was a pleasing philosophy and Tommy Braden felt quite virtuous. He
+scarcely heard the light rap on the door. Only when the rapping became
+insistent did he open.</p>
+
+<p>Jim Hanvey waddled into the room. He wore a suit which he fancied was a
+tweed. It hung loosely about his ungainly figure. The golden toothpick
+was very much in evidence. Jim blinked slowly—"Gosh! Tommy, you ain't
+going away, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Braden was flustered. He had a premonition of disaster. If only he
+could hold Jim off for a brief span of time.... "Just running up to
+Chicago for a few days, Jim. Coming right back. Merely carrying one
+bag."</p>
+
+<p>"Awful swell diggings, Tommy. How much do they sting you for this soot?"</p>
+
+<p>"Plenty, Jim, plenty. Say, how about trotting up to Chi with me for a
+day or so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Naw! Can't stir, Son. I've got to stick around here another day or so
+if it kills me. How long you planning to be gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! two or three days at the most."</p>
+
+<p>"No special business or nothing like that, is there, Tommy?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy flushed. He had a disturbing presentiment that there was a menace
+cloaked beneath Jim's words. "Nothing wrong, if that's what you mean,
+Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Good boy. It wouldn't be wise for a guy that's as well fixed as you to
+take another flyer. Of course I know there's plenty of temptation and
+all that—but the game ain't worth the electric flashlight, Son—not by
+a durn sight."</p>
+
+<p>Braden was ill-at-ease. "Wish you'd come along with me, Jim. I hate to
+travel alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, Tommy."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be here when I get back, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim shook his head ponderously. "Nope. Don't reckon I will. Got to hike
+back to N'Yawk and turn in a report. I've been right lucky recently,
+Son; right lucky."</p>
+
+<p>Braden was relieved. "Landed your man?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o. Not exactly. I wasn't particularly interested in that. It was an
+insurance company that sent me down here and all they wanted was the
+stuff. Interesting case, Tommy; awful interesting."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll wager it was." He crammed two suits of pajamas in the travelling
+bag.</p>
+
+<p>"You know," Jim's voice was easily conversational, "we'd almost given
+up hope of ever getting them Vanduyn pearls back."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Braden sat down very suddenly. "The—the what?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Vanduyn pearls. Remember the case? Mickey Donley pulled it."</p>
+
+<p>Braden leaned forward. "I don't quite make you, Jim. Do you mean to
+tell me that you've recovered the Vanduyn pearls?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surest thing you know. We knew Mickey couldn't get rid of 'em so we
+watched the boys he was calling on. Trailed 'em that away, see? And the
+poor sucker that bought 'em off Mickey found a goat and sold 'em—and I
+got' em that way. I'm right lucky about things like that."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Thomas Matlock Braden was dazed. He knew that Jim Hanvey was
+speaking the truth. And yet—He gave ear to the even monotone of the
+detective.</p>
+
+<p>"And say, Tommy; next time we meet I'll take you on in a golf match.
+I'm getting my first lesson this afternoon. I run across a swell feller
+last night. Guy named Morse: Edgar H. Morse. Know him?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy stared. He moistened dry lips with his tongue. "Go ahead, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Eddie Morse is taking me out on the links this afternoon. He
+says it ain't so hard if a guy is willing to practice for fifteen or
+twenty years. Think of me swinging a golf club. I'll feel like a sap.
+But anyway I like this bird Morse. Feel like I and he was buddies even
+though I never met him until late last night." Jim blinked slowly as
+he toyed with the gold toothpick which rested against his vest. "He's
+interested in joolry, too, Tommy. Me and him had a long talk about
+pearls and things. He knew all about the Vanduyn robbery; remembered
+the whole thing the minute I reminded him of it. Uh-huh, me and Eddie
+Morse got along fine together."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Braden sought to readjust his battered scheme of things. Above
+everything, he was a game loser. A thin, twisted smile appeared on his
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a fool, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"How so, Son?"</p>
+
+<p>"For thinking that you are the idiot you appear to be."</p>
+
+<p>"Gosh! I couldn't be that, could I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hardly. I take it, Jim, that you knew the person to whom Mickey Donley
+sold the Vanduyn pearls. You located him at this place and followed him
+here. You discovered that there was considerable mystery about him and
+also that Edgar Morse was his only intimate acquaintance. You presumed,
+of course, that Morse was the goat—and so you went straight to that
+gentleman and warned him against buying any pearls which might be
+offered. Is that correct?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim grinned in pleased surprise. "Golly! Son, you're clever. How'd you
+know all that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just guessing, Jim." He rose heavily. "I'd better travel along, I
+suppose. I'm mighty glad you're not going to nab the poor fish who
+tried to pull the deal. You're a white man, Jim Hanvey."</p>
+
+<p>"Shuh! We don't care nothing for that feller. It was just a bit of a
+business deal with him. Hmm! So you're running up to Chicago, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." And then—"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! nothin' special. Except that if you should happen to be thinking
+of cashing a check which somebody might have given you on—well, say
+the Loop National Bank; I think you'd better change your mind. You see,
+the feller which gave you that check happens to be a friend of mine
+and just to avoid embarrassment I suggested to him last night that he
+should make out the check on a bank where he hasn't got any money. And
+he kind of seemed to think it was a good idea."</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Braden had the grace to laugh. He clasped Jim Hanvey's hand—</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks for the tip, Jim. You're surely a thoughtful chap. And one of
+these days we'll try some golf; what do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"We sure will, Tommy—unless it turns out that I ain't got sense enough
+to learn the darn game."</p>
+
+
+<p class="ph2">THE END</p>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78848 ***</div>
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+[Project Gutenberg](https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook [#78848](https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78848)